Show Off, page 8
“Thanks.” She managed to whisper before completely succumbing to her sated body’s need for rest. The last thing she heard was Elle’s quiet chuckle.
Charlie woke up with a grumble when someone shook her on the shoulder.
“Yolande and Reiko will be home soon. You might want to get dressed.” Elle. Charlie rubbed her eyes. What? Oh. She gasped. Elle was here. They’d had great sex, except she’d fallen asleep before Elle had come and now her pulse raced for all the wrong reasons.
“I’m so sorry.”
“For?”
“Not making you come.”
Elle grinned. “I’m good. I sorted myself out after covering you with a blanket.”
“A blanket?” There was a blanket over here, a soft one that had to be made from some incredibly expensive material because it was somehow heavy and comforting and so soft against her skin. Like a fucking warm cloud or something.
“Yeah. I didn’t want you to get cold, and I thought it might be a bit creepy to rub myself while you were sleeping, so I covered you up first.”
“Um, thanks. It would’ve been fine.” Charlie loved the idea that Elle would get off to her body.
“No.”
“Would it be okay if I was awake?”
Elle raised one eyebrow. “Do you mean, would it be okay if I masturbated while watching you pretend to sleep?”
“Yes.” There would be no pretence of sleep. Charlie really wanted to see Elle exposed and exploring herself. “I want to watch.”
Elle’s face glowed with a bright red blush. “Not today. Yolande and Reiko will be here soon.”
“But sometime?”
Elle closed her eyes for a second and when she opened them again, she sent Charlie the most intense look. “Yes. Sometime.” Damn. Heat burst across Charlie’s skin. That look was so hot.
“I’ll take that as a promise.”
“Good. Now get up and get dressed. Quick.” The urgency in Elle’s voice made Charlie want to go slowly, but this wasn’t her house and she didn’t want to be a bad guest for Reiko and Yolande, who’d been so incredible these last few days. Surely this Tom Scottridge nonsense would die down soon. Some other scandal would get the media’s attention and she’d be forgotten. At least until her mum’s fucking movie was released.
She fought the instinct to tease Elle and jumped off the couch instead. The sharp intake of Elle’s breath made her smile and she couldn’t help it. Charlie strutted across the room. Naked apart from her bra. She brushed past Elle and delighted in the way Elle stroked down her spine and squeezed her butt. Nice.
Gooseflesh painted her skin, and it had nothing to do with the air temperature. Sadly, her display was short lived as she stepped into the guest bedroom and closed the door. She sat heavily on the bed as doubt suddenly rushed around her body like a dark cloud. What would happen once she was dressed? She’d never spent time with Elle afterwards. Elle usually left. Would she leave now? And why didn’t Charlie want her to? She threw on some clothes, quickly, so she could rush back into the main living space of Yolande and Reiko’s amazing apartment and talk to Elle before she left. Could she convince Elle to stay for dinner? Would Elle want to stay? Was Charlie worth it? Ergh, that anxious thought could fuck off. Of course she was worth it. Whether Elle stayed or not had zero to do with Charlie’s self-worth. She threw open the door and sighed. Elle was seated in a chair, her head bent over her phone screen.
“It’s true, you know.” Charlie hadn’t told anyone else, not even her friends who had offered her a place to stay.
“What is?”
“Tom Scottridge is my dad.” She stared out the window at the Thames. As usual, it was a muddy brown colour and only the architecture of London made it beautiful.
Elle stood up and slipped her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. She tilted her head, staring at Charlie until she wanted to hide behind her hands.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m still the same person. It doesn’t matter who my dad is.”
Elle’s mouth tightened with the corners pointed downwards. “Sorry.”
“Mum only told me last week,” Charlie answered the question that Elle didn’t ask. “I grew up fatherless. I always figured that Mum had had an affair with someone, or went to a sperm bank, or something, but if she didn’t want to talk about it, then neither would I. It didn’t really matter.” Charlie had been content, growing up on a soap opera set, doing her homework in her mum’s cabin while she finished working for the day, then they’d go home together on the tube to their apartment.
