Quentin

Someone was shaking his shoulder and calling his name. 'Quentin, Quent! Wake up! We need to speak about things! Come on, will you just wake up now?'

'Fuggoff, I'm sleepin',' croaked Quentin, flailing a hand and squeezing his eyes shut as if to hold onto the last threads of sleep.

'Oh, will you get a move on?' It was Ade, his voice now distinctly further away. Thank Christ the shoulder shaking had come to a halt, but suddenly the insides of Quentin's eyes burned a bright red. Apparently Ade had thrown open the curtains.

'...the fuck?' Quent muttered, shielding his eyes with his hand. 'Where's the bloody fire, Ade?'

'The bloody fire's right here in the bloody tabloids, you idiot! What were you thinking?' Adrian threw a paper on the bed and looked at it disdainfully.

'Ohhh...' moaned Quentin from under his hand when the recollection of the previous night came back to him. 'Fuck, fuck, fuck... Uh... time is it, Ade?'

'It's almost noon, and you need to get up. Taryn's on her way over.'

Quentin opened his eyes wide and shot up into a sitting position, immediately clutching his head. 'Christ,' he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut again and muttering, only barely intelligible: 'Taz... Wha... uh, the fuck ya mean... she comin' 'ere? Fuck's sake...' He rubbed his hands over his face a couple of times then finally pulled himself together and turned a pair of bloodshot eyes on Adrian. 'Why the fuck is she on her way over, Ade?'

'I thought you might be able to tell me that. She sounded upset. She was very apologetic, ringing me out of the blue like that, but she asked if she could possibly stay here for a night or two. Said she didn't know who else to call on... Of course, I said yes. She's a lovely girl, and very welcome to stay over for as long as she likes...'

'...she know I'm here?' Quentin's voice came, hardly more than a whisper. His face felt like a tight mask, which had absolutely nothing to do with him being hung over.

'No she doesn't. And I didn't tell her. However, I do think it would be wise if you made yourself a mite more presentable. No doubt she'll have picked up on your latest, um, endeavour in the night life of London, and I could very well imagine it may not put you in a very favourable light in her eyes.'

Quentin swung his legs over the edge of the bed with a soft groan, and sat looking up at Adrian. 'Ade, she won't be happy to see me period. No matter what else I've done – oh yeah, don't worry, I remember yesterday night well enough, don't even have to read this shit, here,' he hit the crumpled tabloid on the bed with the flat of his palm, 'I know exactly what they'll be saying about me, fuck them.' He groggily got to his feet.

'So what were you doing, if I may be so bold?'  Adrian asked pointedly.

Quentin stood in the middle of the room, looking to the left and right, visibly unsure of what to say or do next. 'Uh...' he muttered, 'Shower. Yeah. Where's my kit? Uh... What was I doin'? Well, I was just... I couldn't sleep, I felt restless after seeing Tazzie's book, after... you know, bein' back here at your place... Haven't been here since... you know? It got a bit much, and I thought I'd just nip out for a quick one... Was this girl... uh... at that pub... I'd had a few already, and she looked so much like...' Quentin suddenly turned to Adrian and fixed him with his signature intense stare, finally finding his focus. 'She made me think of her. Of Taz. And no, I haven't a clue why the fuck she'd come here. I haven't seen her or spoken to her since I went to the States last year, due to my own stubbornness and stupidity. But I can't seem to stop thinkin' of her of late, and I reckon I just lost my head when I saw that sheila in that bloody pub. And it wasn't like she was complaining either. Well, not at first anyway...'

Here, he paused, looking at Ade with something between a look of defiance and a plea in his eyes. He bit his lip, gave a one-shouldered shrug then grabbed his toiletry bag, and disappeared into the attached bathroom with an, 'I'll be there in a sec,' over his shoulder.

Taryn

Her bag got heavier by the minute. Why did she have to be so stupid to try and pack everything at once when she escaped from Vince's flat? They were still on speaking terms and he'd assured her he'd help moving her stuff back to her flat.

Her flat... Jesus Christ, she couldn't bear going back to the place. She'd have to, at some point, because she was definitely moving when she came back from her American adventure, but right now she just couldn't bring herself to set one foot over the threshold. She'd ridden the tube in desperation for hours, not really knowing where to go, mentally flipping through her Rolodex of friends.

It wasn't that she didn't have any close mates; she just didn't want to show up unannounced on the doorstep of a mother of three rambunctious toddlers, or get sucked into the difficult and painful life of a recent divorcee... She had to dismiss every one of her pals as a possible shelter: either she'd be a massive burden to them, or she felt like she wouldn't be able to handle their lifestyle. Or their

curiosity.

