Addicted to Mr Parks (The Parks Series #2)(59)

“Then don’t tell him. He’s not your minder.” Her nonchalant shrug rubbed off on me, making me feel like the suggestion of telling Parks my real plans was ludicrous.

Of course he wasn’t my minder. I knew that. And she was right. I didn’t have to tell him, and I wish I could say “sod him” and leave it at that. However, thinking about lying to Parks was making my palms sweat, my heart race, and my anxiety levels smash through the roof. The only reason I didn’t want to tell him where I was going was because I didn’t want him to come and rain on my parade. I wasn’t only going out to accompany Tabby, it was to test myself. I knew damn well I could go to a nightclub and refuse a drink. I knew it.

The taxi arrived outside Project, and I got a text from Parks asking me if I was having a nice night and saying that he missed me. My heart sank like the Titanic. I wished I was home with him, or better still, actually with Steph like I said I was. Or at Nando’s.

“Wade?” Tabby rightly guessed.

“Yeah. I’m just gonna text him back.”

“Give me that,” she protested, swiping my phone out of my hand and throwing it into her bag.

“What are you doing?”

“No texts. You’re out to have a good time. Yes?”

My body sagged after I glared at her handbag, having the urge to rip it off her shoulder. “Agreed.”

We stepped out of the taxi and made our way to the club. Tabby had a quick word with the bouncer, and he led us straight through the double glass doors. Seemed the nightclub was only for elite members and those who had money. It did make me wonder how on earth Tabby had a membership there. She hardly had any money to live on, but she could afford a club membership? Maybe she was sleeping with the bouncer. I’d done it before, so I couldn’t judge.

Project was stylish and oozed decadence and sophistication. The music that night was house and techno and so loud I couldn’t hear myself think. Because I wasn’t getting drunk, it was bound to give me a headache. With that in mind, I was determined to have a good night. Alcohol could not rule my life.

“Let’s get to the bar,” Tabby shouted, pulling on my arm. I groaned but followed.

When we got there, I rested my arms on the bar and placed my bag beside them. At the worst possible moment, my bladder suddenly decided it needed emptying. “I need the loo. Just get me a water,” I yelled into Tabby’s ear. She held up her thumb, then pointed in the direction of the toilet. I was halfway through the crowd when I remembered I left my bag on the bar. As I switched direction, my focus came straight onto Tabby, who was already holding it in her hands, telling me she got it. Thank God. Nodding in relief, I pivoted on my heel and made for the toilets.

After emptying my bladder, I quickly made my way back into the club and spotted Tabby sitting at a nearby table. As I danced my way over, a smile crept up on my face. I was actually having a good time. No alcohol was needed. That was until I’d got to the table and saw Tabby had three bottles of Dom Pérignon around her.

“Tabby!” My eyes were wide as I stared at the expensive champagne. “I thought you were skint?” I didn’t want to reprimand her for drinking around me, because I could handle it. What I did want to scold her on was the fact she was living in a shithole and ordering two hundred and fifty pound bottles of champagne.

“I am.” She grinned, then fished something out of my bag. “But he’s not.” As she waved around the gold card Parks had given me, my heart rate plummeted.

“You used this?” I snatched the card from her hands.

“He said we could, didn’t he?”

My open mouth was speechless. “Are you f*cking crazy? He told me to use it because he thought I was going to a restaurant. Tabby, what the f*ck am I going to say when he sees this on his card?” I reached down and grabbed the bottles. “I’m taking them back. They need to take it off the card.”

Tabby quickly pushed to her heels and took the champagne out of my hands on a pout. “It’s done now. Relax.”

My body slumped down onto the chair. A million excuses were going around in my head, but not one seemed fit enough to tell him. Should I cut his card up and tell him I got mugged? That seemed the best scenario.

“Lighten up.” Tabby laughed, pouring herself the champagne and then downing it. Then I noticed a glass on the table that looked like water.


“Is this mine?”

“Oh yeah.” Tabby handed it to me. I took the glass with shaking hands as she eyed me up a little sheepishly. Right then I could have done with a stiff drink to calm my nerves and chase away the images of Parks and his awaiting Hulkness.

I took the glass to my lips, sipped at the liquid, and felt an instant burn, making me spit it out all over the table. “What the f*ck?” It was vodka.

She looked genuinely mortified. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. They must have got the order mixed up.” Oh great. The night was going perfect. Not. “Let me get you another.” Tabby was quick to rush to the bar. I didn’t follow her. My knees were knocking restlessly as I waited. And waited.

“You’ve been ages,” I told her when she finally arrived back at the table.

Handing me the drink, she nodded to it. “Water.”

“Thanks.” I placed the glass back down onto the table and caught Tabby frowning.