Taming the Bad Girl (3 page)

“Alright, calm down,” he said, grinning at me.
“How about you let me buy you a drink?”

“And why would I let you do that?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Why else would you be here? A
drink, a little company….”

“A drink, yes,” I said. “Company, no.”

“You’re
gonna
drink on
your own?” he asked. “Why bother coming out at all?”

Why indeed? I wondered what my admirer would say
if I told him the only reason I was in the bar was because I couldn’t bear to
go home.
To the quiet, the constant quiet.
The hours
and hours of it…. That to my mind it made much more sense to
drink
here than popping open bottle after bottle of wine in the comfort of my own
apartment. At least here I’d know when to stop, well, mostly.

“One drink?” the man asked.

 
“Not
gonna
happen. Let me pass.”

“You sure?”

“Didn’t I just say so?” I pushed past him,
wondering as I did so why the hell he was even bothering to try it on. It was
not like I’d troubled to dress up. I’d come straight from the office and was
looking distinctly wrinkled. I’d thought about going home and getting into my
sweats and a vest but being alone with my thoughts all evening was more than I
could bear. I couldn’t face it yet, not even for the draw of comfortable
clothes.

I almost laughed as I imagined striding past
these men in my ratty joggers. Doubtful they’d be trying to grab me then. The
feeling faded as another man veered in front of me, drink in hand. I sighed. It
was the hair and the fact I was so petite. I’d long suspected as much. Blonde
hair, tiny frame and the rest of me could look like a dog’s dinner and still
the men would come running.
Pretty pathetic really.

I pushed past him too, ignoring his offering,
and elbowed my way to the front of the bar. The bar tender shot me a smile and
asked what I wanted. If this had been my usual bar she’d have known, but I’d
been avoiding those haunts lately. I didn’t want to mix with the men I’d
bedded. Pathetic I knew, but facing up to my mistakes was something I’d never
been very good at, and walking into a bar knowing I’d fucked a good number of
the patrons made me shudder. I didn’t like to be reminded of the fact that over
the last few months I’d acted like a complete whore. I never saw myself like
that, because it wasn’t me. It had
never
been me, not before Giles at least. Up till then I’d slept with a grand total
of one other man, my first boyfriend, the one I’d pledged myself to from the
ages of thirteen to nineteen. It was only after fuck number two, aka
Giles, that
I’d spiraled out of control.

I paid the bartender for the drink and let my
gaze wander across the room. It was so packed I had trouble making out anyone I
knew, which again was a relief. It was weird really how quickly the numbers
could start adding up. A man every month for four months was bad enough, but a
man every couple of weeks soon screamed slut….

A woman to the right of me jostled my elbow,
making a little of my drink spill. She mouthed a sorry and I smiled back.
Something about her was familiar but I couldn’t place what exactly.
Maybe the eyes?
I knew I hadn’t fucked her. I hadn’t even
started on the women yet. That thought was enough to make my smile widen and I
turned back to the bar, elbows resting on it. Maybe I should start batting for
the other team? After all I was completely ruined for men—for the foreseeable
future at least.

I sighed and took a long swig of my drink. It
wasn’t like I hadn’t tried to make myself like them.
To call
one up after a night in bed.
God knew I had.
Anything
to make my heart stop aching and push away the crippling sadness that seemed to
be rearing its head more and more lately.
But it never worked. In
reality I didn’t want any of them. I wanted one man and one man only.

The image of him standing in my office fizzed
through my mind and I finished my drink in one, grimacing as the alcohol hit my
chest. It warmed me a little and I felt like crying. How fucking pathetic was
I? How many more months
was
I going to act like this?
When the hell was I going to sort myself out?

The tears pricked and I shook my head, trying to
make them stop. It seemed that coming to the bar wasn’t such a
fab
idea after all. Trouble was it wasn’t like I had
anywhere else to go.

Chapter Four

Giles: Why? Just tell me fucking why?

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
No, more that I didn’t want to believe it.
Here, of all
places? How, after avoiding her successfully for all these months, was she now
firmly on my radar again? Were the fates intentionally fucking with me?

“Giles?”

“Huh?”

“Are you listening?”

I dragged my gaze away from Lucy to meet my sister
Penelope’s enquiring look.
“What, yeah, of course.”

She shook her head. “No you weren’t you were
eyeing the blonde at the bar.”

I gulped, struck by the accuracy of that. Of
course I was eyeing her. I seemed to spend my entire life eyeing Lucy, either
physically—from a distance—or mentally, replaying our time together over and
over in my mind. My body stirred and I had to grit my teeth to keep it under
control. I was pitiable, or as Pen would say, needed to grow a pair. “I was
not.”

“Liar.”

I shrugged. “Well, yes, okay I was. But I do
actually know her.”

“Really?”
Pen asked. “Well, maybe you should go see if she’s okay. She’s not
looking too good.”

I swallowed dryly and gazed back at Lucy. Pen
was right, she was
not
looking good.
Not at all.
Stood at the bar in the same clothes she’d had
on when we’d had out meeting earlier, she looked frazzled and wrinkled. I’d
managed to get home, shower and change before meeting my sister for our weekly
catch up. Lucy must have worked late to not have bothered. Either that or she
was on bar number whatever. I suspected I knew which was more probable.

“How?”

Pen’s soft tones interrupted my thoughts.
“How what?”

