“We both like our own space. She has her place and I have mine. I was a dot com millionaire. I got out just as the market crashed. Lost some, so I’m not rolling in it. I decided to use the money to retrain. That’s how I have some readies to think about buying out the old moaner downstairs.”
I’ve been working with a detective too long. I see conspiracies everywhere.
We batted the idea around. Made some calls.
We were still talking, he reluctant to return to studies that were boring him, me disinclined to return to a flat that seemed too empty, when sadistic Cecily of the flexible sexuality walked in. I made my farewells and fled.
I had one of those uncomfortable meetings with Cecily on the stairs a day later. She blocked the top of the stairs from side to side. In order to get past I either had to talk to her or physically remove her. Which was, of course, her intention. We’d hardly spoken since our run-in at the memorial.
“I hear Tori left you.”
“She didn’t leave. She’s in London. Trying out for Stringfellow’s.”
“If you say so, Randall. We both know she isn’t coming back. Her flat’s been on the market for a week.”
That was news to me.
She reached out. I shot backwards so quickly to avoid her touch I almost fell down the stairs. She smiled indulgently.
“Like a skittish thoroughbred race horse.”
I hated that she was getting off on my revulsion.
“You will come back to me, Randall, we were made for each other.”
“Never!”
“Never say never, Randall. Did I tell you I’ve put in a bid for this place? I’ll let you stay for a price. I’ve been thinking of some interestingly painful things to do to you. If you co-operate, I won’t raise your rent…” She leaned close “…much.”
“I’d rather live on the street.”
She laughed cruelly. “Be careful what you wish for, Randall.”
When he heard about the latest earthquake to shock my life, Dean watched me like a hawk to see if I’d crawled back into the bottle. It was tempting. But it wouldn’t solve anything. I had no money for booze. If the worst happened and Cecily or another unsympathetic landlord bought the apartments, I’d be out, without time to prepare. I needed money for the bond on a new place. The amount I’d need to drink myself into oblivion was on the way to half a week of my current rent; I couldn’t afford to drown my sorrows in a bottle.
Cecily was right. A For Sale sign was up on the flat Tori owned. I called her to try and talk to her about it, without success.
The next night on surveillance was colder still. I stamped around as quietly as I could. A bottle skittered along the tarmac. Our computer thieves putting in an appearance? Despite the disturbing turn my thoughts had taken I set them aside to deal with business.
Dean extrapolated a pattern from their earlier hits which suggested they’d be here one night out of these three. He’s good. The noise was him, arriving with a thermos of something to stop me becoming a popsicle, but we had to abandon our drinks. Our likely lads had arrived. Once the culprits were inside we padlocked the doors and called the cops. Dean’s thermos disappeared during the ensuing scuffle. Guess there were more tea-leafs around than just the computer boosters.
I missed Tori. I missed being able to pick up the phone and hear her voice. Dropping round, with flowers, just to be with her. I left messages in cyberspace for her to collect at an internet cafe whenever she had time, tried to call her mobile, but she’d either turned it off or was out of range. I could feel her slipping away from me.
It was political conference season, and I had more work than I could handle, thanks to the Liberal Democrat MP I’d saved from being knifed.
By day I accompanied them to and from their accommodations: the Cliffs, the Imperial, the Hilton. To working lunches in a number of swish restaurants where all I got to do was smell the food. I either stood behind their chairs, or sat at a small side table with nothing more exciting than a glass of fizzy water, alert to the nuts and celebrity stalkers politicians attract. I also drove them to and from the conference hall at the Winter Gardens.
By night it was a different story. I was inconspicuous while one MP lost his shirt at roulette in the Norbreck Castle Casino. Sat through an appalling production of Turandot at The Grand. Refused to procure prostitutes on several occasions. And twice I had to go to the Paradise in my capacity as Personal Protection to two ministers, which was hard, but not as hard as I’d expected.
The town was only just our own again when all the work Dean had been ‘awaiting developments’ on came to fruition. I’m ashamed to admit I was short-tempered with Dean, when he was trying to ease me through what was rapidly looking like a break-up. We stayed late much of the next two weeks writing reports and closing cases with our clients.
Then, less than a month after she’d gone, the For Sale sign turned to Sold on Tori’s flat. The final nail in the coffin. She wasn’t coming back.
Dean was unfailingly kind. He invited me to dinner every night when I wasn’t on a job.
I finally put my foot down. “Enough! I have to deal with this on my own.”
“I’m trying to help.”
“I know. You have. Don’t think I don’t appreciate it. But I won’t be responsible for ruining your relationship with Craig. We both know that if we carry on like this, I will.”
He looked at me sadly.
“You know I’m right.”
“Promise me you won’t lose it if I’m not there to hold your hand.”
“I promise.”
I tried going out on the scene. With Craig and Dean. Alone. I revisited my old haunts. The Flamingo, the Mardi Gras, Bar B’s. I even hung out on Canal Street, Cruz 101 and Vanilla in Manchester.
I couldn’t get Tori out of my head.
December arrived. Two months post Tori, I arrived home, aching from a beating I’d received, protecting an abortion doctor from a ‘peaceful’ protest to find For Sale had turned to Under Offer on my own building. The axe had fallen.
