Lovers and Liars: An addictive sexy beach read

by Nigel May

  Kassidy moved to the bar. She grabbed her clothes and picked up the will at the same time. Sheridan’s eyes were drooping with drunkenness as she turned to face him again.

  ‘You fuck me better than anyone else I could ever imagine,’ she lied. ‘You are such a man!’

  ‘You know it,’ he slurred.

  She waved the will at him. ‘Shall I have this filed?’

  Sheridan looked up, not altogether sure what was in Kassidy’s hands. He could feel his energy slumping into a drunken lethargy now that he had drained his sexual reservoir. What was she holding? He stared down at her full breasts and the neat triangle of hair between her legs.

  ‘Do what you fuckin’ need to do,’ he garbled. ‘I need to sleep.’

  ‘Sleep well,’ said Kassidy as she left the suite, her clothes still bunched in her hands. She knew that Heather, Nikki and Sutton were all away from the hotel – she had had to order a private jet to New York for them earlier – so they wouldn’t catch her in the buff, and if either Hatton or Fidge did… Well, quite frankly they would be welcome to try it on. At least they were more her own age.

  She saw no one as she ran back to the hotel room she occupied when she worked there late. As she shut the door behind her she glanced at the clock on the wall, trying to calculate the time difference between Barbados and London. A thought struck her that it didn’t matter. The person she needed to speak to would be just like her: when you work for Sheridan Rivers you have to be 24/7, 365 days a year.

  She made her phone call. Job done: will filed. Then she lay back on her bed and for the second time that night spread her legs and opened her sex. This time it was purely for her own satisfaction as she dipped her fingers into the moist folds and began to work them back and forth. Sheridan hadn’t made her climax but as her fingers worked inside her she could feel her own orgasm rising in a blur of satisfaction. As she felt her sexual nerve endings exploding into heavenly life she pictured the reading of the will. Should Sheridan Rivers ever die she would not be left high and dry – her mother would be proud of her.

  As she shuddered into climax, Kassidy couldn’t help but feel that she’d been fucked over by Sheridan Rivers for one last time and that, slowly but surely, her future was looking more secure. She was setting her plans in motion and no one was going to stop her.

  57

  ‘You can’t have hidden cameras in a public place. Surely it’s against the law!’ shouted Hatton Eden as he paced around his hotel suite. He had been unable to relax since the confrontation with Sheridan Rivers the day before. The anger had come in very handy for his earlier sparring match with one of the boxers that Fidge Carter had employed to keep him at the peak of physical fitness. Not that his opponent would have said he enjoyed the anger, now that he was sporting a bruised eye the colour of Barney the Dinosaur. Hatton was beyond angry and all of his rage had risen to the surface, Carrie-like, in order to destroy his opponent. The fact that the sparring match was taking place in the very gym where Sheridan had installed the highly illegal cameras with which he was now baiting Hatton and Fidge only fuelled his anger like petrol to a naked flame.

  ‘Will you stop pacing around, you’re giving me a headache,’ said Fidge, watching his partner strut across the carpet. ‘You’ll be wearing a groove in the floor deep enough to reach Sydney at this rate. You really should hit the showers.’

  ‘I wouldn’t shower in that gym knowing that he – that prick of a man – is watching me. He’s a cunt and he should be punished.’’ Hatton punched his own chest and raised his hands aloft as if emphasising the point. As he did so he checked out his tattooed body in the mirror at one end of his suite. He looked good, ready for the fight with Orlando Vince. The Belter in the Swelter was his as far as he was concerned.

  ‘You need to shower after the bruising you gave that poor bloke earlier. Your skin covering is ninety per cent sweat and ten per cent his blood. The poor man didn’t stand a chance. Now, get in there and clean up.’ Fidge pointed towards the bathroom and smiled as best he could to try and diffuse Hatton’s rage.

  But for now, Hatton wasn’t budging. ‘Doesn’t Sheridan Rivers annoy you too? How can you be so calm?’

  ‘Because pacing like a caged lion isn’t going to do anybody any good. You know full well that I think Sheridan Rivers is a bigoted wanker of the highest order and I wouldn’t care if we never saw him again. He’ll get what’s coming to him, believe you me! But we can’t run the risk of him blowing the whistle on us and exposing our relationship even if deep down nothing would please me more. Life would be easier if everybody knew.’

