Irrepressible You (35 page)

‘No,’ Ben admitted. ‘But writing got me into the mess I’m in, so I thought it would be a start.’

‘Writing didn’t get you into this mess. Your lack of empathy, decency and brain cells got you into this mess.’

‘Sit
down
, Jo. We agreed to hear him out, so let him speak.’ Watanabe spoke quietly but his words acted on Amy’s sister like a stun gun. Snapping her mouth shut abruptly, she hauled out the chair next to Ben’s and sat down, long legs splayed apart, arms crossed over her chest.

‘Thanks.’ Ben felt the word grate on his very soul. He knew Watanabe and Jo were his last links to Amy, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel jealous about it.

‘Start talking,’ Jo snapped, but again Watanabe interrupted.

‘Coffee first.’ He waved down a passing waitress and the two of them ordered.

Ben had been nursing his espresso for the past half-hour and it was cold but he didn’t want another one. Instead, he played idly with the packet of cigarettes on the table. ‘How is she?’ he asked once they were alone again.

‘Crap, thanks to you.’

‘She’s been better,’ Watanabe said at the same time, shooting Jo a warning look which, amazingly, she seemed to heed.

‘Has she read it?’ Ben asked, valiantly managing not to squirm under Jo Blaine’s death glare.

‘Yeah. I told her about it.’

Watanabe heaved a sigh. ‘I think it worked a bit, but it wasn’t enough. She’s a private person. Trying to fix this in public wasn’t the smartest thing you could have done.’

Ben swore under his breath in frustration.

Watanabe tilted his head to the side. ‘Why’d you contact me?’

‘Because everything I’ve tried, with the exception of camping at her front door, hasn’t worked,’ Ben said tightly, his frustration palpable. ‘If it’s not already obvious, I want her back.’

‘Bullshit.’

‘Jo,’ Watanabe warned.

‘Seriously, Scott, this is crap.’

He studied Ben’s expression for a long while no doubt taking in his three-day stubble, pallor and red-rimmed eyes. ‘No, I don’t think it is. I was fully ready to kill him until I read what he wrote in the
Enquirer
.’

‘Yeah, but how do you know it wasn’t a lie?’

Ben began to defend himself but Watanabe spoke first. ‘Why would he bother?’

‘Exactly.’ Ben felt his shoulders relax a little. It seemed Watanabe was on his side. Although he had no idea why until the man’s next comment.

‘I’ve seen you live, Martindale.’

‘Oh?’ Ben raised a brow, keeping his expression impassive.

‘You’re funny. Or you were until you picked Amy to make fun of.’ An edge crept into his words and his mouth tensed around the edges. ‘Why’d you do it?’ he asked, breaking his eye lock with Ben to briefly thank the waitress who’d arrived with the coffees.

Ben waited until the waitress left to answer. ‘Believe it or not, it wasn’t intentional.’

‘What was it then, mate? Because whatever it was, you screwed up big time.’

‘She inspired me.’ Ben regretted the words when Jo snorted in disbelief. ‘My readers loved her. Ross, my editor at the
Enquirer
, wanted more and I gave him more. I never thought she’d read any of it, and if she did I thought she’d find it funny.’ He met their incredulous expressions, trying to inject as much sincerity into his tone as he could. ‘I realise that was a stupid assumption. I care for her a lot. I’ve tried to make it up to her, to explain, but she won’t see me, let alone talk to me.’

‘You’ll need to do more than that,’ Watanabe said.

‘I’m fully prepared to apologise in person. I just need to be given the chance.’ Ben levelled his gaze at the man across from him. ‘If you’re willing to help out on that front.’

‘You can’t be serious,’ Jo interjected, her tone incredulous.

‘Extremely so,’ Ben said simply, feeling his pride crumbling at his feet. ‘I’m in dire need of inspiration. I love your sister. I need help. The fact that I’m here asking you for it when I’d rather be digging my eyeballs out with a teaspoon says just how desperate I am.’

He waited, watching Watanabe’s entirely unreadable expression for a few seconds before lighting another cigarette from habit.

He managed to just get it to his lips when Jo snatched it out of his hand and ground it out. ‘Not helping your cause, mate. I’m pregnant.’

