"Quinn is that you?" I holler when I hear the front door closing.
There's some decidedly unmasculine giggling from the hallway and then Mairi pokes her head in through the sitting room door and says, "it's just me and Tina."
"Mairi, Tina, nice to see you," I reply a little puzzled. "What brings you down to our neck if the woods."
Tina's red-haired head appears next to Mairi's and says, "we're here to give you a bit of a make-over Rob."
"I don't need a make-over," I start to protest.
"Well, you're certainly not going where you are going tonight in your dressing gown," Mairi interrupts. "Not unless they've relaxed the dress code since last I enquired."
"What are you talking about? I haven't got anything planned," I say quite puzzled this time.
"You do now," Tina quips. "It's a secret though, so you'll just have to trust us and come into the garage."
"Pardon?" I ask totally baffled.
The girls giggle some more and then Mairi produces a can of spray-paint out of her hold-all and gives it a shake. "Fire-engine red was your color, wasn't it, Rob? Nicky said it was, but you know Nicky..."
"You're not going to-"
"Oh yes we are," Tina laughs. "We have it on good authority that it'll come out with mayonnaise in the morning."
I pout a little, mostly for the look of the thing, because both Mairi and Tina have developed something of an immunity. Mairi rolls her eyes, "we'll have none of that," she chastises. "Come on Tina, if he won't go into the garage, we'll just have to ruin Quinn's Laura Ashley sofa. It's all for the cause."
I get up hurriedly at that. If there's one thing I have learned being with Quinn, it's that hell hath no fury like Quinn upon the discovery of damage to his soft furnishings—just remembering the chintz armchair incident makes me shudder—and I wouldn't put it beyond Mairi and Tina to try. "Traitor!" I hiss at Tina as I squeeze past her into the hallway. "That was the last time I helped you out of a jam."
"Until next weekend Rob," Tina laughs quite unabashed as she and Mairi are herding me into the garage.
"Alright, take off the dressing gown and your shirt and bend over," Mairi says all business.
"Ohhh Mairi!" I exclaim in an effort to take at least some control of the situation. "That must be the best offer I've had since-"
"Last night, or near as makes no difference," Tina heckles while shaking up the spray can some more.
I know it's completely useless arguing with the two of them, so I shrug off the dressing gown and take off my shirt and bend over saying, "I'll have you know, you're not too old to be taken over my knee young lady..." and that's as far as I get before Tina starts spraying and I have to stop talking.
"Was that an indecent proposal, do you think?" Tina asks, the question obviously directed at Mairi.
Mairi laughs. "Hmmm. Somehow I doubt it. Quinn and him have this rather irritating habit of not playing with girls... though I have to admit, Quinn's right about his arse."
"Are you checking me out?" I squeak. Paint in my mouth be damned.
"Yes, but only a little," Mairi chuckles.
Tina's stopped spraying and is now molding my hair into spikes. "Alright, it should be only a few minutes. Once that's dry we can get started on getting you changed for the big night."
"And what exactly is that big night going to entail?" I ask stroppily.
"Can't tell you," Mairi replies. "We had to swear on Margaret Thatcher's grave we wouldn't tell."
"But she's not dead yet!" I reply.
"Yes, more's the pity," Mairi says rather flippantly. "I think you can stand up now. Tina, the clothes."
By the time I've stood up properly Tina's holding a pair of leather pants and a too-small t-shirt out for my inspection.
"I see my ability to breathe is not part of the great master plan," I say sarcastically. "Fine, you two, back in the house. Let me change in peace."
They giggle some more but leave without protesting too much. Well, Tina does. Mairi leers at me and waggles her eyebrows some. Once the door is firmly shut I take off my sweats and start squeezing into the leather pants. They're tight—probably borrowed from Nicky, who's still got one of the waspiest waists in London, the bastard!—but they're passable. The t-shirt is more of an issue; it's at least two sizes too small and I swear Mairi's done that on purpose. Still, I suppose what with the spiked red hair it hardly matters.
I open the door only to be assaulted by the two harpies brandishing eyeliner. "Is that absolutely necessary?" I squeal.
"We are under strict orders," Tina explains. "Now hold still, this won't hurt and the car should be here any minute."
"What car?" I sputter as Mairi takes hold of my chin and starts applying eyeliner rather liberally.
There's a car horn honking outside the door in response. "That car," Mairi replies. "Come on then, or are you just going to stand there? We're on a bit of a tight schedule, you know."
I decide that I might as well give up now rather than be driven insane by whatever the hell is happening, because I'm almost entirely sure my life's spinning out of control just now, which, upon further reflection, is what tends to happen when Mairi and Tina are in the same room with me. So there really is no point in fighting it, is there?