  ‘Tell that to the homophobes in this sport, to the companies who would drop us like a rotten apple rather than have their brands tainted by our love. I agree with you, but we can’t show people the real us and no matter how much that saddens me, it’s still sadly the case.’

  ‘But I need you to try and keep your stress to a minimum prior to the fight. Mental fatigue is the last thing you need. You leave Sheridan to me and just concentrate on being the best athlete you can.’

  ‘You promise?’

  ‘Have I ever let you down?’ replied Fidge. ‘Now go and clean up.’

  Hatton, still murmuring under his breath, moved off to the bathroom. He pushed the door almost shut and turned on the shower, the power jets bursting into life.

  Fidge heard them sound and sat himself down on the sofa in Hatton’s suite. He too had been in a rage since the meeting with Sheridan yesterday but he was determined not to let his partner see it. They both had a huge amount to lose financially and having the threats of Sheridan hanging over their heads was deeply upsetting. In a perfect world Fidge knew that he and Hatton could declare their love and no one would give a shit. So many people in the public eye were comfortable with their own sexuality and were happy for it to be out in the open arena – Sam Smith, Matt Bomer, Russell Tovey, Neil Patrick Harris… But the worlds of music and media were so different to the sporting world that Hatton and Fidge existed in. Tom Daley had managed it in diving but somehow the violent world of the boxing ring seemed to beat to a totally different and somewhat out-of-tune drum. Deep down, both he and Hatton longed to be role models, hoping to teach those in similar situations that it was okay to be honest to yourself, to be true to who you are. But could they risk it? Fidge didn’t know and that broke his heart. The world of boxing was a place that still thrived on machismo, and even though the world at large was becoming a much better place and a melting pot for people of all sexualities, Fidge was still deeply uncertain about how some people would react. He would hate for other people’s prejudices to be the downfall of all they had worked for. But to remain silent felt wrong, so very wrong. How would things ever change if the words were left unspoken?

  Emotion flowed over Fidge and he felt his legs, normally so strong, buckle underneath him. He sat on the sofa and cried. For about a minute he was lost in his misery, his confusion as to what to do.

  Wiping his face with the back of his hand to mop up the tears Fidge stood up. ‘I won’t let you do this to us, Sheridan Rivers, I won’t,’ he murmured to himself.

  Checking his face in the mirror to see that his tears had dried and that he didn’t look like he’d been upset, he shouted goodbye to Hatton – there was no answer but the sound of the power jets – and then left the suite.

  Blair Lonergan knocked on Sheridan Rivers’s office door. With Sutton, Heather and more importantly Nikki out of town in New York, and suddenly finding himself alone, it was the perfect opportunity for Blair to confront the head of the Velvet empire for a little one-to-one. He too was concerned about the hidden cameras with which Sheridan had threatened him. If there was any cinematic evidence of what Blair had got up to at Velvet hotels around the world then he needed to be aware of what to expect and what Sheridan’s intentions were.

  Sheridan didn’t move from his desk as he beckoned whoever was knocking to enter. Blair opened the door and looked straight into Sheridan’s eyes as he strolled int
o the room. The disappointment was clear to see in the tycoon’s face.

  ‘What the fuck do you want? Isn’t it enough that my weakness of a wife has persuaded me to let you stay and perform at the boxing match without you coming to my door like some modern-day Joseph to see if there’s any room at my inn for you? Which, by the way, there isn’t. So why don’t you leave me and my daughter alone?’

  Blair chose to ignore the comment about Nikki. The last thing he wanted to do was to land her in more trouble with her father by admitting that they were pretty much inseparable. He did however want to discuss the cameras.

  ‘I want to know what you’re going to do with the footage from the hidden cameras, if there’s any?’ demanded Blair. For a strong man, he could hear his voice crack slightly, almost afraid of the tycoon before him.

  ‘I’ve told you there is, haven’t I?’

  ‘And what if I don’t believe you?’

  ‘You will when it hits YouTube.’

  ‘Why would you do that?’

