Sympathy for the Devil (7 page)

       Cari had it in for me, I realised when she sent me a dismissive look that should have made my balls shrivel up and fall off, then turned her smooth, bare back on me, her hair swinging in defiance. I wasn’t surprised at the popping eyes of the blokes standing around, all vying for her short-lived attention. I made my way to the bar, ignoring the knot in my stomach. I caught her squeal of, “My tune!”

       It was David Guetta, so she climbed like a prowling little cat onto the nearest table and began to dance as if she were in a Miami club needing to show off her Latin moves. Her feet were flying and her hips nearly vibrating they were shaking so fast. Her hands smoothed up and down her body, a siren to the guys who stared at her as if they were in a strip club and she was about to take her clothes off. I drained my Stella in one go.

      
Slag
, I thought disgustedly. One of her male friends, obviously as camp as a row of tents, got up and danced with her. They were practically dry humping to the beat until Cari burst out laughing and hugged him. The bouncer finally came over and told them to get down. Cari held out her arms and the bouncer lifted her down.

       I ignored the conversation that was going on around me and ordered a shot of sambuca.
Why does she hate me so much
? I thought with searing fury. What the fuck had I done to her? The only person who had cause to hate me was Miss Antonia. Bradley but she wasn’t stupid enough to tell Cari about my vocalised suspicions.

      
Cari’s not your type
, my brain told me stoically.
Challenging…
my dick reminded me. Which was something I enjoyed more. Maybe I could make her like me. Women didn’t have a problem liking me. She hugged someone else, and as the music was in a lull she practically screamed, “Yay! I’m so glad you turned up. Now I’m not token black girl.”

       I grinned, and I started to move towards her to at least see what if anything was holding that scrap of material to her breasts, when a friend of Fiona Gray’s tugged at my arm. Fiona. Fiona. I swear to God, all of five minutes after sex she had asked me if we should think about moving in together.

       “Do you want to dance?” Her friend batted over-mascaraed eyes at me.

       I removed her hand delicately. Stupid cow obviously had no idea the shirt had been handmade for me in Milan. “No,” I told her. “I’ve got a drink.”

       “Well, take it with you,” she insisted, putting her hand right back.

       “Be a good girl, darling, and fuck off,” I said, sending her off with a firm shove to her back. I looked around for Cari and saw her dancing again. What was she doing? Auditioning? Normal people did not dance like that outside music videos. The ones where the girls are wearing… well, about as much as Cari was wearing. I tutted aloud in irritation. If I wanted her, I’d have fucked her a long time ago.

       Toni walked into the bar, having squeezed herself and her generous bosom into a dress that corseted her body, her eyes slanted by dark liner. I half wondered where West was, then realised I had the perfect opportunity to realign my character. I gave one last look in Cari’s direction, who was dancing with the birthday girl, then put her out of my mind.

       West was on the other side of town with his mates celebrating Manchester United’s success in the day’s game, so I thought I could go out to celebrate too. Kate and I were on the same course and she was such a sweet girl. I was rather touched that she’d invited me to her birthday. At the bar, I found Kate and was enveloped in a Gucci-scented hug and handed her a little card and gift bag from Neal’s Yard. She loved all those little aromatherapy potions and lotions so I’d bought her a few.

       She kissed me in thanks and linked arms with me to take me to the bar. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she yelled over the music. “I thought no one would come since it’s midweek.”

       “I wouldn’t miss your birthday!” I answered honestly. “Do you want a drink?”

       “Of course!” I bought us both a Cosmopolitan each and we were just toasting to her when Pierce came over and kissed Kate hello. My stomach dissolved in complete fear and I started looking for all the exits, and worse, for West to storm in and scream, “Who the fuck is Ben?”

       “When did you get here?” Kate gasped, and squealed in joy as he gave her a gift bag, the Selfridges patent yellow unmistakable.

       “Just now.” His eyes slid to mine and I thought I was going to die in horror. I thought Kate could see in my face that I was desperate to not be anywhere near him.

       He leaned over and kissed the corner of my mouth. The touch of his lips branded me. I was going to be sick. “Hello, Toni,” he said neutrally.

