Trust Me (Beggar's Choice #2) (11 page)

I become aware that he’s quietly
leaning against a wall while I look my fill, and I flush, hoping that what I’m
thinking isn’t written on my face. “Not made your bed, lazy?” I say trying for
a lighter moment and he grimaces.

“I had to do that every day at
rehab. Haven’t done it since.” He walks purposefully to a battered, old trunk
at the bottom of the bed and rummages through it, until he exclaims in triumph
and emerges with a very large, squashy parcel and two smaller ones, all wrapped
in bright Christmas wrapping and adorned with ribbons.

“Oh no.” I step back and hold up
my hands. “No Sid, you haven’t bought me something have you? It’s too much.”

“Shut the fuck up!” He draws me
to sit on the bed and thrusts the gifts into my hands. I perch there nervously
and when I inhale I know I was right. I’m saturated in his smell. “Open the
little ones first,” he says enthusiastically, and I can’t help but smile at him
because he looks like a little boy.

“Okay.” I rip off the wrapping.
Inside is a pair of the most beautiful soft, black, leather gloves that I’ve
ever seen. Turning the label over I see the Harvey Nichols tag. “Sid these were
expensive.”

“Shut up,” he says bossily.
“Don’t talk about money to me. They’re so soft and warm inside. Look, they’re
lined with cashmere.” He opens the glove for me to see and I nod faintly. “Now
open the other one.” I pull at the wrapping and out slithers a beautiful black,
chunky knit beanie and scarf, both bearing the Burberry Prosum label I note.
“They’re beautiful,” I say softly and he grins bashfully.

“Your hands are always so cold
honey. I don’t want that anymore, so humour me. Now open the big one.” He’s
clearly nervous now which in turn is making me jittery. What has he bought me
and how much has he bloody spent on me? I slowly pick at the tape and unravel
the ribbon and then give in and rip open the parcel. The wrapping falls open
revealing a flash of teal green suede and I open that out and absolutely lose
my breath. He’s bought me a coat you see and I could cry. It’s a beautiful
single breasted trench coat falling to just below knee length, the colour of an
evergreen tree, with a wide belt to wrap around my waist. I reach out and touch
the fabric, relishing in the sleek feel of the suede and then I see the label.
“Burberry London!” I say in consternation. ”Sid that must have cost a bloody
fortune.”

“No, no,” he says, immediately
trying to forestall me. “I saw it in the shop and I just had to have it. Look
stand up,” and he pulls me up, grabbing the coat and pushing my arms into the
sleeves. He points to an ornate carved, silver mirror by the side of the bed
that takes up most of the wall, the positioning of which earns him a sidelong
look, but then I still as I look at myself. The coat suits me so well, the
fabric clinging to my thin figure lovingly, and the colour making the colour of
my eyes pop and my hair and skin glow. It makes me look like one of the models
you see parading down the catwalk. Sid fastens the belt around my waist and
then stands behind me and stares. “Jesus, I knew it was you but you look
utterly beautiful sweetheart.”

“It’s too much,” I whisper.

“No it isn’t,” he says harshly
“It’s not even nearly enough. You were fucking freezing in that rag Nell and I
won’t have it. I would walk barefoot to stop you being cold. Burberry,” he
flicks my sleeve. “That’s a drop in my ocean. It’s like loose change to me so
don’t make this a big deal.” I brush my hand lovingly down the sleeve, already
planning to sleep with it under my mattress so that Molly doesn’t steal it and
he looks hesitant. “Do you like it?” he asks in a low voice and I whirl around.

