Trust Me (Beggar's Choice #2)

by Lily Morton

  I don’t know where this rage has come from or when it burns out for both of us, but suddenly the tension in his body transmutes into gentleness and long, slow, languid thrusts, and he grabs my face, gently sucking and licking into my mouth as I moan and caress his long body. We don’t last long, the feeling is too intense, and suddenly I’m gripping his arse digging my nails in as I come, and he gives a brutal, animal like groan and I feel heat wash me as he spills inside me.

  For a few minutes we lie there panting and groaning as he twitches inside me, until I feel his lax body suddenly tighten with tension and his muscles tense, preparatory to him coming out of me. I’m suddenly filled with fear that this is it - the end. It’s this that releases my guard on my mouth and to my horror I hear myself say quietly, “I love you.” For a whole second I hope that I’ve gone mad and that I just said this in my head, but then he tenses all over and I know that he heard me.

  “What?” he asks in a jagged voice.

  “I love you.” I say it firmly this time and as less of a question. I’ve done it now so I might as well make a good job of it. I do love him and he deserves to know it because my pride is gone. For a brief second I think that everything is going to be alright because his arms band tight around me while his head nuzzles into my neck and he inhales sharply, smelling my hair. I tighten my arms and legs around him, but then suddenly he’s out of me and he rolls away and off the bed.

  Gathering his clothes he stands for a second staring at me in the dim light of early morning. There’s absolutely no expression at all on his face and if it wasn’t for a tic going fast in his jaw I would think him utterly unmoved.

  Feeling completely exposed I gather the sheet over my breasts and it seems to break the spell. “You shouldn’t,” he says coldly and then he’s gone, the click of the door echoing what I know is the sound of a piece of my heart breaking that nobody but me will ever hear.

  Next day

  It isn’t until I’m on stage in front of ten thousand people as multi-coloured ticker tape cascades from the ceiling that I realise fully that I’ve lost him. He managed to avoid me for most of the day by closeting himself in Charlie’s suite, so I doggedly spent the day packing up my stuff while my mind constantly replayed the events of the previous day and night. I know that something is going on and that he’s pushing me away, but by the evening a numbness and a welcome sense of inevitability has spread over me. Whatever is going to happen is going to happen and I know that nothing I can do will change this now, and that’s almost a comfort.

  However, it’s not until we’re on stage that I fully know he’s gone from me, and the crippling pain tells me that underneath everything I’d still had hope. Well that’s definitely gone now as I watch him crouching down by the stage, exchanging heated looks with a beautiful blonde in a skimpy top who earlier on had been flashing her tits at him. He runs his hand down her face bending low to whisper something in her ear, and I absently rub my chest where the pain is centred. He doesn’t even spare me a glance in the Siberia corner of the stage that I’ve been relegated to, away from him.

  Do you remember when someone was mean to you at school in the playground and you were left alone, frantically trying to pretend to everyone watching that you weren’t bothered? Well imagine doing that in front of ten thousand people and you’ll get an idea of how I feel. I ignore the concerned looks from the other boys and concentrate on singing my little heart out like the good girl that I am, but I feel my voice crack as she pulls his head towards her locking her lips with his. Even then I wait like a sad twat for him to push her away, but instead he laughs and goes back for more as the crowd roars its approval.

  Finally, finally it’s over and we leave the stage. I become aware of someone standing next to me and looking up I see Bram, his forehead lined with concern. “Are you alright sweetheart?” he mutters, the Irish in his voice more pronounced as he shoots killer glances at Sid and the groupie, who I’m horrified to see has been pulled off stage with us. I feel like throwing up because never in a million years would I have thought that he could do this to me. When I thought of us finishing and I’d thought about it a lot, I’d always thought that he respected me enough, that I was sort of special enough to him that he’d do it gently. This is cruelty on a level that I’d never imagined. I guess at the end of the day I’m not special at all to him, and he’s just another fucking bastard.

  Becoming aware that I’ve been silent for too long and that Bram’s looking at me like he’s going to have to pick me up from the floor, I smile weakly. I will not break down in front of all these people because I have more pride than that I repeat to myself. He will not break me.

