Chapter 3 - A Quiet Night In

The journey which normally took her twenty minutes or so, depending on the time of day, had tonight taken over an hour.

Harry had stormed in through the front door feeling riled and angry at the world in general but particularly angry at Dempsey.

He's married! she thought again for the hundredth time as she slung her coat and bag on the bannister.

She stomped to the kitchen and was just about to open the fridge door when she remembered she'd finished off the last bottle of white with her supper the previous night.

Her eyes alighted on the wooden wine rack by the utility room door. Four bottles of red resided within the diamond shaped honeycombs; not her choice but brought by guests over a period of months, leftovers from various dinner parties.

She rarely drank more than one glass of red wine with a meal because any more was apt to give her a bad head, only tonight, she really didn't care. The wine experts proclaimed that only bad wine gave one a bad head.

"So let's see, shall we?" she murmured as she jabbed the corkscrew in.

By nine o'clock, Harry had eaten dinner, washed up, put a load in the washing machine and ironed the small stack of clothing that she had meant to do last weekend. Now, at a loose end, she poured a third glass of wine and sighed deeply.

So he was married.

So what?

How did that affect her exactly?

She swallowed down the mouthful of wine that she had unconsciously kept languishing in her mouth for the last few seconds.

Music!

That was what was required right now. Something loud and punchy to take her out of herself.

In the lounge, she selected the compilation tape she had bought on a whim recently; chart stuff, some of which she knew, some she didn't.

Two tracks in and she felt so much better; the wine was doing its job and was the catalyst for the upbeat effect of the music.

Glass number four had just been sipped at when the phone rang.

Smiling, she jigged her way into the study to take it, wine glass in hand, vaguely wondering if the music might be a tad too loud.

"Hello?" she called into the receiver.

There was a small pause at the other end before she got a response.

"Hey, Harry! It's me. What ya doin'?"

And what did he want? Surely he had other things to be doing right.

She swigged her wine defiantly. "I'm partying!"

And yes, the music obviously was far too loud, she could tell from the way Dempsey's voice had risen when he'd asked his question.

"Sounds like you're havin' fun." She heard the smile in his voice.

"Look, Harry, there's someone I'd really like you to meet…"

He'd got to be kidding hadn't he?

"Okay if we come over? Seems like a good opportunity."

She panicked for a moment, the wine floating fiery and weightless in her stomach.

"Sorry but we're just about to go out," she improvised. "It's a friend of a friend's birthday bash."

Why was she even bothering to lie to him? Why couldn't she just say that she wasn't particularly interested in meeting this wife of his? In fact, why wasn't she right now telling him what a lying, cheating piece of scumbag lowlife he was? Because the harder she berated him, the clearer her feelings for him would become and that, she couldn't bare; for him to know that he had any sort of emotional control over her was just unthinkable.

"Well, I'll catch up with you over the weekend then, okay?" he was shouting into the phone now. A new track had started, very loud and dynamic and his voice was in danger of drowning in the drum beat.

"What?" Harry shouted back.

"I said, we'll hook up over the weekend," Dempsey yelled.

Suddenly, Harry shrieked a single note of laughter into the receiver.

"You know what this song is, don't you Dempsey?" she asked with tipsy superiority.

"Sure I do. Call Me, Blondie," he told her.

"But it's just soooooo apt," she giggled and then added with a tinge of bitterness, "isn't it, James?"

"Errr, yeah, I guess." Dempsey sounded a little flummoxed. "I'm callin' you, you're a blonde, that kinda thing?"

"Amongst other things, 'detective'", she added with what she hoped was a cryptic twist in her tone although even to her own ears it sounded rather silly. "Must go, Margo says the taxis are arriving…byeeeee" and she slammed the phone down quickly before he had chance to say anything further.

He probably thought she was drunk – which she was, a bit – quite a bit. She raised the wine glass to her lips and it clinked against her front teeth as she drank.

Mmmm. Red wine really didn't suit her.

Harry's goin' out so I can't take you over there tonight," he told Toni, still looking at the receiver in his hand.

She'd sounded pretty tight; must've had everyone meet up at her place and start early.

