by Sorell Oates
“I'd be less stressed about you taking me out for dinner, if I didn't have to worry about running into all your other friends when we meet.”
“Susie, is one meal such a big deal?”
“Are you kidding, Rupert? After what you did?”
“I just would like the chance to talk one on one, so maybe you can see I'm not the arrogant, cruel prat I was in school.”
“How much does it mean to you?”
She was relenting. His hopes were soaring.
“Everything. I look back in life over what I've done, and you have always been my big regret. If there's any way I can have the opportunity to make it up with you, I'd leap at the chance.”
“Tell them.”
“You want me to tell the girls, they’re just friends?'”
“I do.”
“Alright, I'll do it,” he agreed. His voice told her he wasn't lying to shut her up and manipulate her into accepting the date.
“Is this dinner or a date?”
“You tell me,” he said, encircling his arms for a friendly hug.
Ducking out from under his arms, Susan was nowhere close to preparing to fall under his spell so soon.
“Talk to your friends, cancel the benefits. Whatever was going on in your head?”
“They never had a problem with it until last night.”
“Are you blaming it on me?”
“No. I'm just saying as long as I kept all the parts of my life in their relevant compartments there was no crossover or complaints. Life became a lot more complicated at the gallery.”
“Rupert, I'm telling you this as a woman to a man. Friends with benefits does not work for the woman. They agree to it, perhaps thinking they can handle it, but eventually they'll develop emotions. The woman is on the back-foot if she wants to change positions. It's hard to renege on a deal that was agreed to by the male party because of the 'no-strings' appeal. The other reason they agree to it is because they already love you and think by entering the arrangement you'll reciprocate their feelings as you get to know them.”
“Oh. Maybe my life experience isn't so great.”
“Men are from Mars,” said Susan ruefully.
“You remind me of Imogen,”
“I'll take that as a compliment. She's an angel.”
“She is. At least that's one thing we can agree on.”
“How is it you aren't more like her?”
“I don't have an answer for that one,” said Rupert turning his dark blue eyes downcast. “I try and learn from her, but I'm slow in that department.”
A chink in his armor was apparent. A useful weapon perhaps.
“I'll ring you for dinner then.”
“Sure, why not? If you do manage to keep your word,” she added.
“I will. I promise.”
“Rupert, one favor.”
“Sure.”
“No promises. Not from you. Not now.”
He looked away, chewing his lip.
“Guess some wounds never heal,” he said.
“They do. I promise you that. But they always leave a scar. And sometimes tearing open the scar isn't hard. Pull the scab off a wound and you'll find it more than likely bleeds, Rupert.”
CHAPTER 8
“Don't ever let your weight hold you back,” said Susan's father.
They were his last words of encouragement before he sent her packing to boarding school.
Traveling to England to attend school was not something Susan was dreading. In fact, she relished the idea. Brighton College was one of the elite co-ed boarding schools in the United Kingdom. Boasting academic excellence, its extracurricular activities were of the highest standard. It had never crossed Susan's mind that she wouldn't fit in. Unfortunately, due to her size, she was never part of the A-crowd. That having been said, she wasn't unpopular at school. Susan knew she was fat. Susan knew her accent would be mocked. Susan was bold, brave and ready to give Brighton College her all.
Presenting that attitude, Susan made a marked impact at the school. Responsible without being overbearing, by the time she reached year ten she was made a prefect. Younger children looked up to Susan. Her classmates readily gravitated toward her bubbly personality. Susan's enthusiasm and abundance of energy was contagious. It surprised no one when she joined the drama club. What did surprise everyone was her successfully auditioning for the lead role of Tracy Turnbald in the high school's musical production of Hairspray. Physically she was perfect for the part, but it was unusual for lead roles not to go to senior students. Even then Susan had an unmatched talent. To deny her the role on the grounds of her age would not have only been an error of judgment on the path of the show's director, but would have led to a poor production. Something Brighton College would not accept under any circumstances.
In a way it was Susan's first big break. Not only did she have the opportunity to take center stage to demonstrate her unrecognized skills in dancing, singing and acting, but it was her chance to show the school she was more than the token likable, funny American.
When she heard Rupert Locke-Smythe had been cast in the role of Link Larkin, it was a dream come true. Many of the show rehearsals were carried out after school and on weekends. Given the amount of time required to prepare, their significant parts and the nature of the relationship between the two characters they played onstage, Rupert and Susan spent a lot of time together. Offstage their friendship developed rapidly. Present with the drama crowd they were equal in social status. Alone they were something else. They were more than friends. They were more than two wannabe performers. They never discussed what they were, they let the relationship flow naturally.
