his pocket. His arm extends towards me with something gripped between his fingers. Confusion replaces the relief, and I definitely don’t imagine Miller turning stone cold next to me. ‘Take it,’ Gregory prompts, waving his arm forward.
A shimmer of silver catches the porch light, seeming to blind me like low, winter sunlight. Then I notice the perfect scrolled font. Miller’s ‘business’ card. My heart beats up to my throat and wedges itself there.
Miller’s hand flies out and snatches the card. ‘Where the fuck did you get this?’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Gregory says calmly, in total control, while I lose control completely, my body vibrating violently with shakes.
‘It fucking matters,’ Miller growls, balling his fist, folding his business card in on itself until it’s out of sight. ‘Where?’
‘Fuck you.’
Miller’s gone from my side in a heartbeat. ‘Miller!’ I scream, but he’s fallen into a zone of rage and nothing will pull him back.
Gregory manages to dodge the first blow, but it’s not long before both men are crashing to the concrete on a thunderous bang. ‘Miller!’ My frantic screams are hopeless and so are my frozen limbs, which I vaguely appreciate through my fog of panic. Getting between these two would be foolish, but I hate feeling so useless. ‘Please stop,’ I cry quietly. The tears building in my eyes swell and release, streaming down my cheeks, blurring the painful sight before me.
‘You should’ve kept your fucking nose out!’ Miller roars, yanking Gregory up by his shirt and landing a sickening punch to his jaw, sending my friend’s head snapping to the side. ‘Why the fuck does everyone think they have some god-given right to interfere?’
Smack!
Another punishing blow splits Gregory’s lip and blood bursts from the wound, coating Miller’s knuckles. ‘Leave us the fuck alone!’
‘Miller, stop!’ I shout, attempting to step forward, but my legs turn to jelly, making grasping the wall essential if I’m to stay on my feet. ‘Miller!’
He’s straddling Gregory on the ground, his whole body heaving, sweat streaming down his face. This is the worst I’ve seen him. He’s completely out of control. He yanks Gregory’s torso up by the scruff of his collar bunched in each fist. ‘I’ll rip out the spine of anyone who tries to take her away from me. You’re no exception.’ He shoves Gregory to his back and stands, all the while keeping wild eyes on my friend. ‘You’ll keep this to yourself.’
‘Miller,’ I cry on a sniffle, struggling to gain a steadying breath through my choked sobbing.
He turns slowly towards me and I don’t like what I see. Irrationality. Unruliness. Lunacy. This side of him, the violent, crazy, reckless part, I don’t like at all. It frightens me, not only because of the damage that he can so easily inflict, but also because he seems so unaware while he’s in this destructive mode. Our eyes hold for the longest time, me trying to bring him back around before he does further damage, him heaving uncontrollably before me. Gregory’s in a bad way, struggling to get to his feet behind Miller, clutching his stomach and hissing in pain. He didn’t deserve that.
‘She needs to know,’ Gregory mumbles, standing half bent, clearly in tremendous pain. His barely decipherable words register loud and clear. He thinks I don’t know. He thought he was coming here to share some information on the man he hates that would see me throwing him out of my life. He thinks that’s why Miller has lost the plot, not simply because of his interference and risk of exposure to Nan, which I know now is a massive concern to him. My poor heart is still in overdrive, pounding in my chest, and this realisation has just flipped it up another gear.
‘I already knew,’ I say on a breathy gasp, keeping my eyes on Miller’s. ‘I know what he was and what he did.’ And I know this news will cripple Gregory. He thought he had the perfect reason for me to leave Miller, and he thought he’d be able to comfort me as I dealt with the horrid revelation. He was hoping for that the most. But he’s wrong, and I’m fully aware that this could equal the final blow to our friendship. He’ll never understand why I’m still with Miller, and I doubt my ability to make him see why or the strength required to do it.
‘You knew?’ His tone is now dripping with pure shock. ‘You know that this piece of shit is a fucking gigolo?’
‘An escort,’ I correct. ‘And was.’ I allow my eyes to travel over Miller’s pulsing shoulders to Gregory’s folded body. He’s starting to straighten up.
