“That doesn’t matter. His kind are a dime a dozen, Bri. I can replace him with a snap of my fingers. You should have fucking told me.”
A headache is starting in the back of my head. I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“You have fuck all to be sorry for. No one else told me either—which I’m going to make damn sure they all know how fucking pissed I am at them for. Anyway, just so you know, whether Brandon’s innocent of attacking you or not, he’s a dead man. No one treats my girl like that and gets away with it.”
I smirk at his hot-headedness. “Chris, I think you should calm down first…”
“This all fucking makes sense now. Brandon hasn’t shown up at the warehouse in a week. He’s still been working for me, but so far, he’s managed to avoid meeting face to face.”
Logic runs through my head, making my skin prickle. “Charlie kicked his arse. There would be evidence of that if you saw him… Shit, is this really just a coincidence?”
I hear his angered exhale. “I don’t believe in fucking coincidences, Bri. I’m thinking it’s time to pay that little fucker a surprise visit.”
My eyes widen with both fear and… excitement. God, I’m fucked up.
“Okay, but remember to get all the facts first before you act. It may not be him.”
I’m clutching at straws, knowing full well that fists will fly before the questions do. I only ask because one day his hot-headedness might end up getting him killed.
“I think both you and I know the answer to that, Bri, but if it makes you feel any better, then yeah, I’ll get all the facts first.” He then sighs exasperatedly before saying, “Are you okay? I can come pick you up.”
“I’m fine. No need to pick me up,” I answer, knowing full well he’s most probably on his way to see Brandon already. “Oh, and while we’re on the subject, Charlie said he would make sure I get home safely whenever you couldn’t.”
“Well, that’s very noble of the ninja gay man.”
I almost choke on my own spit. “Ninja what?”
“Listen, jokes aside, I have to go.” I’m about to tell him to be careful because I know for a fact he’s going to go apeshit on Brandon, but like a mind reader, he speaks again. “Don’t worry, I already told you I’m not going to come in hard at Brandon until I know the facts. The first thing I’m going to do is try and find him to see if he’s been beat up lately.”
I sigh my relief. At least he’s thinking logically.
“That’s a good start.”
“You’re seriously okay after that Frosty arsehole…?”
“Chris, I’m fine. I already told you he just wanted to talk. I even believe he wanted to help too. He told me his sister was gang raped when he was younger. I think it affected him enough to come to me and let me know that we’re looking in the wrong direction.”
“As long as you’re okay. I’m going to take a look into this now. We have a shipment coming in later tonight and there’s a fucking storm coming. Talking of which, I think it’s supposed to start by four, so you may want to ask Charlie if you can leave early. Let me know, and I’ll pick you up.”
I glance over towards John’s café, my stomach grumbling for food now. “Sure thing. I’ll let you know. Love you.”
I hear the smile in his voice when he replies, “Love you more,” before hanging up.
I place my phone back in my pocket and look for an opportunity to cross the busy main road. I’m so glad the antique store is on a busy road because after what happened to me, I don’t think I will ever walk anywhere isolated ever again. At least not alone. Without wanting to, my eyes wander to the side alley that leads to the back of the shop, and I shiver, the images still all too consuming in my mind.
I glance away, instead looking again for my opportunity to cross. A few seconds later, I’m in John’s packed café. It’s always full of blue-collared workers having their big breakfasts. Watching them all eat makes my stomach grumble even more.
“There she is. A sight for sore eyes.” John, the big, balding owner’s smile stretches wide as I approach him. “No bodyguard today?”
Without him having to say, I know he means Chris. It’s his new nickname for him, considering he’s always so protective around me.
“No, he’s working. And so am I.”
John beams back. “What can I get ya? Your usual?”
I offer him a big smile back. “Of course. Can’t start my day without the John’s special.”
He winks back at me. “One John’s special made with love coming right up!”
God, he’s such a flirt.
I completely forgot about this bloody storm coming until the shop door suddenly blew open after three in the afternoon, causing leaves and bits of paper to come flying in with it.
Launching myself up on my feet, I race to the door, shutting it behind me just as Charlie appears—obviously hearing the commotion.
I lean on the door, slightly out of breath from my jolt of adrenaline. Man, I need to exercise more.
“Shit, it’s getting pretty bad out there.”
Charlie’s forehead forms a tight frown, his eyes fixed on the window. I turn my head to look behind me, noticing not one person is out there braving it. The wind is howling, plastic and paper bags flying all over the place in the wind. The skies are grey but are increasingly blackening by the second.
Shit! “How am I going to get home in this?”
“I guess you’re staying here until it passes.” I hadn’t realised I had said that out loud until Charlie answered. “Lock the door, Bri. The shop’s closed for now.”
He disappears into the back, and I do as instructed, locking the door behind me and turning the open sign over to closed. I wonder why Chris hasn’t called about this, so I take my phone out of my pocket and notice there are already five missed calls from him. Immediately, I call him back.
“Bri, fucking hell, why didn’t you answer my calls? I’m going fucking crazy here. I tried leaving to come get you, and part of a metal roof flew at my head—”
Panic searing through me, I blurt out, “Oh, shit! Are you okay?”
