by Katrina Liss
“Ewww, don't, my hair's standing on end.”
“I put it in the bushes across the road, okay?”
“I guess that's far enough.”
I look at him, waiting for the other, more important subject matter to arise. He munches his toast and drinks his coffee.
“About last night...” he starts.
Here we go.
“Yes?” My heart starts hammering like crazy.
“You may as well know... I got it on with Sandy.”
I crash to earth with a bang. “You did?” I can barely speak.
And then he did that with me, straight afterwards?
My heart goes cold. Until I realise, that's almost exactly what I did with Jackson, before him.
Confusion floods my whole being. Everything feels wrong and so bad.
“Yeah, I did, kinda...” he furthers.
“What's 'kinda' mean? Did you fuck her or not?”
“I kinda did. A few times. Not sure how many. I was a little bit pissed.”
“I see. So you're what… seeing her now, are you?”
“I don’t know. We haven’t spoken about it. But I figure if you and Jackson are on, it shouldn't be a problem.”
Is he being serious? I can't believe this. Or is he just being evil and rubbing my face in it?
“I guess it's not a problem. If Jackson's not a problem with you.”
“Hell, live and let live eh?” he laughs, in a hollow fashion.
“Yeah, great. Living, I mean,” I grind out, miserably.
“I'm getting odd vibes Kaydee. What’s up?”
My whole world spun on its axis last night. And he's not even mentioning it. He's scrubbed it from his mind. His brief and rather distasteful brunette fling. But I’m not his usual fluff, am I? It must have been so disappointing. Disappointing and shocking. So bad he passed out in horror.
I start to tear up and brim over, my sensitive self coming out in a rush. I run off to my room. As I get there my phone rings. I grab it and flop on the bed on my stomach.
It's Jackson.
“Hi,” I sniff.
“Are you okay?”
I clear my throat, and put on a brave and cheerful voice.
“Yeah, fine, you?
“Great, I've booked us a table at eight. I’ll pick you up at 7.30? It's a very expensive surprise, so dress up, okay?”
“Yeah, so looking forward to it. Oh… sorry Jackson, have to go, someone’s ringing the doorbell, see you tonight,” I lie.
I click off fast.
I'm so choked.
A strangled sob comes out of my mouth.
I turn over and get up. He's standing there, leaning against the doorway.
The tears start to flow properly.
“Now suppose you tell me what the tears are about, hmm?”
“I’m upset because you don't remember.”
“What don't I remember?
“Let me remind you. I was in your bed.”
“Yep, I remember that, and you telling me about the spider of course.”
“And what happened after…?”
“What? What happened after, Kaydee?” his voice rises in alarm.
“What d'you think happened?”
“Oh...no...” He says slowly.
“Oh...yes...” I reply in the same manner.
“I'm so sorry. But I swear I can't remember a damned thing.”
“Well that's a shame, because we became fuck buddies. Just about.”
“Just about?”
“You passed out on me after the first two strokes.”
“Jesus, I didn't? I don't know what to say.”
I start to cry uncontrollably. Because for one wonderful moment last night I thought he loved me and I loved him. And I do love him. But the 'he loves me' part was a drunken rambling.
“Leave me alone, please...” I sob.
“But why did you go along with it? Couldn't you tell I was drunk? I threw a half a bottle of scotch down my throat on the way home. I must have reeked of it. How did I even get it up after that? I'm amazed?”
“You seemed sober enough to me and everything was fully functional. And you said things. I said things. It was...”
He is watching my teary face intently, unblinking.
I am so destroyed inside. But I've gotta do this.
“It was what?” he coaxes, in a soft voice.
“It was nice and what I wanted at the time,” I begin. “But I must have been a bit drunk myself. Let's forget it, shall we? Not that you'll have trouble with doing that.”
His face shows instant relief.
I try to smile.
He pulls me towards him and gives me a hug.
I absorb his lovely fresh smell and die inside a little more.
“I'm really sorry,” he says, dropping a kiss on my head.
“Me too.”
Maybe we're both sorry, but for very different reasons.
He changes the subject. Back to real life and practicalities.
“We need to get some shopping in. Get dressed and we'll hit the big Tesco for a change then I'll make us a salad for lunch. Get some vitamins back inside us after the drinking. Besides, the car needs a run, I haven't used it for over a week.”
But I need to know one more thing.
“Who told you? About me and Jackson? Was it Nat?”
“No.”
I'm surprised.
“So who was it?”
“Well Sandy text me where you were.”
My stomach squeezes tightly with hurt.
“She did?”
“Yeah, I dropped Summer home early. I’m so done there. Then I came home and you weren't here so I texted you. But you didn't answer. Obviously busy, weren't you...” he says pointedly. “Anyway, I text Sandy and Nat... She told me you were at the party. She didn't say anything about Jackson being there though. I thought he was working. I came along to hang out with you. It was a big shock when I found you two in a lip-lock outside the house.”
I've let Sandy off temporarily. It would have been nice if she'd told me Mason was pitching up. Perhaps she thought I was upstairs with Jackson or I'd left already. I don't know, but it was rather remiss of her. I'll get to the bottom of that later. I feel she took advantage there. To get him in her little paws.