I’d checked out the estate agents. I didn’t have nearly enough for the bond on a new apartment. Dean wasn’t in a position to give me a loan. And the bank? Forget it.
Cecily, in a negligée, smiling in Ashley’s doorway made my stomach somersault. She must have seen the desperation on my face as I climbed the stairs. Known I didn’t have anywhere else to go. She glided towards me and pinned me against my door.
“Ready to come and see me, Randall? I’ll forgive your insults if you beg. I have a real dungeon. Completely soundproof. I look forward to hearing your screams. Then again, you always were the strong silent type. I wonder how long you can last against my new toys?”
“And Ashley?”
“Can watch. Did you know he finds you attractive? Maybe afterwards I’ll watch while he does you.”
I shuddered.
“Still a virgin, Randall? Not for very much longer. I’ll enjoy breaking you in myself.” Her hand caressed my crotch, and I flinched. She chuckled and stepped away. “Must go, I’m busy. I’ll leave you contemplating how best to please me.”
At the last minute she turned back. “Randall? Get a haircut. I like you better with short hair and you really can’t afford to disappoint me now, can you? I’ll be seeing you. Soon.”
I unlocked my door. A simple note typed and unsigned, requesting an interview at seven the following evening, to discuss my continued occupancy, lay on the floor. Cecily was right. She would be seeing me soon.
“Hair’s a bit severe, Ran.”
“Barbers! All think they’re Sweeney Todd.”
“You OK?”
“Yeah. Look, I might not be in tomorrow.”
“Are you moonlighting on me?”
“No! I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Please tell me you’re not going on a bender.”
“I give you my word. No booze.”
“Then what..?”
“Somebody’s bought the hous
e. They want to see me to ‘discuss my continued occupancy.’ I think it’s Cecily.”
“Psycho bitch? I’ll come with you.”
“No.”
“Randall! Be serious! Ever since you finished with her all she’s wanted was to get you back in handcuffs, and after what I’ve been finding out… Bloody hell! That’s it isn’t it? The hair… Randall, you can’t do this!”
“I don’t have any choice. I can’t afford to move out. The bank won’t advance on my loan. She’s got me over a barrel.”
“She’ll have you over a lot more than that. Her house has a fully equipped dungeon!”
“I know. She took great pleasure in telling me about it last night.”
“Randall, pack your bags. You can stay with us.”
“You haven’t got the space.”
“We’ll make the space!”
I shook my head.
“Damn it! I won’t see you go through that again. And I won’t stand by and watch you get yourself maimed. You’re my friend.”
He grabbed me and pulled me into a fierce embrace. I disentangled myself.
“You’ll let me come with you?”
“No. This is something I have to do alone or she’ll smell a rat.”
He glared at me. I jumped in before he could start again. “I’m going prepared. Letting her think she has it her way. Then springing it on her and telling her to go fuck herself.”
She was waiting for me in the hallway when I got in at six. Her business suit skirt was so short it could have been reclassified as a belt.
I’m not much of an actor, but my illusory fear must have been convincing. I watched her predator smile rack up a notch, while I pretended to fumble for my keys.
“Love the hair. I’m glad you took my advice. I think perhaps the Boss suit would be best. With one of your silk shirts, white, and a silk tie. Do you still have the one I bought you?”
My hand went instinctively to my throat.
“No.”
She smiled. “Never mind. I’m sure you’ll find something suitable. I’m looking forward to it.” She ran her hands over her ample curves and licked her lips. She opened the door. Sultry jazz was playing.
“Later, Randall.”
With a smile she was gone.
I took my time getting ready. I showered and dressed just as she’d ordered, and applied a cologne she and Tori had both, ironically, loved on me.
When I let myself out, there was no reply to my knock on Ashley’s door. I presumed she’d decided to play this whole landlord thing to the hilt and was waiting downstairs. I arrived with a minute to spare before the deadline. I knew what a stickler for punctuality she was.
I could hear music inside, so I knocked then tried the handle, in case she couldn’t hear me over the love songs. Love? The woman doesn’t know the meaning of the word. I guessed she’d chosen those deliberately to hurt me too.
The apartment was big and dark. I’d never been inside before, but I knew it took up the whole bottom floor. I closed the door behind me and walked through the rooms.
The redecoration had turned out nicely. The smell of ancient cigarette smoke from its former owner was gone, along with the cheesy 1970s decor I used to see through the uncurtained front windows. It was remarkably pleasant. I was surprised that she’d left it as it was. Her tastes ran to something distinctly darker. Perhaps this was a façade. Was there a dungeon in the back room?
I hadn’t seen any sex toys or torture implements by the time I reached the bedroom. The place smelled of perfume and was lit with candles. I was confused. Was she playing with me? Trying to convince me she’d changed? When the door closed behind me and hands fastened over my eyes, I felt on steadier ground.
None too gently, I flipped her over my head on to the bed. She landed with a whoosh of expelled air, in deshabille that, if it had been anyone else, might have excited me.
I turned away, about to deliver the beginning of the scenario I’d planned, when the voice behind me froze me in my tracks. “Is that any way to welcome me home?”