“Like it? That doesn’t even
remotely describe it. I adore it. It’s so beautiful, thank you Sid,” and
throwing my arms around him in a tight hug I go to kiss him on the cheek but at
the last moment he turns and almost in slow motion my lips meet his. For a
second that feels so slow it’s like a year, nothing happens, and then he makes
a growling noise in his chest and his lips open and he runs his tongue over my
bottom lip almost as if he’s tasting me. We stay that way for a second and then
I moan and open my mouth and the kiss turns into something that I don’t think
either of us are prepared for. Our mouths move against each other slowly, our
tongues tangling and we can’t stop. I feel his breaths striking my cheek and
his hair brushing silkily against my face, and then his hands come up to cup my
skull firmly and he changes the tempo in a second with a fevered groan. Holding
my head he drinks my sighs and panted breaths as we wildly kiss for what seems
like hours. When we come up for air my mouth feels swollen and sensitive, my
nipples are hard and I’m throbbing so badly I need him to ease it. He stares at
me for a second, our erratic breaths mingling. His eyes are slits now and his
cheekbones have sharp flags of colour along them. I know I should stop this.
This isn’t what either of us should be doing and it will complicate everything,
but then all those thoughts disappear like paper in the wind as his hands move
down caressing my back as he goes in long strokes that make me arch and moan,
until he reaches my bum which he cups and with a forceful pull he settles me
against his massive erection and we both groan, “Fuck Nelly, fuck,” he mutters,
his hot breath striking me.

“I know,” I groan, writhing against
him. I’m far gone now and beyond reason. All I want is that huge cock that I
can feel against me, inside me. I want him over me and inside me, and
accordingly I start to tug at my coat. “Off,” I moan and he frantically obliges
me, tossing it cavalierly onto the bed.

“Fuck,” he gasps. “I want you
naked. I’ve got to be inside you now. I need to fuck you so bad.”

“Yes.” I cry out in relief when
he lifts me so that I can wrap my legs around him, and then he takes the couple
of steps necessary and lowers me to the bed, coming down over the top of me and
settling his weight against me. He hits me in all the right places and I move
against him, wriggling and writhing until he starts to move his hips and grind
against me.

He raises his head. “I wanted to
take this slow Nell. I dreamed about taking hours but I can’t wait. I’ve got to
have you now. I don’t even think I can wait to undress you love.”

“Oh, don’t wait.” I tangle my
fingers in his hair and bring his face down to me for a lush kiss. A distant
part of me is noting that he said he’s dreamed of me but I can’t think straight
anymore. Not with his cock hitting my clit and his tongue in my mouth. He
grunts into my mouth. His hand slips on something on the bed and he swears and
levers up, pushing the offending fabric away from him but at the last minute he
stills and he grabs the fabric of what I see to be my coat, drawing it to him
where he stares at it. “What’s the matter?” I choke, grabbing his hips and
trying to draw him back, but I’m sensing abruptly that this isn’t going to
happen.

“Shit!” he says suddenly, making
me jump. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” and he jumps off me and strides rapidly away to
come to a rest in the centre of the room, his back to me and his hand running
repeatedly over his hair.

“Sid?” I hate the nervousness in
my voice. “What’s the matter?”

He stills and it might be my
imagination but I think that I see his shoulders slump before he turns to me.
All the passion has fled his face and he now just looks tired and a little
bored. “We can’t do this. I’m sorry,” he says abruptly.

“What? Where did that come from?”

“We can’t sleep together. It
wouldn’t be right.” His voice is a monotone.

I’m getting angry now because
it’s almost as if I were forcing the issue when we both know that we had an equal
role in pushing this. “Why wouldn’t it be right?” I ask in a small voice
getting up and forcing the material of my dress down. My fingers are shaking
and seeing that he makes an abrupt movement but stops himself and runs his hand
through his hair again.

“I’m sorry but this just isn’t
happening with you of all people.”

“
What
?” I manage to choke
out because with his words and tone of voice it’s like he just punched me. He
couldn’t have made me feel less, even if he tried.

He shrugs jerkily then he points
at the beautiful coat. “Jesus. I bought you a coat but I’m not fucking you as a
thank you. I can’t do that anymore.”