       “’Lo,” I muttered.

       Kate gave another squeal as she extracted a huge hamper full of beauty goods. Her boyfriend Sam came over with a few of his mates and left Pierce and me alone.

       “Where’s West tonight?” he asked, his fingers encircling my iron grip on my martini glass to lift and take a cheeky sip from the glass. Even his hands were cold.

       “Out. With friends,” I said shortly.

       “Shame. Think he’s getting bored of you already?”

       I snatched my hand back, ignoring that I poured half the drink over my dress. “He’s gone out with his real friends. We’re not joined at the hip.”

       Pierce lifted his brows. “Not what he told me.”

       “What?”

       His eyelashes started a tornado, they were so long. “It wasn’t really an invitation for you to trap my mate between your thighs.”

       “I’ve told you. Nothing is going on between me and Ben. Not anymore. Not when I haven’t laid eyes on him for months. There’s nothing for you to tell, so stop pushing me.”

       He smirked. “Toni. Dear, empty-headed Toni. I haven’t even started.”

       The blood evaporated from my face and I pushed past him, abandoning the Cosmo at the bar, and almost ran into Cari.

       “What up, baby!” she said excitedly. “You look freakin’ hot. Where’s West?”

       “Celebrating Man U’s win,” I told her, trying to keep the shake out of my voice. But being close to her made me feel protected.

       “Fuck! Did Real Madrid lose?” She looked furious. “I need a drink!”

       “Can we not?” I begged. She looked over my shoulder.

       “Who’s upset you?”

       Cari would more than likely start a fist fight and get chucked out the bar if I even began to tell her. “No, I just, I…love this song.” I linked arms with her and with a worried glance over my shoulder I saw Pierce lift my glass to me in a mocking salute. I looked away and was determined he wouldn’t upset me anymore. I had to stop playing the victim. There was nothing to tell. And West and I were perfect. So very, very perfect.

The bar closed at one, but Kate was determined for the drunken fun to continue. A twinge in my lower body told me I’d drunk more than enough, but my head was not convinced. We all congregated outside. People on their phones, others making their way to the bus stop, those with money taking mini cabs or taxis. If I wanted to carry on I’d probably not have enough money to get home without a night bus. Shudder. Kate looked at me in desperation at the mass exodus of her guests.

       “You want to go to the club, don’t you? Just for a little bit?”

       I opened my mouth but Kate rode roughshod over any protestations. “I’m paying. I owe you for the last time.”

       “Don’t be silly, it’s your birthday.”

       “Which means I have money. Come on.” She sent me her trademark grin which transformed her from a pretty girl to a beautiful one. “You know you want to…”

       “All right,” I agreed. I looked to Toni, who had slung her coat around her shoulders, and a group of men walked by and each of them stared heavily at her corseted boobs before nearly falling off the curb. She was on her mobile, but she held it away from her and mouthed, “West is pissed!” She put the phone back to her ear. “No, I’m going home now, honey. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

       She cut the call and looked at me expectantly.

       “You can’t go home!” I raged.

       “I’ve got a nine-thirty lecture tomorrow,” Toni explained. “Text me to let me know you got home safe?”

       I belligerently allowed her to kiss me before she hailed a taxi with a Londoner’s ease and hopped in. I watched her drive off and felt in the pit of my stomach that I should have gone home too. Kate linked her arm through mine, and her other through Sam’s and chatted away like only the drunk could. I looked around to see who else was coming with us and saw there were about ten other people, amongst whom, with a blonde hanging off his arm, was Pierce. I fumed inwardly. That bastard was definitely stalking me.

       For the rest of the night I did my best to ignore him, even going so far as to pay for the taxi we took to Kings Cross, which left me determinedly broke until I got paid on Friday from my part-time job in Office. The money in my savings account paid for my rent and could not be hacked into without a week’s notice. Dammit all to hell and back.

       I used my last few pounds to buy myself a bottle of mineral water, half of which went to Kate, who threw up in the toilets. The party was definitely over as far as Sam was concerned.

       “How are you getting home?” he asked me as he tucked Kate into her coat. “Cab?”

       “Er…Barclays says no.” I laughed. “I’ll night bus it.”