The first kiss they shared was onstage, in character, as part of the show. The cast and crew of the production cheered and wolf-whistled at the sight of the two teens locking lips. It was Susan's first-ever kiss and one she would never forget – especially as it was so public. Inextricably drawn to one another, the hours spent together went beyond rehearsals. Susan would happily coach Rupert and assist with any homework or assignments where she could. Rupert was equally fond of her and would invest hours researching and helping her plan a future in musical theater.
Reflecting back on life's romantic moments, she remembered as a fifteen-year-old girl practicing to dance with Rupert outside one drizzly Saturday afternoon; as the rain fell harder they never stopped dancing. Dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt, she could see the toned, athletic build which had scored him the captaincy of the rugby team. Her vision of the resplendent boy was short-lived as Rupert pulled her closer to dance properly with him. Forgetting the staged dance moves, he held her tight, swaying with her slowly. It was as if he had chosen her for the last song of one the school dances regularly held on campus. There was no music playing, but the rain provided the beat and they danced on the melody of love. Probably no one ever saw them which was why Rupert selected that moment to make her his. To steal her heart forever more.
Kissing rehearsals was one thing, kissing in the show was another thing, but kissing in private when the curtains were drawn to the standing ovation was the kiss to seal the high school sweethearts fate.
The after party was what every teenager involved in the production had mostly been looking forward to. Having engaged in her first official kiss with Rupert, Susan envisaged she would fly on a cloud of love to the gymnasium where the party was hosted. By now, against all odds, Susan was certain what she had with Rupert was real. She was at a point where confidence would allow her to express her feelings so the couple could become official in the eyes of their classmates.
Tirelessly trolling the local shops, Susan had managed to get her hands on a flattering number to “wow” Rupert and the rest of the cast. Keen to make the best impression, she stayed back to apply her make-up to ensure she didn't embarrass Rupert publicly. Afterward she would wonder how different things might have been had she gone straight to the party. Walking the empty corridors of the school auditorium, Susan heard a giggling from t
he boys' dressing room. Thinking she was the last person in the building, she knew it appropriate to knock and let the lovebirds know they would have to lock up on the way out. There was also an element of her wanting to nab a juicy bit of backstage gossip to bring to the party. Knocking sharply on the door, she waited a few seconds before entering. It wasn't long enough to hide the scene she was bursting in on. Her hand went to her mouth, not to cover a gasp but to stop herself from being sick.
The sight before her was Rupert naked from the waist up, jeans unbuttoned with co-star Nicole, who was playing Amber Von Tussle (her on-stage nemesis), straddling him. His hands were under her top. Her hands were running through his the hair that topped at his collar. The kiss was nothing like the one Susan and Rupert had shared earlier. The kiss she and Rupert shared had been tender and gentle, him caressing her cheek, then sliding his hand under her hair as he closed his eyes to kiss her. The kiss with Nicole was what the inexperienced Susan had heard was otherwise known as French kissing.
It was Nicole who sensed her presence. Breaking lips with Rupert, she turned to Susan. Angling his head to one side, Rupert's face was hard to read. Whether it was distress, disappointment or something else entirely different, he did not look pleased to see Susan. Standing up, Nicole went behind Rupert, draping her arms around his neck. Letting her hands caress his naked torso, kissing his glossy black hair, her actions were those of a woman parading a trophy.
Cruelly, Nicole took the opportunity to further humiliate Susan. “You appear shocked, Susan. Why is that?”
“There's no reason. I only thought I was the last person here. I heard you guys, I thought I'd poke my head round the door to remind you to lock up. I wasn't exactly expecting to see what I have.”
“Should've stayed out then, sticky-beak!”
“Steady on, Nikki. She was doing the right thing. The last person to leave is responsible for locking up.”
“Since when were you a stickler for the rules Rupert Locke-Smythe?”
“I'm not. I was only saying.”
Susan sought his troubled eyes.
“Did you think what happens in Hairspray was happening in Brighton College?” sneered Nikki.
“Nikki leave it. There's no need for this,” said Rupert uncomfortably.
“Rupert why do you care? Is this what you want? Is that who you want to be with?”
“Of course it's not. I don't care about a fat chick that can sing. You know the score, Nikki. If it wasn't for Susie throwing herself at me, I'd be behind on assessment and permanently in detention for not handing in homework. It was a handy set-up for me. Plus, she covered the night I went clubbing with the boys, saying we were rehearsing. I wasn't prepared to sacrifice my easy ride so soon.”
“Well you've got a better ride now, don't you?”
“Promises, promises, are you going to deliver on that later?” he drooled, teenage hormones raging.
“Have I let you down before?”
“I'm still here,” said Susan. “I'll leave you two to it.”
“It's only the opening night. We've got a week of sold out performances left,” taunted Nikki.
“Don't forget to lock up,” reminded Susan robotically.
Skipping the party, she went straight to bed.
The recollection of the incident flew around the college like an out-of-control bushfire. Nikki made sure the cast knew that night, they spread the word to classmates and pretty much everyone from age three to eighteen who attended the school had heard of Rupert's triumph in using the foolish, fat, love-sick, deluded Susan-Marie Thompson.
