Second Hand Love (eBook)

J. P. Caulden (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2016 | 1. Auflage
100 Seiten
First Edition Design Publishing (Verlag)
978-1-5069-0119-0 (ISBN)

Infos

Ida Solomon led an uneventful life in St Lucia till she bumped into playboy Marcel Aubertine II. By the end of the week, they are inseparable, but the path of true love is rarely straight. Islander Clem Rochard wants Ida for himself, and sets a plan of action in place. Marcel's father, Victor Aubertine, has plans of his own. None include Ida. One night, the lives of all are changed forever

Textauszug

Chapter Four

 

The car meandered through the main thoroughfare as Marcel drove slower than a preacher leaving church.

It worked.

It always did.

Women clamoured to admire the Adonis on Pirelli tyres. Wide-eyed girls elbowed each other as the petrol powered chariot passed, while veterans of bygone love reminisced on escapades of a sepia era. Marcel chattered nonstop about yet another woman, not that Clem gave a damn for any of them.

 “I’m hungry.”

“Where do you want to eat?”

 “Somewhere you can sit for a while.” Wearing Marcel’s dainty shoes were a colossal mistake.

“Big Jim’s.”

“The Spice Pagoda.”

“It’s too far. The Pink Elephant.”

Clem had big plans for one of the waitresses working there before her dog-faced man began to make plans about him. He made it a top priority to frequent the premises at all hours to ensure his girlfriend stayed just that. His.

“I don’t like it there.”

 

They drew up outside The Pink Elephant and piled out, past the quartet of police officers who loitered beside the No-Parking sign. Peaked hats pushed back on close-cropped hair, polyester ‘Stay-Pressed’ trousers riding high on regulation boots.

“Bonjour Monsieur Marcel.” The officers touched their caps as one as they glared at Clem, who stood a little taller and tilted his head a little higher. With Marcel beside him, the police could do nothing about his little problem without invoking the wrath of the country’s biggest non-religious employer upon them. Not that Victor Aubertine had ever met him, but the police didn’t know that.

The owner scuttled out of his cubbyhole by the main doors as they approached.

“Welcome, Monsieur Marcel. It’s such a pleasure to see you.” The aggrieved party of six tutted and clucked with displeasure as they were corralled to a less desirable location. The owner spared Clem a brief nod which told him all he needed to know. The restaurateur had not forgotten the theft of a trio of whiskey bottles the previous month.

He gave his best megawatt smile in return. Marcel waved off the proffered menu.

“Get me a large gin.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll have the chicken and avocado with pine nuts.”

Clem leisurely calculated the black market price of the Oriental wall hangings suspended from the candyfloss walls and elegant ebony lacquered furniture, for future reference.

“A particularly good choice, sir.” Mr. Simmons kept his eyes fixed on Marcel. “What now, Clem?”

 “Let’s see.” He flicked open the menu with a flourish. “What smells good?”

Clem savoured the intense aroma of delicately spiced flying fish and fragrant herbs that tickled his nostrils and fired his taste buds.

“I’ll have your deep fried lobster tails with rum sauce. No, I’ll take the tuna steak.”

A snatch of the menu brought it to rest under the crook of the restaurant owner’s elbow.

Clem tore the fold of plastic from under the man’s’ pudgy joint.

“I’ve changed my mind. I’ll take the smoked salmon club sandwich with a side order of scallops. No avocado, extra -” The owner scuttled off to the kitchen to declare war on the chef leaving a cobweb of annoyance lingering in the air.

“You should watch what you say to that man. I don’t know what you did to him, but he looks as though he would like to squash you rather than…”

“Than what?”

Clem glanced up to find Marcel staring at his left ear. “What?”

“Not you.”