I let them lead me out of the house to the waiting car, which has an honest-to-god chauffeur—I kid you not—standing besides it and then Mairi gives me a little shove and hisses, "stop ogling the driver and get into the car git."
Next thing I know they squeeze in on either side of me and Tina slips a blind-fold over my eyes. "This a kidnapping?" I ask only half-joking.
"We're under-"
"Strict orders, I know, you've said," I interrupt her. "Fine, you two just have your wicked way with me. Just so long as you realize you're going to have to explain it to Quinn somehow."
"Oh we will," Mairi laughs, "never you worry about that."
I suppose we must be in the car for about half an hour or so. Neither of them is talking much and I guess the chauffeur had instructions beforehand because nobody mentions a destination, so I just lean back and enjoy the ride, with trepidation.
Then the car stops and Tina and Mairi are hustling me out of it with the blindfold still firmly over my eyes and they're leading me through what feels like a throng of people.
"Where the hell are we?" I ask.
"You'll find out soon enough," Mairi replies. "Can't tell you now, it'd spoil the surprise."
"Fine!" I say petulantly and do the best to pout even with the blindfold over my eyes.
We negotiate quite a few turns before I'm lead into a space that feels large and full—very full—of people. Tina and Mairi let go of me there and I'm about to panic and rip off the blindfold when another hand lands on my shoulder, a body presses up against my back, and I know instantly that I am safe.
"You'd better have a bloody good explanation for all of this Quinn Matheson," I mutter.
He's so close now I can smell him. His lips are almost touching my ear and he whispers, "oh I do. Take off the blindfold."
I stall just long enough to brush my hand across his cheek and then I push the blindfold up and blink furiously for a few minutes while my eyes adjust to the change in lighting. We seem to be in some sort of club.
I turn to look at Quinn and find myself temporarily speechless. "Ohhhh," I exhale.
He takes a step back then so I can get a better look at him. "Like what you see?"
I nod. "Your hair. It's teal..."
He smiles. "Bloke once told me that it really brought out the color of my eyes. Thought it was time to test that theory."
"You look... it's been a very long time," I finish rather lamely.
Mairi clears her throat tactfully in the background. "Well, since that's all sorted, Tina and I will go and find Nicky. Have a nice night you two."
Quinn nods. "Thanks, Mairi, Tina, you're still my favorite girls in London."
"You're welcome. Just remember it's going to be your turn before to long and you know what that means," Mairi laughs, while Tina is already disappearing in the crowd somewhere.
Quinn, what are we doing here?" I finally ask.
"Concert. Some guys who can't sing, can't play and can definitely not put on a decent show are playing a gig here tonight. You might have heard of them, call themselves 999 I think," he winks.
"You detest 999," I say like some sort of idiot.
"Not tonight," he smiles stepping up close to me again. "I... remember that night you dragged me out to see Siouxsie and the Banshees?"
"That was a long time ago Quinn," I murmur.
He's got one arm loosely wrapped around my waist now, the other resting on my shoulder, his palm brushing my cheek. "There was something I wanted to do that night to make it perfect, but I couldn't then. Things are very different now."
"What was that?" I ask leaning into his touch.
He smiles and then his lips are brushing across mine. His grip around my waist tightens and his other hand brushes past my cheek and threads into my hair. I part my lips to let his tongue in and he's kissing me long and hard and deep, his growing erection pressing against mine.
When he finally draws back he's flushed and breathing hard. "Couldn't do that then Rob, not if we were going to get out of that club alive."
"But you can do it now," I sigh.
"Mmmm," he says while sliding his hand into my back pocket and the band is announced on stage. "Happy anniversary Rob."
"Happy anniversary," I reply softly, leaning into his chest.
The band is half-way through the first track before I realize I missed something really important. "Hang on, what did Mairi mean by saying it'll be her turn soon and you know what that means?" I shout above the din.
Quinn winces somewhat. "I may have made a foolish promise to her some time ago in a fit of drunken pique Rob."
"Such as being one of the godfathers?" I grin.
"Worse, much worse," he frowns.
I look at him expectantly. "Well, what was it?"
Quinn, looking rather embarrassed, leans down and whispers in my ear. "When Nicky proposed I promised that if they'd last, for their twentieth anniversary I'd let her watch."
"You did what?" I shout—not only to be heard above the sound system.
Quinn slips into perfect pout-face—and he's still a champion pouter, even now—and replies, "well, I had no idea she was pregnant with Tina, did I?"
I have to smile at that and he's smiling too, eyes sparkling like emeralds. He pulls me closer again and offers me his lips. So I kiss him; I haven't yet grown tired of kissing him, not once in twenty years.
© KJB 2002-2003.