“How do you know her?”

I shifted in my chair. Pen and I were very
close, all our family were, but our other sister lived in England, as did our
parents, so we spent more time together than maybe we would have if there was
other family about.
Just a year younger than me we’d gotten
into all sorts of scrapes when we were younger, especially as she’d been a
tomboy.
We spoke most every day and met up a couple of times a week for
dinner or drinks.

She knew all about Lucy because three days after
that night, that God damn night, I’d headed off for my annual three week
vacation to
England
,
Pen in tow. The flight was a long one and she’d soon wormed everything out of
me—mainly because I’d gotten steadily drunk on British Airways’ whisky. Once
she’d gotten the whole story she’d been outraged at the treatment of her
brother. Pen had wanted to confront Lucy—despite the fact by then we were
thousands of miles away. I’d managed to talk her out of it, but she knew how
badly I’d been affected by our night. She just seemed to know. I hadn’t even
had to tell her that it wasn’t just about the fucking night! Hadn’t I already
been well on my way to falling in love with Lucy long before then, damn it? Why
else would I have been so torn up?

“Earth to Giles….”

I nudged my fork and took a deep breath. I
didn’t want to tell Pen it was Lucy, but she’d get it out of me soon enough so
it was easier to just fess up. “It’s her.”

Pen gasped—knowing immediately what I meant.
“Her,
her.
”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my God.”
Pen forked a fry off my plate and popped it into her mouth. “Well,
first thoughts, and there must be first thoughts so I don’t go over there and
have words. She’s prettier than you made her sound.”

I started. “I made her sound ugly?”

Pen ate another one of my fries. “I’m eating
these to keep my attention away from the bitch that broke your heart so don’t
moan.”
 
She pulled my plate across so it
sat on hers, which was empty. “And to answer your question, no, you made her
seem hard.
Brittle.
Like a bitch, I guess, and you
never think of them as pretty do you?”

“She is hard. She is brittle,” I insisted, “and
you just ate an entire plate full of salad because you couldn’t have
carbs
apparently. Why are you eating mine? You do this
every time.”

Pen nodded her agreement. “Yes so why moan? You
should order more because you expect it. Anyway she’s not now.”

“Who’s not?”

“The bitch
who
broke
your heart. She doesn’t look hard now, not at all.”

I gazed back at Lucy and frowned. Pen was right.
Right now Lucy did not look hard, she looked…sad. I watched carefully as one of
the men next to her said something and pointed to her drink. Lucy peered down
at the empty glass before shaking her head. She frowned, pushed the glass aside
and dropped her head into her hands. Yes, she looked sad, and that made me
feel…just as bad.

“Go talk to her,” Pen said.

I frowned. “No chance.”

“Because?”

Was she really asking me that? I shook my head
and frowned. “You know why. Didn’t I tell you in detail, mainly because I had
no choice? And didn’t you tell me never to go near the sneaky bitch again—your
words.”

Pen sighed and picked up my drink. “Giles, do
you want me to be honest?”

“No. I never want you to be honest, it’s
painful. I wish I’d never told you about her.”

She rolled her eyes.
“Liar.”

 
“Serious,
Pen, don’t start this again.”

Pen forked up the last fry and swallowed it
down. “Well I will because you need to hear it.”

I could have groaned. “And what exactly do I
need to hear?”

“You slept with her once,” Pen said, stating the
obvious.

“Yes.”

“And after that nothing.
You didn’t really give it a go at all.”

I started and shot her an incredulous look. “You
know why. Fucking hell, Pen, did I not explain it?”

“Yes,” she agreed, “but it looks like she’s not
doing any better than you.”

“I’m doing just fine, thanks.”

“No, you’re not. You’re in a state. You know it
and I know it.” She reached out and placed her hand across mine. “If anything you
should just clear the air. You can’t move on until you’ve got some sort of
resolution. You need to talk to her about what happened. Get some sort of
closure. We were in
England
for three weeks after it happened and then you came back and Lucy was in, well,
wherever the hell she went, so nearly a month and a half passed before you saw
her again, and you just ignored her.”

I glared. “Of course I did. What else was I
going to do? And you sound like an American.
Closure?
Really?”

“Well, we’ve been here long enough for me to
pick up the lingo.”

I looked at Lucy again, my heart throbbing in a
strange fashion. She looked so lost. Why the hell had she
come
to a bar if all she was going to do was stand there with an empty glass and
glare at people? Why wasn’t she at home? What was she doing? And why the hell
did I care, damn it!

“Oh, that’s my phone,” Pen said, interrupting my
thoughts. “I
gotta
go.”

“What? You dragged me out because your date
dumped you.”

Pen flashed me a smile and gathered her bag.
“Well, yes…but
ummm
….”

“But?”

Pen laughed and grabbed her bag. “I’ll leave you
to settle the bill. You need to go to the bar btw.”

I glared. “Why are you doing this? Weren’t you
the one who called her the bitch who broke my heart? Didn’t you tell me never
to go near her again?
To get some self-respect?”

Pen nodded. “Yeah, I did, but I didn’t expect
four months later for you to still be moping around. This is for your own good.
You can’t move on until you sort this out. So go. Get some fucking resolution
already.
”

Chapter Five

Lucy: You sleep around you’re
gonna
bump
into them. That’s just the way it goes. Sex boomerangs.