Breaking Joseph

by Lucy V. Morgan

  Matt snorted. “No.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

  Oh. “So…so what’s…”

  “For crying out loud.” Aidan snatched my bags away and dragged me by the arm. “Just get in there, will you? The suspense is killing me!”

  I reached for my purse and he jerked it away. “But my phone–work–”

  “I’ll talk to Will. This won’t take long, okay?” He opened the door. “Now stop arsing about.”

  Aidan’s bedroom was small and uncluttered, all mirrored furniture and black and white canvases. A large lamp soaked the room in glowing shadows and they stuck to the familiar shape on the bed.

  I squinted at him. “Charlie?”

  He rose up from his elbows and nodded at me. “Leila.”

  “Jesus. What happened to your eye?” I marched over and cupped his chin. A plum-stained bruise curved about his left socket. Ouch.

  Charlie eased my hand away gently. “Sit down.”

  I obeyed. “Charlie…why are you here?” The room was warm, and yet goose pimples whirled feverishly along my bare skin.

  “Where to start, eh?” He cocked a nonchalant eyebrow. “I suppose you’ll be wanting the long version?”

  “If you like.”

  He gnawed at his lip; he was as on edge as I was and it unsettled me. “Matt came to see me yesterday. He said…he said that a friend of his was in trouble and he needed some help.”

  “Matt punched you?” Jesus.

  “He needed to find the friend a job, and I knew immediately that he would only ask for you.”

  “He found out that you and I know each other,” I mumbled. “Last week.”

  “So I learned.” He scratched at his nose. “I asked if it was you. He said yes. And then he implied that he knew what had gone on between us, so I apologized.”

  “Oh God.”

  “Only there’s been a mix-up of some sort, Leila.” He twisted to catch me with Velcro eyes. “I told him I was sorry we’d been lovers, and he seemed to think I was paying you for sex.”

  I gulped stale air.

  “It was when I told him about our relationship that he punched me,” Charlie went on, still gazing at me. “And you know, I understand why he did it. I couldn’t have smacked him back. Fucking hurts, mind.” He pressed fingertips to his swollen skin. “But there’s a reason you’ve had to leave Bach and Dagier, isn’t there?”

  I nodded silently.

  “Tell me that it isn’t what I think it is.” It was his turn to go cold. “Tell me it isn’t what Matt implied.”

  His disappointment made my bones ache. He had been cataclysmic in Charlotte’s inception, had sculpted her with those wizened hands–but he had done it for himself. Not for a hundred other men across London.

  “Is it my fault?” he said finally. “Is that what I made you do?”

  “No.” I didn’t want to cry in front of him. I didn’t want to cry at all; I’d done more of that these past weeks than I had in a very long time. “Not like that, I mean.”

  “Because that’s not what you were to me, you know.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  His voice split. “You weren’t a whore.”

  I rubbed my eyes, trying to hide the tears that swarmed there. “I know,” I croaked. “Charlie–”

  “No, no. I don’t want to hear it. What the hell were you thinking? You silly, silly girl!”

  I crumpled into myself, the whimpers as mortifying as the badly suppressed sobs.

  “Well?” he ranted. “What possessed you? Anything could have happened. If you were in trouble, you should have come to me.”

  “It wasn’t for me,” I snapped. “It was for my parents. They were in trouble. And it’s all sorted now, I’m fine–”

  “Fine? You’ve flushed six years of training down the toilet! I had your boss on the phone last week, wanting to know when you started working for me! I thought it was a mix-up with your internship, but now…Jesus.” His cheeks hit his hands with a painful slap. “I honestly didn’t think you were this stupid.”

  The other day, when I was musing over why I never told people about the whoring? This was why.

  “They looked after me,” I said quietly.

  “What, your pimps? That ginger tit out there?”

  I squared my shoulders and blotted my eyes with the back of my hand. “Aidan isn’t a tit.”

  “Yes, he is. And so help me, if I find out that Matt paid you a single penny, I will beat the living daylights out of him.” His fist landed roughly in his palm. “I’ll bloody enjoy it too.”