  “I’m fine.” I’m proud that it comes out steadily, rather than the pained scream that’s waiting to emerge from deep inside me. “Dumped for skanky groupie, I think you’d label this feeling,” I add on, and he slings his arm around me, his body hard and hot.

  “I’m sorry Nell,” he says in my ear. “You deserve so much more than this.”

  I look at him because for a second I actually thought that he was going to do what he normally does, and offer excuses and counsel me into forgiving Sid, tell me how good we are together. The fact that he doesn’t, really strikes the death knell, and now that I come to think of it none of the boys have said anything to me about his odd behaviour, which tells me that this has been a topic of conversation amongst them today.

  I think it’s this that really stiffens my spine. I’ve always been proud and the thought that Sid has discussed us and shared details with them over the problem of dealing with me, makes me wince deep inside. Suddenly determined I look at Bram. “I think I’m going to go,” I say softly, and he flinches.

  “I wish you didn’t have to. I don’t want to say goodbye to you Nell. You mean too much to me.”

  I smile sadly and cup his cheek. “You mean a lot to me too Bram. You remind me a bit of Sam my brother and I wish that I didn’t have to go too. I’ve loved every second of being with you all. You’ve all been so welcoming, and for a while it’s felt like home, but I can’t stay here now. I need to go.” He nods sadly. “Will you say goodbye to everyone for me?”

  “You’re not going to do it?” he asks sharply. “Don’t just slip away.”

  “It’s for the best Bram. I hate goodbyes and these are particularly awkward ones. I don’t want to put anyone in a position where they feel they have to get involved in this. Please just tell them from me that I will always consider them good friends, and thank them for giving me the chance to do something that I’ve delayed doing for a while.” He hugs me tight to him and I feel his heart hammering underneath his t-shirt.

  “Shit Nell, it shouldn’t be like this. I have so much that I could say and I want to so badly.” He hesitates. “Fuck it Nell, Sid …”

  I stop him by putting my fingers over his mouth. “Don’t do that Bram. Don’t break his confidence. He needs you too much to do that to him.” He looks at me imploringly and I smile sadly. “It doesn’t matter anyway. It’s done with now. Nobody has ever fought for me in my life. It’s always been just me, and I wanted Sid to do that so much but he didn’t, and whatever the problem is it doesn’t matter anymore.”

  Reaching into his back pocket he pulls out an envelope. “This is for you sweetheart. It’s a plane ticket and some cash in case you haven’t got any spare. Your suitcases have been bought from the hotel and they’re in your dressing room.” I rub a shaky hand over my mouth at the proof that this is it and they all knew it. Making myself smile I take it from him, my fingers trembling, and he grabs them for a long second looking down at my hand intently as though it holds the key to the universe.

  “Thank you Bram,” I whisper. “Goodbye.” Nodding sharply without looking at me again he hugs me tight, and then putting me gently to one side, he moves quickly down the corridor, opening the band’s dressing room door to be greeted by cheers and whistles. For a second I lean against the wall looking down the deserted corridor and listening to the
chatter from inside. I feel cold like I’m on the other side of a mirror looking at a group of people who’ve become like family to me and I can’t get near anymore. Then the door closes and silence falls apart from the muffled sound of the crowd leaving and the bangs as the stage is pulled down.

  I thump my head softly against the wall and then just like always I make myself get up and move on. I push away from the wall and go to the dressing room set aside for me. I look down at my outfit wryly as I’ve definitely got to change before getting on a plane. I’m wearing a black and white striped prom dress with what feels like yards of shocking pink tulle underneath, pouffing the skirt out and showing off my bare legs in my boots.

  As I get to the door I hear muffled laughter but it’s when I hear a familiar groan that anger fills me so quickly it’s like a head rush. Shoving open the door I come to a stop on the threshold, pushing a hand in my mouth to stop my cry. The blonde groupie is topless and perched on the make-up counter, her legs wide and curled around Sid’s bare torso. He’s bent over her in a heated kiss, their tongues tangling, and as he grinds against her I can see that his jeans are half undone.

