around Quinn like wasps around an open can of Coke.
‘So are you going to cater for me? I absolutely need you to cater for me,’ Michael carried on, bringing George back to his conversation.
‘I’d be delighted to, but I am pretty booked up, I mean... ’ George started.
‘Cancel them! Cancel them all! We will pay you twice what they are paying you. No! Make that three times, in fact, name your price! We have another four nights of concerts here, could you cater the after-shows? Vary the menu? Whip up some new creations every night? Could you George? It would make me so happy. Look at all these happy , smiley people and your very empty silver dishes. They all have expressions of deep delight because of your marvellous culinary expertise,’ Michael rambled on.
‘Well, I guess ... ’ George began.
‘Marvellous! That’s settled! Now, tomorrow night, I would quite like to see what you can do with lamb. I like a bit of lamb, but not with anything minty, too tart. Surprise me,’ Michael ordered and he let out a hearty laugh that was heard at the other side of the room.
‘No problem,’ George answered tentatively, wracking her brain for a long forgotten about recipe.
‘Oh goody!’ Michael said, clapping his hands together in delight.
George looked over at Adam again. He and Quinn were engaged in what seemed like a deep conversation, completely oblivious to the presence of the beautiful women encircling them. Adam was leading the talk. George watched as he passed his platter to one of the women in the group and then suddenly he and Quinn were studying each other’s hands.
‘So you’re a student,’ Quinn spoke to Adam.
‘Yeah, I’m at uni, in Wales, got another year to go, but I gig with my band. I mean, w e’re nothing like you guys but... ’ Adam started, blushing.
‘Hey, we all started gigging in bars,’ Quinn answered, taking another canapé.
Is that where he had started? Had he gigged in bars? He had no idea, but it seemed the right thing to say. George was smiling and laug hing with Michael. She was drop- dead gorgeous when she smiled, her hair dropped slightly over her face and her eyes lit up.
‘So, how come you’re here?’ Quinn asked Adam.
‘Here’s home. My sister runs the catering company, Finger Food. Over there,’ Adam indicated, pointing her out.
This was great, he had engaged in conversation to take his mind off the caterer and now he was being made to look at her again.
She glanced over and Quinn felt something inside him lurch. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was unexpected. God, he definitely didn’t want the pole dancer tonight. No, it had to be her, Miss Finger Food. But he needed to play it right.
It was 3.00am before all the guests had left. The Hexagon staff had finished tidying the bar area and George, Helen and Curly Shirley were almost at the end of clearing up the kitchen.
‘Van’s loaded up, ready to go; waitresses have gone off in taxis and Tom’s gone on to another party. Some ex-girlfriend of his wants to rekindle things I think. Marisa’s waiting in the van,’ Adam informed as he re-entered the kitchen.
‘OK, well Helen and Cur - I mean Shirley - why don’t you go with Adam and Marisa in the van. I can finish tidying up here,’ George suggested.
‘Oh George are you sure? I mean I can stay and finish that washing up if you like,’ Helen began, preparing to grab the dishcloth.
‘Boss says go Helen, you don’t quibble about it,’ Shirley remarked, putting a vice like grip on her friend’s arm.
‘Helen you look done in. It’s been a really busy day and you’re heading up the sixty fifth birthday party tomorrow afternoon. Go home, get some sleep and I don’t want to see you until at least ten tomorrow . And Shirley, thanks for all your help, you’ve been brilliant,’ George said.
‘Did you hear that Helen? I’ve been brilliant. How brilliant exactly? Triple time brilliant?’ Shirley asked, cracking a crooked
Massimo Carlotto, Anthony Shugaar