“Right....” I say, flicking my phone and noticing several texts, two from her. I'm not in the mood to tackle Sandy yet. I need to calm down a bit more. Think about it and let it all sink in. I'll read them later.
“Maybe you can tell me how you two happened?” His mouth is a grim line.
“How we met up or how many times we did it?” I know I'm fuelling the fire.
His face is stony.
“A summary will do. Spare me the details.”
I imagine he's thinking I'm a right slapper right now. He's precious girl buddy sleeping with his friend and then shagging him as well. But he did exactly the same with me and Sandy. Although being drunk and having no memory of it excuses him in his mind, I'm sure.
I put him straight. I don't want him to think that way about me.
“We met in the bar. And no, I didn't sleep with him. I was too upset about you two fighting. I came home to go to bed. But the spider got in first.”
Bloody spider, it was his fault. The whole fucking thing.
“You really didn't sleep with him?”
“No. Ask him if you don't believe me. He walked me to the door and left.”
“Now I'm feeling bad.”
“Good.”
It's nice to get my own back a little.
7
We're driving to Tesco when I final get to read my texts.
There's the one from him, Mason.
-where r ya babycakes?
A couple of texts from other people, one from my mum, all unimportant, and two from Sandy.
- M on the way.
I guess that was my warning.
And...
- WOOT! Got him cornered ;)
And
nothing since.
I text her back
- So c’mon how was it? Hot or what? x
No reply comes in. I know she’s at work, but she’s always got her phone tucked in her bra. Maybe she's busy. I drop my phone back in my bag and as I do so it bleeps with an incoming message.
I take a look.
- Doing a colour job. Speak later OK.
We wander around the supermarket aisles doing the shopping. This is another one of his good points. He loves getting the shopping in, choosing the food he'll cook, and finding little bargains that make his face light up in victory. I'm the designated trolley pusher and he's the goodies grabber. I wheel along mindlessly in his wake until he declares the shopping complete. We arrive at the checkout and he starts loading the stuff on the counter. I sneak a Cadbury's Chocolate Flake underneath the veggies and hope he doesn't notice.
But he does and gives me one of his looks. The frowning disapproving type.
“It's only one little bar of choccy, for fuck's sake,” I mutter.
“Yeah, maybe it is, but they all add up... and I have to lift it.”
I huff noisily.
Ooh.
“You know, you're a nasty bastard at times.”
“No... Just practical.”
“Well, if we're being 'practical' all of a sudden, perhaps you can pack the cigarettes up. It's expensive, unhealthy, and it stinks. Maybe you'd feel fitter and stronger and more able to lift my extra flake if you quit, hmm?”
“I'm fit and strong enough. My few smokes don't make any difference.”
“Maybe you should ask Jackson for some tips. Get some muscles. You could do with some more bulk,” I suggest, unpleasantly...
“I'm a dancer, not Arnold fucking Schwarzenegger. My muscle mass is fine.”
“Do you need any help packing?” The checkout girl says, eyeing us up warily with a little smile on her lips. She's obviously listening to our conversation and loving it. It's probably going to be the highlight of her day.
“S'OK... I'm on it...” Mason replies quickly, walking to the end to start packing.
I follow him with the trolley, pushing him out of the way.
“So what you're really saying is I'm bordering on the chubby size? It’s one little bit of chocolate, that's all... so fuck you.”
“Kaydee, you're so defensive at times. Chill. Out. You're beautiful. The perfect size woman and dancer.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Can you repeat that?”
“Oh, have the fucking choccy bar for God's sake. I’m not the choccy police.” He starts packing with a vengeance.
Suddenly, I don't want it anymore. The fattening bar of chocolate. I want to stay beautiful and perfect. Because that's what I am, apparently. In his eyes, anyway.
I turn around and return to the conveyor end of the checkout and put the chocolate back on the display shelf.
The checkout girl tuts at me noisily and rolls her eyes. I glare back at her. So what if I'm a pushover. She looks like she could do with giving up some chocolate herself.
He smiles widely at me, his eyes crinkling. My stomach flips 180 degrees. Twice.
“You can have a nice healthy banana on the way home instead,” he says. “Then I'm going to make you your favourite chicken Caesar salad.”
“Mmmm...I do love that. Am I allowed to have some crunchy croutons on top?”
“Yep... I've got baked ones... fat free, and one cal dressing to go with,” he announces with a self satisfied grin.
I stare, transfixed. My beating heart trying to escape my chest.
He's so lovely at times, I really could eat him. Stuff the salad. Just fill my mouth with Mason. And there's one part I'd particularly like to nibble at.
But it seems he's not mine to eat.
I love my friend Sandy, I really do. But I just can't bear the thought of him dating her. And doing those kinds of things. Hopefully Jackson will distract me enough to cope with it all, while it lasts. Maybe things will change when I set eyes on my gorgeous guy again. They'd better, or else I'm up shit street, emotionally.
As if thinking about her has pressed a magic Sandy button, my phone rings, Big Ben clanging loud and clear in my bag. Mason gives me an evil look as I answer it, abandoning the grocery packing.
