The End Of The Game Pt 03

So yeah. Lydia. I mean, it couldn't be. Obviously. That was stupid. Of all the... well, not gin joints, but political meet-and-greets, in the world, she had to show up in this one. How could it be here? What were the odds?

And it

definitely

was her. Quite apart from that face I'd never forget, she was draped in the same white off the shoulder Grecian style dress she'd worn on the cruise, all curves and stuff hanging down, with slits up both sides and... OH MY FUCKING GOD! LYDIA WAS HERE!!

I just stood, doing my best goldfish impression, watching her zoom past, intent on the dance, drink half way to my mouth and dead stopped. Memories of the cruise rushing through my head. Thank God it wasn't a tango; I doubt I could have stood that.

She hadn't noticed me, and I couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not. They spun around the dance floor, being obscured by other couples, then reappearing again. She was definitely here. It wasn't my wishful thinking.

I was dimly aware that someone was standing beside me, and I glanced left and saw Paula, head crooked at me, then glancing out into the dancing throng to see what was entrancing me.

"Dad? You okay?" she asked, concerned, clutching what I hoped to god was a diet coke. She was nineteen, and the last thing either of us needed was her being served alcohol at a political event for my friend.

I must have mumbled something, and gestured, hand still full of forgotten drink, which then spilled on to the floor.

"What?" she said, even more concerned.

I turned and looked at her, then looked back, searching out the couple. Nope, still there. Not vanished, like they would if this was a good horror movie, where someone was trying to drive me mad.

"Remember me telling you about Lydia?" I asked, glancing back at her again.

"Oh, the Greek goddess? Aphrodite? The cruise romance? The one that got away? Sure..."

"Wanna see what she looks like?" I said, returning my stare to the dancing couple. "Over there, in the white dress." I gestured again, this time trying not to spill the drink.

Paula whistled. "Well look at her! Go Dad! Quite the Bettie!"

That was an old reference even I got.

"So, what do you think she's doing here, Dad? Couldn't get enough old geezer and came all this way to get some more, you think?"

I glanced back her, but she wasn't looking at me, she was watching Lydia, eyes shining.

I looked back myself. I had to admit, even though Marcus Fontaine was a disgusting leech of a human, he could dance. But then, so could Lydia. She could make the hunchback of Notre Dame look good. She

had

made the local hunchback - me - look good!

"I have no idea," I said, still in shock at her showing up. "Seems a bit of a leap though, her being here when I am. I mean, it's not like I think she'd have business here."

I was torn. Do I rush over and try and take her in my arms? She was clearly Fontaine's date tonight, and I wasn't about make a scene at this event. On the other hand, I was sure... no, I was desperately

hoping

she was there for me. It seemed logical.

But why? We'd parted on good terms, her to go back to her life and me to mine, a world apart, no intention to try and prolong what we had at that time. I mean, did she want more from me? If she did, did I want more from her? What would I say to her if we ran into each other? How would I engineer that?

The questions were coming thick and fast and I was overthinking things I knew, as I always do. I decided my drink was almost dead and I hadn't even drunk most of it, and just this once, I deserved another one. Paula could drive us home if need be. The wonders of having kids that can drive. She loves my car anyway.

So rather than pathetically standing and trying desperately to catch her eye as she whizzed by, I did what any man who was trying not to be pathetic would do. I went to the bar. Paula drifted off to her friends, saying, "They are gonna

sheet

when I tell them about this! My dad is such a stud that a women would travel half way around the world, just to show up at an event he's at!" And I swear she wasn't being entirely sarcastic! Well, I hoped, anyway.

And that's where she found me. Clearly, she

had

seen me, just wasn't about to let on to Marcus Fucking Fontaine, thank god.

"There you are," she breathed, sliding up next to me as I stood in line and grabbing my arm, like she'd just been to the bathroom and was catching up with me again. I was suddenly extremely glad I'd put on the Armani, given what an absolute goddess she looked. At least the clothes wouldn't let me down. No rumples here, for once.

I just looked at her, not knowing what to say. I don't think I was mouth breathing at the time, but you never know, I may have been.

She just smiled impishly at me, that smile women use when they know they've surprised you, in a nice way. Half smug, half full of promise and half mischievous. Yes, I know that's three halves. Shut up. I'm having a

moment

here.