I can’t understand where this has
blown up from – it’s like falling into an alternative universe. “Wow,” I say
through lips that don’t seem to be working properly, they feel so cold. “You’ve
managed to make me feel like a stalker and a whore all in the space of a few
minutes. Well done.” I pause and then I can’t help letting my pain show and he
moves towards me again, but I put up a hand to stop him. “I’ve had the best of
the best make me feel worthless over the last few years, but somehow I didn’t
expect it from you. Well, now I know better. It’s just another lesson learned,
so thank you. I won’t forget it.”

He hesitates, remorse written all
over his face. “I didn’t mean it like that. It came out the wrong way. You’re
not a whore Nell, never. It just wouldn’t be right Nell - you and me. I don’t
want a relationship honey
at all
. I’m not able to love anyone. I don’t
want that, particularly not with you.”

“It doesn’t matter.” It never
does. He tries to take my hand but I pull clear and this time he doesn’t stop
me. I gather myself. I need to get home. At least at home I can see the blows
coming. Sid’s just wounded me and I didn’t anticipate it.
That’s why it
hurts so much
I tell myself. “I’m going home.”

“What? You can’t,” he says in a
panicked voice. “Please Nell, let’s talk about this.”

I whirl on him. “Let’s not. In
fact let’s not talk about it at all, ever again. We’re on tour together for the
next few months so let’s be professional. I don’t want any awkwardness between
us or I won’t be able to do my job. Can we agree to be civil?”

He stares at me, and then the
turmoil is wiped from his face leaving the hard, distant expression I’ve become
so familiar with. “Suits me,” he says harshly. “Forget about it. We’ll go on as
normal.”

“Fine.” I walk to the door.
“Please say my goodbyes to everyone and make some excuse.”

“You’ll wait,” he snaps in a hard
voice. “There’s no way that you’re walking home. I’ll order you a taxi.”

“Okay,” I say in a dead voice.

“What about your coat?” This is
said in a diffident voice but when I look at him his eyes are burning. My gaze
drops.

“Give it to one of the whores at
Kings Cross. They probably earned it more than me.” I go to pull open the door,
but I’m forestalled when he pulls me back and slams it closed again.

Leaning into me he says in a
cold, hard voice. “I’m going to ignore that fucking comment Nell because you’re
upset, but if you ever call yourself a whore again you and I are going to have
a problem. Do you understand me?” I nod reluctantly. “You are going to take
that coat and you are going to wear it, and if I ever see that fucking rag that
you’ve been wearing again, I’m going to rip it off your tight little body and
cut it up. Do you understand me?”

I stare at him but his face is
impassive. Hating him suddenly I pull free. “I’ll wear it but I just want you
to know that every time I wear it I’m hating it and thinking of the way that
you made me feel tonight.” He winces and it’s like fuel to me. “Anyway, it’ll
make me look good on my next date won’t it?” His sharp intake of breath is my
reward, but later on sitting in the back of the taxi that he paid for, watching
the city flow by, my eye is caught by the bag with my new coat in that he set
inside before we drew off and my eyes fill with tears.

“Alright love?” asks the driver,
looking at me nervously as if I’m going to fall to the floor of the taxi and
have hysterics.

I scrub my eyes. “I will be,” I
say determinedly. “I just need to keep moving.”

Three days later I’m standing in
the coach park of a service station on the M25, waiting for everyone. It’s
freezing and I’m massively early because I was so worried about being late and
holding everybody up. I pace a few steps away from my suitcase trying to keep
warm and mentally run through everything. I have my passport and EHIC card in
my wallet, and I’ve changed some money into euros. More importantly I’ve got my
iPod and my Kindle, their chargers and my set of earplugs. I’ve toured before
and sleeping in bunks amongst a load of blokes that have usually had a shed
load to drink I know I’ll need them to block out the snoring. It’s just a shame
that I can’t block out the smells as well.

