Martin was surprised there was a table for them in this crowded and noisy place, though he shouldn't have been surprised, he realized after a moment. After all, famous people do not have to reserve places for themselves like ordinary mortals. After all, it is natural that in a place like this they will expect unannounced guests. The waiter immediately approached them to take their orders. When it was his turn, he had no idea what to choose.
"They have a really good mojito here," Steve said, looking straight into his eyes. The intimidated Martin just nodded. Paxton said to the waiter. "Twice."
The waiter smiled and disappeared from the balcony.
"I want to dance," Wendy called, grabbing Martin by the arm.
Martin liked and even know, how to dance, but the thought of leading a sexy model on the dance floor overwhelmed him. Wendy belonged to this world without a doubt, but he was just an ordinary street freak tangled up here by accident. Plus, he was seeing Ami. Playing with another, and so sexy, woman without his girlfriend's knowledge was a kind of betrayal for him.
"You're not going to make the lady ask," Steve interjected. Martin felt strange under his piercing gaze.
In fact, it would be rude, especially since he took Steve's invitation. Dancing is just dancing, and there doesn't have to be anything indecent behind it. He should be glad to be on the floor with a real supermodel for the first time in his life.
"And you?" Tamara asked coquettishly, turning to Steve.
"Of course not," he assured her with a charming smile and held out his hand to her. He looked exactly like the tabloids always showed him: handsome, go-getting, with almost animal-like magnesium that draws every woman to him. "Shall we?"
She giggled like a teenager and they both ran down the stairs. After a while, Anna and Karl joined them. Wendy looked at Martin happily.
'It's just a dance', he told himself. 'Since I agreed to come here ...'
"Shall we dance?" Martin asked Wendy with a smile that was supposed to mimic Steve's expression. He knew that he was far from perfect, but you have to start training sometime and occasions like this don't happen every day.
"I'd love to," she replied, and they followed the others.
They went out to the dance floor and blended into the crowd of amused people. Colorful lights and loud music immediately set the rhythm of their movements. Wendy was a great dancer who moved in such way, that she could make any guy crazy. Martin, however, was surprised to find that he felt no temptation. Ami was too important to him to hurt her with a stupid, meaningless adventure. It was just dancing and having fun.
They danced and drank alternately. He had not only Wendy but also Tamara as his partner. Once he even dared to ask Anna who, to his surprise, did not refuse. It was all the more weird as her attention was focused solely on Karl throughout the evening, which gave the impression that they were a serious and permanent couple.
The alcohol was flowing freely, but Martin and Karl barely touched their drinks. Martin did not like alcoholic beverages, and besides, he did not feel comfortable in this strange place, among people he did not really know and preferred to trust his common sense than their grace. Karl probably served as the driver of the event, so just like Martin, he limited himself to one drink and quenched his thirst with water. Anna, too, was quite restrained, spending most of her time on or in Karl's arms. But Steve and the girls didn't have any restrains. The girls got drunk so quickly that Martin became seriously concerned about their health.
At one point, Anna whispered something in Karl's ear and they both got up. It looked as if they were getting ready to leave.
Karl leaned over Steve's ear and said something to him. Steve waved his hand at him as if chasing away an intrusive fly. An impatient Anna pulled on his arm. Karl understood the suggestion. As he left the company, he gave Martin the same shepherd look he had when they first met. Marin had no idea what Karl meant, but he did not felt close enough to him to ask. After all, Karl was the grandson of the stables owner.
Martin thought it was time for him too. It was late, and he had to get home somehow. In addition, the girls were already so drunk that they took care of themselves and gossiped about some mutual acquaintances.
"I think I'll go too ..."
"Don't you dare ..." Steve said vaguely, leaning over the table and grabbing Martin's sleeve. "I'm too drunk for you to ditch me. You're not leaving without me."
Martin blinked in surprise. Right, he couldn't abandon Steve. Maybe they weren't buddies, but they came to drink together and that obliges them to a certain dose of solidarity. Besides, even ordinary human decency forbade him to leave a man in such a state to his fate. He wouldn't forgive himself if anything happened to his idol after he left him. After all drunk Steve could insist on driving the car himself and that would be simply terrible.
Martin was about to say he was going to stay with Paxton until the end when driver said:
"If you want to go, let's go. Together."
Paxton put his hand in his pants pocket and looked for something there for a while. Finally he pulled out the keys to his car. He stared at them carefully for a moment, then pressed them into Martin's hand.
"You're driving," he decided admiringly. Surprised, Martin took the keys with his heart beating. He had never driven such an expensive car before. "Take me to…" Apparently he had trouble remembering the address. Trying to concentrate, he looked at the waiter who had brought a new round.
"Hotel Baronet," explained the waiter, obviously used to this. "You know the way?"
"Yes I know. What about the girls?"
"Don't worry about them. When they get bored, we'll put them in a taxi at Mr. Steve's expense. Mr. Steve has an open account with us."
"I'm sorry for the trouble."
"No problem. Better get him out of here before the journalistic vultures come in."
"Er, sure, thanks."
Martin was a head shorter than Steve, and although the driver was really slim, he was not the lightest. So Martin had serious problems getting him into the car. Fortunately, one of the bodyguards helped him. Together they put him in the passenger seat and strapped him on. Martin got behind the wheel and started the engine. His hum was a pleasure to the ear and heart of both the mechanic and the driver in Martin's guts.
Unlike his car, Steve was oddly quiet. His face was facing the window so Martin couldn't see her. The silence of Paxton, who had been amused all evening, unsettled him. What if Steve drank too much and passed out? Trying not to distract himself too much from the road, Martin looked intently at his reflection in the glass.
Steve didn't pass out, he wasn't even sleeping. Apparently, he was one of those people who, after drinking alcohol, got a strong mood swings, hence his present silence. Paxton's eyes were fixed on the darkness outside the window, strangely confused and absent, a little like the ones Martin had seen at stable on his first day at work.
"Are you feeling bad? Maybe I should stop?"
Steve slowly shook his head.
It was a strange look, full of thoughtfulness and a kind of melancholy, as if Steve missed something he had lost or could never get. It was sad and incredibly intriguing. If Martin didn't have to keep an eye on the road, he wouldn't be taking his eyes off the reflection in the glass.
Martin wasn't going fast, but they still got there within ten minutes. He didn't know what to do, so he pushed uncertainly to the main entrance. He had never been in such an expensive place and he felt a little lost, but then a man in livery stood at the door.
"Can we take care of Mr. Paxton's car? We'll escort it to the guest parking lot."
"Yes, please, just ..." he looked uncertainly at his friend, who had just started to climb up from his passenger seat.
"Peter, help the gentlemen."
A livery boy ran to hold Steve, but Steve unceremoniously shoved his hand away.
"Leave it," he growled. "I can do it myself. I'm not drunk."
He pushed off the car and staggered. Martin was already there to support him. Steve turned his head towards him.
"Hmm," he muttered, but didn't refuse help.
A cool, invigorating wind blew, tugging at their hair. Between the dancing strands of Paxton's dark hair, Martin saw his intense, fire-filled eyes staring directly at him.
Martin felt strange under the gaze. It felt as if Steve's eyes were trying to penetrate his mind and soul. More than once drunk people looked at him, but never that way. For some incomprehensible reason, Martin's face flushed.
"Room three hundred and thirteen," the boy explained as they entered the lobby. "I'll take the gentlemen." He took the key from the receptionist and headed for the elevator.
Steve was still leaning on Martin's shoulder so he could feel the warmth coming from him. Paxton, however, lost its inertia gravity. Was it to Martin, or was Steve recovering sobriety incredibly quickly?