She shook him away, raising her hands in front of her.
“Don’t want you to waste your time on me,” he continued.
“Shut up,” she screamed, tears rolling down her cheeks. She had to stop before the end of the prayer, before the threat to Rupert became real, and the curse was complete.
He called her name, but she rushed to the door. She had to for his sake.
Chapter 27
MADISON STRUGGLED for breath. She rushed through the Oxford streets, zigzagging between pedestrians, oblivious of their curious stares. She had to get away from Jericho, from Rupert’s fancy house, from him. She had to shut the whole world out, cut herself off mentally from this madness.
The spell hadn’t been cast. Her limited experience was enough for her to know that. But one more sentence …
The porter Harvey and his boiler hat welcomed her to the haven of Chris Church. She managed a nod in his direction as she kept her head down, hoping the round-faced man wouldn’t notice her tear-stricken cheeks.
Madison headed to the side of Tom Quad, where her dorm was located. There’d been too much happening to her. Tarquin and his dirty, filthy hands. Rupert and his cold, cruel heart. Men were dangerous. All men …
She turned toward the door opposite her own.
No, not all men were like that. Ollie wasn’t.
Fighting her sobs, she knocked. No response. Her anger at the world made her beat her fists against the door with ever-increasing fury.
“Whoooo-hoooh. What the hell is happening?”
Ollie’s slender figure emerged around the door to face her. She still couldn’t control her shaking body and stuttered as she said, “So-sorry. I thought you weren’t there. I needed to lash at something.”
Ollie’s response was to open his door wider and let her in. His room was smaller than hers and didn’t include a separate study. But she loved its oak-paneled walls and the soft comfy chair in the corner, perfect to welcome her broken heart.
“Tell me what happened.” His simple words, his soothing tone released some of the tightness in her shoulders.
Ollie stepped closer to her and, without waiting for her reply, encircled her with his arms. Madison melted into his embrace.
He whispered, “Everything’s going to be all right.”
Her willingness to believe a lie surprised her. Or perhaps he wasn’t lying. Maybe she could find a way out of the corner she was stuck in. She took a step back from her friend and rubbed her upper arms for comfort. “I screwed up.”
“How so?” Ollie gestured for her to sit on the comfy chair. He rested on the edge of his bed, a few feet away from her.
Her cheeks grew warmer. She cleared her throat, ducked her head and blurted out the words. “Something happened with Rupert Vance.”
Ollie raised his hands as if to ward off the truth. “What do you mean? You argued with him, again?”
Madison kept her gaze downcast and started fiddling with her shirtsleeves. She shook her head, “I kissed him before Christmas.” She wouldn’t mention the night they had spent snuggled against each other in her tiny bed, just across the corridor from where Ollie slept.
He leaned away, his eyes narrowed. “I thought you couldn’t stand the guy. What made you change your mind?”
Using her hair to hide her face, she peered up at him from behind her lowered lids. “He was different that night. We talked about personal stuff.”
“Okay, then that’s good, no?”
“He dumped me today. He’s staying with his tight-assed girlfriend.”
Ollie shook his head, as if Rupert’s choice didn’t make sense at all. “God, I had forgotten he was going out with that bombshell.”
Her head jerked backward, and she stared straight into his eyes. “No need to rub salt in my wounds.”
A cheeky smile had spread over her friend’s face, his eyes throwing sparks through his round-rimmed glasses. He had been teasing her.
His hand came to rest on her thigh. “Come on, Maddie. You must admit you took a risk. And you got burned. Next time, you’ll find someone who’s ready to commit to being with you.”
Without any warning, she burst out sobbing again and pressed her hands to her cheeks.
“No. It’s never going to happen.” His eyes tried to establish contact with hers, but she avoided them. “I’m like all the women in my family, like my mom, and my grandmother. Men use us, then throw us away like dirt. Tarquin knew that. That’s why he thought he could get away with it.”