  ‘Oh, I’m becoming rather bored of having the same chat,’ said Sheridan, referencing the virtually identical conversation he had had with Fidge and Hatton the day before. He placed his hand to his mouth and performed a mock yawn, infuriating the DJ as he did so. ‘It’s none of your business, is it? I suggest you move on. You shouldn’t have done what you did if you weren’t prepared for the consequences. And you shouldn’t have tempted my daughter off the straight and narrow. She was a good girl until you came along. I’m still waiting for her to start paying me back, by the way. Do tell her if you see her, although I’m kind of hoping that you’re following my orders and keeping away from her.’

  Again Blair chose to ignore his comments. He was dying to tell him that his daughter was already planning ways to satisfactorily pay off the debt. But that would only play into Sheridan’s manipulative hands and make him think that bullies always won. He was such a pig of a man. For a moment Blair contemplated whether he really wanted to work for someone who seemed more than happy to play with people’s lives with such ease. But he was not stupid enough to forget that his contract with Velvet brought him more riches and travel than any other aspect of his job. And he’d hate to give it up now that he had such a personal interest in Velvet in the siren-shaped form of Nikki.

  Blair wasn’t able to gather his thoughts before Sheridan continued. ‘If I see you with her, other than on a professional basis, I will sever your contract. I don’t need snakes like you in my life, Blair Lonergan.’

  ‘But I…’ stammered Blair. He wanted to say that he had had nothing to do with the missing money, all the stealing had occurred before he arrived on the scene and that Nikki was only doing it to try and avoid burying herself in the shittiest heap of trouble ever – but he couldn’t do it. If he said that it was as if he was blaming Nikki, and that he didn’t want to do. As far as he was concerned, she was blameless, having been forced into every treacherous action through either fear or blackmail or a mixture of both. Blair was more than aware that he had already placed Nikki on a pedestal, but it was a position he was determined to keep her in.

  ‘What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?’ deadpanned Sheridan. ‘Now why don’t you run along and practise some of those tunes of yours, there’s a good boy. If you deliver anything less than the ultimate playlist for the fight I may have to dock your pay a bit. You can’t risk disappointing me, can you? Heaven knows what I might end up doing! Now shut the door on your way out, will you? I’ve a business to run.’ Sheridan looked directly at Blair and smiled: it was an evil smile.

  Blair looked around the office – at the big wooden frames on the walls housing photographs of Velvet hotels around the world, the numerous awards on the shelves behind Sheridan’s desk, the heavy marble ashtray that decorated his desk, the razor-sharp letter opener that shone in the sunlight as it caught the rays coming through the office window… Then he looked at Sheridan.

  He was still smiling.

  As Blair walked from the office he was determined that he would be the one to wipe the arrogant smile off Sheridan’s face – hopefully for good.

  As he closed the door behind him, it was now Blair who was smiling.

  58

  Pasinetta placed a plate of biscuits on the table in front of Sutton, Heather and Nikki. As ever with Pasinetta, presentation was all. The snacks were arranged in a neat little circle, with each round biscuit overlapping the next in perfect formation. The entire circle rested on a lily-white doily on a bone china plate.

  ‘Jesus, girl, who would ever know that you’re from the backstreets of New York City? We never had biscuits this neat and tidy at the salon back in the day! Anyone would think we were living in some quaint little British village with service like that. It’s like having Dame Maggie Smith for a grandma,’ joked Sutton.

  ‘Well, I think it’s adorable,’ said Heather, taking one of the biscuits and nibbling on it.

  ‘You marrying Sheridan meant that I could finally sample some decent things in life, Sutton, so excuse me if I like to do things properly,’ smiled Pasinetta, easing herself into a chair opposite the three women. Despite her advancing years, Sutton’s grandmother was still a vision of perfection, with her wolf-grey hair tied back in a bun, her make-up light and subtle and her clothes an ABC of smart, classic designers. Her nails, though some might deem them a trifle long for a woman of her age, were beautifully painted a deep tone of citrine, bright against her dark skin but on the right side of garish. Her appearance was immaculate, just as it had always been back in the days when she had clucked around her daughter and her co-workers out on the streets or in the salon, a mother hen who would make sure that style could be found and delivered no matter what the budget. Now, thanks to Sutton’s union with one of the richest tycoons on earth, Pasinetta’s ever-spotless style was more Upper West Side than it had ever been when Tilisha was alive.

