Dirty Bad Secrets (6 page)

I brought the handset back to my ear. “Sorry?”

“What happened in Italy, Faye? Why did you come back?”

The slur in his voice, only just detectable. “You’ve been drinking.”

“Answer the question.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I grabbed a pillow, propped it under my head and folded the duvet over me. “I’m going to sleep.”

“How can I trust you won’t walk out again if I don’t know why you’re here?”

“You’ll just have to take my word for it. We’re both adults, Andy, we’ve both got skeletons in the closet.”

“The
thing
yesterday, what was that about?”

“The
sex
, you mean?” My stomach fluttered. “It was about nothing. Forget it happened. I have.”

“I think that’s a lie.”

I stared up at the ceiling. “Is this a thinly veiled attempt at phone sex? I’m too tired for this shit.”

He paused for a long time. “Come back to the club. We’ll drink whisky, you can tell me about Italy, and I’ll fuck you until we pass out.”

My heart pounded. Mouth dry. “I’m already fucked until I pass out, Andy. Knackered. My feet are sore, and I’m already in bed.”

“I’ll call you a taxi, and I’ll be waiting, right here. No dicking about, Faye, are you in, or out?”

I rolled onto my side, smiling into my pillow. “Goodnight, Andy. I’ll see you later.”

It felt strangely liberating to end the call.

***

Faye

Andy punished me hard for my refusal. Not in a good way, either.

Seven days straight. Seven days of corporate professionalism. Seven days on the bar with Topaz and hardly a word from Andy to either of us.

He breezed by, barked out orders, and left us to it. Day after day after day.

I took it at first, sucked it up and did my job. I learnt the ropes and kept the regulars smiling, resuming friendships with the old crowd and striking up new ones. My old friend, Raven, brought me into the loop on her burlesque night Thursdays, and together we tweaked old plans and made new ones. I met her girlfriend, Cara, and she threw some ideas into the pot for an Explicit Dirty Dancing contest, with a gold plated dildo trophy for the winners. We had great ideas, and lots of them. Perfect ideas for taking Club Explicit into a whole new era. A
community
era.

I took them to Andy, but he merely grunted, unimpressed.

As the second week started I’d had enough. More than enough. I was pissed off and riled up, and sick to fucking death of his dismissive sulking. I’d had a bad morning.

A really bad morning.

I didn’t grace him with a knock at the door. I charged in with purpose, armed with a can of polish, a feather duster and enough determination to pull down the Berlin wall single-handed. I pulled my old desk from the corner, dumping the printer, and shredder and piles of old paperwork on the floor, and then I cleaned it. Dusted it off with gusto as he watched me from across the room.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“What does it look like?” I snapped. “I’m sick of playing barmaid. You pushed it too far.”

“I haven’t even started yet.”

“I’m a fifty-fifty partner, I’m done with your sulking.” I dragged the desk across the room until it lined up with his, just like old times. Then I wheeled the spare chair around, grabbed a handful of biros and an Explicit notepad from the stationery drawer. “Where can I get a phone?”

“You don’t need a phone,” he grunted. “Or a desk.”

“Fine. I’ll take yours.” I’d grabbed his handset before he could stop me, trailing it to my station and plonking it down on the corner.

He scowled as he came to claim it back. “Don’t be so fucking childish. I need that.”

“You’re the one who’s being childish,” I said. “I didn’t fuck you. So what? I was tired, I had blisters on my feet, and I was in bed. This is ridiculous, Andy. Fucking ridiculous. Maybe I did want to fuck you. Maybe I would have done, if you hadn’t been such a fucking prick about the whole thing. You could’ve just asked again. A different night, but that would have been too reasonable, wouldn’t it? Too easy?”

“Have you finished? You think this is all because you said no to sex? Do I look like some kind of desperado to you?”

“Isn’t it?”

“No, of course not. I was drunk. You made the right call.”

“I made a
tired
call.”

“You said you’d work bar, you’re working bar.” He stole the phone back. “That’s what we agreed. That’s what
you
agreed.”

“Not like this!” I hissed. “Pulling pints while you ignore me 24/7.”

“And what did you expect it to be like? Us holding hands and skipping about the place like nothing ever happened? This isn’t the fucking Waltons. Get back to the bar, Faye, do your fucking job.”

