Dirty Bad Secrets (23 page)

***

Faye

I was nervous of our birthday bash, not because of any stupid feather masks, or truth or dare games, but because it was my chance to stamp my foot on this club again. To prove I was back, and back to make a difference. I thought it meant so much because it was a general statement, but that was inner dialogue crap. It was about him. All about him. Proving to him irrevocably that I had something to bring to the Explicit table.

And that’s why I’d kept him out of the loop on pretty much everything from the beginning.

I wanted him to be as surprised as everyone else. I wanted him to be impressed, and overwhelmed and excited by the evening just as much as everyone else would be.

Quite pathetic, I know, but the butterflies in my stomach wouldn’t let up those few final days before show time. I checked everything compulsively. Drinks orders, decorations, party games, DJ playlists, lighting sequences, everything.

Our little baby was four years old, and this time it would have both parents at its birthday celebration.

If only Andy could seem as happy about that as I was.

He didn’t seem happy at all most of the time, but that was mainly just him. He buried himself in paperwork and figures, taking on all the practicalities of club management as I indulged my creativity. At least he didn’t moan about that. Not too much, anyway.

We were fucking every night, and waking up together every morning, but the whole
couple
thing wasn’t anywhere close to being resolved. We had an unsteady truce, but the clock was ticking, and my desire to stretch his tight little asshole was becoming too hot to handle.

I piled the cheques ready for banking, the one steady admin responsibility I’d maintained, and I watched him. I watched him brooding over some spreadsheet or another.

“What?” he said. “Don’t think I can’t see you staring.”

I shrugged. “I’m allowed to look, aren’t I?”

“That depends on what you’re looking at.”

“I’m looking at you.” I smiled. “Must you be such a bloody grumpy guts every day?”

“I’m not grumpy. I’m trying to sort this shit out.”

“What shit?”

He patted his knee and my stomach fluttered. I dropped the cheques and made my way over, sucking in my breath as he pulled me down onto his lap. He pointed at rows of figures.

“Enlighten me,” I said. “What am I looking at?”

“Does it matter?” His fingertips found the hem of my pencil skirt and slipped underneath.

“We’re busy,” I protested, but he only nipped at my neck.

“My week, remember?”

“For a few more days.” I spread my thighs for him, gasping as his thumb found my clit through my panties. “And what about when it’s my week?” I asked, arching back against him.

“What about it?”

“You know what about it,” I groaned. “Are you going to let me or not?”

He tensed, but didn’t stop his fingers. “I’m still working things out.”

It riled me, even though he was getting me off, and even though it was his week, and even though I was probably being an unreasonable fucking cow, it still riled me. I clamped my legs shut, brushing his fingers out of the way. “Then I’m still working things out, too.”

And then there were two riled people in the room.

“I was being fucking nice,” he snapped. “I’m allowed to take some fucking time to make my mind up, Faye. You haven’t been back five fucking minutes.”

“That’s getting a bit old, Andy. I’ve been back long enough for you to know how you feel.”

“Feel about what? About you? You might still be a flash in the fucking pan around here for all I know.”

I pushed up from his lap and turned around to face him, perching myself on his desk. I was taller than him, and I liked that. “I’m not a flash in the pan! I’m in here every day, Andy, every single day with you! And I’m in your bed every night, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“So, all I have to do is let you into my fucking asshole as well and we’ll have a triple whammy, is that what you’re saying?”

I couldn’t stop the smile.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he said. “That’s actually it, isn’t it? It’s pathetic, Faye, it really is.”

“Will you do it?”

He returned his attention to his screen. Smoothing down his tie and brushing creases from his trousers. “I don’t fucking know. I haven’t made up my mind.”

“When will you have made up your mind?”

“I’m not sure. When it suits me. You need to learn some fucking patience.”

“I don’t have much patience,” I said, teasing my toes up along his thighs until they were pressed in his crotch. He was hard, but angry, and made to swat them away. “I mean it, Andy, I want everything, remember. I want to
be
everything.”

“Piss off, Faye, I’m working.”

“You weren’t working a minute ago.”

“Yeah, well I’m working now.”

“Fine.” I poked my tongue out and left him to it.

***

Andy

Faye was more nervous than I’d ever seen her, even on our opening night. She was dressed to kill in thigh-length boots and a black latex miniskirt over fishnets, and her corset was tight, and curved and all but welded to her skin. She fastened up the remaining buttons of the cut-off blouse she was wearing over the top, and gave me a twirl. Her hair was loose and curled, splaying around her in perfect waves, and her lips were pouty and glistening and red. Red enough to bite.

“Does this look ok?” God, how her eyes wanted answers. She was stunning, absolutely fucking stunning, and yet her expression was one of abject disappointment. “You don’t like it, do you?”

She started tugging it off, and I had to still her hands with a sigh. “Are you fucking insane? You look gorgeous, Faye.” I leaned towards her but she took a step away.

“No!” she said. “Lipstick!”

“Fine,” I groaned, and straightened my tie in the mirror next to her. I was wearing black in the main, a tasteful tailored number with a black tie to contrast against my fitted white shirt. We matched, the monochrome couple, although it was highly unintentional.

“Show time,” I smiled. “Are you ready?”

“No,” she sighed. “Not really.”

“You’ll be great,” I said. “You know you will.”

“I wish
I
did.”

I breathed in her hair, and she smelled of toffee apples, a new shampoo. I’d seen it in the bathroom, amongst her other ever-growing collection of bottles and lotions. She was taking over the place, laying down roots all over my own apartment, all over me. I didn’t care. I was long past caring. If only she’d just let go of the need to have me at her fucking whim, we’d be just fucking fine.

