Six Flavours of Sin (16 page)

Chapter 27

Mr Melt

BANG BANG BANG BANG! THUMP!

I jump, jolted rudely from my miserable reverie as my front door threatens to leap out of the frame. Night has fallen and I creep with anxiety to the door, and sneak a swift glance through the peep hole.
Damn
. I forgot to buy a bulb and it's so dark out there it could be anyone.

Taking a deep breath, I brace myself to face the Mob. Some huge, shaved, bald man, with a gun
and a silencer, probably already lined up to the spy hole to shoot me clean in the eye, through the brain, dead.

I unlock the door, ready for the release of emotional torture called life. I take a last deep breath, tears left unshed, causing my eyes to
sparkle, and open the door.

"Thank God!"

Sigh.

"Hi, Neville."

He still seems frantic. Waiting with obvious impatience for me to unlock the security gate, which I do. He bolts through it, locks it swiftly, and slams the door behind him.

I stare at him in the enveloping anticlimax of silence.

He runs a hand down my arm. "I was so worried. I couldn't drive here fast enough after work."

Death is overrated. Who cares if I die? And why does this male always have to
touch
me.

"Neville, stop worrying about me. I'm fine. Gary's probably just stuffing with my mind. He knew one of you would tell me. He's probably getting a diabolical kick out of this."

I am so good at pretending to be in control and fine.

Neville notices my food, cold, still in a bag on the floor next to the couch. He sees the flowers, follows the shoes, my bag; he scowls.

"I'm not stupid. I can see you're upset."

He flicks the lounge light on, blinding me momentarily, and before I can sidestep him, he's fucking hugging me again.

SHOVE.

"Would you like some coffee?" I query
casually, as I use the momentum to walk into the kitchen.

"No. Stefanie, tell me you're okay."

Repulsive shiver as he slides his hand down my spine. He always stands too bloody close to me. I feel suffocated and step back, away, towards the fridge.

"I'm fine. I just had a crap day, that's all."

"What happened? Did he phone you?"

Yes, he did. Mr Perfect did phone me. Secretive smug grin. But I know he's referring to Fuhquim.

"No. Why would he?"

I stare at Neville, wondering just how bright he is anyway. "Neville, you don't seriously think Gary's going to phone me and say, ‘Hey ex, I hate you. You're going to die for dating’?”

Those chipmunk cheeks expand as he realises how stupid that sounds. He chuckles and wraps an arm around me, "Yeah, I suppose you're right."

Stop
touching
me.

I move away and start boiling the kettle. Moving as much as possible so he can't get a hold on me. He's like a leech. If he could he'd tapeworm me and be a permanent parasite.

"I think I will have coffee. So, how are you?"

Then he smiles the predator smile and suggestively mumbles, "Hmmmm?" as he ‘affectionately’ runs his hand down my arm again, lingering the hand in my waist.

An uncontrollable spasm of repugnance runs through me. His eyes alight, misreading it for eager anticipation. He steps closer, breathing all over me as he looks down at me suggestively.

I can't do this. This is
not
happening.

I step away, "Please stop touching me."

Scowl, as he folds his arms.

Inwardly, I sigh and roll my eyes. Why do I always attract the fuckheads? Do I seem desperate? I loathe being alone with guys who give me the creeps. Of all of them, Neville is the one who chooses to defy Fuhquim and stay friends with me. Just my luck.

"I appreciate the concern Neville, but you don't have to keep reassuring yourself that I'm alive. As you can see, I am fine!"

I storm around making coffee, wishing he'd
just
go
.

Ding Dong

He moves before I can, and answers my door, looking at me as he opens it, "You should replace this light bulb out here."

Like I don't
know
that? Thanks for implying I'm an idiot and possibly retarded.

Oooh! A dreamy voice floats into the kitchen, "Er. Hi! Is Stefanie home?"

I get the daggers glare from Neville as he picks the gate key up to let Professor Kiss in. YAY. My hero! Rescuing me from being alone with Mr Creepy.

Neville does the alpha male thing, blocking Marty's entrance into my modest home, extending a hand in passive aggression, assuming the ‘I'd like to disembowel you’ stance, "I'm Neville. You are?"

Marty smiles, looking down on shorter Neville; I'm watching it all from the kitchen, my innards leaping with glee like trampoline girls, "Marty."

He says nothing else, but shakes Neville's hand, then catches my eye. I can see that he's finding this funny and I beam back at him, which causes Neville's cheeks to infuse with a dark angry red.

Neville pushes for information, "I'm an old friend of Stef's."

Marty doesn't indulge him. "Nice to meet you." He strides past Neville into the kitchen, and swoops me off the floor, my legs dangling in a bear hug. I whisper quickly into his ear, "Please don't leave me alone."

He lets my feet touch the ground, leans a hand onto the kitchen counter, and mentions casually, "Why aren't you ready yet? We're going to be late."

My blood cells run amok in silent rioting as I play along. "What time is it? I forgot. I won't be two secs. I'm just going to put jeans on."