She wasn't in the mood for explanations, hell, she didn't even understand it herself why she'd ended it with Vince so abruptly. He'd been really sweet to her, and she thought she'd honestly given it a try. Thought that just forging onward into a new relationship could make the old wounds heal over more quickly. But it hadn't worked; all Quentin had needed to do was show up on her side of the Atlantic and her whole carefully constructed new life came crumbling down around her.

So, sitting on the circle line, going round and round, she'd thumbed through her phone’s address book over and over again until, gathering her courage, she'd phoned Adrian. She'd kept his number in her mobile all this time, as a small and silent reminder of happier times. Just like Quentin's ring, that she still wore on a chain around her neck. She couldn't part with that either.

Thank God Ade had said yes, without hesitation. He'd been very nice to her, and now she was dragging herself and her stuff from the nearest tube station to his place. She felt emotionally exhausted, but also strangely liberated. It had only been a few weeks she'd been with Vince, maybe a month and a half at most, but it had been intense, overwhelming, and, well, it just hadn't been what she really wanted. She'd tried to run from the truth and now she was paying the price.

It was amazing how understanding Vince had been, when she'd finally told him.

'Is it the ex?' he'd quietly asked.

She'd nodded, not knowing what to say.

'Well, Taryn, we'll still be friends, right?'

She'd nodded again.

'So perhaps, when you can finally let go of this chap, we could...' he'd left it hanging in the air, and again she had nodded; it had been the only thing she could think of at the time. She knew she was giving him false hope, but she really didn't want to hurt his feelings any further. It wasn't his fault after all; he was a good bloke, only he wasn't for her...

Ruminating, she'd reached Adrian's front door. She rang the bell, dropping her heavy bag at her feet and hanging her head.

The door flew open, she saw a pair of bare feet, and she felt a strange yet familiar tingle race through her body. Her head shot up. And there, holding the door open, was the embodiment of her greatest wish, her deepest fear...

Quentin.

Dressed in faded, holed jeans and a washed-out tee of some nondescript colour, his shoulder-length bleached hair wet and slicked back. Looking bloody fantastic, looking fit and solid and… feeling harried, haunted, dead-tired and fraught, underneath...

She looked at him without speaking, without moving a muscle. She wouldn't have known how, had she wanted to. She took all of him in, drank him in with her eyes. His looks, his emotions. Her soul hummed.

He looked back at her, equally speechless, until he suddenly found his voice and croaked: 'Ta... Tazzie... Come in, uh... I'll help you with your bag... Christ, come in, are you.... are you all right, is anything the matter? Taz?'

She didn't respond, so he simply picked up her bag and carried it into the hall. She followed him in a daze.

'What… what on earth are you doing here?' she finally managed to say to his broad back.

'Uh...' he turned, put down the bag and took an involuntary step closer to her, 'I'm staying with Ade for the weekend... he had a... a rough cut he wanted me to see and, um... he phoned, last Wednesday…' he flapped a hand, 'I could hitch a ride on a jet my mate Peter owns, so I just… you know?' He breathed in and out, trying to get a handle on himself, then asked: 'Where, what... why are you here? Tazzie? Are you all right, at all? Um...'

She swallowed as ratio kicked in. She should say something like it's none of your business mister, how I feel, what I do, with whom I stay, and why... She should be furious with him, for never ringing her, for staying in her thoughts and her heart so stubbornly, for making such an embarrassing spectacle of himself in the papers. He was an inconsiderate, egotistical bastard and she should get away from him as far and as quickly as possible.  She looked at him for just a tick

longer, frowned, then grabbed her bag off the floor and made to turn for the still open front door.

'No... NO! Tazzie!' Quent grated out, and he leapt forward and grabbed the bag by the handles. He tugged, spinning her around. She immediately let go of the bag and almost lost her balance, feeling drained and confused and jarred and hounded. She whimpered pitifully.

Quent dropped the bag and wrapped her up in his arms without the slightest hesitation, pulling her close to him. It was like their bodies remembered how they once belonged together; they melted against each other and Tazzie felt a deeply hidden and almost forgotten sob clutch at her throat. Quentin whispered something into her hair that sounded suspiciously like 'Don't leave me,' and he slowly rocked her in his embrace.

'Ah, Taryn, there you are!' Adrian made his way into the hall and smiled broadly, seeing them in each other' s arms.

At the sound of Ade's voice, Quentin reluctantly let Tazzie slip from his embrace but grabbed her hand as if to make sure that she wouldn't try to escape again.