  “He never paid me.” It was sort of true.

  “He wants you to get away from all this. I agree with him.”

  “What?”

  “Look. I don’t have a job for you, Leila. I can’t pull one out of thin air. But the firm that Matt is going to work for…” He looked me in the eye. “I’ve had a chat with them. They’re willing to take you on.”

  “What? They’re miles away. How did you–”

  “I’ve known one of the partners for a long time. It’s not tax law. You’ll have to specialize in something else. It won’t be a City salary. But it’s a job, and it starts in two weeks.”

  I stared at the wooden floor for a few moments, half expecting a hole to appear and a rabbit to pop up in a hurry.

  I’m late, I’m late…

  “I’ve signed for my flat again, Charlie. I can’t leave London,” I said hoarsely. I didn’t want to leave London, either.

  “Matt seems to think he could put you up for a while.”

  “Oh. God.”

  “They’ll let you qualify there.” He leaned in, the closest he’d dared get to me since I sat down. “You can’t afford not to take this. You know that.”

  “Why’s he being so nice to me?”

  “Because he feels responsible, I imagine.” He sighed. “And he’s a good kid. When he’s not punching people, that is.” He gestured ruefully to his marbled eye.

  “And what about you? After this…why are you being so nice to me?”

  He drew a fingertip down my wet cheek. “Because I am responsible. In a way.”

  I was embarrassed at how much it made me blush. “Don’t be ridiculous, Charlie. I am what I am.”

  “I know, angel.” His thumb brushed my bottom lip. “I know.”

  There was a bang on the door and we sprang apart in a hurry.

  “Is everything all right in there?” Aidan boomed.

  “Fine!” I rolled my eyes at Charlie. “I’ll be out in a moment.”

  “Just checking.”

  I cocked my head toward the door, suddenly dubious. “Did they make you come here?”

  “It does look a bit like I’ve been beaten into submission, doesn’t it? No…I wanted to talk to you, Leila. All this needed sorting out.”

  “Well.” I pressed my lips together. “Thank you.”

  “Not a problem. And if you ever–ever–get into that kind of trouble again, you come to me. Do you understand?”

  I nodded.

  “Good. Now, go and put poor Matthew out of his misery and tell him you’ll accept the offer.” Finally, he smiled, and he was the Charlie I remembered all over again. The one who’d conjured a thousand orgasms and beaten a rainbow of curses from my mouth.

  I wanted to smile back, but the curve wouldn’t form. The idea of working and living with Matt made me ever so slightly queasy. It was all so…neat. “Okay,” I managed, rising.

  “I’m going home to find some strong liquor.” He threw his leather blazer over his arm and followed me out.

  The front door slammed and I stood in front of Matt and Aidan, shifting awkwardly.

  “Well?” Aidan broke into a grin. “Are we brilliant, or are we brilliant?”

  The tears spilled again and then the pair of them were crushing me in a corset of a hug.

  “You’re a ginger tit, apparently,” I bawled.

  “You know, I’ll let him off because he helped out with you.
And he was kind of hot for an old dude.”

  “Aid!” Matt scowled in horror.

  Aidan broke away to hold his hands up. “I can’t help it! Anyway.” He gestured to me and Matt. “You two have things to talk about. I’m getting a shower.”

  “A cold one?” My smile was genuine this time.

  He sniggered. “I’ve had better three-ways, you know.”

  I watched him disappear into the bedroom and it was then that I noticed Matt’s hands still spanning my waist, my fist full of his sweatshirt. It felt organic and uncomfortable at the same time.

  “I’m sorry about Charlie,” I said softly.

  “Yeah. Um.” One hand darted to the back of his head. “That’s why you dumped me, isn’t it? When you figured it out.”

  “Sort of,” I admitted.

  “I would have understood, you know.”

  I stepped away. “You punched him, Matt!”

  “I know.” He was trying to look sober, but his eyes lit up with glee. “That was a bit much, wasn’t it?”

  “Just a bit.” My arms folded themselves, unsure of where else to go.

  “So…you’re coming, then? To Salisbury?” He studied me with child-like hope. How did I refuse him? Charlie was right. I’d be an idiot to turn the offer down.

