Thrive (12 page)

“Think about it. You have to understand this. Do you think he’d allow her to chase after him, begging to be tortured?

He shook his head. “No.”

I continued to pace, my toes numb from their exposure to the cold, wet grass.

“Exactly. This is where the word association comes in.”

“How?”

“Phillip isn’t just erasing evidence on paper. He’s surrounded himself with an army. Tiffany is as much herself as he’ll allow – the woman he created for the outside world. If he hadn’t created that side of her? She wouldn’t do a very good job of protecting him.”

“So he waits until someone gets too close. The question was a trigger to put her walls up…to make her shut down so she couldn’t expose him.”

“Right,” I said, relieved he was finally following me. “It’s a form of cognitive behavioural therapy - CBT. It’s a form of psychotherapy that alters the way you think or behave. When thoughts or emotions begin to stray, word association takes people to their happy place. Phillip has used this to turn Tiffany into a soldier with only one purpose. To protect him, to keep him safe.”

Curtis shot to his feet. He turned away from me and began to stride towards the gate. He was shaking, his fists clenched by his sides. I panicked. I knew where he was going and I knew what he was going to do.

“Curtis!”

I left the path of grass that had been my tunnel of clarity and chased after him.

“Curtis, stop!”

“I have to find her. I have to save Lois.”

“Just wait. Let me show you.”

He stopped and turned to face me. We were still meters apart, an emotional and physical gulf separating us. I felt every emotion radiating from him, as if he had centred it and projected it onto me. It tore me apart, ripped me open until I couldn’t breathe.

“Show me what?”

“You love her, don’t you?” He nodded once, his face set like stone. “You don’t want to see her hurt, do you?”

He shook his head slowly, unsure of what I was talking about.

I locked my hands behind my back at the bottom of my spine and dropped to the ground on my knees.

“What are you doing?!” Curtis voice broke as he cried out and rushed to me. I bowed my head and raised my eyes to meet his. “Skye, get up.”

“If you trigger the change in Lois, this is what she will do.”

“Please, Skye, get up.” His plea was desperate, his eyes welled with unshed tears.

“If you trigger the change in Lois, only Phil can get her back. Do you think he’ll do that for us, knowing we’re onto him?”

“No.” He grabbed my elbow and pulled me to my feet. “Don’t do that. Don’t you ever fucking do that again.”

“I had to show you. You had to feel it so you wouldn’t make the mistake with Lois. We
have to
protect her.”

His fingers dug into my flesh until it felt like they’d reached bone. The pain hurt, burnt like a hot flame, but all I felt was relief. He was with me.

“I know.” He pulled me into him and crushed me to his chest. “I know.”

I took comfort in his embrace. We took comfort in each other. And then his phone buzzed between us, breaking us out of the bubble we’d put ourselves in.

“Answer it,” I said, pulling back and wrapping his hoodie around me as the cold chilled my bones.

“Lois,” he said, frowning as he answered the phone and kept his eyes on mine.

He was making sure I was there to catch him if he fell. I was. He was my animal and I would protect him until my time on Earth was done.

His face rapidly drained of colour, turning a ghostly white and he dropped his arm to his side.

His phone fell to the grass and his voice broke when he whispered, “It’s Geoff.”

Hypnosis. Manipulation. Sensory whatever-she-said. Triggers. Darkness…Phil.

What the fuck did it all mean? He was hypnotising Kent one wife at a time – or all at the same time? What did it mean for Lois? For Skye? For Ollie? For the entire world that seemed to play some sort of part in the fuckuppery that was my life? I couldn’t save them, but I had to save them. I couldn’t find Phil because his psycho girlfriend – the woman I thought was Australian and using me because she wasn’t getting it elsewhere – was, well, a psycho; but I had to find him. Screw what Skye said about mind control and depri-whatsit. Rochelle – Tiffany – was crazy but she had all the answers. She knew where Phil was hiding.

Lois. I’d never heard so much pain in my aunt’s voice. Not since she told me about the day my parents died, when I was eight and realised they weren’t coming home. She cried then; a cry that was beautiful yet tragic, even to my immature ears…and she cried like that again when she called me and said the one sentence I’d never anticipated hearing.

“It’s about Geoff…”

~Curtis~

The car flew. Where were we going? I didn’t know, but I stayed quiet. Curtis was gone; a machine focused on one thing – making it back to London in record-time without killing anyone.

