Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
“Amelia,” Anouska says, smiling from where she’s perched on the pedestal desk. “Going upstairs?”
“You know, I think I need a drink.” I motion towards the Library Bar as I head that way. “Mind?”
“Of course,” she says, laughing, like, why am I asking?
I point back outside. “Will you let Jude know I’m in here when he’s done on his call?”
“Absolutely. Enjoy.”
“Thanks, Anouska.”
When I enter, I find Clinton’s showing off his cocktail-making skills to a couple sitting at the bar, delighting them. A few stools in between them and another couple are free, so I hop on, plucking the menu from the gold stand, browsing. At the very top, taking first position from Hey Jude, is the Amelia. I still can’t believe he named a cocktail after me.
“The Amelia is officially our most popular to date,” Clinton calls, pouring.
The couple claim their glasses and sip, and the woman smiles at me. “You should try it.” She looks to the heavens. “Divine.”
Clinton chuckles, placing a napkin down for each of them, then a small bowl of olives. No nuts. “Do you want one?” he asks. “I’m told it packs a punch.”
“Ha ha,” I drone, closing the menu and waving a hand in playful order. It’s hardly past noon, but it’s the weekend. I’ll cut myself some slack. Besides, I’m in shock. “Get me the Amelia.”
“Oh, you won’t regret it,” the lady says, giggling. “This is my third. It’s our anniversary weekend.”
“Aww, congratulations.” I smile as she places her hand on her husband’s knee, and he clasps it. “You’ve come to the best place.”
“Right?” she says, gushing. “Isn’t it incredible? It’s been on my bucket list since it opened!” She offers her hand. “I’m Denise. This is my husband, Leroy.”
“Pleasure,” I say, accepting. “I’m . . .”
“This is Amelia,” Clinton says, smiling at the shaker as he prepares my drink.
“Oh, like the drink!” Denise laughs. “How funny!”
I smile, awkward. “Yeah, like the drink.”
“Not like the drink,” Clinton pipes up. “She is the drink.”
I look at his grinning face tiredly. “What’s taking you so long?”
He lets out a bark of laughter, shaking vigorously, and poor Denise falls into a state of total confusion.
“I hope you have the best weekend,” I say, making her smile again.
“Thank you.” She turns to her husband and some hushed whispers go down.
“Anytime today,” I call, increasing Clinton’s amusement, and on a dramatic pour and over-the-top twirl, he slides my drink towards me. I waste no time taking my first sip, sighing. I hate how good it is, especially at this time of day.
“You look like you’ve had a rough day, and it’s only just afternoon.” Clinton gets on with polishing some glasses. “Come on, get it off your chest.”
“Well, yesterday, the man I’m seeing turned up at my office and has put me in a bit of a sticky situation.”
“The man you’re seeing?” he asks. “I heard he was your boyfriend.”
“And who told you that?”
“Jude.”
I laugh. “Was he growling when he put that out there?”
“I wondered what the low rumble was. I thought the ice machine was about to blow up.”
I smile around the rim of my glass. “He’s very aware of his passive-aggressive possessiveness,” I muse.
“And what about you?”
“Oh, so you heard about my run-in with Katherine?”
“May have.”
Brilliant. I peek over my shoulder, checking the bar entrance. “How much do you know?” I ask, testing the water.
The look on his face alone tells me Clinton knows a lot.
“Don’t you think it’s weird?” I ask.
“Totally.” He spots someone at the end of the bar. “Just be careful, okay? The last woman Jude was seeing disappeared.”
I recoil, not knowing what part of that statement to process first. “Disappeared?” He was seeing someone?
“She was a rep for one of the beverage companies that supplies Arlington Hall. Jude was seeing her.” He falters. “Sleeping with her. Whatever, I’ve already said too much. I’m just saying, Jude called it off and suddenly we had a new rep. I like you. I don’t want Katherine and her misplaced sense of ownership to chase you out of town.” Clinton places his finger over his lips as he leaves me.
Well, damn. Ownership? She’s deluded. And why didn’t I ever wonder about any other women? Maybe because Katherine filled up that space for wondering. And, damn you, Clinton, I’m grateful for the heads-up, but I can’t do much with that information since I’m not supposed to have it.
“Huh,” I murmur to myself, looking out the window onto the front, where I see Jude waving to someone. I get up and wander over, looking out. Katherine’s husband, Rob, climbs out of a sports car and approaches Jude, and despite not being able to hear what’s being said, the body language speaks volumes. Jude’s arms come out, in the kind of way that suggests he’s asking, What the fuck is this? Rob looks at my car. Then looks up to the heavens.