Marcel listed to one side for a better view. Laughter emanated from the main doors, siphoning all conversation in the overcrowded room. Clem followed the trail of admiring glances to a group of women awaiting attention. A petite woman in the group, with skin the hue of creamy Blue Mountain coffee, negotiated the seating arrangements with her heavyset companion while another lady chatted with her companion. Brushing the six-foot mark with cascading chestnut hair, she reminded Clem of a willow tree, but it was the girl hovering in the doorway that captured his interest. Ida was a beacon among the mediocre. It wasn’t just her exquisite looks, but her poise and style that made the others seem clumsy in comparison. In her silky, midnight-coloured dress with a buttermilk cardigan draped over her shoulders, she looked sophisticated in her kitten heels among the bobbysoxers and two-tone shoes scattered about the plush restaurant. Clem cast a quick glance back at Marcel as he sat transfixed. Ida peeled her white gloves off and popped them into her ornate bag. Her hands self-consciously stroked the base of her neck, curving up to push back escaped strands of thick ebony tresses, fastening them under her minuscule stylish hat.

Clem gaped at Marcel and the ladies in turn.

It wasn’t long before the women were seated in a corner by the window, sipping lemonade and exchanging juicy snippets of conversation as they waited to order.

Marcel grinned, exposing perfect teeth.

“Isn’t she fantastic?”

“She’s okay, I suppose.” Clem squinted back in puzzlement. "Which one?" He had his eye on one of the girls, but sure as hell was not going to tell Marcel. Too many times he had done so only to be outmanoeuvred by his friend in his stupid game of one-upmanship.

Marcel hooked the arm of a passing waitress.

“Are those ladies' regulars?”

The bony young girl stared wide-eyed at Marcel as if she had never seen such a handsome man whose face wasn’t in a Hollywood film.

“No, Monsieur.

Marcel looked so crushed, Clem almost felt sorry for him.

“I know it’s the smallest lady’s birthday though, her name is Ruth Germaine. They booked the table ages ago.” She blushed as Marcel furnished her with a hopeful smile.

“Send a bottle of your best champagne to their table with our compliments.”

A shy nod of her head and the girl disappeared. Moments later the bottle arrived at the table to the delight of the women. A quick comment in Ruth’s ear passed on to the other girls soon had all eyes focused on Marcel. Ida fluttered her fingers at them from across the restaurant.

Marcel had risen before her hand reached her lap. He strutted across the floor skirting tables with the easy grace of someone used to being the epicentre of all attention, leaving Clem behind at their table, and greeted Ida. Pushing into the booth between Ida and Willow, Marcel made himself comfortable. She eagerly introduced him to little Ruth, Helen the willow tree, and bubbly Celine, who were all soon under his influence and were getting on just dandy. Seeing Marcel wasn’t returning anytime soon, Clem sauntered over, introduced himself and squeezed into the corner of the booth.

Nobody noticed.

 

Willow seemed to be a woman who knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to take it. She batted her eyelids furiously, which looked like she had a nervous twitch as the other refused to cooperate, much to Clem’s entertainment.

The eye in question also appeared to be looking over Marcel’s shoulder, with nobody quite knowing what to make of it as a whole, seeing it was casting a gaze independent of its counterpart.

 

The evening was a success or a failure depending on the point of view. Marcel and Ida drank far too much champagne and chattered endless nonsense. Marcel twirled and twiddled with a lock of Ida’s hair until Clem was ready to stab him with his fish fork. Ida was clinging so tightly to Marcel’s chest; she might as well have been another rib.

The evening drew to a close, so the two lovebirds decided to take a trip up to Pigeon Point.

To gaze at the sunset over the placid glass of the Caribbean Sea, compared to the angry turquoise of the Atlantic waters on the other side of the sandbank, they claimed.

It was bullshit.

They were going to have sex.

Things were not so good for Clem.

 

Left with the other women to deal with, he had plenty to occupy him. Thank God Willow had taken her leave early on, but not without making sure her friends knew she was upset about not getting a chance to flirt with the best looking man on the island.

Clem did his best with the intellectually superior Tiny and Bubbles, but by the end of the night, he felt like an old shoe between two mischievous puppies.

 

Clem slammed the misshapen door shut. He hurled the bag of dinner scraps across the tiny one room shack, startling a teacup sized spider from its home on the makeshift table. Inside, humidity clung to the stale...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 15.2.2016
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Krimi / Thriller / Horror ► Krimi / Thriller
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• ISBN-10: 1-5069-0119-0 / 1506901190
• ISBN-13: 978-1-5069-0119-0 / 9781506901190