And I flee, hiding my smile, into my bedroom where I close the door and flip on the light switch. After closing the curtains, I strip off my work clothes and hastily pull on charcoal skinny jeans and a black and white shirt.

I'm thrilled that I'm wearing phenomenally sexy black undies, spritz on my perfume (I have expensive taste, but don't tell anyone or they might run for the hills screaming),
and slide my feet into flat black pumps.

I pull out my hair clip and let tendrils of long waves cascade around me, I check my reflection and dash back out before bloodshed ruins my carpet.

I smile at Marty and sidle up to him, slipping my hand into his, "Ready." Then I smile at Neville. "Thanks for stopping by to check on me."

I want to laugh as Marty takes control of the awkward moment, leading me by the hand as he picks up my keys on his way out the door.

He stands and waits at the gate, staring pointedly at Neville, "We're in a bit of a hurry."

Neville is obviously reluctant, but walks out, stops and stares down at me. I can't read the expression he's giving me. He takes my free hand, holding it, "I worry about you."

He shoots a quick glance at Marty who is now pointedly clanging the gate shut and locking it, but watching him all the same.

"Have a good evening." And he's gone.

But I do notice that he's waiting for proof that we're leaving. I so badly want to burst out laughing.

T
here's a laugh-fest just screaming around in wild dorm-party mode in my chest, but with immaculate composure and restraint, I walk sedately with Marty to his car, let him open the door for me, pause and loooong kiss, hmmmm, such a fantasy-fest!

And I settle into the car which has, thank God, tinted windows, so the spy can't see what we're doing in here at night.

Marty stares, contemplative, out of the window at Neville's car after he settles into the driver's seat.

He turns and smiles that ’Can your heart feel this?’ smile at me, running an elegant hand up my thigh. Hmm, he smells nice. I see he shaved just for the occasion too.

"My place?"

I smile back, "Sure, if you're up to it. Sorry but ..."

"I don't need an explanation."

The ignition turns and his car purrs with affection back at him. He looks at me as he puts it into first gear,
gifting me with a wink, before deliberately accelerating too close past Neville's waiting car, down into the darkness of the street, "Just have to get two things on our way."

"What do you need?"

Mr Melt smiles at me again, wickedly, "Ice-cream and smokes."

He has a knee repelling smile.

One smile from him, with the twinkle of mischief from his eyes, just makes female knees repel each other.

Hmmm.

I wish I had a smile with that much power.

Cue song: SBI 'Seeing Stars'.

Chapter 28

Adios

I couldn't take it. After two weeks of intense observation of every single person walking towards me, driving past me, parking in my road, I was close to cracking. I couldn't take the tension any longer and decided to get crazy.

I waited until the office was almost deserted at lunch time when I picked up the phone and dialed Fuhquim.

"Hello."

"If you want me dead, just do it."

Strangled with mental anguish, my throat closes and I cringe at how pathetic I sound.

"What the fuck are you on about woman?"

"Gary, someone told me you'd taken out a hit on me. I can't handle it. Just tell me where to be and I'll be there."

He starts laughing in my ear. "I wouldn't waste the money on you."

I choke, in denial, angry at what I'm hearing.

"Woman, I derive far too much pleasure waiting for you to fuck up your life. You can't handle life on your own. Don't call me again."

Click.

The sheer relief overwhelms me. I fumble for my cigarettes and take an accelerated Charlie Chaplin walk straight outside. I hide on the steps, smoking, wanting to cry with desperate relief that my life has been hell for two weeks. For nothing.

Thank the stars I have a reason to get rid of Neville dogging me closer than my own flipping shadow. Five tears avalanche down my face before I rein in my emotions. I still have half a day of work to go before I can indulge in some relief wallowing. I think going out, getting shamefully drunk, and not wearing a bra doing it, is in order.

Selene is my number one groupie. Followed by James. We are closer than fingers. And tonight, my people are taking me out. I'm going to be irresponsible and I'm going to love it.

The thing is, Mr Melt is a photographer, often away on assignments. Most weeks I am free, and spend my weekends with him. We squeeze in as much time together as we can. He's not the jealous, possessive type. I guess my adoration and Professor Kiss worship is transparent.

That, and the fact that he often surprises me with his spies, Ted and Lindsay. Lindsay finally got over whatever issue it was. All it took was her seductive smile to break the ice. We laughed at each other, without either of us having to explain, or apologise, for whatever it was we'd done.

(See? Men think it's them only that have these issues with women. I still don't know what I've done. But yes, I'd be willing to apologise to kiss and make up.) We're back to normal, and I'm relieved. It has been two weeks of tension that could support a tightrope walker.

That night, I get very,
very
,
very
tipsy. But I feel safe with James. And Selene is almost as bad as Michelle when it comes to being the evil eye that keeps the predators away. Finally my life is back to perfect. Back on track, the roller coaster magnets are on full throttle. Perfect.