Ollie came and kneeled at her feet. He took hold of both her hands. His warm touch comforted her somewhat.
“Who is this Tarquin? Has he hurt you?”
Crumpling against the back of the chair, she pulled her limbs toward her core. “He tried. When I was back in Louisiana, he surprised me one night. But I fought back.” And Peter saved her.
He bent his head closer to her and squeezed her hands. “Did you talk to the police?”
She hadn’t, and she really should have, but explaining her reasons for not doing so would mean exposing her family’s background. Voodoo was already a bit weird in Louisiana, so here in Oxford, with Ollie, no way. Therefore she chose to lie to him and nodded.
“Good. I hope that guy rots in hell.” He took a deep breath and puffed his cheeks as he exhaled. “You shouldn’t lose faith in men just because of that Tarquin … or because of Rupert. Look at me, I’m in love and I would do anything to make Pippa happy.”
His words shone through the room like the midday sun. The guy was in love, no doubt. Jealousy tickled at Madison’s heart. What made Pippa more deserving of love?
But Ollie’s warmth brought a smile to Madison’s face. As long as there were guys like him, there might be a chance that she wouldn’t end up miserable and alone.
“Are you going to move in together at some point?”
“I’d love to. But you know Pippa, I don’t want to scare her. It’s only been a few weeks.”
Yes, and Pippa had a sketchy track record with boys.
“You have to believe in yourself, Madison. You’re strong, you’re incredibly smart. Most guys I know would love to go out with you, if only you didn’t look so unattainable,”
His comment took her aback. “Un-a-ttai-na-ble?” She grimaced through every syllable.
“Totally. You live in your own secret world, far away from the rest of us, poor mortals.”
She had tried so hard to fit in. She had escaped to Oxford, as far away from her roots as she could, to be able to be like everybody else.
Clearly, it hadn’t been a success.
So far.
Chapter 28
RUPERT LOATHED public transport. Next time, he’d splash out on a taxi. Taking the bus to and from training was as painful as the training itself.
He repositioned his sports bag on his sore shoulder. The gesture was enough to send a jolt of pain through his muscles that made him grimace. Maybe not quite as painful after all.
His dear Morgan had run into trouble again, but was now in expert hands for another round of repair. Hopefully, his toy would be back with him by the end of the week. Memories of Madison jumped to the forefront of his consciousness, and a pang of remorse and regret tweaked his heart. How she had taken the piss out of his car on their way to Magway … Now she’d probably never get in the thing again.
He had been a jerk to her. That had been his plan and he had followed through. She hated him now. She would turn the page on him, on them, without any regret.
He wouldn’t.
Rupert entered his road with relief. Streetlights threw blurry halos of light across the tarmac at regular intervals. He would be home in a minute and could then crash out on his bed.
The roaring sound of an engine disturbed the silent night and his comforting thoughts, followed by the screech of wheels. The sounds dragged Rupert’s eyes toward his house. A silver Audi erupted from its private driveway. Monty’s car.
He drove into the road in a sketchy turn. The wh
eels screeched again.
Not good.
Suspicion stirred in Rupert’s gut. He stepped into the road and lifted his arm in a wide, halting gesture. Monty gave a brutal stomp on the breaks. The wheels scratched at the road.
Rupert knocked at the passenger’s window. When the glass descended, music exploded into the street and threatened to deafen the whole neighborhood. He leaned forward to take a look at the driver. Anger burst inside him.
A cigarette hung from Monty’s mouth, his glassy eyes were out of focus, and the internal light in the car drowned his face under a light the color of puke. Monty was high, hammered, and he was driving.
“Are you taking the piss, mate?” Rupert tightened his grip on the straps of his sport bag.
Monty couldn’t even manage an answer. His hands began a vague gesture, then crashed down onto his lap.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Rupert demanded.
Words blurted out of Monty’s mouth. “Ran out of beer.”
