CHAPTER FOURTEEN
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EMMA
We marched in quick short steps towards the exit, not looking back. I clutched my bag with determination, struggling not to stumble, while James strode gracefully without breaking a sweat. He led me to a sleek black car with tinted windows. Two burly men stood dressed as twins in khaki trousers and knitted red jumpers, trying to look normal with sunglasses, earpieces and crew cuts, but failing miserably as people were still staring at them. It took me a while to recognise one of them. The shorter one was Ralph. I waved at him and he smiled.
The man I didn’t know opened the door as Ralph muttered something. Then we slid into the car. The smell of brand-new leather tickled my senses. It was hard to control the urge to squeak the leather with my backside, but James’s eyes on me reminded me that I was an adult and that farting noises weren’t meant to be funny anymore. I held my hands neatly on my lap, regaining control, and took the chance to sneak a peek at James. He was holding back a smile, his dimples giving it away. His hand glided over the dry leather and it squeaked as he grinned like a small child.
“You haven’t changed one bit,” I managed to say between giggles. It was true. He always had done childish things, and I’d always found them funny.
He shrugged. “Neither have you. Besides, someone needed to break the ice.”
“Sorry for being a bitch to you yesterday. I didn’t expect to see you is all.”
His lip quirked. “That’s all right. You’re cute when you’re angry.”
“Tell me, how did you convince Susan to let me go?” I asked, once I was safely buckled in.
“I promised I would send her daughter a signed picture.” He winked, as if it were the easiest thing to do.
“I didn’t even know she had a daughter.”
I was surprised. Susan certainly kept things to herself.
“Yep, she’s been married for twenty years and has three kids. One of them has a secret crush on me.”
And who wouldn’t? You’re a walking god!
“So what do you want to do today?”
“I’m not sure, any ideas?” I replied. “I don’t have anything else to do. Apart from letting Amanda know I’m okay and I haven’t been kidnapped.”
While I fished my phone out of my bag, I overheard James mutter something to the driver.
I gave Amanda one chance, but she didn’t answer, so I just left her a message on her voicemail.
“Have you decided what we’re going to do?” I asked.
“Actually, I decided yesterday when I called your mum, but are you sure you’re willing to leave your fate in my hands?” he said with a delicious, wicked grin.
The only thing missing was the rubbing of the hands and the evil laugh.
I smiled back at him. He was gorgeous, but I was conflicted. Apart from ogling an Adonis, I was also looking at the boy who’d ping my bra. The fifteen-year-old in me wanted to avoid the chance of the pain radiating in my back as the elastic hit my skin. I never understood why he found that so funny.
I gave him the best stern look I could muster.
“Are you going to tell me or are you going to keep it a secret all the way there?”
“Guess,” he told me as he shook two coin bags. The see-through plastic showed them bursting with plenty of change.
“Please don’t tell me we’re going to the arcade.”
He nodded.
I groaned. “I haven’t been there in like seven years!”
“That’s perfect. It shouldn’t be too much work to win at the Dance-a-tron. My mum will be so proud that all the money she spent on dancing lessons finally paid off,” he said, this time not looking in my direction.
“Oh, but do not be fooled, my dear friend, Amanda has Just Dance on the Xbox, and I have the top score.” I winked.
I noticed how much I was flirting, how I was stroking my neck and twirling my hair. In slow motion, I placed my hand against my leg, even though my instinct was to touch his arm. Self-control, harder than walking in stilettos.
“I hope you don’t mind if we pop into McDonald’s. We have a little while before we can make it into the arcade, and I’m famished,” he suggested.
“Aye, that’s fine.” I shrugged.
I wondered why we had to wait for the arcade. After all, he was famous, and in theory he could get people to do his bidding.
As if reading my mind, he answered my silent question.
“We’re waiting for the place to close so we can have it for ourselves. Ralph made a call before, and we’re allowed to stay after hours.”
“But why would you want to wait until then?” I asked, still not understanding.
“Wouldn’t you? You get to choose what games to play and not have to wait for queues?” he explained.
It made sense. I was used to people standing around me demanding attention.
“Do you get a lot of bother from fans?” I asked.
“Fans I don’t mind. They just want some pictures and autographs,” he replied. “But I’m meant to be having a quiet week. You know, staying low after what happened last week.”
I didn’t want to ask him, but made a mental note to look it up later.
Ralph and Hugh stumbled into the car with takeaway food.
“I hope you still like a Big Mac and a strawberry milkshake,” James said, passing me a brown paper bag.
He gobbled his burger in three neat bites while I picked off the sesame seeds and removed the pickles.
“Don’t tell me you still dissect your burger. That’s the best part!”
James grabbed the pickles and popped them into his mouth. The familiar move took me back to a time where he ate my unwanted items and I stole the ice from his drink, our movements silent and synchronized.
“Do you still have sensitive teeth?” I asked.
He smiled. His lips remained tightly shut, since he still had food in his mouth.
I took my last bite and contemplated licking my fingers, but I couldn’t imagine what he would think, so I just wiped them on a paper napkin.
“Are you ready to lose?” he asked.
I nodded, noticing his jagged, almost non-existent nails.
“You still bite your nails?” I asked.
“No,” he muttered, and hid his hands in his pockets.
We reached the car park of the arcade. It was completely empty apart from a couple of lonely cars that I guessed were owned by the staff that waited inside. A pimpled teenage boy opened the door for us, and when he saw James, his small beady eyes grew like saucers. His lips opened but were unable to utter a single word.
The place felt eerily quiet. Lacking kids playing, it missed the annoying repetitive background music, and it was true that there were no queues. I tried to make the best of it even though I was reluctant at first. The neon lights at the back of the saloon welcomed me with open arms, promising the annoying music that made your body move without realising it. The groove started and so did the challenge. I looked in James’s direction as we raced towards the machine. He inserted coins in a swift movement. With no time to spare, the music started. The pad under our feet lit up, and the dancing began. James’s movements were elegant, graceful as he followed the rhythm without complication. My movements felt clumsy, and instead of gliding, my feet stamped against the music, following the colourful arrows beneath my feet. My heart threatened to explode as the music came to an end, my breathing laboured. I looked at James, who stood tall and radiant. His tousled hair begged to be touched and his triumphant smile was contagious.
“Aha! I won, now you’ll be my slave,” he declared.
“Aye, don’t push it, mate,” I said, waving my finger like a magic wand.
He looked adorable, grinning like a child at his victory.
“Double or nothing,” I dared him. “If I win you have to be my slave.”
“And if I win again?” he queried with a cheeky glint in his eye. He rubbed his chin, as if deep in thought.
I knew there was no chance of me winning, since he’d had years of training while I huffed and puffed, struggling to keep up. But it was fun to try.