Sympathy for the Devil (18 page)

       My mind stayed blank for a blissful few moments, then my knuckles really started to hurt. Men had types. I finally accepted the truth as my hand throbbed in pain. Of course he didn’t want me. No tits, not blonde, more than two brain cells to rub together and far, far too casual about sex. Why the fuck had I slept with him? I’d known something wasn’t right. That niggling sensation at the pit of my stomach, the way he had acted afterwards. Like he was never going to see me again. No, it hadn’t been about me at all.
You’re a stupid bitch, Carina Collins
.

       “Cari,” Toni started, her voice a whimper inside the car. “Won’t your grandparents mind?”

       “Nah,” I said simply. “They’re on holiday.” I kept my eyes on the road. I couldn’t look at her. Not without thinking of Pierce’s hands all over her. That bastard. “T,” I begged. “Talk to me. What the hell happened?”

       She sucked in a trembling breath. “West and I were only seeing each other. We weren’t sleeping together. Not then. Pierce came to see me and I knew he didn’t like me. I knew it, he just made it really clear, from the minute we met. So I talked to him. And for some reason I told him about James... I don’t know why!” she wailed at my horrified gasp.

       Why would she do something so fundamentally stupid around someone so fundamentally calculating?

       “I was trying to make him understand where I was coming from. That I understood what it was like to have people talk about you. So he’d see me as a real person, not some wide-eyed innocent who didn’t have a clue about anything. I told him I wasn’t going anywhere. That I liked West and then...then...”

       “It’s okay,” I assured her, trying to keep my voice fluid. “Just tell me.”

       “He... he somehow found Ben, and brought him to that party in Brixton, on the Bank Holiday.” Oh, God. Oh. Dear. God. “I didn’t mean for it to happen but we...again,” she whispered, her words nearly choked by her tears. She breathed out, as I felt my entire brain crush into itself. “I know it's my own fault. But with Pierce pushing me and West taking his cue, I just wanted to be around someone who didn’t feel the same way. Someone I trusted. But it backfired and everything Pierce said... That West deserved better. That I’d never make him happy... All I did was prove him right. I felt so guilty. Ben didn’t take it well when I said I wanted to make things work with West, and he said he wouldn’t say anything. But Pierce found out. I don’t know how. Saturday, I begged him not to say anything and he said he wouldn’t unless West asked him. But he lied. He had to. Only me, him, and Ben knew. And Ben wouldn’t have gone near West. All I wanted was for us to get on. If not be friends, then be civil. I wanted Pierce to like me so much. I don’t know what I did to make him hate me.”

       I felt sick. He’d done that to my best friend, and I let that bastard touch me. I let myself like him, really like him. I actually thought he cared about me, when all the time…

       “Let’s put on some music, shall we?” I said in a perky, children’s TV presenter voice.

       Toni started to cry. “I’m so sorry.”

       “Don’t be,” I said firmly. “They’re both a bunch of pussies.”

       “Oh, please don’t say that about West,” she begged me. “He doesn’t know all of it.”

       “Did he give you the chance?” I asked, forgetting how brutal I was sounding. I had never hated men more. “When Pierce did his Iago stint, did West give you a minute to explain or did he just expect you to heel?”

       “He did what Pierce expected him to,” she muttered. “And it’s my own fault. I walked straight into it.”

       I put Queen on and made her sing along to “Bohemian Rhapsody” as we Lewis Hamilton-ed it down to my grandparents’ home in Brighton. The one place I hadn’t told Bastard No. 1 about so he wouldn’t come chasing after us. Toni. I kicked myself. He wanted Toni. Jesus, I let that man put his cock inside me.

       Toni seemed a bit better once we pulled up outside the house. I loved my grandparents’ home. You could see the sea, taste the salt on the air, almost taste France! The sun shone brightly, sparkling on the water, turning it a near-tropical blue. I felt for a moment that I wasn’t even in England. Plus the house had a spa-style bathroom. Nan’s kinky like that.

       I ushered Toni inside and set our bags down. She stood in the living room staring at a photo. It was of me, my grandparents, my brothers, sister, and my parents at their fortieth wedding anniversary, in front of a huge cake with an even huger banner behind them.

       “That’s never going to be me,” Toni said sadly. “I keep fucking things up.”

       She collapsed into helpless tears and I held onto her tightly. I felt utterly useless in my comfort. He’d broken my heart too.

***

       Toni and I finished washing up after we’d cooked up a storm and stuffed ourselves stupid. I pictured a mound of spots erupting all over my face, but after all the facials and sleep we’d had, I would be very surprised. Toni’s mobile rang from upstairs, and she ran to get it. Mine started vibrating so I wiped my hands on the tea towel and hoped Phoebe hadn’t been at my MAC eye shadows again. Last time they ended up crushed to a powdery pulp in her bed. Let’s just say I had cause to buy a new one.

       The screen only read “CALL” which instantly put me on edge so I answered cautiously. “Hello?”

       “Cari,” came Pierce’s voice. My stomach dissolved in a combination of fear and misery. “Don’t hang up.”

       I looked up the stairs for Toni. “I don’t want to do this.”

       “I do,” he countered furiously. “You need to hear me out.”

       “I’m not listening anymore! Have you lost your mind?” I snapped. “Whenever I hear you, all I can think about is how well you played me and Toni. All either of us wanted was for you to like us.”

       “For Christ’s sake, I do! Why do think I came around to apologise? Why am I calling now?”

       “Guilt?” I suggested. “Sympathy? I don’t know. I don’t care. Now whatever psychiatric business you’re trying to establish, you can leave me right out of it. Stop trying to mind-fuck me.”

       “Cari.” His voice sounded so strained, but I wasn’t having any of it.

       “I’m cutting you off now,” I informed him coldly, then disconnected.

