by Grace Lowrie
Stumbling towards him, my stomach plummeted with dread. He was sprawled on the kitchen floor, shrouded in shadow and not moving. ‘Bay?’ I switched on the kitchen spotlights, and as they flickered into life the true horror of the situation was revealed in all its Technicolor glory.
He lay face down in a pool of blood and vomit. It might as well have been a lake. I’d never seen so much blood. There was a cut on his head and his skin was deathly pale. Was he dead? ‘Oh God no, Bay!’ Collapsing to my knees beside him I patted his cheek, relentlessly shouting at him to wake up. But his skin was unnervingly cold and he didn’t react. Lowering my ear to his mouth I checked to see if he was breathing, the smell making me want to gag, and then I promptly burst into tears as I felt his shallow breath on my skin. Reaching into his trouser pocket I dragged out his mobile and called for an ambulance. While I waited for it to arrive I squeezed Bay’s hand, rambling hysterically to the woman on the other end of the line about there being too much blood and too many drugs, and how I didn’t want him to die…
It was some relief when the emergency services arrived and took control. While they checked him over I was instructed to gather together anything he might need for the hospital. Unable to stop shaking I gathered a change of clothes from Bay’s wardrobe and toiletries from the bathroom in a daze. By the time I returned to the kitchen, the two paramedics had him strapped to a stretcher with a drip in his arm, but he was still unconscious. One of the two theorised that he had overdosed and passed out, hitting his head on the way down. But she didn’t say he would be OK. She swept the prescription drugs from the counter top into a clear plastic bag, leaving behind the empty vodka bottle, Bay’s credit card, a rolled bank note and a sprinkling of white dust.
They let me travel with him to the hospital. I held on tight to his blood-stained hand, silently willing him to be OK. On arrival the nurses wheeled him away and a woman asked me questions while I sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair in a waiting room full of strangers. According to his records he didn’t have a next of kin, so I told her about Ash, but then regretted it and worried that I’d done the wrong thing. I was only his neighbour after all. At some point I must have fallen asleep, because I woke up with a crick in my neck and dribble on my chin.
‘Bailey Madderson? You can see him now,’ said the male nurse standing over me.
‘What? Is he… is he OK?’
‘Yes he’s awake now, you can go and see him if you want.’ I hugged the poor guy as I thanked him, repeatedly, overwhelmed with relief.
Bay had his eyes closed when I stepped inside the curtained cubicle. There was still a drip in his arm, but the cut on his head was hidden beneath a big bandage and most of the blood on his face had been wiped away. Instead he had the residue of something black around his mouth – charcoal maybe. They’d dressed him in a white patterned hospital gown, not his style at all, and he was covered by a sheet from the waist down. Opening his eyes, he pinned me with his green gaze and I stared back, mute.
‘You look about as shit as I feel,’ he croaked.
I wanted to hit him for everything he’d put me through, but it was so good to see him alive and as insulting as ever. I threw myself at him, sobbing noisily into his neck while he lay there.
We didn’t speak for a long time. Even after I’d calmed down and freshened up in the Ladies’, I simply sat by his bed, idly flicking through a magazine while he dozed. I was too angry to speak. Finally it was Bay who broke the silence.
‘You can go if you want. I doubt they’ll release me until mid-morning at the earliest.’
Setting the magazine aside I crossed my arms. ‘That’s it? You’re dismissing me…? No “thank you”? No “I’m sorry”…?’
‘Oh that’s why you’re hanging around – I did wonder.’ I glared at him, enraged.
‘OK, what would you like me to say? “Thank you for saving my miserable life”? “I’m sorry you felt the need to call an ambulance”? What?’
His sarcastic tone couldn’t disguise the raw emotion behind his words and my anger receded in a weary sigh. ‘Please stop doing this to yourself.’
‘What?’
‘This,’ I said, gesturing limply at him. ‘Punishing yourself with drugs and alcohol and God knows what else. It can’t have been fun, what you’ve just been through, so why do it? Why not get help and stop?’
‘You can’t ask me to change my lifestyle when you won’t even consider changing yours.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Stripping. I asked you not to go to work and you just—’
‘It’s my job, Bay! Jesus, is that what this was about? Are you punishing me because I wouldn’t do what you wanted? Because you don’t like the idea of other men seeing me take my clothes off?’
‘No, I’m merely pointing out that you’re being hypocritical—’
‘No, you’re trying to emotionally blackmail me to get what you want,’ I said, rising to my feet. ‘This is wrong, I can’t do this, I’m done.’ Picking up my bag I turned to leave.