"Well, this is... unexpected," I murmured, more for something to say than anything.

Her look faltered. "You aren't pleased to see me? I thought it would be a marvelous surprise!" She still had that adorable British way of saying certain words.

"Well," I replied carefully, "while it

is

marvelous to see you, and very unexpected, I can't help but notice that you appear to be Marcus Fontaine's date?" I looked around, expecting to see him steaming over and demanding I unhand his woman. He was, after all, that kind of asshole.

"Oh him," she said, dismissively. "The man is a pig. He's already trying to get me to go 'have a nightcap' in the room he's reserved here." She opened her mouth and stuck her finger in, making the universal gesture for vomit inducing feelings.

"Why are you with him at all?" I had to ask.

"Because I couldn't find you, you idiot. I knew where in the world you were, you told me that much. But I don't have your number or your email. Remember? We both agreed we'd not share those. Too hard after we ended our little romance. I remembered you told me you were associated with the politikós, the... politician, yes? So, I thought you'd probably be here, and that pig was the first man I could find who might bring me. And here I am!"

"And lovely it is to see you, Lydia! I have to say. Although... I can't help but remember the fact that we weren't going to see each other after the cruise? I was under the impression that you'd go live your life and..."

I didn't get any further. She disengaged my arm and stepped back, looking at me in alarm and hints of anger. My first lesson in Greek temperament. "You don't want me here? There is nothing beyond our holiday? I have made a mistake?" She was

not

happy with my statement, or what she thought it meant.

"No, no," I protested. "I'm

overjoyed

you are here! Just... puzzled as to why. I mean, surely you didn't come all this way just for me?" I said, a little weakly, aware that we were starting to get a little attention from others in the drinks line.

"Why would I not?" She asked, genuinely horrified at the question. "We had such fun on the cruise. You seemed like someone I would want to know better. I know what we said, but once I had time think on it..." She drifted off at the end of the sentence, looking at me intently for hints.

I wasn't sure how much better she

could

know me, given the things we'd already done, but... well. She WAS here. And saying it was for me, so it was clearly up to me to capitalize on that.

My first thought was Paula, but Lydia had other ideas. Clearly, she'd seen the attention we were getting, and wanted out from under it too.

"Let's dance," she said, smiling again that seductive smile. She thought she could just get me to do anything with that smile. Well, she was wrong. Very wrong. I was my own man. So, it was

my choice

that we went out on the dance floor. Absolutely it was.

Shut up. I won't tell you again.

We did a waltz, which I can just about do, one two three, one two three, one two three, Len Goodman would have been proud, God rest his soul. It was wordless, me concentrating on not stepping on her feet, and her staring at me, totally on autopilot. She

was

a good dancer.

Then, inevitably, the next song was a tango. And we both just collapsed in giggles, and had to walk off, right into the form of a monumentally pissed off Marcus Fontaine.

And he

was

pissed. As we abruptly stopped, her clutching my arm, I could see his lips compressed, the eyes narrowed, and the hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. It was not a pretty sight.

"Hey Marcus..." I started, and he just interrupted.

"Can it, Tomlinson. What the Hell do you think you are doing? With MY date?" he demanded, hissing the question so as to not attract too much attention.

The smile, such as it was, left my face. Were we really going to do this? Man-o-man, duke it out, Queensberry rules, and all that? At our age?

"Look," I said, holding my hands out in front of me, Lydia incidentally dropping her hands off my arm, "we are old friends, just catching up. No one is taking 'your' date away from you." I emphasized the 'your' part, mostly as sarcasm, but given who I was talking to, he may not notice that and take it seriously.

"Old friends?" he hissed, acidly, disbelief in every syllable. "She only got here five days ago! Don't give me that..."

I was about to say something when Lydia stepped forward.

"Actually, Marcus, we are, it's true. Old cruise mates in fact. We cruised around the Med and had lots of... I think the word is shenanigans? Is that right?" she looked at me, a wide smile on her face.

"That's a good word. Another one might be mischievousness?" I suggested, getting into the spirit of things.

"Ohh, Yes!" she exclaimed. "Mischievousness. Yes, very definitely. We were definitely up to that."

"Perhaps even Tom Foolery? But definitely not devilment," I proclaimed.