       My hands were shaking and I jumped out of my skin when Toni said softly, “Who was that?”

       I smiled nervously and lied. “Cold caller. I can’t bear people trying to stick insurance on me in the middle of the night.” I shoved my hands in my pockets, mobile included. “Are you finding everything okay?”

       Toni nodded, sweeping her hair onto her right shoulder. “Is it cool if I make a phone call? My battery’s died.”

       “Course, hon! You don’t have to ask. Pick a room and enjoy the privacy. You know Grams and Pops have to have one in each room in case of an emergency. Happy phoning.”

       The mobile vibrated against my thigh, so I pulled it out, saw Pierce’s number, and switched it off. Toni tapped her foot then blurted, “Do you think I should call him?”

       “West? It’s up to you.”

       Toni jiggled her foot in agitation. “I want to know what you think.”

       “I can’t tell you what to do.”

       “It’s just…” Her voice broke, and she swallowed hard. “I miss him. A lot. But he won’t talk to me. I thought that maybe if I… you know? What do you think?”

       I took a deep breath. “Honestly? No. Write to him. He can then read it when he’s ready instead of just putting the phone down on you.”

       Toni nodded. “Will you talk to him for me?”

       “Coming from the enemy camp?” I said wryly. “I’ll do my best. Why don’t you have a bath? Set the Jacuzzi and relax a little. You don’t look so hot,” I added as a lame joke.

       “You can talk.” She grinned. She looked at me for a long time. “You liked him, didn’t you? I mean really liked him.”

       My smile stiffened. “Irrelevant. I don’t date demons.”

       “Brimstone chars your lace underwear?” she teased.

       “I don’t need a hell-fire tan. So last season. So Donatella Versace.”

       “You don’t need a tan full stop.” Again came the long scrutiny. I knew what she was going to say, and I didn’t want to hear it, but it came in any case.

       “I’m sorry. About him. I didn’t know he felt like that about me,” she sounded so desperately apologetic, my eyes stung.

       “I wouldn’t worry. He’s out of the picture.”

       She stared down at her hands. I had to get out of this room, now, before I started to do something stupid like cry. “Look, I’m going upstairs to bed. Relax, okay? No one’s out to get you here.”

       “Thank you,” she said, giving me a hug and a quick kiss, “for doing this.”

       “I wouldn’t be a proper friend if I hadn’t.” I held my face in check until I was in my room. I sat on the floor by the bed and slowly reached for my phone. There was a new voice message, and inevitably, it was from Pierce.

       “Will you talk to me? Please? This is killing me, just… please just turn on your phone.”

      
It’s killing you?
I thought angrily.
You’re hurt? What about me? There was so much I wanted from us, and you destroyed it.

       I punched a number viciously on the keypad. An automaton informed me blankly that the message had been erased. I dropped the phone and pressed the heel of my hands into my eyes, preventing any flow of tears. Crying with Toni so close was an unaffordable luxury.

       News of West and Toni’s dramatic breakup swept everyone into a frenzy. More so that Cari knocked me off my feet. Speculation was rife until Adele Cox made it known that I had been messing around with Toni. She even went one better. Sent me a message with a picture attachment.

      
To remember the mission by
, she wrote cruelly.

       I stared at the picture, my heart squeezing itself into a pained little lump. It was a photo of me and Cari and the party. She had her back to the camera, but her profile was visible as she had one hand to my face, directing it toward her. With that dress and the look on her face, it blistered all over again, that this beautiful girl had cared about me, and I had ruined it all. I had a hand to the small of her back in the photo; on my face was writ nothing but adoration. I recalled exactly what she said to me at that precise moment, whichever bastard had taken that picture.

       “I’ll be your mate.” She’d just laughed. I couldn’t now even hope for friendship with her, and I couldn’t blame her for it.

       Guilt is a terrible emotion, with the serious purpose of deterrence from mistreating your fellow man. I found myself emotionally crippled by it, despite going out every single night getting hammered with willing females who were glad to not have the figure of Cari Collins in their way. I hated the way I felt, I hated missing her, I hated hearing about her from girls who were feeling out what had happened between us. It was taboo. Anyone who brought it up was decidedly cut from the conversation. I pulled a string of girls, all my usual blonde daddy’s girls, trying to drive Cari out of my head. It wasn’t working. I only hated myself more.

       I finally lost my patience with myself and decided I could cure myself by going to see her. I was living a dream, making a memory into more than what it was. I was disappointed the first time, as Phoebe, with distrustful eyes, told me Cari was still in Brighton, and when she came back, she’d be moving out straight after the exams. In case Phoebe had been lying, I came back every day to check she was still away.

       I sat in my car on Friday afternoon, ignoring a phone call from the girl who had tried to talk her way into my designer boxers the night before, when a blue VW pulled up. Cari emerged from the driver’s seat and yanked out some bags. She headed up the stairs leading up to her digs. I immediately got out of my car.

       “Cari!” I called. She turned to see where the sound came from and when she saw me, her face visibly lost colour. Her lips tightened briefly before she turned back and carried on.

       “Stay away from me,” she threw behind her.

       I chased after her with determination. “Cari!”

       She rounded on me in a blaze. “I said stay. Away. From. Me! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”

       I couldn’t hold her gaze any more. I couldn’t stand seeing the detestation in her eyes when just two weeks ago she’d had her arms wrapped about my neck, wanting me. “I can’t do that,” I said softly.

       “For once in your fucking, pathetic, bitter life, try,” she snapped, turning back up the stairs and slamming the heavy door behind her.

      
I did!
I wanted to yell at her. But she was gone. She was still utterly beautiful, irreplaceable, and she hated me. I had to change her mind, I had to explain to her why I had done what I’d done. But not now. Right now, I need a drink.