by Grace Lowrie
‘You need better friends – ones less likely to get you hurt.’
Suppressing a shiver I folded my arms across my chest. ‘What’s that supposed to mean? I’m not afraid of you.’
‘Well you should be.’ Snatching up his T-shirt he pulled it on over his head, punching his arms through the sleeves and dragging the fabric down over his bruised torso.
‘You’re not going to shower?’
‘No,’ he said shoving his feet into a pair of trainers. ‘You’ll just have to put up with the smell. Let’s get out of here.’ Grabbing his bag in one hand he put the other to my back and guided me towards the door.
We made our way back to TMC Tower in silence – Bay smoked while I quietly pondered his warning. From the first moment I met Bay he’d struck me as trouble – that was the vibe he exuded. But over the intervening weeks as I’d got to know him – earned his trust, unearthed his grudging generosity, basked in his artistic appreciation and revelled in his coarse sense of humour – my initial impression had been overwritten, if not erased. But there was still so much I didn’t know about him.
‘Is the other guy OK?’ I enquired as we entered the lift. Being in there with Bay still made my skin tingle.
He raised an eyebrow at me.
‘You know – the guy you fought – is he OK?’
‘He’s fine. I didn’t even hit him that hard – he feigned a black out to end the match.’
‘Why?’
Bay shrugged. ‘Got scared I guess.’
‘Does that happen often?’
‘Sometimes. A lot of the guys who sign up there don’t have much real experience.’
‘And you do.’ It wasn’t a question, and Bay didn’t reply. ‘You scare them,’ I added, finally understanding Trudy’s concern – apparently Bay was so dangerous in the ring that his mere reputation was enough to intimidate other men.
The realisation should have appalled me. I’d never approved of grown men threatening and beating each other in the name of sport – it sounded moronic – but having been to a legal club and experienced the atmosphere for myself, I was starting to reconsider.
Though I still didn’t know the root cause, I knew for certain Bay suffered emotional pain and struggled with anger. Most of it he seemed to take out on himself with drugs and booze, but when he did need to lash out, like tonight, rather than recklessly instigating a brawl in the nearest bar, he’d chosen to unleash his aggression in the controlled environment of a club – one with rules, restrictions, and protective headgear. And there was virtue in that – a strength in Bay’s character that I couldn’t help but admire.
The fight, though brief, seemed to have taken the edge off his anger, and as I accompanied him into his flat I hoped he had forgiven me enough that we could still be friends. The intimacy we’d shared two nights ago, that close sense of easiness between us, was gone. Naked in Bay’s bed I’d discovered a playful side to him; a lightness, an openness that almost rivalled the sex itself, and I already missed it. But Ash’s impromptu visit had ended what was only ever going to be a one night stand – a sexual relationship with Bay was out of the question – it would only complicate things in the long run. Now, if I could just get our friendship back on track, everything could go back to how it was before…
‘When was the last time you ate?’ I said, discarding my handbag on his unmade bed and making a beeline for his kitchen. When Bay didn’t answer I turned back to look at him. He was leaning against the far wall watching me with a distracted look on his face, as if he was trying to figure something out. ‘Bay?’ I prompted.
He shrugged.
‘I’ll make us something, then.’ Opening the fridge I cast an eye over the meagre contents. ‘Go and have a shower,’ I added over my shoulder. Without a word Bay sauntered off to the bathroom, his hand buried in the wild tufts of his hair.
Chapter Thirty-six
Standing with my back to everybody, I took another gulp of the over-priced, too-sweet, barely-alcoholic beverage in my hand, and stared out at the glowing horizon. I’d ordered Aperol Spritz because it sounded like the sort of drink Cally might enjoy, but she was late, I was restless, and having finished my own Spritz I was now downing hers. Where was she?
Recently Cally had been hanging out with me on an almost daily basis. She kept dropping round unannounced and making meals in my kitchen, or she’d bring her laptop and tap away on it, or lie there reading books on my bed as if she owned the place. For a recluse like me it was unnatural to have so much company – I should hate it – I should put a stop to it; throw her out; keep my door locked – for her own safety, if for no other reason.
