by Lissa Bilyk
Resigned, I started looking at stock with him. I didn’t know anything about cars, so I only cared about two things: the price sticker, and whether it was manual and fuel efficient.
“These are thousands of pounds,” I said, looking wistfully at car over one hundred thousand. Even if Cameron was going to pay, there is no way I’d ask him to pay that much. I moved around the showroom until I found the pre-owned lot, and then started checking the price tags.
The cheapest one was a 2004 Continental. It was still more than twice my annual salary. It was a silvery-white three door car with sleek lines that looked like it could drive underwater. I lay my hand along it roof and Cameron came up behind me and put his arms around me.
“Do you like this one?”
I’d double-checked the price tags and this was the cheapest on the lot.
“Yes.”
“Let’s take it for a test drive.”
The drive was wonderful. The car was responsive and purred like a sleepy kitten, as opposed to Bombalurina’s angry roar. The handling was much better than I was used to, and everything seemed more sensitive and smooth.
I fell in love. Despite the price, and despite the fact that someone else was buying her for me, I wanted her.
We returned to the dealership and sorted out the paperwork. I drove her home right away. Cameron organised a tow truck to take away Bombalurina. Her engine still started, so I moved her out onto the road to await the truck. Then I swept up the glass and put the new Bentley in her spot.
“What are you going to call this one?” he asked, his arms around me, his chin resting on my shoulder as we gazed at her like proud parents.
“I’ll have to think about it,” I said, which was becoming a standard answer these days. I never could make decisions quickly: I’d been crushing on Cameron long before I’d slept with him, and I had taken over a year to decide to move to England I the first place. The only thing I hadn’t had to think about was whether or not I was in love with him.
Chapter Eight
That night we were invited to an anti-Valentine’s Day party in the complex’s conference room. It was the day before Valentine’s Day and some people just couldn’t handle being single – or wanted to celebrate it. All I knew is that a lot of people would rather stay in an unhappy relationship than be by themselves, so anti-Valentine’s Day celebrations weren’t that common.
The theme was red, so I wore my favourite red sweater dress with knee-high red leather boots, a rose in my hair and red fingernails and lipstick. Cameron wore black pants but a red shirt unbuttoned at the throat, exposing the skin of his neck and a few inches of his deliciously glorious golden chest.
We made our way to the party together. Management had given me a new key card along with a scolding that reddened my ears to match my dress. I’d already paid the fine and knew I’d screwed up, and I hated being made to look foolish or like a child.
The conference room was bedecked with shiny hearts and streamers, a large glass bowl full of red punch near the entrance and heart confetti sprinkled everywhere. The big table had been pushed aside and the chairs artfully arranged for conversation. There was a temporary dance floor set up at the far end next to a DJ booth, and a tacky disco ball spun above our heads.
The party was already in full swing when we arrived. I recognised a few of the residents dancing or sitting around chatting, but it couldn’t have been everyone who lived here. I knew there were a few married couples like the couple making out in the elevator, but I couldn’t see them either. I resolved to make the best of a crowded situation and went to get Cameron and myself a drink.
I took two red solo cups and filled them with punch without testing it first. When I got back to Cameron, who was already talking to a pretty, voluptuous brunette wearing a tight black dress with a plunging neckline, I realised there was some kind of alcohol in the punch. Rather than look like an idiot, I decided to drink it anyway.
The brunette looked at me curiously for a moment but then her attention turned back to Cameron. My gaze wandered as I politely tuned out their conversation, and I realised that my red sweater dress was one of the most conservative pieces of clothing at the party. Sure, it pinched in at the waist and flared at the hips and was a tad on the short side because of my long legs, but it was long-sleeved and the neckline was high, and I wore black tights underneath to cover up any bare flesh. Meanwhile, the women on the dance floor wore low necklines, low backlines, miniskirts, high slits, and basically anything that flaunted their assets.
