Steps quickening, I soon got to the front door, unlocked it, hauled it open-
"Oh. It’s you."
"Piper." That disapproving tone again, making me feel as if I’d done something wrong. "Is that any way to greet your boyfriend?"
"Ex-boyfriend."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Andrew shrugged. "Aren’t you gonna invite me in?"
"I didn’t exactly invite you to my front door, did I?"
"Oh, you know what I mean. Now I’m here."
"You didn’t think of phoning first?"
"Ah, but you could have ignored my calls."
"And if I had, what would that have told you?"
He sighed heavily, looking surprisingly childlike. He wore a red fleece jacket with the hood down, jeans and trainers. The uniform of a youth a decade younger than his twenty-five years. "As I’m here..."
"What do you want?"
"I believe I left some things here."
"Such as?"
Another shrug. "CDs. Couple of books. Nothing important, but..." He took a step back as if leaving, or considering doing so.
"Oh, fine, fine, come in. And be quick about it."
"Charming." He stepped across the threshold and I shut the door behind him. "It’s not that late."
"No, it isn’t, but..."
"Expecting someone?" he asked, the hint of a sneer in his voice.
Instant denial might be a bad idea; better to let him think someone was due round so he wouldn’t hang about long. Then again he might be curious about my mysterious (non-existent) visitor. "What did you leave here anyway? Your Judy Garland CDs and penis pump, wasn’t it?"
"Can’t we be civil about this?"
"Oh all right then, if you insist. Not that that’s any fun. Go on, you know where the living room is."
"How do you know I didn’t leave any of my gear in the bedroom?" He raised his eyebrows and a half smile touched his lips. Briefly I wondered if this was his attempt at making himself attractive.
Was he... was he flirting?
A shudder tickled at the small of my back, threatening to ripple my spine but I shifted, managed to shake it down. "There’s nothing of yours in that room, believe me, Andrew." Trying to convince myself he wouldn’t do anything, especially given our exchange the night we’d finished, I followed him to the living room, hovered in the doorway, waited for him to say something, do something, break the awkward silence.
He stood in the middle of my living room with his back to me, looking around the place as if all was new, as if he hadn’t been here a thousand times before.
As I watched him, it struck me; this had always been my place. Andrew’s had always been his. We’d never considered moving in together. At least I hadn’t. Of course I’d loved him in my own way; I wouldn’t have stayed with him otherwise, but I suppose in the back of my mind I’d never seen it as permanent, heading in the direction of being a true, unified couple.
Damn it, was Andrew a placeholder boyfriend all along? I straightened, no longer leaning on the door frame. Was I that desperate for male company I was willing to stay with a guy I could never commit to, just until something better came along?
No, no, I reasoned. I finished with Andrew before I went with Gray.
Or even met Leo.
"Shit." I uncrossed my arms and Andrew spun round on his heels.
"What?"
"Nothing, nothing." Don’t think of Leo, I told myself, but it was as futile as that old saying, don’t think of a pink elephant. One’s brain never heard the ‘don’t’, filtering it out, jumping straight to the noun and fixating.
Leo, Leo, Leo.
"I left my Schadenfreude CDs here," he said.
"You know where I keep everything. Just take them." They weren’t all his, but if that was what it took to make him leave, then fair enough. I’d buy replacements. Andrew was more of a fan than I was anyway; I suspected he only followed them because he fancied the lead singer. Not that he stood a chance; she had been banging the bassist from the moment she joined the band, or so the gossip columnists would have the fans believe.
He liked to spread the tale of how he’d met her, Elena Something-or-other, backstage at one of their gigs and had a mild flirtation. The truth was probably closer to a drunken come-on and a hastily glossed-over knockback. A dinner-party tale with arms and legs added until it became an urban myth which bore no resemblance to the events which had inspired it, knowing Andrew Kincaid.
He remained in the middle of the room, failed to head to the glass-fronted cabinet where I kept all my CDs and DVDs. He cocked his head, his lips thinning as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.