I folded my arms. “My job is here.”

“We played for it, you lost. A deal’s a deal.”

“So, we play again.”

“Nice try.”

“Don’t do this.” I slammed my palms on the desk. “I’m good at what I do, that’s why we went into business. I know what I’m talking about. I have ideas, good creative ideas. Don’t fucking ignore me, Andy. I won’t be fucking ignored!”

“Drink delivery arrives midday. You can rearrange the spirits. Get as creative as you fucking like.”

“I’m not arranging the fucking spirits! I’m not leaving this room. It’s my office, too!”

He tugged the desk away from me, angling it back towards the corner until I slapped his hands and attacked his fingers. “Stop it, Faye. You’re making a fool of yourself.” I fought him like a kid, clinging onto the desk leg like a limpet, holding tight as he tried to shove it back where it came from. I gave it up with a sigh, yanking his tie in frustration so hard it almost toppled him off balance. “What the hell’s got into you?”

The messages on my phone, Andy. Ten of them in a row. Ten messages from him, all this morning. Begging, pleading, promising. But I don’t want to go back there, I need something to cling onto, a reason for staying.

I gave up the fight, flopping back in my chair. “Nothing, Andy. Just nothing.”

“Faye? What the hell’s this about?”

“You,” I lied. “It’s about you. The way you treat me like a second class citizen. The way you ignore me.”

“I treat you just like anyone else.”

I scowled to hide the upset. “But I’m not just anyone else. I’m your business partner.”

“Who walked away three years ago.
You
walked. Don’t preach to me about being ignored, Faye, you’ve got a fucking cheek.”

“Yes, yes, yes. I fucking walked. And then I walked
back.
” I picked up a biro from the floor, twirled it in my fingers, round and round. It took him by surprise when I launched it at the wall. It spotted black ink across the magnolia, and Andy’s face looked like I’d given him a slap. “I’m done. I’ll call a lawyer, we’ll get this sorted properly.”

He folded his arms, blocked my path before I’d even shifted. “That’s absurd. It’ll cost a fucking fortune, drag us both through a load of shit that I quite frankly don’t have time for.”

“I just want a desk, and a phone and a fucking desk tidy... Is that too much to ask?”

“It wouldn’t work. I don’t share.” He straightened his tie, adjusted his collar. Checked himself out in the mirror on the far wall. “We’d argue day and night over fucking paperclips.”

“How about we just take it in turns?” I looked up at him, and my eyes were welling, I could feel it. Too fragile, much too fragile. “Think back to when we started, to all the ideas we had. All the ideas
I
had. You used to like them, you used to listen.”

“That was a long fucking time ago.”

“You remember, though?”

“Of course I remember. I remember everything. I’m the one who stayed.”

“You wouldn’t even need to be here when it was my go. Take some time off, go on holiday. I can handle the place, I swear.”

His eyes were hostile. “I’ve been here seven days a week since we opened. Every day, Faye. Every. Single. Day. You think I’m just going to abandon ship because you want to play Club Manager? Not pissing likely. What’s going to happen when you get bored and flit off again?”

“I’m not going to.” I groaned. “Jesus, Andy, give me a chance. Please.”

His hands were in his hair as he paced up and down.

I dug my phone from my pocket, stomach turning to find another message icon. I cleared it without reading, then looked up lawyers on Google. Commercial lawyers. I dialled the first number I found. “Hello? Yes, my name is Faye Devere, I have a company law dispute I’d like to speak with someone about...” Andy’s face turned white before my eyes. “Yes, a limited company, that’s right. Club Explicit Ltd. The company number? I’ll just grab it for you.” I was reaching for the printed notepad when Andy grabbed the handset from my hand and cancelled the call in a heartbeat, eyes black as coal.

“Don’t,” he said. “No fucking lawyers, Faye. It’ll bring a whirlwind of trouble.”

“You don’t want to play it out, and you don’t want lawyers. What
do
you want?”

“I’m thinking,” he snapped. I gave him time, eyes drawn to the muscles in his thighs as he paced. “I won’t share and you won’t back down. So we play for it. Seven day terms. That’s all we ever play for. If one of us wins three weeks in a row the fourth is a moot call. It goes to the other. If you let me down, Faye, I swear I’ll never work with you again.”