I felt downright dowdy in comparison, and I wondered if I should have dressed up more. But I had nothing to compete with: I already had a boyfriend, one who had thought about marriage and was convinced we’d never break up. The girls on the dance floor, grinding their asses into guys, or sitting chatting on the chairs, their legs exposed, leaning over to give the best view of cleavage… maybe they were here to pick up. At an anti-Valentine’s Day party. So they didn’t have to be alone tomorrow.
“Tori.”
I turned. Leslie faced me with a smile. She wore her hair down for the first time since I’d met her, and it framed her delicate, pointed face, making her look pretty. She wasn’t wearing her usual glasses. She also wore red, although her top was tighter and more revealing, as was her black leather miniskirt. She had the angular lines to wear something more revealing: I had more flesh to conceal. I didn’t hate her: I had no reason to. Yet something about her made me uneasy.
“Hi, Leslie.”
She offered me a drink, which was the first surprising thing. I took it from her with thanks. Maybe she wasn’t so bad: sure, she had a crush on my boyfriend, but a lot of women did. If she wanted to be friends, I could be friends. I took a sip of the drink, the bitterness of cranberry washing over my tongue.
“About your lost key card,” she said, speaking loudly over the music. “I looked everywhere but I couldn’t find it.”
I smiled at her, genuinely for the first time in a long time. “Thank you.”
“Are you here with Cameron?”
I looked around. “Yeah, he’s here somewhere.”
She smiled a quiet smile, and moved on to someone else. I could see Cameron shaking it up on the dance floor so I joined him for a bit, even though I hated dancing. I jiggled too much. We danced and swayed and kissed on the floor, and I felt happy and content until my feet started to hurt.
I took a seat by myself, content to sit and watch. He’d had private dance, singing, and acting lessons since he was a child, but he had no formal qualifications as he didn’t go to one of the performing arts schools. He didn’t need to: he’d been acting since he was eight and moved to London ten years later. He took workshops and loved to broaden his mind learning useful skills such as archery and horse riding, but apart from that he was just as good as his formally trained contemporaries.
I hoped he’d get a job soon.
I felt a presence beside me and looked up to see a tall dark-haired stranger standing over me wearing a dark grey suit with a red shirt underneath.
“Tori?” he asked.
I smiled automatically to be polite. “Yes?”
“I’m Nathaniel.”
“Hello.” I shook his hand. Was he from the police department about my car?
Nathaniel sat down beside me. “Do you come to this sort of thing often?” He had a fine London accent to his speech.
I looked over to Cameron, dancing now with a skinny redhead, and I felt not a single pang of jealousy. “No, not often.”
“Great party, isn’t it?” Nathaniel took a swig of his drink and I followed, swallowing the last of mine. I gagged a little on the bitterness. Nathaniel took my cup. “Another?”
“I’ll come with you,” I said. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him not to drug me, it’s just that I’d had it drilled in to me to never take a drink from a stranger. When I stood up to follow him to the punch bowl, I noticed he was the same height as me in my high-heeled boots, maybe a little taller.
/> “Do you know someone in the building?” I asked as he handed me a refill. He pointed somewhere behind me. I turned to look but didn’t quite see who it was. I took a drink, and I figured the mixture must have been topped up because this one wasn’t quite as bitter as the last.
“Shocking weather, huh?” he said as he led me to a quieter area and we sat down again. We still had to speak loudly to hear over the music, but we weren’t shouting at each other.
“It’s my first February in England,” I confessed.
“Oh, where are you from?”
“Australia.”
“I love Australia. I’d love to go there one day. I’d surf all the beaches.”
“All?” I smiled at him. “There’s a lot of coast.”
“I’d give it my best shot.”
I sat back, relaxing, amazed how easy it was to talk to a complete stranger. I was so used to being with Cameron, to always having him to talk to, to being overwhelmingly shy around others while he lapped up the attention that I’d completely forgotten what it was like to make small talk.
