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Authors: Jaye Peaches

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BOOK: Trust Me to Know You
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“Sorry,” I muttered. “I felt a little faint, that’s all.”

“Do you need an ambulance or something?” she asked kindly.

“No, no.”

I was shaking, trembling and even though the air was warm, I was cold.

She managed to extract the name of the company I worked for and she knew my building. We were close and she walked next to me until we reached the revolving entrance door.

“I’m fine now,” I lied.

She was not convinced but we parted company and I gave her a smile of thanks.

Once in the expansive lobby, I made it to the small arrangement of plain red sofas where visitors waited to be met and I flopped down in one. No matter how hard I tried to collect my thoughts and unscramble my pulverised nerves,
I failed. I must have looked a sight as I was attracting the attention of two men at the reception desk.

“Miss Marshall, are you unwell?” said a familiar voice.

I looked up into the concerned face of Jason’s regular driver. He must have been passing the desk and saw me on the sofa.

“I….”

Nothing sensible formed in my head. I was a blithering wreck of paranoia and flash frame images, as if a slideshow was being played at high speed. I blinked at him, trying to focus on the distant face. Why did he look so far away?

He guided me through the turnstile to a room at the back of the ground floor. An open plan office with several desks and chairs, of which one desk was set to one side and larger in all dimensions. Somebody was seated in the room, a blur on the edge of my peripheral visual.

“Leave us,” snapped Martinson briskly to the occupant as he deposited me in a chair.

A plastic cup of cold water was thrust into my hands and the coolness permeated into my skin. The contents splashed on to my stockings as my hands continued to shake uncontrollably.

“Miss?” he said gently taking it out of my hands and offering the liquid to my lips.

I sipped and felt the water wash away the acrid taste in my mouth.

I could hear him talking on the telephone.

“I don’t know, sir. I found her in the lobby. She’s white as a sheet.”

I had to get a grip of myself, shutting my eyes I took deep breaths. I reminded myself that I had been mistaken. A look-alike
but not him. How easy it was for me to fall to pieces though. My
vulnerability alarmed me and I could not stop the tiny rivulets of tears streaking down my face.

Deep breaths.

The door opened behind me and I gasped with surprise. It was Jason. No jacket and his necktie loosely tied about his collar,
I was stunned by his appearance. Martinson must have summoned him from his top floor sanctuary. I quickly wiped the tears away with my sleeve.

He crouched next to my chair and took my hands in his. I expected him to be baffled and he did look concerned too, which relieved me.

“Gem, what’s wrong?” he asked softly.

“Nothing, just…”

I did not
want him to know. My disabling memories were back behind bolted doors an
d his presence helped dissipate my anxieties. I felt foolish at my stupid act of mistaken identity.

“Are you ill?” he asked stroking my knuckles with his thumbs.

“Oh no,” I said quickly. “I thought I saw…. Out on the street. It was a mistake. Silly of me. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine, quite the contrary.”

“I rushed my lunch and it made me feel a little faint, that’s all.” I sought excuses that sounded viable.

“Do you want Martinson to drive you home?” he asked.

“No!” I said alarmed. To be on my own was not what I wanted. “I’ll be OK. Once I’m back at my desk and everything digested.” I patted my stomach with my trembling hand.

Jason stood up and then look down at me, as if he was weighing up my state.

“Alright,” he said without conviction. “What did you see?”

“Sorry?” I made a pretence at confusion.

“On the street?”

“Nothing. Honestly. Sorry, I’ve got you down here for no good reason.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he said firmly.

Lying was not my forte and I could see he was not convinced by my denial. He could do little as with each passing moment my memories sank away, the sense of dread lifted and I became in control of my faculties again. I made a concerted effort to stop my hands trembling.

“Please, Jason, forget about this. I ate too quickly
and got light-headed,” I said and stood up. My feet held firm and there was no residual dizziness. I smiled at him.

