Page 30 of Best Man (Close Proximity #1)

ELEVEN

ZEB

The knock on the door makes my stomach fill with butterflies but it doesn’t make me slow down in my rush to answer it. Just the knowledge that Jesse is on the other side makes my pace pick up.

I fling open the door and grin at him. “Somehow I thought that when I specified thirties dress you’d still come in that Sesame Street T-shirt.”

He grins at me, his smile wide and white. “ Sesame Street wasn’t around in the thirties.” He pauses. “Or was it? You’d know, being a child of that era.”

He saunters past me, squawking when I grab and kiss him. He relaxes against me and for a few minutes I lose track of time. When I put him away from me, his eyes are heavy-lidded, and I can feel my lips tingling. “Hello,” I whisper.

He steps closer and hugs me. “Hello,” he says with a smile. It’s powerful at such close range, and I swallow hard before stepping back.

“You look great,” I say hoarsely. He’s wearing a white shirt with a dickie bow, grey flannel trousers, and braces. His hair is pulled back loosely in a high topknot .

He grins. “Do you like the shoes? Charlie and I found them in a vintage shop in Islington.”

I smile down at the two-tone brogues. “They’re fantastic.”

“Never mind me,” he says slowly. “Look at you.”

I shrug, feeling suddenly awkward. “You like?”

He nods, slowly walking round me, examining the pinstripe suit, white shirt, and black tie.

“You look gorgeous,” he says and unselfconsciously rearranges the bulge in his trousers. “Tell me you’ve got a hat.”

I grin and reach for the black fedora on the side table and put it on, tilting it at a rakish angle.

“If I hadn’t instituted a no-sex ban, I would so fuck you right at this moment,” he breathes.

I grin at him. Somehow it’s become second nature to smile at him. He brings them out of me like the sun brings out the daisies.

“I could always alter the stupid parameters,” he suggests. “Fit in a blowjob.”

“I am not fitting in a blowjob,” I say indignantly. “They should be slow.” I wink at him. “And savoured.” He swallows hard, staring at me as if hypnotised, and I laugh. “As much as I hate to say it, there’s no time for sex, Jesse Reed. We’ve got a secret date to go to.”

He grins at me and then cocks his head, listening to the music drifting through the flat on the speakers. “What’s this song you’re playing?”

“Tim Booth and Angelo Badalamenti. It’s called ‘Fall in Love with Me’.” I swallow hard, hearing the words fall into the air between us.

He listens for a few seconds. “I like it.”

“My life is complete.” I laugh and edge out of his way as he pinches me. “Okay, are we ready?” I pick up my phone. “I’ve given the secret code, and they’ve sent me a location.”

“Are you intending to sell me or my organs?” he asks, and I choke on my spit.

“Not really,” I say mock apologetically. “I don’t think I’d get much cash for you, and I’m pretty sure you should maybe look at paying money for other people’s organs given your drinking history.”

He laughs. “Okay, not that. How about a secret sex den? ”

I make a buzzer noise. “It’s not very often you’re right, but you’re wrong again.” I hold out my hand. “Come on. I’ll tell you in the taxi. He’ll bugger off if we don’t go down soon.”

Once we’re in the taxi, I hold out my phone. “That’s where we’re going.”

He looks at the address. “That doesn’t tell me much.”

“Well, to be honest, you know as much as I do. I only get the address and a secret word to share to get in.”

“Is this like one of those films where foolish teenagers go somewhere to play a game and get picked off one by one? In which case I’m done for. I’m pretty, and I’ve had sex with you. I obviously therefore deserve to be struck through with a ship’s anchor.”

“I don’t think there are many of those in South West London,” I say dubiously.

He edges closer, and I feel my arm go up so he can lean into me. I hug him tight and marvel at the fact that he smells so wonderful and that my body is also operating completely independently of my brain nowadays.

“Tell me,” he whispers.

“I joined this club. It’s huge. Each month they hire a location and you have to put in your code to get the address. They send it to you and you have an hour to get there.”

“This is like being spies,” he marvels, and I kiss the top of his head, inhaling the faint scent of eucalyptus that clings to the shiny locks. “So, what happens when we get there?”

“I’m sorry,” I say smugly. “You don’t have the code. I can’t tell you. You’ll have to guess.”

His guesses get wilder and wilder, and I’m laughing as we get out of the taxi. “No to naked camel racing. Jesus Christ.”

He looks around. We’re standing outside what was obviously once a huge ballroom.

