by Sorell Oates
Tensely, Rupert gave his name. His slim frame seemed stiff and ungainly.
“Everything okay?” Susan couldn't help her genuine concern.
“It is now. While this isn't the strictest dress code, I wasn't sure I'd be let in.”
“Seriously?”
“I just read 'no tie required' and dressed as I pleased.”
“You look dandy. Did I say that already?” she asked batting her eye-lids.
“No. Thank you, though. Am I tastier than the menu?” he asked, flipping through the pages of one.
He is phenomenally handsome, but my God sometimes he knows it, thought Susan. I think he genuinely believes this dinner will smooth everything over. I bet he's even planned on taking me home. If he wants dessert, he'll be ordering off it menu. There will be no sugar from me tonight.
“Sadly with my current appetite, no.”
Selecting from the French cuisines with an Asian twist made for an array of interesting dishes. The talk at their table was shallow and surface.
“This new show of yours then. Is it going to be good?”
“Rekindling Love. It's fantastic. Will you come?”
“Only if I'm welcome.”
“Rupert. Everyone needs to put the past behind them at some point. I spent years carrying extra weight. That was a drain physically. Now I've shed the pounds I don't want to load my weary shoulders with emotional baggage from teenage traumas that happened eons ago.”
Susan almost believed her own spiel.
“You've had a change of heart.”
“No, you did. When you sorted out your harem. How did it go by the way?”
“Liz took it badly. It was awful. I can't believe how I'd misread the signs. Jacqui was alright. She knew it was casual. Not sure if she'll be turning up at any more of our work functions. Hopefully she'll steer clear, because that'll be a hard situation for me to walk into. Jacqui’s sister is Judy, my personal assistant, and she is hating me at the moment. I can barely get her to perform the simplest tasks and I don't feel I can discipline her.”
Susan couldn't help giggling. “Is it mistyped letters and not putting through phone calls?”
“All that and more. Changes to my calendar making me late for meetings, but nothing I can pin on her as deliberate. She's clever.”
“You deserve it.”
“Probably, but what gets me is of everyone Jacqui, was the most blasé about me explaining the 'relationships'. It's her sister that's taken umbrage. It's been a hard couple of days, I'm telling you.”
“What about Jasmine, the gym junkie?”
“She wasn't pleased. And you can sit there smirking, but she knew exactly what initiated the change of affairs. Keep an eye for a knife in your back next time you're on the rowing machine. Mikaylah was outrageous. She went from screaming and ranting, to crying and proclaiming her undying love. I was getting drunk dialed. She tried to get into the building where my apartment is. I found her terrorizing the doormen last night. Mikaylah's young. Early twenties. She parties hard. She was definitely on something, because she was exceedingly violent and aggressive. It was ugly. Security wanted to call the police; I insisted on an ambulance. I stayed with her, but she's pretty hard-core with the clubbing and takes a lot of illegal substances to get her through her nine to five job. After they sedated her, I talked about funding her rehab but the offer set her off onto the misguided pursuit of true love and me.”
“That's not so funny. How'd you leave it?”
“I thought about what I'd want someone to do if Imogen was in the same situation. It was a tough call to make, but I rang her parents. Filled them in on their daughter and her habits. Explained my infrequent hookups and said if they needed any financial assistance to call me.”
“Those are the actions of a caring friend.”
“I think what makes a good friend is taking the time to get to know the person whose company you enjoy. Learn what you can about them to understand them. I didn't do that. I clicked with them and let nature run its course. I was completely in the moment, which a lot of Eastern philosophies claim is Zen, but I think knowing someone's past can make you a better friend. I'm not sure about love at first sight. I think you have to invest time in a person to love them. I thought I did love in my way, but it was an affection. It couldn't be true love because I didn't know Liz was a weeping willow; I had no idea Jasmine was a vindictive bitch; I didn't have a clue that Jacqui's sister, my PA, was a psycho—they’re twins how different can they be?— and I had no notion that Mikaylah had serious problems.”
Why does he have to mean what he's saying? wondered Susan. Why sit there as though he's learned something or has a modicum of self-awareness? Why look at me as though my approval might mean something to him?
“Something virtuous came out of it then. A lesson was learned.”
“True. My flat is so empty though.”
Cynicism crept into Susan's mind. I knew it was only a matter of time before the real Rupert came out. He's got all the right words to perform as a romantic lead. Mr. Locke-Smythe is nothing more than a repressed actor at heart.
Pleased her assumptions about Rupert were right, Susan sipped her champagne feeling less guilty about her devious plan.
“Are you seeking company then, Rupert?”
“Not in the way you're thinking. I kind of miss Imogen, if I'm honest. She was always at my flat. It seems now she's always at Hank's.”
