Bad Boys of London: The Complete GYPSY HEROES Collection (72 page)

SHANE

I take my foot off the gas as I come up to the next red light. Fuck. My fingers drum on the dashboard. I rest my elbow on the window of my car and squeeze my temples. I always knew she was something special. I turn my eyes and catch the gaze of a man in a seven series BMW. He shakes his head with distaste because I am unconsciously revving my thunderous V8 engine impatiently and it is annoying him.

‘What the fuck are you looking at?’ I snarl, and the little coward immediately stares straight ahead.

The light turns yellow and I hammer the gas pedal and fly off the mark. Up ahead I see a U-turn sign. I could take it. But that would be madness. Gritting my teeth I keep my foot on the accelerator. I pass it. I can’t believe how angry and resentful I feel. Soon I hit the motorway. For twenty minutes I drive. I know he will have called by now.

I hit the music and Lana Del Ray’s Summertime Sadness comes on.

My car eats up the miles and in my head I see only the expression on her face when I left her. I have just given her back to him.  What the hell was I fucking thinking of? I feel bitter, as if I have been cheated. What I really want to do is drive back to her place right now and take back what is
mine
. Fuck the consequences. But a sane inner voice stops me.
It is you who made these arrangements. This is the safe way. This way you get the girl and keep Lenny off both your backs.

My mind turns to her in the forest.

How sweetly she gave herself to me. I could have done anything to her and she would have let me. And the way she had looked at me with those big, green eyes full of trust and innocence when I took her little ass and made it mine. And then I think of that ugly fuck, Lenny, touching her. And I feel fire burn in my belly.

Fuck it.

I’m not fucking giving her up to him. Not even for one day. Fuck the safe way. Change of plan, asshole. She’s mine. She was mine from the moment I laid eyes on her.

SNOW

I close the door and the house is as silent as tomb. I take my little suitcase into my bedroom. The flowers I bought on Wednesday are dead. I put the suitcase on the bed and go back out to the living room. I sit on the sofa and put my mobile phone beside me and wait.

When the phone rings I jump. I take a deep breath and wait for the third ring before I pick it up.

‘Hello.’ He sounds like he is drunk or high. I’ve seen him take cocaine from the dining room table before. He’s even offered it to me, but I didn’t want to and he said, ‘You’re right. Maybe you shouldn’t. Your head’s fucked enough as it is.’

‘Hello,’ I say. My voice is beautifully normal. It appears I am just as capable of deceit as Lenny is. Still, Lenny never promised me fidelity. That was never in the cards.

‘How are you, luv?’

For some reason that endearment grates on my nerves. I’m not his luv and I never will be. ‘I’m fine,’ I reply.

‘Good. I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Don’t forget I’m taking my girl out to a fancy restaurant tomorrow night.’

I feel a stab in my chest. I’m not his girl. He’s been with two prostitutes. Not that I care or ever cared. I just don’t want to sleep with him anymore. I don’t want to go out with him. I don’t want him to touch me. Ever again. I hear myself say, ‘OK.’

‘Right, I’ll call you when I touch down. Goodnight, Snow.’

‘Goodnight, Lenny.’

I kill the call and lay the phone down on the table. Tomorrow night looms on the horizon. What on earth am I going to do? Oh God! I cover my face with my hands. What a mess.

My phone rings again making me jump. I pick it up and look at the screen.

Number withheld.

My heart starts beating fast in my chest. I accept the call.

‘Hello,’ I say cautiously.

‘Will you have dinner with me tomorrow night?’

My heart soars with joy. He called. He called. It isn’t over. Then reality hits. My heart sinks like a heavy stone inside my body. ‘I can’t go. I’ve already agreed to meet Lenny for dinner.’

‘Yeah? Well, poor old Lenny won’t be able to make it for dinner with you tomorrow. He will be otherwise tied up.’

I feel a wild rush of joy flash through every cell and nerve in my body. It comes out as a mad giggle even as I wonder what exactly he means by tied up. More prostitutes? More business deals that Lenny simply can’t say no to?