  It was Tilisha, Sutton’s mother, whom Pasinetta was keen to talk about.

  ‘I need to show you something…’ Pasinetta picked up the remote control lying on the arm of the chair beside her and pointed it at a huge plasma screen hung on the wall of the apartment. The blackness flickered into life, an image of a drag queen filling the screen.

  ‘We’ve come all this way to watch a man in sequinned Gucci?’ smirked Sutton.

  ‘Great legs though,’ said Nikki.

  ‘So sue me if I like to watch RuPaul!’ said Pasinetta. ‘That man has some serious looks and those wigs are out of this world. But no, you’re not here to watch that. I need you to look at this.’

  Pasinetta pressed another button that took her to a list of recorded shows and scrolled down to one marked Entertainment Daily. She selected it and watched as the vision of the drag queen was replaced by an image of Nikki sitting in the lobby of Velvet Toronto, being interviewed by Tash Dallin.

  ‘Oh hello,’ smirked Nikki. ‘My favourite interview. Not. Why are we watching this?’

  ‘I record anything about my family, no matter where you are. I am very, very proud of you all. I saw an advert for this show, which mentioned you, Nikki, so I thought I’d better save it. I’m glad I did.’

  ‘Please don’t tell me we’re going to watch the bit where I fainted into Mum’s arms,’ said Nikki. ‘I think that’s gone viral enough already without me having to suffer it again.’

  ‘You fainted on TV?’ asked Heather.

  ‘Yep, went down like a Miss Universe contestant on bad heels! I should sue the TV company for carrying on filming. I assumed they’d turned the cameras off, seeing as the interview was well and truly over,’ said Nikki, obviously not keen to witness the event again.

  ‘Yes, we’re going to see that, girls,’ replied Pasinetta. ‘But it’s not poor Nikki’s fall that I’m interested in, I need you to see this. And I’m glad that the TV cameras kept filming or else I wouldn’t be able to show you exactly what I need to.’

  The four women watched the screen as Nikki finished answering Tash Dallin’s questions
and walked down into the crowd. As that fateful moment arrived when Nikki had fainted, as pandemonium broke loose, the cameras focussed on the socialite as an hysterical Sutton cradled her in her arms.

  ‘Christ, I’m like a banshee!’ said Sutton, watching her hysteria onscreen.

  Pasinetta paused the screen as the camera whizzed round, panning across the crowd. She knew exactly when to hit the pause button to show what she needed. The face at the centre of the screen was that of Nikki’s blackmailer.

  Just the sight of him caused Nikki to catch her breath. Sutton, Heather and Pasinetta all noticed her reaction.

  ‘That man there,’ said Pasinetta. ‘I never forget a face. I never have and I never will. The face may be about thirty years older, but I know who that is. That’s the man who ran your mother down, Sutton. That’s the evil bastard who killed my Tilisha.’ There was a slight tremble in Pasinetta’s voice as she spoke, as if finally seeing the man who had taken her dear daughter’s life was enough to break her, yet she was determined it wouldn’t. She wouldn’t allow it. The man, whoever he was, had already caused her a lifetime of misery. A hint of a tear formed in the corners of her eyes.

  The reactions of the three members of the Rivers family gathered with Pasinetta were each slightly different as they took in the news. Heather clasped her hand to her mouth as tears pooled in her eyes, thinking of the woman she had never met, her grandmother Tilisha. She had seen countless photos and heard stories from Sutton about what a wondrous woman she had been but the man on the screen had made sure that Tilisha would never see her grandchildren. As she thought of Tilisha’s death, she automatically thought of Max and their unborn child, tears starting to flow as she linked the tragedies together.

  Sutton leapt from her seat as Pasinetta shared her news. ‘You’re kidding me! My mother’s killer was in the same goddamned room as me and I didn’t even know. I swear to God, I would have ripped that dirty little smile off his face!’ She was visibly shaking as she spoke.