The disbelief on his face spikes unwanted and unwarranted shame to attack me. ‘What the fuck has happened to you?’ His look of hatred slices right through me, and I clamp my lips together to prevent a sob from ripping past them, knowing it’ll trigger Miller’s insanity again.
I don’t register the door swinging open behind me, but I do register Nan’s age-worn voice. ‘Dinner’s getting cold!’ she snaps, and then silence falls for the briefest of moments while she takes in the scene she’s happened upon. ‘What the devil . . .?’
I don’t get the chance to even think of what explanation can be given to my grandmother. Gregory springs to life and charges at Miller, throwing himself at his mid-section and taking them tumbling down the path onto the street. ‘You bastard!’ he yells, pulling back his fist and sending it catapulting forward on an angry bellow, but Miller’s head dodges it, sending Gregory’s balled fist into the concrete beside his head. ‘Fuck!’
Miller’s up and dragging Gregory with him, pinning him to the low wall at the end of our front garden.
‘Goodness gracious!’ Nan flies past me and throws herself into the middle of the two men, her notorious spunk rearing its ugly head. There’s no display of fear on her old face, just sheer determination. ‘Pack it in!’ she yells, muscling between them and pushing them apart on a shout. ‘That’s enough!’ Both men heave on each side of her, sweating and glaring over her head. She’s brave, but my fear for her is rife as I absorb potent anger firing off from both men, showing no sign of receding. She’s far from frail, but she’s an old lady nonetheless. She shouldn’t be intervening between these two men, especially not Miller. He’s frenzied, unable to rationalise. ‘I’m giving you one chance!’ she warns. ‘Cut it out or deal with me!’
Her words put the fear of God in me, but I doubt they’ll have any effect on these two. So imagine my shock when both men relax and break the staring deadlock in unison. Then I remember William’s light quip.
No one ever made me quake in my boots, Olivia. Only your grandmother.
‘That’s more like it.’ She releases her palms from each man’s chest slowly, ensuring they’ll remain in place. Her face screws up in disgust as she flicks eyes heated with anger between Miller and Gregory. ‘Don’t you dare make me pull you apart again. Do you hear me?’
I’m staggered when Miller nods short and sharp and Gregory sniffs an agreement, wiping his bleeding nose.
‘Good.’ She points to the front door. ‘Get in the house before the neighbours start talking.’
I remain a quiet, stunned observer as Nan takes the reins and regains control of the horrid situation, pushing both men towards the house when neither moves fast enough for her liking. Miller’s head is dropped, and I know it’s in shame at having my dear grandmother, a woman who he respects, bear witness to this aggression. I’m only thankful that she didn’t appear moments earlier when she would’ve caught Miller in full psycho action.
Gregory passes me first, then Nan, and when Miller approaches my motionless form, he slowly drags disturbed eyes to my traumatised ones and stops in front of me. He’s a dishevelled wreck, his shirt and waistcoat all askew and ripped at the shoulder, his hair wild and tangled.
‘I apologise,’ he says quietly, and then turns and strides down the pathway, his long legs eating up the distance to his car in no time.
‘Miller!’ I shout, panicked as I go in pursuit of him. My unsteady legs are of no assistance and tyres screech away from the kerb before I make it to the end of the path. My hand instinctively reaches for my chest,
like a bit of pressure might calm the erratic thumping. It doesn’t and I’m not sure there is anything that will.
‘Livy?’ George’s low husk brings my eyes away from Miller’s disappearing Mercedes to his confused form approaching the house. ‘Sweetheart, what’s going on?’
I give in to my emotions again and fall apart, letting him wrap me in a bear hug and hold my weak body up. ‘It’s all gone horribly wrong,’ I cry into his cable-knit jumper, letting his squidgy chest mould around my diminutive frame.
‘Oh dearie me,’ he soothes, rubbing calming circles into my back. ‘Let’s get you inside.’
George takes a firm hold of my shoulders and guides me up the path, shutting the door gently behind us. Then he steers me to the kitchen, where we find Nan dabbing Gregory’s nose with a damp compress. I can smell the TCP and hear Gregory’s continued hisses, proof that it’s Nan’s treatment of choice. ‘Hold still,’ she chastises him, annoyance still rife in her tone.