Taz stood there, her hand in Quentin's; that heat, that connection between them buzzing in her system. It was unbelievable how good it felt. It was like they'd never been apart and she almost couldn't get her brain to function.

'Come along, come along,' Ade said, and ushered them both into the living room. He motioned for them to sit down and they did, close together, like two bewildered children.

'So tell me, Taryn, what's the matter?' Ade was gentle and fatherly, smiling at her.

'I… I broke up with Vince, um, my boyfriend, just this morning, and I really can't stay at my old flat…' Taryn answered, a pained look upon her face. 'I couldn't think of who else to call, I'm really sorry, Adrian…'

Ade shook his head, hands up in the air.

'I honestly had no idea you'd be here,' she continued, turning to Quentin, 'I'll just go and… I'll think of something I'm sure…'

'You don't have to go on my account,' Quentin quickly said, and simultaneously Adrian asked: 'What's the matter with your flat, Taryn? You used to live somewhere in, um…' he mentioned her old neighbourhood.

'Oh, I can't… I just feel so uncomfortable there, I'd rather not… um… I bought a new place and I'll move in there soon as I've come back from the US… I'm on the APA shortlist and, you know, I'll have to go across for a couple of weeks… for the awards ceremony, and to do some promotion for my US edition as well… um… hopefully I'll feel better once I've moved into my new place… I've been... you know, really busy and now that my book is done, I'm sort of, it's like this black hole, um…' Her confused ramble coming to an end, she looked at Quent for a sec then looked down. He was anxiously staring at her. 'I've been thinking a lot about last year, recently,' she said to him very softly.

'Me too,' he replied, pulling her hand onto his lap. He looked down at it and whispered an almost inaudible 'I'm really sorry…'

A long, uncomfortable silence ensued.

Ade got up to talk to his housekeeper, and that prompted Tazzie to blurt out: '…oh no, please don't bother, I can't possibly stay here now, um, I'll just go, um…'

'No, Taz, please… I'll go, all right? I'll need to get my arse back to LA anyway, so whether I'm off today or tomorrow, reckon it'll make no difference… you stay here with Ade, hey? You'll be safe here.' Quentin now held her hand in both of his. 'Look, Taz, I know it's none of my fuckin' business, but I need to know. That guy you were seein'… Did he hurt you in any way? Did he treat you badly, that you broke up with him so suddenly?' Quentin had a hard light burning in his teal eyes,

his mouth a narrow line.

Taryn shook her head, finally finding something resembling courage inside her. She had to break free from this spell he seemed to cast over her, she simply had to. 'No he didn't treat me badly. He was a perfect gentleman. And you're completely right: it is none of your business why I broke up with him. But I have, all right? Will you please let go of my hand now?'

She didn't want him to let go of her hand; she wanted him to hold on to it for the rest of his life, and hers. She wanted him to wrap his arms around her again, she wanted to feel him, love him, wake up in the morning with his face the first thing she'd see when she'd open her eyes… She wanted all that, all the things she'd wanted when they were still together, with undiminished passion, and the power of it scared her to death.

Quentin frowned dangerously at the outright dismissal, but released her hand nonetheless. He got up slowly and said, very low: 'I'll go get my stuff then; get back to the airport… It's probably for the best, what with the bloody journos all over my fuckin' case, as usual.'

She stared up at him when he mentioned the press; no doubt he was referring to what she'd read in the tabloids this morning. 'And what was that all about, Quent?' she asked, much more sharply than she'd intended.

The look on his face hovered somewhere between sadness, pain and anger, the latter definitely winning the battle. He growled at her, barely controlled, '…now that's something that's none of your fuckin' business, I reckon.' Then he stalked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

'Well,' said Adrian. 'Well, um, right. For a moment there, the two of you looked like you'd be able to put your differences aside, and at least be friends again... But I guess not. Well, that's a shame. I think Quentin is hurting as badly as you, and if you can't find it in your heart to love him any more, you'd do well to forgive him. He needs that. He's constantly beating himself up over what happened between the two of you, you know that? He's got sleeping problems. He's had them for the last year, he's had them ever since the two of you broke up.'

'What is it with you people that you insist on Quentin and me being friends?' Tazzie almost shouted, her own anger flaring up as well. 'I mean, Jo, that's his Mum, she had a go at me about how happy she'd be if we were to be friends again, and now you; why would I want to remain friends with him? He doesn't care about me, not really!'

