rat-arsed?’ Becker asks as she flops onto her stool and draws the proverbial daggers from where she’s safely stored them.
‘Totally,’ I confirm, turning and throwing my arms around his neck. He accepts willingly, and though I know the appearance of my Mr Magnificent has caught the attention of many women nearby, I let the looks of awe go straight over my head. Being an outsider to Lucy’s situation has had clarity explode around me, making my own situation perfectly clear, even in my slightly drunken condition. All the women who I’ve seen as threats are nothing more than a mild inconvenience. I have this sinful bastard’s heart, and I’m keeping it. ‘I love you,’ I declare, loud and proud, shouting over the music, hoping everyone in the bar hears me.
Becker grins wickedly and lifts me from my feet, blowing my hair from my face when a few wayward strands slip free. ‘And I love you, you corrupt, drunken little witch.’ He lands a forceful kiss on my lips and starts carrying me from the floor.
‘Where did you come from?’ I ask, once I’ve been placed on my stool.
‘Heaven, princess.’ He flips me a wink, moving back so I get his full height in view. He looks perfectly casual in a pair of worn jeans and a white T-shirt. God, I could jump his sinfully sexy self.
‘Oh, that’s cute.’ Lucy interjects, throwing a wobbly fist into Becker’s bicep. ‘He’s a charmer.’
‘How are you, Lucy?’ Becker asks, running dubious eyes up and down her half-naked frame as he tosses a couple of twenties on the bar. ‘Whatever the girls are having,’ he says to the barman. ‘And I’ll have a Haig on the rocks.’
‘A-fucking-mazing,’ Lucy slurs, pointing her empty in the general direction of Mark’s group, who are now all huddled around a tall table doing shots. ‘My boyfriend is fucking amazing, too.’
Becker looks across to where Lucy is pointing, then to me on a frown. I shake my head. It’s a tell-ya-later look, and he catches it swiftly, handing me my wine.
‘You ready to settle your bill?’ the barman asks, obviously concluding that Lucy and I are well on our way to a drunken oblivion and will probably be stumbling home soon.
‘How much?’ Becker asks before I have the chance, going back to his pocket.
‘One hundred and sixty-eight.’
‘What?’ Becker looks at me in shock, eyeing up the drink he’s just placed in my hand, maybe considering confiscating it.
‘Eight mojitos at sixteen quid a pop. Plus the wine and your Haig.’ The barman slides the bill across the bar for confirmation, but Becker waves it away, throwing down a pile of notes.
‘You okay?’ he asks, now clearly concerned by the confirmation of how much alcohol has passed my lips.
‘I’m being supportive.’
‘By getting blind drunk?’
I shrug guiltily on an innocent smile. ‘I’m a good friend. And I feel fine. I think all the secrets I’m keeping are burning away the alcohol.’
He rolls his eyes as his tumbler of amber liquid rises slowly to his full lips, and my rapt stare journey with it. ‘Cheers,’ he says, tipping the neat whisky back. ‘What’s going on?’ Becker indicates across the bar to Mark. ‘Have they had an argument?’
I’m not worried that Lucy will notice us talking about her like she isn’t here. Because she isn’t. Not in mind, anyway. She’s gone full-force into glaring mode again. ‘That leggy blonde is what’s wrong.’ I discreetly nod at Melanie, prompting Becker to seek her out.
‘Whoa,’ he blurts out, resulting in a swift jab in the shoulder from me. ‘Sorry.’ He smiles nervously. ‘But she’s hardly unnoticeable with one tit hanging out.’
‘What?’ I throw my eyes past Becker. ‘Oh my days.’ He’s right. One boob has broken free from her low-cut dress and is jiggling happily while she throws a shot back. All eyes in the bar are on the girl from floor eighteen, except the men aren’t staring and licking their lips, despite it being a rather attractive boob. They’re looking embarrassed for her. She’s clearly steaming drunk, and when she throws herself at a very horrified-looking Mark, I know immediately that Lucy’s invisible daggers could, quite possibly, turn into very tangible ones. I see her leaving her stool like an eject button has been pressed. ‘Stop her,’ I shout, pushing Becker, who quickly cottons on and seizes the top of Lucy’s arm.
‘Hold your horses,’ he says calmly, pulling her back. ‘Mark’s doing a pretty good job of fighting her off himself.’