Breaking Leila (14 page)

I inhaled too
fast as a bare hand caressed my hips. Did he know how raw and
erotic he could be?

There was a
loud bang on the door.

“What are you
 
doing
 
in there?” Johnny called amid
the sniggers.

“Get lost!”
Matt yelled. “Give us five minutes.”

A key scraped
in the door lock, and for a second, he clutched the towel over my
body, afraid of intrusion. It didn’t come.

I thought
briefly about guiding Matt’s hand down and showing him where I was
still wet, but it wouldn’t lead to anything advisable. Not then,
anyway.

“I suppose we
should get dressed.” He rifled through the bundle of old kit.
“Bunch of arseholes–have you seen what they’ve given us?”

I winced at
what he held up. “Those are some short shorts.”

“They’re age
eleven to twelve, that’s why.”

“They’re yours,
right?”

He walked up
behind me, pulled the towel away and held the shorts up over my
thighs.

“I think they’d
suit you better,” he said gruffly. “Put them on.”

“Yes sir!” I
pulled them tight over my buttocks, twisting round in the mirror.
“It’s a good job these are a dark colour.”

He tossed me a
shirt in a slightly larger size and I pulled it over my head.

“I look
ridiculous.” I giggled.

“
You
 
look ridiculous? Have you seen
the state of me?”

I had to clutch
the bench while I laughed at him. He wore a humungous shirt, and
shorts that were obscenely tight. “You can’t go out like that,
Matt!”

He tied another
shirt around his waist by the arms. “How about now? Will my package
still scare small children?”

“It’d scare
grown women, let alone small ones.”

He squared his
shoulders, grinning. “You think?”

“Oh, be quiet.”
I combed my fingers through my wet curls. So much for
straightening. “I take it we’re calling a cab, right?”

“One of the
lads will drop us back. We’re owed.” He came close and tied another
shirt around my waist for modesty. “Can’t have the world seeing
your…er…”

“Muffin?”

“Is that the
technical term?”

“Close enough.”
I toyed with the shirt arms that dangled from the knot at his
waist; I couldn’t stop thinking about what lay beneath. I hadn’t
come on Matt yet, not with him inside me. He filled me so
beautifully, too.

I gazed up at
him, my lips parted.

“I want to kiss
you,” he murmured, “but I reckon we both know it’s a bad idea.”

I nodded
reluctantly, stepping away to gather my wet clothes. We made our
way down the corridor, and I waited while Matt disappeared back
into the noisy hall. He returned with Johnny two minutes later.

Johnny looked
me up and down and gave a loud tut.

“I see what you
mean, Matthew. It does make her look a bit chubby.”

I glared at
him, which only made him laugh harder.

“I’d hit him,”
Matt said, “if I thought it would do any good.”

I smiled
brightly. “Hit him anyway.”

Matt obliged
with a sharp clout on Johnny’s left shoulder. As predicted, he
barely noticed in his amusement.

“Come on, you
two. Let’s get you home. No making babies on the backseat though,
okay?”

“I’m sure we can restrain ourselves.” Matt snuck a glance at
me. It said,
 
because we do that now. No more dirty secrets.

Well-behaved,
hmm.

We strode out
into the sharp night air, fell into Johnny’s Auris and rode home in
prickly, damp Nylon. Matt got out and walked me up to my door. He
leaned against the frame awkwardly, not knowing what to do with his
hands.

“So,
tomorrow,” I said. “What’s the plan, Mr Chauffeur?”

“I thought we
might as well leave straight from work. We get out later than
everyone else on a Friday anyway. We can walk back to get our bags,
and then I’ll swing by and pick you up.”

“Sounds good to
me.” I fiddled in my bag and drew out a jingly handful of keys.

“Toby is
coming, by the way,” he added, frowning slightly. “You ought to
know…he overheard our conversation the other night. He knows what
you do.”

I shifted from
foot to foot. “I kind of overheard him, too.”

“I’ve told him
not to ask you any dodgy questions, but he’s a law unto himself
when he gets drunk.”

