“To remind me what it’s like to live with nothing,” Sophie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Expecting a sympathetic look when she met his gaze, he just looked at her affectionately, “I may not be deserving of what I have but I appreciate it.”
“Sophie,” he said her name, and it lingered in the air tangible, he put his hand on her arm, she moved it and he retracted. “How did you end up living on the streets?” Her face became taught again and she finished her wine. He started to refill but she nodded no.
“Because I… had to leave home. I couldn’t stay there anymore. I didn’t go straight to living on the streets,” she folded and unfolded a napkin, “It was a gradual process of things costing more than I was making and supplies dwindling. Eventually I lost everything I had.”
“So you went back home,” he leaned over, placing his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together.
“God, no,” she looked as if he had slapped her face. “I could never do that, not ever,” Oliver opened his mouth, “Don’t ask why.” He snapped his jaws shut.
“So how did you go from living on the streets to thousands of pounds on your bed? Does it have something to do with the envelope at your door?” What he thought her to be by profession and what she seemed to be around him was a contradiction, maybe he was completely wrong after all. He was reminded what he told Jacki, that anyone could play God, the gentle balance of life and death.
She turned to put the glass on the table, avoiding his look because of the lie she was about to tell, “No.”
Her back was to him but he could still distinguish, it wasn’t just in her face but her voice as well, “You’re lying.”
“Damn it Oliver. Don’t ask me questions you know I have to…lie…to,” the wine made her tongue loose.
He tossed his head back, laughing openly, “Why don’t you just tell me? You know I know.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Are you going to try to find Sydney then,” he asked, still smiling.
“How do I find her when she doesn’t want to be found? She knows where I am, why be so allusive?”
“Maybe she’s letting you know that she’s around by leaving the picture first, possibly building up her own courage to see you. Meanwhile she’s become your guardian angel.”
“Well if being my guardian angel results in bleeding, I think I can take better care of myself,” she stared into the fire, “Still, somehow…it’s comforting to know she’s there. If I look around, I’ll find her, if she’s watching me, and she must be, I’ll find her. Our paths have to cross at some point,” Sophie stood arms crossed staring out at the street below. No one lingered unless they were deep in the shadows.
“There’s only one person that can solve that mystery,” standing behind her, he looked out at the city scape while she looked down towards the street.
“And under the circumstances, I think I’ll wait till she wants to introduce herself. Don’t know if I can take anymore family.”
Oliver picked up on her strained family ties. She had yet to mention a family member without a look of hatred, disdain, or pain. Something terrible happened to her, there was no doubt about it. He was surer about that than her profession.
Oliver checked his watch, it was getting late. He wanted to stay but thought it best to leave her be. If he overstayed his welcome, there’s no telling how much rebound there would be to the progress tonight. “I should go,” he sounded disappointed.
Cleaning up the mess on the table, he took all to the kitchen, putting the plates in the sink and the food in her fridge. “Looks like that’s the most food you’ve had in your fridge in a while. Do you want me to check your stitches before I go?”
“No need.”
He noticed a sketchbook on the side table and picked it up, she made a motion to protest and he stopped, “May I?”
She shrugged pretending not to care but watched his face while he flipped through it. The sketches were of places around the city he recognized and some he didn’t, buildings, landmarks, she frequented the many parks. She captured the emotions, happiness of people that were there, couples and children. He smiled at her and then back to the drawings. It seemed that she was so melancholy, obviously she had issues with her family, her profession morbid, she lived in a cheap run down flat, and as far as he could tell was a total recluse, but that wasn’t what she sketched or painted.
There was no way he could kiss her, even though he wanted to with every fibre of his being. “My aunt has invited me to her house. I’ve mentioned you and I’m long overdue for a visit.”
Her eyes grew wide, taking the sketch book from him, “Why would you mention me to your aunt?”
“That’s what friends do, talk about what’s going on in their lives. She’s wonderful, you’ll like her. She takes care of me and has become my confidant since my mum died.”
“Oh Oliver, are you saying you want me to go with you,” she tried not to look terrified.
“How do you think people learn about each other? She’s already waiting in anticipation to meet you and I know you wouldn’t want to disappoint her or me.”
“Hang on, why would you make the assumption that I care?”
“You’re a nice person, I know you don’t believe that but you are.”
“We barely know anything about each other.”
“You reveal more than you know or probably want to.”
Her back stiffened as she thought about it, “So you’re saying this is one of those normal things that people do?”
She did it again, revealing to him or is it perhaps that he paid so much attention to her knowing that was the way he was going to get to know her, not by what she said but what she inadvertently revealed. Looking down at her and smiling he said, “Yes, exactly, a normal thing that people do. So I can spend time with them…and you. Sometimes my schedule is so tight; it’s hard to fit everything in.”
She sighed. Why on earth did he think she would want to? They weren’t familiar enough to meet family.