  “Excuse me,” I say, and my voice is so cold it feels like you could freeze ice cubes on my tongue. The blonde screeches and tries to cover up her breasts, but Sid just moves indolently to face me, putting a big hand high on the inside of the girl’s tanned thigh. A part of me dimly registers that his eyes are focused and burning bright as if he has a fever or is in pain, but then he smirks.

  “Can I help you Nell?” he drawls, and my fists clench.

  “Not anymore, no. I just need to get my things and then you can get back to your life. Sorry to disturb you.”

  “You’re sorry.” He laughs carelessly, bending down to run his tongue over the blonde’s lips who promptly gives a porn worthy moan and sucks on his tongue lingeringly, and I can feel the gorge rise in my throat. I have to get out of here now because otherwise I may throw up all over the lovers. That might please me short term, but the thought that he would know how much he’s hurt me stops me. Although looking at him I really don’t think he cares at all. He pauses in his kissathon and quirks an eyebrow at me. “Still here Nell? Didn’t think voyeurism was your thing but hey, whatever,” and he goes to undo his zipper, the tinny buzz sounding stunningly loud in the room.

  “How could you Sid?” I say clearly and he seems to flinch before recovering himself.

  “How could I what Nell?”

  “I told you that I loved you and this is your reply.”

  His shoulders stiffen. “No. I told you that you shouldn’t,” he hisses, bending towards me, his face flushed and almost tormented. “That was your reply. This …,” he gestures at the woman. “This is just my life.”

  “Then I feel sorry for you,” I say quietly. “Because this is just sad, you fucking some random stranger to give me the message. Be a man and tell me properly.”

  The blonde says ‘hey’ indignantly but it’s drowned out by Sid’s roar. “This is the message you stupid bitch. This is me saying goodbye, farewell, bon voyage and all that shit. You’re just not paying close enough attention. Now get your suitcase and bag and fuck off Nell. The tour’s over. You’re no fucking use to me now.”

  For a second I stand stunned at this poison spewing from the lips of the person that I love most in the world. I would happily die for someone that has just taken pleasure in hurting me in the most basic way. I’ll never fall in love again because this shit hurts too much. Tears fill my eyes and spill over my cheeks.

  He doesn’t know because he’s turned back to the girl, his mouth working her throat, his long fingers cupping her fake breasts, but she does, staring at me and then smirking. Recovering myself I grab my coat and bags and avoiding looking at them I pull my suitcase with me. “Goodbye Sid,” I whisper, but there’s no reply and then I’m outside in the corridor hearing a muffled shout of ‘fuck’ and the sound of something breaking loudly, but I’m gone and the closing of the stage door is just an echo of this.

  Outside I hesitate. I honestly don’t know where to go now and I hate him for this perhaps more than anything. Before him I’d always plodded on steadily, ignoring everything but the will to survive and get through each day. Now I know how life should really feel – full of infinite possibilities and small joys every day, and he’s cast me out of this and into grey darkness again, and I hate him so much I can feel it all over my body, the body that has loved him so much.

  I push my hands into my coat pocket and register the crackle of card. Pulling it out and squinting in the street light I see Cameron’s telephone number. On the other side in neat print he had written ‘call me when you’re free’. Flicking the card back and forth in my fingers I stare at the busy street. I could go home, back to mum and Molly, but the words on the card stop me because I am free now. Sid has done that so what does it really matter anymore? I’ll go where the wind takes me and pulling my phone out before I can rethink it I dial his number.

  I listen to the ringing, watching a couple walk entwined together down the street as more tears prick my eyes. That had been Sid and I a few days ago. Becoming aware of the deep, sleepy voice in my ear I grab the phone tightly.

  “Cameron. It’s Nell Slater. You said to ring you when I’m free. Well that’s just happened tonight. Do you still want me?”

  There’s a pause and then his voice comes again, awake now and with a husky edge to it. “Definitely Nell. I definitely want you. I’ll book you a flight from whichever airport you’re nearest to. Come to me in LA sweetheart.”