He hadn’t said a word since he dropped his phone and mentioned Geoff’s name. I knew how close they were; Geoff was the only father Curtis had had since his parents died. Curtis was able to control the pain that tortured him because Geoff had prepared him, trained him to protect himself from self-destruction. Were it not for Geoff, Curtis would have been in prison…or worse.

I knew something had happened between them. Curtis said he was mad at Geoff, but I didn’t know why, and the race back to the city told me Curtis wasn’t angry with Geoff. He was angry with himself.

“What happened?” I asked, finding the bravery to talk to him. I hoped it wouldn’t backfire.

“Nothing.”

I held onto his hand and he squeezed mine in response. “Tell me what happened. We’re in this together, remember.”

“I let him down. I hurt him, Skye. I hurt him and I refused to apologise.”

“How?”

“I was a mess. I
am
a mess.” He sighed, filled with the self-pity I knew he loathed. “He asked me to sign a fighter and I agreed…and then I met Jesse and went back on something I said I’d do. When he confronted me, I offered him money.”

“Money?”

He nodded. “It’s what I do. I fuck and I buy myself out of trouble.”

A niggling of realisation hit me, but I didn’t know why or where it had come from. I squeezed his hand a little tighter and kept my eyes off the road, on him as his eyes flitted over the surroundings for incoming danger. I said nothing, afraid I’d ask a question I didn’t want the answer to, and continued to reassure him as he weaved between cars and pressed harder on the accelerator.

When signs for London began to whizz past us in a blur, Curtis hit a button on his on-board screen and a dial tone filled the car.

“Ah, my boss returns,” Angelica answered with an audible smile.

“I need you to do something for me.”

“Just say the word. When are you coming back?”

“I don’t know. Yusef is fine without me. Listen, I need you to call the Harley Street Clinic. I need every fucking piece of information you can get. I want to know what the consultants have for breakfast and how often they sleep.”

Curtis’ hand left mine and he dragged it through his hair. Geoff was sick.

“Is everything okay?” Angelica asked.

“Would I be asking this is it weren’t?” he bit. “Just get me the information and an appointment with someone.”

“Yes, boss.” Her voice shook with concern. “Is it you?”

“No, it isn’t me.” Curtis’ voice softened, but the pain and worry became more obvious as he ran a red light and tore around a bend. “Let me know…thanks, Angelica.”

“No problem.”

Curtis hung up and turned another corner into a carpark. I hurried to follow him out of the car and chased after him through the entrance of a gym.

“Don’t leave me behind,” I said, wrapping my arms around his waist when we stepped into a lift and Curtis hit the button for the top floor. “I’m here for you.”

He kissed the top of my head and held me close, but said nothing.

He took my hand and led me out of the lift, crossing the open space that looked like a replica of Geoff’s Gym back in Kent. We headed for the office, ignoring the people around us training, as they stopped and watched the intruders storm towards theit room at the back. This place, these people, weren’t part of Curtis’ life. He had been completely segregated from the world he once knew.

I pulled his hoodie tighter around me as he knocked on the door but didn’t wait for a response before pulling me into the room.

Curtis froze as Geoff gasped in surprise and stood up in shock.

“’Ello, son,” he said, forcing his gaunt face into a smile.

Were it not for his name on the label on the panel in the lift, or on the plaque that was fixed on the door we had just charged through, I wouldn’t have recognised him as the same pot-bellied, charismatic, typical cheeky East Londoner he was when I last saw him, in 2003.

“Geoff.” Curtis deflated, let go of my hand and threw his arms around the frail man in front of him.

“Lois called you, eh?” He patted his back and I realised it was Geoff doing the comforting.

“Why didn’t you?” Curtis stepped back and studied him. “Why didn’t you call me, old man?”

“I didn’t call Lois, either.”

“But-”

Curtis looked at me and I realised I was edging towards the door. I felt like an intruder as the father-son, mentor-protégé energy passed between the two men.

“Geoff, this is-”

“Pamela,” Geoff interrupted and sucked in a short breath. “I remember ya, sweet’art. I never forget a pretty face.”

“Skye,” Curtis corrected. “This is Skye.”

He stared at Geoff, wondering if he was delusional.