Its Art Deco exterior is still beautiful despite the faint air of neglect clinging to it.

His eyes sharpen as he looks at the queue of people waiting to get into the building.

They’re dressed in thirties costumes, the women glittering in the evening light in their pretty dresses, their hair arranged into jaunty bobs .

“Oh my God, this is already the best date I’ve ever been on,” he breathes, and I squeeze his hand.

“Me too,” I say softly. But it’s not because of the costumes or the air of excitement. It’s to do with him and the thought that I’d be happy walking round Sainsbury’s if I was with him. Nobody makes me laugh like him or challenges my brain so much.

I push the thought away and pull him over to the queue, which is moving quickly now that the doors have opened. Within five minutes, I’ve given the code to the bouncer dressed in a black suit with a white silk scarf thrown jauntily around his neck, and we’re inside.

Jesse looks around avidly as we move past people giving their coats to hat-check girls dressed in tight, black silk dresses. The huge double doors are thrown open, and I hear his gasp.

The inside of the Art Deco ballroom is huge.

A wide wooden dance floor is already half full of people dancing to the live jazz band that are playing, and the long bar is busy with people ordering cocktails.

But what makes it most magical is the fact that there are no overhead lights on.

Instead, it’s softly lit by huge lanterns and the candles that are everywhere, sending shadows dancing up the walls as if the ghosts of old partygoers are still around.

“Oh my God, this is like a film on prohibition I watched the other day,” Jesse shouts in my ear.

I smile and pull him close. “That’s what they’re emulating. They’ve taken over all sorts of venues, apparently. They set up and then pull it all down the next day and move on to another venue.” I look around. “I must say this is a good place, though. Very atmospheric.”

I pull him through the crowd to the bar, and after consulting him, I buy us each an Old Fashioned.

We move off to a gilt table tucked in the corner with a view over the dance floor.

A lively tune is playing, and for a few minutes we sip our drinks and watch people dancing.

It reminds me of an old newsreel film, watching the almost courtly movements. Very different from a nightclub.

Jesse edges close to me, throwing his arm around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder. “I love it,” he says fervently. “This is amazing. ”

I shoot him a look. He’s so beautiful this close up. “You really like it?”

He nods. “I’ve never done anything like this before. Thank you, sweetheart.”

“I thought we vetoed the endearments,” I say hoarsely, ignoring the thrill that went through me at hearing it.

He kisses me quickly and pulls back, leaving the faint taste of his cocktail on my lips. I lick over the taste.

“You vetoed it. I didn’t,” he says calmly and takes a sip of his drink. “Okay, why this for a date?”

“I wanted to do something different. I’d heard about this club where you pay membership, and they organise this, and thought you’d get a kick out of it.”

“I do,” he assures me, his eyes dark and shiny in the candlelight. “I really do.”

“And I like this era,” I say slowly. “It’s fun to dress up like this and be a part of this.”

“Why this era?”

I hum contemplatively. “It was a very glamorous time,” I finally say. “It reminds me of my grandfather. He used to sing in the clubs. He was offered a recording contract at one point. They wanted to set him up to rival Frank Sinatra.”

“Did he get it?”

I shake my head. “No. They wanted him to go to America and he’d met and fallen in love with my grandmother by then.”

“Did he regret it?”

“No, never. I asked him once and he said what could Hollywood offer him that he couldn’t find with my grandmother.

He said no woman could ever have been more beautiful than her.

It must have been the right decision. They were married for sixty years.

” I shrug. “I think they were a bit nonplussed by my father’s matrimonial habits. ”

He snorts. “Just a bit.” He takes off my hat and brushes my hair back from my forehead, his fingers cool against my skin. “Were you close to them?”

“Oh God, yes. They were wonderful. They looked after me when …” I hesitate.

“When my dad forgot to. My grandfather was a bookie. Un til the day he died, he would dress up in a full suit and his brown overcoat and his mates would come and pick him up and they’d go off to the pub.

My grandmother always wore makeup and had the biggest laugh.

She smelt of Charlie perfume,” I remember suddenly, marvelling at the way the memories are being pulled out tonight.

“And every night after dinner they’d put the stereo on and dance together to Frank Sinatra.

They died a week apart from each other. Like there was no real point when their other half was gone.

” I swallow, and he kisses me quickly. “So, I like this era and the music. They seem close to me somehow,” I say softly.

“My mum would tell you that the ones we love are never that far away.”

“Do you believe that?”