Seven Days: The Complete Story by Lindy Dale Read Free Book Online Page A

white collar and pink
piping but it’s no less tight. I can see her red polka dot bra
quite clearly where the buttons are gaping at her cleavage. Her
boobs look as if they’d be happy to escape it. I’ve never seen the
allure of getting your boobs out like that… but then I’d have to
have a push-up bra with extra push to achieve anywhere near close
to her level of boobage.
    “I don’t have
a reservation but is there any chance of a table for one?” I
ask.
    “We’re fully
booked,” she replies. “But let me see what I can do.” She glances
back to the reservations and then around the room a couple of
times. She’s being far more amiable tonight and I’m thinking she
doesn’t see me as competition standing here in my white maxi dress
looking like I’m about twelve. Emily hates it when I wear this
dress, she says its too baggy, that I look like I’ve escaped from a
nativity play and all I need is some tinsel on my head to transform
me into an angel. I like it. I like white. I watch the server as
she sucks on the end of her pen, thinking. I bet if Nicholas were
here things would be different. She’d be giving me daggers for
sure, like she did the other night but she’d find us a table
without any wait. I wonder briefly what Nicholas is doing, how his
work thing went, if it’s completed. More to the point, I wonder if
he’ll be here.
    Okay. I hope
he’ll be here. Yes, I hope.
    The girl leans
across the desk. “The couple in the corner have finished mains.
They only have dessert and coffee left. Would you like me to
reserve that table for you? You can have a drink at the bar. I’ll
come and get you when the table’s free.”
    I nod and
smile. “Cool. Thanks.”
    I walk around
the corner of the bar and take a seat on one of the high stools. I
order another frozen margarita. It tastes way better than the ones
I made for myself and before I realise I’ve finished it and ordered
another with a bowl of nuts to nibble on while I wait.
    Over in the
corner, a band starts playing. It’s only a guitarist, a keyboard
player and a guy on double bass but they sound good and their music
selection is the stuff people like to dance to. The interior lights
have been dimmed and out on the beach the moon has risen and is
casting a silvery glow over the water. There’s a warm breeze
fanning through the palm trees by the beach. It’s like a picture
perfect holiday brochure, like a movie set for a romantic island
honeymoon.
    A man comes up
and sits on the empty stool beside me. He’s wearing the cliché
Hawaiian shirt in orange and beige and matching chino shorts with
more pockets than should ever be allowed on a pair of pants.
“Hello,” he says.
    “Hello.”
    “I saw you
enjoying the music. Do you want to dance?” He gives me an expectant
smile and though I’m assaulted with the stench of
too-much-garlic-for-dinner, I know I’m going to dance with him.
I’ve never been able to say no for fear it might hurt the other
person’s feelings. It’s only three minutes of your life, after
all.
    “Sure.”
    His grin
widens as I hop off my stool and we head into the middle of the
small area used as a dance floor. A few other couples are there, so
we don’t look as obviously ridiculous as if we were dancing
alone.
    Which might be
a good thing after seeing the way he dances. His legs are like
heavy lumps of concrete and keeping in time doesn’t appear to be
his forte. His arms, by contrast, seem to want to flap like a bird,
so much so that he almost whacks me in the eye. Fortunately, I have
quick reflexes and am able to duck in time.
    “Oops, sorry,”
he says as he reaches over to stop me from falling. Then, “I’m
John.”
    “Sadie.”
    “Have you been
in the bay long, Sadie?” His flapping motions are becoming more
frenzied and I fear he may take off at any second. Lucky he has
those lumps of concrete where his legs should be.
    “A while.”
    He shuffles
closer and does a funny side movement that reminds me of