Beautiful Malice: A Novel

by Rebecca James

  I try hard to concentrate on the menu. I’m not very hungry—the excitement of being newly in love has ruined my appetite—but I don’t want Alice to sense my disapproval, how judgmental I am. Lately, whenever I’ve been around her, I’ve felt like an older sister, a disapproving and cranky older sister.

  I’m not even sure why Alice’s new relationship should bother me. They’re both adults, after all. As long as nobody gets hurt, the age difference shouldn’t really matter. It’s just that with Alice, things are never as simple as they first seem.

  “He’s not married, is he?” I say, and I can’t help it, I sound suspicious.

  “No.” Alice pokes her tongue out. “He’s not. Bitch.”

  “Sorry. Okay. He’s not married. That’s good.” And then I grin. “So what’s wrong with him? How did he get to be so old without getting married?”

  “He was married. His wife died.”

  “Oh, no. Really? How horrible.”

  “I guess so.” Alice shrugs. “But not for me.”

  The waitress comes to the table, and I order coffee and a sandwich. Alice orders more coffee.

  “You’re not eating?” I ask.

  “No. I’ve got no appetite.” She leans forward and presses her hand against mine, squeezes. “I think I’m in love, Katherine. I’ve never felt like this. Never. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I’m overdosing on adrenaline. I can hardly even read a magazine, let alone Shakespeare. All I do is wait for him to call. It’s as if I’m only half alive when I’m not with him, in some kind of weird limbo land. You know, I honestly think he might be the true love of my life.”

  And though I’m feeling almost exactly the same way about Mick, I’m surprised to find that I have no urge to confide in Alice, no desire to tell her about all the glorious new feelings pulsing through my veins, or how much things have changed since I last saw her. In fact, I’m shocked to realize that I want to keep the whole thing from her, keep it safe, hidden. Mine.

  I smile and listen while she tells me everything—where they met, how they ended up together. But I tell her nothing about Mick. Nothing.

  26

  There are only twenty days to go before school ends. There’s no way I can concentrate on schoolwork when Mick and I are together, and so we both agree that the best thing is not to see each other in person at all. Just for twenty days. It seems reasonable at the time. Easy, even. But not seeing him is harder than I expected, and I miss him so much that I feel it like a physical pain.

  I set myself up comfortably, all my books and papers around me, at my desk at home. Vivien is heading off on a monthlong business trip to Europe soon. But she’s home now, having a rare few weeks without any travel, and she takes care of all of the domestic stuff while I study. She cooks us delicious, healthy meals and insists on doing all the dishes so I’m free to study without interruption. I finish each day at about five and go for a walk to clear my head, then I eat dinner and go back to my room for a few more hours of work.

  I’m usually too tired and brain-dead to study much past nine, and when I’ve showered and put my pajamas on I hop into bed and call Mick. I always feel slightly nervous before I call, afraid that I’ll interrupt him, that he’ll be annoyed or unfriendly or for some reason less than happy to hear from me. But every time I call he answers almost immediately with my name, Katherine, and he always sounds relieved, joyful, as if he has been looking forward to hearing my voice as much as I’ve been looking forward to hearing his.

  He asks me each night what I’ve been working on, how I’m feeling, if I’m ready for finals. He tells me about his day, how his band practice went. If he has a gig that night he always sounds a little more upbeat, distracted. My favorite nights are the nights when he is at home, too, in bed, and we talk to each other for an hour or more. We talk until our voices grow soft and sleepy and his tender good night is the last thing I hear before I close my eyes.

  On the afternoon of my last exam, history, he is there waiting for me when I walk out of the examination hall. I hadn’t expected him to be there, and I feel myself blush as I walk toward him. I feel instantly unattractive and girlish, and I’m acutely aware that some of the other students are staring at us. But Mick smiles, grabs my hand, pulls me close, and wraps his arms around me. And in Mick’s arms I am all at once indifferent to what other people think. I no longer give a damn what I look like. He loves me, and that is all that matters. We go straight back to Mick’s place, to his bedroom, and when he wraps his arms around me and kisses me, I am overcome. Lost.

