One Night: Unveiled

by Jodi Ellen Malpas

  My resentment multiplies, and it’s now held solely for William Anderson. It seems to have become his life goal to make my life as difficult and as miserable as possible. I’d love to snatch the phone from Miller’s angry grasp and spit a few choice words down the line.

  ‘Well she’s with me, she’s safe, and I’m done explaining, Anderson. We’ll reconvene tomorrow. You know where to find me.’ He tosses his phone down, all bristly and worked up.

  ‘Who was that?’ I ask, smiling when Miller gapes at me.

  ‘Really, Olivia?’

  ‘Oh, lighten up,’ I breathe, swinging my legs off the sofa. ‘I’m ready for bed. Coming?’

  ‘I might tie you down.’

  I recoil a little, frantically batting away the rapid influx of images that are dancing at the front of my mind, reminding me. Belts.

  Miller visibly winces when he catches the unmistakable horror on my face. ‘So you don’t knee me in the balls,’ he rushes to clarify. ‘Because you’re a terrible fidget in bed.’ An awkward hand sweeps through his waves as he stands.

  Humour chases away the flashbacks. I know I’m an awful fidget in my sleep. My bedcovers come morning are proof. ‘Have I caught you in the crown jewels?’

  He frowns. ‘The what?’

  ‘Crown jewels.’ I smile. ‘Balls.’

  His hand comes towards me, but I keep my eyes on a face full of exasperation, relishing the fact that he’s trying his utmost not to fuel my sass. ‘Many times. Elbows in my ribs, knees in my balls, but they’re a small price to pay for having you in my arms.’

  I take his hand and let him pull me to my feet. ‘I’m sorry.’ I’m not sorry at all. I’d give anything to be a fly on the wall so I could watch my night-time shenanigans and Miller fighting to cope with them.

  ‘I’ve already forgiven you, and I’ll forgive you again tomorrow morning.’

  I chuckle quietly but halt in the blink of an eye when the sound of a harsh knock at the door cuts into our light repartee. ‘Who’s that?’ I ask, my eyes swinging to the window. My sass receives the proverbial equivalent of a douse of petrol to a spark. If William’s made a special trip to express his displeasure personally, then my sass might burst into uncontrollable flames.

  Miller’s gone in a flash, taking the woollen throw with him, and I’m left butt-naked and alone in the lounge. I didn’t like the anxious vibes emanating from him before he left. Not at all. Creeping on my tiptoes to the door, I peek down the hallway, seeing he’s wrapped the throw around his waist and secured it by tucking the edge in, but he’s still far from decent. So when he opens the door and steps out without a word or concern for his semi-naked body, my mind goes into overdrive. And then I catch a glimpse of shiny ebony locks before the door clicks shut.

  My sass explodes into angry flames. ‘The cheeky bitch!’ I gasp to no one in particular, going in pursuit of Miller but pulling to a sharp halt when I allow the fact that I’m naked to worm past the anger. ‘Shit!’ I turn and sprint into the lounge, locate my clothes, and yank them on. I fly towards the source of my anger at a dangerous rate and wrench the door open, coming face-to-face with Miller’s naked back, but I’m far too consumed by fury to appreciate it. I push him aside and let my angry eyes punch holes into Cassie’s perfect frame, ready to hurl a torrent of verbal abuse her way.

  Except she’s not perfect today, and the shock of her pitiful state halts me dead in my tracks. She’s pasty, almost grey in complexion, and the designer clothes she usually wears are nowhere to be seen. She has on black sweatpants and a dull grey roll-neck jumper. Hollow eyes cast away from Miller and fall onto me. Despite her personal crisis, it’s clear she still has nothing but contempt where I’m concerned.

  ‘Good to see you, Olivia.’ There’s not a scrap of sincerity in her tone.

  Right on cue, Miller’s palm finds my neck and begins a vain attempt to rub my irritation away. I shrug him off and square my shoulders. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Livy, go inside.’ His grip is back on my neck and trying to turn me. He can forget it.

  ‘I asked her a question.’

  ‘And it’s usually polite to answer, right?’ Cassie retorts, full of smugness.