“It’s not going out, like a date,” he said, appealing, still she hesitated. “She’s even a better cook than I am not that you’ve tasted much of my cooking…yet,” still she hesitated. Her instincts telling her to say no but it’s what normal people do, normal and then he said, “I’ll take you on the London Eye one night as a thank you.”
Her eyes lit up, she tried to hide it, shrugging, “Alright.” He turned to go when she stopped him.
“Oliver, I know you want to be my friend. I haven’t had one for a long time; it will take a while to get used to the idea.”
“That’s alright, Sophie. Everything will happen just as it should when it should,” he said putting his coat on.
“What about the things that should never have happened in the first place?” She turned away, not expecting an answer.
Oliver stared at the painting across the room, looking at the beauty, evoking the pain of the loss of his mother, contemplating an answer, “Maybe that’s where you’re wrong.”
Sophie turned quickly to face him; he tied the scarf around his neck, ready for the challenge he saw welling up in her. “Wrong? Wrong, am I?”
“The things you think shouldn’t have happened have yielded one of two things, or both,” he paused when her eyebrow shot up in speculation. “Pure creation,” he nodded towards the paintings, “and…,” damn he shouldn’t have said anything; he should have let the question hang in the air unanswered.
She looked over at the paintings, not seeing so much of what he was referring to and then slowly faced him again, “And?”
“Strength to ascend from under whatever agony, hurt, or anguish you might feel to find the treasures life can bring you. Sometimes it takes a little assistance from someone else to see it…or feel it.”
Sophie would have thought that he was making up an explanation to show off any wisdom he thought he had but he was relaying to himself and her, trying to convince himself of the same thing, she could see it.<
br />
Oliver could tell she comprehended what he was saying, both lost in thought for a minute when she finally replied, “That’s a quixotic notion, Oliver.”
“Oh?”
Misinterpreting his remark as a request for clarification on, “Quixotic, romantic, idealistic,” she gave him the definition.
“I know what it means,” actually he didn’t and his lips curled in amusement at this mysterious young woman. “I’ll ring you.” And before she could contradict it, he was out the door.
Chapter 13: Sydney’s Threat
Owen hovered on the corner, crouching, hiding the pills; not wanting anyone to know he had them. You never knew when someone else might want some. He felt like they were all staring at him, wanting some of his stash, wanting the same high but they were his. His hands shook, poised to pop them in his mouth when he saw her again making a line straight for him. Stuffing the pills back in his pocket, he stood.
One by one, she pulled on the fingers of her gloves, taking them off and shoving them in the pockets of her leather jacket; she had her poker face on today. A few days ago she was confused with what he was telling her more than he was confused by the questions he answered knowing bloody well she knew more than he did. It seemed that she was testing him. Not like she was then, when she looked at him with pity and then a twinge of anger and completely….
Her left hand shot out so fast and slapped him across the cheek, he didn’t see it coming and the cracking sound echoed throughout the alley. He could feel eyes on them. Her hand had to have stung as much as his face but she gave no indication of it. “What the fuck?”
“I said nothing about knives, did I? In fact I specifically remember saying to chase.”
“I apologized for that day before yesterday and you were fine with it. Right as rain you were. I said I was sorry but those fucking pills you gave me, made me crazy.” His hand was rubbing the welt on his cheek.
For the first time her face showed an emotion, only briefly and that was it. “She was here? You talked to her?” There it was again, that incredulous look, like she couldn’t believe it.
“Are you insane? You were here asking questions about what you told me to do and I did what you told me to do,” his hands were pleading, palms up at her.
“So even after that, she came right back here and spoke to you? How do I not know….And what did you tell her?” She advanced on him and he hunched against the wall.
“Wait…,” he paused trying to make sense of the whole thing and then the cloudiness of his muddled mind cleared. “You’re twins. There are two of you,” the words came out slowly, as a revelation. He smiled revealing the yellowed teeth and cracked lips.
Owen cowered when she grabbed his lapels, “Look at me Owen.” He kept his head down but looked up at her, ready to brace himself for another attack, the last one still stinging a bit. “If she comes here again and you lay a finger on her,” if he didn’t know better he would have thought her eyes turned black, they were so dark and the fury filled up behind them, “they will find your body on the shore of the Thames and it will look like a suicide. Do you understand me?”
Nodding his head he didn’t know what else to do.
“You believe me don’t you?” He nodded again.
She stood up straight and released him, pulling a plastic bag out of her pocket with a wad of cash and some pills. “I need you to do something else for me.” He reached for the bag and she pulled away, “You’ll do what I ask in exactly the way that I tell you.”
“If it has anything to do with the other one you can forget it.”
“No, never again. I want you to follow someone. Under no circumstances are you to interact with him. You come back here next week and tell me what you saw, where he went and what he did.” She handed him the bag and turned on her heel, flipping the hair over her shoulder, ignoring the hands outreached to her and disappeared around the corner. He noticed the redhead falling in step behind her but thought nothing else about it more interested in the gift he was given, putting a tab under his tongue. He closed his eyes and slid down the wall and crouched low until it hit him.
