Irrepressible You (33 page)

She looked like a wild lady, eyes unnaturally shiny, face pale and streaked with mascara and clothes far too casual. This wouldn’t do at all. She’d be damned if she’d give Ben any more ammunition to write about next week. If she was going to do this, she’d bloody well do it
right
. Ben had already found more than enough in her behaviour to write up for the amusement of his readers; she’d be damned if she’d give him anything more.

Ben stood up, rubbed his hand over his jaw, stretched out his muscles and threw his phone onto his desk. He’d been stuck on a conference call with his lawyer and Colin for the past two hours and had reached the limit of his civility. What did the French call small-picture people?
Fuckers of flies
–that was it. He’d have to share that with Colin later, who’d been just as exasperated as he had in having to go through the tedium of a lawyer dissecting the draft of Ben’s manuscript to determine whether or not it contained anything that would invite litigation.

Ben knew it was a completely unnecessary process since he was the main subject matter. Everyone else, even his own parents, were kept strictly in the realm of pseudonyms and nicknames. He normally wouldn’t dream of doing all this until the final draft, but in this case he didn’t want to bother polishing something he’d have to omit in the long run.

His doorbell rang and he looked at the clock. Nine at night was a little late for Mormons, and his few Australian friends knew far better than to drop in unannounced.

He opened the front door to find Amy standing on his doorstep. He blinked to make sure he hadn’t conjured her out of his imagination. His imagination surely couldn’t do the vision in front of him justice.

She was stunning in a calf-length, figure-hugging red dress with a neckline that showed enough cleavage to set his imagination alight and a pair of black boots that Ben had never seen before but definitely wanted to see again, often. He finally raised his eyes to her face and took in perfectly coiffed hair, blood-red lips, cold blue eyes and white, white skin. Too white. Something was seriously wrong.

‘This is for you. It’s the T-shirt you left at my house.’ Her voice was all wrong, too. It was as flat and cold as her expression. She thrust the plastic bag she was holding towards him and he took it automatically, noting that her hands were trembling.

‘Is everything alright? I was just about to call you.’ He reached for her, intending on drawing her against him but she took a quick step backwards out of his reach.

Her killer lips curved in a humourless smile. ‘Too late for that, Ben. You should have picked up earlier when I tried to call you. I left you a message.’

Ben tried once more to reach for her, but her entire body stiffened, her eyes narrowed and he dropped his hand, immensely confused and beginning to genuinely worry. He knew she was upset over what had happened at her house but he hadn’t expected anything like this.

‘Come inside.’

She shook her head. ‘No, I have to go. I just wanted to tell you . . .’ She drew a deep breath and clasped her hands together so tightly in front of her that her knuckles turned white. ‘I’ve read what you wrote about me in the
Enquirer
. I don’t understand why you would do something so cruel, but I’m not going to let you do it again. I don’t want to see you any more, Ben. It’s over.’

He watched the beginnings of tears form in her eyes and his stomach flipped, his skin dampening with sweat. She couldn’t mean it.
Didn’t
mean it. She was just upset. All he had to do was get her inside and they could talk.

‘Amy. Sweetheart—’ He stepped towards her just as her cool façade shattered.

Her eyes flashed pure, unadulterated fury and her hands curled into tight fists at her side as she erupted, a vengeful porcelain doll wading into battle. ‘You
bastard
! How
dare
you call me sweetheart after what you did? Scum, Ben. That’s what you are. You used me and laughed at me behind my back–
publicly
– and then you have the nerve to call me sweetheart like you care? Fuck you,’ she spat.

Ben flinched at how ugly the words sounded. He opened his mouth to talk but she held up a shaking finger.

‘I let you into my life. I trusted you. I cared for you and you . . . you
screwed
me. Quite literally, didn’t you?’ Her mouth twisted into a horrible semblance of a smile. ‘I bet you enjoyed writing that week. “Let’s make fun of the silly bitch who thinks too much to come.” Did you laugh, Ben? Did you?’ Tears filled her eyes again before she impatiently swiped them away. ‘How long was this going to go on? Until you ran out of things to make fun of every week? Oh, just wait. It’s pretty endless with me, from my shitty house and novelty businesses to my pathetic clothes and my hilarious–what did you call it?
–bloody-minded inability to relax and enjoy the moment
. You made it sound like a mystery. Well, I’ll tell you what it was all about. I didn’t trust you enough to let myself go. I should have stuck to that but instead . . . instead I thought you cared. Stupid me . . .’ She heaved a shaky breath, her face crumpling. ‘Stupid. Stupid me.’

