He threw a hand over his shoulder. “On a scale of one to fucked, one is way back there!”
“I wish it was that simple.” I tried laughing. I sounded like a bleating lamb.
“Did you make out with Lise because you wanted to, or for something else?”
I felt pink bloom along my cheekbones. “I wanted to,” I murmured. “There was nothing in it but that.”
“But you were taking money. From some people,” he said carefully. “Is that true?”
“I still don’t see that it’s any of your business.”
“But if you were. Would Joe…would he have known about your, erm, other job?”
“I’ll let you be the judge of that.”
He sat back, watching me for a single blink. “You were blackmailed, weren’t you?”
“Maybe,” I muttered.
We sat in silence. He didn’t know what to make of me, the prim lawyer turned call girl who was breaking before his eyes, and there were a hundred questions he was too polite to ask.
“I really think you ought to go now,” I said eventually.
“That’s all?”
“Yeah.” I got to my feet and gestured to the door. “That’s all.” I shuffled along behind him in my huge pyjamas. “Will you tell Elise that I’m sorry?”
“I will.” He clawed at his chin. “I don’t know how I’m going to explain any of it, though.”
“I’m meant to keep it all a secret. It’s part of the deal I made,” I said forlornly. “Please don’t tell anyone?”
“Joe would have expected you to go to him.”
“I couldn’t. I wasn’t–” I lowered my eyes. “I’d rather be his regret than his disappointment.”
He looked back at me as he walked down the hall. “Congratulations,” he called. “You got both in one.”
* * * *
Will rang later that afternoon to book me in. He was sweet as anything about Salisbury and I wanted so badly to squish him into a hug.
“I was expecting this, you know,” he said warmly.
“I’ll go on until Thursday,” I insisted. “I want to cover the cost of the photos at least. I’m sorry for messing you about like this.”
“Don’t be so pathetic, you wet bitch. Now where shall I send the car?”
I wasn’t due at the hotel until midnight. By eight, I was slathered in a wrap dress and strolling around to Matt’s flat. Today had, on Kenji’s scale of one to fucked, teetered depressingly toward the wrong end. I couldn’t even drink my nerves away–I had a date with Frustrated from Abu Dhabi and needed to perform without passing out–so would have to rely on the company of good friends.
“Lei-Lei! Look at you, you trollop. It’s a house party, not a coke-fuelled gang bang.”
Like Aidan.
“Are the shoes too much?” I wore the Louboutins Joseph had given me. Their red soles just weren’t made to languish in the wardrobe; they longed to escape and paint the town.
He stood aside as I tottered in. “It’s the cleavage. And the porn hair.” He twisted a stray curl around his finger. “You know a girl has too much time on her hands when she’s cracked out the granny rollers.”
“You.” I prodded his chest. “Can sod off.”
I hadn’t been in Matt’s flat since my disastrous visit after seducing Isobel. He’d always visited me so I could avoid the disapproving glares from Toby. Now despite the fuzzy guitar music and the maze of bodies sprawled out through the rooms, I was reminded of shadows under TV light and a cold spoon tumbling into my lap.
Oh God, everyone was in jeans. I should have worn the pair I bought in New York–I was so proud of myself for branching out from Fuck Me Clothes.
“Leila. Hey.” Matt beckoned me over in the kitchen area, holding out an arm. “You remember these guys, yeah?”
Greg, Johnny and Eton, his rugby buddies, eyed me over their beer bottles, and I nodded soberly.
“I remember.”
“D’you want a drink?” he asked.
“Please. Something that won’t get me drunk.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Greg said, pretending to scowl. “Have some gin. We’ve got about three bottles, for some reason.”
“It was all I could find in my Dad’s cupboard.” Eton sighed.
“That,” said Johnny, “is because he’s a homo.”
Aidan sniggered as he stumbled through. “He’s only a homo if there was Advocat!”
I took a glass of orange juice from Matt and sniffed it in suspicion.
“Like I’d do that,” he said, looking wounded.
“Evil boy, out to poison me.”
“I am not!”
“Matthew!” Two preppy-looking lads and a pretty blond girl appeared beside me. “No wonder you’re moving. This flat’s a dump.”
“Cheers.” Matt laughed, clapping the ginger guy on the shoulder. He was about to introduce them and then we exchanged glances; they were from Bach and Dagier.
The girl, with her full curls and fuller shirt, I guessed was Sabine.
“Come on,” Matt said, gesturing to the sitting area. “I’ll show you around, if you can bear it.”
Sabine was the girl who had ended Matt’s relationship with Niamh; when the girlfriend came to visit one evening, she found the blonde in his bed. She was pure calendar material and hardly the type I expected Matt to like. Maybe that was half the reason he’d ended up with her in the first place.
“So.” Johnny cocked an eyebrow at me. “Moving in with Matthew.”
“Yeah.” I sipped my juice and nodded politely.
Greg leaned in. “Moving in,” he repeated, grinning.
“As friends,” I said. “We’re going to work together.”
“I love how you’re so coy about it.” Greg laughed. “We’re all friends here, Leila. You can admit it. He won’t, but he’s a bit sad like that. You can.”