I raised an
eyebrow. “We’re getting drunk?”

“Thought I’d
take you down to my favourite club. Seems a shame to waste a Friday
night.” He grinned.

“It won’t be
some awful hard house place where everyone is doing fairy dust,
will it?” My key wobbled in the lock before it twisted open.

“Leila.
Seriously–do you really think I listen to that shite?”

“You do own a
floral tie.”

“Yeah, well. I
also own a ‘Jesus is a Cunt’ t-shirt from my goth and emo days.” He
laughed. “Which reminds me…” He leaned in to place a hand on my
back. “I’d like to see you in something a bit burlesque. It’d be
fitting.”

“Oh you would, would you? I’ll just rifle through the costume
box and see what I can come up with.” His hand felt so warm through
the shirt as I leaned back against it. This assertive side of him
was cute–like his version of ordering for me in a
restaurant.
 
I’ll have the semi-relationship served rare, with a side of
self-torture. She’ll have frustration for starters, three different
imagined fucks for mains...and bloody like it.
 
I needed to warn him that
Charlotte got grumpy if she went without dessert.

“I’m glad we
made up,” he whispered.

“Me too.” Our
date-type-thing had turned us into a twisted couple-type-thing. I
didn’t know quite what to make of that…but I sure as hell wanted to
visit a different restaurant.

“I’ll see you
tomorrow, then.”

“Wait a sec.
You never told me Eton’s real name.”

He cringed.
“Galahad.”

“Oh my God!” I put a hand over my mouth to stem the
sniggering. “What were his parents
 
thinking
?”

“Jaunty
Arthurian legends, apparently.”

As he
disappeared into the lift, I waved my free hand, chafed into my
shadowy flat, then fumbled with light switches and stripped off at
the same time.

When I finally
dug the phone from my dark pit of a handbag, a message sat on the
screen:

Are you still
awake, baby? J x

I took a deep
breath, switched the phone off and went to bed.

Chapter 7

I’d marked the
day I turned eighteen by attending my uncle’s funeral.

We never saw
much of him. He lived in Manchester and I remember the hills
turning grey as we drove north. I was bemused by my parents’
silence–it poured over the wobble of the radio, as if noise and
noiseless were layers in a sandwich. It wasn’t my first funeral,
but I didn’t remember everything being so…still at the others.

Bodies
clustered outside the crematorium, moons for dead planets of
carnation and lily. I made small talk, shook hands, nodded and
smiled at anecdotes I didn’t recognize. Behind me, grief shook its
smoky fist every time I fell through its fingers.

I didn’t get
it. I couldn’t cry. I knew I ought to feel something, but as the
coffin disappeared behind the curtains, all I felt was relief.
There was respect, and yet a glaring lack of it in the absence of
tears.

That
disconnection was what monogamy felt like. I had been unfaithful
often enough to know.

Even then, when
I left the arms of a boy to fall into those of a man, I knew I was
different. There should have been an echo of guilt in those languid
office fucks, but instead, I buzzed between the sheets it creased.
Just like buying a jigsaw puzzle, finishing it and finding an extra
piece–there was no space for monogamy, and had I laid it beside my
jagged edges, it would have been ripped to shreds. Charlotte took
that last piece and made an exhibition of it. A mockery.

So Matt and
Joseph had showed me what it was like to have both of them at the
same time. Oh, there was room for them there–they stretched me taut
and blissful. Little deaths. It had been the most exhilarating
night of my life.

Then, they took
it away.

Did they
realize what they’d done?

* * * *

I shouldn’t
have called William when drunk. It had given him my other mobile
number, which would explain why he was ringing me at near midnight
on Thursday.

“Is this
revenge?” I groaned.

“Are you
defecating?” he asked cheerfully.

“Eww, no.”

“Well then.” He
paused to chuckle. “I’m sorry it’s so late, but I totally forgot
about tomorrow night–”

“You forgot
about your own wedding?”

“Feasible! But
no. I just spoke to Aidan and it occurred to me–I don’t know if you
two are still doing your little show, what with you deserting the
industry.”