I pace back again and the
material of my new coat slapping against my legs makes me pause for a second. I
can’t deny that it’s so much warmer than my old one, and my confidence is
bolstered by the knowledge that I look good in it. However, it’s tainted by
what came after. When I left him on Christmas Day I’d been utterly determined
never to wear it and had even toyed with the idea of giving it to Molly as a
‘fuck you’ gesture, but something soft inside me had utterly rebelled against
this. I couldn’t get the image of his anxious face when he’d given it to me out
of my head. I know in my heart that he had meant this as a nice gesture for my
comfort, and it seems mean to judge him for what came after.

At this thought my hand moves
unconsciously to my pocket for my phone. I’d received the first text message at
midnight on the same night. It had come up as an unknown number but I knew it
was from him before I opened it. The message was simple:

Sid: I’m sorry

I’d ignored it but ten minutes
later another text message had arrived:

Sid: I know it’s clichéd but
it wasn’t you it was me. I’ve had someone sleep with me for a lot less than a
Burberry coat. I just had a flashback and automatically reverted to being an
arsehole. I know you’re not a whore and it was unforgivable of me if I made you
feel like one

I’d brooded over this for a long
while because I had a sneaky suspicion that the
someone
he mentioned was
Leah, and if so why did he still take her calls and speak to her? Why did he
worry over her and think about her? Unable to come to any conclusions I’d put
the phone away and by the next morning he’d obviously got the message, or so I
thought until this morning when another two messages had been waiting for me:

Sid: You’d better be wearing
that coat Nell, because so help me if you aren’t I will put it on you myself
and it will be in a public place. I’m sure you remember what happened last time
we were in a private place, just you, me and the coat, so if you don’t want a
repeat make sure that you’re wearing that fucker

Sid: And the hat, scarf and
gloves

Bastard
I think, shoving
the phone away and becoming aware that two huge coaches are pulling up. A man
alights from one and walks towards me with his hand outstretched.

“Nell Slater?” he asks.

“Yes.” I take his warm, firm hand
and shake it.

“Scott Peters. I’m the tour
manager.”

“Oh wow I thought Bill was doing
that.” I like his open smiling face and bright ginger hair, but to be honest he
could look like Shrek and he’d still be an improvement over Sourpuss Bill.

“He was but Sid decided to do
things differently and voila!” He spreads out his hands in explanation.

“How did he manage to get you on
such short notice?” I ask but his reply is cut short by a cold voice from
behind him. I suppose when you think of the devil he’s supposed to materialize
and here he is - Bill.

“The driver wants you Scott,” he
says coldly, running his eyes over me expressionlessly.

“Oh, okay, do you want to come
with me Nell and I’ll show you around?”

“No need Scott I’ll do it,” Bill
purrs.

Scott smiles awkwardly and dashes
off back to the bus while I pull my gaze back to Bill. “Nice to see you again,”
I say insincerely, and he smiles.

“Of course. Well let me show you
to your quarters Miss Slater.” He waits, staring into the distance while I
manhandle my unwieldy suitcase and bags and makes no attempt to help me. When
I’ve got everything together he gestures to the buses. “You’ll be on the second
bus Miss Slater with the staff and security,” he intones, and at my look of
surprise he smiles. “Why, don’t tell me that you expected to be on the band’s
bus?”

“No, of course not,” I say
hurriedly, but I’m lying because a part of me did expect just that, I suppose
because in my short acquaintance with them I’ve always been treated as one of
them. However, I’m not and Bill is obviously revelling in this chance to
reinforce that with me. I won’t let him see that I’m thrown so I smile. “Lead
on then Bill,” I say cheerily, using his name to piss him off.

His smile twists and he gestures
to the second bus and pats it. “I’ll let you pick your bunk.” I smile and go to
walk past him and then gasp as he grabs my arm. He’s not hurting me but it’s
still a tight and unexpected grip. “Be careful Miss Slater,” he whispers. “I’ve
got my eye on you.”

“Only one?” I gasp.