  A red mist starts to descend. He doesn’t only use that term with me? I’ve never thought about it, but now, having it thrown in my face by this lunatic bitch, it’s all I can focus on. He sounds like an arrogant prick when he says it, yet the feeling of betrayal is there. And it’s unwarranted and silly. All I can see in my mind is Cassie draped over Miller all those times, and then quickly I have a flashback of Miller’s office and her lashing at him with sharp fingernails while she screamed, deranged.

  ‘Cassie,’ Miller warns, still attempting to direct me away from what could potentially be eruptions.

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ she huffs on an over-the-top roll of her eyes.

  ‘Will you quit?’ I snap at Miller, shaking him off. ‘After what she did to you last time, when she attacked you, do you truly expect me to go inside?’

  ‘What about what he did to me?’ Cassie blurts. ‘The bruises have only just faded!’

  ‘Then you shouldn’t behave like an animal,’ I hiss in her face as I step forward, fully aware that she wasn’t the only one, and the other animal is beginning to bristle next to me.

  ‘For fuck’s sake,’ Miller mutters, pulling me back to his side. ‘Cassie, I told you earlier we’ll deal with this tomorrow.’

  ‘I want to deal with it now.’

  ‘Deal with what?’ I ask, my irritation flaring. ‘And how the hell do you know where I live?’ I look up at Miller. ‘Did you tell her?’

  ‘No.’ He grits his teeth, his blue eyes now full of aggravation. ‘No one knows I’m here.’

  I throw my arm out in the general direction of Cassie. ‘She does!’

  ‘Olivia!’ Miller shouts, pulling me back into him. I hadn’t realised I was moving forward. Jesus, I feel like the devil has taken over my mind and body. I feel dangerous.

  ‘Why is she here?’ I shout. That’s it. I’ve lost it. The shit-fest of today, of the past few months, in fact, has finally caught up with me. It’s all going to spill out of me right now and Cassie is going to cop the lot.

  ‘I came to apologise,’ she says indignantly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘We said tomorrow,’ Miller pipes up, pointing a finger in her face while he keeps a tight hold on me. ‘I told you earlier to wait until tomorrow. Why the hell can’t you just fucking listen for once?’

  ‘Are you sorry?’ I ask.

  Her scowling eyes sink into me, then turn to Miller. ‘Yes.’

  ‘For what?’ I press.

  ‘For the way I’ve treated you.’ She turns to me slowly. There’s still no trace of genuineness. She’s here because she doesn’t want to lose Miller. She hates that he’s leaving her behind, that he’s leaving their dark world to find his light.

  ‘He’s mine now.’ I pry Miller’s hand from my arm and step forward. ‘Body and soul, mine.’ I ignore the pang of trepidation that arises as a result of the mild doubt Cassie is blatantly trying to conceal. I’m Miller’s light, but in the same breath, I comprehend fully that he is a certain kind of darkness to me. But it’s irrelevant. There is no me or him; there is only us. ‘Do you understand?’ She stares at me, and Miller remains quiet in the background, allowing me to have my say.

  ‘I understand.’

  I hold her stare for an age, not willing to be the one who backs down. I don’t blink either. Eventually, it’s Cassie who drops her gaze, and with that silent submission, I turn on my bare feet and leave them on the doorstep behind me.

  I’ve nearly made it to the top of the stairs when I hear the front door close. ‘Olivia.’ His placid call of my name tears at my heartstrings and I turn, keeping a steadying grip on the banister. ‘She needs out, too. I’m not leaving her behind. We’ve been stuck in this world together; we’ll be leaving together.’

  ‘Does she want out?’

 
‘Yes,’ he affirms as he steps forward. ‘I can’t see you sad.’

  I shake my head. ‘Impossible.’

  ‘I’ve shut the door. That’s it. It’s just us in here now.’

  ‘But the world is still outside, Miller,’ I say quietly. ‘And we need to open that door and face it.’ I escape, leaving him downstairs in turmoil.

  He needs his thing as much as I do, and I hate myself for depriving us both of it.

  Chapter 11

  Miller didn’t deprive us of our thing. He joined me in bed within minutes and moved in close. I wanted to deny him, to hurt him for hurting me – even if he didn’t do it directly. But I didn’t move away from his delicious heat, my own need for solace outweighing the need to punish him.