"Well?" I prompted, feeling as if I was doing all the work here. If, for the duration of his time here, conversation was like pulling teeth, I’d go mad.
Of course, the simple solution would be not to have a conversation at all; shove the damn CDs into his arms and bundle him out the door but he looked as if he wanted to say something, and judging from his furrowed brow, thinned lips and set jaw, it wasn’t a declaration of love. Anything else I could deal with. But not that.
"Who was that guy on the phone?"
"Ha!" The word, the sound, burst out of me and a smirk worked its way onto my face despite my inner turmoil over Andrew...and Leo. "That’s what this is about," I murmured, avoiding Andrew’s gaze.
"Are you seeing him now?"
"No," I said, rather too quickly. Even I was aware I could be seen to ‘protest too much’. "Well..." I shrugged. "It’s..."
"It’s...?"
"It’s none of your business, is what it is." I didn’t want to talk about Leo now. Discussing such a man as him with such a man as this seemed sacrilegious.
"Come on, Piper. The way that guy spoke to me; he was obviously getting territorial. Something’s going on between you. Is it?"
I took a deep breath, prepared to say yes. Prepared to say no. Prepared to tell him it was not his concern. "Andrew. You’d been pestering me with text messages and voicemails. I didn’t want to speak to you."
"Way to make a guy feel wanted."
If you were wanted I wouldn’t have finished with you, would I? "He took the phone off me. He was sticking up for me."
"Defending your honor?" he sneered, and revulsion coiled in my stomach at the sound. There was something repellent in the way he looked at me; upper lip curled as if there was a bad smell under his nose. As if he hated me. Dislike I could have understood, hurt even, but hatred? Didn’t make sense.
"I didn’t..." I began, but faltered at the expression on Andrew’s face.
"Go on."
"I didn’t want to rub your face in it—"
"No? Really? I must say, Pipes, you’ve got a damn funny way of showing that then, getting your boyfriend to call me up and—"
"He is not my boyfriend!"
"Aw, what’s wrong, did he dump you?"
"No, there was never anything going on between us in the first place, just a... a... thing." I shrugged, helplessly, wondering why I was suddenly so defensive.
"Define ‘thing’."
"I don’t have to."
"Oh yes you do, Pipes." He took a step forward and I took one back, my spinal fluid instantly turning to ice water. "You owe me that at least. The truth."
Fear mingled with anger flared up. "We’re over; how many times do I need to tell you? Sure, you’re pissed off, you’ve got a right to be—"
"Oh thank you so much, Princess, but let’s get one thing clear, you’re not worth it—"
"No? Then why have you been pestering me with texts, voicemails, phone calls—"
"You’re—"
"Even coming round to my flat uninvited—"
"You never used to object!"
"Because we were a couple then! And we are not any longer." I spoke through gritted teeth, insanely irritated by him but still cautious, wondering if my ire would increase his, drive him to threats or violence.
"So you got a one night stand to call me u
p and—"
"No; he chose to," I pointed out, deciding my cowering from Andrew was exactly what he wanted. I took one step towards him. Another. Spoke again. "See, I was pissed off at the amount of times you’d been calling. Couldn’t see how to get it through your thick skull that I didn’t want to see you again because you’re nothing more than a selfish, insecure bastard."
"There are other women who’d disagree with that, love."
"Good for them. I have higher standards. Which is why I went with Leo, and why he chose to phone you to get you the hell off our backs."
"Oh, Leo is it? You actually caught this one’s name?"
Inside I faltered, hoped it hadn’t shown on the outside, that I hadn’t juddered or given any outward sign of my discomfiture.
Judging by the twisted smile on Andrew’s lips, I had.
"Christ, Andrew—you’re really beginning to annoy me now. If you hate me as much as you seem to, then why on Earth you’d want to even speak to me I don’t know. God, I am so tired of this. Just pick up your damn CDs and have done with it." The way he stared made my heart skip and not in a good way. Not in the way Leo did. Oh for God’s sake Piper Holt, stop thinking about him.