“Seven days.” I breathed a sigh of relief.

“It’s a short enough timeframe that either of us can fuck off and get some space if we need it.”

“Fine. I like it.” I tipped my head back, stared at the ceiling. “You want to do the playroom again? You can go first.”

He shook his head. “We need another way. Something less... invasive.”

“Draw straws?” I said. “Flip a coin?”

A flicker of inspiration and he was off like a shot. “I have just the thing.”

***

Andy

I hid the twisting of my gut behind a veneer of calm. The woman was wired, fucked up somehow. I flashed her a look over my shoulder as I rummaged in my drawer. She wasn’t close enough to peer inside, thank fuck.

This power share was a non-event, it would never work. A short-lived novelty and it would be all over. I’d be calling my own lawyer and ironing out the cracks.
The cracks
. Chasms, more like. In the meantime I’d play the game. Maybe she’d be long gone by the time necessity came calling.

The idea filled me with relief and dread in equal measure.

I found what I was looking for and held it up with a flourish. “Lucky coin.”

Recognition flashed across her eyes. “I haven’t seen that in a long time.”

“Haven’t used it in a long time.” I sat down at my desk, and Faye wheeled her chair opposite. A solid gold coin, made to order. One side showed a woman riding a man, her head high as she had her way with him. The other side was reversed, the man pinning the woman down, fucking her hard. A switch coin of my own design. One simple toss and power was assigned. A kingmaker of sorts. I’d had a lot of fun with that coin in years gone by. A smile flickered on my lips at the memories. “You remember how this works?”

She held out a hand and I passed it over. She flipped it in delicate fingers. “Much more relevant than heads or tails.”

“Quite.” I gestured for the coin, but she held it high.

“I don’t trust you with it,” she said. “You might have a trick.”

I sighed. “It’s a fucking coin, Faye. Nothing sinister. It’s not weighted, there are no tricks.”

“Even so.”

I shrugged, impatient. “Fine. You toss.”

“And this is it? The winner is set for seven days?”

I nodded. “Our weeks will run from Sunday morning to Sunday morning, just after we close. It makes sense to do it that way. This week will be slightly shorter, but we’ll live with that. We’ll lock up from the Saturday shift and toss the coin. Deal?”

“Fine. Let’s do it.” She kept the coin in her fingers, playing with it. “What are the rules? Winner has complete control?”

“Within reason,” I said. “No major refurbishments, no major policy changes, just day to day authority.”

“Ok.” She tossed the coin in the air and her eyes sparkled as they followed it. I was looking at her, not the coin when it landed. The sag of her shoulders told me I’d taken the week. A quick glance confirmed my win. Sure enough the man was fucking the woman. A thrill ran through me.

“Shit,” she said.

“You tossed. That’s the way it fell. Fate has spoken.”

She looked so sad I felt almost guilty. “I’ll go back to the bar, then. Congratulations, Andy. You win, again.”

“For the week,” I pointed out. “It’s hardly a win.”

Faye looked more exhausted than I’d ever seen her. Exhausted and agitated. She rose from her seat like a woman defeated. I scooped the coin up and into my pocket.

A niggle inside, something brewing. “What’s going on today, Faye?”

“Nothing.”

I reeled through her known family. A mum and dad on the south coast, one brother and three sisters, mainly living close to home. “Everyone ok?”

“Everyone’s fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

She picked up her mobile from my desk, and it buzzed in her grip. I couldn’t miss the flinch, the wide eyes. She didn’t check the message. “I’ll get on and sort that drink delivery when it arrives.”

“Thanks.”

She didn’t look at me again on her way to the door, and I was glad she missed the warring emotions on my face. I felt myself caving, guilt and fear making me weak.

“Faye, wait.” I dragged her stupid old empty desk back into the centre of the room. Her chair, too. I even chucked a load of biros on there, and a notepad. “I’ll have to sort you out a phone extension, I think I have a handset downstairs in the storeroom.”

Her eyes were guarded. “Is this another game?”

“No game,” I said. “You can work here until you get too big for your boots or we argue to death before the week is up.” I gestured to her chair. “Just don’t push your luck.”

She sat herself down and arranged her pens in some rudimentary kind of order, then shot me the only genuine smile I’d seen from her in days.