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Black Diamond. Havana Adams
Читать онлайн.Название Black Diamond
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781472096401
Автор произведения Havana Adams
Жанр Контркультура
Издательство HarperCollins
“You shouldn’t get all moony about him,” Vicky said with her usual pragmatism. Grace rewarded her friend with a glare.
“I’m not mooning,” she snapped.
“You barely even noticed when Nessa screamed at you.” Grace shook her head and they’d carried on towards College.
But now as she slowly threaded her way down Turl Street, she knew that Vicky had seen through her. Since that day, when they had talked, Matt nodded to her whenever he saw her, he greeted her with a smile on the rare occasions when she’d ended up serving him in Hall. He had never purposely sought her out and yet somehow Grace knew that he was protecting her from The Gatsbies. There had been sidelong looks and glances from Poppy and the others, but none of the unkind words that Grace had feared; there was no doubt about it, Matt was her protector. Grace was embarrassed and yet she found herself daydreaming about Matt, wondering how she might orchestrate a meeting with him. And then she would catch sight of herself in a mirror and the fantasy would be broken. Matt would never look at anyone like her.
Grace sighed and she turned her mind to the journey home. By claiming pressures of college work and taking a job on the cleaning staff of the College during Easter, Grace had managed to stay away from London, away from The Pastor for most of the academic year. She had not seen her mother in months. Grace had longed for her mother to come up to Oxford, just for the first day but The Pastor had forbidden it. Grace felt a sting of guilt. She had abandoned her mother these last few months, but she gritted her teeth and pushed the feeling aside; she had done what she needed to do.
As she walked through the University Parks, Grace noticed in the distance a small group of people. Several picnic hampers had been carelessly discarded, a kissing couple slow danced and several bodies lazed on checked picnic blankets in the dull glow of the setting sun. Grace adjusted her glasses and squinted as she tried to make out their faces and then she froze. It was The Gatsbies. Her eyes turned back to the couple slow dancing and now she saw them clearly. It was Matt and in his arms was Laura. Grace felt her stomach plummet. All the inchoate fantasies that she had hardly allowed herself to give name to scattered in the wind and behind her glasses, she blinked hard. Her head down, Grace continued towards the exit that would take her to Hennies. As she stamped down on the mournful emotions that threatened to rise up in her, she thanked the gods that this time at least, her humiliation had been private.
“You got a light?”
Lola looked up and in the dim light of the narrow alleyway at the back of Gin, yet another hot new bar, she watched a tall, powerfully built man move towards her. Long dreadlocks were pulled away from his face in a ponytail and as he walked, the long rope of hair swung from side to side, halfway down his back, almost touching his elbow. There was a directness about his gaze that disconcerted Lola and made her feel defensive. She stared back at him, determined to hold her ground. Close up, she saw that he wore the distinctive pinstriped Issey Miyake waistcoat that was the uniform of all the wait staff in the bar. As he stopped in front of her, Lola took a deep drag on her cigarette and she gave him a brief nod. She reached for his cigarette and for a moment their fingers touched. He had clean fingernails. Lola placed his cigarette against the smoking end of her lit one and watched, mesmerised as the orange glow kissed the unlit cigarette to life. She handed it back to him and continued to watch him as she exhaled.
He was tall, really tall and built. Beneath the waistcoat he wore nothing, and Lola could see his bare chest and the beginnings of a light dusting of chest hair and well defined pecs. Down one arm, snaking out from beneath the waistcoat, were an impressive set of sleeves, zigzagging up and down his biceps all the way to his wrist.
“Nice ink,” Lola said nodding at his tattoos. The waiter smiled.
“She speaks,” he replied and Lola was unprepared for the smile that crept across her face, before she quickly resumed the pout that was fast becoming her default expression.
“Don’t tell anyone,” she drawled, wondering why she was still standing outside with the help.
Lola watched the waiter lean back against a dumpster and drag deeply on the cigarette. His lips were thick and Lola looked away quickly, surprised at the flare of lust that slammed into her. Lust was no part of her life, not really. Sure there were the random hook-ups and the orchestrated ones that made it into a few magazines and the blogs, but the wash of lust as she stared at this quiet waiter with the watchful eyes was unexpected and not entirely unwelcome.
“How’s the party?” The waiter spoke and Lola shrugged.
“It’s work,” she replied unthinkingly.
“For me too.” Lola winced. She was unused to dealing with real people with real jobs.
“So how does it ‘work’ for you?” the waiter asked, his brow furrowed, and Lola dragged on the last of the cigarette and then ground the butt beneath her boot.
“New bar, wants to get a buzz, so they pay some celebrities to come hang out and be seen here.”
“Nice.” The waiter half smiled again. “How much do they pay you to do that?” His bluntness surprised her.
“How much do they pay you?” Lola shot back.
“Six bucks an hour,” he replied without missing a beat and Lola felt her skin flush as she watched him angle his head, his dreads swinging over one shoulder as he stared intently at her. “You?” he prompted again.
“Fifteen thousand.” A low whistle emerged from his lips and the waiter turned to face her directly. Lola was struck once again by how tall he was. “Paris and Kim get double that,” she muttered, wondering why she felt it necessary to justify herself to this stranger.
“Nice work if you can get it.” Lola nodded and looked up at the clear, black sky. The tedium of the conversation and the air kissing and the bullshit inside the bar had gotten to her, but as the awkward silence lengthened, all Lola wanted was to get back inside away from this silent watchful stranger, who was provoking unexpected feelings.
“You work here all the time?” Lola winced inwardly. Why was she prolonging the conversation? She turned towards him, but he was glancing at his watch. Quickly, he stubbed out his cigarette.
“Here, the Italian place at The Grove, a few places,” he finished with a smile. “Break’s over.” A rueful smile flickered across his face. Lola smiled back, a feeling of relief mingling with something else. “Have a good night,” the waiter said and in a bang of double doors, he was gone.
The next day, Lola woke in a bad mood.
She’d tossed and turned all night and then at 5 a.m. as the sun was starting to rise, she’d fallen into a restless sleep. When she finally dragged herself out of bed, to start the day, she had the dreadlocked waiter on her mind. Hitting the gym, she put herself through a gruelling workout with the punch bags, determined to knock away the unease that had settled in the pit of her stomach and which seemed unwilling to leave. This was the problem with doing business with friends, Lola thought darkly. Once upon a time, she might have called Amber so they could hit the shops on Rodeo or at The Grove, but these days Amber was all work and no fun. Amber was always talking about strategy and media presence and ways to monetise. Lola sighed. Despite the fact that she’d been thrown out of every exclusive high school on the West Coast, she was, it seemed, finally getting a career; shame it had to come at the expense of her best friend.
After she had showered, the thought of returning to the empty apartment filled Lola with a dread that she chose not to examine too closely and instead she swung her car down Fairfax towards 3rd and headed to The Grove Mall. After she’d valet-parked Lola walked to the main thoroughfare of the mall.