‘Apologies,’ Ben said curtly, pushing away from the table. ‘I’ll be right back.’ He walked outside, hoping to hell he wasn’t setting himself up for yet another roasting. Through the open café windows he could see Watanabe and Amy’s sister talking heatedly. Her expression was furious at first, then, as the minutes went by, she appeared to calm down and sit back in her chair as Watanabe leaned forward and spoke to her. Ben gave them nearly fifteen minutes before he rejoined them.

‘Well?’ he asked, looking between the two of them, trying to ignore the tension shooting shards of ice up and down his spine.

They looked at each other for a few seconds, communicating with a series of frowns and raised eyebrows until Watanabe sighed loudly.

‘Alright. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but tell us what you want to do and then we’ll decide if we can give you a hand.’

Realising he only had a small window of time before Amy’s sister untangled herself from whatever hold Watanabe had over her and launched herself across the table at him, Ben talked fast.

Chapter 18

Amy waved goodbye to her final customer for the day, placed her hands on the small of her back, stretched, then collapsed in a chair, pulling off her shoes to massage her exhausted feet.

Everything ached–her head possibly the worst of all. It was closing time on a Friday, her staff in the salon had already left and she was ready to drop. The last few weeks had been a continual, emotionally draining blur and right now she’d do anything to turn off the world even for a few seconds.

The shop bell jingled and she stifled a groan. All she wanted to do was get home, put on her pyjamas and snooze on the couch.

‘Amy?’

She looked up. Her breath caught as her heart tried to beat its way out of her chest.

Ben was standing in the doorway with one hand shoved into the back pocket of a pair of blue jeans, the other tightly gripping a large brown envelope. The sardonic smile he usually wore was absent; instead his ice-green eyes were shadowed with uncertainty, sucking her in.

‘Are you open still?’ he asked, his normally self-assured, clipped accent sounding tentative. ‘I desperately need a shave. I’ve got this incredible woman to impress and I don’t want her thinking I don’t care enough to look my best.’

‘We’re closed.’

‘Oh.’ Ben’s shoulders slumped a little. ‘Are you sure? Because I’ve really made a hash of things and I need to ask her to forgive me. I wrote some things that were unintentionally unflattering and have tried to apologise both in person and in writing but she simply won’t give me the chance.’

Amy felt her eyes prickle and looked back down at the foot that she was massaging, slipping her shoe back on.

‘I said we’re closed.’ She felt her heart breaking all over again.

‘I’m sorry, Amy.’

‘So am I.’ She kept her gaze on the floor.

‘Did you read my apology?’

She had read it at least twenty times. ‘Yes.’

‘I meant it. Every word. I’m sorry, Amy.’

‘Don’t,’ she said, her voice cracking.

‘And after trying everything I could think of to convince you that I really am certifiably crazy about you, I’ve decided that I’m going to give you a chance to kill me.’

‘What?’ Her eyes snapped to his face, taking in the dark shadows under his eyes.

‘A cut-throat shave.’ He walked further into the shop.

‘I’m closed,’ she repeated. ‘I don’t want to see you, Ben.’

‘I think you do. I think you’d relish the idea of cutting my throat. So come on.’ He sat down in the chair next to hers, placing the envelope he was holding on the ledge in front of the mirror.

‘I don’t want to see you.’ It hurt so much right now, there was no way she was going to touch him.

‘Well, I’m not going anywhere.’ He regarded himself in the mirror and then gave her a forced smile. ‘And you have to admit it would be pretty bad advertising for you if I walked out of here looking like this.’ He gestured to what had to be five days’ worth of scraggly, overgrown stubble. ‘Think of all the damage you could do without actually killing me.’

‘Why are you here? Surely you have better things to write about,’ Amy said, voice flat.

He turned his chair to face hers, his expression deathly serious. ‘It will never happen again. Somewhere over the past few years I’ve gotten terribly arrogant and egotistical. It never occurred to me that you’d be upset. I . . . I don’t do declarations or emotions that well. I’m not used to showing people I care. Pathetic really, for a grown man, and terribly clichéd.’ His mouth quirked in a completely unhumourous smile. ‘You inspired me so much. I wanted to write about you. I wanted to share you with others. You might not know it, but my stage persona is a total bastard who makes fun of other people. It’s something I’ve done my entire life. Believe it or not, I was a shy child. Humour,
my
kind of humour, worked. Until recently.’ He looked away. ‘Half the reason people come to see me is because they love to hate me. It never occurred to me how that might look to someone who doesn’t have that context.’