Bright red flashed in front of Rupert’s eyes. He opened the door of the passenger seat to open an avenue to his anger. “You’re plastered and you are driving to get more booze. Get out.”
No reaction.
“Right now.”
Monty rested his head against the back of his seat and shut his eyes. Finally, he put a whole sentence together. “You play badass, but when it’s time to break loose you’re prim and proper. Go back to Africa and save the children.”
“I’m not playing. Get out and I’ll drive the—”
Monty sprang out of his slumber. In a flash he grabbed the gearstick and rammed it forward. He hit the accelerator and the Audi roared.
Rupert jumped in and had to let go of his bag. “Shit.”
He extended his hand and took hold of the door handle, slammed it shut and in one continuous movement he took care of his seatbelt.
“Put your seatbelt on, jackass.” He ordered Monty, who obeyed.
The car took another rough turn at the end of their road, then a few more. They had made it onto Woodstock Road. Rupert relaxed, a bit. The road was wide and straight. Monty had tempered the speed.
“What’s wrong with you?”
Monty drew on his cigarette, its end lighting up at each puff. “I’m bored. You’re always training, or studying with that prissy American of yours. We used to have fun.”
“We still can have fun without going to jail.” Rupert had to shout over the blistering music.
No answer came from the driving seat. His hand tight on the dashboard, his eyes glued on the road, Rupert shut up for a minute. There was no reasoning tonight. Vodka, beer, gin had anesthetized Monty’s brain. And Rupert hated night drives.
“You’ve missed the liquor store anyway, mate. So pull the car over, and I’ll take it from there.”
From the side of his seat, Monty pulled out an open bottle of beer. He took a sip, but his free hand was shaky and liquid spilled over his face. “Yeah, because you’re such a great driver. Tell that to your mother.”
The blood froze in Rupert’s veins. He tightened his jaw and his fists clenched on the dashboard.
Monty wasn’t out of it enough to miss the mental punch his comment had made. He dropped the bottle on the floor, wiped his face with his free hand, and mumbled “Sorry, dude, that was—”
He didn’t finish. Light flashed inside the car like thunderbolt.
A car was coming from the opposite direction.
The Audi had deviated.
Rupert grabbed the wheel, sending the car sideways. He managed to avoid a crash but lost control of the vehicle. The Audi swerved and Rupert’s head spun.
Monty screamed.
A bang. A crash. The airbag exploded into Rupert’s face.
Silence.
Then a cough. His cough. His lungs sucked in a gulp of air.
Rupert pushed the airbag out of his face, but the taut balloon resisted.
Memories of another night collided in Rupert’s mind. Panic took over. Not again, please God, not again.
“Grrr …” Monty muttered next to him. He was alive.
It wasn’t happening again.
Rupert’s eyes picked out a glimmer of light. He squeezed his body out from under the airbag, the pressure of which had started to burn his chest. He stole a glance at what was happening outside the car.
Fear tensed his muscles.
The car had crashed into an electricity pole now embedded into the front of the Audi. Small tongues of fire escaped from the engine.
Get your ass out of this car, Vance.
He unclicked both their seatbelts, and with another twist of his body extended his arm to open the passenger door. It worked. With a kick he opened the door wide.
He extracted himself from the car and circled its bonnet to stand in front of Monty’s door. It was stuck. Rupert tried again and again, pulling and pulling. No success.
He heard screams in the background. The siren of a police car screeched through the darkness. He couldn’t wait for help. The fire was building up.
Swearing at the airbag and the burning on his chest, he ran back to the other side of the car, used the passenger seat to support himself, slid his hands along Monty’s back and grabbed his friend underneath his shoulders.
How he found the strength to pull Monty’s body out, he didn’t know. The heat now blasting out of the car was putting his skin on fire. Someone helped him carry Monty away. A policeman. They took him as far as they could until the blast of the explosion threw them to the ground.
Rupert covered Monty’s body with his. He couldn’t see the car burning.
