Partners In Crime

1• I need your help

'Meet me at Tranquility's restaurant at 7. I need your help.'

Marina's best friend, Solana, hadn't needed help in a while. When she did, she knew something was seriously wrong.

She figured this note slipped under her door had something to do with her upcoming wedding, an extravagant affair arranged by Solana's father and the owner of Tranquility Hotel, Mr Kane.

She was seated at the restaurant's bar a few minutes early, an old spark brewing at the anticipation of her friend's proposition. One she'd missed.

"What can I get you, madam?" said the bartender to her, fazing her out of the corridors in her mind.

A man in a black waistcoat and a bowtie of the finest violet velvet. Behind him, a colourful display of alcohol encased in glass bottles, refracting the evening light in all different directions. She propped her elbows up on the marble counter, reading the man's name tag; she already knew exactly what she was ordering.

"A margarita please, Mark. And pop in a paper umbrella, would you?"

The restaurant at Tranquility Hotel was the crown jewel of all high-end restaurants. The wide space gleamed in a golden glow from a chandelier, resting on potted palms and on the royal purple uniforms of the employees. 

A grand piano stood in the centre of the room, someone musing a pleasant dinner piece. The views outside pictured the rolling hills of the countryside and a beautiful garden of roses, although they were more impressive when they weren't cloaked by the night.

Light society chatter filled the room. People who were miles away from Marina in terms of their reeking decadence conversed at their tables, nursing their giggle juice. Her eyes caught on a couple at one table, warmth in their angel eyes, their budding relationship being possibly the best thing in the world to them in that one moment. 

Her breath hitched. Theo used to look at her like that. If his and Marina's romance was doomed, who's to say the new couple's wasn't?

The clink of the margarita glass on the countertop shocked her for a second.

"Pink paper umbrella and all, miss."

She forced a polite smile on her face for the bartender, bringing the salted rim to her lips. The sharp citrusy tequila stung her taste buds.

And then, like callbacks to the past was what Tranquility did best, Marina's eyes landed on a familiar looking face.

She almost didn't recognise him. The last time she met with Alex Turner, his hair was cheek length and wild, the devious grin sneaked safely inside, leather jacket tight. He wore the same leather jacket tonight, Marina noticed, but he popped its collar. His dark brown locks were cut and slicked back on the sides, the front cascading over his forehead. 

He was busy drinking some beer, the head tilt revealing a familiar chain. No doubt his new international rock-stardom had changed his appearance.

Needless to say, Marina's blood flushed downwards in her body, her mouth having nothing to do but bite on the glass rim. At least with the dishevelled look, recurring feelings were easier to push to one side. He'd made her job significantly harder now. 

She didn't realise she was staring until he dropped his gaze back down, meeting her eyes. The russet glare fixated on her like it had always done, plunging her into nostalgia, as did the snarky grin forming on each of their faces. They knew it wasn't a coincidence they were both here.

He got up, leisurely, from the bar stool where he was sitting. So close yet so far away. The wait for him to arrive was agonising, as she found herself thinking of a witty first-line to someone she already knew. And knew well.