I saw Cameron dancing with a blonde girl with her back to me and he waved, a guileless smile on his face. He was having such a good time mingling with everyone. I smiled back at him. It was about time he let his hair down. He’d been cooped up with a crazy serious Australian girl for three months.
I felt a pounding in my head, throbbing in time to the music, and my skin felt hot all over from the stifling heat of many bodies dancing. I sighed and looked at my watch. Maybe I could go and grab some boxes from my apartment and shuffle them on over before anyone noticed I was gone.
“What are you thinking?” Nathaniel asked me. Well, no one would notice but Nathaniel. He seemed interested. Maybe I had to back him off.
What makes you think he’s interested in you? A nasty voice in the back of my head said. Just because a handsome man is talking to you it doesn’t mean he wants to get into your pants. You’ve gotten so egotistical since you started dating Cameron.
I shut the voice down and shook my head. “Nothing. I’m just feeling claustrophobic. I think I’ll get some air.”
“I’ll come with you.” He jumped up and took my elbow, guiding me through the throng of people until we were out of the conference hall and in the reception area. Leslie wasn’t at her post but I was too hot to care. I pushed open the door to the crisp February air.
It was windless, but the shock of stepping outside after being in an overheated room refreshed me. The pounding in my head didn’t lessen even though I was now away from the music, and the frigid air kissing my flushed skin didn’t take away any of the heat.
“You’re looking a bit hot,” Nathaniel said, steadying me with his arm as I wobbled on my heels.
“I’m just – I just need to sit down.” He helped me over to a low brick wall, part of the raised garden bed in the intricately planned and meticulously crafted complex gardens. I sat down and leaned forward, my elbows on my knees.
“Can you believe a few days ago I was in Spain?” I laughed, running my hands through my hair. The rose fell out and landed at my feet. Nathaniel picked it up and twirled it. He sat down next to me and his thigh was hot against my own.
“Some party huh?” he said again, and before I knew what was happening he leaned over, grabbed my hair and kissed me forcefully, prying my lips open with his tongue and dipping it in as far as it would go. I gagged and tried to push him off, but we were awkwardly positioned beside each other and he leaned over me. My hip dug into the rock. I grabbed both his shoulders and gave a shove, putting my own shoulder into it, and he went flying off me and landed heavily on the ground before my boots.
“What the fuck?” he said, glaring up at me.
“What the fuck yourself?” I demanded back. “You don’t just go around kissing girls you just met. What kind of a creep are you?”
“But this is part of the plan!” he said.
“What the fuck are you talking about? I thought you were just some nice guy taking pity on the fat girl.”
“Leslie said you liked it rough. She told me you had a fantasy of being picked up by a stranger.”
“What?” I said. “Leslie? What’s Leslie got to do with it?”
“Leslie’s the one who invited me to the singles party.”
“It’s not a singles party, it’s just a party. I have a boyfriend! I didn’t come to hook up with anyone. I live here on the top floor with my boyfriend.”
“Well, where’s your boyfriend? Why isn’t he out here with you?”
“He’s mingling,” I said, my stomach turning queasy. “He’s an actor and he needs a job so he mingles with people. Networking, you know?”
“Are you all right? You’re looking pale.”
“No, I’m not all right, I’ve just been mouth raped by some guy I don’t even know.”
“I’m sorry about that. There must be some miscommunication.”
“Miscommunication my arse,” I said, leaning over and putting my head between my knees. My stomach turned again. “This air isn’t helping. I think I’m going to hurl.”
“Feeling better?” he said hopefully after a few moments.
I shook my head. “Not really.” Now I could feel cramps starting in my stomach. “Um… can you…” I felt my stomach heave and I doubled over, swallowing back bile.
“Whoa,” Nathaniel said, stepping back. “Are you drunk?”
“I’ve only had two,” I croaked, sweat breaking out along my body and my stomach cramping. “Can you help me back inside?”