  “I suppose I am, yeah.” I chewed my lip. “This living with you thing, though. I’m grateful and all…”

  “It’s fine, seriously. Dad and Amy loved you. And Toby–”

  “Toby hates me.”

  “Tobe’s staying in London. I’ll have his room for a bit.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be for long, just until you get everything sorted. But it’s fine, okay?”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  What could I say? I felt so desperately ungrateful, but…God, Salisbury seemed so very far from Clemmie. Aidan.

  And Joseph.

  “I haven’t figured out what I’ll do about Poppy yet,” he grumbled. “Fucking bitch.”

  I shook my head feverishly. “No, no. You can’t, Matt. She’ll know that I told.”

  “I forgot about that.” He offered me his arm and reluctantly, I settled into the crook of it. “I can’t get over the nerve of her, or Isobel. Do you know what their problem is?”

  I gazed up at him. “Go on.”

  “They’re jealous. You were doing this thing that girls aren’t supposed to do, and still doing well for yourself, and they didn’t like it. I hope karma comes and bites them on the arse.” He squeezed me. “Are you going to do anything about them?”

  “What can I do?” I exhaled. “No…I’m just going to keep my head down, I think. Get everything sorted.”

  “I’m having a leaving party tomorrow.” He nudged me. “Will you come?”

  “Yeah. So long as I don’t have to work, I mean,” I added quickly.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Why would you need to work now?”

  Good point. Crap.

  “Yeah. You’re right,” I mumbled. “I’ll…I’ll be there.”

  He pulled his arm free and turned to find his beer on the counter. “It’ll do you good, I think. Getting away from that agency.”

  Oh, will it, now? Mr fucking Fix It. “I suppose so.” I smiled faintly.

  “And I know it’s not really the time to say it, but…you and me, maybe.” He paused to catch my eye. “Maybe?”

  I glanced away, flushing. “If it happens, I suppose.”

  “If it happens.”

  I took the beer bottle he offered me.

  “So…we move in a week,” he said, brightening. “To new beginnings?”

  “New beginnings.” I clinked my beer against his.

  No time to say hello, goodbye…I’m late, I’m late!

  * * * *

  It was gone eleven when I returned home.

  I stared around and tried to envision everything packed in boxes: my bookshelves, baking cupboard, copious photo frames, about thirty pairs of shoes.

  Then I imagined my silky, bronze linen decking out Matt’s beautiful bed. My plush cushions piled high against the pillows, my clothes hanging in his huge wardrobe, my nail polishes lined up neatly next to file stacks on his shelves. I saw my shadow bumping into him on the way back from the shower, still clad in pearls of water and one of my plum purple towels. Gaining three stone from eating Amy’s breakfasts and developing a borderline fetish for brown sauce.

  Then Matt was slinking into the room in the dark, in just his underwear, thinking it silly to text me from another room. Like paper cups on string.

  This claustrophobia seemed childish. We’d spent the evening whooping, teasing and playing Twister. In fact since we decided to remain as friends, we’d been on better terms than ever. We shared the same sense of humour, I could trust him with my secret, he filled out jeans in a very pleasing fashion. Surely Matt was the perfect roommate?

  Except that he loved me. That his words burned with expectation. We had history made of skin and pain and orgasms, and the way his eyes widened when I entered the room made it all impossible to ignore. I was so, so rubbish at resisting the chemical snap of him, I forgot that to touch him was to imply that we belonged.

  Matt had done me a lovely favour, but God, I was so massively obligated, too.

  I sank onto my bed and bashed out a quick email to Clemmie. A pixelated olive branch. I was moving next week, my flat would be empty and paid for…did she want it?

  Then I stared at my pillow, the one that had been indented after the dream of Joseph not so long ago. I wondered if the haunting would follow me to Salisbury.

  I wondered why a girl like me wished to dream of ghosts.

  Chapter 17

  Clemmie hadn’t replied to my email by lunchtime so I comforted myself with an oiled, fragrant bath.