‘Amy. Come inside,’ Ben commanded, panic rising in his chest.

‘No.’

‘Come on. You’re upset and overwrought right now. Come inside and we’ll talk about this rationally.’ He immediately regretted the words. The condescending tone was all wrong. He regretted them a sight more when Amy’s fist came out of nowhere, sucker-punching him in the solar plexus, leaving him doubled over and gasping on his own doorstep.

‘
That’s
being overly dramatic, you bastard. You told me to tell you if there’s ever anything wrong–that I shouldn’t care about your feelings. Well, I’m doing it now. This is the second time this week I’ve had to tell a man in my life that I never want to see him again. The first time was easy, so easy compared to this, because I didn’t care about him. You . . . you’ve just torn me to shreds and all you can say is that I’m
overwrought
?’ She took another step towards him, eyes blazing, and Ben had the good sense to step backwards. ‘I felt so guilty about your car and blamed myself when the whole time you were using me like some kinda comic prop. I hate that you did this to me. I loved you and you ruined it.’ Before Ben could say anything more, potentially ramming his foot further into his mouth, she spun on her heel and ran to her car.

Stunned, hand over his bruised abdominals, his chest feeling like it was about to explode, Ben braced himself against the door frame and watched her go.

Chapter 17

‘Amy?’ Stephen answered the door to his and Jo’s apartment, his sun-bleached hair messy, blue eyes open wide. Given the late hour, his surprise was understandable.

Amy managed a tremulous smile. ‘Hey, sweetie. Um. Is Jo here?’ Her breath hitched at the words and she fisted her hands at her side, digging her nails into her palms.

Stephen stepped back out of the way. ‘Yeah, yeah. Come in.’

‘Thanks.’ Amy walked inside, looking around blindly at Jo’s simply furnished apartment with its cream couches, large-screen TV and densely packed book cases off to the far wall.

‘You want a drink or something? Jo’s just in the shower.’ Stephen’s bare feet padded on the floor as he headed for the kitchen.

‘No,’ Amy managed. She could hear the shower running in the hallway bathroom. All she had to do was hold it together for a few more minutes until Jo—

Stephen paused, turning back to study her. ‘Everything alright?’

Amy curtly nodded her head.

‘You lyin’?’ Stephen asked, bending at the knees to better see Amy’s expression.

She bit her lip. ‘Maybe.’ She felt herself losing it and bit her lip harder but it didn’t work. The first sob started and then it was all downhill from there.

‘Oh hey, uh,
Jo
!’ Stephen yelled as he wrapped his arms awkwardly around Amy, overriding her protests.

‘WHAT?’

‘I need you here.
Now
,’ Stephen bellowed back, all the while roughly patting Amy’s back and possibly breaking some ribs in his effort to offer some form of comfort.

‘Stephen, I’m fine,’ Amy managed to say in a waterlogged voice just as the bathroom door opened, the smell of hot, damp air and shampoo filling the room as Jo stepped out.

‘What’s so bloody urgent? Ames? What are you doing here? Stephen, what’s going on? What’s wrong?’

‘I dunno. She just walked through the door and . . .’ Stephen shrugged helplessly.

Amy stepped away from Stephen, trying to collect herself. ‘I’m
fine
.’

‘You don’t look fine,’ Jo said, holding a large red towel around her, her soaked hair dripping down the sides of her face as she looked Amy up and down. ‘Don’t even try and tell me it’s nothing because there’s no way you’d be here at this time of night looking miserable if it was nothing.’ She turned to Stephen, who was still hovering by Amy’s side. ‘Can you put the kettle on?’

‘Definitely.’ The relief in his voice would have been comical if Amy weren’t so upset.

‘Talk to me,’ Jo ordered as Stephen disappeared into the kitchen.

Amy drew a deep shuddery breath. ‘Give me a minute.’

‘Yeah, alright.’ Jo raised a hand and ran a thumb under Amy’s left eye, then her right, collecting her running mascara. ‘I hate to break it to ya, but you’d make a crap emo.’

Amy managed a watery laugh. ‘
Damn
. And I always wanted to be one too. Sorry, I didn’t mean to barge in here like this.’ She gestured to her face with a flutter of her fingers.

