by K. L. Jessop
“Sorry, miles away. Yes, everything is fine.”
“Was that your parents?”
“No. I thought it might have been, but I doubt it will be for a few more hours yet. They like to get settled before making calls.”
“Where are they?” Dexter asks unexpectedly.
“Florida,” I say on a shaky smile, feeling the ball in the back of my throat thicken. “They left earlier today, completely unexpected, and will be gone for a month.”
“I’m sure the time will fly in no time,” Emmet adds.
“Hope so.” The knife twists in my stomach, and I have to turn away from them to stop the tears from building. Making myself useful, I start to collect up the empty pizza boxes and place them in the rubbish bin under the counter.
“What do your parents do, Pepper?” Emmet enquires.
“They both took early retirement. Mum used to own a lingerie company that only supplied to boutique stores around the world, and dad is the CEO of a London magazine. They both stopped working a couple of years back but keep themselves up to date with it all at the same time from home.”
The look that Emmet gives me tells me he understands their reasons for stopping working. We all hit a wall when Persie died, and it made them realise that family was more important than work. Dad still dabbles in the journalism business, which is why he’s headed out to Florida today, and Mum still has her fair share of involvement with her company but nothing like they used to. When we where kids, Persie and I would go days without seeing either of them because they were so bogged down with work. Now, it’s nice to know they are pretty much available whenever I need them.
“And remind me where home is again? I don’t think I actually asked you.”
I raise a brow at Emmet and grin. “Well, that’s bad coming from an officer. I told you to check my profile out.”
“He’s into taking in waifs and strays,” Dexter replies, and I’m unsure if that’s an insult.
“I live in Primrose Hill. Been there all my life but moved out of the family home into my own place not long after I started University.”
“Primrose Hill. That figures,” Dexter mutters under his breath, but we both hear it.
This time his comment has got my back up, and I can only assume what he is thinking: a good little rich girl living in Primrose where houses are huge as well as bank balances. I’m not going to lie, I’m not hard done by when it comes to my cash flow, and yes the majority of that of late has come from my dad to help tide me over while I’ve been out of work, but that does not mean I’m anything like the girls I can only assume Dexter is classing me as. I don’t like being anyone’s charity case, and I certainly don’t like people assuming I’m a snob.
“Meaning what?”
He looks at me, his arm resting on the back of the chair, his legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. His mouth tugs at the corner but he doesn’t look at me. “Nothing of importance, Little Blue.”
I frown at the name he calls me and fold my arms, wanting him to elaborate more. My inner bitch is as confused as I am because I’ve never known a man to be so contradictive with his behaviours, and I know damn well that it’s not the bipolar talking. It’s Dexter himself.
“Well it clearly is, or you wouldn’t have passed comment. So, what is it?”
He gets up and turns to leave, leaving the whiskey on the table as he replies over his shoulder. “Something that can wait. And nothing that you’re not likely to bring up in conversation again that’s for sure.”
I have to stop myself from going out and asking him what his fucking problem is and where the Dexter I was standing next to in the kitchen not that long ago has gone, because right now he is being nothing but an arsehole.
I look back at Emmet and he shakes his head, and once again, I’m left with questions that I don’t think I’ll ever get the answer to, my body a mess of feelings and desires.
Chapter Twelve
Dexter
The past few days in the gallery have been blissful torture. Blissful because Pepper has barely said a word, only talking when she has to know of any details for the website she’s still currently working on or about the plans to get the builders in to start the construction. However, the torture has come in the form of passing looks and occasional close contact. We’ve found ourselves at the bottom of the stairs when one of us has needed the bathroom, the tension and the consumed space of the gallery feeling like it’s closing in on me with every passing day she’s in it. The fresh scent of her perfume that’s like a fucking drug has often had me pressing my hand against the shower wall for support at night while I take my cock in the other and allow my daily demons be replaced with crystal blue eyes and a body I want to devour.
After a lot of thought, and with my days finally starting to make way for a good stage after the dull ones have hit, I’ve decided to stop acting like a dickhead and get the plans for the gallery underway. Emmet has put so much in our friendship; the least I can do is show him that I’m grateful. And I am. It may not seem it at times with the way I behave, but I do truly love the acceptance he’s given me as a person and value everything there is between us. I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for him. But I’m not going to lie and say that I don’t find it a struggle. In a world of nothing and no one where each new day brings another kick of doubt, hopelessness and worthlessness, it eats away at me without any control, making me feel nothing—telling me I’m the nobody that I was always told I’d turn out to be.
I am nothing.
It had never been my idea to sell my pictures in the café. It had never been my idea to open a gallery and sell them for a living. As much as the idea brings a spark of something in this twisted mind of mine, I’d never thought I was good enough for a life like he told me I could achieve. I’d been a man of the urban street with a bed made of cardboard boxes and recycled blankets. I was never going to be what he’d expected of me. Fuck me, the time that Emmet found me I barely been able to write a sentence because I’d forgotten everything I’d learnt in the short time that I went to school. Taking me out of the city grounds and placing me in a home with walls and a roof over my head had brought a completely different turn of events and at that point, I’d been at an even bigger loss. I’d had to learn new things—things I never thought I’d ever have the chance to learn again—and to this very day, I still believe that that was what led to me going crazy on him when he kept pushing.
