Sugar Dust (9 page)

Heaving, he dashed for the kitchen, hung his head over the sink, and let his stomach go, eyes closed to avoid splatter. Four bottles of lager and most of the crisps hit the bottom of the sink. He waited until the last tremors past then turned on the tap, swirling the chunks down the plug hole. Stubborn lumps clung to the sides. Rather than fighting with it, Dan trudged back to the living room and to his cell phone. He pressed redial. “Karen?” he whispered. “Please call me. Please.”

That done, he called Pete. His friend answered on the third ring. “I’m not coming back over there.”

“You don’t need to.”

“You sure? You’ve not handcuffed her to the radiator or swung her from the light fixture?”

Despite himself, Dan laughed. “I use rope for that. No need for keys.”

Pete grunted. “You’re not kidding are you?”

“Nope.”

“What do you want, mate?”

“I need help—”

“Yeah?”

“With Karen. I’m sitting here watching
Paid in Manhattan
and I can’t even—”

“Wait, just stop. Please tell me you haven’t called me in the middle of a wank. I’m not part of your weird, kinky shit.”

Dan looked away from the pile of dirty tissues. “No. I mean I was, but I’m finished now.”

“Jesus...”

“Will you listen to me, for a second, please? I need your help.”

“Wanking?”

“No. Drag your head out of the gutter. It’s not all about sex.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“This was stupid. I shouldn’t have called you.” He took the phone away from his ear.

“No, wait, wait. I’m sorry. You surprised me, that’s all. Hello? Dan?”

“What?”

“I’m here. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Dan sighed. “My girlfriend hates me. My mum hates my girlfriend.”

“I’m up to speed on all that.”

“I can’t get through to Karen.”

“She’s not with you?”

He glanced again at the empty space on the sofa. “She went home.”

“That’s rough. Sorry.”

“No, hang on, we’ve not split up.” Even as he spoke the words, a knot formed in his stomach. His knees quivered.

Had they? Until that moment he hadn’t considered the possibility.

“Why would you assume that?” he whispered.

“You said she went home.”

“She doesn’t live here.”

Pete gave a non-committal grunt. “She may as well. She’s always there from what I can tell.”

“We haven’t split up.”

“You sure about that?”

Dan bit his lip. “I’ve left her about six messages. And texts. She won’t answer the phone. What does that mean?”

“The hell if I know.”

“Help me out here.” Desperation gave his voice a trembling quality. “I have to do something.”

“Like what? As you kindly reminded me earlier, I’ve not got my rocks off for months. I’m the wrong person to hit for advice.”

“You must have some ideas.”

“Take her somewhere nice and show her you care.” He put sarcastic emphasis on the words. “All that romantic crap.”

“Like flowers? Chocolates?”

Pete snickered. “Buy her chocolate and she’ll eat you alive. Come on, think about it. You and Karen have something. Make it personal.”

“Personal?” He frowned at the empty room.

“Something important to the two of you, not some generic store-bought shit.”

Dan slumped onto the sofa and stared at the ceiling. He saw the small holes in the plaster from failed attempts to install suspension hooks. “Well...”

“What does she like?”

“I don’t know. Test tubes?”

“What the hell?”

“She did a chemistry degree.”

“Fuck me, you suck. Okay, what about those books she was reading last year? The fantasy ones on TV now? Or that comedian she likes? Try something to do with them.”

“Comedian?”

“The tall one with the long hair.”

He shrugged. Seconds later, when he realized the gesture was pointless, Dan spoke aloud. “No idea.” He sat up. Though the strain of recently vomiting left an ache in his throat, his thoughts were the clearest they’d been in hours. “But how do you know all this stuff about Karen?”

“I dunno,” Pete cleared his throat.

“Even her folks don’t know her that well. She told me her dad bought her a gold watch for Christmas last year.”

“She hasn’t worn gold since she was a teenager.”

“Exactly.” Dan sat very still. He listened to the low breathing on the other end of the phone and the low murmurs from
Paid in Manhattan
still playing in the background. He turned it off. “So, what else you got?”

“She’s
your
girlfriend, mate.” Pete’s tone flattened. “Your
slave
or whatever it is.”

“Yes, but—”

“Then
you
do the fucking legwork.”