He didn’t want to.
The only thing that mattered now was whether Monty would make it out of his own drunken stupidity.
“Don’t fucking die on me.”
RUPERT LOATHED hospitals even more than he did public transport. He had already been discharged, only a few hours after the accident. The doctor had kept repeating, “It’s a miracle, a miracle.” Over and over.
Rupert bloody knew it was. The last time he had been in a car crash, he had remained out cold for two days. Last night, he had escaped with light burns on his torso. More importantly, Monty only suffered concussion.
The coffee tasted bitter, its texture watery. He threw the half-full paper cup in the trash and stared through the window. Dawn was finally breaking, closing the curtains on one of the shittiest nights in his entire life. And he had had a few already.
He’d talk to that dumbass. He’d give him a piece of his mind. As soon as he was home, he would throw out every last bottle of gin, of vodka, even his fine wines … or maybe he would save the wines and send them to Magway. Out of Monty’s reach.
“He wants to talk to you.”
Rupert turned toward the policeman who had helped him save Monty. The dark shadows under his eyes showed that last night had been busier than the average night shift.
“Thank you, officer. Thank you for saving my friend.” And, because Rupert suspected that he’d see more of the police over the next days, or months, he added, “I’ll make myself available for any interviews or tests, or whatever you want me to do.”
The policeman was a short man, and he had to tilt his head backward to look into Rupert’s eyes. “I didn’t save your friend, you did. That was bloody courageous.”
Rupert shuffled on his feet and lowered his gaze. He hadn’t expected praise.
The policeman continued. “Now, it’s going to be a different story for your friend. He’d better get a good lawyer. But, provided your blood test comes back clean, you should be fine. Montgomery testified you got into the car only to discourage him from driving under the influence.”
Relief flooded over Rupert. A drink-driving charge would have meant a lot of trouble and a guaranteed expulsion from Coach Bartlett’s team. Rupert had trained too hard to kiss goodbye to his goal: winning that damned race.
He nodded to the policeman and thanked him again, then pushed open the door to M
onty’s room. The curtains were half drawn and the room was bathed in the dim morning light. Rupert exhaled. Monty was lying on the hospital bed, a bandage wrapped around his head. But he was safe. He wouldn’t be dying anytime soon. Rupert fought back tears.
He couldn’t lose someone else, someone else he loved. “You’re such a jackass.” Affection wrapped around the insult. Monty’s eyes opened wide. A faint smile lightened his bruised face.
“I’m paying for it, mate. It’s the worst headache ever.”
“Good.” Rupert stood next to the bed. Monty gestured toward a plastic cup on the side table. Rupert grabbed it and held his friend’s head while he sipped the water through a straw. “Just like a baby.” Monty let out a sad laugh and put his head back on the pillow. He shut his eyes, obviously exhausted by the effort. “I’m so sorry.”
“So you should be. You’re even more stupid than I am. That says it all, dumbarse.” Monty shook his head. “No, not just for that. For what I said in the car … about your mother.”
The memory flashed back in Rupert’s head. “You were drunk. It’s forgotten.”
“Nope. The truth is that I’d like to be more like you.”
“Like me?” That was a first in Rupert’s life.
“You spent your gap year teaching kids in Africa. I spent it bungee jumping in New Zealand. You’re training for the race, while my drinking is getting worse and worse. I’m stuck in the same old shit. You’re doing something with your life.”
“I’m not,” Rupert denied vehemently.
“Yes, you are. You even have a nice girl in love with you.” Rupert’s heart stopped beating.
In love with me?
“Who?” He already knew the name, but the illusion was comforting.
“The American girl you dumped last week. She’s totally into you.”
Really? How can you see that? Did she say anything to you?
Rupert wanted to ask these questions and more, but that would have made him sound like a girl.
“You’re one of the good guys, Rupert. You saved my life.”
Oxford Whispers Page 15