In medical terms, we learnt it was bipolar rage, but I don’t believe that shit for a second. I’ve no illness: I’m laced with The Devil’s blood. He wakes when I least expect it, he makes me say things I wish I’d never said and on days like today, where I can finally put down the alcohol and think clearly, he’s sleeping.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t like to push people, and the one that’s my target today is the brunette sitting at the desk.
Each new day that she enters the studio she’s worn a different outfit. Yesterday, she’d been in an innocent-looking, black floral dress with berry colour tights and black boots. Today, she looks like she’s stepped out of a rock concert wearing black skinny jeans that are ripped at the knees, a white vest top and a short black leather jacket. Her makeup is a little heavier than normal, and her hair seems to have more volume, meaning it bounces with each step. I can’t work out which look I like her in the best, or whether behind all the appearances she brings to my door it’s her that I like the most.
Picking up a spray can and large square canvas, I leave the gallery and head outside to spray the entire thing black. Placing my safety mask on, I shake the aerosol can a few times for the ball inside to clang before covering the white backdrop in pure black paint. I’m working on a commission today. One of Emmet's friends had a kid who’s obsessed with The Avengers and his parents have asked that I design two canvases of the Hulk and Thor.
Sensing that the black spray is starting to run out, I take the large piece inside once I’m done. Heading over to Pepper’s desk, I fin
d her looking at her phone and notice that she’s been doing it most of the day.
“Hey, Blue. Can you order me some more cans? I think Emmet left the suppliers information in a folder or something.”
“I’ll take a look,” she says solemnly without even looking at me.
I wait for a second, wanting something else back from her but unsure what until she looks up. Her eyes. I hadn’t realised how much I’ve wanted them on me.
“Anything else?”
I shake my head and leave her to it, not liking the look that’s in her eyes today. She’s lost her smile and she’s hardly said a word. Leaning the now black canvas against the wall, I head over to the portable stereo and press play before Imagine Dragons blast out through the speakers.
I like to work to music, and I like it loud, not giving two shit’s who is around me at that time. Taking the green aerosol can from the cardboard box on the floor, I shake it up before I start to spray the outline of hulk on the board. I get lost in my work and the colours and before I realise a couple of hours have passed. As I look over at Pepper, I find her watching me and that little flicker of something in me ignites. I nod back, this time hoping for that smile that makes her eyes glisten, but she looks away and picks up her phone that now flashes on the desk. When she rushes out of the gallery to talk to whoever has called, I watch her every move as though my body and soul have no control. She sits on the bottom steps that lead up to my place and looks up at the clear blue sky that has cast itself over the city today. The blur of the loud music suddenly irritates me because I want to hear her voice and the conversation she is having—a conversation that seems to have lifted her spirits for a few seconds. But when I see a wide smile break out across her face, I can’t control that wave of jealousy that runs through my body. My grip on the spray can suddenly gets stronger and the muscles in my jaw ache with the tension of pressing down on my teeth.
Who is she talking to? Is it a guy? Why am I even fucking bothered?
Then, like a movie playing in my mind. I see Pepper’s naked body wrapped in my bedsheets, me kissing every inch of her and marking her pure creamy skin. It’s something I’ve tried hard not to envisage because I know I’m no good for her, but visualising her wrapped around someone else has created a storm that’s more dangerous. Not wanting to look anymore, I turn back to the piece I am working on and have to control all the rage inside me to not put my fist through it. What is this woman doing to me? I’m so fucking confused.
I don’t know how many more minutes pass, but suddenly the room is silenced and the words from the stereo die out. Turning around, I find Pepper standing at the other end of the room.
“What?” I bark.
“Can I go home a little earlier please?”
So the guy she was just talking to can play with her fiddle? Fuck no.
“Why?”
“Because I have a headache and I can’t concentrate with the noise.”
“And that’s my problem because?” Before the phone call, I would have said yes because I can tell she’s not herself, but if she thinks she can leave to have a play date, hell no.
“Dexter, please,” she sighs, closing her eyes. “I’m not in the mood for an argument.”
Well, I suddenly am. I place my spray can on the floor and pick up the cloth to wipe my hands, walking over to her. “What’s the matter, Blue? Doesn’t the little firecracker feel smiley today? Did she get out on the wrong side of someone’s bed this morning?”
Her eyes snap open.
“Or are you missing the pocket money from Daddy while he’s away?”
As predicted, she folds her arms and I have to stop a triumphant fist pump, knowing I’ve woken up her explosive side. She may not have intentionally started this verbal war but she’s sure as hell not going to win the battle either.