But I’d warned her I was bad news – she’d come to the fight club for fuck’s sake – if anywhere was a clue to my true nature it was that shit hole. Cally hadn’t seen me fight, but she’d witnessed enough to understand my bad rep. Yet, when we got back to the flat, she acted like nothing had changed. And apparently I’m too fucking weak and selfish to push any harder.
It didn’t help that the chemistry between us was staggering. Usually the moment I’d had a woman, I was done with her – sex was a release; a means to an end, nothing more. But it was different with Cally – our ‘just once’ had involved doing it three mind-blowing times in one night – I couldn’t seem to get enough of her – and ever since then, for the past eight days, I’d been trying hard to forget. I may not be able to get rid of Cally, but I was determined to keep my dick in my pants – some things were a risk too far.
In the early hours of this morning, before she’d retired to the flat next-door to sleep, she’d said she’d be going shopping and asked me to choose a place to meet her afterwards. I wanted to impress her, so I’d suggested the roof top of this multi-storey car park in Peckham, with its quirky pop-up bar, spectacular views and trendy hipster crowd. Festival-style toilets aside, it had a good vibe and the distinctive scarlet tarpaulin alone made it very Cally. But I was regretting it now; she was late, there were too many people and I had a growing urge to throw myself off the edge. Was she lost? Had something happened to her? Why didn’t she ever have her phone switched on? And why was I letting it bother me so much? This was another good reason not to get close to people – they couldn’t be relied upon.
Awareness prickled the back of my neck as someone came up behind me and I hoped it was her.
‘Guess who?’ she said, a smile in her voice as she clumsily covered my eyes with her fingers while bashing me round the shoulders with her shopping bags. I took a moment to savour her, now so familiar, sweet floral scent and let the tension start to ease from my muscles with relief.
‘You’re late,’ I muttered.
Cally sighed as she removed her hands and I turned to face her. ‘I know, I’m sorry, I had to get a bus and it took longer than I expected.’ Her cheeks were flushed and stray tendrils of her hair were sticking to her neck and temple. I longed to taste her there; run my tongue over her skin, feel her pulse race and see her head tip back in pleasure…
Slipping her bags off her arms she bent down to neatly line them up between her feet before straightening up again.
‘I’ll have to get more drinks,’ I said pointedly, clutching the two empty glasses. Now that she was here I didn’t care that she was late, I just couldn’t forgive her for the way she made me feel.
‘I can get them…?’
With a shake of my head I dismissed her offer and stalked off.
‘Can I just have a soft drink? I’m really thirsty…’ she called after me.
There was a queue at the bar and as I stood there, suffused in the rosy light created by the awning, I had time to regret being an arsehole. Ruefully I glanced over to where I’d left Cally standing alone, patiently gazing out at the sunset. My fingers itched with the urge to paint and I quickly tried to memorise the details of the scene; the simple eloquence of her posture, the quality of the light glowing in her hair and the fragile serenity she exuded, so that I might capture it all on canvas later. Then I to
ld myself to get a grip.
By 10.30 it was dark, the crowds had begun to thin and I’d managed to nab us an empty picnic bench. We were sitting in a corner of the rooftop car park, away from everyone else, and Cally was excitedly showing me her purchases. She’d picked up a few bargains for herself in the sales, but she’d also bought something for me. The T-shirt was black, my colour, with a retro print of a charcoal grey, green-eyed wolf on the front. It was exactly my size and I liked it immediately, but it had been years since anyone had given me anything, and for a moment I was struck dumb.
‘I just saw it and thought of you – but you don’t have to wear it – in fact I can return it if you don’t want it,’ she said, trying to shove it back into a bag.
‘No,’ I said, snatching it back. ‘I want it. But this doesn’t mean you get to keep my Alice In Chains shirt.’
She grinned. ‘Damn.’
I lit up a fag and the scrutiny of her gaze was warmer on my skin than the flame.
‘I thought you were giving up.’
‘I’ve cut down – I doubt I’ll ever give up completely.’ She looked disappointed and I changed the subject. ‘How’s work going? You haven’t mentioned it in a while.’