"No, definitely not. My sainted mother would never have forgiven us," she agreed.

"Besides, I'm a little perturbed at how you seem to be viewing me as some kind of attachment?" she challenged Fontaine, turning back to him. "I am my own person, Marcus. Not some possession. I saw an old friend. A close friend. A very close friend, and I went to say hello. You don't get to dictate who I talk to. I believe your country claims to be free? I am exercising my freedom."

I didn't add anything to that, but if you need a phrase to describe me at this current time, the words 'slightly smug' would not be too out of range. Possibly even 'very smug'. It didn't happen very often, but when it did, well, flaunt it, baby.

Fontaine just stood staring at us, the veins on his forehead pulsing gently in the light. I noticed they weren't pulsing in time to the music.

There was a standoff for a few moments, then Lydia said, "Still, I am your date, you are right, and perhaps I have been neglecting you for a little bit. Let me just finish my catch up here, while you get me a drink, yes? Then we'll dance again?"

She put a hand on one of his arms, and he visible relaxed.

"Fine," he said, slightly mollified. "White wine?"

"No, Vodka Martini, very dirty," I

almost

replied, realizing at the last second it would not have gone down well.

"A Martini would be fine, I think? Lots of olives?" she said, fluttering her eyelashes and gesturing at the bar.

"I'll be right back," he breathed out, glancing at me with distaste again, before turning towards the bar.

I resisted the urge to ask him to get me something. Again, not politically correct, given the current situation, and he'd probably put Hemlock in it if he did get it. I mean, I would have. Was hard to hold back though, have to say it. Make my state of mind 'extremely smug'.

I looked at Lydia. "What

are

you doing with that idiot?" I wondered out loud, for the second time that evening. "I mean, you do know what he's going to want at the end of this evening, right? Doubly so now he knows you know me."

She glanced up at me and raised an eye brow. "You let me handle him."

"It's you handling him that I'm worried about," I mumbled, glancing away.

I got a punch in the arm for that.

"If you imagine for

one second

I would entertain that pig of a man, well, you can just..." she started, acidly, when she was interrupted by a voice behind us.

"So... Dad. You gonna introduce to me to Ms. Hottie here, or what?"

"

Thank you, Jesus!

" I inwardly breathed.

We turned, and there was Paula, all cute and cherubic, big old chubby cheeks, and wide-eyed and bushy tailed. She was hamming it up something chronic, but right then I couldn't have cared less.

"Ahh, yes, child number one. I'd like to introduce to you to Lydia Petrou. She's the lady I told you about, on the cruise. Lydia, this is..."

"Paula, yes, I remember. What a pleasure to meet you, Paula!" exclaimed Lydia reaching out her free hand for a shake.

I could tell right then she'd made a direct hit on Paula. For her to know her name, no doubt mentioned by me on the cruise, and to remember it, that was a huge first step on the ladder of Paula Approval. Which, I hadn't realized till now, was crucial to me.

Wait. What? What did

that

mean? That was a much longer conversation I was going to have to have myself, clearly.

Turning my attention back to the conversation, which was going briskly.

"Oh, it's

sooo

nice to meet you!" exclaimed Paula, like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. There was a conversation there that needed to happen later too. She was hamming it up something awful. "Dad has told me so much about you! You were apparently the best thing that's happened to him in

sooo

long!"

I needed to nip this in the bud. This was a worse potential than the new girlfriend running into the ex. I needed to take control.

"Well, I-" I started to interject, and was completely cut off by Lydia.

"Oh,

did

he say that? That's so sweet! He was quite a decent diversion, let me tell you!" she simpered back at Paula, playing the game to the hilt too.

"Actually, what I-" they cut me off... again.

"Yeah! He came back positively glowing! Like, fun Dad was back! Before he went, he was all miserable and hang dog and just 'woe is me!' You know how men get. Like they've had their favorite bone taken away!"

Now, wait a minute here... "Look, I was feeling-"

"Oh yes! I know

exactly

what you mean!" Lydia responded, ignoring me completely. "It was fun to chase those clouds away," she said, wistfully looking indulgently at me.

"Right! And then it's all 'Oh, the world has so much to offer!' when he got back. Can I just say a MAJOR thank you, from our entire family?