“I’ll explain later.” I told him, gripping the door handle. “I’ll be outside.”

Curtis nodded and I stepped out of the office, pressing my back to the closed door and shut my eyes.

Weight machines, metal on metal, crashed and pinged, punchbags huffed and sighed as they were pounded; a couple of chuckles and jovial insults echoed around the gym as two men sparred, and then a voice broke through, addressing me.

“Hey,” the low voice said, making me open my eyes to find the source.

The man in front of me was just a kid, with hooded eyes that momentarily distracted me from the painful reunion in the room behind me, and made me wonder why this clean-shaven twenty-something year-old looked so angry.

“Hey,” was my reply.

“My partner is running late…would you mind?”

“Mind what?”

“Well,” he shrugged. “There are spare gloves in the drawer next to you. They probably stink a bit, but they’re decent.”

“You want me to fight you?”

He shrugged again. “Might as well waste some time while you’re waiting.”

“How do you know I can fight?”

“You must be able to, to keep up with him.” He nodded past me and I turned to see Curtis through the slats of the blinds, pacing the room and pulling his hair viciously.

“You know Curtis?”

“Sure.” He winked. “We’re old friends. There are some clothes in there, too. Changing rooms are behind you.”

He turned and walked to the ring, climbing the steps and bending to ease through the top two ropes. I thought about it for a second, but I wanted to fight. If Curtis could, why couldn’t I? This guy seemed nice, despite whatever anger lurked beneath the exterior. He wouldn’t take it out on me – he just wanted to spar. I could do that. I rummaged in the drawer for some trousers and a t-shirt; they must have had women here often. I changed quickly in the locker room and set my clothes on top of the cabinet of drawers, picked up the gloves I’d chosen and made my way to the ring.

The man set one foot on the bottom rope, his hand on the middle, and pushed them apart for me. I paused for a beat, thinking of Oliver, thinking of Thomas; thinking of Curtis. And then I stepped in.

He pulled a leather head guard onto my head and flicked my hair behind my shoulders before he fastened the strap under my chin, then he held out one gloved hand and I bumped it with mine.

“Skye,” I offered with a genuine smile, grateful to be free from the cloud of pain, if just for a minute.

He smiled in return; a crooked smile of boyish excitement.

“Benny.”

I’d never seen Geoff cry. I’d never seen him angry, or afraid, or out of control. I did all that. I did all the crying, snivelling like a baby when he sat me down on the chair and tried to explain what was happening to him. All I could hear were fading beeps of the machines in a hospital, the drip of liquid in an IV, the coughing and spluttering of approaching death, and Geoff’s voice faded into nothing but a distant murmur as I slipped further and further away and turned to look out of the window of the office, hoping to see the woman who I would need more than ever before. I needed her to be there for me, because if she wasn’t? I was going to follow Geoff.

What I saw when I blocked Geoff out, just for a second, to find my sanctuary, brought the murderous thoughts back in full force.

~Curtis~

I hadn’t fought with anything but my mind for years, and couldn’t remember how to stand, or how to punch fluidly so it wouldn’t ache, but thankfully, Benny was gentle. He put some combinations together and we practised on each other; he hit me just enough to cause gusts of breath to rush out, and I hit him hard enough to get a sense of satisfaction.

“Left, left, right,” he instructed with a grin. “Left, left, right.”

I smiled as I moved to a rhythm, and the momentum picked up until we were taking it in turns, knowing what was coming next, and bobbing and weaving to avoid it and catch the other off guard.

I laughed, carefree for the first time in a long time, and the tension around Benny’s eyes began to ease. Fighting really was a release, and you didn’t have to hurt someone to feel it.

“What the fuck?”

Benny hit me in the stomach as I turned, hearing Curtis’ voice and reacting to the aggression it held. I doubled over with a high-pitched grunt of surprise and Curtis shot into the ring, grabbed Benny by the throat and thrust him into the post in the corner.

“Curtis.” I stood up straight, composed myself and addressed him calmly. “It’s okay. We were just sparring while we waited.”

“For what?” He asked, turning to me as Benny shoved him off with a smile that was no longer friendly.

I’d been played, and Curtis had stepped into the trap.

“I was waiting for you, and Benny was waiting for his partner.”

“Get out of the ring, Skye.”             

“Only if you come with me.”