  He remained wrapped around my whole body the entire night, limiting my ability to wriggle and fidget, so we woke in the exact same position come morning. We didn’t speak a word while we lay there as the sun rose. I knew he was awake because my hair was being twisted and his lips were pressing into my neck. Then his fingers drifted down my thigh and found me ready and willing for some worshipping. I was taken from behind, our bodies spooned, and there was still no murmur of words, just consistent laboured breathing. It was peaceful. It was calm. And we both came in unison on breathy gasps.

  I was hugged fiercely while Miller bit into my shoulder, jerking within me, then released and pushed to my back before he settled on me. He still didn’t speak and neither did I. My hair was swept from my face and our burning gazes held for an eternity. I think Miller said more through that intense look than he ever could have with words. Not even the elusive I love you would have told me what I saw in his eyes.

  I was captivated.

  I was under his potent spell.

  He was speaking to me.

  After ghosting his lips delicately over mine for a few moments, he peeled himself away from me and went for a shower while I tangled myself in the sheets, thoughtful. His goodbye was a tender kiss in my hair and a drag of his thumb across my bottom lip. Then my phone was swiped from the bedside table and he played with it for a while before placing it in my hand and kissing each of my eyelids before he left. I didn’t question him, letting him leave before I glanced down to find my Internet open on YouTube and Jasmine Thompson on the screen. I pressed Play and listened carefully while she sang “Ain’t Nobody” to me. I lay there for a long time after she’d finished and the room fell back into silence. After finally convincing myself to get up, I showered and spent the morning cleaning the house, listening to the song on repeat.

  Then I went to see Nan. I didn’t protest when I found Ted outside. I didn’t complain when he shadowed me all day. I didn’t bite William’s head off when I found him leaving the hospital on my arrival. I didn’t retaliate when Gregory gave me another ticking off for implicating him in my crimes. And I didn’t ignore any of Miller’s text messages. But I did sag under the wave of disappointment when the consultant visited Nan and told her that she wasn’t being discharged until tomorrow – something to do with sending her home with the right medication. She, of course, kicked up a stink, but not wanting to bear the brunt of a Nan-style tongue-lashing, I kept quiet the whole time.

  Now I’m home, it’s past nine, I’m sitting at the table in the kitchen, and I’m longing for the familiar scent of a hearty, stodgy meal. I can hear the low hum of the television from the lounge, where Ted has set up base, and I’ve heard the frequent sound of his mobile phone before he answers promptly and speaks in a low whisper, no doubt assuring either William or Miller that I’m here and I’m fine. I’ve made him endless cups of tea and chatted idly about nothing in particular. I even gently broached the subject of my mother again and got nothing, only a sideways glance and Ted’s observation that I look just like her. He’s told me nothing that I didn’t already know.

  My phone rings. I look down at the table where it’s laid and raise surprised eyebrows when I see Sylvie’s name flashing up at me.

  ‘Hey,’ I answer, thinking I’ve masked my hopelessness well.

  ‘Hey!’ She sounds out of breath. ‘I’m running for the Tube but wanted to call you as soon as possible.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘A woman came into the bistro earlier asking after you.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Don’t know. She left pretty quick when Del asked who was asking.’

  My back straightens in my chair, my mind racing. ‘What did she look like?’

  ‘Blonde, stunning, very well dressed.’

  My heart catches up with my mind and commences to sprint. ‘Around forty?’

  ‘Late thirties, early forties. Do you know her?’

  ‘Yeah, I know her.’ My palm finds my forehead and my elbow rests on the table. Sophia.

  ‘Rude cow,’ Sylvie spits indignantly, and I huff my agreement, but what the hell is she doing tracking me down?

  ‘What did you tell her?’

  ‘Not much, just that you no longer work at the bistro. Who is she?’

  I take a deep breath and sink back into my chair, injured at Sylvie’s reminder that I no longer have a job. ‘No one important.’

  Sylvie laughs through her exertion – an insulted, disbelieving laugh. ‘Sure,’ she says. ‘Anyway, just thought you should know. I’m at the station so my reception is gonna die any moment. Swing by next week. It would be nice to see you.’

  ‘I will,’ I agree, though there is no mistaking the lack of enthusiasm in my voice. Stupidly, I don’t want to see my replacement handling the coffee machine with precision or delivering the shop’s famous tuna melts.

  ‘Take care, Livy,’ Sylvie says softly, and then cuts the call before I can give my assurance that I will. That reply wouldn’t have been any more convincing than the previous agreement to swing by sometime.