“TORI?!”
I spun round to find her lying on her stomach, ankles crossed in the air behind her, chin propped on her laced fingers, watching me.
“I sincerely hope you weren’t expecting anybody else!”
I didn’t know what to say, what to think. My head reeled. I had to hold on to the door for support as everything came unravelled.
She leapt up and grabbed me and sat me down where she’d just been. Her hands were soft on my face, the way I remembered, her hair a curtain around us as she fussed over me.
It was really her! This wasn’t a dream!
She left me long enough to fetch a glass of water which she forced me to drink. The cold reality in my mouth and throat brought back a measure of stability to my knocked-sideways world. She stayed close and watched me recover, her face all concern. When she thought I was as close to normal as I was ever going to get, she took the glass from me, setting it aside as if I was a child, or a mental patient, who’d harm herself if she was left with such a dangerous object. Then she sat back and looked at me.
“You really were expecting somebody else.” She took in the suit, my hair. “At a guess I’d say Cecily has been playing her games. Did she tell you she’d bought the place? Tell you that unless you met her you were out?”
“Something like that.”
“And you were coming here to tell her where to shove her offer.”
“You should be the one in the private detective business.”
“That’s Dean’s affair. I just put two and two together. Dean offered to put you up?”
“Yes.”
“He’s a good man. A good friend.”
I just nodded. I couldn’t get enough of looking at her. She was so beautiful. She lit all those fires in me I thought had died. Reminded me of all the times we’d… She said she was home! What did that really mean?
“Tori, I…”
“I should explain.”
“You’re really back?”
Now it was her turn to nod. “I’ve come home, Randall. The last two months taught me where my priorities lay. What I really wanted. Who I wanted. You. If you can still feel the same way about me?”
“You have to ask?”
“I know what I see and what I feel. I didn’t know if you would want to trust me again with your heart. I’d understand if you couldn’t.”
She choked up. This wasn’t a ploy to get me back. I kissed away her tears. My lips found hers. She opened her mouth, devouring me with such need that I knew my nightmares of her finding someone else had been just that. Nightmares.
“I missed you so much,” she breathed, between kisses, between touches. “I couldn’t countenance the thought of being with someone else. I did try. Once. But they didn’t kiss like you. Their touch didn’t set me on fire. I couldn’t go through with it. Being with you, here, now, I know that there’s only you. Please, Randall, take me to bed.”
I’ve never taken my clothes off so fast. Tori helped, but there was no finesse. I just wanted to feel her skin against mine. I’d have done anything to have it. I’ve never felt that way about anyone else. Then our hands and mouths were on each other. For the next hour, I was nothing but sensation.
I came back to myself when she caught my new crop of stitches. Pain was such a contrast from what had gone before that it woke me up. She kissed the place with her soft mouth when I flinched.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting this. You haven’t been letting them get you because you felt bad about yourself after I was gone?”
Had I? I didn’t think so and said as much. She wasn’t convinced.
“Tell me how you came by these.”
“I was asked to stand Personal Protection for a doctor at an abortion clinic. I didn’t take her talk of threats seriously enough. I thought, since they were mostly women I wouldn’t have anything to worry about. I went without the Kevlar and the bracers. I was wrong. One of the protestors char
ged us with a broken bottle. I did what she was paying me for. I took the bottle.”
“With no protection at all?” She was horrified.
“I didn’t have a choice. It was her or me. She sewed me up afterwards.”
“That isn’t the point!”
“It is. It’s what I do. I won’t be so stupid next time.”
She stroked the sewn flesh gently, then her fingers slipped lower…
I caught her hand. I wanted what she was doing. But I needed to know I wasn’t being offered a taste of heaven only to lose it again.
“Please. I need to know how you come to be here. How you afforded this.”
“Money I made there. Here. Savings. The sale of my flat. Mum and dad. A mortgage. The usual suspects.”
I wanted to ask whether she meant to stay, but found I couldn’t voice that fear.
“I’m not going back, Randall. I hated it. They’re big and prestigious and they pay well. But it was… What was that word you used? Tawdry!” She made a face. “Businessmen looking down on you, treating you like furniture. They hold business meetings there! We might as well have been wallpaper. There wasn’t an ounce of honest lust or respect for what we were doing. It pervaded the atmosphere and dragged you down. There was no excitement. No electricity. No incentive to do your best, dazzle the clients. By the end of the first week I’d given up hope.”
She shuddered. I stroked her shoulders, urging her to continue.
“By the end of the second week, I’d had so many financial propositions – and they couldn’t believe it when I turned them down – that I could have papered all the walls in this apartment with money and still had some left over, if I’d accepted. I didn’t! I wouldn’t have let you put your tongue to such magnificent use if I had.”
She kissed me, in spite of the uses I’d put my tongue to.
“Even if I had been able to stand the drudgery, the property prices would have been prohibitive. Every penny I earned would have been spent on rent or mortgage. The reason all the girls are so skinny in London isn’t fashion; it’s because they can’t afford to eat!”
Now I was satisfied. “So you came back.” I moved my hand from her shoulder to more intimate places.
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