“Leave her alone, you arse.” Johnny shook his head.
“We really are just friends,” I said weakly. “We’ll have separate rooms.”
He sighed. “You’re discreet. I’ll give you that.”
Jesus. I wish!
“I’m going to go and find Aidan,” I said. “Nice to see you again.”
Johnny shrugged helplessly and I shot him a sheepish smile.
I was too busy making sure I didn’t topple on my heels to notice where I was going; there was a space in front of me one second and the next, a very firm shoulder. Then there was the dull thump of impact and my chest was doused in cold beer.
“Fuck. Sorry,” he exclaimed, jumping back.
“Sorry, sorry. I–” I glanced up at him. “Oh.”
“Mmm. Hello again,” said Ben Rafferty, his face creased in embarrassment. “Shall I…um. Shall I get you a towel?”
“Please.” I watched the muscles roll under his fitted t-shirt as he hurried off. The hot boy who thought I was retarded was at Matt’s party. Awesome.
He returned a minute later with a wad of napkins and in a corner, I patted myself down.
“You can go now,” I said. “I might be a bit special, but I can dry myself off.”
“I’m sorry about that, you know.” He failed at suppressing a smile. “It’s just that on the phone, you sounded–”
“I know, I know. I was a bit drunk when I called,” I admitted.
“It’s like something from a bad comedy sketch.”
“I suppose so.” I grimaced down at my still-soaked dress. “So how do you know Matt?”
“Oh. Used to play rugby with him.”
Immaculate hair, manicured nails. Metrosexuals do not play rugby. “You don’t look like the type,” I teased.
“I wasn’t, to be fair. You’ve got me. I’m a pansy.” He glanced about and leaned in to whisper. “Don’t tell anyone else, will you?”
Was he flirting with me? It’d been ages since I’d enjoyed flirting with anybody who hadn’t paid me for sex.
“What about you?” he asked. “How come you’re here?”<
br />
“We worked together. We’re still going to work together, actually…I’m moving with him.”
“I didn’t know he had a girlfriend,” Ben said.
“Oh, I’m not. We’re not.”
His eyes lit up in the dim corner. “Right.” He smiled. “I’m going to get another drink. Wait here for me?”
No. Capital NO. I couldn’t sleep with him. I was due at work in…yep, just under three hours. I’d barely have time to shower off the beer, let alone the smell of another man.
But he did smell rather lovely.
“I got you another one,” Ben declared, handing me plastic cup of juice.
“Thanks.”
“Tell me a bit about what you’re going off to do in Salisbury, then.”
As I chatted, he bent his head close to listen above the row of the party, and it was then I recognized the fresh, sharp scent of him.
He wore the same aftershave as Joseph. He had the same big green eyes, too.
I stopped listening to whatever it was Ben was saying and wondered what Joseph was doing tonight. What was he wearing? Did his voice pour across a little restaurant table at the Italian place we loved so much, or over the din of a bar?
“Who’s this, then?” Aidan bellowed, elbowing me.
“This is Ben.” I smiled. “He knows Matt from rugby.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Ben held out a hand and Aidan pumped it.
“A pleasure. And how do you know Miss Vaughn here?”
“He refused me a job last week,” I said, eyeing Ben deviously.
“It’s true. I had to turn her away. She wasn’t really…what we were after.”
Aidan snorted. “You only employ crotchety old toffs?”
“Something like that.” He laughed. “She was a bit overqualified, so to speak.”
I tipped my head. “You read my CV then. I didn’t think recruitment consultants bothered with those sorts of things.”
He smirked. “Thought it might have your phone number on.”
“Lei-Lei,” Aidan muttered.
“Yes?”
“Stop thinking with your cock,” he said through gritted teeth.
Ben blinked. “Mmm?”
“I said, chip off the old block.” Aidan clapped him on the shoulder. “See you around.”
“What was that all about?” Ben said.
“Him? He’s always like that. Ignore him.” I set my drink down on a stack of magazines. “Want to dance?”
Admittedly, there wasn’t a lot of room for anything that deserved to be called dancing, but we weren’t the only ones and it was as good an excuse as any to touch him. Whether it was the evocative scent of him, how warm his hands were, that he was just different…touching him seemed like a good idea.
Besides, he wasn’t ashamed to twirl me about like an idiot.
“Nice dancing.”
I half jumped as Matt materialized.
“Have you come to join us?” I asked sheepishly.
“I was looking for you,” he said, throwing Ben a blank stare. “Wondered if we could chat for a minute.”
“Oh. All right.” I peeled Ben’s hand from my hip. “Back in a bit, okay?”
“Of course.” He shrugged, fists delving into his pockets as he watched us leave.
I followed Matt through dark halls and bright lights. The noise died behind his bedroom door.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
He flicked on a lamp. “Suppose. Yeah.”
“I’ve never been in your room before.” Trails of junk spilled from half-packed boxes. “Not here, I mean.”
“Leila.”
“What?”
“If you’re going to rebound, can you do me the decency of not doing it in my flat?”
“I’m sorry,” I managed. “I didn’t mean to be a cow.”
“I know you didn’t.” He sighed.
