Perfectly Obsessed

by Ellie R. Hunter

  Two weeks after the fire and no patience left watching Marg and William playing happy couples a flat became available for rent in the building Stan rents in.

  I wasn’t too happy to be living so close to him but he thought it was the best thing to ever happen. He said it would be easier to keep an eye on me and that Drake wouldn’t be as pissed when he got out and found me living elsewhere. To be honest, the flat is a lot bigger and nicer than Drake’s old place too. After hours of cleaning every surface in the one-bedroom flat and a lick of paint Stan begrudgingly helped with, it feels more like a home now. A home for Drake to come out to.

  “Do you like it?” Marg asks, watching me still looking at the pendent.

  “I love it. Can you help me put it on, please?”

  She takes the box from me and I pull my hair away from my neck. The gold is cold against my skin for a minute before it warms up from my body heat and becomes a permeant fixture.

  Throughout the day I find myself not experiencing the sick feeling in the bottom of my stomach I have come to live with since Drake’s arrest. I feel light and I dare to say, happy.

  Drake isn’t here in person but he is always with me, in mind and soul.

  Chapter Twenty - May 2005

  Drake

  I haven’t slept properly in three nights. Only two more hours and I’ll be sitting or standing in front of the parole board. I’m not sorry one fucking bit. I don’t own one shred of remorse. What I chose to inflict on Calvin James was brutal and calculated. I already decided to make him bleed before Cammie asked me to hurt him. My mind was as clear as glass. I knew exactly what I was doing and I would gladly do it again and again.

  Yet, when I walk in front of the board I will play the part of the most remorseful man in the world, without over doing it. I promised my girl I would make parole and I’m not breaking that promise.

  Two nights ago Cammie was followed home from the café by Sly Sammy. He is a ghost from the past I didn’t expect to show his face when I got banged up. Now he has and I don’t like it. Five years ago, I slept with his wife and it got messy. To be fair, I didn’t know she was his wife. I didn’t know she was married at all. I don’t keep track of who’s married to whom. The only faces I keep track of is the faces that benefit me.

  This isn’t the first time Stan has caught him sniffing around Cammie. His promise to wait and fuck someone I got close with whether she wanted it or not didn’t bother me at the time. I had no intention of settling down back then.

  Apart from seeing him around the pubs occasionally I haven’t given him a second thought. When I did see him, he would always have to stop himself from confronting me knowing I would be able to take him with only a couple of jabs to his jaw. Sammy is more of a wait it out and strike behind your back kind of man. Hence, why he is nicknamed ‘Sly’. And he is a nasty fucker to go with it, when he threatened ‘whether she wanted it or not’ he fucking meant it. What perfect timing for him with me in here unable to look out for Cammie?

  As far as I’m concerned, he has it coming when I’m free. Stan has managed to keep him away from her but he has been too close to her in my eyes and he will pay for that. Cammie is nothing like his wife, she chose to sleep with me behind his back. He needs to sort her out rather seeking revenge on me. Cammie is a God damn angel compared to her and I won’t let anyone, especially Sly fucking Sammy near her. It doesn’t matter if I’m locked up for ten years or standing right next to her, no one is getting to her.

  My fingers drum the phone booth as I wait for Stan to answer. I don’t have to wait long.

  “Alright mate, it’s Drake.”

  “Alright, are you calling with some good news?” he asks, hopeful.

  “I’ve still got a while before they come and get me, besides, I won’t know their decision straight off.”

  “So why the call? Are you missing my voice that much?” he jokes.

  “Shut up funny fucker. I’m calling because I want to know how Cammie is, does she still have a problem with the vermin?”

  I can’t mention names or ask him outright like I was on the street because the phone calls are monitored and again, I can’t have anything creep up and screw my chances today.

  “I laid down the poison and it hasn’t been back,” he replies, dryly.

  “That’s good. Really good.”

  “I’m in the café as we speak and she’s working.”

  When isn’t she working? The only other person I’ve known to work an honest job as many hours as she does, was my mother. I hate both.

  “How is she? Is she getting treated alright?”

  Stan laughs down the phone and then coughs, it sounds like he’s choking on something.

  “What’s so funny?” I ask.

  “Nothing, of course she’s being treated well. Everyone who comes in here knows who she is.”

  Sometimes that is as much as a curse then it is a good thing.

  “Okay I better go. These mobiles drain my phone cards.”

  “Alright mate, let us know how you get on.”

  They sat stiffly in their cheap, haggard suits and an array of plastic cups of coffee sat in front of them. The screw led me to a plastic chair bang in the middle of the small room facing the panel of three men and to my left was sitting Calvin James with another stiff in a suit.

  I sat there listening to them go on about my crime, what the judge said when he sent me down and to Calvin’s victim statement.

  It was surprising to say the least. He said that although he suffered pain and couldn’t work for eight months after my attack, he bears no ill will towards me.

  When I smiled at him, a genuine smile not a smirk I wanted to throw at him he smiled back and everyone saw it.