  Several hours later, when it has become dark and I’ve woken from a deep, contented sleep, Mick brings me a sandwich and watches me as I eat. I’m hungry and eat quickly, and when I’ve finished, Mick lies down beside me and makes love to me again. When we’ve finished, when we are lying side by side, face-to-face, I begin to cry.

  “What is it?” Mick frowns. “What’s wrong?”

  “This is too good. Too much. I’m too happy. It’s scary.”

  He laughs, kisses me. “Don’t be dumb. You’re allowed to be happy, Katherine.”

  “Am I? I’m not sure, sometimes I think …”

  “No.” He shakes his head and kisses me again so that I can’t speak. His voice is urgent, almost panicked. “Shhhh. Don’t say anything. You’ll bring bad luck. You’re happy. I’m happy. It’s not too good to be true, people are happy all the time. It’s normal. It’s good. Don’t think about bad stuff. Just don’t.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Okay.” And in the face of Mick’s superstitiousness, I keep my concerns to myself. I pretend to believe that I deserve happiness as much as anybody else.

  I go home to sleep that night because Vivien is leaving the next morning and I want to have breakfast with her and say good-bye.

  “Did you have fun last night?” she says, tucking into the scrambled eggs I insisted on making.

  “Yes. It was fantastic.” And there must be something in my voice, an extra note of happiness or excitement, because she looks at me quizzically, her eyebrows raised.

  “That good, huh?”

  “Yeah.” And I look down at my plate, hope my cheeks aren’t as pink as they feel. “Just so good to be finished with exams. So good to be free.” I don’t tell her about Mick. I can’t. I’m afraid that talking about it too soon may jinx it, may cause everything to unravel. And though I’m pretty sure she would never betray a confidence, I’m not ready for my parents to know.

  “Remember to call your mom and dad while I’m gone. You’re looking much happier lately,” she says as she hugs me good-bye. “So much happier.”

  “I guess I am,” I say.

  Mick has a gig that night. His band is playing from ten until one at a bar nearby. We spend the day together at his place and he leaves for work at eight. I stay behind to have a shower and get dressed and wait for Philippa. She arrives at half past nine with Danni, a friend of hers from school. They’ve brought a bunch of flowers for me, a congratulatory gift for finishing my exams.

  “Well done,” Philippa says, leaning in to kiss me on the cheek, “for making it through all those years of torture.”

  “No more high school,” I say. “Ever. It’s hard to believe.”

  “So?” Danni asks. “How do you think you did?”

  “Okay, I guess.” I shrug. “I’m just glad it’s all over.”

  “I’ll bet Mick’s glad, too.” Philippa grins, elbowing me. “He’s pined for you like a lovesick puppy.”

  Though Mick has already told me how much he missed me, hearing it from Philippa makes it seem even more real, more precious.

  The band is already playing when we get there, and I sit at our table, a cold drink in my hands, and stare at Mick shamelessly. He is playing, concentrating, his face as intent and serious and closed as it was the first time I saw him. Danni and Philippa talk, try and involve me in the conversation, but I’m distracted, waiting for Mick to notice me. Danni and Philippa laugh. Philippa squeezes my leg; she is happy for me, happy for
her brother.

  Eventually he turns our way. He grins when he sees me, his enormous, transformative smile, and my heart pounds in my chest with grateful love. I want to rush onto the stage and kiss him, embrace him, hold him close. But it’s almost just as good watching him play, knowing that it’s me he’s thinking of, me that has made his face open up like that, me he will come to when he’s finished.

  As the band is playing the final song of the first set, Mick keeps his eyes on mine, and as soon as it’s over he leaves the stage and comes to my table. He says hi to Philippa and Danni, reaches out for my hand, and drags me to the stage. He takes me to the back, where it’s dark.

  He pushes me against the wall, presses his body against mine, puts his hand on the side of my head, buries his fingers in my hair.

  “You came,” he says.

  “Yes,” I say, and my voice is feather-soft, breathless with love and lust and incredulous joy.