  Fourteen

  One month later I sit on my balcony in the early evening twilight listening to the constant, soft sound of the surf, while a warm breeze tugs at my hair pulling it into waves like a crotchety hairdresser. Down below me I can hear the sounds of laughter from the outside bar. In the distance the lights of the Santa Monica pier glisten and flicker, and when the breeze shifts I can hear the tinny music and sounds of screaming as someone rides the big dipper.

  It’s a beautiful view and every day I have to remind myself to be thankful because eight months ago I could barely afford the bus fare in London. I have to remind myself because at the moment I really can’t bring myself to feel very much at all, and it’s starting to worry me because this is a lot of people’s dream.

  When I arrived at LAX Airport a month ago I think I was still in shock, but luckily Cameron had been waiting for me. He’d obviously either got the story from someone before I got there, or my face had told him everything that he needed to know, but he’d been lovely. He’d gamely ignored the fact that I was still wearing the prom dress with stage make up running down my face and panda eyes from the crying I’d done on the plane. Incidentally, this incessant crying had guaranteed a spare seat next to me on the plane.

  He’d bundled me into a waiting car and bought me here – Shutters on the Beach in Santa Monica, which is a funky boutique hotel right on the beach. He’d said that he thought that the laidback vibe would suit me, plus it was conveniently near to his studio in Santa Monica so I wouldn’t be caught in traffic every morning. I’ve been stuck in a few morning commutes since then, and every single torturous minute has made me thank him for that decision.

  As it is my daily routine consists of taking breakfast here and then I wander to Starbucks to get myself a coffee, and then meander over to Cameron’s studio where for the last month we’ve been writing and recording. He’s still very much a dance DJ at heart so his music tends to be very high tempo but it’s still melodic, and he’s a wonderful writing partner, full of ideas and humour but also very eager to hear and use my ideas.

  As for me, I’ve loved being in the studio, not through love of my craft, but for the sole reason that for hours at a time I don’t think of Sid, wonder what or who he’s doing, or how he is. Instead, we just write and record, and if most of my ideas are angsty love songs, Cameron manfully refrains from highlighting it, and just steers me away when I get too depressing.


  Unfortunately, the nights are bad and aren’t showing any signs of getting better. I lie awake for hours, staring into space and torturing myself with memories of what we’d had and bitter thoughts of how it had ended.

  At first for my sanity I’d avoided all the newspapers and magazines because the band seemed to be everywhere. With the award season coming up and the fact that they’d been nominated for loads of things, the press had been full of them, focusing on the tour and their private lives. I’d therefore resolutely turned my face away every time I’d passed a news stand.

  I had however been treated to the full glory of an article about Sid and I, which had rehashed the things that had happened on tour, and painted me out to be a desperate groupie that had chased him relentlessly and stolen him away from his real love Leah. Call me cynical but I detected the hand of either Leah or Vanessa in that. It had been sent to me by my best friend Mark, and he followed it up with a very long phone call. He’d appeared torn between congratulating me for sleeping with Sid and wanting to know very inappropriate details about his anatomy, and wanting to kick his backside. He’d ended up on a very wavering compromise of semi hating him, and a promise to meet me when he got back from his shoot.

  I’d like to say that I kept up my noble disinterest in all things Sid, but unfortunately I can’t because after a while I moved onto the more embarrassing stage of cyber stalking him. I’d obsessively cruised the internet, examining every new picture of him and bracing myself for him to be photographed with other women, but it hadn’t happened. Instead, I’d just seen loads of photos of him looking stern and slightly sad. He’d also looked thinner but I chalked that up to wild living and not the heartache that had influenced my own weight loss.

  To my consternation the others have still kept in contact with me. Viv and Mabe text me nearly every day with photos and news. Mabe’s latest text had been a picture of her and Charlie. Her baby bump is huge now and they’d been sitting together laughing at the camera with his arms tight around her. Apparently they’re having twins, and I wish so much that I could have been there when that news came out just to see Sid’s face when he realised that he was going to be an uncle twice over.