“Wow, Pete.” Stunned, he raised his hand as if to ward off the fire he heard raging in his friend’s voice. “Okay. Fine. I’ll sort it. Thanks, I guess.”

“Whatever.” He hung up.

Dan stared at the phone.
What the fuck was that about?

Undeniably sober now, he set the phone on the coffee table well out of reach. Though part of him longed to analyze Pete’s peculiar mood swing, the rest of him yearned to deal with the more pressing problem of his love life. His grumpy, sex-starved friend would have to wait.

He retrieved his laptop from beneath the sofa. Just touching it reminded him of the last time he used it, and the creamy trails of Karen’s hard work sinking into the gaps beneath the casing. Several of the keys stuck as he logged on.
Personal,
he thought, signing into his usual forum,
I can do personal.

Chapter Nine

Karen lifted her head. Her pillow peeled away from her cheek with a dull, tearing sound and stood up in a stiff peak. Drool and sticky patches of another body fluid matted the white cotton. She groaned and clamped her hands over her ears to cut out the dawn chorus.

Two ice cream tubs lay beside the empty bottle of rum. A small pool of melted mint-chocolate chip and an open pack of AA batteries reminded Karen of the previous night.

Rolling out of bed, she pushed the door open and peered into the dark hallway. If Cindy’s closed door told an obvious story, then the two sets of snores pouring through it gave the epilogue.

She shook her head. The hallway faded in and out of focus, and her stomach gave a lurch strong enough to assure her that sudden movements were a bad idea. In the kitchen she slammed bread into the toaster and filled the kettle while trying not to think. Her pounding head made that easier than she might have liked. Coffee didn’t help. Toast did, thickly smeared with honey to hide the smell and taste of carbon. Chewing slowly, Karen retrieved her phone from the sofa where she’d thrown it hours earlier.

Twenty-six missed calls. Twelve voice mails. Six text messages. Karen read them one by one and, with each message, felt her stomach clench. “Oh, Dan.” Her lower lip wobbled. She listened to the voice mail messages and laughed while tears streamed down her cheeks.

“You’re such a stupid drunk,” she whispered. Her thumb hovered over Compose Message, but before she could begin, she heard footsteps approach from the hallway. She spun around, prepared to give Cindy a piece of her mind. She stopped dead. “Sam?”

“Yeah.” Short, with miraculously neat hair, Sam sidled into the kitchen. She wore a pair of Cindy’s pajamas, stretched taunt over her curvy hips and chest. She kicked a chubby leg over one of the stools at the breakfast bar and sat down. “What?”

“You spent the night here?”

“Yep.”

“With Cindy?”

“I hope so.”

Karen widened her eyes. “I thought you dumped her?”

Sam shrugged and pointed to the toast. Karen pushed the plate over and watched the other woman crunch through several mouthfuls.

“Ugh, what’s wrong with you two? Cindy has her toast burnt to all hell too.”

“It’s a shitty toaster. Talk to me, Sam. I thought you two were done.”

“We were. Then I realized I really do love her.”

She nodded, sharply. “But when did you get here?”

“I brought her home at about 4 a.m.”

“Don’t you work Thursdays?”

“Yep.”

When the implications of that monosyllabic answer sank in, Karen swore and put her head in her hands.

“Good. I’m glad you get it.” Sam stopped munching the toast long enough to glare. “Why the hell didn’t you go with her? She was higher than a kite.”

“What did she do?”

“Kicked some guy in the nads for hitting on her. Then robbed another guy when he tried to buy her a drink.”

She winced. “Is she in trouble?”

“No, but only because I stepped in. Then again, that first guy was a prick. Not that I condone assault—of course—but good for her.”

They shared a smile.

“Anyway, some woman found her trying to flag down a cab by waving her bra at passing cars. I took over and brought her back here. It was the end of my shift anyway. Thankfully.”

“I’m so sorry. I should have gone with her. I know that. I just couldn’t face it.”

“It’s that bad with Dan?”

Karen looked up from her toast. Heat flooded her cheeks. “I—”

“She told me.” Sam’s expression softened. She gave a tiny smile full of pity.