‘It’s fine,’ she said. ‘There’s not much to mention – most nights are the same. The other girls are friendly enough and I usually do OK for tips…’
Now that I’d seen her dance – properly pole dance in only a pair of knickers – I had to try even harder not to picture her at the club, doing the same thing for strangers. On the nights she worked her shifts, I painted and drank or got high; anything to keep busy and stop myself from worrying about her. ‘So the punters aren’t giving you any trouble?’
‘No – the club has strict rules and Liam is quick to throw out anyone who tries to break them.’ ‘Liam?’
‘Oh God,’ she said, briefly covering her face with her hand. ‘Did I say Liam? I meant Leroy – he’s a bouncer on the door, I think I’ve mentioned him to you before.’
‘So who’s Liam?’
She sighed, rubbed her forehead and closed her eyes, as if that might shut out my curiosity. But it didn’t. ‘Cally?’
‘He’s my ex-boyfriend. Leroy reminds me of him, that’s all.’
Shifting sideways I straddled the bench to better see her face, but she kept her eyes closed and half hidden behind her hand. Suspicion and suppressed rage simmered through my veins as I intently studied her profile. I fought to keep my voice steady. ‘Is he the reason you left home? Did he hurt you?’
‘No!’ She glared at me.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes! If anything I hurt him, OK?’
I wanted to believe her. ‘Are you still in love with him?’ The question slipped out before I could catch it, surprising us both. ‘Fuck. Actually forget that, I don’t want to know.’ Wrenching my eyes away from her I stubbed my fag out with ill-concealed irritation.
She didn’t reply, and in the ensuing awkward silence I internally berated myself with a string of expletives. I did want to know, and we both knew it – I wanted her reassurance that she was over him. But why? Why? I liked to paint Cally, and yes the sex with her had been fantastic, and OK, I’ll admit, I enjoyed her company too, but that was it. Why should I give a shit who she loved?
Leaning down, Cally rooted around in one of her carriers and removed a small paper bag full of cherries. Throwing one leg over the bench, she straddled it, mirroring me, her skirt riding up above her knees. She set the cherries on the seat between us in mute offering – they looked almost black in the low light. With a shake of my head I declined, but watched, rooted to the spot, as she plucked one, sank her front teeth into the ripe globe of flesh, delicately removed the stone with her fingertips before launching it off the rooftop and into the dark. Popping the rest of the cherry into her mouth she smiled hesitantly at me as she chewed, a blood-like trickle of juice escaping the corner of her mouth. She caught the fluid with the tip of her tongue and swallowed, while I stared, helplessly transfixed.
‘Bay, you know whatever this is between us, is just… ’ killing me, my brain supplied, ‘…temporary.’ My hand strayed to her knee of its own accord, my fingers spreading out across her warm skin. She shivered slightly at the contact but didn’t move away. ‘I’m so grateful to you for the company and all the new things you’ve introduced me to… I just don’t—’
‘Like what?’ I interrupted, keeping my voice low, though there was no-one close enough to overhear us.
‘Well, you know, like the street feast, the rock concert, the outdoor cinema, the fight club…’ Her voice wavered as my fingertips caressed the inside of her thigh. What was I doing? This was dangerous. My head was telling me to stop, to abstain, but it was addictive witnessing the effect I had on her.
‘And…?’
She swallowed heavily but held my stare. ‘Tattooing… smoking dope…’
‘Anything else?’
‘Sex,’ she whispered, blushing like a virgin bride.
‘You’ve had sex before.’
‘Yes, but not like with you…’
‘You mean fucking,’ I said, tracing small circles on her skin. ‘You liked the way I fucked you.’
‘Yes,’ she breathed, her eyes closing, heavy with arousal. God I wanted her.
‘What else haven’t you tried? I bet you haven’t come in public before?’ I said, slowly inching my fingertips under the hem of her skirt.