“It's Sandy... keen to reveal all the gruesome details, I guess,” I taunt.
He grimaces and I snigger to myself.
I wander over to the seats, further along, out of his earshot, before answering her.
“Hi...”
“Sorry I took a while, I had a queue of customers…”
“So, you scored goal last night, so I hear.”
“What's he been saying?” There was a strange tone to her voice.
“Nothing, his lips are sealed tighter than Scrooge's safe. He did suggest it was more than once. That was all I could drag out of him.”
She laughed. A brittle kind of laugh.
“What's up? Didn't he set you on fire after all?” I ask, confused, but at the same time growing hopeful it might already be the end, before it really started.
“It's not that he didn't... but the whole thing wasn't how I imagined it would be. I took him upstairs with a bottle of scotch. He was kinda down. Talking about you two, and really pissed off. We sat on the bed and talked and drank, just a couple of sips each. Then I pushed it, I sat on his lap and kissed him. He wasn't responding wildly until I took my top off, and that finally got him going. Can you believe I had to seduce him?” she snorts down the phone...
“Well, never mind how it happened. You've had your wicked way now, haven't you?”
I'm going past tense... suggestively.
“I know I have, but it went downhill after that. I wanted a second round... but again... I did all the leg work... and he was kinda morose... thoughtful, swigging from that bottle of scotch like it was water. I took it off him in the end and shoved it under the pillow.”
“Oh, so not so memorable an occasion then?” I'm trying to feel some sympathy for her, but I'm perversely pleased it wasn’t a night made in heaven. My voice doesn't quite know where to pitch its tone.
“It wasn't all that... but the worse thing was, he called me by your name.” My heart soared. Was he really thinking of me while he was with her? “I know he lives with you and dances with you, blah, blah, and it's natural to make a mistake like that, but I found it really upsetting, to be honest.” Her voice breaks, and she snivels down the phone.
“Oh Sand, I'm sorry. Look, he was obviously a little trashed. See how it goes later. When are you seeing him again?”
“I don't know, he hasn't suggested anything yet. In fact he hasn't even called.”
“Well, you know what he's like. I've warned you enough times. He's not into relationships. Hasn’t gotta clue.”
“I guess not. But I thought, you know...that he might just like me a little bit more than the others.” Her voice cracks with repressed emotion.
“I'm sure he does,” I console her. I look at him packing, tight-mouthed and flicking his eyes up to where I'm sitting questioningly. I turn my back. “I'll let you go now, I'm out shopping. Call you later, okay?”
“Sure, make it around four, it gets quieter then.”
“Bye...” I tap off and bag my phone.
He's finishing up, paying with his card, and that done, we leave and wheel our stuff out to the car, silently.
The car loaded, we get in and he turns to face me.
“Well? Had a laugh at my expense, did you?” he scowls.
I don't remember laughing much, no...
“Why should we be laughing exactly?”
“I dunno, “ he shrugs, “I can't remember much detail, but I don't think it was all that great.”
“Mase, don't worry. She's fine. Just a little bit put out you weren't more enthusiastic, that's all. You didn't even call her today. Doesn't she deserve a call? This is my friend Sandy were talking about here, not a complete stranger.”
“I know. You’re sure she's
fine about me?”
“Absolutely. But the situation needs some rescuing and TLC. A quick phone call at least. Why don't you offer to take her out for lunch? It's her day off tomorrow.”
Why I'm suggesting this I don't know; to appear comfortable with them being together? Or maybe I'm masochistic and just want to rub my face in it.
“Yeah…I’ll call her after lunch.”
He brightens, starts the car engine up, and we set off home, through the noisy, busy hubbub that's inner London, back to our quiet little corner in Clapham.
8
We've finished our amazing salad, which damn near sets my taste buds alight, and I'm in the process of tidying up the kitchen.
“I think we should head over to the studio for a couple of hours?” he suggests as he stands watching me from the doorway.
“But we're doing full rehearsals tomorrow. Do we really need to?”
I was hoping I could flop all afternoon. Snooze and chill. Just in case I have a late night tonight.
“I want to focus on our solo parts, no distractions. You know what it's like when the others are around.”
“Well, okay, let's make it a quick session though. I want to be back in time to get a bath in before I go out,” I agree reluctantly. I'm really not sure I should be lying all over him when we're on our own. Just in case I lose it.
“You're going out with Jackson tonight?” He sounds very disappointed at this news. But then again, of course he would.
“Yeah, for dinner… somewhere posh, I hope.”
“So tonight's the big night of passion is it?”
I take a couple of steps forward and look at him, full eye contact.
“I don't know yet.”
I’ve already decided I won’t sleep with Jackson tonight. Maybe I won’t ever. There’s something bugging me and I’m not sure about me and him anymore. I think I got a little too carried away last night. It was like I was given the key to a beautiful secret garden and ran around like crazy exploring. But now the garden seems less appealing. It’s still beautiful of course, but I’m not sure I want to learn all its secrets.
But I’ll need to keep the drink to a minimum so I don’t lose my resolve. Because he is way too hot.
“I really don't want to see you get involved with him and get hurt.”