Amy abruptly pushed herself out of her chair and walked over to stare blindly out the window at the congested evening traffic.

‘Please, Amy.’

She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. ‘Just go, Ben. I can’t do this.’

He sat there behind her for almost five minutes, the feeling of complete dejection in the air palpable, before getting up and walking silently out the door.

Not wanting to watch his departing back, Amy turned back to tidy the barber shop and saw the envelope he’d been carrying lying on the ledge in front of his abandoned chair. She reached over and picked it up, intent on throwing it in the rubbish, but her sister’s unmistakable handwriting scrawled across the front stopped her.

Amy, read this and give him a chance. Both Scott and I think he really means it when he says he’s sorry. Trust yourself.

Amy’s brow wrinkled. Jo? What would Jo have to do with this? Leaving the thought unfinished, she up-ended the envelope and a heavy block of paper fell out.

She looked at the first page. It was a manuscript, entitled
Laughing at the Dark
. She turned the page. The words ‘For Amy, I love you with all my heart,’ were typed and centred, stark and unadorned. For a couple of seconds it felt as if someone had kicked her in the chest. A sob tore through her body. Then another one, her vision blurring.

Hope, so terribly small and fragile, sparked as she swiped at her eyes. He loved her. He hadn’t said it before but for some reason he’d said it here.

She knew, in that moment, that she couldn’t let him go without knowing if it was the truth.

The manuscript dropped from her fingers, pages fluttering as she turned and ran for the door. Ben was walking towards his car, his shoulders bent, truly looking like the devastated man he’d professed to be.

‘Ben!’

Ben turned. If he’d thought it had hurt to walk away just now, it was nothing compared to this. She was crying, tears creating muddy smudges in her make-up. She’d never looked more beautiful.

‘Yes?’ He heard the raspiness in his voice, bracing himself for another blow, watching as she rubbed her hands up and down the hot pink pencil skirt she was wearing. They were shaking.

‘Come back here. Please.’

He took a few seconds to process the words. ‘Why?’

She swiped at her eyes, only smudging her make-up all the more as she drew a shaky breath. ‘Did you mean it? The dedication?’

‘Yes, every word.’ He nodded slowly, trying desperately to understand what was going on. Her sister had said that he should put how he felt front and centre but it couldn’t be just that.

He watched her expression crumple. ‘Why tell me you love me now? Why not before? Why now?’

Ben cleared his throat, trying to search for words but none came. The sound of heavy traffic on the road behind him intruded but he didn’t give a damn who was watching. This was too important. ‘I honestly don’t know.’

She looked over his shoulder as a bus screeched to a halt at a nearby stop. ‘Come inside.’

He stared at her, trying to decipher what was happening. He wasn’t stupid enough to hope this was a second chance. ‘Why? Because, honestly—’ He shoved his hands in his pockets, taking the time to force his damn brain to come up with the right words. It had never failed him before but now, nothing was forthcoming but pure honesty. ‘I don’t want to hurt you any more than I already have and—’

‘Just shut up and come inside, Ben. I really don’t want this to be any more public than you’ve already made it.’

She walked back inside the shop, leaving the door open. He stepped through it, letting it close with a loud click. The bell above it tinkled in the quiet.

He glanced at his manuscript scattered on the floor, disregarding it. ‘What do you need from me?’

She leaned against the arm of one of the barber’s chairs, wrapping her arms around her waist. ‘Why didn’t you say this to me earlier? Why did you have to write that horrible thing in the newspaper instead?’

If Ben had felt small before, it was nothing compared to now. ‘It was the only thing I could think to do. You wouldn’t talk to me. You wouldn’t see me. I was desperate.’

She turned her head, closing her eyes tightly. ‘Do you love me?’

‘You read the dedication in my manuscript, didn’t you?’

‘Do you love me? I need to hear you say it out loud.’

This shouldn’t have been so difficult. He’d already admitted his feelings to her sister, to Alex, to Ross, and he’d typed them on one of the sheets of the manuscript at their feet but that had been different. For some reason, saying the words out loud right now to a woman who held his future in the palm of her hand was too much. He felt more open and exposed than he had since he was a young boy, before he’d learned to cover up his true feelings with wit. He had no wit now, no pithy comment to offer.