Gregory eyes me as George pushes me into a chair and hands me his clean hanky, and Nan swings around, clocking the loss of one person and the gain of another. ‘You’re late!’ she yells at poor, innocent George. ‘Dinner’s ruined and I’ve had a wrestling match in my front garden!’
‘Now hold on one minute, Josephine Taylor!’ George’s back straightens and mine tenses. She’s in no mood to take any backchat, and George should note this from the annoyance pouring from her short, plump body. It doesn’t deter him, though. ‘I’ve just arrived and I can see that dinner being ruined is the least of our worries, so why don’t you put a lid on it and let me help sort out these two sorry states.’
She dabs the compress over Gregory’s lip on a few stutters of shock. ‘Where’s Miller?’ she blurts, her fury now directed at me.
‘He left,’ I admit, wiping at my eyes with the hanky and stealing a risky glance at Gregory. His eyes are narrowed and it isn’t because they’re closing up from the swelling. He’s going to have a shiner on one eye for sure, the opposite eye to the one Miller blackened during their last clash.
My battered friend grumbles something on a sardonic laugh, but I don’t ask him to repeat himself because I know for certain I won’t want to hear whatever he’s said, and neither will Nan or George.
‘What’s happened?’ George asks, taking up the seat next to me.
‘Damned if I know.’ Nan covers Gregory’s split lip with a padded plaster and presses around the edges to ensure it’s stuck tight, ignoring the hisses of protest coming from her patient. ‘All I know is that Gregory and Miller seem to dislike each other, yet no one is willing to enlighten me as to why.’ She turns her expectant eyes towards me, making me drop my gaze to the table, evading her.
Truth is, Miller and Gregory hated each other before Gregory found out about Miller’s tainted past. Now I can only surmise that they categorically despise each other. There’s nothing that’ll fix this. I can have one man or the other. Guilt rips through me as I watch my oldest friend, my only friend, being taped up – guilt for being the root cause of his pain and injuries, and guilt because I know that I won’t pick him.
I stand and pull every set of eyes in the room to me, each body stilling to gauge my next move.
Rounding the table calmly, I lean down to kiss Gregory’s cheek. ‘When you love someone, you love them because of who they are and how they came to be that person,’ I whisper into his ear, and immediately appreciate that Nan’s acute hearing might have caught my declaration. I pray Gregory keeps this information to himself – not for me or Miller, but for Nan. It’ll stir too many ghosts. ‘I didn’t give up on him and I’m not about to now.’ I straighten up and walk calmly out of the kitchen, leaving my family behind to go and comfort my someone.
Chapter Sixteen
The masses of sparkling mirrors lining the lobby of Miller’s apartment block bounce my reflection everywhere, the image of me, tear-stained and hopeless, unavoidable. The doorman tips his hat politely, and I force a meagre smile in return, choosing to ride up to Miller’s in the lift rather than take the few hundred stairs that I’ve almost become unaffected by. I keep my eyes forward when the doors meet and I’m confronted with more mirrors, looking through myself and avoiding the ugly sight of the waif-like woman that I’m faced with.
Once I’ve been in the lift for what seems like for ever, the doors slide open and I force my legs to carry me to the shiny black front door. It takes even more mental encouragement to knock. I would question whether he’s even here . . . if it weren’t for the heavy air surrounding me. Miller’s anger is lingering in the space, closing me in and suffocating me. I can feel it spreading over my skin and settling deep.
I jump back when the door flies open on a harsh yank and I’m met by Miller, looking no better than he did when he stalked away nearly an hour ago. There’s been no attempt to restore his perfect self, his hair still messy, his shirt and waistcoat still ripped, and his eyes still reflecting rage. A glass of whisky sits in his hand, his fingers coated in Gregory’s blood. White fingertips indicate the unforgiving grip he has of the glass as he brings it to his mouth and tips the rest of the contents down his throat, keeping steely eyes on me. I’m fidgeting, my eyes now darting across the floor at my feet, but they fly up when I catch an almost undetectable shift of his shoes. Or stagger. He’s drunk, and when I look harder, focus on those eyes that never fail to capture my attention, I see something more – something unfamiliar – and it catapults my unease to a place beyond anything I’ve ever experienced while in Miller’s presence. I’ve felt vulnerable before, hopeless and helpless, but always on an unsure level. I’ve never felt frightened like this, not even during his psychotic displays of madness. This is a different fear. It’s snaking up my spine and wrapping itself around my neck, making words impossible and breathing challenging. It’s my nightmare. The one where he leaves me.