"No problem," smiled Toni, taking a swig from the bottle of beer she held.

She slapped her left hand down hard onto his thigh as he came and sat back down beside her. It made him jump.

"Twitchy, Jimmy. So you gonna feed me or what?"

"Food?" he asked with mock incredulity.

Toni laughed. "Don't tell me you still don't keep food in the house. Haven't you grown up yet?"

"What is it with women and food?" he asked, rolling his eyes with a grin. "Why would I bother to cook for myself when I can get take-out?"

"But a woman is always impressed by a man who can cook a meal for her," Toni pressed.

Dempsey winked salaciously. "Ain't never had no complaints at breakfast time."

She playfully pushed the side of his head with the palm of her hand. "Same old Dempsey, huh?"

"Same old, same old." He reached over and pulled a stack of take-away menus out from under the coffee table and offered them to her.

"You choose."

And then, unfolding himself from the sofa, he made for the kitchen, waggling his beer bottle. "Flip you another cap?"

Toni tilted her head in acceptance. "You always did know the way to a girls' heart, Demp."

At the refrigerator, his thoughts slipped back to Harry. He wished that particular girl had come with a map – and maybe a compass too!

What was it with her anyways, always blowin' hot and cold. He enjoyed the cut and thrust of their banter, the teasing and flirting, hell, even naked hostility could be sexy comin' from Makepeace but surely there had to come a time when they could get over all of that and just… just… kind of enjoy each other, without any of the smarts. He'd gotten tired of playing the field a long time ago, well, six months ago which in Dempsey's book was a helluva long time. At first it had been the thrill of the chase, laying himself a little side bet on how long it would take him to get into the Ice Queen's pants but somewhere along the way, want had become fascination, then need until now…

He had a cheeseboard in his refrigerator for Christ's sake! Wine and beer and a cheeseboard – nothing else 'cept maybe a pint of milk on the point of crossing over the 'sell by' date. And why? Because after a night on the tiles, Harry always got the munchies and cheese and crackers was her 'thing'. But the really pitiable part?... she'd never even come back to his apartment after a big night out. Out of the few times they'd painted the town together, they'd always wound up back at her place! So here he was with Farmhouse Cheddar, Brie and Roquefort and a box of Harrods Assorted Luxury Biscuits for Cheese just waiting on stand-by. He'd bought them for no other reason than to please her, because he… what… 'liked' her so much it hurt?

Grabbing a bottle of Bud in each hand, he kicked the fridge door shut with his sock-clad foot.

"Besides," he shouted through to the lounge, "the Brits have such crappy little refrigerators, beer's practically the only thing there's room for."

"Whatever you say, Jimmy."

She absently pushed her hair back off her shoulders, sending a shimmering cascade of fire flowing down her back. "I'm up for Thai! Is that good for you?"

The last take-away meal he and Harry had shared had been off that menu – he'd meant to throw it away – way too heavy on the lemongrass.

He smiled suddenly, dredging up a half buried memory.

"Remember when you used to make us goulash, with that warm, crusty bread?" He smacked his lips at the thought. "Now that was home cookin'!"

"Yeaaah," she replied with a dreamy air, "and you used to burn us toast," she finished caustically.

They laughed and Dempsey dropped down into the corner of the sofa, drawing his legs up to recline comfortably. His train of thought following on from the food, he asked, "So you plannin' on visiting family while you're in Europe?"

"What, do the 'visiting the old country' thing you mean?" Toni smiled, making quotation marks in the air with her fingers.

"Yeah, why not?"

"For one thing, I don't actually know any of my relatives in Hungary and for another, it wouldn't be fair on Greg. We've only got three weeks and the plan was to do the four corners…hit the high spots of the British Isles."

"And you've taken time out to come to London and do me," he grinned wickedly.

Toni lifted the cushion wedged down by her side and threw it at him forcefully.

"I will never do you, Jimmy Dempsey so don't flatter yourself," she laughed.

"Hey, c'mmon, Babe, I don't remember seein' no piece o' paper sayin' we ever got a divorce! Don't I got conjugal rights?" he whined.

Toni shook her head, a huge grin lighting up her beautiful face.

"Dempsey, you're such an asshole."