It was not the response Susan was hoping for. Rupert Locke-Smythe gets lonely for company. Rupert actually has strong feelings for someone other than himself. Did I ever see a sign of that at high school? Pushing her shrimp salad around her plate, she tried thinking of the past, thinking of the hurt and pain of catching Rupert and Nikki.
“The food not up to scratch?”
“Sorry, the food is divine. I was lost in thought. Thinking of you in your empty flat. I feel the same. My cast-mates, the lead roles from the London production, were all imported and we live on the same block, but settling in with a new cast and crew is unsettling and unfamiliar. In London we all knew each other. I know the same will happen here, but that bond takes time to develop. I feel lonely too.”
“Perhaps we're old conservatives like our teachers back at Brighton College, who we thought were mundane and banal with their family units, family homes and family activities. God, I thought them so boring. Thinking what an unrewarding life they had. You'd think with billions in the bank and a flourishing career in law, my lifestyle would easily surpass anyone on a teacher's salary, but I'm not sure. Without Imogen there's a real void in life.”
“I never realized how close you two were. I didn't know you'd traveled out here together.”
“Yeah. I couldn't leave her behind. She's my best friend. Plus, no one takes better care of her than me.”
“Not even Hank?”
Rupert took his napkin to dab his mouth. Scratching his chin, Susan was drawn to the stubble on his jaw-line that accentuated his masculinity.
“If he makes her happy, as an American football star, I can't say no. He's built like a brick wall. I'd never have pictured her for falling like someone like him.”
“He's not good-looking enough?”
“Let's face it. He's no stunner. She could have her pick of any man. Yet it's him she's spending her time with.”
“Maybe she loves him.”
“Maybe she does. She habitually sees beyond the surface of people. I trust her instinct about people. I wish I could convince her to join the family firm, because that ability is a great asset to any legal firm, but she's happy doing what she does at the embassy.”
“You're hoping she'll break up with Hank.”
Rupert studied Susan.
“No I'm not. I want what's right for Imogen. If Hank can provide her with love and happiness, it's all I want for her. I want her to have a family. I want her and Hank to love each other like our mum and dad did – through the toughest of trials. I want them to have children to be loved as we we
re. If he can furnish her with all that, I'll be content. It's not like I'll ever stop being her brother, but I have to accept I won't always be the main man in her life.”
“Rupert, why is family so important to you? It's like you invest every ounce of energy in your family and you have none left for anyone outside the Locke-Smythes. You're a hard shell to crack. Those girls never stood a chance of getting a place in your heart.”
With that in mind, I'm going to have my work cut out getting you to fall in love with me in the next ten days, thought Susan.
“I had younger brothers. Twins. Lucas and Leith. I was three when they were born. I absolutely adored them. When I was six, our dad took the family to an island. It was the kind you see in the brochures. White sand, crystal clear waters, palm trees and almost no inhabitants. Except we'd have staff during the days to help with the cooking, driving us round the island and stuff. My mum was ill one day. Nothing serious. Nothing more than a tummy bug. Dad was too devoted to her. He couldn’t stop himself from fussing. Inevitably, he set off to check on her and asked our babysitter to drive us round the island in the safari jeep to keep us occupied. The three of us jumped in the open back of the vehicle while she took the steering wheel in the cabin. I never saw the clouds coming. I vaguely remember the sky darkening. I got frightened by the rain and thunder and lightning. Lucas and Leith were screaming and crying. We didn't know the strange lady driving us. I threw a massive tantrum, insisting she take a shortcut through the middle of the island to get us to the cabin.”
Please don't say it, please don't say it, prayed Susan.
“The pressure of working for a billionaire and babysitting their brats, she sped up at my demand. The island wasn't developed. There were no roads. It was advertised as a paradise, a hide-away. It was so small, driving round the perimeter of the island on the sand was safe and convenient. I thought the safest thing was getting the twins home to mum and dad as soon as possible. I kept punching the glass screaming at her to hurry. She turned to look at me. She couldn't speak English well. I don't think she understood what I was saying. She looked back to see my face to try and understand my screaming and hit a rock. It was a light vehicle. It went sailing through the air. Mum and dad said they could hear the thud as it landed.”
“Rupert,” reaching for his hand to offer comfort; his retraction was stinging to Susan.
“The driver. She climbed out quickly, but not in time. I realized the only person screaming and crying was me. I couldn't hear Lucas and Leith. I just saw their bodies twisted and skewed. Unmoving. I remember she was black. I'd never been around black people. She was talking to me, calming me, soothing me with words I couldn't comprehend. She held me to her breast. I remember being surprised her skin was soft. My ignorant child's mind assumed it would be different because of the color. She held me so close. Her arms comforted me. They prevented me moving. I was cradled into her. I realize now, her firmness was because she didn't want me able to see the broken, dead twins. I howled. They said I howled. Wolves howl the loudest when a close companion is taken from them. My boys were gone. My baby brothers. Gone. When mum and dad eventually arrived, the woman was clutching me so tight they had to wrench me from her arms. But you see, she had no pulse. She'd climbed out of the car to protect me, not knowing her skull was fractured. I could see it as my dad lifted me. Her head had cracked open. Something had bled in her brain causing her to die. She died trying to make my life easier, when I'd made her final few minutes hell. After being so horrible to that poor woman, who had children of her own to hold and care for on a nearby island, in that state she prioritized me. To stop me seeing the toddlers. She was lightning fast out, because I saw them for perhaps a fraction of a millisecond. That glimpse was all I needed to brand it on my brain. The image is seared on there.”