He sighs, and I note the instant relief in his voice. “I’m fine. More importantly, are you? The storm came quicker than expected.”
“Don’t worry about me, I’m safe in the shop. Charlie just told me to lock the door. There’s zero people outside. No customers are going to brave this.” Just as I say that, I spot a branch from a tree flying into the window of a shop next to John’s café. Glass smashes with an almighty crash.
“Holy fucking shit!”
“What’s wrong, Bri?”
No one seems to be around. The branch is just sitting there, wedged inside the shops window. “A branch just hit the shop opposite us.”
“Stay away from the window.” He sighs, frustrated. “I can’t fucking get to you.”
“I know, don’t worry. I’ll stay here and ride it out until I can come home. Just stay safe yourself, okay?”
“Okay, let’s stay in touch. I’ll come and get you as soon as it starts to calm.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too, baby.”
I hang up, my eyes scanning outside. It’s not getting any calmer at all. In fact, it seems to be getting worse. My eyes narrow, attempting to see if there’s any signs of life in the shop opposite, but if anyone is in there, they’re choosing to stay away from the window for now. It’s frustrating, knowing that there’s another commercial premises in trouble and not being able to do a damn thing about it.
I guess I’m just going to have to sit, twiddling my thumbs in the shop and wait it out.
A thump sounds against the window, making me jump with a yelp. All it was is a cardboard box of some kind, but it was a big enough thump to scare me.
Remembering Chris’s words to stay away from the window, I take his advice, moving towards my seat behind the counter, perching myself on top with a sigh. Lord knows how long I’m going to b
e sat here for.
“Fancy a brew?” Charlie’s voice jolts me up from my seat. “Sorry,” he says, looking guilty that he’d scared me. I guess I’m still jittery after what happened.
Not wanting my mind to go there, I answer, “No need to be. And yes, I would love a cup of tea.”
He motions with his head towards the back. “Well, come on then. There’s no use in you sitting out here anymore, is there?”
My eyes almost bug out of my head. My boss is seriously inviting me in the back with him? I must be dreaming. I pinch myself.
Nope… Not dreaming.
Swiftly, I get up from my seat and follow Charlie into the back. It’s only a tiny hallway with his office tucked off to the right at the back. I notice that his light isn’t on, but there is light shining from upstairs. Gingerly, I grab the staircase and take one step up, noticing the creak on the first step. I take the rest of them without noise and emerge into the light.
A slightly bigger room, old, but not in the least bit untidy, appears before my eyes. In fact, this kitchen/dining area is almost military grade tidy, with all the plates stacked one on top of the other in order by size, same with all his tea cloths. The kitchen is galley style with a small, rectangle wooden table placed what appears to be right smack bang in the centre. It’s also warmer up here. I shiver at the warmth radiating through me.
“I can turn the heating up, if you’re cold?”
“No, it’s fine,” I reply. “I was actually thinking how warm it is up here compared to downstairs. It’s nice.”
He motions to the table. “Take a seat. I have a feeling we’re going to be here for a while, so may as well make yourself comfortable.”
I sit down, looking around the dimly lit kitchen area, taking everything in. It’s strange being up here after working downstairs for six months. It’s like an attachment to another world.
“It’s not much, but it’s home.”
His voice pulls me from my musings to find him sat right opposite me, tea already placed on the table along with some chocolate biscuits perfectly stacked in a line, one overlapping the other.
“I bet if I were to inspect your wardrobe, all your shirts and everything will be neatly pressed and stacked in military order.” He doesn’t respond, just eyes me, almost suspiciously. I shrug my shoulders. “Everything seems in perfect order, that’s all,” I explain. “I’m betting your ex-forces of some kind.”
One eyebrow raises in the sexiest manner I have ever seen. Sort of a cross between mild amusement and mild annoyance.
“You’ve come to those conclusions about me by looking at my kitchen?”
My cheeks flush. Is he mad? I can never tell with that perfect fucking poker face of his.
“Everything’s stacked neatly, like in order. That’s all I’m saying.”
“And how would you know anything about that?”
I search his face, trying to determine whether or not he’s annoyed, when he leans in, narrowing his eyes. He seems genuinely interested in my answer.
“My brother was in the army…”
“Was?”
My body stiffens, and my throat clogs. The mere mention of my brother has me on edge.
“He joined the Coldstream Guards when I was fifteen, did two tours in Afghanistan…” I stop for a moment, my composure starting to slip. I take a deep breath.
“Did he not make it back the second time?” Glad that he asked so I don’t have to go into detail, I offer a small smile and meekly nod my head. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
I close my eyes, guilt riddling every part of my body. I deliberately don’t make a habit of ever talking or thinking back to that part of my life. That part is dead now—buried. I knew back then things were never going to be the same again, and I was right.
“It is what it is, I guess.”
“Do you have any other brothers or sisters?”
I frown at his questioning. Not once has he bothered to ask me anything personal the whole time I’ve worked for him. I guess now he’s forced to because of the storm.
