I sat on my bed, staring around at all these beautiful things and suddenly feeling very lonely. The realization that I was a big fat whore cliché descended like a machete and I rushed into the bathroom, spooning water to my mouth with cupped hands.
Matt picked up after a few rings.
“Hey.” I could hear him smiling. “How are you getting on?”
The pitch? “Oh, I’ve given up until tomorrow.”
“Will you have time to come see me play?”
“Your rugby thing?”
“We tend to call it a match.” He laughed. “It’s at eleven. Would you come?”
“Do I have to bring quartered oranges?”
“That’s for football poofs,” he scoffed.
“What do rugby players eat, then? Quartered babies?”
“Yeah. Tubby ones.” He paused, swallowing. “I miss you, babe.”
I bit my lip and lowered my eyes, as ashamed as if someone could see me. “I miss you too,” I said softly.
“I could walk around, if you wanted.”
“I do…but you need your sleep.” I stroked the buckles on my new handbag. “Besides, my bedroom resembles some kind of costume department right now.”
“I wouldn’t mind.” His voice was so warm. “Shall I?”
“I need to get it all sorted. But I’ll come and watch tomorrow, okay?”
He sighed. “All right, then.”
“Good luck with the pitch.”
“Oh, sod that. I’m off to the pub.”
“Anyone interesting?”
He cleared his throat. “Your mate Aidan, actually.”
Aidan, not working on a Friday? It must be love.
“Don’t turn your back on him,” I said. “Especially not your back!”
“It’s not like that. We’re going to plan New York.”
“Oh, plan? I see.” I was actually a bit perturbed that they were doing it without me. “Just don’t tell him you were ready to blow him off for a lady.”
“I wouldn’t use those exact words,” he teased. “I suppose I’d better get in the shower…I’ll text you later, okay?”
“Okay. Have a good one.”
I clicked off before he could say anything else, and smacked the phone against my forehead. I would have loved nothing more than to find him on my doorstep, to bring him in and curl up next to him on the sofa while he played with my hair…but I would long for the fingers on my skin to get rougher, for him to be a man that he wasn’t, and maybe Charlie was right–I didn’t want what he wanted, not in the straightest sense. The bruises he’d left on my knees that first night weren’t badges of his desire, they were just symptoms of the competition he’d felt with Joseph, even then. Shame throbbed that I’d ever thought otherwise.
Soon enough, our relationship would become less about being with him and more about trying not to be with others. I’d been there before. Aidan was right, too–at heart, Matt was a nice boy. Or he had been, once, before London shoved him down on his knees and made him beg to swallow.
I wished I could settle for that in a lover. I wished that it wasn’t settling at all.
I wished that I deserved him.
* * * *
Saturday morning brought a text from Poppy. Did I want to meet for breakfast and compare pitches?
Er, no thanks. Usurping cow.
Besides, I had roughly forty-five minutes to look presentable and get to Matt’s rugby match. Pompoms seemed appropriate, but I didn’t own any–cheerleading was never a popular request.
Morning had brought more miserable rain, and the heels of my boots slid about in the mud. The match had already started and I stood on the edge with the rest of the small crowd, cocooned in my suede jacket. I felt like a preening plastic doll compared to the other spectators, who had considered things more carefully and wore trainers and anoraks. Sexy, eh?
Matt spotted me after about ten minutes and shot me a huge smile. His white shorts were smattered with mud, a light sweat shining on his forehead; they had been playing for a good while. His dark hair clawed at his face as he ran.
Something twisted inside as I went over the words. I strung them up on little nooses in my mouth. O, Charlotte…what a tangled web you weave.
Bitch.
It would have been a hundred times easier to just wait until we’d been to New York. There was the small obstacle of Joseph and his request, though. I couldn’t wait any longer to tell Matt and I might as well get the savagery done with in one sitting.
If things weren’t bad enough already, Matt’s team lost the match. He approached me with slumped shoulders, still catching his breath. Greg and Eton strode not far behind.
“I’m sorry, babe. We’re normally better than that, I promise.”
“I’m sorry I was so late,” I said. “And you were brilliant. I liked watching you.”
He dropped his head and kissed me, salt and sugar and all things vice. Just what little boys are made of.
“But she isn’t your girlfriend,” said Greg, eyeing me over Matt’s shoulder.
“Fuck off.” Matt laughed as he pulled me into his arms. Body heat drenched me, mellow and soothing–there is honestly nothing like the smell of a man straight off a sports pitch. “You’ve met Greg before, yeah?”
I smiled at him faintly. “I remember him.”
Greg cracked a sly grin. “I’m flattered, madam.”
“Not like that, you tosser.” Matt elbowed him as he pushed past, and Greg sprang away with a mock yelp.
“You’re not dragging her into the showers this time,” he called, “not when the rest of us have to use them!”
“I’ve got to get changed and stuff,” Matt said as we neared the clubhouse. “I won’t be long. Are you coming for a drink?”
I couldn’t have that conversation with him in front of all his friends. “Of course. I’ll wait in the foyer, okay?” Was my mouth not connected to my brain half the time? It switched off when I left work.