  The process dragged on and forty-five minutes seemed like a month without gym privileges before they turned their questions to me.

  “You were imprisoned because you committed a very serious and violent crime. We’ve read through your files and compared to previous times you’ve been here. The officers have seen a drastic change in you. No longer argumentative or disruptive. There is no note of violence from you Mr Deveroux.” One stiff says, looking at me over his glasses.

  Another stiff asks, “What has changed this time around? You have never shown any regards for authority before, yet the last two years and four months you have been the model prisoner.”

  I shuffle in my seat and sit straight. Show time.

  “I’ve never had anything or anyone worth keeping on the straight for. This time I do.”

  “And this would be?”

  “My girlfriend. She isn’t the type of woman who will stand for such behaviour and I refuse to lose her because of a lifestyle I shouldn’t be living in the first place,” I say with as much sincerity as I can.

  “What do you plan to do if you’re released early?”

  “I’ve been speaking with an old friend and he’s told me that I have a job waiting if I’m released.”

  Of course, there is no job but if they look into it and they will. They will find Stan with a painting and decorating company that he set up a few months ago.

  “It sounds like you’re taking this serious this time, making plans for a future away from crime.”

  “I am,” I say, sternly.

  It goes on and on for another half hour, before I am led away from the panel holding my freedom in their hands, Calvin quickly stands and pushes past his liaison officer.

  He shakes my hand and tells me he hopes to see me on the out soon. I find it weird considering what I did to the bloke and if I do see him on the street again, it will take a lot not to plunge a blade into his stomach again. All eyes were on us and were lapping up the scene. It had to have helped my case so I played along and smiled and shook his hand.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Cammie

  “Tell me again, do you think it went well from your point of view?” I ask, for the tenth time since our visit began.

  He chuckles and squeezes my hand
s in his.

  “Babe, it went as well as can be expected. You should have seen Calvin. He was acting like we were friends. All smiles and handshakes. It was brilliant.”

  I can hardly contain my excitement. Weeks or days is all we’re looking at if his parole is granted. I will really have him home.

  “I’m seriously contemplating busting you out of here if it isn’t granted, I need you home.”

  “Hey, don’t think like that. I’m coming home, babe.”

  His confidence and faith in the near future makes it easier to go along with him. He makes everything seem like it is set in stone.

  “The first thing I’m going to do is lock us in the flat and not let you out till we have made up for lost time,” he whispers, across the table.

  Sexual tension sweeps over us and the heat that hasn’t been dowsed since the last time he touched me, burns deep inside me.

  It has been so long since we were together, it is a little nerve racking. I want him, need him desperately but doubts creep in. What if he remembers me differently?

  “What’s wrong?” he asks, noticing my hesitation.

  “What if you don’t like the way I am now?”

  He snorts loudly and a little pissed off, “Have you got warts and boils under your jumper or something?”

  “No.”

  “Then nothing has changed, babe, I loved the way you were then and I’m pretty fucking sure I’ll love you the same when I get out. Don’t ever question my love for you.”

  I knew I was being silly.

  “You’re right, it’s just been a long time for both of us.”

  “It was worth it. Missing out on this time with you was for a good reason. As much as I hate being away from you, I won’t ever regret what I did.”

  Now we’re hopefully coming to the end of this nightmare, I have to agree with him.

  “Time’s up, say your goodbyes.”

  The guard calls and a piece of my heart chips away, like it does every time I have to leave him here. Once he’s out, I have no doubt it will fully repair but until that time I have to deal with it.

  We both stand and briefly hug before we get broken apart.

  “I’ll call you as soon as I hear any news,” he tells me, kissing into my neck.

  “Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  I haven’t got used to making this trip to the prison, I never would but the ride home isn’t a numbing pain that overtakes my body anymore. I step off the bus near the café and I notice a man who I have seen a few times in the pub staring at me. I keep my eyes in front of me and keep walking, intending to go home. Waiting at the crossing, I peak through my hair to see he is now standing beside me.

  “You’re Cammie, right?” he asks.

  I nod lightly and keep quiet.

  “It must be hard with Drake in the nick?”

  I take a deep breath and try to sound like he isn’t bothering me.

  “It’s not as bad as I thought it would be,” I lie.

  “Why don’t you let me take you out for a drink, try and cheer you up?” he offers.

  “I’m okay thanks,” I smile, falsely.

  The green man flashes and I cross the road with him still keeping to my side. The café comes into sight and I choose to go in rather than go straight home.

  “C’mon, one drink won’t hurt. I’m a mate of Drake’s. He’ll appreciate me looking out for you,” he carries on.

  I don’t know all of Drake’s friends but I do know that Stan is the only one he trusts with me. This guy out right gives me the creeps and I feel like he doesn’t just want a drink with me.

  “Like I said, I’m fine but thank you for the offer.”

  “You heard her, thanks for the offer now fuck off.”

  I spin round to find Stan close behind us. Where the hell did he come from?

  The guy beside me, chuckles and swiftly disappears.