Adrian shook his head and said: ' You're wrong there, Taryn…' but she interrupted him brutally. 'He's selfish. Stubborn. Quentin Finch is all that matters to him, all that really matters to him. If only there wasn't such a, a… I dunno, a bond or something between us…' she shook her head wistfully. 'I can't seem to get out from under it. It's like a spell, like he's casting a spell over me if he so much as walks into the room. And I know, I know very well, that he's bad for me. And still I want to be with him…'

'He's not bad for you. He's just been a bloody fool, and he knows it; good Lord, he knows it better than you think.'

'What are you saying, Ade?' Taryn softly said, her anger now replaced by a wistfulness she couldn't hold back any longer. 'What is it that you're actually trying to say?'

'I guess I'm trying to say that in my opinion, the two of you belong together. But no one on God's green earth will listen to an old man like me, I'm very well aware of that…' He grinned at her ruefully, a twinkle in his friendly eyes.

Taryn shook her head again, her own eyes suddenly burning. 'You're out of your mind, Ade. I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, I think you're a darling, but honestly. I mean, Quentin's got a girlfriend nowadays, and apparently he's serious about her. His Mum told me that. She said she was happy we're both moving on, and that's when she mentioned how according to her we should try to be friends… Friends! I can't possibly be friends with him! The moment I see him, all I want to do is hide in his arms, while at the same time I know, I know very well that he'll just leave me when something comes up that grabs his fancy…

I can't live like that, Adrian, I just can't. Maybe this Muriel Manning can, but I certainly can't.'

'Oh, so you know who she is?' Adrian smiled faintly, and gave her a look as if he was onto her.

'Of course I know who she is. They're all over the news together, how could I possibly miss her? So what, is he going to marry her? She'll have to be able to accept the fact that he'll try to have sex with trashy birds from the pub soon as she's not looking, but maybe that's no problem for her…' Taz was talking herself into an angry frenzy again, but anything would be better than to start blubbering right there on Ade's sofa.

'Calm down, child, just calm down will you? I don't think… I actually do not think Quentin and Muriel are anything like Quentin and you ever were. I don't think he's serious about her at all. He never even mentioned her once since he got here. Didn't phone her, at least, not that I was aware of… And he told me… That girl in the pub… he was sloshed but not completely blotto, and apparently she looked a bit like you, that's what set him off… He knows it was a stupid thing to

do, he knows it very well…'

Taryn stared at Adrian, her mouth dry. 'She looked like me? Bloody hell… Don't tell me that is supposed to make me feel better, because it isn't, truly it isn't… And he'd bloody well better be sorry for what he did, it's disgraceful and low and mean and…' A tear ran down her cheek. She shook her head angrily.

The door to the living room opened abruptly. Quentin stayed on the threshold, as if he couldn't bring himself to come in again, and he firmly held on to the door handle. He spoke to no one in particular. 'Right. Um, I've rung a car, bloke said he'd be here in a couple of ticks… So, um, I'm off then…' and he started to close the door again.

'Hold on, my friend,' Adrian said, and scooted out of his chair. 'You can't leave without a proper goodbye. Come along, Taryn.'

She got up and followed Adrian into the entrance hall then hung back awkwardly, while Adrian gave Quentin an affectionate hug in an un-English display of emotion.

'Take good care of yourself, my boy, and I'm sorry for my underhanded meddling, however inept; I only have your best interest at heart. You do know that don't you?' Ade said, patting Quentin on the back.

Quent positively towered over him, and granted him a smile. 'Yeah, yeah, you old fart, get on with ya… oh, hold on a tick, I'm the one who's leaving…' A giggle, a little forced but still bubbling up like a silvery mountain well, sprung forth. Taz blinked; she had almost forgotten how it sounded, that ridiculous sweet giggle pouring from that big, solid man. Another tear secretly welled over the rim of her

eyelid.

'Oh, dear Lord, I'd almost forget,' Adrian said, patting Quentin's bulging upper arm. 'I've got the montage on a disk for you, if you want it. You can have another look at it if you feel like it, and if there's anything, anything at all that springs to mind… um…'

'Yeah, sure, mate, that would be ace,' said Quent, peering over Adrian's shoulder at Tazzie's miserable form.

Adrian lifted one finger in the air that said "wait a sec," and disappeared into the direction of his private viewing room. Quentin and Taryn stared at each other from across opposite sides of the hall.

'Well, goodbye then,' Tazzie said, trying very hard not to cry.

'I'm sorry,' Quent said at the same time. He took a couple of long strides until he was right in front of her. She hung her head, not wanting him to see how moved she was.