‘Don’t be.’

‘Tea or coffee?’ Stephen asked from the doorway.

‘Tea, please.’ Amy looked around Jo’s shoulder to catch his worried expression. ‘Sorry, Stephen.’

‘No worries.’ His half-smile didn’t reach his eyes.

‘Amy?’ Jo asked again.

‘It’s Ben,’ Amy blurted.

‘Ben,’ Jo repeated, expression resigned.

‘He’s been writing about me. Did you know he was writing about me in a newspaper column? About everything we did together?’

Jo shook her head slowly. ‘No. The stuff I wanted to show you was an interview with his ex-girlfriend. I didn’t know he’d been writing about you. Where?’

‘The paper’s called the
London Enquirer
. Probably better I show you.’ Amy borrowed Stephen’s laptop and pulled up all five of Ben’s columns featuring her.

She hugged Boomba the cat, burying her face in his soft grey fur so she didn’t have to look at the screen. She’d read the words so many times by now that she’d memorised them.

The room was dead silent with the exception of Boomba’s purring and Stephen’s odd exclamation of outrage.

Amy looked at Jo. Her sister’s eyes were narrowed and her lips were thinned into a narrow line. ‘You finished?’

‘Yep.’ Jo snapped the laptop closed. ‘I—’ She began but Stephen put his hand firmly on her shoulder and she stopped. The two of them exchanged a series of pointed looks until Jo heaved a massive sigh. ‘I dunno, Ames. This looks bad. What are you gonna do about it?’ she asked eventually, the words sounding forced.

Amy stared at her, mind temporarily blank. She’d expected shouting, yelling, even threats of revenge. That Jo would respect her space enough just to let her share her problem without trying to fix it had been too much to hope for.

Jo must have noticed her shock. ‘I want to kill him for you, but I can’t. I promised to stay out of your love life and I’m trying.
Fuck
.’ She stood up and stalked around the living room once before coming to face Amy with her hands on her hips, her towel barely holding together. ‘Please tell me you’re going to kick this son of a bitch’s arse or I’m seriously going to be pissed.’

Amy gave her a small, humourless smile. ‘I punched him. Really hard.’

Jo snorted. ‘Was he still breathing afterwards?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Not hard enough then.’

‘Babe,’ Stephen rumbled.

‘Yeah. Alright.’ Jo darted a look at her fiancé and grimaced. ‘This really sucks Ames. I can’t even imagine what you’re feeling right now.’ She rolled her shoulders, tightened the towel and unclenched her jaw, forcing her words out. ‘How . . . can I —we —, be there for you?’

Amy felt a little lost until Stephen’s large warm hands settled on her shoulders, grounding her. She pulled herself together. ‘I could do with another hug and maybe, if it’s okay, staying here tonight. I don’t want to go home right now. I’m feeling pretty crap.’

Jo nodded. ‘What about your dog?’

‘I’ll go get him,’ Stephen volunteered.

‘Thanks. Stephen . . .’ Amy looked up into his kind blue eyes and felt herself tearing up again.

‘Not a problem.’ He ruffled her hair gently before disappearing down the hall to the bedroom.

Amy turned to Jo. ‘About that hug?’

‘
Ben? I, ah. It’s Amy. I’ve just learned you wrote some stuff about me . . .
’ Ben listened to Amy’s voicemail message for the fourth time, his gut twisting in knots as he cursed himself, Colin, his lawyer and everything else that had prevented him from taking her call earlier that evening when she still sounded as if she cared for him.

He tried calling her again. She wasn’t answering her phone and she definitely wasn’t home. He knew because he was standing on her poorly lit porch now. He stared at her locked door, trying to work out what to do. Her car was gone and there was no sight or sound of her dog. He waited around for five minutes until he realised how pathetic he was being, then drove past her salon, foolishly thinking she might be there even though it was now fast approaching midnight. The sight that greeted his eyes made him go cold.

Amy’s business been vandalised. Recently. He slammed on his brakes, impatiently switching on his hazard lights and getting out of his car, feeling sick with dread.

The façades of both barbershop and beauty salon were freshly painted but the pavement in front contained more than enough evidence in the form of some kind of black muck to tell him the damage had been significant.

The knowledge that something so horrible had happened to her and that she hadn’t felt she could call him tore him apart.