  “Who was that?” I ask Stan.

  “Vermin. If he comes near you again, let me know.”

  “Sure,” I agree without hesitation.

  Ever since Stan burst my protection bubble as he called it, I have been more on alert of my surroundings and the people who strike up conversations with me.

  “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two - June 2005

  Drake

  There are two types of doors that you will always remember the sound of no matter how long you live. First, the metal door slamming shut trapping you in every night. Second, the main door to the prison closing behind you as you step onto the street as a free man. No longer am I a convict deemed a risk to society but a free man.

  I lied to Cammie when I told her my release date, I didn’t want her coming to this place again even if it was to meet me when I was released. I want to surprise her.

  Lighting a cigarette and storing the pack in my jacket pocket, I don’t bother looking back at the cage that has kept me away from my girl for two and a half years. I throw my bag over my shoulder and walk towards civilisation.

  I choose to take the bus like Cammie has done and take in any changes that have occurred while I was locked up.

  After the second bus ride I’m fuming that she put herself through this every month for me. I left her more than enough fucking cash for her to jump into a taxi and that’s what I did. I throw cash at the driver and give him my address. I only plan on dropping my bag off then taking my girl away from that café. Now I am home, she won’t be going back there, unless it is as a customer. Half an hour later the taxi driver stops outside my building and I am left speechless.

  Numbly, I get out of the taxi and with the driver already paid and tipped he drives away.

  What the fuck is going on? The building I have lived in for over eight years is half demolished and by the looks of what is left, it was burnt out. Cammie mentioned fuck all about a fire, she didn’t mention any of this. How long has it been like this? Then I know, since Christmas. That is when I had to start writing to Marg’s address. Is that where Cammie has been living for the last six months?

  Before I let my temper get the better of me I pull out my cigarettes and light one up. I tear my eyes away from where I used to live and head to the café. I want answers and I want them now.

  I pick up my pace and inhale the cigarette deeply before flicking it onto the ground. The familiar ding as I open the door makes me smile. It brings back so many memories all at once.

  “Drake!”

  Marg sees me as soon as I walk in and rushes over. She is wrapped around me before I can put my bag down.

  “What are you doing here? You said you weren’t out till tomorrow,” she beams, pulling away.

  “I wanted to surprise her,” I smile back.

  My brief moment of reconnecting becomes short lived and agitation of not knowing anything comes back to me.

  “Where’s Cam and why is my building half standing?” I demand.

  “Don’t be angry with her, I wasn’t sure about her when you first brought her here but she has surpassed any doubts I may have had. That girl has done you proud.” Marg admonishes my tone.

  She bends over a table and scribbles down something on her notepad.

  “Marg, what the fuck is going on?”

  I’m losing my shit and this cryptic bollocks isn’t getting me anywhere fast.

  She hands over the piece of paper and says, “Go here, it isn’t far. She’s there now, she took the day off to make sure everything was ready for you tomorrow. Hold on.”

  She leaves me reading an address I think I recognise and goes out the back. She returns in no time handing me a key.

  “You’ll need this to get in.” she says, ushering me out the door.

  “Don’t tell her I’m coming,” I warn Marg.

  “I wouldn’t dare.”

  The address she has given me is only a few streets over from the café and it doesn’t take me long to find it.

  The building looks newer than the one I rented and walk
ing through the hall and up the stairs, it is a lot cleaner.

  Flat six is one of two on the top floor and loud music booms out on the other side of the door. My entire body rushes as I slide the key in the lock. Within seconds this will be real and she will be in my arms. Only, when I turn the key the door doesn’t open. I try again but it’s no good, she must have it bolted on the other side.

  I knock on the heavy wooden door and wait. When it looks like she can’t hear, I knock again. Fuck this music, I remind myself she isn’t expecting me and simply can’t hear me. I wait for a lull in between songs and bang hard on the door repeatedly until I hear her call out she is coming.

  My blood pumps around my body like a tidal surge and my mouth goes dry. I have been dreaming of this moment and for the first time in my life, I’m nervous.

  Cammie

  As soon as the sun was up this morning so was I. I have one day till Drake comes home and my plan is to stay as busy as I can until that time arrives. So far today, I’ve been to the laundrette and washed all the bedding and towels, scrubbed down the kitchen and the bathroom. All I have left to do is the dusting and vacuuming. Before I leave tomorrow, for the last time to catch the bus to meet Drake I will run the duster around again and everything will be perfect. Leaving me plenty of time tonight to try and tame my curls into something sleek and to have a pamper session. I remember the last time he was released from prison, we spent the night together and it was the beginning of us. It feels like a lifetime ago since that night.

  Nothing can take tomorrow away from us and today, nothing will wipe my smile away. Less than twenty-four hours to go.

  I’ve had the music on full blast since I returned from the laundrette and to hell with what the neighbours think. Stan will probably complain soon. I have to put up with banging and shouting from the other tenants so they have no right to complain today.

  When the banging on the door begins as expected I ready myself to give whoever is here to complain a piece of my mind.