Chapter 14: Josie Non-Incognito
Josie turned her nose down at the outcasts of the alley that the dark haired woman walked down impassively. She huddled at the opposite corner and watched her strut toward the young man at the other end striking him across the face.
Josie snapped pictures of them both, she watched him cower from her. Then she handed him a bag and turned towards Josie, hiding back around the corner. She walked past Josie within inches, the look on her face expressed nothing of the action she had just witnessed and Josie had to respect her for the strength she exhibited.
More and more as she watched this woman, the more enthralled she was with her. It seemed that she went all over the city, running Josie ragged only talking to a few people, in between her frequent visits with Declan with the door closed.
She seemed to inhabit a flat in the city centre and an old abandoned house on the outskirts of town. This constant running around was getting on Josie’s nerves.
Back at the office she confronted Declan, “How long am I doing this for? What am I doing this for?”
Declan was annoyed, “For me remember.”
“I know but…she’s all over the place. Meanwhile work is piling up and you’re not exactly paying me for overtime.”
Declan walked past her and shut the door behind her, taking the camera from around her neck, she thought he was going to kiss her but he just went behind his desk and hooked the camera up to his computer, downloaded the pictures and then set the camera aside.
“When is this going to be done,” she asked, agitated and tired, walking up to the desk to try to get his attention.
“When I say it is,” he said flipping through the pictures. “You haven’t really brought me anything I can…hold on,” he turned the screen, “she goes here,” indicating the decrepit house across town.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“I don’t know, she went there last Tuesday, today,” she was looking up at the corner of the ceiling trying to remember.
“No, I mean how often. Does she go on particular days?”
“No, everything is random with her, everything,” she lifted her hands hopelessly and let them drop back to her sides.
“Who’s this,” he said looking at the homeless man she had slapped across the face.
“How should I know who he is? She walked up to him, slapped him…”
“Slapped him,” he looked amused.
“Yes, slapped him, talked to him, gave him a bag and left.”
“Where is this?”
“It’s an alley; I’ll have to show you, I can’t remember any street names.”
He grunted at her, not sure if he was satisfied or dissatisfied. “I’m tired Declan, can I just go home now?”
He stood up, taking off his blazer and approaching her, she really wasn’t in the mood but she typically didn’t deny him, she still wanted that promotion, and he said she would be rewarded. “Thank you,” he said and she was shocked, his hand unbuttoning her blouse, kissing her neck, his fingertips brushing the curve of her breasts. “Tomorrow you’ll take me there.”
“Alright,” he kissed her, his mouth roaming freely over hers, his hand undoing her trousers and pulling them down with her underwear. Turning her, his fingers bit into her upper arms when he bent her over the desk. Her legs constricted by the trousers around her ankles confined there by lace ups, she tried to push the shoes off to get her trousers off but they wouldn’t go and he rammed inside her, striking her hips painfully against the edge of the desk, his fingers digging into her upper arms.
She didn’t cry out at first, the sensation of him inside her overpowered the pain of the desk pushing into her hip bones but after so many thrusts, she cried out, reaching behind her trying to push at him but he held her wrist to her back and she yielded. Staying as loose as she could, pushing back against him
, fuelling him on only to keep from hitting the desk harder. Her free hand clenched, her nails biting into her palms.
He quickened and one yelp, he collapsed on her, kissing her neck and then pulling out of her. Pushing up, she held back tears, thinking the brunette would slap his face, so why didn’t she do the same to Declan?
Adjusting her clothing, she grabbed the camera and reached the door but stopped. Walking over to him, his eyebrow lifted in speculation, and she slapped his face. Not very hard, it probably hurt her hand more than it hurt his face but there was satisfaction in it and she left him stupefied.
***
Josie stood shivering in her jeans and short leather jacket, her red hair pulled back into a ponytail watching the woman and man sitting on the steps sipping their warm coffee while she stood holding a camera, shivering. At least the sun was warm, when the wind wasn’t blowing.
It wasn’t the large crowd at Covent Garden that the summer weather draws but warm enough for passers-by to stop shopping long enough to be entertained. The small crowd laughed at the street performer except the three of them.
They were smiling and laughing with each other, enjoying each other’s company and engrossed in conversation. He was older by more than a few years than she, maybe even old enough to be her father but he was still handsome with wavy hair and bright blue eyes that tilted up slightly at the corners. Like Declan, there was fifteen years between him and Josie.
The woman spoke and then gave all her attention to him when he spoke. They were immersed in conversation but still applauded taking their cue from the crowd around them. Josie however snapped photos of both.
Declan called her Sophie. Josie thought she was lewd when they first met but she seemed to be amiable really and not the threat that Declan obviously thought she was as she leaned towards the man. He was well dressed in a suit and his lips curled at the corners when he looked at her.
On the step, the smells of warm food from the surrounding restaurants made Josie hungry and she shivered when a strong breeze blew through, questioning more and more why she was doing Declan’s bidding.
The Poison Morality Page 11