The adage “kids can be cruel” was true for Susan in this case. Naturally a happy-going, warm and friendly person, having to maintain that facade when her heart was breaking was almost too much for the teen to bear. A prefect, the face of the drama club and active participant of other clubs, it was as if the entire school was waiting to see how the funny, fat girl would deal with the event.
Regardless of what they expected from her, Susan retained her public image. However much hurt she felt, however many tears she shed, it all took place behind closed doors. For Brighton College, life went on as per usual. For Susan, her life had changed irrevocably.
Dealing with a broken heart is one thing, but to lose your first love in the cruelest possible way was damage that could never be repaired. What hurt the most was that there had been a hint of something in Rupert's eyes which suggested he wasn't keen to play with Nikki in that moment. His behavior and words seemed forced. He hadn't wanted to mistreat her, despite boasting he had. Whatever excuses she made, she couldn't deny the fact that he had chosen to be cruel to her. Maybe she misread the signs, maybe he was being friendly and not making overtures towards them becoming couple, but he'd treated her as a nothing and a nobody and all for what? To impress Nikki? It wasn't as if there was a room full of people listening him declare it wasn’t okay to date the school fatty. Even if he had used her, they’d spent an enormous amount of time together. Working, laughing, talking, sharing. Whatever his reasons were, that should have meant something. Clearly impressing Nikki meant more.
Hardening her heart, she promised herself no man would ever treat her the same again. Certainly not Rupert Locke-Smythe. Given half a chance she'd teach him a hard lesson about love and friendship, dished in the exact cold, callous way he'd treated her.
Making plans there and then would prove fruitless. Her father called to inform her he'd got a job. As a theater director he was always at work. Mostly he did national tours or off-Broadway fringe theater for limited runs. Landing a huge job on London's West End was a massive achievement for him. Although originating from a wealthy family, he was insistent that no one was to have an easy ride. His grandfather, an owner of a chain of cinemas, had sold up leaving a comfortable estate, but not one that would support generation after generation of the Thompsons. Frugal, he was proud of the work he did and what he'd achieved. This particular value he was keen to impart on Susan.
When she got the call she'd been thrilled for him. That he was a sixty minute ride away by train was the best news to receive. Alone, a foreigner and struggling in the aftermath of Rupert and Nikki, an only child whose mother died soon after childbirth, the chance to spend time with her dad was exactly what she needed. Throwing a silent prayer to the universe, she thanked a force greater than herself for aiding her. Susan made the mistake of revealing to her father the assumption that they'd be able to bond in such close proximity. It was the worst approach to take. He'd packed her off to boarding school from a young age to focus on his career. Having financially reached the possible pinnacle of his career, a weepy, heartbroken daughter would prove an unwelcome distraction when his entire focus needed to be on the show.
The next call she received was her father breaking the news that she would be returning to America to complete her education. She was to live in the Manhattan town house where her Aunt and Uncle from her mother's side would care for her. With only a term left before she finished the first level of high school education in England, her GCSE's, she pleaded with her father to reconsider. She was adamant she'd return to the states once she'd completed the exams as part of a compromise. Refusing her on the grounds of her fragile mental state, Susan had no option but to obey her father and leave.
“I hear you're going home, Susan,” Imogen stuck her head in the two person dormitory.
Looking at Imogen it was hard not to think of Rupert. The same dark hair and blue eyes. Had it not been for the age difference, she’d have sworn they were twins.
“Yes. You heard right. Everyone hears everything at this school.”
“I guess,” said Imogen absently. “I only wanted to say. You were fabulous in Hairspray. An absolute star! I hope you shine bright on Broadway.”
Skipping in, Imogen threw her arms around her, kissed her on the cheek, then skipped out as lightly as she came in.
Was that a goodbye sent from Rupert, with Imogen as the messenger? Was it possible not everyone in the schoo
l knew about Rupert using Susan over the rehearsal period for a step-up at school? It didn't matter now. Susan had always been about making friends. For the first time in her life she had an enemy and she wanted to bring him down.
CHAPTER 9
Imogen was stretching out on the plush gray sofa in Rupert's minimalistic living room. Black hair in a long braid down her back, goofy slippers on, complete with leggings and a New York Jets football shirt, she was equally at home here as she was in the flat Rupert had bought her two floors below. Taking in the clean lines, gray and black shades with the odd splash of white, she sighed at how detached and cool the room felt. Every technological gadget available was in his possession. Aside from the black and white vases (which cost a fortune) placed on either side of his black entertainment cabinet that ran the length of his wall, a few coffee table books and a cinematic flat screen, the room was almost bare. Not a photo frame was in sight. Every item, even if skewed, was coordinated by Rupert for effect. Masculine – yes! Cozy – no!