  “I missed you.” And I hear it in his voice, too, this mad happiness.

  “Yes.” And there is little else to say, just yes. Yes.

  And then his mouth is on mine, his tongue searching, his lips soft, the clean, sweet smell of his breath now familiar. And I can feel him against me, his desire, and I want him, too, and I lean toward him, showing him that I feel the same. And yet I feel no great sense of urgency for the night to be over. I’m going to appreciate it, every moment, enjoy the anticipation, savor the fact that we will be together later. That there is better yet to come.

  And then a familiar song comes on the jukebox.

  “Rachel used to listen to this.” I move back and laugh, rock my body in time with the beat. It’s an invigorating, happy song, impossible to ignore. “She loved it. She always used to dance to it.”

  Mick takes my hand in his. “Come on, then.”

  We go back onto the stage and jump down to the crowded dance floor. We dance, our hands clasped together tightly, moving in toward each other and away again. Our lips meet occasionally, and we taste each other, salty, sweet, our bodies pressed close. We separate and Mick twirls me around until I get dizzy and he has to hold me up while I laugh. We dance to song after song until we’re both hot and sweaty and our palms are sticky. But we don’t care, we don’t want to let go. Neither of us can stop smiling.

  The music is loud, so I don’t hear my cell phone but I feel the vibration against my hip. A message. I ignore it, plan to check it later, but a few minutes later it’s buzzing again. I take the phone from my pocket, hold it up to show Mick. He kisses me. I go to the bathroom so that I’ll be able to hear the messages.

  It’s Alice.

  Katherine. Call me. She sounds as if she might be crying. Where are you? I can never find you lately. Please call me. Please. I really need to see you.

  I call her cell phone.

  “Katherine. Thank God,” she answers.

  “What’s up? Are you okay?”

  “No. Not really.”

  “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

  “I’m bored. I’ve got nothing to do. My boyfriend is busy and can’t see me tonight.”

  I roll my eyes. Only Alice could make boredom seem so urgent. And though I really don’t want to leave Mick, I say, “Do you want me to come over? Bring you some chocolate?”

  “I don’t know what I want.” She sighs. “Where are you? It sounds funny. There’s an echo.”

  “I’m out. At a bar. The William Hotel. I’m in the bathroom. The music’s too loud to hear anything.”

  “Oh.” She is quiet again. And then: “Who are you with?”

  “Philippa. And a girl named Danni. And Philippa’s brother.” I avoid saying Mick’s name. “But I can leave. I’ll come over to your place. I’ll bring something to help cheer you up.”

  “No. No. I don’t want to ruin your night. I’ll come out. I’ll meet you there.”

  “But it’s so noisy.” And as I’m speaking I realize how much I don’t want her to come. I want to keep Mick and Philippa, my new friendship, my new love, away from Alice. I’m afraid she’ll ruin everything, taint it somehow. “We won’t be able to talk.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” she says. “I don’t want to talk. I want to have some fun.”

  I go back to the bar and sit at the table with Philippa and Danni. The band is back onstage, and Mick winks at me from behind his drums as I take my seat. Philippa and Danni, who are listening to the music and tapping their feet, both smile at me. I smile back. But I feel different now; my sense of elation has disappeared. The thought of Alice coming has made me feel tired and mildly anxious.

  Alice is wearing the shortest dress I’ve ever seen. It’s sequined in silver and barely covers her underwear. She’s wearing boots that come up to her knees. She looks fantastic, sexy and stunning, and I notice heads turn as she makes her way to our table.

  She pulls a chair right up next to mine. She doesn’t look at or acknowledge Philippa or Danni but immediately turns sideways so that she faces me.

  “Hey,” she says, leaning close so that I can hear her. Her face is made up and glossy, beautiful. “This is a bit of dive, isn’t it? Let’s go somewhere else. Just you and me.”

  Before I have the chance to answer her, Philippa leans over the table and nudges Alice.

  “Aren’t you going to say hello?” She has to shout to be heard over the band’s noise.

  “Hi, Philippa.”

  “This is Danni,” Philippa says.