“Oh, and we’re back on that!” she bites, her arms flying up in the air. “I wondered how long it would be before my lifestyle would be brought up. So come on then, Dexter, get it out, everything that’s on your chest and that you’re dying to say. Do you want to know how much was put into my bank account each month growing up? How much is in my savings or how much I spent on toiletries each month with Daddy’s money?”
I’m impressed she’s fighting back harder than she normally would but it’s doing nothing to stop the growing erection that’s now pressing against my damn trousers. What I wouldn't give to have that mouth of hers wrapped around my dick.
“Want me to make a spreadsheet for you to see my purchases over the year? Huh? What will it be?”
I mirror her position, my heart racing, yet I can’t help the grin that’s across my lips. “Wow, you’re really unhinged today. Is your red river flowing or something?”
In three strides, she’s right at me, and the only reason I keep all the control I have and don’t pull her against me and kiss her is because I now see tears in her eyes.
I’m about to take a step back and—for the first time ever—allow her to rant with no comeback from me, but her words change things.
“Just because I don’t wallow in self-pity like you do, Dexter, or drink my problems away—"
I press my finger hard against her lips. No one gets to speak to me like that and assume they know me when in reality they know absolutely fuck all.
I grit out my words, finding myself once again in a position that has me so close to her yet infuriated as shit at the same time. This girl has no leverage in this debate anymore. “I’d think very carefully before you say anything else, if I were you. Don’t judge me by what you think you know. Until you’ve walked a life in my shoes, Little Blue, you. Know. Nothing.”
She steps back, only to come back at me, pointing the tip of her finger into my chest. “Then don’t assume you know anything about me either. Just because the majority of the time I walk around with a smile on my face, Dexter, doesn’t mean I don’t feel like I’m dying inside.”
Her words stun me. The look in her eyes reflects my own: lost, damaged and laced with a pain that can never be changed. I want to know why. I want to know everything that lies behind them, and I’m confused as to why I’ve not noticed it before.
But before I can take hold of her and make her stay, she’s out of the door in seconds, leaving me in an empty room that suddenly seems colder than the ground under my feet and with scenarios running my mind that I want the answers to.
Chapter Thirteen
Pepper
I wake at the sound of sirens chasing through the city only to discover that I’d fallen asleep on my sofa. The hollow pit in my stomach and the ache I feel in my chest is still there, and one I know isn’t going to go away anytime soon. It’s lasted all day, and the build-up has been slowly reaching the edge before I’ve cried a thousand tears.
It’s my birthday.
It’s a day that should be filled with happiness and love, spending it with those around me, but here I am, alone and anything but happy as I remember the horrifying day that took place like it was yesterday.
Persie had loved birthdays or anything that had given her the excuse to celebrate. Tequila shots and gin had always been supplied along with a few bags of peanuts, and I think it’s safe to say that freshmen year had been the worst. The hangover the next day had been the worst kind of hell.
I’d cried all the way home after having yet another ring match with Dexter.
I’d tried so hard to contain my grief whilst I was there, but when I’d received the call from my parents—a call I’d wanted but at the same time had been dreading—the tears had started to build, and I’d known I had to leave. Making up the excuse of having a headache hadn’t been a complete lie: the truth is, I don’t know how much longer I’d have been able to listen to the music blast out. I hadn’t been able to concentrate and that had made my mind wander to memories I hadn’t wished to think about, so I’d had to leave.
We’d barely spoken a word all day, and although I’d needed some form of normality from him, I hadn’t wanted what I
ended up getting.
As soon as I’d closed my front door, I’d let my body fall to the ground as the tears left me in deep uncontrollable sobs with the pain I was in. Malcolm has text to ask if I needed anything but I haven’t replied.
Every year since Persie died, my birthday celebrations have been the same: I don’t celebrate. The ache that I hold in my chest overpowers everything no matter how hard I try to not let it. The tears will forever fall, the pain will never fade and like I’ve always said, my smile means nothing.
I jump at the sound of knocking on my front door, and I look at my clock on the living room wall. It’s way after midnight. It won’t be Malcolm because he always rings.
Getting up from the sofa, I wrap the blanket around my shoulders and go to investigate. Peering through the peephole, my breath hitches and my pulse quickens when I find Dexter standing on the other side.
“What the fuck?” I whisper. How has he found out where I live? More importantly, what is he doing here?
“I know you’re there, Blue.”
Blue.
It’s a nickname I suddenly like hearing but have no idea where it’s come from.
As if his words are a command, I unbolt the door and open it. His hair is still up in that messy bun and he’s wearing a crisp, black leather jacket. His hands are in the pockets of his skinny jeans while his brown eyes that hold so much depth and mystery have a look of uncertainty. It’s not often I’ve seen this man with insecurity washed across his face, but right now, it’s all I see. Hidden behind the shadows of his arsehole tendencies is a man who is clearly fighting so much more than I know and so much more than I think he’s ever willing to give away.
“What are you doing here?”
The way he’d made me feel earlier is nothing compared to how he’s making me feel now as he rakes his eyes down the full length of my body dressed in a thin, black cami pyjama set.