Elle almost nodded. “And now everyone knows.”
Charlie laughed bitterly. “No. Now everyone thinks they know. Tom Scottridge’s PR team have been silent, and Mum sent me a rude text for calling the press on her.” That had pissed Charlie off and she hadn’t figured out how to respond just yet. The longer she put it off, the more it looked like her mum was correct. On the other hand, Charlie didn’t want to throw more fuel on that particular fire.
“What?”
“She’s just covering her arse. If she blames me, then she hasn’t breached her non-disclosure contract.” Charlie suddenly knew what to do. She grabbed her phone from the table and sent her mother a quick reply: Wasn’t me.
“Her what?” Elle’s confusion reminded Charlie of herself when she’d first heard of her mum’s agreement with bloody Tom Scottridge. He hadn’t even been that famous when Charlie had been conceived; what an arrogant fuck he must be to insist on such a thing! Couldn’t possibly have a baby inconveniencing his future career.
Charlie rolled her eyes. “Apparently she signed a non-disclosure agreement with Tom Scottridge. If she doesn’t tell anyone that I’m his daughter, then she gets a monthly payment from him for my care.”
“But you are all grown up now?”
Charlie sat heavily on the couch. “Oh. I am. Do you think...”
No, she couldn’t have... Could her mother have leaked the information on purpose? Yes, she would do that. Charlie had even assumed that was why Mum had decided to come to Seraph’s with Tom that night, because she wanted people to see the three of them together and jump to conclusions. Not that Charlie looked anything like Tom with his sharp blue eyes and chiselled jaw and ... yeah, the same colour hair as her. Well, that meant nothing and she usually wore a wig when she was on stage. That night, she’d MC’ed wearing a bright red 1920s bob cut wig and a matching flapper dress covered in sequins. She’d looked amazing and her social media had responded well, even before the news had come out. Since then, she hadn’t wanted to look at her socials. Her notifications were probably out of control. There was no probably about it; she’d seen some of them when she’d picked up her phone to reply to Mum. She put her phone back on the table with the screen facing downwards so she didn’t have to see.
“I don’t know. What do you think?” Elle asked.
“I think the movie business can be brutal and actors will do anything to get press.” Charlie didn’t blame her mum for taking advantage of this situation for the sake of her career, but she wouldn’t have minded a bit of a warning from her. She didn’t appreciate being toyed with for the sake of someone else’s career.
“Hey, are you guys decent?” Yolande’s voice rang out from the hallway.
“Yes. Come in.” Charlie glanced at Elle, whose cheeks glowed pink. She winked at her, and the colour deepened, making her brown eyes look shinier and wider.
“I’d better go.”
Charlie shook her head. “Stay for dinner. Please.” She had nothing else to do and an evening spent chatting with Elle, Reiko, and Yolande sounded brilliant.
“Sorry, I can’t.” Elle didn’t explain further, just walked to the door, and spoke quietly to Charlie’s friends as she slipped on her sandals and left.
Charlie squared her shoulders; well, she didn’t need to get to know her hook ups. Her body was sated and now she could hang with real friends, people who stuck around for her and gave her a safe place to stay when she needed it. Elle was merely a distraction ... A wonderful physical distraction that Charlie wanted to know better. It was obvious that Elle didn’t want the same thing; she’d played with her toy and then left. Charlie chuckled bitterly. She’d done that to so many people over the years, before the pandemic, so maybe this was just karma coming to bite her on the arse.
“Are you coming to work with us tonight? Reiko will order a ride share, so no one will see you.” Yolande waltzed into the room and Charlie swallowed. She’d forgotten that everyone else had to work.
“May as well.” She shrugged. What else was she going to do? Hang out by herself again while feeling sorry for herself? Nah. She’d brave the press and go to work. Why should her mum’s nonsense stop her doing what she loved?