"Actually, no, you’re right. I should go."
I perked up when he said that, surprised at his switch. "Oh?"
He reached into his jacket, fumbled around, presumably in an inside pocket and withdrew something concealed within a closed fist. "I didn’t come here for the CDs at all. They don’t matter. They’re only... things. I came to give you this."
I eyed his outstretched arm, not wanting to reach out to him in turn. To do so would be seen as some sort of compromise and I didn’t want to meet him halfway on anything, even something as trivial as this, taking something from him. Acceptance, both of a gift and him, was not on the menu. "What is it?" My gaze flicked up from his hand to his face, and he sighed so heavily it was almost a groan.
"For God’s sake, why do women always say that?" His arm relaxed and hung at his side once more, though his fist remained clenched around whatever it held.
"Probably because very few of us trust you," I pointed out. "You come up to my house uninvited, insult me and my..." My what? What the hell was Leo Carson to me, when all was said and done? "My acquaintances of whom you know nothing, and expect me to accept a...what? Gift? Offering?"
"Okay then. I’ll leave it here. You can look at it later." He reached past me, dropped something on the coffee table and automatically my head turned to see what it was.
A thumb drive. Something to do with computers?
When I looked again at Andrew that smile was back. Triumphant in his ability to command my attention for even a second as he tossed a simple thumb drive onto my coffee table.
And I’d felt vulnerable, with my body twisted away from him, exposing my neck as I’d looked down. I shivered, as I contemplated what he might do next, dismissing the thought he’d grab my neck or...
But then when we’d split, I hadn’t thought he’d ball a fist until he’d done it, had I? Hadn’t believed he could be so impulsive, harbor such contempt.
"I’ll see myself out." And that was all he said before heading for the doorway, walking down the hall, opening the front door and...leaving.
My gaze followed him as he went through the motions, wondering what the joke was, when he would turn around and let rip, but no. The door slammed shut behind him and the noise shook me out of my dazed mood.
As if I’d just woken up, I rubbed my eyes and looked around. Still the same old living room, the same old familiar surroundings. "What the hell was that all about?"
And then it caught my eye. The thumb drive.
I grabbed my laptop bag from where I stored it by the side of the settee, practically ripped it out of its casing, plugged it in to save battery power and switched it on.
Then stopped. Looked over my shoulder, down the hallway at the front door, half expecting Andrew to be standing there, laughing, having seen me jump to it, still under his control, dancing to his tune.
But of course he wasn’t there. The door hadn’t opened behind me; the floorboards hadn’t creaked under his footsteps.
I had to make sure. I had to lock the door behind him, to keep him out.
Turning the key in the lock, I breathed a heavy sigh of relief, silently berating myself for even letting him across the threshold in the first place. It was only then I realized how truly relieved I was at having come to no harm.
A cool wave washed over me and I started to shake. Just to set my mind at rest I peeped through the spy hole but there was no one there. No Andrew, no nothing.
Both hands braced against the door, images of another time flashed through my mind. Leo. Again. Up against the door, pulling at his belt buckle-
"Jesus, Piper!" I shook my head before cocking it to one side, listening. No sound throughout my flat. Andrew hadn’t sneaked back in, planted himself somewhere...
"You’re paranoid, bitch."
Silence.
Broken by a vague tinkling, like bells, but more electronic.
I nearly jumped out of my skin but again, that coolness of relief washed over me. Nothing more sinister than the laptop in the living room booting up, playing its few notes of announcement.
Forcing out laughter to convince myself there was nothing wrong, I returned to the settee, waited for everything to boot up; MSN, Google chat, my email program...none of them moved fast enough for my liking. I had to know what was on this thumb drive Andrew had left me now it was safe to check. He’d left me to it, so I could afford to react in any way I saw fit.
My email alert beeped but I ignored it, instead choosing to plug in the pen drive and see what Andrew was so keen to pass on.
