Too Good Girl

by Eleanor Lloyd-Jones

  God I loved her.

  She unraveled beneath me twice before I followed her, and I kissed her sweat slicked skin, every inch of it as she lay panting. I trailed my lips and tongue, then my fingers, across her chest and breasts, down her stomach to her thighs. I smoothed my palms down the backs of her calves and made my way back up again, stopping between her legs to inhale her scent, to lick and suck her into submission one final time before I brought her whole world crashing down.

  ***

  Showered, fed and clothed, we lay together on the sofa, me on my back, Syra on her side between my legs with her head on my stomach. I played with the strands of her dreadlocks with my fingers, and periodically stroked her neck and face. “My dad has worked for Doug since I can remember. They went to school together. There were three of them: best friends and blood brothers. They did everything together, their girlfriends were all friends and then after they left school, they started up a used car business together.”

  She listened without questions, even though I could see them forming in her head, and I continued with my story, weaving it as sensitively as I could to try to let her down gently.

  “They eventually all got married to their high school sweethearts and two of them had kids with their wives. My dad’s wife—my mum—left when I was two, and I haven’t seen her since. Neither of us have.” I felt her shift slightly underneath me, and I pulled her closer so she was resting her cheek over my heart. “My dad distanced himself, turning to drink to get through each day, and it was then that things broke down between the three friends. Doug’s wife left him and he turned bitter and twisted. He was frugal and greedy, and his ultimate goal was to make more and more money. He monopolised the business, taking charge, and began controlling the company, making changes that the other two didn’t want. My dad didn’t have much power over Doug, and in a bid to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table, he found himself complying and running around after him, doing exactly what he was asked in order to get paid. It was my dad who first started stealing cars for the business. The other friend was loyal and with a new baby on the way, he swallowed his pride and took orders from his friend.

  “They got rich quick—not my dad, because he would gamble all his spare money away and drink it—and the more money they made, the more powerful they became. Doug’s ambitions grew bigger and he eventually fell into the world of drugs.”

  The word had Syra lifting her head to look at me, her eyes full of uncertainty and worry. We moved so I could hold her, look at her, and I pressed a kiss to her lips.

  “He’s some kind of drug lord isn’t he?”

  I nodded. “Big time. He’s dangerous. He’s got people in high places and he’s got people in the lowest imaginable places who literally don’t give a fuck about anyone or anything and with a snap of his fingers, he can and does send those low life fuckers out to do his dirty work.”

  She shook her head. “I should have known. You should have told me.”

  “Knowing would have put you in more danger. Knowing would have meant that words could have slipped out of your mouth without warning and landed you in a whole heap of trouble. That’s why I haven’t told you until now. Although—”

  “I’d begun to wonder. Since working at the club.”

  “I shouldn’t have left you there that night. As soon as I realised you worked for him, I should have dragged you out of there, but—”

  “But I’d pushed you away and you’d had enough.”

  I smiled sadly at her. “Something like that.”

  “But you’re here now. So that’s all that matters.”

  I hoped to God that it would be all that mattered. She didn’t know the half of it yet. She didn’t know she been pimped out and I wasn’t sure I would have the courage to tell her. “Cocaine is a huge business, and Doug is currently at the top of his game in the UK. He hides behind the club and the car business—although quite why he continues to acquire the cars illegally now I don’t know—and through cunning and smart business, he remains in the Faymere public eye as one of the town’s self-made millionaires, and it stops there. He keeps his nose clean, his name is never dropped and he pays everyone else to do the work whilst he sits back and watches his money pot overflow. He’s clever. Very clever. And until now, he’s been able to remain static and not draw attention to his darker side.”

  “But now the police are interested in him.”

  “It seems so.”

  “Why?”

  I took a deep breath, the next part of the story ready to unfold. “When I was eleven or twelve, my dad and Doug fell out, big time. Dad ended up in some real debt through gambling, and Doug had had enough of him. They distanced themselves and Dad found himself out of work.” I sat up a bit and reached for my drink. It had been a shit time in my life, one I’d buried and forgotten about, but thinking back to it seemed to drag my heart into my mouth and cause my throat to constrict. “I got bullied at school for my appearance—my too-short-trousers and dirty jumpers. I’d got into fights, trying to defend my father from childish name calling and jeers from kids who didn’t know the half of it.”

  Syra’s hand squeezed my arm tightly, protectively. “Shit. I had no idea.”

  I shrugged and sighed. “I didn’t want you to know. It’s all done now. I put it behind me and I moved on from it.” This was the side to Jack Palmer she didn’t know. This was my past, and I’d only ever talked to her about my present.

  She dropped her eyes to the floor. “More than I can say for myself.”

  I lifted her chin to meet her expression and shook my head. “Don’t do that.” I kissed her. “As you once screamed at me, your situation was… is different. We all deal with things differently. Do not apologise for who you are. Okay?”

  “All this time and you’ve kept it hidden from me. Your heartache—your pain and sadness, and I’ve practically thrown mine in your face.” She lifted her eyes to mine and I shook my head again as a sheen of tears caused them to glisten.