It was as if Rupert and Susie were the only two people in the popular Michelin star restaurant. The curvy room had Rupert's head spinning and Susan felt dizzy too.
“Susie, I need to go.” Red-eyed, Rupert's chest was heaving and his breath ragged. He was hanging onto his composure by a thread.
“If you're going, I'm coming too.”
Robotically, Rupert stood and mechanically walked out of the restaurant and hotel without looking back for Susie. Susan threw down a handful of notes to cover the bill and ran to catch him and guide him home. Unable to say a word, it was Susan crying on his behalf. As a woman it was socially acceptable. Feeling his pain she broke down, her body racking in sobs, her make-up smeared by tears. She was surprised to find Rupert's flat was at the end of Broadway, not too far from her own.
Entering the elevator, silence descending, Susan braved breaking the ambiance. “Do you want to stop in on Imogen? Talk to her or even just sit with her?”
“No.”
The monosyllabic answer and frostiness were hard for her already broken heart to hear. Entering his front door, he went straight to the drinks cabinet to pour a scotch.
“Help yourself,” he said.
“I could call Imogen,” said Susan, feeling hopeless.
“Spend some time with her while I still can? No. I don't think so. Go. I was going to apologize for ruining your life, but now I think about it – you have a life Susie. I'm sorry I got it wrong at school. You've got your Broadway success. You'll get everything else you want out of life. My being an asshole has had no impact long-term, but if I hurt you or damaged you in any way, I do apologize. Just leave now. You've got your apology. We're done.”
CHAPTER 12
Rupert's hand dropped from the bed, feeling around the floor. Locating the bottle of Scotch he went to lift it.
“No!”
Fluttering his eyelids, he saw his sister sitting cross-legged at the end of the bed like an angry goblin, dressed in a Thai satin nightie with her infamous cow slippers. The absurd slippers would make it arduous for him to take his verbal beating seriously. To stop from laughing, he scanned the room. Imogen was right. The house might be clean and minimalistic, but the gray bedroom was as soulless as his living room. The king-size bed was mounted to a white headboard, secured against charcoal walls. The chest of drawers was white and his built-in wardrobe was in a separate room. The deep gray one-meter square tiles made the place feel as though it were a prison.
“No more drinking. Not spirits and not on your own.”
“What day is it?”
“Thursday.”
He shut his eyes, hoping the darkness would block the thumping pain in his head.
“There's water and aspirin on the bedside table.”
“Thanks.”
“Don't thank me. Thank Susan.”
“Why?”
“Because she called me to scoot over here, because you ousted her from the house. She shot over to the twenty-four hour chemist to make sure you had something to help with the hangover.”
“Thanks, Susie.”
“I love you, Rupert, but you can be a selfish git.”
“What time is it?”
“1:30 p.m.”
“No work for me today.”
“No, Rupert. You've definitely got the day off.”
“The joys of being a Company Director.”
“Indeed. Sadly a coveted position I don't hold at the embassy.”
“Are you on your lunch break?”
“No, I've been here since you passed out last night. Susan kept me company. She had rehearsals this morning. I have no idea what her vocals will be like today, poor lamb.”
“She's not a poor lamb. She's out for revenge.”
“Rupert that's an awful thing to say. That's not in Susan's nature. You take that back.”
“Or what?”
Her hand fixed on his big toe. She yanked and twisted it as violently as she could.
“Ouch, alright I take it back. I'm in no mood for sibling games. You're thirty, Imogen. I don't need physical pain for you to get your own way.”
“It's not about me getting my own way. It's about you pulling your head in and se
eing what's in front of you.”
“If you're talking ‘bout Susie, I see her very clearly and I know her games. First, she interrupts my life to remove every decent woman and potential partner from it. Then last night she starts— “
“She starts what?”
She started nothing, thought Rupert. The only one who started anything was me. What possessed me to confide in her about Lucas and Leith? I've never even told Imogen that story. What was I thinking, confiding in a woman who has done nothing but cause me trouble since she arrived? I've been begging like a dog for her company and for what? To break down in public so she can make a fool out of me like I did her? Giving away any information on me is giving her ammunition. I've got enough on my conscience without a seductive temptress trying to tear my heart in half as well.
