CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
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EMMA
“Anthony, you can stop here,” James said.
“I’m sorry, sir, but there’s too many people around here. It isn’t safe.” Anthony didn’t even look at him and kept on driving.
James’s face hardened. His breathing accelerated. He probably wasn’t used to being told no.
“If you keep on driving, then we’ll have further to walk.” His jaw was clenched, and so were his fists.
At this, Anthony removed his glasses and looked at the mirror, but kept on driving. Then, without uttering a word, he nodded and pulled over a lane.
I placed my hand on top of his for reassurance and silently asked him if he was okay. He nodded.
Whispering, he mentioned that Anthony wasn’t his favourite person.
“Where are we going?” I then asked in a low voice, noticing how his nails were still digging into the leather.
James’s face changed. The muscles relaxed and a smile appeared, warming his eyes.
“I’m not telling you, but you have to wear this.”
He pulled a pale blue woolly scarf from his pocket, his smile mischievous.
“Why? No way am I putting that on. I could walk into a lamp post.” I shook my head, but giggled at the same time, both nervous and excited. I would always say that I hated surprises, but secretly I loved them, mostly because of how contagious James’s grin was.
“Oh come on, Emz. Don’t be a party pooper. You’ll love it. Trust me.”
I agreed and turned around so he could tie the ribbon across my eyes. He gently shifted the hair off my neck and placed the soft scarf on my face.
“Is this all right?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I struggled to answer as his fingers brushed the sensitive skin at the back of my neck.
I shivered and my heart raced, my body begging for more of his touch. James must have noticed.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
I nodded, even though I was melting in my jacket.
“But you’re Scottish, used to Arctic conditions.”
I couldn’t see him, but I knew his dimples were visible and his eyes twinkled.
“Aye, right.” I had no other words, so instead I shoved him, and he chuckled. He held my hand and pulled me.
“Let’s go, Emz, or we’ll be late. Don’t worry. I promise I won’t let you crash into a lamp post, although it would be really funny.”
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Five minutes later, James’s arm was around my waist, his warm hand enveloping mine. The blindfold was still over my eyes, but I could hear people talking, laughing. We walked through narrow corridors and I could smell powder and perfume. Finally, James pulled the ribbon down my face. His body was so close to me, I could feel his warmth inviting me in. It was hard to resist the pull his body had over mine, like some invisible magnetic force. His eyes were intense, searching for something until he smiled, and my face burned.
I didn’t notice where we were; I saw only him.
“So, what do you think?” he asked, waiting for an answer.
That’s when I noticed we were in a small room. Big mirrors were lined along one wall, each framed by small light bulbs. On the right-hand side, there was a small couch and clothes hung on a thin rail. I was confused. To me, this place looked like a changing room of some kind.
“I’m not sure. Where are we?” I asked.
His grin was so wide, it was impressive that the skin around his lips didn’t crack.
“You said you wanted to see a play on Broadway.”
Now he stood with arms open, as if to say ta-da! Still none the wiser, I opened my mouth to say something, anything that would not make me look stupid, but couldn’t think of anything.
He headed to where a bottle of champagne cooled in a bucket of ice. Two glasses glistened beside it. He opened the bottle with a big pop, sending a spray of golden liquid to the floor.
“I thought, since it’s not often that friends get together after so many years, that we could celebrate our reunion, and I managed to get two VIP tickets to see Chicago,” he said, handing me a glass.
“Awesome! James, that’s amazing.”
I wanted to jump on him and hug him. Instead, I downed the glass, letting bubbles tickle my throat.
“Easy, sailor,” he said, but he handed me the bottle so I could refill my glass.
“That’s more like it.” Leaving the glass on the table and taking a swig straight from the bottle had to calm the nerves. “Was it hard to get the tickets?”
“Not really, just a call,” he answered, taking the bottle from my hands. With an irresistible wink, he drank from it.
The door opened and a man, taller than James, appeared, dressed in a grey suit and with his charcoal hair gelled back. He was also good-looking. Not as handsome as James, but I was sure that Amanda wouldn’t throw him out of her bed.
“James McNair! I thought I would never get to see you again,” the tall man said, patting James on the back.
“John! I’m glad to see you too. It’s been a long time. Thanks for the tickets, man!”
“Don’t worry about it.” He waved his hand as if it were no problem. “So, is this Miss Mitchell? The one I’ve heard so much about?”
“Emma, let me introduce you to John Anderson. We went to acting school together.”
I thrust my hand out, but John pulled me in for a bear hug.
“Nice to meet you,” I said, suffocating in his embrace.
“So, James, what have you been doing lately? Haven’t heard from you in a while.” John let me go and gave his full attention to James. I, on the other hand, sneaked for the bottle of champagne and filled another glass. While sipping it, I looked at John’s body language. He had loads of confidence, and a small section of me thought he looked attracted to James… or maybe it was the drink talking.
Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door.
John apologised and left the room, saying, “I hope you two enjoy the show.”
We were escorted to a small box with four seats covered in velvet. In the middle of the front seats sat a coffee table with two glasses and another bottle of champagne on ice. Our seats faced the right-hand side of the stage, and while we waited, a waiter filled our glasses. To break the silence, I asked James how he and John became friends and why they’d lost contact. Something was bothering him, because I caught a glimpse of him biting his nails.
He hesitated and answered, “We studied drama together. Once we finished the course, we managed to get a few jobs together until we both tried for the part of Dr Frank-N-Furter from The Rocky Horror Picture Show. I thought he was going to try out for the character of Rocky Horror.” He took a deep breath and kept going. “He ended up getting the part, and I had to leave. I still think I looked better with the corset and suspenders than he did, but he had a flair for it.”
I was surprised how little I knew about him, the experiences he’d had. When we were teenagers, I knew him inside out. Now he seemed like a complete stranger.