Love Rules

by Freya North

  ‘Christ, babes, that's not good timing, not good timing at all.’ Peter assessed how ghastly the situation must be for Thea and in an instant he understood both her recent, bizarre behaviour during his session and also her probing the ramifications of breaking an exchange of contracts. But just then, he had no answers and was for once stunned into silence. It was such an eerie sound for Thea that she felt compelled to continue. ‘Look, I'm horrified I gave you the wrong idea the other week at the Being Well,’ she confessed. ‘I was in such a muddle – I don't know. My mind was wandering and I guess my fingers followed. I wasn't thinking straight.’

  Peter tapped her knee soothingly while telling himself not to be such a prat for being momentarily offended that Thea didn't want to have sex with him at all. ‘Nothing happened at the Being Well, darling,’ he assured her with soothing equanimity. It was true. Nothing had happened. ‘What a wanker!’ Peter said with derision. ‘I mean me – not your bloke. Your bloke is a wanker too. Actually, I'd say he was more of a prat. Poor old babes; there you were, stressed and in shock and therefore coming on to me in your sudden madness – but there was me turning you down! In your hour of need! I'm so sorry, sugar.’ Thea wasn't sure what to make of Peter's take on the situation, his confession. It was as if he was apologizing for not having undertaken a charitable act. His expression softened and he squeezed her arm. ‘I'm joking. I'm being an arse. I'm not much of a comedian, am I? I was trying to make you laugh. Thea, forget what happened – in the circumstances, I can quite understand you suddenly going full-on doolally.’ Thea nodded. ‘But you mustn't take it personally that I declined. I mean, look on it this way – I see you as this beautiful, classy bird way out of my league! You're priceless, babes, priceless. Not that I thought you were a real tart anyway. God, no.’

  Thea smiled meekly. Peter was trying so hard to be comforting, to say nice things to pep her up, that it was irrelevant his chosen words were in such a sweet muddle. It was comforting to be sitting there, in the neutral but safe territory of his Beemer, all cream leather and overpoweringly air-freshenered; with Peter himself, gold signet ring, slicked hair and wide-boy accent at odds with his decent, endearingly artless character.

  ‘Anyway, down to business,’ he said. ‘We need to find you a place to unpack, don't we? When do you complete? Next week? Well, you've struck gold, babes. I'm the daddy when it comes to short lets and fast service. No shit. I've got contacts all over this city – the best. Name your postcode, say your price and leave the rest to me. You'll have keys before you can say please.’

  The fact that her load had been immediately lightened enabled Thea to slow down and walk calmly back to the Being Well. She'd be in good time for her six o'clock, time enough to go to the newsagent's and buy Heat and a chocolate bar – neither of which she'd fancied of late. Trying to choose between an Aero and a Biscuit & Raisin Yorkie, she spied a roll of Refreshers. But rather than make her want to cry, the sight of them made her seethe. She felt relieved.

  Anger is good. Anger feels empowering. I can act on anger. Sadness and tears are destructive – I can only be shrunk by them.

  She left the shop with a triumphant toss to her head. The smile, however, was wiped clean away when she came face to face with Kiki.

  ‘Hullo,’ Kiki said shyly, scurrying past, as she had done so many times on this street. Thea was rooted to the spot while Kiki walked onwards to the massage parlour. Despite the sky-blue day, out of nowhere fat raindrops suddenly fell, spreading in globs on the warm pavement like ink on grey blotting paper. From the depths of Thea's subconscious, memories of the Shipping Forecast exhibition sprang to the fore.

  Bitch! She was there. That whore said hullo to Saul and then she saw me and scurried off. Fucking cow.

  ‘Oi!’ Thea pivoted and yelled after Kiki just as she disappeared into her place of work. ‘Oi – come back here!’ Thea shouted though her target had gone. Without a second thought, Thea marched her way after her. She didn't look twice at the door, she didn't stop to consider if she had to press a bell, let alone have an appointment. She pushed; it opened; she was in. It was like a takeaway restaurant where you can't see the kitchen but you can sense what's cooking. Only it was very quiet. The subdued lighting, dark-red walls and screened windows contributed to an atmosphere of perpetual twilight. The air was overwhelmingly perfumed by cheaply produced, synthetically scented oil. Behind a bland office desk unconvincingly veneered as mahogany, sat a non-descript middle-aged woman dressed conservatively in a black polo neck. She was obviously startled by the sight of Thea. Not their usual walk-in – but not unheard of, either. All types catered for, and the like. She might even be after a job.