Bollocks
.

Months ago,
Aidan and I had agreed to do our little exchange student skit–for a
small and discreet audience–as a wedding gift to Angus and William.
At the time, it had been like agreeing to do any other job. So much
so that I had utterly forgotten it.

“But Aidan
can’t make it.” I hoped that was a good enough excuse; Charlotte
rolled her eyes at me.

“Yes he can. He
told me about that.”

“About what?” I
said suspiciously.

“That he lied
so you’d bring your boyfriend.” William laughed in throaty
octaves.

“He’s an arse!
When I get hold of him–”

“So what’s the
situation? If it would bother your boyfriend, I’ll understand. You
can just get us the traditional Wedgewood. Do you think they have a
special collection for fag weddings? Feels like they might.”

“He’s not my
boyfriend!” I shouted down the phone.

“The lady doth
protest too much. Shall I book the room anyway and let you think
about it?”

“Um. Ugh. I
don’t know, Will.” Matt and I had just made such headway–slinking
off to perform in a sex show would not go down well.

“I’ll book the
room. Let me know.” He hung up.

Incensed, I
stabbed in Aidan’s number.

“You bastard!”
I shrieked.

“Lei-Lei. We
have had this talk about your language.” I could hear him
grinning.

“Why did you tell William I had a boyfriend? In fact, why did
you even
 
assume
 
that Matt was my boyfriend? Why did you threaten me with
Metro Paul?”

“Calm down. I
was just trying to be a good friend.”

“Good friends
don’t lie!” I wailed.

“Shush,
Lei-Lei. I take it Will rang about tomorrow night?”

“I totally
forgot,” I groaned. “I feel so guilty. But I can’t do it, not
now.”

“Not now you
have a boyfriend, heh?”

“Oh fuck off,
Aid.” I paused. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He
laughed. “But why can’t you? You know it would be fun…”

“How do you
suggest that I tell him?”

“You could lie.
That’s what good friends do. Tell him you’re off for a spa
treatment or something. That facial,” he tittered.

“I’m not
lying.”

“Then be
honest. Explain to him. Ask him if he minds.”

“Are you
insane?”

“No, I’m being
serious. He knows what you do–he hired you himself, for God’s sake.
He might have a better reaction than you think.” He paused. “I’d
suggest that you invite him to watch, but once he experiences my
manwhore proportions, he’s going to feel awfully insecure.”

“Fuck off. I
meant that one,” I added.

“Well, you know
what I think. And I’d love one more little game with you.” His
voice lulled beneath the weight of suggestion. “For old times’
sake.”

I blushed.
“I’ll think about it, okay?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow. And I still have your costume.” He
hung up with a loud
 
beep
.

Second time
it’d happened to me that night. Did that make me well hung?

Sorry, that one
was awful.

* * * *

Joseph had
scheduled a working lunch on Friday to “talk about my future with
the company.” He did so not by booking it with Sadie, but with
another bunch of peonies on my desk–this time, laced with fat
sprigs of lilac. All over the office, the sweet scent made the air
burst into colour.

Joseph would
have noticed the lilacs on my bedside table as he pinned me, still
soaking, to the cool sheets, and rubbed my flesh to friction
burns.

“Another job?”
There was a low rise to Matt’s tone that unsettled me.

“Just a
meeting.”

“I don’t get flowers for my meetings.” Files smacked together
in a heap as he emptied his briefcase. Slap.
 
Slap
.

“No,” I teased,
“you get them from drunk girls while you’re hosting rugger bugger
breakfast club.”

He didn’t smile
back.

One o’clock rolled around and I headed out to meet Joseph,
who had been out with his
 
real
 
solicitors all morning. He’d
booked the same restaurant that we’d dined at on Isobel’s birthday,
and it was as gloriously pristine in the sunshine as in candle
light.

I wished I’d
worn something more formal than my fennel wrap-over dress.

Joseph stood up
to greet me, planting a kiss achingly close to my mouth. He smelled
like lemon and tarragon: fresh and wild.

“Good morning?”
I asked.