“No, it was just him and me.” Deciding to change the subject, I say, “Where did you learn to fight like that?” If he wants to ask prying questions, then so will I.
He eyes me a second, a faint hint of some emotion there, but I can’t quite figure out what. He picks up a biscuit, breaking it in half. “I’m a black belt in karate.” He pops the biscuit in his mouth and starts chewing, and my eyes can’t help wandering down to his lips as he does.
Focus, Bri. Focus.
I’m about to ask him to go into more detail, when he speaks again. “How are you feeling after… you know… what happened?”
I can’t help but wonder if he’s only asking that question to veer away from him, or if he truly cares enough to ask. Either way, I answer him. “I’m still jumpy and sometimes wake up during the night thinking someone’s in the house.” Not to mention the fact that Chris and I haven’t had sex in what feels like forever. This is definitely a record for us, but we both realise I almost got raped. I doubt anyone would want to jump into bed with someone for a while after that.
“That’s only natural. Do you know who they were?”
I shake my head. “I have no clue.” Thinking about that third guy, I frown.
“What is it?” I flit my head to Charlie, questioningly.
“It’s like you’ve remembered something about that day. What is it?”
I shake my head. “It’s just silly really, but one of them never talked…”
“Never talked?”
I’ve been thinking a lot about that lately, and what Frosty said. I always had my suspicions, but the attacker’s silence plus what Chris revealed today about Brandon not turning up for work this past week has it almost cemented that it is him.
“Yeah, one of them never spoke at all. It was almost as if he was afraid to, like he knew I’d recognise his voice, you know?”
“You sound like you already know who it is. Have you been to the police with your suspicions?”
Nah, cause Chris is the police, judge, juror, and executioner all in one. That’s not something you can divulge over a cup of tea and a chocolate digestive biscuit, though, is it?
“I take it by that look you haven’t even reported it to the police?”
What fucking look am I giving this guy that makes him read me like a book?
“What’s the point of it? The police don’t do diddly-squat.”
“You really believe that?”
I narrow my eyes at him then nod my head. “Yes, I really do believe that. I can’t tell you the countless times things have been reported to the police, but the victims are just ignored.”
“Are you speaking from experience?”
Woah, Charlie’s getting very personal now. The heat in this kitchen seems to have turned up a few notches.
“Can we talk about something else?” I almost whisper back. Again, we’re going back to a time in my life I don’t want to look back at. My mother was an alcoholic, sometimes bringing unsavoury characters back to the house when my dad wasn’t around. I can’t even guess the amount of times I had to call the police because one of the guys was getting full-on or violent towards me or my mother. The police would come, turf the guy out of the house, and see how shit-faced my mother was. However, as long as she was in the house to take care of me, (the irony), they would just piss off back to the station. I learnt my lesson early enough to realise that the police really don’t give a shit.
An uncomfortable silence descends upon us, so I take the opportunity to grab a biscuit and dip it in my tea. A sound I can only describe as a slight snort makes me look up to find Charlie smiling. A very rare sight to behold.
“You’re one of those,” he says, motioning with his head to the biscuit in my hand.
“What?” I smile back too as this is much better than the tension we had only a moment ago.
“You’re a dunker.”
I shrug my shoulders and bite into the sogg
y biscuit. My favourite. “Nothing wrong with dunking.”
“And you talk with your mouth full. Great.” A laugh erupts inside of me causing me to almost spit my biscuit out. Charlie gets up quickly, retrieving some tissue and handing it to me. “Here, before you spit bits of biscuit all over my table.”
I take the tissue and wipe my mouth, making sure to chew everything before I reply. “You know, you’re like the male version of Monica Geller.” He frowns deeply, proving that he doesn’t have a clue who I’m on about. “From Friends.”
“Ah, I don’t watch stuff like that.”
“Stuff?” I feel almost offended. “That stuff is only the greatest piece of television you’ll ever watch.”
His chest moves with a silent laugh. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“Don’t you ever dunk?” I ask, dunking the remainder of the biscuit in my tea then taking a bite.
“Dunking is for the uncouth.”
I nearly spit the biscuit out again, my brows raised. I wait to chew the remainder before I reply. “So you’re saying I’m uncouth.”
“Did you hear me say that?” he quips back.
“No, but you implied it.”
“Implying is not saying.”
I shrug nonchalantly. “Whatever, big man.” I stiffen the moment those words leave my lips. Way too personal a statement for my boss. “Sorry,” I quickly say, my head turning away.
Back to feeling awkward again.
“Where do you see yourself in ten years, Bri?”
My eyes widen. Of all the questions I’d expect him to ask me, that would have been the last on my list. The moment the shock wears off, my stomach ties in knots. I know where Chris sees us in ten years. He’s told me about it often enough.
“I’m going to show you the world, princess, because a princess deserves the world. You will never want for anything, never need anything. All this hard work will pay off tenfold for us. I’ll buy us an island where we can live off the land and make babies. No one will be there to judge us. It’ll just be you and me.”
I swallow nervously because I don’t know how to answer. But then I decide to answer honestly.
Tainted Love Page 7