  ‘Where is she?’ Thea barked. ‘That one?’

  ‘I'm sorry, love?’ the receptionist replied.

  ‘The one that just came in!’ Thea said, hands on her hips. ‘Short one – oriental.’

  ‘Kiki?’

  ‘I don't know – the one who came in two seconds before me!’

  ‘Yeah – that'll be Kiki. But Kiki doesn't do – well, you'd be wanting Miss Lula.’

  When Thea grasped the receptionist's allusion, she suddenly felt her stomach twist and her inner voice scream what the hell am I doing in here. ‘I need to see Kiki,’ Thea said in a calm and measured voice. ‘I need to talk to her.’

  The receptionist shrugged. ‘Who are you?’

  Christ. I don't have time for this. I am the girlfriend of a man who may well have paid her for sex.

  ‘Kiki!’ Thea hollered in the vague direction of whatever was behind the stud wall demarcating the reception area. ‘Kiki!’ As footsteps could be heard descending a staircase, Thea and the receptionist stared at each other, mirroring expressions of agitated bewilderment while they anticipated the imminent entrance of a girl, hopefully Kiki.

  It was. ‘Yes?’ she said, looking first to the receptionist and then, visibly confused, to Thea. ‘Hullo?’

  ‘Kiki?’ Thea asked, her eyes darting with adrenalin and unease.

  ‘Yes, I am Kiki?’

  What was Thea meant to say now? She had no idea. She wanted to insult the girl, challenge her, shame her, shove her, make a citizen's arrest. Actually, Thea felt supremely anxious, as though she was being sucked into the vortex of a nightmare. She wanted to run out. But Kiki was standing in the way.

  ‘You need me for something?’ Kiki asked in shy, broken English; her face under the make-up legibly sweet and way too young. You dirty old fucker, Saul.

  ‘You!’ Thea started, pointing at her and wagging her finger in warning simultaneously. ‘You! You!’ Kiki didn't understand. Nor did the receptionist. But neither could afford for a punter to enter into this fray. They'd turn and take their money elsewhere.

  ‘Lady,’ the receptionist said, ‘I think you'd better leave now.’

  ‘But he was mine – and I loved him so.’ Forsaking the velveteen-covered bench, the pile flat and sheened from where punters sat and waited, Thea crumbled dramatically to the floor, sobbing. The receptionist's priority was to get the girl out of reception, out of the house, preferably. Kiki's instinct was to crouch beside the weeping wreck and place a gentle hand on her shoulder.

  ‘I take her,’ Kiki told the receptionist. ‘You give work to Lula or Mitzi, yes? I take her for ten minutes, yes? Come, lady, please you come.’

  Thea was so tired with it all, she didn't bat an eyelid at being led by the hand deep into the brothel by a young prostitute she presumed her ex-boyfriend to have patronized.

  Kiki took Thea right to the top, to a room not dissimilar in size or outlook to the one Thea gave her own massages from. Both had a bed. Both had a sink. But Thea's therapy table wasn't a small double bed laid with a pink sateen coverlet and matching pillows. Thea had a pump bottle of Carex handwash by her sink, not a large tube of lube. This room had a shelf with towels too, but in place of Thea's lotions and potions, was a rather paltry selection of dildos. Curtains, discordantly floral, lined heavily with blackout material, were drawn close
d. The room was shadily lit by a single, central light bulb with a cheap lampshade and a fringed gypsy shawl draped over it.

  ‘Please – you sit,’ Kiki invited, placing herself demurely on the edge of the bed. Her soft voice, neat petiteness and incongruous politeness reminded Thea of the oriental air hostesses on TV adverts for their airlines. ‘You would like water?’ Kiki offered. Thea shook her head. ‘You feeling better?’ Thea shook her head forlornly.

  Slowly she raised her eyes to meet Kiki's. ‘Have you?’ Thea whispered. ‘Did he? My? With you?’ Kiki's brow furrowed; Thea wondered if she had compromised the girl's integrity; client confidentiality. Actually, Kiki was trying to recall what this lady's man looked like. ‘We broke up,’ Thea continued. ‘I need to put phantoms from my mind – OK? I need to know. Did he? Here?’ Kiki didn't appear to recall Saul. ‘Do you remember you saw me and him at a photography exhibition?’ Thea prompted. ‘And perhaps you've seen him along this street?’ Still Kiki looked blank. With a sigh, Thea took the photograph of Saul from her wallet and without looking at it, passed it to Kiki.