"Hang on a minute here. I wasn't 'hang dog'-" I started to protest, and was ignored again.

"You know, Paula, I have the feeling we are going to be GREAT friends. Shall we find a table and chat?" suggested Lydia.

"Oh, lets!" replied Paula, glancing at me with barely concealed glee. "I have to tell you about Dad's dating efforts, now you are here to save him. Have you ever heard of 'speed dating'?"

This was NOT going to end well for me, I could tell.

At that exact moment, Marcus Fontaine bustled back with a glass of something for her, and a glass of what looked like whiskey for himself.

"Here you go, Lydia," he said, holding the drink out and studiously ignoring me and Paula, doing his best to establish dominance in regards to her attention.

"Why, thank you Marcus!" she said, taking the drink and barely glancing at him.

"Right, Paula, let's go find a seat and get more acquainted!" she said. And, hooking arms with Paula, who shiftily grinned a triumphant grin at me, they wandered off.

Marcus looked at her, walking away, open mouthed. It wasn't me he was trying to run off, it was a teenage girl who he had no actual defense against.

While he was looking at her, clearly wondering what to do. He looked at me, I shrugged and then I just took the whiskey out of his hand, and drank half of it, saying, "Thanks, I needed that!" - meaning every word of it - and then walked briskly away in the other direction, in search of anything that would take my mind off what I'd just been a party to.

Half an hour later, when I was standing on the other side of the room, ostensibly talking to John Derbas' Chief of Staff, Scott Wilkie, but really keeping an eye on the table where Paula and Lydia were talking, with altogether too much laughing and gesturing for my comfort.

Paula glanced at her watch and said something to Lydia who laughed again, and OH MY GOD that woman had the nicest neck when she leaned back, and then stood up, saying something else to her.

And then they played another tango. I mean, I swear someone does this intentionally, just to fuck with my life. There's an angel up there, that instead of protecting me, just likes to fuck around.

I excused myself from Scott, who could tell I was distracted, and who gave me a wry smile, walked away. And then

I

find out.

Lydia looked over at me, eyes sparkling, and I just

knew

where this was going. She strode towards me, intent in every step, keeping her eyes on me. When she reached me, she didn't even say anything, just held out her hand and waited for me to take it. When I did, she turned and led me to the dance floor, where she turned and held out her hands, waiting for me to step up.

Honestly, glancing around, the floor was full of exactly the same kinds of things we saw on the cruise. Multiple couples, all trying to be so artful and imaging all eyes are upon them, trying to be 'TheTango Dancers everyone watches', to be sex in a dance, and most of them just falling over themselves and getting annoyed with their partner that they didn't do what they wanted at the exact moment they wanted it.

Clearly the tango required practice. And we had none.

But that didn't stop us. We just whizzed around, I groped the shit out of her since I had the dance god's permission to do so, and she didn't seem to mind. We were extravagant, ridiculous, probably made a spectacle of ourselves, and we didn't give a shit. There was just the two of us out there, even though the floor was crowded. You get what I mean.

When the dance was over, we were both breathing heavily and doing our damndest not to laugh. Me particularly, since I was holding her up and she was bent over. If I laughed right then, I'd have dropped her and even I know that would have been a bad move. Like a terminal one. If she hadn't have killed me, Paula would.

She just looked at me, breathing hard, with a look that could have covered light years.

Lydia pushed herself up, after what felt like a million years, the looked around to see if we were objects of ridicule or not. She smiled at me, winked and then looked around some more, locating Marcus Fontaine, who was loitering just past the crowd, trying and failing to make it look like he was absorbed in watching the people dancing on the floor. She made eye contact with him and he immediately straightened up and gave her the sincerest smile he could, offering his arm out to her.

She glanced back at me, gave me a mocking smile, rolled her eyes, and then went to Fontaine. My eyes followed them as she took his proffered elbow, said something to him, patted him on the arm, and they walked out. I was glad to see they went to the lobby and out the front door, rather than detouring to a room, as she had mentioned.

Paula immediately made a beeline for me.

Paula strolled up and handed me something, a small slip of paper. Before I had a chance to read it, she said, "Well, Dad. I am

the

best wingman in the world. Wing person. Whatever."

I looked down, and it was an address of a hotel, a room number, and a time and date, along with a phone number.