‘Snow,’ he calls softly.

‘Yes,’ I whisper, gripping the phone hard.

For a few seconds he is quiet. ‘Wear something pretty tomorrow.’

‘I will,’ I say, and I am smiling from ear to ear.

‘Goodnight, Snow.’

‘Goodnight, Shane.’

Oh my God. We’re having dinner tomorrow.

I place the phone on the table and, jumping up to my feet, do a totally mad dance around the coffee table.

‘Yes. Yes. Yes.’

It seemed as if he couldn’t wait for me to get out of his car so I thought he didn’t want me anymore. But he
does
want me.

I stop suddenly. And what of the next day? What will I tell Lenny when he wants to have dinner with me on Tuesday? Or Wednesday? How long can Shane keep him busy? How will I escape from Lenny?  

Monday passes with interminable slowness. Lenny gets into Heathrow at nearly midday and calls me from the back of his car. He sounds upbeat, but ends the phone call by saying that something has come up and he won’t be able to make dinner today.

‘That’s OK,’ I say quickly. ‘I need an early night anyway.’

‘Why?’ he asks immediately, his voice suddenly different.

But I am a better liar than I could ever have imagined. ‘I didn’t sleep very well last night.’

‘Nightmares?’ he asks quietly.

And instantly I feel like a bitch. What I am doing is so wrong. I am cheating on someone who has only ever been good to me. I have to do something about my situation, and fast. I close my eyes and, taking a deep breath, I lie. ‘No, not nightmares. I think I ate something that didn’t agree with me. I kept going to the toilet.’

‘Ah well, in that case it’s for the best that we are not doing dinner today. Rain check for tomorrow?’

‘Tomorrow,’ I repeat softly, guiltily.

Nineteen

SNOW

M
ore than an hour before Shane is due to pick me up I start panicking. I don’t know why I am more nervous today than I was even when he was taking me away to France. Then I had no expectations. Now my feelings are involved. I really, really like Shane.

I practically pull nearly all my clothes out of my wardrobe, and still feel that nothing I have is suitable for tonight. Everything is either too short, too long, too tight or just too meh. I want to look perfect for Shane.

A bath,
I think. A bath always calms me right down. I chuck a soap bomb into the water and wait for it to fizzle out before I pour a good one fifth of a bottle of oil into it. I lie in it and take deep calming breaths, but even that doesn’t relax me. The turmoil is inside my tummy.

Impatiently, I wash my hair and get out of the bath. I wave the hair dryer at my head and brush it until it is as sleek as the coat of a black panther. Wrapped in a towel, I go back into the bedroom and stand in front of the clothes strewn all over my bed.

Red. I’ll wear red. I slip into red, satin and lace matching underwear. I hook on suspenders and carefully pull on sheer nearly black stockings.

I look in the mirror. Not bad.

I put all the other clothes back into the wardrobe and slip into my red dress. It is a fitted, tailored thing with buttons all the way down the front that makes it look like I am wearing a long, tight jacket that comes to the middle of my thighs. Because it has long sleeves I will only need to carry a light coat for when it gets colder.

I paint my lips in a similar shade to the dress and carefully pull the mascara wand a couple of times over my eyelashes. Then I sit on the bed and pull on shiny black, patent leather boots. I find a little red clip in a drawer and I slide it into my hair. Finally, I dab perfume at my pulse points.

I find my red purse and put my lipstick, my credit card, a wad of tissue, a couple of mints, and as I always do, my little pill container with a few of my pills in them. That done, I kill the rest of the time by pacing the floor restlessly.

When Shane arrives he calls me on my mobile and waits for me downstairs. I go down and for a second he does not see me. He is leaning against the glass, his hands jammed into the pockets of his black jeans and he’s staring at the floor. He looks remote and preoccupied. As if the weight of the whole world is on his shoulders. I start walking towards him. He looks up and straightens, stares at me with such an odd expression that I stop walking, my stomach sinking, and I ask, ‘What is it?’

He shakes his head and a small smile lifts the corners of his lips. ‘Everything’s good. You look amazing.’

