Free Fatal Liaison by Vicki Tyley

reason she was
sitting in this bar. The same reason why he and everyone else in the room was
there. His hand swamped hers, his grip warm and firm. In the middle of
introducing herself to Joe, she happened to glance to his right and spied
Brenda, laden with drinks, carefully wending her way through the maze of tables
and people. And to Megan’s dismay, Mr Ginger Moustache was right on her heels.
    Joe’s amused expression turned to one of bewilderment as Megan
wrenched him into the seat next to her. It’d been totally instinctive on her
part, a protective measure. If the seat beside her was occupied, then there was
no possibility of Mr Ginger Moustache stationing himself too close.
    Brenda, her face rigid with concentration, squeezed past the last
obstacle in her path. Only after offloading her clutch of two glasses of red
wine and a tall tumbler of dark liquid did she raise her eyes. The beginnings
of a smirk tweaked the corners of her mouth as she claimed the barstool
directly opposite Megan.
    Leaving Joe to fend for himself and ignoring Brenda’s unmistakable
glee, Megan selected one of the glasses of red wine and lifted it to her lips,
inhaling the slightly astringent aroma. Joe rose to his feet and formally
introduced himself to Brenda and her newfound best friend, reinforcing Megan’s
impression of him as a gentleman.
    Megan’s manners, on the other hand, left a lot to be desired. What
was wrong with her? After all, suave attractive men didn’t pop into her life
every day. She couldn’t even put her crankiness down to PMT. The last time
Brenda had ribbed her about being a lipstick-wearing Rottweiler was less than
two weeks ago.
    Setting her wine glass on the table in front of her, Megan raised
her eyes and gazed straight ahead at Brenda. Unfortunately, the imaginary
blinkers she had fitted didn’t work, and she couldn’t help but catch Mr Ginger
Moustache’s crooked leer out of the corner of her eye. She shivered, the hairs
on the back of her neck rising. What had prompted Brenda to bring that man back
to the table? Especially when she knew how Megan felt about him.
    Trapped behind the table, there was no quick exit. At least there
was safety in numbers. The inclination to swig the rest of her wine was strong,
but the memory of last weekend’s hangover remained fresh in her mind. Instead,
she took a deep breath and steeled herself, arranging her features into what
she hoped was a neutral expression.
    The very least Brenda owed her was an explanation. And it’d better
be good. But until then, Megan would have to bide her time playing the game and
making small talk.
    “Not a bad place,” Joe said, next to her. “Have you been here
before?”
    Megan shook her head. “It’s quite new. I think it used be a sushi
bar.”
    “You live in the city?”
    “St Kilda, but I work not far from here. What about you?”
    “North Carlton – home of the Blues. Do you follow the footy?” He swigged
his beer.
    She pulled a face. “I’m not a big sports fan, sorry.”
    The corner of Joe’s mouth lifted in a lopsided grin. “It’s not a
crime.”
    She spent the next ten minutes trying to avoid getting into any form
of conversation with Mr Ginger Moustache. She needn’t have worried. He was more
intent on bragging to Brenda, waffling on about his awesome skills as a landscaper
and how much presale landscaping increased property values. Every now and
again, he’d move his head and try to bring Megan into the conversation by
asking her a question. Her curt one- and two-word replies soon defeated him.
    Breathing a little easier, Megan slouched in her seat, using the
bench-seat’s padded back to support her spine. Closing her eyes for a second or
two just confirmed how exhausted she really was. If she didn’t get her second
wind soon she’d have to abandon Brenda yet again. That or fall asleep at the
table. She opened her eyes, blinking rapidly in an effort to ease the dry
gritty sensation.
    Joe was speaking, but she