"Come on, come on..." With the laptop on the settee cushion at my side, I tapped my foot, impatient to get this over and done with. If it was anything to do with Andrew Kincaid it was likely to be something embarrassing or...
"Oh God..." My hands flew to my face while my laptop whirred and beeped, reading the removable drive. "He’s going to blackmail me..." No, don’t be stupid, Piper Holt. Even Andrew wouldn’t stoop that low... would he?
I searched my memory, ignoring the computer’s for a moment, for any times we had taken intimate photographs of each other, wondered what had been done with them. Would Andrew seriously threaten to show someone else photos of a woman he’d slept with?
I lifted my hands away from my face. Slowly. Scared of what I might see.
No, not photos of me.
But Andrew featured heavily.
Clothes didn’t.
"Uh...nice," I muttered to the empty room, peering at the computer screen and the thumbnails of all the snapshots thereon. "Andrew Kincaid, classy as ever." Why on Earth he thought I’d want to see photos of him in a state of undress, I couldn’t fathom. But still I couldn’t stop myself scrolling down to see the other thumbnails, in case there was something of interest in the folder. Andrew, naked, certainly wasn’t. I’d seen all that before and if I never saw his useless cock again it’d be too—
"What the...?" A familiar face in amongst the rogue’s gallery leapt out at me. A face grinning in hilarity, desire, drunkenness, who knew? I tried to say her name out loud, but all I could utter was a helpless, questioning whisper. "Marie?"
Saying the name nearly choked me. It was Marie in the photos with Andrew, holding a glass of wine up, saluting the camera, shoulders bare, probably naked from the waist up although I couldn’t see... naked from the waist down too, for all I knew... back turned, again, naked, hair cascading down her back... another shot from the back, looking over her shoulder at Andrew, I presumed, winking at the camera... winking, as if she had not a care in the world... and others of them together, grinning at the camera, Marie looking more than a little bleary eyed, Andrew, too, although I wondered if he’d planned this, gotten her drunk, suggested getting his mobile phone out... was this all about me? Or had they had a genuine fling?
Were t
hey having an affair? Had it started before I’d finished with Andrew? Was the reason he’d taken the split so badly not that he was in love with me still—if he ever had been—but that his pride was hurt; he’d missed the opportunity to get in there first?
I’d expected Andrew to jump into bed with someone else pretty soon, or at least braced myself for a mountain of ‘don’t give a damn’ if word reached me that he had, but not this. Not this.
With...with Marie? What the hell had she been thinking? And what had he, sending me photographs of their night together?
I didn’t know what hurt most; Marie’s presence in these tawdry shots, or the fact Andrew had felt he’d achieve something by sending them.
Remove the thumb drive. Bin it. No. Delete every shot first and then bend it all out of shape so you won’t be tempted to look again.
Certain brands of thumb drives were practically indestructible so deleting the contents of this one would be wise. I could bend it, take a hammer to it, hell, even douse it with petrol and set it on fire and if the remains were sat at the bottom of my bin, I’d still be tempted to fish it out and have another look if the files were still on it when I removed it from my laptop’s USB port.
My lack of panic, anger, incandescent rage frightened me. I was dismayed. Surprised. Queasy, even. But none of these were strong emotions. Where was the passion? The lack of control? Why wasn’t I crying?
Didn’t I care?
Before I could change my mind or make copies, I hit CTRL-A and DELETE, then the off button on the laptop without shutting down properly, ripped out the thumb drive and threw it in the bin. No need to hammer it or run it through a mangle if the data had been deleted.
"Shit." I’d forgotten the email I’d received before plugging in the damn drive with all those photos on it. I hit the on button again. Waited.
Nothing.
Again.
Eventually the whirring started and an error message flashed up on screen.
I tried unplugging the laptop and running it off the battery, switching it off, removing and replacing the battery, but nothing worked. As the minutes passed, the cold shiver of concern in the pit of my stomach grew into panic.
Somehow something had affected my computer and I hoped it wasn’t a virus, but it certainly looked that way.
Long Time Coming Page 18