  “Hi,” Danni shouts. “God, I love your dress! And those boots! You look totally hot. Where do you get your clothes?”

  Danni’s flattery obviously pleases Alice, because her body language changes instantly. She turns toward Danni and smiles. And as the two of them become engrossed in a conversation about clothes, Alice clearly forgets her desire to leave. She drags her chair over closer to Danni’s. Both of them are absorbed and animated. Philippa looks at me, rolls her eyes.

  Alice and Danni spend the rest of the set talking. Philippa and I sit and listen to the music; we don’t talk, but we look at each other and smile every now and again. Philippa’s smile is full of sisterly pride.

  When the set is over, Mick stands behind me, leans over, and kisses my neck.

  “I’m just getting a drink,” he says. “Come with me, Katherine.”

  He takes my hand as I stand up and push back my chair. I notice Alice look up at us curiously. She stops talking and stares, her eyes wide, as I turn away.

  When we return to the table, Alice is leaning back in her chair; she has her arms folded across her chest. She is smiling.

  “So? You and him?” She looks at me pointedly, ignoring Mick. “Philippa has been kind enough to fill me in.”

  Alice is clearly upset and offended that I’ve kept this from her. I feel the color rising in my cheeks.

  “Alice, this is Mick,” I say. “Mick, Alice.”

  Mick smiles. “Hi.”

  “You play the drums?” Alice asks him.

  “Yep.”

  “I love the drums, just love them. But I can’t actually comment on your performance. I didn’t even notice you up there before. Sorry. But nobody told me you knew Katherine. I didn’t even know you were Philippa’s brother.”

  Mick doesn’t respond; instead, he looks at me, clearly wondering who this odd girl is, why she seems mildly hostile. He picks up his glass and takes a large gulp of his beer. He reaches out for my hand and stands, tugging me up with him. He pulls me to the dance floor.

  He buries his face in my neck. We sway to the music, our bodies in rhythm. I breathe him in, let the smell of him, the feel of his body, the beat of the music, fill my senses.

  We dance until Mick has to go back onstage for the final set. When I return, Alice has moved. She’s sitting at a table behind us with two men. She is animated—talking and gesturing energetically. Both men look charmed, captivated. They are both leaning toward her, vying for her attention. I’m amazed at how easily she can forget about her new boyfriend, the “true love of he
r life,” but I’m feeling far too happy to worry about Alice, and right now she just makes me smile. I try to catch her eye, but she doesn’t look my way, doesn’t notice me, she’s so preoccupied with her new conquests.

  At closing time we all leave together. Alice has linked arms with the two men from the table. The three of them are walking ahead of us. Her voice is loud, happy. She turns around and looks back at me.

  “I’m going out with Simon and Felix,” she calls out in a singsong voice, loud enough so that everyone around us can hear.

  I laugh. “Okay,” I call back.

  Alice and Felix and Simon head straight to the taxi stand and join the line of people waiting. Mick’s bike is parked just a little farther down the road, and we have to pass by them to reach it.

  “Oooh, look, a cancan line,” Alice says loudly, peering down the length of the line. Some of the people waiting laugh. I hear someone else mutter a weary “Oh, for God’s sake, shut up.”

  And then she starts kicking her legs out and singing the melody of the cancan. The two men beside her support her weight as she kicks higher and higher. Each kick reveals more of the top of her shapely thighs, her underpants. “Nah nah, na-na-na-na, nah nah, na-na-na-na, nah nah,” she sings, enjoying the attention, indifferent to the disapproving stares.

  When a taxi arrives, Alice and her two new friends hop into the cab.

  “Bye-bye, everyone,” she calls out to the crowd as the taxi pulls away from the curb. “Have fun. Bye-bye.”

  “Who is she?” Mick asks, shaking his head, a bemused expression on his face.

  “A friend of mine,” I say. And I wonder why I feel as if I’m lying.

  27

  “That was so fun, Mommy. So fun.” Sarah looks up at me. Her cheeks and her nose are red with cold, but her eyes are bright. “Can I do it again? By myself this time?”