I’d been banned from my own fucking club that morning, forced to work on my laptop down the street while Faye, Topaz, Cara and Demelza got busy with the decorations. I’d been nothing but a chauffeur, a nice suit in a set of wheels, only now as we stepped in through the main doors, walking up through Savage’s mural into the main bar area, I could appreciate why.

The lighting was different, neons no longer limited to the bar area. They’d spread to all four corners, and the place zinged with a blue metallic glow. There were UV balloons everywhere, massive displays rising from tabletops to ceiling, in turquoise and electric blue. Black balloons, too. So many of them.

My jaw was on the floor, not least when I saw the ice sculptures on stage. They were the same figures as our power coin, two couples, one on the left and one on the right, and they were perfect, crazily accurate in their detail and horny as hell. The clever bitch.

Every booth had a pile of Topaz’s glittery cards, and every booth also had an arrangement of orchids, the ones from the storeroom that Faye had so painstakingly rescued and put back together.

She’d done a great fucking job. An insanely good job. She’d done perfectly.

But it was bittersweet, so bittersweet. Three years she’d bailed for, three years she could have been at my side, mucking in, being creative, doing her fucking share.

“Do you like it?” she asked, and her dark eyes were so nervous.

I tried not to let the emotions show on my face. “It looks excellent.”

“Excellent?”

“Yes, Faye, excellent.”

Her smile was broad and genuine. “Thank fuck for that!” she giggled. “Jesus, Andy, you had me worried there.”

Cara was already warming up for her dance show. We watched her perform on the pole, twirling about the place in a tiny white tutu and black plague doctor mask. It was creepy as fuck, but strangely beautiful.

“Jason Redfern’s confirmed,” Faye gushed. “His girlfriend is going to be dancing later.”

“The redhead?”

“That’s her. She’s got a huge half-face of feathers, apparently it looks really something.”

“Can’t wait.” She didn’t pick up on the snark in my tone and I was grateful.

Three years this club had been my baby, my domain, and now she was back it was like the world had forgotten who’d been here all this time. It wasn’t just me going Faye Devere crazy, they all were. I could see it in their eyes as they squeed and gushed and fluffed about each other. She was the favourite and I was forgotten. The boring one who did all the practical shit in the back office.

I sighed and let it go, trying to focus on the revenue the place would be generating as a result, but I was uncomfortable and I couldn’t shake it off, I didn’t want to shake it off.

We headed to the bar, and there was our little minx Topaz. She looked as transformed as the rest of the place, her green hair threaded with electric blue streaks. She had a tiny silver skirt on, reflecting the neons of the bar, and over the top was the thinnest little baby pink blouse, looped up and tied in a tease of a bow.

“Well look at you,” I said. “Quite the little temptress blossoming before my eyes.”

She blushed, and it was as delicious as always.

Faye stepped to the side while Topaz gave a big
ta da
and unveiled a chocolate cake monstrosity with a flourish. The thing was a tower of decadence taking up the whole bloody corner of the bar top, and there on the top of it were wedding figures, modified wedding figures with whips in their tiny plastic hands. Me and Faye.

Faye really was nervous then. I could see it written all over her face.

“Do you like them?” she said.

I nodded. “Clever.”

“I thought it would be a nice touch, symbolic...”

“Indeed.”

She let it slide, waving goodbye to Topaz and continuing her mission to drag me around the place and point out every little feature, and through every single one she became more desperate, more enthusiastic, ever more keen to see me lose my shit and scream and wail and gush about how exciting it all was, but I wasn’t in that place, not even close.

“Are you ok?” she asked, finally. “You seem a little… distant.”

“I guess I’m just tired.”

She smiled. “But the night hasn’t even begun yet, you’d better find some energy from somewhere.”

“I think I’ll probably stay in the office,” I said. “Watch most of it through the security feed.”

Her face bloomed like I’d slapped her. “You’re not coming?”

“Of course I’m coming, I’m in the building, aren’t I? That counts.”

“No, it doesn’t count.” She smiled to hide her upset, and I felt like a cunt. I
was
being a cunt. And yet I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

I excused myself as the first guests made their way through, and Faye would have followed me, I know it, if Topaz hadn’t pulled her away saying she needed her at front of house.

Faye’s eyes looked back at mine as we went our separate directions and hers were hurt, they were hurt so badly I could have stopped breathing, stopped walking, pulled her into my arms and promised her everything she ever wanted.

But I didn’t. I just kept on walking.

***

Faye

“Hey!” Topaz dashed along behind me, grabbing my elbow before I disappeared into the storeroom. “Faye, what’s wrong?”

I could feel the tears pooling at the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill over and ruin my eyeliner. I tried to stop my lip quivering, and shrugged, mute.

She knew of course. She pulled me into an embrace so much shorter than me, but it didn’t matter. Our sweet little Topaz was growing up. She was wise, and empathic and confident in a way that she hadn’t been when I’d first arrived back, and now she was putting it to great use as my little crutch.

“He doesn’t mean it,” she soothed. “He’s just difficult. It’s probably hard for him to admit this place is fucking rocking tonight.”

“I thought he’d be happy,” I whimpered. “I thought he’d be proud.” And that was it, the tears fell and there was nothing I could do about it. “He expects everything,” I sobbed. “He wants me to work hard, I work hard, he wants me to do a good job and I try my best and he hates it. He wants to be with me, but he won’t be with me, not how I need him to be. He’s hot and cold, and snarky, and bitter and difficult. Always fucking difficult. He’s such an asshole, Topaz. He’s such a fucking asshole.”