He kissed me again, his lips lingering on mine. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”
I folded myself into a chair in the corner as my pulse began to thump. The white walls flashed scarlet, painted with the ghosts of the bloodbath to come.
“Are you all right?”
My head jerked up and I found myself staring at Matt’s friend Johnny.
“Oh.” I rubbed my eyes. “Just tired. Sorry.”
“Busy week?”
“Stressful. You?”
He laughed, lilting and quirky, a little like him. “I work in informatics. It’s not so much stressful as just…a bit like going down the mines on a Monday and surfacing on a Friday.”
“That sounds pretty awful.” I found myself smiling in sympathy.
“Basement offices generally are.”
“Leila, is this guy bothering you?” Matt poked Johnny’s back as he appeared behind him. “I can have him ejected.”
“He isn’t, but he should know that he was dangerously close to schmoozing about VAT.”
Matt winced. “A dark path, dude. You don’t want to go there.”
“Sounds like it.” Johnny winked at me. “Nice seeing you again, Leila. I’ll leave you two to it.”
“We’ll catch you up in a minute,” Matt said. He tugged me up by the hand as the door creaked shut. “Ready to go?”
“Actually. Um.” I toyed with his collar nervously. “Could we talk for a minute first?”
“Oh?”
The whoops had died out in the changing area and the place appeared to be empty. I sank down and patted the next seat.
“It’s just…I ought to tell you before tomorrow.”
“Tell me what?” His bag landed heavily as he sat beside me.
“I have another job with Joseph next week.” I lowered my eyes before I even finished the sentence.
Matt exhaled, his hands resting on his knees. “Okay. When is it?”
“All week,” I mumbled.
“What?”
“All week.” I shru
gged helplessly. “We don’t even have separate hotel rooms.”
Slowly, Matt folded his arms. “Don’t you think it’s about time you just said no?”
“You know I can’t–”
“Won’t, you mean,” he spat. “I suppose you’ll be traveling in his fucking suitcase.”
The tears were swelling. The lump emerged in my throat. “Cheers,” I whispered.
“What do you want me to say? That it’s all right? You know it isn’t, and yet you don’t actually seem to care.”
“That isn’t fair.”
“No. Well.”
I glanced up at him and noticed the teeth marks in his bottom lip, welts that matched my own. God, I wanted this conversation to end.
“What happens after? Is this like both of the jobs you have left?”
“No. This is just the second one.”
“He’s taking the piss.” He kicked at the tiled floor listlessly. “Putting you in his bloody room. He knows about us. I can’t believe he’s being so brazen.”
“I suppose.”
“You suppose? How can you be so passive about this?” He laughed incredulously. “Seriously, what do you want me to do–just sit back and let him rough you up all week?”
“You’re a big boy,” I snapped. “You can do what you want, remember?”
His voice cracked. “I want you to tell him to fuck off, and apply somewhere else.”
“We’ve already had that conversation.”
“So…where do we go now?”
“I think this is getting too hard,” I whispered.
“What?” His hand sprang over mine then, making me jump. He gripped my fingers tightly. “No. We can sort this. But you have to compromise somewhere, you can’t expect me to keep–”
I shook my head. “We both knew the deal to begin with and all we said was that we’d try.” I tried to pull my hand away, but he didn’t let go. “I can’t compromise. You know why I need to do this.”
“I offered you the money!”
“And I told you why I couldn’t take it.” I tugged my hand away with a sharp jerk, jumped up, suddenly a rampant claustrophobic. “Back in a bit.” I strode out the doors and his footsteps fell in wet smacks not far behind.
“Where are you going?” he shouted.
“I need to get some air.”
“No.” His hand was firm on my elbow. It didn’t hurt, but I wasn’t about to go anywhere.
“If this is you not wanting me, you should come out and say it.” The words hissed through his gritted teeth.
How could I say it to that face? The anger had all but evaporated; his features were drawn, eyes watery and miserable. A tremble clawed at his mouth.
“I don’t see what else we can do,” I said.
He glanced down at where he held my arm and released it, visibly ashamed.
The drizzle pricked my hot skin.
“I still want to try,” he said finally. “No matter what happens, I…I’ll still love you in a week.”
But that isn’t what I signed up for, I wanted to howl. Is it?
“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I don’t feel the same way.” I couldn’t bear to look at him any longer and started walking again.
“I don’t care, I can wait, I’ve already waited…” He kept a steady pace beside me. “Won’t you let me?”
The rain came tumbling, the drops thick and cold. I wanted to stop–he deserved to be looked in the eye. What would I find there, though?
I couldn’t bring myself to stick the knife in with the truth about Charlie, but it hardly mattered now.
“Please?” he begged.
“I’m sorry.” I was half sobbing now. “I’d only be messing you around.”
Somewhere, relief echoed, dulled by the crashing snap of the chain. I grieved already but it wasn’t for something I’d had. It was for the thing I’d never have.
“I thought you liked me?” He cried too; it soaked all his words, made them balk and waver.
“I do,” I managed to say. “It’s just not enough.”