“I mean, I wasn’t really going to do anything. I just–”
He lunged and then his hands spanned my cheeks, his forehead mashed to mine.
“What are you doing?” I shrieked.
“I could help you rebound,” he murmured. “Since you’re ready, and all.”
I only just restrained a groan. “You’re drunk, aren’t you?”
“Possibly.” His eyes were wide, pupils glassy.
We walked back until I was trapped between his torso and the door. I tasted alcohol on his breath as it flooded the space between us.
“Can you back up a bit, please?” I croaked.
“Why?” He stroked my cheek. “We still like each other. Don’t you think we’re wasting time?”
“I think you’re being inappropriate.”
“Shit. Where are my manners?” He reached into his pocket and for one horrible moment, I thought he was going to get his wallet out. Then it was obvious that he was just feeling awkward–but too late. It was written all over my quivering lip and wide eyes.
“Not those kinds of manners,” he spat.
I gave a slow, apologetic nod. Circles, circles…we clashed in the same places, over and over again. Maybe it was the mirror between us, showing us what we wanted to see. Or maybe it showed us things that we’d rather forget about ourselves. About each other.
“We’re not going to get back together, Matt,” I said quietly.
Outside, an acoustic guitar began to play to whoops and applause.
“It might happen,” he said.
“No, it won’t.”
“But it’d happen with Ben the cock out there? He’s…he’s got an earring! Fucking hell.”
I folded my arms and smiled sadly. “He smells like Joseph.” The words came out so small, so weak; Matt winced like he’d been punched in the face.
“Shall I walk you home?” he said eventually.
“That’d be nice.”
He lent me a jacket, since it was windy and I was still half-soaked in beer. We talked over the moving plans and about the company we were going to. He told me how Salisbury cathedral, just a few minutes from our new office, was drenched in flowing floodlights in the dark, towering into the sky like an earthy fist with a handful of moonlit cloud. He missed the place so deeply. He talked with his blood.
He was taking me home to where his heart was, and I’d broken it before we’d even got there.
“I shouldn’t do this,” I said. “Moving in with you. It’ll be a disaster.”
“Don’t be stupid, Leila.”
I tugged his sleeve. “You were going to stop torturing yourself, remember?”
“I was. I’m…working on it.” A hand played through his dark mop of hair. “I’ll cope. I’ll be fine. I’m a big boy.”
“Oh, I know.” Well, that sounded a lot dirtier than I intended.
He managed a lopsided grin. “Cheers.”
Thank God for that.
After an uncomfortable–but amicable–hug, I made my way up to the flat and fell into the shower. I flicked the laptop on while I did my makeup, glumly noting that there was still no email from Clemmie. Then I loaded up online banking.
I caught sight of my account balance and squinted at the screen.
Fuck.
Fuck!
Chapter 18
“What’s going on?” I demanded.
It was barely nine AM, the earliest I thought decent to ring Mom and Dad. I hadn’t arrived home until two and had barely slept, though was still in bed. My brain fizzed all night with the memory of my banking screenshot.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Dad said blithely.
“You put the money back in my account!”
“Did we?” His confusion was so badly feigned.
“Yes, you bloody did! What are you thinking? What’s going to happen to the estate?”
“It’s all right, love,” he said warmly. “Don’t panic.”
Panic? I was half tempted to tell him how I’d earned the money! Hell, it felt like everyone else knew recently.
“I don’t understand.”
“Leila…you didn’t think we could really take that much from you, did you?”
“You had extenuating circumstances,” I insisted. “I couldn’t let you lose the house.”
“We haven’t lost it, love.” He cleared his throat. “We…sold it.”
“What?”
“We sold it about two months ago, actually. We’re just looking after the place until they sort out new managers.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I demanded. “How could you let me think I was paying it all off?”
“You needed to do it though, didn’t you? We saw how worried you were and you were so busy with your important training…”
“I can’t believe you’ve sold it.” I wanted to weep. I just didn’t have the energy.
“Leila, we hung on for as long as we could, but it obviously wasn’t working. Paying everything off wasn’t going to solve problems with the actual business.” He sighed; he must have dreaded telling me this. “Besides…we were hardly comfortable with where the money was coming from.”
Erm. “What do you mean?”
“We know you don’t have another job,” he said pointedly.
“You do?”
“You should have the money. It was given to you. We put the interest on. You can give it back to him if you feel comfortable, or sort yourself out with a flat...but it’s your choice. We can’t take his guilt money.”
“Who’s him?” I said, trying not to sound suspicious.
He exhaled heavily. “That Charles Flemming.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” I groaned.
“Excuse me, young lady–”
“Sorry.” I spoke through my hand. “Sorry.”
“You didn’t think we were oblivious, did you? Half the village was talking about you at one point.”
Now my hands covered my eyes. “Really?”
“We thought that when he moved away, it was the end of it. But he was obviously very fond of you. We knew he was giving you the money, love.”
How to deny that without telling the truth? Somehow, having my parents think I was Charlie’s mistress was better than them knowing I was a whore–even when in this case, they more or less amounted to the same thing.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” I muttered. “You must have been really embarrassed.”
“Not as much as we were worried.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
Breaking Joseph Page 24