He sighed, deciding not to fight me as Geoff appeared by the canvas. Curtis stepped up to the ropes and held them open; I climbed out and jumped to the floor, turning to watch him do the same. There was little doubt in my mind that he wouldn’t have walked away if Geoff wasn’t there. I was grateful, but the dread of leaving fell over me.

“He doesn’t have a partner, Skye. He’s a murderer on the run.”

I gasped and looked at Benny. He raised his hands, glared at me over his gloves and wiggled his eyebrows.

“Do not move.”

Curtis put one hand on my shoulder as if to fix me to the spot, and disappeared into the office, returning seconds later with a small piece of paper. He threw it into the ring and I caught the address scrawled on it as it floated to the canvas.

Benny snatched it up and smiled in satisfaction.

“Tomorrow, Geoff,” Curtis said.

He tore the gloves from my hands, grabbed the back of my neck, and steered me towards the lift, my clothes forgotten.

“What was on the paper, Curtis?”

We were rushing back through the gym and out towards the carpark. Curtis was manhandling me, ignoring my unbalanced stumbles, and kept me in stride with him with his fingertips digging into my neck.

“Nothing,” he grunted.

“What’s wrong with Geoff?”

He opened the passenger door and shoved me in, muttering the same one word answer. I pulled the seatbelt on and waited for him.

“I’m not a ragdoll,” I snapped when he folded himself into the car and wasted no time starting the engine and pulling away from the gym. “Put your belt on.” He pulled it across his body and I took it off him to clip it into the socket. “You can't keep pulling me around like I'm nothing. I have a say in this, too.”

“Not this.”

“Not this? Not Charlie? Not the truth you kept from me about Oliver? What exactly do I have a say in?”

Curtis didn’t answer and we were quiet as he eased the car through the traffic, the sun beginning to set over the city and casting bright orange rays between the buildings.

“You promised,” he whispered. I looked at him, but his eyes were fixed on the road, obviously avoiding me, like I wasn’t meant to have heard him.

“What?”

His eyes flickered to me and then back to the road. There were no signs of darkness, just a broken man. I wanted the darkness to return; anything but to have to see the defeated look in his glistening eyes.

“You promised you’d never step foot in a ring, and you did. With
him
.”

“Now is not the time for jealousy.”

“Actually, it is.” He pulled up at a red light, grabbed a bottle of water from the side of the door and drank some before handing the bottle to me. “He’s a murderer, has some sort of screwed up vendetta against me, the quitter, and then he gets one-up by getting my girl in the ring.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“The industry is like that. Our women are protected from the filthy thoughts in the others’ heads. You do
not
put gloves on another fighter’s woman.”

“It had nothing to do with me. He was trying to rile you up.”

“He did. He was making a point. I’m not a fighter, I gave up…so he had the right to do that to you.”

“It’s not a game.”

“It is to Benny. You wanna eat?” he changed the subject, whipped my head around in a U-turn and waited for my hungry nod before he spun me back again. “If you’d have kept your promise, he wouldn’t be in the gym now, telling everyone what he did.”

“What promise?”

“You don’t remember?” He shot me a look that forced me to turn his head back in the direction of the road.

“No.”

“You promised you’d never step foot in a ring. Any ring…ever.”

I did promise him that, years ago in a dark gym in Kent when I was falling apart and needed Curtis to hold the pieces back together. Now it was up to me to do that for him.

“I did, didn’t I? I'm sorry, Curtis. I-”

“You forgot, I know.” He sighed, disappointed. “Now you see why I have the word
trust
inked on my body forever.”

“Thanks,” I bit. “A fucking guilt trip is all we’re short of right now.”

“I can't…I can't see you standing in a ring ready to fight. Like Ollie did. I can't see you in the same position he was in when he died. It will break me, Skye, and I’m just about keeping it together for us.”

We said nothing else as Curtis drove around the city, looking for a parking spot so we could go and eat. I didn’t want food now, not after that. I wanted to hide. I hated myself for breaking a promise I made Curtis. I felt guilty; I’d felt nothing but guilt since I let him throw me out over a decade ago. Seeing him now, being back around him and being able to feel his pain like it was my own, reinforced that shame. If I’d have refused to leave and not let him push me away, I could have saved him. I was ten years too late, but by God, I’d save him now.