We walked to the lift shaft together without speaking and he pressed the button for my floor. I glanced at him and tried to ignore the rising sense of embarrassment. Nothing was said as we parted company. Nevertheless, I could tell he was not
fobbed off my rapid recovery. There was one thing I had l
earnt quickly about Jason Lucas, he was very perceptive and not likely to be fooled by lies.

I was treated, later in the evening, to a rare text from Jason.

: Are you OK?

A simple message, so I sent him a simple reply.

: Absolutely fine. Watching really bad TV show, you’d hate it

 

***

 

I could barely hear Trudy’s voice over the music. Wednesday evening and we were having a drink in
an exceptionally noisy pub a few streets from where I worked. Trudy had
dashed over from her office where she worked as a clerk for an insurance company. She was already downing her second glass of wine and wriggling in her seat in time to the music.

Trudy and I went back many years
to a time we hardly remember. Our mums
had
worked together when Trudy and I were small and they had become lifelong friends. Many weekends I would play at Trudy’s house as we dressed dolls and told each other our secrets. I
did not tell
Trudy my secrets anymore. Eventually we
had drifted apart as our parents moved about and we had relied on phone calls and occasional catch up
visits. When I
had graduated and I came to work in the City, we had rekindled our friendship,
easy now that we worked no more than a few streets from each other now. She
had introduced her own friends to me while I tried to build liaisons at my old job. It became easier to adopt her friends than maintain relationships with indifferent work colleagues.

“Look, Trudy,
it is hard at the moment. New job and everything. I can’t be out with you every
evening.”

She had been backing me into a corner for the past few weeks, constantly wanting to go out to nightclubs with me.

“Every evening! Gem, name an evening?” she frowned at me and I felt awkward.

The lie filled chat was not going well.

“I’m still waiting for an explanation of why you wouldn’t see me for practically a month, plus you’re disappearing at the weekends again. What is it about the weekends? Most girls your age are partying and the like, you vanish into a black hole!” Trudy took a large swig from her glass.

“You know
and have always known it is not my scene. Not at the weekend. I visit my parents and spend time doing my artwork. I am an introvert,” I restated the same old defences.

Trudy rolled her eyes up at the ceiling.

“I’ve seen you dance, Gemma. There is no way that is the behaviour of an introvert.” She looked past me over my shoulder, “Oh, he’s a hunk. What do you think?”

I looked over my shoulder at the dark haired man Trudy had latched on to with her eyes
. Had she no shame at all? It
would not
have surprised me if yet again I made my own way home and she swanned off with a man on her arm. I sighed, oh Trudy
, one day you were going to regret your wayward antics.

I looked down at my empty glass.

“One for the road then?”

She was already gone from my side and I wondered why I bothered sometimes with her company. The simple answer was Trudy was all I had. Her friends were my friends and beyond them there was a heaving throng of an abandoned past. I circled a finger around the rim of my glass. I knew the inbox of my personal email account was full to brimming with invitations. To this party, this gathering or event and some from individuals who sought me privately for one-to-one meeting. I had ignored the bulk of them and had replied to only a handful who I did not
want to offend. The reality was I
did not want to go back to those people I once called friends and acquaintances. Some even had been my bedfellows and I dismissed them all. Eventually my lack of interest and response would bring the most concerned to my door. I would then have to decide once and for all where my future lay.

 

***

 

The following morning and I was at my desk half-listening to the gossip. This manager, that manager, endless tittle-tattle. I heard Jason’s name mentioned and perked up to listen.

“He’s gay, come on, never seen with a girl. He has to be.”

I sniggered quietly – how wrong they were!

“I heard that he’s going to retire early to a tropical island with a harem of virgins,” another voice boasted. There was lots of laughter around that idea.

“Gemma, what do you make of Mr Lucas? You’ve had a one-to-one meeting with him after all,” Penny sidled up to my desk. I tried not to blush.

“Well, all I know is he likes my software, so read what you want into that,” I grinned back and she flounced off satisfied.