“Right.” Karen cleared her throat. “Dan and I need to talk, yes, but it’s no excuse. I should have been there for Cindy.”

“Don’t worry about it. She’s fine. Woke right up when I tried to strip her down for bed. She’s a biter now. Apparently.” Sam lifted her pajama top, showing off a large bruise forming on the side of her left breast.

Thinking of her own bruised neck, Karen hid a smile behind her hand. “So you’re okay now? You and Cindy?”

Sam nodded.

“What about her parents?”

“Fuck them.” The answer came not from Sam, but Cindy herself who appeared in the doorway wearing nothing but faint smears of body glitter and a wide smile. “I’m happy. So is Sam. Everyone else can fuck right off.”

Karen beamed.

“You coming back to bed, or what?”

For several confusing seconds, Karen thought the question was directed at her. Then she saw Sam stand, stretch and amble back toward the bedroom, dodging a poorly aimed slap at her backside as she went. “Don’t keep me waiting,” she said.

Alone with her friend, Karen chuckled. “You’re something else.”

Cindy gave an exaggerated flick of her ice-white hair. “I do my best.”

“I’m so sorry, Cindy.”

“What for?”

“For leaving you alone. I should have gone with you. That was shitty of me.”

“Yep. Bitch.”

She looked up, ready to snap back with a matching insult. The words died on her tongue. “I deserved that.”

“Yes, but I get it. Your relationship is hard, too.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

Cindy spread her hands. “No assault charges. Minimal hangover. Fucking sexy copper waiting in my bedroom. Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good.”

“You will be too, Kaz.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“Then take your own advice. Call Dan. Talk to him.”

Karen thought back to all those missed calls and voice mails. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You have to. Suck it up. Be honest and tell him how you feel.”

“I have.”

“Not about his mum, about how
you feel
. It’s not the same. He already knows you don’t like her. But have you told him that what she says makes you feel insecure?”

“I’m not insecure.”

“Bullshit. We’ve been friends too long; don’t lie to me as well as yourself. You feel insecure. You may like playing with other girls occasionally but you hate this Slave Library. You’re worried he’s doing it because he also thinks you’re not good enough. Worse still, you don’t know where the relationship is going. Is it just D/s fun to him or is there more?
You
want more.”

No matter how hard she tried, Karen couldn’t think of a decent response. She pressed her lips together. “I love him so much.” She lost the battle to keep her lower lip from wobbling. “I know it’s not been that long, not like you and Sam, but I do. I can see us together years from now. He’s perfect.”

Tears gathered in her eyes. She blinked them away with the palms of her hands. Despite the implications of the word “perfect” Karen couldn’t think of a better one. Of all her past relationships, Dan was the only one who managed to blend kink with vanilla in a way that worked. He understood her need to submit came not from a troubled or abused past, but from a need to relax. To trade off the control she demanded in every other aspect of her life in exchange for pleasure shared.

Love. Such a loaded word, but it made sense here. Nothing else fit the pounding of her heart each time he touched her or the gentle warmth in her belly when he smiled. Or even the giddy flush of pride that suffused her heart every time he introduced her as “my girlfriend.”

Sam stepped deeper into the room and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I know, honey.”

“He can’t even say it. He’s never told me he loves me. I’m ‘important’ to him. He ‘loves our time together’.” The words tasted as bitter as they sounded, heavy with disappointment and frustration.

“He’s a man. They suck at the best of times, but he seems worse.”

“He’s just cautious.”

“No, he’s hurting you. And if he keeps it up, I’ll break his legs. But talk to him first, okay? Sam can’t keep blagging me out of trouble.”

Karen laughed through her tears. Throughout all the drama in her life Karen knew she could depend on Cindy to be vulgar, coarse, and most of all, honest.

“Sure,” she whispered. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Cindy turned toward her room. “Now get out of my house.”

“It’s my house too.”

“I’m using it with my dirty playmate. So get out, unless you’re joining us.”

Karen laughed. “Put some clothes on, you slut.”

“Why? She’ll just tear them off me again.” Cindy walked away, putting a little sway into her hips as she went.

***

At Dan’s front door, Karen took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and knocked.

A few seconds later, the door opened.

“Kaz. Thank God, you—why didn’t you use your key?”

“I need to talk to you.”