Perfect, for two whole months. I've found Nirvana and it's incarnated as Mr Melt. But then Mr Melt drops me on a Saturday. In a space as tight as a book and its binding, we are perfect.

We have a routine, I'm so in love I am already thinking marriage, when he picks me up on a Saturday morning, takes me home, covers my skin in kisses and nibbles, takes me for a scenic tour of the outer galaxy, lays back down next to me and tells me, "I'm leaving the country the day after tomorrow."

An invisible force has my throat and I’m struggling for breath. Someone is going to make haggis with my innards and they've started gutting me without my permission, and without a body I can see. I can feel the pain ripping through me. I can't breathe. I've suddenly become asthmatic.

Why?

Marty sits up and looks down into my face, propped on his elbow. He reads my eyes like an iridologist and starts kissing me. Deeply. As if somehow this can give me air. My flame is snuffing out, my heart just stopped, no kiss in the world can restart what has just been stolen from me. He's trying to love my hurt away and all I can think is, Why?
Why
?
Why
no warning? Why surprise me with it two days before he leaves? I'm hoping I am misunderstanding him and gasp.

"For how long?"

Please let it be an assignment.
Please!
I've done nothing wrong. I've given him all the freedom he needs. I've never demanded anything from him. How can he not feel what I'm feeling? He seeks me out. He's so tender and warm with me.

I've seen him with other people and his eyes are so different when he surveys the world. But when they catch my gaze, they soften, shooting celestial sparkles at me. You can't fake that. What did I do to chase him away?

"Years. Permanently probably."

He hasn't packed. His house still looks the same. I'm wondering if he's lying.

"What about your stuff?"

"I'm packing it all tomorrow. The movers will be here on Monday morning to collect everything."

"Where are you going?"

"Spain."

"Why?"

"I got a permanent job there and I have family
there."

I stare up into his beautiful eyes, feeling robbed. I should be savouring every second but I can't, because I'm feeling so bereft. The grieving has already started. I don't get out of that bed. I stay in it, keeping him with me, trying to squeeze in a lifetime supply of Marty before he takes me home.

When he leaves my home, we kiss. It's the longest, most heartbreaking kiss I have ever endured. I love him. I keep the tenuous hold on my tears until he leaves me. The final good-bye; the last fingertip touch.

I wait for him to drive away and begin dissolving like ice-cream in a thunderstorm. I cried for the rest of the weekend. It was the last time Lindsay, Ted or I ever heard from Marty.

I never ever said, ‘I love you’ to him. But I did. He was, and always will be, Mr Perfect.

Cue song: SBI : ‘Like Rain ... I miss you like rain ...’

… Pause …

…
Play ...

There is nothing here for me now. Nothing. I can no longer handle living close to the devil's spawn, Fuhquim. I sell everything I own, after
giving in my notice at work. It's time for this little sparrow to fly.

I've put my clothes into storage, and
have a job lined up in the big wide U.S. of A. as an au-pair. I love my friends but without love, without him, something went with him when he left. An essential part of me disappeared: the part that knew how to derive pleasure and joy from life. I can't find it anywhere. And I've decided to go looking for it. I'm taking a leap. I have nothing to lose.

The build up at work is traumatic. The girls burst into tears walking past my desk. Selene has an address book she's made everyone write in for me to stay in touch. It's an affectionate and aorta-tugging farewell.

Our usual crowd go out for ladies’ night. But the magic is missing. The gloom of my impending disappearance mars the festivities.

Instead, we all just end up recklessly drunk together, crying, telling each other how much we love and will miss each other.

Only one more day of work and my days here are done. The following day I'm due to go to the embassy to fetch my visa, flight out is the following day.

It's been three long months, without a word from Marty. I've stopped hoping. He was the longest one night stand I've ever had. I don't regret it. For those months I was truly and vibrantly alive. More than I have ever been, or will be. Oh, what the heck, I'm not trying to get you to understand. You won't. Just take my word for it.

I have the hangover from Hades and I'm not the only one. The office is subdued. My shoulders slump further as my phone rings.

"Stefanie speaking, how may I help you?"

"I want to meet for coffee. I need to see you one last time before you go."

I'm going to hurl.

"Why?"

"Please?"

Long pause as I think about why the hell I should.

Another soft, plaintive, "
Please
Stef?"

Closure? Is this finally closure?

"When? Where?"

"My place. After work." I swallow with difficulty.

I hate him. I only hate him because I will always love him and he makes me nervous as a flat-lining heartbeat.

"Okay."

Whispered, "Thank you."

Click.

My heart has somehow split into two halves. One half in each ankle. It's an odd and painful sensation. It also means that my brain can't function. I feel blindfolded and as if I'm now running only on instinct and I need a smoke.

I stand up, "Smoke break."

My eyes don't want to focus. My adrenalin is surging and my heartbeat is racing to catch up with the speed of light.

"Are you okay?"

I mumble back to Selene, "No."

"I'll cover for you."

I nod my thanks, snatch my smokes out of my drawer and head outside. Once out there I lean heavily against the stairwell wall.

Just breathe …