  I go to dial Miller but freeze when an unknown number illuminates my screen. I stare at my phone in my hand for a long, long while, trying to fathom the deep-seated sense of anxiety riddling me, telling me not to answer.

  Of course, I ignore it and go right ahead and connect the call. ‘Hello.’ I sound timid and nervous. I am, yet I don’t want whoever’s on the other end of this call to know that, so when I get no response, I repeat myself, this time clearing my throat and forcing confidence into my tone. ‘Hello?’ There’s nothing, no reply, no sound in the background. I draw breath to speak again, but I catch a familiar sound and end up holding the air that I’ve just inhaled. I hear words. A familiar voice with a foreign accent, all husky and low.

  ‘Miller, darling, you know how I feel about you.’

  I swallow my breath and battle to prevent myself choking on it.

  ‘I know, Sophia.’ Miller’s reply is soft and accepting. It makes me feel nauseous.

  ‘Then why have you been avoiding me?’ she asks, equally as gentle. My mind is quickly building up the scene on the other end of this line. And I really don’t like what I’m picturing.

  ‘I needed a time-out.’

  ‘From me?’

  My bum lifts from the chair until I’m standing, waiting for Miller’s response to that. I hear him sigh, and I definitely hear the chink of glass on glass. He’s pouring a drink. ‘From everything.’

  ‘The other women, I accept. But do not run away from me, Miller. I’m different, yes?’

  ‘Yes,’ he agrees without hesitation. None whatsoever. My body develops the shakes, my heart is pounding in my chest, and my racing mind is making me dizzy.

  ‘I missed you.’

  ‘And I you, Sophia.’

  The bile shoots from my stomach to my throat and an invisible grip wraps around my neck, choking me. I cut the call, not needing to hear any more. I suddenly can’t breathe, overcome by fury. And yet, I’m perfectly calm as I pop my head around the lounge door to find Ted at the window, his suited body relaxed in his standing pose. He’s pretty much been in the same position since we got home.

  ‘I’m going to soak in the bath,’ I tell his back, and he looks over his
shoulder, smiling at me warmly.

  ‘Will do you good,’ he says, returning to face the window.

  I leave him on watch and go upstairs to get dressed. I’m trying to think straight, trying to recall Miller’s words to Sophia, Sophia’s words to me, Miller’s words to me about Sophia. It’s all gone, leaving a mammoth void in my mind to conjure up plenty of other thoughts – none of which I like. I knew she was different, someone to be more wary of. I slip on some skinny jeans and a satin camisole. I avoid my Converse, stepping into my black stilettos instead. A ruffle of my hair to bring out the waves and a dusting of powder finishes me off. Then I grab my purse, creep down the stairs, and wait for my moment to slip out the door unnoticed. My moment comes in the form of a call on Ted’s mobile. He turns his back to the window and starts to pace around the lounge, talking quietly. Letting myself quietly out the door, I set off with absolutely no urgency. The anger is dominating me. So why on earth do I feel so calm?

  The doormen are holding court at the entrance to Ice, armed with their clipboards, causing me an immediate predicament. The moment one of them clocks me, I’ll be reported to Ice HQ and Tony will be in pursuit. I really don’t need that. Resting my back against the wall, I run through my limited options . . . and come up with none. I’m not daft enough to think the doorman won’t recognise me, so aside from a convincing disguise, I’m not getting in that club without warning bells going off.

  My whole being was so full of purpose from the moment I disconnected that call. One obstacle has chased away that fortitude and left a little room for sensibility to take hold. I allow myself to consider the consequences of my intended actions for a moment, and I actually begin to comprehend the danger I’m putting myself in, but then a commotion from across the road snaps me from my deliberating and pulls my attention to the entrance. A group of four men with their girlfriends are all ranting, and the doormen are clearly trying to pacify the rankled group. It doesn’t seem to be working, and my back pushes away from the wall when the scene moves to a whole new level of disturbance. One of the women steps up to a doorman, screaming in his face, and his hands come up in a gesture to suggest she should calm down. His attempt has the opposite effect and within a second, four men are all diving on him. My eyes widen at the chaos unfolding. It’s anarchy. Yet I quickly register that this could be my only opportunity to slip in undetected.