       “You can stay with us,” he offered. “The couple we share with have gone back home for the week. You can have their room for the night.”

       Infinitely a better option than scary tramp on the night bus. “Cheers,” I breathed in relief, kissing him on the cheek.

       Kate beamed at me, still wobbly with drink. “You’re so pretty,” she slurred. “Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”

       “I was vaccinated last year,” I quipped, holding onto Kate as Sam went outside to get us a cab. Pierce came over and Kate deposited her weight onto him. “You staying on?”

       “No,” he said, then laughed as she snuggled up against him like he was her new cuddly toy. “I’ve misplaced my house keys, and my next-door neighbour is visiting her daughter.”

       “Oh, honey!” Kate simpered. “You must stay at ours. The Philips have buggered off back to Bristol. You can have their bed.”

      
Wait, what?
Sam came back and said, “Quick, before someone else gets it.”

       He took Kate off Pierce and hustled her outside. As we both followed them outside, I said to Pierce suddenly, “Why don’t we drop you at some swish hotel where you can stay the night and call a locksmith in the morning?”

       “Why would I do that when it’s more convenient to stay with Kate and Sam?”

       Hold on a minute. “I thought you said you didn’t need anyone for anything?”

       “You changed my mind with your ear-wrenching speech. Now what’s your patent problem?”

       “Because, you arsehole,” I hissed, “that room is mine! Sam offered it to me first.”

       He gestured for me to get into the cab before him, then he sat on the pull seat opposite me. “Let’s not be petty.”

       “Petty about what?” Kate asked on a big yawn.

       “Nothing important, right, Cari?” Pierce said without moving his gaze from my face. Oh, to just sucker punch the twat right in the face...

       “Pierce is staying with us,” Kate muttered against Sam’s coat before promptly passing out.

       Sam looked between myself and Pierce. “Sorry,” he addressed Pierce. “I told Cari before she could have the room. If you’re really stuck… can you and Cari sort something out?”

      
Sam!
I thought in horror.
He could do me some real damage and you think I should share a room with him?
I wish I could have said,
Absolutely not, he’s a proper cunt.
It wasn’t my room to say no to.

       “We can sort it,” I said, slapping a grin on my face so fake it competed with Pierce’s tan. I mean, it was mid-March for goodness’ sake and freezing cold. I hadn’t seen the sun in so long I needed pictures to remind me.

       The cab made its ten-minute journey to Kate and Sam’s in six. I curbed a twinge of guilt as Pierce paid for the cab. I’d rather eat scorpions than owe that demon twat anything. Sam and I helped Kate out of the cab while Pierce opened the door, all her presents in hand.

       “You’ll have to watch out,” Sam murmured as he put the presents in their room. “The post graduate has the room right next to your own, and if there’s even the slightest hint of noise, she’ll call the landlord and have us all blacklisted.”

      
Oh, this night just gets better and better
, I thought in disgust. Then came a painful ache that encircled my lower body, and I realised the night had reached its pinnacle. Damn alcohol and its numbing effect. Now that I was sobering up, I was surfing a crimson wave. Being a woman fucking sucks donkey balls. I searched hopelessly through my clutch bag for a tampon and was denied hard. I looked up to see that Sam and Kate had disappeared into their room. She was paralytic, and there was no way I was asking Sam to pass me a Tampax. He would die of embarrassment. So would I.

       Pierce was already leaping lightly up the stairs whilst I hit every creaky board. He sent me a glance of exasperation and held the door open for me. The room was dominated by the king size bed, crammed against the corner. There was an empty desk on which sat a lone, green library lamp. The only good thing was the en suite bathroom. “You can sleep on the floor,” I offered.

       “An experienced girl like you can’t share a bed platonically?” he asked, shrugging off his coat.

       “You should be more concerned about your life expectancy if you come anywhere near me,” I hissed.

       He sighed. “Again the idea that I would want to touch you. You should check that vanity at the door.”

