Sympathy for the Devil (5 page)

       Opening and shutting his mouth like a fish, he went beetroot colour, then Rick stormed out of the café.

       Toni grinned at her friend. “You’re terrible. I actually almost felt sorry for him!”

       “He should grow a backbone then,” I said, routing around for my menthols.

       “What a good judge of character you are,” Cari said stoically, sending me a sly wink. “Right, are we going to Waterstones or not?” She pulled a book list from her bag. “I’m halfway through that contract assignment, and that second year who lives above me told me a really good book to get.”

       Toni and West exchanged looks, then Toni said, “We have stuff to do first. Why don’t you go on with Pierce and I’ll meet you outside Topshop in an hour?”

       Cari laughed. “Honey, it won’t take that long.”

       West wrapped an arm around Toni’s shoulders, “Ah, but we will.”

       I smelled a set-up, but Cari was so glorious, I didn’t altogether mind.

       “Whatcha say?” She turned to me, blinking slowly. As my stomach dissolved in what felt like fear, I knew she definitely did that on purpose.

       “Go on then,” I said with a put-upon sigh. “Let’s go. I need nicotine.”

       She took another sip of chocolate, then put the lid on, leaving it on the table. She tucked her arm through mine as I popped a Marlboro in my mouth. She took out a box of matches I noted were from a well-known members club and touched a lighted one to the end of my cigarette. We turned and waved to West and Toni, who looked like proud parents. We rounded the corner, where I hailed a taxi to take us down to Piccadilly Circus. I know it was lazy, but it wasn’t my money. Cari let go of my arm, and we drove off. She breathed out slowly and rested her head on the back of the seat, that lock of hair falling once more across her face. “We shouldn’t have done that.”

       I frowned and sucked on my cigarette. “What?”

       “Oh, God, Pierce,” she wailed. “Prolong their dire misconception that we’re going to start dating.”

       “Oh, no!” I mocked, suddenly yawning so hard my jaw ached. “So what?”

       She looked at me suspiciously. “I get the feeling you don’t like me.”

       “Why’s that?”

       “I’m a bit full-on,” she said wryly. “So I give it some, so people will know what I’m like. I can calm down if I know they can deal with it.”

       “Why go through all that for people you’ll probably never see again?”

       She smiled. “I don’t like leaving a bad impression on people. I feel it. It hangs on me like a knock-off Versace. And I’m getting the dress of distaste from you.”

       Okay, she was too clever by half for me. “You’re imagining things.”

       She reached out and touched a few fingers to my chin, drumming them in light succession. “Tell me the truth.”

       I gave her my premium, heart-attack-inducing smile, guaranteed to shut most women up. “From what I’ve seen of you, I like.”

       My smile was nothing compared to the one she beamed at me. “Shame the feeling’s not mutual.”

       “Oh, yeah?”

       “Yes. I know all about you. Girls call you Uni Casanova, which is about as witty as some of them can get, and you’ve only been here what, five months?”

       I rolled my eyes. “I’ve been propositioned a lot. I have standards so I’ve been trashed by a bitter tart.”

       “Ooh, yes, really liking you now,” she said dryly.

       “Woman, I don’t want or need your approval,” I retorted. “Unlike you I am unconcerned with the opinions of other people.”

       “Well, whose does concern you?”

       “Mine,” I told her sharply.

       “Opinionated, aren’t you?”

       I sighed. “Listen here. A good ninety percent of people you meet on a daily basis you will never talk to or see again. Why be constantly on the lookout to impress those whose names you’ll forget in a matter of minutes?”

       “Because some of us like being sociable,” she said on a laugh. “It’s how you make friends! How you get a favour, borrow a tenner, get lecture notes, bum a cigarette, have a place to crash when you’re too far from home.”

       “I’ve never needed to borrow money, I can catch up on lectures with or without sloppy help.” I rode over her protestations concerning the notes I had collected today. “And I’ve never ended up anywhere without the aid of a good black cab. Anything else?”

       “Friendship?” she questioned. The taxi pulled up in the side street that divided Regent Street and Piccadilly.

       I handed over a fiver and waited until Cari had circled the taxi to answer her. “Most friends are two-faced, backstabbing, and self-serving.”

       She made a face of complete disgust. “I don’t think West can even begin to fit into that category.”

       I touched a hand to her back to walk her across the road. “I did say most.”

       “You’re jaded.”

       “And you should take out those tinted contact lenses. And besides, who was the one effing and blinding at their ex?”

       “That’s different. He’s a prick.”

       “Rick the Prick,” I rhymed.

       “Witty.” She wrinkled her nose. I opened the door for her. A man walked straight into the glass, staring open mouthed at Cari, but she didn’t notice.

       “I do try to be.” I was annoyed that the fact I was walking proprietarily close to Cari didn’t stop men from sending her appraising looks. “Why’d you go out with him?”