Shane takes me to a restaurant called Lady Marmalade. It is only when we get there that I realize that Lenny has taken me there before. I debate whether to tell him and I decide that I will, but later, when we are seated, I will casually mention it then. It’s not like it is important.

We walk in through the doors and a man in a navy suit rushes out to greet Shane. He claps his hand on Shane’s back in a familiar manner and Shane calls him as Mario. There is only one word to describe the man’s behavior: effusive. His eyes turn to me and quickly travel down my body the way Italian waiters do, half-professional, half-over-the-top-leering. With great enthusiasm he shows us to a table in the middle of the restaurant. Almost immediately, waiters start dancing around us, flicking napkins open, flourishing menus.

I am still studying my menu when a tall, broad man strides up to us.

‘Hey,’ the man says to Shane, his face lit up with genuine pleasure. He looks very much like Shane, but he is a little older, and while Shane’s looks are more classically handsome, this man is more aggressive looking with a strong, stubborn jaw.

Shane looks up and smiles at him. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

‘Bloody cheek,’ the man says with a laugh. ‘I’m on my way out actually.’

Shane turns towards me. ‘Snow, meet my brother, Dom. Dom, meet Snow.’

Dom turns to me with a smile which freezes on his face. He frowns as he tries to remember. I recognize him at the same time he remembers me. I’ve seen him once before. Then it suddenly comes to me. He owns this restaurant. He came to say hello to us when I was here with Lenny, but it was months ago, and I was so spaced out on my pills then that I did not really take note.

‘Hello, Snow,’ he says. His voice has lost all its humor and cheer.

‘Hi,’ I say awkwardly. I look at Shane and he is staring quizzically at me.

‘I’ve been here before with Lenny,’ I explain quietly, my heart sinking.

Shane nods slowly, his eyes betraying a spasm of fury, then he squashes it down and turns to his brother.

‘Look,’ Dom says tightly, ‘it’s none of my business, but—’

‘Then don’t fucking get involved,’ Shane cuts in. His voice is cold and clipped.

I stare at him in shock. I have never seen him as anything but cheeky and charming, but Dom doesn’t appear to take any offence at his brother’s openly hostile tone.

‘I’ll talk to you tomorrow,’ he says quietly. There are deep worry lines on his forehead. Unlike my brother who can’t even stand to be in the same room as me he must love Shane very much to care so deeply that his brother is going out with Lenny’s girl.

‘Sure. I’ll call you,’ Shane says distantly.

His brother turns towards me. ‘Goodnight. Enjoy your meal,’ he says formally.

‘Thank you,’ I whisper.

He turns away and takes two steps before turning back to look at Shane. ‘I’ll be waiting for your call.’

Shane nods.

His brother walks away and Shane turns back to me. ‘I suppose you’ve lost your appetite.’ His voice crackles with aggression, but his gaze is innocuous.

I nod slowly.

The expression on his face changes and he looks at me wistfully. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

Seeing the look of disappointment in his eyes as if I have betrayed him, is unbearable. Tears sting the backs of my eyes. I feel as if I have ruined everything. Unable to look into his eyes I gaze down at my clenched fists. ‘I’m sorry,’ I tell my hands. ‘I was going to. Really I was. I just didn’t want to spoil our evening.’

I look up and he is leaning back against the chair and looking at me expressionlessly.

Mario appears at Shane’s elbow, his large smile quickly faltering at the tension he finds between us. ‘Something to drink perhaps?’ he suggests uneasily.

Shane doesn’t look at him. ‘Can you give us a minute, Mario?’

‘Certainly,’ Mario says, and with an expansive gesture, backs off.

Shane sighs. ‘Do you want to stay, Snow?’

‘Are you going to carry on being angry?’ I ask anxiously.

His mouth twists ruefully. ‘I’m not angry now.’

‘It sure looks like it to me,’ I say miserably.

He reaches a hand out and gently traces his knuckle along my jaw line. ‘My poor Snow. Did you have fun here with Lenny?’ he asks.