“Very funny. Quite a comedienne.
It must be your good sense of humour that’s snared Sid Hudson’s attention,
because it’s quite obviously not your looks.” I gasp in outrage but he carries
on talking, quickly now, because out of the corner of my eye I can see Scott
approaching. “Just remember Miss Slater, the man’s an addict. He may have come
out of rehab but he’ll end up back there time and time again. Don’t get
involved - leave him to the more experienced of his old friends.”

“Like Leah?” I ask furiously and
he smirks.

“Oh, that’s so sweet, you’re
protective already. Don’t bother, because I’ve seen hundreds like you. They
choke up the bus with their demands and cheap perfume, and then they’re gone
just as soon as they’ve opened their legs. You’re exactly the same as them,
just on a contract, and that’s the only difference. Once the contract’s done
he’ll get rid of you because you are all utterly disposable to him. The only
things that have ever mattered to him are Leah and coke, and I’m not quite sure
which order of importance he’d put
them
in. Your importance to him can
be assessed by the fact that it was Sid who insisted that you be on this bus.”

I try but I don’t manage to
conceal my wince of pain, and he smiles opening his mouth to carry on his
attack, but he’s interrupted by a throat clearing and we turn to see Scott
standing next to us looking awkward because he’s obviously interrupting
something. “Shall I take over now Bill?” he asks brightly.

“Yes, of course. I think Miss
Slater and I are finished for now.” He lets go of my arm and brushes his suit
jacket down. “Remember what I said Miss Slater.” Then he pauses. “You really do
look very familiar to me.” I don’t think that I manage to cover up my alarm
because interest flares in his eyes. “Hmm,” he says. “I’ll see you soon I think,”
and then he heads over to the band’s bus.

We stand for a second until Scott
stirs. “Bit of a funny one isn’t he?”

I laugh but it’s strained. “You
can say that again. I keep thinking that he should announce his entrances and
exits with a bang and a cloud of smoke.”

“Yes, and one of those mad
villain laughs.” We look at each other and laugh. “Come on,” he says. “I’ll
show you around.” He dutifully shows me over the huge bus which is decorated in
black and silver. There’s a seating area and a little kitchenette with a
microwave, but the majority of the room is taken up with bunks, all in their
little curtained alcoves and interspersed with cupboard space. He points to the
end bunk. “I’d probably take this one as you’ve got first pick. It’s past the
toilet so you won’t be woken up by men stumbling to the loo every five minutes,
and you won’t have people walking by all the time.”

“This is the one then.” I sling
my bag onto the bunk.

He hesitates. “I’d let you have the
back bedroom but I’ve had to set it up as an office. You can leave your bag in
the corridor down the side of it and take that wardrobe space next to your
bunk. The lads in here will live out of their cases. I’ve never known anyone on
this bus to hang clothes up.”

“Thanks and this is fine don’t
worry,” I smile.

“To be honest I’d presumed you’d
be travelling with the boys because Adam is, but Bill was very insistent.” He
shrugs, a little embarrassed.

“Don’t worry.” I wish that I
could smash Bill’s head in with my suitcase, but it’s not Scott’s fault so I
smile. With that he takes his leave to sort something out, and I throw myself
onto my bunk and draw the little curtain along looking at what will be my home
for the next few months. It’s cosy with a little shelf running along the bottom
to keep my stuff on, and to be honest anywhere away from my mum and Molly is a
palace. I think it might be a hidden blessing to be away from Sid too because
as much as I’m attracted to him, Bill is right. I’m disposable to him and I
can’t be that because I’m disposable to everyone else in my life. I just want
someone to whom I matter. Dismissing the depressing thoughts I swing my legs
off the bunk and start unpacking.

Sid

Charlie and I pull up to the bus
to find Bram outside slumped against the side smoking. “You’re late,” he says
without much passion.

“Yeah, well you try separating
Charlie and Mabe. It was like Romeo and Juliet. Although without the stabbing
and poison,” I add as an afterthought.