The rain seeped through my clothes and clung to my numb flesh. He stopped chasing me, and I carried on. I think that was the moment it ended between us, that point of separation. My first relationship in two years and it had barely lasted a week.
It had felt like much longer.
I could have loved him, perhaps, were it not for the Joseph-shaped shadow poured over it all. Like a serpent coiled around the trunk of a tree, it promised something beautiful and wicked–I knew the price, though. I paid it.
God help me…I had better get more than an apple.
Chapter 15
Honesty.
Monogamy.
I sucked at both of them, frankly, but was quite certain they were separate things.
Over the years, my little lies had solidified into a shiny coat of armour–everyone else just bounced off it to the point that I believed it existed, and the lies were real. It started with Charlie and erupted with the whoring. I told myself I protected others but I was, of course, just looking after myself.
There comes a point when life stops being a game. Responsibilities creep up in the form of bills and invoices, friends need more than a drink on a Friday and lovers anoint more than sheets. This had occurred for me some time ago, but I’d only just begun to admit it. To be very honest, becoming a whore was not a means to an end or a solution to a problem.
It was an escape.
Before I knew it, the real me existed only behind the doors of hotel rooms and in the laps of strange men. I remained Leila, but in the daylight world where so many spent their time pretending sex never happened, she became a dirty thing, a vampire shuddering in the sunshine.
Charlie had said I would be fine, eventually. That I would find someone just like me–a hot-blooded chameleon. I didn’t know that I deserved it or even if he was right. But if he was…perhaps I would be able to be honest with that man.
Perhaps I needed to be.
* * * *
“Dad?”
“What’s wrong?”
I sniffed loudly against the phone, trying to quiet myself as I shook on the sofa. “Would it be all right if I came to stay tonight?”
“Course it is. What’s wrong? Is it that boy?”
Another sob grated. “It’s not his fault–”
“I’ll shoot the gangly shit!”
“Dad! Seriously, it’s not his fault.” I cleared my throat. “I dumped him.”
He snorted. “But he seemed like a decent lad, that Matt.”
“You just called him a shit.”
“I thought he’d upset you.” In the background, plates clattered while Mum swore. “Shall I pick you up?”
“I’ll get the train.”
“No you won’t, not in that state. I can be there in an hour or so. You sort a bag.”
“The thing is, Dad…” I sniffed again. “I have to be at Heathrow for ten AM tomorrow. For New York.”
“I can take you in the morning. Your Mum can sort out the breakfast shift.”
“Is that all right, really?” I said, feeling tearful again. “I don’t want to make any trouble…I just really want to be at home right now.”
“It’s never any trouble. You know that, silly girl. Now get everything sorted and I’ll be with you as soon as I can.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I croaked.
“Not a problem.”
“I’m not coming if you’re going to talk like that!”
I had already done most of the packing for New York, so there was little to be done in that respect. It seemed like a good idea to not pack many toiletries–that way I could slink off to the duty free while we waited, and would avoid hanging around Matt.
Oh God, the flight would be awful. We were even sitting next to each other.
I did a poor job of not sobbing over that thought. I made myself stare into the bathroom mirror, hoping the shame of tear-bruised eye sockets and wet cheeks would harden me up. Charlotte offered only a
defeated shrug, and while a splash of cold water later didn’t make me feel any better, at least my aching shoulders stopped heaving.
Dad greeted me with one of his solid, awkward hugs and it had never been more appreciated. He even switched his awful country CD off as we drove. He wasn’t normally that accommodating.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asked eventually.
“I just didn’t like him as much as I thought.”
He glanced at me in the mirror with narrow eyes. “You liked him enough to bring him home.”
“He kind of orchestrated that.”
“I see.” He pursed his lips. “So if you didn’t like him that much, why do you look so dog rough?”
“Dad!” I put my face in my hands.
“A cute dog. One of those pissy little things the bloody Yanks have in handbags.”
“You’re not helping.”
“You didn’t answer me,” he said sharply.
I slumped back in the chair. “I feel horrible.”
“These things generally are.” He sighed with that innate wisdom parents have–the one which never helps.
“I have to spend a whole week with him now. I have to sit next to him on the plane for eight hours.”
“Couldn’t it have waited until you got back?”
“Didn’t seem right.” I scraped fingers through my hair. It felt mucky and tainted, a little like I did. “I’d be leading him on.”
Gravel squealed beneath tires as we turned into the drive.
“Well. Your mother isn’t impressed–I’m warning you now.”
“She only met him once. It’s not like we’re divorcing!”
“She’s worried about you, Leila. We both are. Not often you rush back at such short notice.”
Despite the misery, the sight of the house bathed in lamplight made me melt inside. Home. I even mustered a half-smile as I entered the living room.
“Your Dad says you finished with Matt,” said Mum. “Well?”
I perched on the edge of the sofa–I couldn’t stick around for an interrogation. “I did.”
“But he was lovely, Leila. He adored you. It was plastered all over him.”
“Yeah, well.” I looked away. “We don’t want the same things.”
“What might they be?”
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