“A bet?” His eyes lit up. “Who with?”
Maddie sighed. “Elena.”
“Colour me shocked.” Simon grinned. “Now it all makes perfect sense. The boss you’re fixated on.”
“I’m not—”
“Mads, not sure if you’re aware, but you talk about her all the time. Elena thinks this. Elena’s won that. Well, I think she’s really hot—as in a swallow-your-own-tongue, super-villain kinda way. So I get it. So the bet’s about impressing her. That’s cool.”
God. This was the reason she hadn’t wanted to ask Simon for help. He knew her way too well. She gave him an aggrieved look. “You talk about Elena a lot too. It’s not just me.”
“Of course I do. I studied her business model at uni, along with those of Rupert Murdoch, Bill Gates, and Steve Jobs. And now my best friend is her PA—come on, that’s amazing. But, Mads, you don’t talk about her the way I do.”
Maddie gritted her teeth. This conversation was going nowhere safe. “Can we just focus? Look, the bottom line is, Natalii doesn’t know I want an interview with her mother. I’m being friendly and helpful, like showing her around wherever she wants to go tonight, and hoping to get in her good books and meet the mother later.”
“Intrigue! Gotcha. I can do that.” He gave her a kind smile. “But you do look extra freaked out. Is this your first gay club or something?”
She gave him a pained look.
“Figured. Hey, it’s cool. I’ve been to a gay club before. Remember Mitch? From footy? He asked me to be his wingman one time, so no worries, okay? Been there, done that. I’ve got your back—unless of course some gorgeous chick makes eyes at me and then, bam, under the official wingman rules, all bets are off.”
Maddie rolled her eyes. The odds of him being hit on by any woman at a gay bar were at sub-basement level. “Okay. Deal.”
* * *
It took Simon all of six minutes to be hit on by some cute woman and disappear from her side at Manscape on Oxford Street. How the hell did that even happen? Like, seriously. And how had that awful pick-up line even worked?—“Hey, I’m not gay or bi, but I am Lebanese!” followed by snorts of laughter.
Clinging to her overpriced espresso martini and watching Simon’s retreating back in dismay, Maddie turned to find Natalii staring at her.
“Why would you take us to a club for the hommes?” the Frenchwoman demanded. Natalii looked super hot tonight, in tight, black leggings, white T-shirt, and a slinky jacket of faux snake skin. At least Maddie hoped it was faux. “Do I look like I want to oogle-oogle at the boys?”
Maddie gave her a feeble smile. “I’m really sorry. Simon said the place is usually mixed. Tonight’s some special thing.”
“Oh oui, Simon! Your obviously not-gay ami. He flirted with me the moment we met.”
“Um… Yeah, he does that. He’s incorrigible around pretty women. Sorry.”
“Mm,” Natalii said, but she appeared mollified at having been called pretty. “And so where are the rest? Your other friends? The lesbiennes?”
Maddie reddened and stared at her drink, hoping a nice sink hole would open up and swallow her. “Does a Lebanese friend count?” She gave a pained chuckle.
“Terrible joke.” Natalii glared at her and folded her arms.
“I don’t have any.” Maddie’s admission made her feel like the worst loser. “No gay amis.”
“How is that possible? This is Sydney! Mardi Gras, Oxford Street! You work in fashion!”
“I lost touch with my exes. And I worked a lot of night shifts.”
Natalii studied her for a few moments before apparently deciding she was sincere in her loser status. “Okay.” She whipped out her phone. “I shall be the one to find us some fun.” She tapped a few buttons and made some swipes across her screen. “First, we go to Butch and Femmes.” A tap. “Then Lady Luck. Then Pinkheart.” Tap, tap. “Then Grrl Fantasy. Oui? They are all within walking distance. Your Oxford Street has much convenience.”
* * *
It was past three in the morning by the time Maddie crawled out of the last nightclub. Natalii and her exotic accent had been popular with the clientele, and even Maddie, to her embarrassment, had to dodge phone numbers waved her way. She hated being the centre of attention, but with Natalii next to her, it was hard to avoid.
“Tsk, non,” Natalii had declared sternly at one woman who tried to practically hump Maddie’s leg on the dance floor. “Mon ami is off the table. She loves a scary woman who would drown you in masses of dead blooms. She is not for you. Go!”
“I don’t lovvve her, Nat,” Maddie said, slurring and feeling more than a little merry for all the free drinks that had come their way. “I mean, I don’t think so. But thanks anyway.”
“So you keep telling me. But there is too much of the protesting. Not just on your lips but in your eyes. And now it is time we go home. But first, I have something I must do.” She pulled out her cell phone and made a call, speaking in rapid French. “It is done.” She gave a taunting smile and eyed Maddie. “Outside now. We must wait for the ride and then…skyfire.”
Skyfire? Maddie’s pleasantly buzzed brain turned that one upside down and all around, unable to fathom what it meant. She followed Natalii outside and shivered against the cold. Her jeans, long-sleeved T-shirt, and leather jacket were no defence against Sydney’s frigid, early morning air.
Within fifteen minutes, a limousine turned up and, hot on its trail, a clutch of paparazzi on motorbikes and in cars.
Véronique Duchamp slid out of the back seat and tottered over on skewer-thin stilettos, screeching at her daughter in French with a sprinkling of English. Maddie worked out only about two words in every ten. The gist was something about her daughter ditching the ball and asking if this was where she’d been all night. And then, in sharp English, who the gutter wench was beside her.
Gutter wench?
“And so it goes, ma chérie,” Natalii muttered to Maddie with an expression that was both amused and rueful. “Maman disapproves of me. And you. Of course she would hate you much worse if she knew your boss’s name. Worse still if she knew what it was you were really up to tonight, oui?”
“Up to?” Maddie swallowed. “What do you mean?”
Natalii whispered in her ear. “You think you are the first to try and get to my mère through me? Tsk, Madeleine, I thought you realised I was smarter than that. No one can use my hotel’s gym without actually staying there. So your motives? Already I knew. But you were also honest about knowing me. I could see you were so confused about your lady. Your eyes? They are so…what is the word…wistful when you speak of her. So I got a fun evening, and I think you got an education on what else there is out there. And now, I give you a gift of the skyfire.”
With that, Natalii took her in her arms, dipped her, and kissed her thoroughly as the frenzied paparazzi snapped pictures. Flashes lit up the street. Out of the corner of her eye, Maddie was dimly aware of Véronique stabbing her finger towards Maddie as she shrieked at them.
Natalii let her up and winked.