Chapter 8
Elle was glad she’d taken the train to Joey’s birthday party because after a day spent with her family, with all of them gushing over her very cute nephew, she was done. She didn’t mind the gushing. Joey was very cute and she loved seeing him. It was the not-so-subtle backhanders about her age and singleness that hurt. If they were waiting for her to be a dutiful daughter and marry some white cishet man who would sell her business so she would have time to dedicate to his children, then they’d be waiting for fucking ever.
She made her excuses—she had too much work on—and left as soon as was polite so she didn’t have to get a ride home in Hugh’s car with Willow and Joey. It’d been days since she’d last seen Charlie and she couldn’t let go of the disappointed expression that had covered Charlie’s face when Elle had walked away.
Today’s party had been the perfect reminder for how much she needed to keep her business flourishing. She needed to pay her parents back quickly. They hadn’t asked about the money. They’d never be so obvious. Instead displayed their disapproval in other ways, like when they’d asked after her ex, Campbell, ‘What a nice boy he was, blah blah’, as they conveniently forgot that he’d dumped her just before Christmas because he hadn’t wanted to go to their family dinner. They hadn’t cared when he’d been rude about her weight at various family events—why would they? They agreed with him.
And apparently a little thing like a global pandemic shouldn’t have stopped her from finding a nice man to marry. If not Campbell, then someone else similar. Someone else who would help them keep her contained as they liked. Fucking hell.
She’d rather marry Charlie than some bloke.
No.
Her breath caught in her throat. Charlie was just a hook up; great in bed, the best kisser she’d ever been with, someone who challenged her physically, teased her, and ... all of that. She should probably admit to herself that she wasn’t going to fuck Charlie out of her system any time soon. They’d been doing this for a couple of years now—apart from the enforced break—and each time only made Elle want to spend more time with Charlie.
Unfortunately it was obvious that Charlie wasn’t the marrying type. They’d never been exclusive with each other. Elle knew that she was only one of Charlie’s many hook ups, and it didn’t use to bother her. Back then, Elle had been on a few dates and some had ended with sex. None of it had mattered; just a bit of fun. Elle had never even given it more than a passing thought until today. Part of the thrill of being with Charlie was knowing that it was temporary, a mutual momentary pleasure without the emotional weight of a relationship. Why did she yearn for more now?
The tube would take her right past the stop for Seraph’s before heading through town to her place. It’d be pretty easy to get off and spend the evening at Seraph’s before using Charlie to get rid of this pent up frustration caused by her family’s expectations of perfection. Whatever she did, it was never enough for her parents. She shook out her hands. Using Charlie like this didn’t feel right either. They’d always had a mutual thing; where had this thought come from? Did she really want to use Charlie? No. They might have never defined what they had but thinking about using Charlie for pleasurable gain felt like a gross abuse of their mutual joy. Did she want to share her day with Charlie and have someone listen to her woes? No. Maybe? That sounded a lot like what people who were in a relationship might do. She couldn’t quite picture Charlie in that role, as an emotional comfort for her. She blew out a long breath. What she truly needed was to focus on work ... except the job with the highest priority on her list was the refit at Seraph’s. She thumbed open her phone and scrolled down before dialling Beth.
“Hi.”
“Hi Beth. Have you got time this evening for a quick meeting? I know it’s not ideal—”
“Yes. I wanted to talk over the plan you sent through. Is it possible for you to come here before opening tonight?” Beth’s idea was exactly the excuse Elle needed. It was time to admit it to herself; she wanted to see Charlie and work was a good reason to put herself in the same space as Charlie.
“I’ll be there in less than half an hour.” Elle almost said she was already on the tube but stopped herself because that made her sound disorganised.
“So soon?”
