Chapter 4

• “You don't need to do this every time.” James is watching from the doorway as Ella wrangles a fresh set of bedding on, despite the fact he only changed the damn thing yesterday. As she spots a rouge hair clip or t-shirt, she launches it to him and continues. “Well, yeah, I do. Look, put it down to the mysteries of women or something, but trust me, all right?” she's sporting a smile as she collects her things, tossing them on the sofa as she passes them, right on top of the pillow and neatly folded blanket.
• He watches, almost marveling, as she pins a loose shirt to the inside of her jacket, all the essentials for a night in a motel disappearing into the pockets like some modern-day Mary Poppins bag. “Right, I have got the details of every motel and hotel within a fifteen-minute walk and in my self-imposed budget. Just in case.” she's slipping her mobile into the pocket of her jeans, shaking her hair out the plaits it had dried in as he laughs.
• Fixing him with an accusatory glare, glancing in the mirror to see what he finds so funny as if she's flashed him or something. When he composes himself enough, he collects their coats, approaching with a smile to pull her into a hug that's more like a headlock “You take this wingman thing entirely too seriously.” though he appreciates it, generally not the most social it's nice to have a close friend who 'gets' him. Ella ducks out of his hold to be able to speak clearly, practically herding him out the door. “Anything worth doing is worth doing right.”
• It may be a wine bar sort of club but it's about the only place they agree on, Ella resisting anywhere that essentially requires a dress to get past the door, James screamingly out of place in the pool halls and dive bars she doesn't mind.
• As usual, he needs no help to get flirting, Ella's presence more a confidence booster than anything else - he usually feels sleazy going out to deliberately pick up women, but her reassurance that there are almost definitely women out doing the same, helps soothe that.
• It's no surprise when he finds her at the bar to say he's going, the whole 'checking on his friend' thing doing wonders for the woman waiting with a lip caught between her teeth.
• Now she's flying solo, she chances the club down the street. Louder, busier, and generally the perfect place to get lost in your head and good music.
• This is exactly what she gets to do, an easy smile on her face among the crowds of people moving like an ocean to the music. It's close quarters, bumping into others isn't exactly a rarity, but it's the deliberate tap on her shoulder after a while that has her pausing. Turning, she finds herself face-to-face with someone who looks like security. Quirking a brow, knowing she's done nothing to warrant getting kicked out, she waits for the muscle to speak.
• “Ella?” He leaned to her ear so she can hear him, prompting a slow nod from her before he continues, “Boss wants a word. Follow me.”
• Well, shit, that's not good. But Ella follows, familiar enough with the place that she's not going to find herself stuck in a hall somewhere, but skimming through her list of if she even knows the owner. Maybe he's been to the hotel or something? Did he maybe own that bit on the restaurant street she did some shifts at years ago?
• The whirr of thoughts came to a screeching halt as she stepped up the small staircase into the VIP section and Muscles McGee finally stepped to the side to reveal his 'boss' reclining on the couch. All that time in the city and yet now she couldn't seem to shake the bearded bastard.
• “Ella…” losing a battle to hide the slight smile that was probably helped by the booze in her system, tone a mix of amusement and something that spoke to her noting how he kept appearing. “No company tonight?” he asked, a teasing tone as he pats the seat next to him, holding her gaze stubbornly.
• “Take it that's rhetorical since you seem to know a shockin' amount about me.” Her response was more casual than she'd usually allow with someone she barely knew, sauntering over to drop into the seat and taking a moment of pride at the expression on his face. Like the comment or delivery had caught him off guard.
• Clyde recovered well though, dropping an arm from along the back of the seat to turn more towards her. “Well, knowledge is kind of key to the job,” he responded. “Former or current?” came her quick wit response. He wasn't expecting her verbal parry like that, but he couldn't say he didn't enjoy it. A breath of laughter laced through his words as he responded slowly, “Both.”
• “Little overdressed for a nightclub, aren't you?” Ella says, propping her head against her hand as she leans on the back of the seat. Clyde responds with a shrug, the hint of an easy smile just noticeable through the beard, “Business. It's not all cocktails and fancy dinners.” Clyde's voice is tinged with good-natured humor, though he can't confirm if the candid attitude is because he doesn't have someone higher in the food chain to fear or because her company is loosening him up.
• “A hard life for some...” Ella teases, one of those smiles that looks on the verge of laughter pulling his gaze from hers to focus on her lips in a way that has her suppressing a shiver. It certainly sobers her up faster than a bucket of ice over the head.
• Thankfully, she regains composure, tactfully nudging the conversation to his time as a DA, figuring getting him to talk about himself is a fairly safe zone. Absentmindedly sipping the drink, a server brings by at one point, taking longer than she cares to note to realize he's either very astute or she's easy to read in that Clyde had correctly guessed rum and coke as her poison.
• She was gingerly accepting a second glass when Clyde started with the questions about her time before the hotel - seeming near fascinated by how casually she appeared to treat all the traveling, but thoroughly confused why she'd stayed in Boston of all places. It was because it was his hometown, but Ella had no such prior connection to sway her time there - it seemed to take him by surprise that the city and its people had grown on her. She stayed because she didn't feel that pull to go be somewhere else, at least for the moment.
• An hour later
• It was late as they stood outside, Ella turned up the collar of her coat against the cold as she bid goodbye, and turned to start her walk - scrolling through her options on her phone to start calling someone. “Ella,” her name called along the pavement startled her slightly, stopping to turn back. “It's late, get in the car. I'll drop you off on the way, where to?”
• Ella huffed as she strolled back. “I don’t know yet, probably the first motel along the way that has vacancies.”
• Clyde looked thoroughly confused for a second before folding his arms when he leaned back against the car door. “A vacancy?” earning him a joking roll of the eyes. “Motels, huh? Gotta give Frank his space to get his groove on.”
• Clyde seems much less intimidating when he laughs, more regular. Stepping to leave barely a couple of inches between them, he's holding her gaze again. “Or…maybe you can come back to my place.”
• Ella checks out Clyde before her gaze drops under the guise of checking her phone before he adds, “There's a guest room at my place that hardly ever gets used.” He looks at her lips as Ella’s bottom one is stuck between her teeth in thought, her expression revealing rough ideas of naughty things she could do. But a bad thought occurs to cancel the rest out - her bosses would be pissed that she's socializing with one of their top clients. She’ll be out of a job when word gets around. Still, a better offer than faffing around finding a motel room. Ella nods, getting into the car as Clyde holds the door for her before shutting it with more care than she thought possible from the broad-shouldered man.