'Taz, I'm really sorry for making you uncomfortable… I reckon Ade's been trying his matchmakin' skills on us, hey… he should bloody well stick to film making instead; look what comes of it. Fuck Taz… Hey, hey… Shh, don't cry, oh bloody hell, come here…' And before she could say or do anything, he'd pulled her close again, rubbing her back, humming into her hair. That beautiful, overwhelming feeling of belonging, of universal well being, that enveloped her whenever she

was near this man was still there, and just as strong as always. Maybe even stronger. So was his scent, his lovely Quent scent, soapy and clean and healthy and manly, and she sniffled and hid against his shoulder. This could very well be the last chance she had of ever, ever smelling him, and although it was bliss and torture in equal parts, she wanted to get as much of it in as possible.

That other feeling was there as well. That sensuous, slow, molten, magmatic heat that ran just underneath her skin, the moment he touched her. She knew, she just knew with unwavering certainty that if he'd run his hands over her body, if he'd take all her clothes off, if he'd have his way with her right here in Sir Adrian Blakeley's entrance hall, there'd be no way on earth she'd be able to resist him.

He felt it as well, she was sure of it. He pulled her just a little bit closer and wrapped his arms around her in such a way that it felt like she was completely surrounded by him. Completely safe, while at the same time it was immeasurably, dangerously sensuous. Her soul whispered '…kiss me Quentin,' and she felt him shift against her, his mouth searching and beseeching, touching her earlobe, her cheekbone, her jaw line… She turned her head a little, just a little, but it was enough for his lips to find hers and latch on with a desperate, hungry growl.

The warm, slick sensation of his mouth on hers, the taste of him, the feeling of the velvety tip of his tongue engaging hers in a sweet little dance… no one had ever kissed her like that; no one ever would. All of a sudden Taz had no doubts left in her mind that breaking up with Vincent was the best thing she could possibly have done. She felt sense and reason losing ground faster than she'd thought possible; she became sensations only, and a whimper of urgent despair welled up from her.

Quentin responded by hugging her even closer, almost lifting her off the ground, and turning her bodily around with him, as if he intended to walk out the door holding and kissing her. But then there was the sound of a car outside signaling its arrival, and they slowly came back to the world. Quent ended the kiss tenderly, leaving her panting and swaying, and she slowly opened her eyes and looked at him.

'Some things never change, do they?' she whispered, her eyes still moist.

'Bloody oath,' he softly said, looking thoroughly rattled and touchingly vulnerable. 'You can say that again. Christ, I got to make a run for it, sweetheart, my car… um… how do I… your mobile number…'

'It's still the same as last year,' Tazzie said with only a hint at reproach. 'And if you deleted it from your contacts, your Mum has it as well…'

He looked down guiltily. 'I'm sorry Taz. I know I should have rung you. I can say it a million times, I know, and it won't make a fuckin' difference. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I really am sorry. Um… I've got a different number though; I reckon I must have gotten a new number at least five times last year. It keeps leaking to the wrong fuckin' people. I'll ring you, I promise I'll ri-…'

Adrian chose that exact moment to appear with a DVD in a paper sleeve, grinning disarmingly: '…sorry 'bout the delay, old chap, I mislaid the bloody thing and had to burn you a new one… Is that your car, outside?'

Quentin nodded, accepting the DVD then grabbing his bag off the floor. 'Cheers, mate, uh, sorry if I gave you any hassle, uh… thanks for havin' me over, hey?' he said to Ade. Then, to no one particular: 'Well, that's me off then.' He leaned in towards Tazzie, looking like he wanted to kiss her again, but he hesitated just before he reached her cheek. She leaned in then hesitated just as well, and it was all very awkward. The car outside hooted again.

'Yes, yes,' Adrian said, turning towards the front door and throwing it open, and while his back was turned, Quent and Taz managed to give each other a hasty, highly illegal string of sloppy wet little kisses, oozing a quiet desperation that neither of them could control or suppress.

'Got to…' kiss, '…go…' kiss, '…Tazzie-luv…' Quentin muttered to her mouth.

'Yes…' Taryn said in response as he finally turned around and made for the door. She followed him and stood next to Ade to watch him get into the car, and he turned and gave them a little wave right before he ducked his head and disappeared into the back. The tinted windows hid him from view, but Taryn kept looking at the car as it drove down the street, and rounded the corner. She looked on. And on, as if she could still see him somewhere in the far distance.

'Come on, inside,' Adrian said with a secret, satisfied smile on his face. 'We'll get your room ready, and then we'll have a cup of tea, how does that sound?'

Chapter Five

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