She gasped, her eyes snapping open and darting self-conscious looks over my shoulder as she pushed my hand away. ‘No! I… I don’t think I’m ready for that…’
I shouldn’t tease her, but she was the embodiment of temptation. ‘Then what, Cally? What else do you want to try? What’s the filthiest, dirtiest fantasy that’s ever crossed your mind?’ I kept a hold of her hand and her fingers absently twined around mine.
‘I can’t.’
‘Why not? What are you afraid of? If you can’t tell me, then who? There’s no strings between us and I won’t—’
‘A threesome.’
I stilled at this entirely unexpected revelation. Fuck. ‘With another woman?’
‘No, another man.’ Her eyes flashed defiantly as she said it, as if laying down a challenge. Whether she realised it or not she was goading me; daring me; testing my resolve and the limits of my physical need for her. She had no idea who she was dealing with – no clue how dangerous I could be.
‘I’m sure that could be arranged,’ I said with a smirk.
She laughed and shook her head, dismissing it all as a big joke. ‘Oh and I’ve never been on top,’ she added, as an after-thought.
‘Really? Hell, we can remedy that right now,’ I said, dumping the bag of cherries on the table, grabbing her hips and dragging her along the bench towards my lap.
She yelped in surprise, ‘Stop it! Don’t you dare!’ She laughed, batting at my arms, flustered with embarrassment and I released her. I was only half serious, but my cock throbbed and balls ached with frustration. ‘I believe it’s your round,’ she said, rearranging herself demurely with her legs together on one side of the seat and plucking another cherry from the bag.
‘Don’t go anywhere.’ Standing up I adjusted the front of my trousers and headed back to the bar, the sweet aroma of cherries now trapped in my nostrils and taunting my every step.
By the time I returned with our drinks I’d calmed down, but Cally was no longer alone at our table; there was someone in my seat.
‘Willow?’
‘Hey,’ she said, smiling lazily up at me as I sat down. ‘Second time I’ve seen you in less than two months, must be a record, huh?’
‘It wasn’t intentional,’ I muttered. ‘Why are you here?’
She shrugged, smoke escaping from her mouth as she tapped ash from the menthol cigarette in her hand. ‘Same as you, I expect – having a drink with friends. It was me that told you about this place, remember?’
‘Was it?’
‘Yeah, a while ago n
ow. It’s good to see you out and about for a change – it suits you – you’ve almost got colour in your cheeks.’
‘Don’t let us keep you,’ I said, hoping she would take the hint and bugger off.
‘You’re not. Cally here was just showing me her new butterfly tat – it’s lovely – another Madderson masterpiece! Welcome to the club,’ she said, leaning in to Cally and nudging her shoulder.
Cally smiled back but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
‘How are you, Bay?’ Willow said, reaching across and giving my forearm a squeeze. ‘You seem a little tense?’
Usually I didn’t mind Willow’s openly flirtatious ways; her casual approach to sex had always suited me. But right now, with Cally in my orbit, it was all wrong. Before I could respond, Cally stood up, excused herself, climbed out of the bench and walked off to the toilets. Was she upset? Willow’s touch was irritating and I yanked my arm out of her grasp.
‘What? What’s wrong?’
Ignoring her I lit up a fag of my own, inhaling deeply. ‘Shall I come back to yours tonight? You look like you need to unwind.’
‘No.’
‘Why? You’re not planning to get Cally into bed are you?’
I glared at her. ‘No.’
‘I hope not ‘cause she’s a sweet girl, Bay, and she’s got a crush on you – you know that, right…? Don’t go there.’
‘Who are you, her mother? You don’t even know her.’
‘No, but I know you – you’ll fuck her and drop her and it’ll break her heart. You’ll hate yourself afterwards.’
‘I already hate myself, what’s the difference? Just mind your own fucking business.’
As I knocked back my drink, Willow stood up to leave. ‘Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
Cally looked peaky when she returned, as if she might have been sick.
‘You OK?’ I said.
She nodded. ‘Where’s Willow?’
Standing up I shrugged. ‘Shall we go?’
Questions hovered in her expression, but I avoided her eye by gathering up her shopping bags and we left without another word to each other. Willow didn’t have to say it – I was well aware that Cally deserved better than the likes of me. I would not fuck her again.