  “We’re not doing this, Syra. We’ve both made stupid mistakes over the years and both have scars to tell stories about, but now, we are doing this.” I wagged my finger between us. “This, us, is all that matters. Okay? Regardless of what happened back then, this is what’s going to make us stronger, together. We are going to walk side by side, holding each other up and pushing each other on.”

  She swiped at her face and pulled in a shaky breath. “So what happened when he lost his job? How did you live? Eat?”

  “Dad signed on at the dole office, but it was pittance and didn’t get us anywhere near what we needed. Sometimes he’d forget to go.” I dropped my head back against the sofa, losing myself for a few minutes in the memories of lying awake with my stomach grumbling so hard I thought I would die. “It was hard. But we got by. Doug gave him his job back after a few months, but it was never the same between them. Dad was indebted, and he was not in a position to argue with him. Doug had cleverly trapped him into a lifelong obligation. It didn’t stop Dad from gambling, but that only made it easier and easier for Doug to keep him where he wanted him.”

  “You said there were three of them. You haven’t said much about the third.”

  And there we were, at the part of the story that would send us flailing over the edge, and I wasn’t sure if we would go together or if she would leave me to fall by myself. We sat back against the cushions, my arm around her, her head on my shoulder and I told her of the third friend. “I never met him. He kept to himself and his family aside from work. Dad said he was the sensible one, the quiet one. He was the glue that had held them all together, even though Doug’s influence had overpowered the three of them.” I picked up her fingers and threaded them with my own, and I knew she could sense the hesitation I was feeling.

  “What are you avoiding telling me?”

  My jaw ticked as I fought to get my words in order. “He was Doug’s right hand man in all manner of things. He was the man people
would go through to get to Doug. The front-of-house man. I’ve seen photos of him. There seemed something stoic and strong about him.” Turning her hand over and kissing the palm of it, I looked at her and smiled gently. “He was a good man, despite who he was mixed up with. Dad was adamant about that when he told me the tale.”

  “You’re scaring me. Cut to the chase.” Her eyes wouldn’t stay in one place, flicking from one of my eyes to the other, waiting, begging me to finish. “What did the police want? Tell me what this is all about.”

  I held her gaze with mine and huffed out a defeated lungful of air. “His name was Victor. Victor Johnson.”

  Syra

  406 by Riley Pearce

  IT WAS THE second time in twenty-four hours I’d heard someone else speak his name. I sat up slowly, my whole face frowning as I looked at Jack, not quite joining the dots, not quite understanding. “What?”

  He turned to face me, taking hold of my hands, but I snatched them away like they were hot coals.

  “Why are you saying these things? What are you trying to tell me?”

  He squeezed his eyes shut as if he were trying to block out the need for the conversation, like he could brush it away and we could forget about it. He was clearly struggling, but my need was urgent. The whole ordeal, from the moment he’d left me standing in our kitchen, had taken its toll. I was ready to be done. Something was telling me that this revelation, whatever it was turning into, would be the climax, the moment life would stop shoving me one way or the other but instead push me to the ground and trample on me. A few weeks ago, I would have welcomed the end, but with my heart finally beating for a real reason, I was scared.

  “Syra, your dad was Doug’s partner. He—”

  “Was a drug lord, too.” It wasn’t a question. It was a realisation, a dawning of all that had been hidden from me—I supposed to keep me protected. But it was also a big bold statement, a neon flashing light, and I slumped back into the cushions on the sofa, resting my head on his shoulder. It wasn’t like I hadn’t known he was mixed up with drugs, but the idea that he’d been the kind of person who associated himself with people like Doug Patterson had my chest deflating and a painful ache forming in my throat. When the policewoman had said he worked for Doug, part of me hadn’t believed her, and part of me had dismissed it, assuming she meant he worked for him from a distance. A mechanic perhaps. My dad had been my hero, much like all dads were to their little girls, I imagined. He’d been on a pedestal my whole life, one that had come crashing down once I found out the truth when I was sixteen. But now? Well now it felt like a kick in the gut whilst I was already down, salt in an already painful wound that had never quite healed. “I guess that’s how he had access to all the heroin he needed in order to fucking kill himself.” Tears stung at my eyes and I swiped at them angrily. “Why? Why so fucking stupid?” I stood quickly to my feet and grabbed the photo of him from the mantle piece—the one of him alive, smiling, happy… The tears fell then as I tried to remember him that way, but instead his image was tainted and marred. It was soiled and spoiled and the dad I’d adored didn’t seem to be looking back at me anymore. I dropped to a crouch on the floor, the photo frame hanging limply from my fingers, before slumping against the sofa. “I hate him. I hate him.” A rage bubbled inside of me and I launched the photo across the room, a sob choking me as the sound of shattered glass reached my ears.