‘Go home, Livy.’ His tongue is heavy in his mouth, making his words slur slowly, but it’s not his usual, purposeful lazy rasp. The door slams in my face, echoing around me, and I jump back, startled at his maliciousness. I’m pounding the wood with my fist before I can decide if it’s a wise move, fear sailing through me.
‘Open the door, Miller!’ I yell, not relenting with my hammering of the black, shiny wood, ignoring the fast numbing sensation spreading across the side of my balled hand. ‘Open!’
Bang, bang, bang!
I’m going nowhere. I’ll hammer all night long if I have to. He doesn’t get to shut me out of his apartment or his life.
Bang, bang, bang!
‘Miller!’
I’m suddenly attempting to hit thin air, and it sends me on a few disorientated staggers forward. I just manage to steady my flailing body before it collides with Miller’s.
‘I said go home.’ He’s restocked on dark liquid, the tumbler near to overflowing.
‘No.’ I raise my chin in a brave act of defiance.
‘I don’t want you to see me like this.’ He steps forward hostilely, an attempt to make me retreat, but I stand firm, unwilling to be frightened off. We’re closer because of my tenacity, nearly chest to chest, and he’s breathing liquor vapours all over my heated cheeks. ‘I won’t ask again.’
I inwardly wither on the spot, yet sheer determination is refusing to allow him to see it. ‘No,’ I fire simply and confidently. He’s trying to repel me. ‘Why are you doing this?’
In obvious uncertainty, he polishes off the tumbler of dark liquid, a slight wince and gasp spilling from his mouth, accompanied by potent liquor fumes. They make my nose wrinkle in distaste, both at the sight of Miller and the smell of the alcohol.
‘I won’t ask again.’ I push the words through my clenched jaw, playing him at his own game.
He looks me up and down, musing quietly, mumbling incoherent words under his breath as he does. Then his heavy gaze lazily climbs back up the length of my body, apparently in its usual manner, but drunkenness is the cause this time, not Miller’s customary sultry way. He begins
to sway. ‘I’m fucked up.’
‘I know.’ I don’t disagree with him. He’s speaking the cold, hard truth.
‘I’m dangerous.’
‘I know.’
‘But not to you.’
My heart shows signs of life again. I knew that. Deep down, I knew that. ‘I know.’
His head performs something between a nod of satisfaction and an uncontrolled bob upon his wide shoulders. ‘Good.’ He turns and wobbles through his apartment, leaving me to shut the door and follow behind. I know where he’s headed before he momentarily stops and changes course, going to the drinks cabinet. He’s drunk enough, at least to me. However, Miller has other ideas. He clangs the bottle against the glass and tips more on the cabinet than into his glass. ‘Bollocks!’ he curses, dropping the empty bottle haphazardly between the masses of other bottles, causing a loud clattering of glass. ‘Fucking mess!’
On an exasperated sigh, I wander up behind him and set about rearranging the bottles and wiping down the mess he’s made, hoping that restoring part of his perfect world might inject some peace into him.
‘Thank you,’ he murmurs, so quietly I almost don’t hear.
‘You’re welcome.’ I can feel his stare burning through my profile as I mess with the bottles, taking my time . . . or biding it.
Bang!
I fly around quickly towards the sound, Miller a little slower.
Bang, bang, bang!
My previously settling heart rate ramps up a few gears, and I look to Miller, who’s staring in the direction of the door, too. But he doesn’t seem in a rush to go and find out what the commotion is, so I make for the entrance hall and circle the table, just as another harsh knock rings out through Miller’s apartment.
‘Wait,’ Miller snaps, grabbing my upper arm and pulling me to a stop. ‘Stay here.’ He passes me, his usually easy strides challenged by alcohol. I remain still, my mind racing as I watch him glance through the peephole. I can virtually see his hackles rise, and it prompts me to step forward, cautious but too curious to stop myself. He pulls the door open a fraction and makes to step out into the corridor, but his obvious plan to hide our visitor is totally defeated when they push their way into the apartment with
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