  Kiki concentrated hard and then she nodded and smiled. ‘Never with me,’ Kiki was pleased to confirm. ‘Before here I work somewhere else – I think this man came there. But never with me.’ Kiki watched Thea slump. She wondered how to explain in her poor English to this broken, sad lady that she shouldn't doubt the man's love for her. How could she put it to her that men like him were nothing special to any of the girls. And nor would any of the girls be remotely special to him. It was like paying in money at a bank – but he received a flesh receipt, not a paper one. A simple, invariably swift transaction. Kiki knew she'd be hard pressed to explain eloquently and she couldn't expect the lady to understand anyway.

  ‘How many times?’ Thea whispered.

  Kiki shrugged. She didn't actually know the answer but thought the lady would want to hear ‘Once? Twice?’ so that's what she told her. ‘But you work same street here,’ Kiki confirmed, ‘that is more why I know him.’

  ‘What did he want?’ Thea asked.

  Kiki looked embarrassed. ‘I don't know,’ she answered honestly.

  ‘How much? Don't answer,’ Thea said hurriedly, ‘I don't want to know. It's enough that I know for a fact that he has.’ She put her hands over her ears and rocked as she wept.

  Kiki sat herself close next to Thea and gently pulled her hands away, placing them in her lap with hers covering them. Thea considered how pretty Kiki's fingers were. ‘I come from the forest,’ Kiki began, ‘and in the forest we say that true love is one soul in two bodies and that whole love allows the bodies to go this way and that way but the soul always remains. Men they need to—’ Kiki stopped. She clenched her fist and then flicked her fingers to signify what she meant. ‘They just do.’ She shrugged. ‘I am sorry for you. It is most hard to understand.’

  ‘Do you like them?’ Thea asked her. ‘Your clients?’

  ‘They are fine – I am careful. This place is good, the girls are good girls. Clean. I am lucky. Many girls like me not lucky, in danger.’

  ‘Do you hate men?’ Thea probed.

  Kiki smiled and shook her head. ‘No – I don't hate men!’ ‘Do you pity them?’ Kiki didn't seem to understand. ‘Do you feel used?’ Kiki looked a little taken aback. ‘Are you really into sex?’

  Kiki laughed and shook her head. ‘The feeling of sex is nothing special to me. This job is easy. I never feel it in here,’ she says, tapping her heart, ‘I never feel it in here,’ she continues, tapping at her temples. ‘I come from simple family in the forest,’ she qualified, ‘I can send them much money. They are proud of me.’

  ‘Where is the forest?’ Thea asked. ‘Do they know what you do?’ Kiki's fleetingly downcast look answered her. ‘But don't you want a husband? A boyfriend?’

  ‘Oh, I have a boyfriend!’ Kiki glowed.

  Thea looked horrified. ‘But does he know what you do?’

  ‘Yes, he knows. He knows this is just my job and all the love I have I give to him.’ She regarded Thea. ‘We are one soul in two bodies and our love is whole. I go to work and so does he.’

  ‘What does he do?’ Thea asked, half expecting Kiki to say ‘pimp’.

  ‘He owns two shops for sports shoes,’ said Kiki, ‘in Ealing.’

  ‘But,’ Thea sighed heavily.

  ‘Lady – you are beautiful and clever and with special gifts,’ Kiki said softly. ‘Maybe my world seems dark to you? It frightens your soul? It is not so. Mostly it is boring! And mostly the men are just bored. Perhaps a little lonely.’ Kiki laughed shyly. ‘You want to watch? You can watch – I don't mind. You will see it is not – exotique! Sex this way is just very boring.’

  Thea was bizarrely touched but she shook her head to decline. She'd seen and heard enough. ‘You are beautiful too,’ she told Kiki, and she meant it. ‘And you are very kind. I'm sorry for shouting. I am just hurting so much. My world has imploded. Perhaps the truth is that I am weaker than you because I just can't grant Saul the freedom to be himself. I want him to read a book or something when he's bored.’ Thea spoke too fast, too eloquently for Kiki but she could understand her sentiment implicitly.