  I’d barely rinsed my hair when the doorbell shrieked, and though I wasn’t expecting anyone, the damn thing kept on ringing.

  “Hold on!” I yelled, struggling to pat myself down before throwing on oversized pyjamas. “I’ll be there in a…one minute…” I tugged the lock open. “Oh. Fuck.”

  Kenji cocked an eyebrow at my flushed, dishevelled state. “Sorry,” he said.

  I stepped from foot to foot, my arms firmly folded. “Um. Can I help you?”

  He took a great breath. “We need to talk,” he said.

  “We do?”

  “Yeah.” His hands writhed in his pockets. “It’s about Elise. And Joe. And–everything. Look. Can I just come in, please?”

  I considered this for longer than was polite, probably, but it was hard not to be dubious. I’d never had Kenji pinned as an aggressor, but he sounded terse and had no reason to be on my side right now.

  “I’m not sure it’s a good idea,” I mumbled.

  “Leila, I’m not going to do anything shitty. I just want to clear a few things up.”

  Reluctantly, I stood aside and he strode in. I nodded at the sofa and he scooped a pile of magazines to the floor so he could sit down.

  I perched on the footstool, peeling the towel from my wet hair. “Well?” I said.

  “I don’t know exactly why you left Bach and Dagier. I know why Joe thought you did, but he can’t prove a thing. Elise is pretty heartbroken either way.”

  “I haven’t stolen anything,” I said quietly. “It was a personal decision not to take the job.”

  “Only here’s the thing.” He meshed his fingers and tapped the knot against his knees. “Last night, at a party…that Poppy girl was pretty drunk. The one who took your job, that is.”

  Oh fuck. Fuck.

  “Right…”

  “Elise was upset again because it was supposed to be your party. You know what she’s like, Leila. She had a couple cocktails and started confiding in everyone.” He stared at me. “Poppy took great pleasure in telling her that you left because you’re a prostitute.”

  I gazed at the floor again, waiting for the rabbit. I’d kept my part of the deal. Poppy wasn’t supposed to tell.

  “I would’ve though
t she was talking shit, but hey.” An awkward laugh. “You know Joe’s history. And so does Elise. Jesus, Leila. She doesn’t want to think that’s what you are after what you did with her.”

  “I really liked Elise. I’ve never…I mean…” I gestured helplessly. “I don’t really see how this is any of your business.”

  “Are you admitting it, then? Are you fucking people for money? Joe wouldn’t talk about it. Figures, huh?”

  I glared at him. “I think you ought to leave.”

  “So that’s it, then.” He rose. “You know what? I love her. I love her and she’s in pieces, thinking that you did it because that’s just what you do. She liked you. It was bad enough when she thought you were taking all the case details somewhere else but she really, really trusted you!”

  “I’ve done nothing wrong! Do you think I chose all this?” I shouted before I could help myself. I was so sick of losing friends over this–at the rate I was going, I’d have nothing left. “Joe won’t talk to you because he doesn’t know anything. I wasn’t allowed to tell him and I’m not about to tell you!”

  His black eyebrows sank together in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

  “You know nothing about me,” I snapped. “Maybe you should be asking why Poppy was announcing that kind of thing in the first place. Why she enjoyed it so fucking much.” My teeth sank down to stem my lip from trembling. “She’s not supposed to tell anyone. She broke the deal…”

  “What deal?” He glanced about and then sat down again, his shoulders hunched. “Did…did somebody make you leave?”

  A deep breath did little to quash dancing nerves. “What do you think?”

  “I think I can’t do anything unless you stop talking in riddles.”

  “It doesn’t matter now,” I muttered. “I found another job. I’m leaving in a week. The damage has been done, hasn’t it?”

  Inside, his thoughts were racing and blending. Almond-shaped eyes narrowed with it. “Does Joe know?”

  “That I’m leaving? Can’t see how he would.”

  “No. That somebody made you quit, Leila.” He grimaced. “Because if he doesn’t, I think he deserves to.”

  “Yeah, well.” I wrung the towel in my hands. “I’m really not supposed to be talking about this, okay? It could fuck everything up.”