       She shrugged. “I was sucked in by that shy, male beauty, then I realised he was gormless, then I realised he was a pretentious…”

       “Prick?” I offered.

       “Good word. Well done. Yes, a prick.” She shook her head, her hair swinging to cover an eye again. “I found my own spine when he called my mother selfish for asking me to pick her up after a hospital appointment. She has diabetes. I thought to myself, you don’t need to carry that kind of dead weight —move on and tell him to shut up while you’re at it.”

       “Do you always talk this much when you’re nervous?” I asked as we stepped into the lift.

       She frowned at me. “Why would I be nervous?”

       I shrugged and allowed my eyes to flick down her open coat. “I don’t know, you tell me.”

       She sent me a dubious look. “You are sorely mistaken if you think it’s some reaction to being alone with you.” She snorted with laughter as the lift reached the desired floor. “You are beyond vanity.”

       “I can’t help it. It’s a vibe,” I said lazily, following her to the law section.

       “Re-read the vibe.” She turned and placed a hand on my chest to stop me. “I’m smarter than the girls who drop their knickers for you. You are the most repellent, abrupt, sex-obsessed man I have ever met.”

       “How nice of you. Is that your real hair?” I asked blandly, stepping around her to pick up the textbook I needed.

       “Is that your real hair colour? Although it wouldn’t surprise me.”

       “Well, it is,” I said, rubbing a hand over my blond faux-hawk. “No need to sound so touchy. It was a minor query.”

       “To wind me up. Let me add infuriating to the list.”

       “Go ahead. I told you, what people think doesn’t bother me.”

       “I totally understand what Toni means about you.”

       “What would that be?”

       “You’re too much effort to even begin to waste time on.”

       “Is that Toni’s personal opinion? Hmm, I wonder if now is the time for me to start feeling hurt…”

       “Look,” she said with a determined breath. “Let’s just try to not run into each other.”

       “Cari, that just goes before the wrong idea that I’m attracted to you. You’re not my type.”

       “Thank God for that,” she snapped. “I like my hair black, I wouldn’t bother buying a spoilt mummy’s boy presents, and I have more than two brain cells to rub together.”

       “Not just that, darling,” I told her softly. “You make my ears want to bleed. Is that all you’re getting?” I pointed at her textbook. My hangover had just hit a peak of irritability, and I mentally dared her to say one more thing so I could finish her off. She did.

       “Shame about your face.” She smirked. “I bet it makes up for a small cock, right?”

       “It’s as big as you are,” I said genially. “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

       “A penile enlargement surgeon so I can help the unfortunate.”

       “I’d work on breasts if I were you,” I told her with a pointed look towards her chest. “And help yourself.”

       “I bet you’re frightened of women who can voice their complaints. I’d probably fall asleep before you got it out, the second that would take.”

       “You’ll never know. I have no plans to step inside a bedroom with you.”

       “Showing your imagination, Callun.”

       “Don’t bring your work into this. You being on the game has nothing to do with me.”

       “Paying for sex doesn’t and will never help you overcome your inadequacy. Presents from Aquascutum must make up for ejaculations so fast they record as futuristic.”

       That did make me laugh. “Keeping up with how fast you’d throw off that little thong if I asked you.”

       “You’d have to beg on your hands and knees over hot coals.”

       “Would you settle for my asking very nicely?”

       She laughed, her eyes slanting further. “Not in this lifetime.”

       “Are you sure?” I lowered my voice a little. “We’ve aired a lot of dirty laundry to a very interested audience.”

       We glanced around to see some people staring and the assistants behind the counter controlling their laughter. She shook her head at me. “You are six foot of grief.”

       “Six foot two,” I corrected her gently, leaning down to brush my mouth carefully over her cheekbone, then trailed my nose lightly over the bridge of hers. She smelled like spicy warm apples and honey. “I’m far more interesting than Rick the Prick.”

       “I’ll take pricks over grief any day,” she tutted, collecting a textbook on torts and taking it to the counter. “Now stop causing a scene and let’s go. I want to shop.”

       I saluted and headed with her to the counter. I took her books and before she could protest, I’d put them all on my credit card. I turned to her with a carrier bag, starting, “You owe me at least three nights’ worth of drinks…”

       Cari handed me a cheque totalling the amount. “Plus two pounds fifty for the cab,” she pointed it out with a manicured finger. “Cheers.” She grinned, leaning up and kissing the corner of my mouth. “Stay out of my way. I am not averse to violence against the genitally challenged.”

       I blew her a mocking kiss as she skipped lightly down the stairs, uncaring of the man who tripped up while staring at her. For the rest of the day I couldn’t seem to shake the silly smile off my face.
May not be your type,
the little voice said knowingly
, but she could be the exception to the rule…