  Thea's gaze fell on an old travel alarm clock placed surreptitiously in the corner on the floor. ‘Oh Christ, I'm going to be late for my five o'clock,’ she exclaimed. ‘And you will be too,’ Thea regarded Kiki with a brave smile.

  ‘I take you out private way,’ Kiki said. Before they left the room, Kiki turned to Thea. ‘Please, you will remember one soul in two bodies? Men are not bad – they are just being men.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Thea, touched, utterly exhausted and still unconvinced.

  The rain had stopped. The daylight was dazzling. Thea squinted as if she'd been in the dark for a long time. One more client and then she could go home and resume packing. There were two messages on her phone.

  hi hon. shall i swing by 2nite – help u pack? missing u, v v much Sxxx

  fancy supper chez me? wine + dvd? Axxxxxxxx-xxxxxx

  She phoned Alice to say she'd be round at eight.

  She sent a text to Saul as she rushed back to the Being Well. not 2nite – flat chaos Tx

  His reply buzzed through just before she entered her room to commence the session.

  but me going 2 b'ham & glsgw 2moro x2 nites for EMAP focus groups … Sxxx

  Thank God for that, thought Thea.

  Alice, Thea, Mark and Saul

  ‘Mark, can you set up the DVD for Thea and me?’ Alice called from the bathroom. ‘She's coming over while you're at that golf thing. I'm having a Jo Malone luxuriate in the bath – the Tube was mobbed today.’

  ‘No problem,’ Mark replied from the bedroom, changing out of his suit into something more appropriate for a golf expo at the Business Design Centre in Islington. Saul had sent him press tickets. ‘Is she OK, our Thea?’

  ‘She's bored of packing,’ Alice said. ‘Mark – we might need to put her up here with us for a while?’

  ‘Is she OK?’ Mark asked again, his concern genuine. ‘Has something happened with Saul?’ Alice said fine, fine hurriedly. Mark was well aware how Thea and Alice had always been thick as thieves together – momentous events befalling one or the other to be dealt with together in exclusion of the world around them. He both admired and gently envied the self-sufficiency the two of them gained from their friendship. When they'd fallen out a couple of months ago, Alice had seemed so displaced, so at a loss, so narky. He still wasn't any clearer on the cause of their impasse nor did he expect Alice even to sketch Thea's current predicament. Mark considered how, on a scale of intimacy, there was a gulf between men and their close mates and women and their best friends. He could acknowledge that Alice possibly needed Thea in her life more than she did him. But it was easy for him to feel gratitude rather than resentment. Thea was Alice's great leveller; Thea was the one person who could chastise his wife; Thea was Alice's enduring ally and, Mark knew, an important fan of his. He knew only Thea could chide Alice for
her impatience and calm her hot-headedness, that Thea could scold her when she was being churlish; he'd heard her admonish Alice for sulking with him and he knew that Thea reasoned with Alice on his behalf when it came to the pressures and commitments of his job. Good old Thea – he hoped she was all right.

  A buzzing caught his attention; it came from under his discarded work shirt, placed for the moment on the floor until he could transfer it to the laundry basket once Alice vacated the bathroom. Under his shirt he found her phone. He picked it up. Message, it flashed. Paul B, it said. Read now? it asked.

  Paul B?

  Yes, pressed Mark.

  ur a bitch – but gr8 tits

  It took a while for Mark to actually translate the message, being unaccustomed to the abbreviations of text messaging. He was shocked and indignant. Poor Alice being bombarded by filth – like those obscene pop-ups that occasionally assaulted their home computer screen, worming their way onto some seemingly innocuous website or other. He was sure there must be a way to block them from mobile phones. He was about to call through to Alice about it when he stopped and sat down heavily.

  Message Paul B Read now?

  It wasn't unsolicited.

  It couldn't be.

  For the phone to recognize Paul B, Alice needed to have inputted his details. Paul B, whoever he was, was known to her and her tits were known to him. Mark felt less insulted that this Paul B thought his wife was a bitch than he felt mortified that this man was commenting on her breasts. How the hell would he know? Alice was saying something.

  ‘What?’ Mark asked, distractedly, his eyes fixed on the screen of Alice's phone.

  ‘I said, don't hang on for me – I'm sloshing on an intensive pro-vitamin hair-restoration mask and it needs to stay on for ten minutes, then have three rinses.’

  Ten minutes and three rinses. How long did a rinse take? Multiply by three.