  Jack was on the floor with me within second, wrapping me up in his strong arms, as ever shoving his own heartache aside to make room for mine. He cradled me like he had done so many times over the last few days, and I let him. I selfishly wallowed in the feeling of utter betrayal and let him hold me.

  But the worst was yet to come.

  He wasn’t done taking.

  “You don’t hate him, Sy. You’re hurting because you feel like you didn’t know him. But you did. He was still your dad. He loved you no less. His love for you isn’t diluted because of what you’ve learned. He was a good man. I know he was. Dad told me. And I believe him. And…” He trailed off, turning me to look at him. “He didn’t kill himself.”

  Wiping my face, I shook my head. “Maybe not directly, but he was the one stupid enough to share needles with some junkie. Who even does that?”

  He pressed his lips to my temple, speaking softly against my skin. “Someone who is hurting. Someone trying to bury their heartbreak.”

  I stilled against him, his words echoing around me as I tried to catch them so I might understand what he was saying. I was tired of asking questions, and he didn't seem to need to hear them in order to continue talking.

  “Around the time things got bad for my dad and me, your dad fell out with Doug, too. They had a fight. Your dad almost killed him, and probably would have done had my dad not stepped in and broken them up. The police were called by some eye witness, but no one pressed charges. They claimed it was a misunderstanding and all went their separate ways, but the issue drove a wider wedge between my dad and Doug, and your dad sunk lower and lower.”

  I listened to his voice and tried to piece the bits of the puzzle together in my mind. It didn’t sit right with me that my dad would lash out over a misunderstanding, and he certainly hadn’t been the type to allow life’s difficulties to drag him under, or so I thought I remembered. Jack was leaving out important details, and I wasn’t sure why. Was he still trying to protect me?

  Turning my body to face him, I held his eyes with mine for a few moments, watching the waves crash amidst their beauty. He held my heart in his hands, and I had to trust he would keep it safe—that he wouldn’t drop it or lose it. I had to trust that when he gave me the final piece of the story, he would clutch it tightly to his chest and hold it until the storm inside me subsided. My voice came out as a whisper, the most quiet sound, but he heard it enough to feel the weary emotion it was laced with. “Tell me.”

  He leaned forwards, his forehead pressing against my own, and his eyes closed. “This is going to hurt, Sy. But know that I am here. I am here for all of you—for all of your pain, and no matter how long it takes, we will get through this together.”

  I grabbed his face and kissed his lips. “I hurt so much already.”

  He nodded. “I know.” He emptied his lungs noisily as if bracing himself for what was to come. “Your father almost killed Doug that day because he’d discovered he was having an affair with your mum.”

  I blinked.

  I swallowed.

  I nodded. “Okay.” I twisted my fingers together in my lap.

  “It had been going on for two or three years without him knowing, and that day, your mum had told him she was pregnant with Doug’s child.”

  He searched my face for a reaction, but there wasn’t one. I continued to blink and swallow and nod. The words were coming at me, but I was deflecting them before they hit my heart. My head accepted them and then batted them to the ground for them to be trampled on.

  “How did she know it was Doug’s?”

  “Because your father had been away on business for a couple of months.”

  I pressed my lips into a thin line. “Figures.”

  Smoothing his thumb over my bottom lip that had begun to tremble, he pulled me to his chest. “You were eight or nine at the time. I don’t know how much you remember of back then.”

  I shook my head. “Not much. Just specific events and feelings.”

  “You mother hid her pregnancy from you, and then once the baby was born—”

  My head shot up, reality sinking its teeth into me, and I pushed away from him. “Sorry what? The baby was born?” I stood up, pacing the floor, my hands in my hair and disbelief waging a war inside of me. “So there—there’s a child somewhere that I am related to?”

  He moved back to the sofa, sitting down and nodding. “Somewhere. I’m not sure where or how, but out there is—”

  “And you’re only just telling me? Are you fucking serious right now?”

  With his jaw tickin
g and his hands scrubbing at his unshaven face, he looked up at me. “This was not my story to tell until now.”

  “But you love me.” I turned on him, anger flashing from my eyes. “You love me and you’ve hidden this from me.” I lunged for the door handle, yanking at it and rushing into the corridor, but he was behind me in a split second, grabbing my arm and pulling me back. “Syra, this is not our fight. Okay? Look at me.”

  “No, Jack. I don’t want to fucking look at you. You were my friend. You were my best friend and you kept this shit from me?” I laughed—an incredulous laugh loaded with blame. “Some fucking friend.”

  “Syra. Please.”

  “No. Let go of me.” I yanked my arm away from his grasp, grabbed my coat from the banister and stormed out of the house, away from his words, away from his secrets and away from his heart that I ached for with every beat of my own.

  ***

  “How could you?” I stood, my jaw aching from clenching my teeth so hard. I grabbed at her arm, yanking her up into a sitting position. “Get up.” I pulled again, her limp and drug-filled body resisting and too heavy for me to manoeuvre. “Get up!” Screaming in her face, I let my tears spill over, choking on them and hiccuping my anger at her. “You liar. You lying cheat.”