Chapter 5

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He bought a Bacardi and coke for Claire. With ice. Everyone likes ice in their Bacardi and coke. Hopefully. He paid for the drink and headed back to where Claire was.

He passed Jenny again, as she was on her way out, and caught hold of her arm.

"Wish me luck," he said to her solemnly, and waited for some form of encouragement.

"Right," said Jenny, coldly. Without smiling, she shook him off her arm, and strutted away.

"Jenny?" he called after her.

He watched her as she walked out of the building and onto the pavement outside. He told himself that her hostile behaviour was probably because she was with Lucy Lightfoot. And two guys that he did not know.

He shrugged and headed on, getting more and more nervous with each step he took. When he had seen Claire for the first time that night, she had looked like a supermodel. Her beautiful face was almost unrecognisable for all of her make-up, and she wore an unavailable expression. She bared rather too much flesh for his liking. It had put him off a little.

He thought, slowly, to himself. Remember the rules. Be yourself. Be confident. Be brief. Number four.... That's it, expect the worst. And the two new rules. Nothing to lose. Say it, over and over again in your head. Straight to the point. "I like you, Claire." Over and over again in my head.

Paul took a deep breath and prayed he would not make a total fool of himself.

"I like you, Claire," he repeated in his head, over and over.

"I like you, Claire." He was drawing closer to her now.

"I like you, Claire." He could almost hear himself say it.

"I like you, Claire." He could hear it so clearly........... But wait!

He could hear it so clearly. He was not imagining it. Those words had been said.

"I like you, Claire."

And it was not his voice that had spoken them!

"I like you, Claire," the voice had said. "I like your style."

Paul stared in disbelief. The voice came from a guy who had taken a seat next to Claire.

He went on. "Well, what do you say, eh?" This person was sophisticated and stylish. Suddenly, Paul's world began to cave in all around him.

"Yeah," said Claire, huskily. "That would be.... perfect!" She fluttered her eyelashes.

"Perfect? Better than that, surely!" he went on. "Phenomenal! My name's Kye. Kye Johnson. Junior. And if you think the name's excellent, wait until you get to know me...but enough of this Hideaway. Let's move on."

Kye led a smiling Claire away through the departing crowds, where they both disappeared from sight. Paul stood incredulously for a few more seconds, then took the seat which Claire had vacated, and drank the Bacardi and coke himself, solemnly, in the lonely, emptying bar.


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