Friday came around again and I got a text ping. M
y
Jason Lucas.

 

: Someone will pick you up at the usual time and I’ll meet you there.

 

No signoff just the one sentence. I had a moment of foreboding, what was going on?

Another impersonal driver picked me up at my apartment. How many did he employ? He deposited my bag in the boot and held the car door open for me. I
could not keep the nerves out of my hands as I smoothed down my skirt yet again.

“Music, Miss?” asked the driver. I shook my head as he looked at me in the mirror. Not today.

The house felt colder than usual.
I could sense his absence straight away. Leaving my overnight bag in the master
bedroom, I made myself a tea. Hearing a voice,
I headed to the entrance hall expecting to find him there, but the voice was coming from CCTV room. I approached cautiously, upon entering the small room a dark suited man sprung up and stared straight at me. He put his mobile
phone
away in his pocket. I recognised his face as
my earlier driver.

“Everything alright, Miss Marshall?” he asked keenly.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise anyone was here.”

I felt uncomfortable with the young man. He was tall, well built
and his eyes had intelligence lurking behind them. He
was no more comfortable with my presence then I was with his.

“I’m just finishing off setting up the perimeter cameras.” As if I needed an explanation for his presence. I was not sure what setting up
entailed but he pressed the keys on his keyboard. Then I heard the front door open and shut. Jason was back.

I dashed out into the hallway to see him there, loosening his tie and kicking his shoes off. The security man came out and stood behind me.

“What’s going on?” asked Jason curtly, looking first at me and then back to the other man.

“Fixing a monitor. Everything is good, Mr Lucas, just heading off to the gatehouse for the night,” the security man answered quickly.

Jason nodded in acknowledgement and the man turned on his heels, heading towards the back door by the utility room.

“What were you doing in there?” Jason’s voice was icy, not the warm reception I was expecting.

“Nothing, honestly. I was bored and wanted to explore. I didn’t expect to find anyone there,” I answered clearly in a calm voice. I was not guilty of anything. Jason relaxed his stance and I followed him into the kitchen.

“Let's eat,” was all he said.

A well-practiced routine followed as we found food and drink and sat down to an unusually quiet meal.

“Busy day?” I asked.

“Yes, but it is over now,” replied Jason neutrally.

He got up, mealtime was over and he held out his hand to me.

“Come we need to talk.”

I took his warm hand in mine. A thumb rubbed over my knuckles, a small gesture of reassurance. I followed him not to the bedroom but to the large sitting room and we settled into one of the long couches side by side. I sensed the apprehension rising in me again, was this it? The end of the line speech.

“Gemma, I know we’ve been having a good time together this last month.”

I nodded in agreement waiting on his next words.

“Trouble is I know we’re not being honest with each other. We both have a sexual history and it is obvious you’re more experienced than you first appeared. No beating about the bush anymore. No secrets.”

I looked down at my hands and sensed the end game coming. Once he knew about my past, my preferences and true nature, he might not like me. I was rapidly losing confidence.

Jason cleared his throat. “I’ve not been honest with you.”

I glanced up to see Jason looking with unease
at me! What was going on
?

“More a lie of omission,” he said. “You see I’m thirty-one and I came to the conclusion that life is passing me by when it comes to important things in life. Here I sit in a big empty house, on my own. Well, mostly on my own.” He smiled a fraction at me. “So recently I decided to change my approach. I want you to come with me and I’m going to show you my secret.”

He held out his hand, my legs were getting weaker with anticipation as I followed him.

He led me not upstairs but to the corridor at the back of the house and we came to the
mysterious locked door.
Jason looked visibly uneasy and I had not seen him look so tense before now. He unlocked the door and held it open for me. A small anteroom with a closet and bench, similar to a cloakroom. He pushed the next door open and I crossed the threshold.

My mouth gaped wide and my legs went completely jelly like. I never imagined I would see what I was seeing.

BOOK: Trust Me to Know You
13.08Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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