Despite the fact that I’d bodily shoved him off me, Nathaniel seemed gentlemanly enough to support my elbow and open the door for me. I felt my stomach gurgle and heave once again and I flung open the nearest restroom door, not even caring that it wasn’t the ladies’.
I hurried past the urinal and some girl on her knees giving a guy head and hurled into the nearest bowl, thankful beyond recognition that cleaners attended the restroom frequently. I emptied the contents of my stomach and, feeling better, wiped the sick from my mouth. Then I heard a sound that made the blood in my veins run like ice.
The guy getting the blowjob from the girl. His moans of pleasure were one I recognised.
Intimately.
I flushed the toilet and peeked outside the stall.
My heart broke in two.
Cameron stood against the far wall, his back pressed against it, and some girl with wild blond hair had his dick in her mouth. And he liked it.
“What the actual fuck?” I screamed, storming forward and ripping the girl off him by the hair. I threw her to the ground and only then did I recognise her.
Leslie. Leslie the night receptionist. Who, instead of being at her post, was sucking off my boyfriend.
I looked at Cameron. His head lolled back and between his slitted eyes I saw enormous pupils. He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor. He didn’t seem to know where he was.
“Don’t worry,” Leslie said, getting to her feet. “He’s only drugged. He wouldn’t have me any other way. Too much of a gentleman.” She looked me up and down in disdain. “Though it seems you can’t handle yours.”
“You drugged me?” I said in disbelief, my hands at my stomach. “Are you crazy? What the hell is wrong with you?”
Her eyes hardened. “I thought Nathaniel would have had his way with you by now. I guess even he can’t stand the sight of the fat girl.”
I slapped her. Her head snapped back and I felt satisfaction at leaving a red and white mark across her pert, fine cheek.
“You stay the fuck away from both of us,” I said, trembling with rage. “I am filing an official complaint and you’ll be out of a job and you’ll never see him ever again!”
I turned to Cameron and helped him to his feet, tucking his business away and draping one arm around my shoulders. He was heavy, but I was a strong girl, and I could make it to the elevator. I’d have to.
Leslie placed an index finger at her mouth. “He was d
elicious.” Before I could lunge forward and rip her face off she trounced out of the bathroom in a whirl of blonde hair.
Cameron dragged his feet as I ushered him out of the bathroom, and out in the foyer I nearly dropped him.
“Tori!” Nathaniel jumped to his feet. “Are you alright?”
“You’re still here?” I said, struggling under Cameron’s weight. “I thought I put you off.”
He slung Cameron’s other arm around his shoulders and helped ease my burden. “Are you kidding? I’ve got to make up for my terrible lack of judgement and integrity. Leslie just left.”
“Yeah,” I said, staggering under Cameron’s weight. “She’s the one that drugged me and Cameron.”
“Cameron Campbell? Is he your boyfriend?”
“I need to get him to the hospital. I purged mine but his is still in his system.” I dug in his pocket for the keys to the Jag. “There’s a car in the underground car park. Can you help me get him there?”
“Shouldn’t we call an ambulance?” Nathaniel asked.
“No,” I said. “There might still be paparazzi hiding outside wanting to snap his picture. We should take his car.”
“I’ll drive,” Nathaniel said. “You’re in no state to.”
I handed him the keys, grateful. We bundled Cameron into the elevator and out into the car park. Once the Jag’s back door was opened we unceremoniously dumped him in. He moaned and called my name. Despite everything, I felt a flush of pleasure. Even drugged he still reached out for me.
I stumbled into the passenger side seat and fumbled with the seat belt as Nathaniel got in and started the ignition. As soon as the car started moving up the ramp Cameron heaved and vomited into the foot well. I opened my window, feeling nauseous all over again.
“Tori?” His voice was stronger now.
“Cam?” I reached around and grasped for his hand. It was sticky with sweat. “Are you okay?”
“I feel really sick.”
“It’s okay baby, we’re taking you to the hospital.”
He nodded and closed his eyes, falling back on the seat. “I had sex with a unicorn.” He was delirious.