“Fuck off,” Charlie says in a
surly voice, and boards the bus with us following him.

“Okay,” I shout after him.
“You’ve talked me round. We’ll keep the poisoning!”

Bram laughs. “Yeah, don’t eat
your fucking cornflakes.” A raised middle finger is our only answer. On board I
greet Seth and Adam with hugs and back slaps and then groan loudly as I see
Bill talking to Charlie.

“What the fuck is he doing here?”
I snarl at Seth.

“Calm down,” he says, ever the
peace maker, and then directs a curious look at me. “What’s up with you?” he
mutters. “You’ve been in a foul mood since Christmas.”

I rotate my shoulders in
discomfort. “I’m alright. I just hate Christmas.”

“Okay.” He clearly doesn’t
believe me and why would he? I love Christmas. I look around trying like fuck
to look casual.

“No Nell yet?” I ask and he
chuckles because the bastard can see right through me.

“Not yet,” he replies but I
already know it. I don’t know what it is about her but the air seems to change
when she’s around and I always know when she’s there. Mind you the way she looked
at me on Christmas Day I think I’d know she was nearby because she’d be
sticking a fucking knife in my back. I know that I’ve been in a fucker of a
mood the last few days, but I’ve wanted to reach back and kick my own arse
every time I think of that look on her face that I alone put there. I’m a
complete twat because I know that there’s something wrong at home. I know she’s
not happy. I know she’s too thin and cold all the time, and all I’ve wanted to
do since I’ve met her is to make things better. This impulse bewilders me
because I thought I’d lost it in the bedroom of my old home on a night eighteen
months ago. The fact that it’s back disturbs me enormously. I don’t have the
room in my life or the inclination to be in a relationship and I’ve tried to
keep my distance, but the thought that I had left her feeling like a whore guts
me. I’d just put my hand on the coat and it had flung me straight back to
multiple encounters with Leah over the years, and all the blow jobs and shags
I’d had so that she could thank me for new clothes and shoes at first, and then
baggies of coke later.

I scrub my hands over my face
wishing that I could erase the memories of Leah, and almost as if my wish has
been granted I remember doing this on Christmas Day when Nell had gone and I
could smell the scent of her hair on my hands. I have a flashback to the feel
of her in my hands, all supple strength and energy. It had been like touching a
live wire and I’d thought I’d burn if I didn’t get inside her. Embarrassingly
I’d jacked myself off later lying with my head thrust into sheets that smelt of
her. Suddenly all I want to do is see her, fuck the distance, and I turn to
Charlie. “We’ll get going when Nell gets here,” I say, abruptly breaking into
his conversation with Bill who promptly smiles pityingly like he’s dealing with
a small child, and my fists clench.

Seeing that Charlie breaks in.
“Where is she? Has anyone seen her?”

“Miss Slater is here already,”
Bill purrs, smiling at me. “She was actually the first to arrive.”

“Where is she then?” I ask,
puzzled.

“On the other bus.”

“Why?” I ask in a harsh voice.
“Why is she on a bus with a load of strange men? She should be on here with
us.”

“Yes, another load of strange
men,” Bram mutters and then holds his hands up when I glare at him. I gesture
to Bill to walk with me, all the time fantasising about frogmarching him to the
front of the bus and kicking him straight out of the door with my foot up his
arse.

“You can go and fetch her Bill,”
I grit out. “Make your apologies for putting her on the wrong bus, and when
she’s here you can go and we can set off.”

He smiles in an embarrassed way
and leans towards me. “I’m afraid it was Miss Slater’s choice to be on that
bus,” he whispers and I jerk.

“Why?” I ask, and I know it’s
fucking plaintive but I can’t help it.

“I don’t know. She just said that
she thought it would be more comfortable.”

I stare at him for a long minute,
my brain stumbling and jerking.
She doesn’t want to be with me. I’ve fucked
everything up
. Then I force myself to harden up.

“Anything else?” he asks.