       Seething with fury, I stormed into the bathroom. It didn’t help that I had to close the door quietly. I couldn’t even vent my anger at him properly. The Philips were an organised bunch, but obviously Mrs. Philips was on as well and had taken every last towel or tampon available. I’d have to make do somehow. I nicked a pair of Mrs. Philips’ big knickers and made her a mental promise to buy her a replacement. God, what were these people, Scientologists? There wasn’t even paracetamol in their cabinet.

       I went back into the bedroom and shimmied out of my top and jeans, then struggled into a T-shirt. Since I was ripping through this poor woman’s stuff, I might as well borrow her face wash and cream. I looked in the mirror and realised I’d just rubbed mascara under my eyes. Great. I was Russell sodding Brand.

       Pierce was already in bed when I was finally ready. I turned off the light and got into bed. For such a cold man his body was like a radiator; the bed was toasty warm. I cursed the fact that he hadn’t even the decency to ask what side of the bed I preferred.

       My mother had always told me to measure a man by the way he treated a woman when she was on her period. My mother’s a smart chick.

       “What is the matter with you?” Pierce growled as I shifted in pain for the tenth time in half an hour. Damned if I was asking him for help.

       “I’m on my period,” I informed him through gritted teeth.

       “Why the hell didn’t you say so?” he snapped with impatience, leaping over me.

       “Hold on, what about Mrs. T?” I said feebly.

       “Fuck her,” he said calmly, leaving the room. He returned moments later with lavender oil, towels, tampons, Nurofen, and a small bottle of Coke. Full-fat Coke, and not that diet bullshit.

       “Kate says sorry she didn’t let you go home after the bar. She’s bringing up a hot water bottle for you. Nothing like a mini drama to sober a girl up.” He laid everything carefully on my lap. “Here. I didn’t know what you’d prefer.”

       I was shocked. He wasn’t blushing, he wasn’t shuffling from foot to foot, he just looked a bit tired.

       “Oil?” I queried.

       He gave a shrug. “I’ll rub your back if it’s giving you grief,” he offered carelessly.

       “Thanks,” I mumbled. I picked up the bottle of Coke and chugged down three tablets. I was infinitely relieved when Kate exchanged the hot water bottle for a kiss from Pierce.

       She popped her head around the door. “You let me know if you need anything else at all, all right, honey?”

       I nodded and she blew me a goodnight kiss and vanished to her own room. I got up and went to the bathroom to deal with the tampon/towel issue. I gingerly padded back into the room. Bloody drugs, work sodding faster! I clearly needed morphine.

       Pierce patted the bed and said, “Lie on the bottle and I’ll give you that massage. Where does it hurt more?”

       “Front,” I muttered. He was being disgustingly nice. It had the effect of cutting the fuse of my temper even shorter. I lay on the bed, hot water bottle at my back, and my T-shirt hiked to beneath my breasts at Pierce’s insistence. With warm, oiled hands, he pressed his fingers in clever succession over my cramping muscles. The pain abated enough for me to feel enormously tired. My eyes would drift close every so often. This was so nice…The mountain of gossip I would face tomorrow didn’t matter even nearly as much as Pierce continuing his work.

       “You’ve got amazing skin,” he told me quietly.

       “How d’you mean?” I asked sleepily.

       “It’s smooth and so soft. And it’s this beautiful colour.”

       I cracked open an eyelid. That got me. The smooth soft bit —whatever. Done before by many a well-oiled player with at least seven inches coming my way. But not a single one had ever commented on my colour before. I saw why he was making comparisons. His fingers, the golden tint of the caramel on Butterkist popcorn, were vivid white against the skin of my tummy. His tan was real. I could see where his watch had been.

       “Nicely done,” I told him, rather like a typical, horse-loving toff.

       I blamed my private school upbringing. Pierce leaned down, his lashes like dark feathers on his cheeks, and he pressed his lips to the swollen flesh below my navel. If I hadn’t been so damn tired, it would have made me sit right up. It felt a million times better than the massage. His lashes flicked up and our gazes locked. We stared at each other for what seemed like hours. His eyes didn’t seem so frosty. More like summer’s-day clear. He was figuring how he could turn this into sex, I realised. I wondered if I would have to knock him out with the bedside lamp. I was far too tired for this, anyway. If he tried, he’d be shagging a coma patient.