Breaking Leila (32 page)

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
shrugged 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?”

Dad scowled at
her. “Leave her alone, Bridge. She’s having a time of it.” He sank
down beside me and patted my knee. “At least she’s not a
lesbian.”

“Maybe I am.” I
rolled my eyes.

Mind you,
there’s a thought.

“I don’t care
what you are,” Mum went on, “but you don’t seem particularly
happy.”

“Dumping
someone doesn’t put me in a party mood,” I grumbled. “Is it
supposed to?”

“It’s just,
your father and I…we saw Matt and we thought you’d moved on,
maybe.”

“Moved on from
what?” I asked, suspicious.

She pressed her
lips together. “Never mind. We were just puzzled, I suppose. I can
dig out some of my old feminism papers if it’ll make you feel
better about being single…”