“Yes. I was going past on the tube and it occurred to me that you might be in tonight.” So much for not telling Beth. But her question about timing had opened up the need for an explanation. It didn’t matter why she was on the tube or where she was going. Shut up, brain. Just go to focus and get to work. After a day with her family, she usually needed some time to unscramble and decompress. Heading into Seraph’s for a business meeting was probably not the best choice, but it was too late now.
“Brilliant. I’ll see you soon.”
Elle stood up and waited by the door. She really needed to clear her head and a walk usually helped. Getting out here, a couple of stops early, would give her the walk she needed. There was something about walking that helped her creatively, and hopefully striding out through London’s busy streets would help stretch her brain and figure out the puzzle that was the layout at Seraph’s. Something wasn’t quite right with her plans and it kept niggling at her, like a seed in her sock. Behind the stage needed to be streamlined and made more practical, in a cost-effective way that meant the least amount of structural changes.
Summer evenings in London weren’t meant for furious walking, so by the time Elle arrived at Seraph’s, her shirt stuck to her skin and her thighs had rubbed together uncomfortably against her pants. She needed a shower. The best she could do was grab the front of her shirt and shake it to get some air against her skin. Hopefully her deodorant would work well and she wouldn’t stink too much for this meeting.
“Elle. Beth told me you’d be here.” Walter opened the front door and waved her through.
She thanked him as she headed inside. All the lights were on in the bar area as several of the staff got it ready for tonight’s show. The bright lights illuminated how tired and old all the décor was. If Elle had a bigger budget for this refit, she’d strip everything out and replace it all, but she’d have to make do with a more cost-effective makeover. With the right lighting, people wouldn’t notice the way the wood on the tables had been cleaned too many times. Redoing the varnish might fix the tables and make them look new again, but there was no way to hide the way the chairs were so tired looking. They were all metal and wood so there was a chance that a paint job might help; although it wasn’t usually cost effective to repaint furniture given the amount of labour involved in the preparation phase. She could take one with her to her next upholstery class and figure out the best way to refresh it.
A change to the layout would make the biggest difference to the appearance of the place. A couple of plants at the ends of the bar, new lighting, and changing the table locations to make a better flow for patrons and staff. The edge of the stage was going to look amazing when she added a new façade to it, something a bit more hardwearing than the current chipped and dented old wood panelling. Perhaps corrugated iron—no, too industrial—maybe slick angled tiles. Not subway tiles, they were so 2000s ... something similar but in a herringbone pattern perhaps.
“Elle.” Beth waved at her from a door beside the stage.
“Hi.” Whatever she put along the edge of the stage needed to fade into the background lighting and not dominate the space. That was the problem with tiles, they were too shiny, she needed something more matt in texture, like a pale wood. Yeah. Beth laid the printed out plans on one of the tables and beckoned her over.
“I’m glad you have these. I just came from my nephew’s birthday party and I was going right past so I didn’t have them with me.” Elle cringed. She sounded so disorganised, nothing like the successful business owner that she wanted to be.
“Happy birthday to your nephew.”
“Thanks. What do you think of them?” Elle waved at the plan.
“They seem okay.”
“But?” Elle waited for the question from Beth.
“I’m struggling to picture what it’ll look like.” Beth swept her hand over the plans and Elle suddenly understood. When people without architectural training looked at plans, they often found it difficult to imagine the plans in three dimensional space.
“I can make up a model if you think it would be easier than a flat plan?”
Beth raised one eyebrow. “Wouldn’t that cost extra?”
“Usually. I’ll do this one on the house because I’ve enjoyed many evenings at Seraph’s.”
Beth frowned. “No. I can’t let you do that. I know what it takes to run a business, and you’ll never succeed if you do work for free.” After a whole day with her family who criticised every tiny thing she did, Beth’s comment sent a cold chill across Elle’s neck. She should’ve framed the offer differently, and even thinking about how she could have done something to change the outcome pinched at her awkwardly. Old habits died hard, or in her case, didn’t die at all.