‘Cally…?’
His voice cracked and it was almost enough to make me turn back. But I couldn’t help him; if anything I was making things worse. And anyway, drug addicts have to want to help themselves, isn’t that what they say…? Gritting my teeth I walked away, shock and exhaustion numbing my emotions.
But as I was leaving the ward Gibbs and Trudy were just arriving. We all stopped, Trudy smiling uncertainly and Gibbs eye-balling me with silent accusation.
‘Hello, Cally,’ Trudy said.
‘I’m just leaving, OK?’ I held up my hands defensively. ‘He’s all yours.’
‘You’re running out on him you mean,’ Gibbs muttered, a verbal punch to the gut.
‘Hey, c’mon, sweetheart, that’s not fair,’ Trudy gently interjected. ‘Cally saved his life by bringing him here, and he’s a big boy…’
‘If I find out that you’re in any way responsible…’ Gibbs began, pointing a shaky finger at me.
‘OK, just leave it,’ Trudy said, physically steering Gibbs past me and into the ward. For a moment I just stood there, motionless and drained, before slowly making my way back to my flat and the gory mess Bay had left behind next door.
Chapter Fifty
I was accustomed to loss. I’d lost a lot of people over the years, starting with my twin aged just six. When I let Bax die, I amputated exactly half of myself, and I’d not been whole since; I never would be, and I was used to that. I could deal. But Cally… Cally… missing her was something else entirely.
She wasn’t even dead, in fact she still lived right next door, but it felt like my internal organs had been ripped out through my eye sockets – I was a husk; a ghost; a shadow in excruciating mental, physical and emotional pain. Before her I didn’t know what I was missing; didn’t know I could be happy; didn’t know I could care so much about another person.
She was absolutely right to stay away from me, because I loved her; I’d fallen in love with her, as trite and ridiculous as that might be, and more than anything I wanted to protect her. Since being discharged from the hospital two weeks previously, I’d managed to avoid any direct contact. Instead I’d become a fully paid-up, certifiable member of the stalkers club.
Not that I followed her everywhere. Sometimes she snuck out without me hearing while I was listening to ‘Something I Can Never Have’ by Nine Inch Nails on repeat, or busy adorning canvases with her image, or trying and failing to sleep. But three times a week I dressed incognito and followed her to work; paying entry along with all the other losers and sitting at the back keeping tabs on her from afar. She seemed tired and subdued lately, something I fervently hoped was not my fault, but she never missed a shift. The way she danced at the club was different to the way she’d danced for me – less lively, less soulful, as if her mind was preoccupied and she wasn’t really there. Cally was always worth watching, though; she lit up the room and was popular with the staff and the regulars, who all knew her as
‘Luna’. Keeping one eye on her and the other on her fans, I silently begged one of them to put a toe out of line so that I could kill them with my bare hands. It would make me feel so much better.
Tonight I might just get my wish; there was a guy sitting eye-fucking her who had caught my attention. He looked wealthy and successful – average height, build and looks, but suited and booted and sporting an expensive-looking gold wristwatch. His smiling, non-threatening gaze was sliding casually all over her as if he was above her charms. But I knew differently. His body was strung tight with tension, his jaw twitching and his hands fisted under the table – he was struggling to refrain from touching her.
Leroy had noticed, too. The twenty-four-stone bouncer looked out for all the girls, it was his job, and Cally was one of his favourite charges. He’d clocked my interest in her from day one and acknowledged it occasionally with an amused raise of his eyebrow, but he’d known me long enough to know that harassing women wasn’t my style. If Mr Flashy Rolex made a wrong move, Leroy was sure to swoop in and intervene – I only hoped he’d give me a pop at the bastard afterwards.
But the punter in question managed to restrain himself, and Cally’s shift passed without incident – leaving me both relieved for Cally and disappointed for me. When she stepped down for the night and disappeared backstage to change, I followed Mr Rolex outside and took up residence in my usual spot – a shadow by the door, from where I could observe Cally climbing safely into a taxi. Ivor, the doorman, greeted me with the same wry amusement that Leroy conveyed.
‘Back again, Bay? What are you, Luna’s guardian angel or something?’
‘Hardly,’ I muttered, retrieving my fags from my pocket. ‘More like a wolf baying at the moon.’
‘Eh?’
I howled, just once, long and low, to prove my point and Ivor chuckled.
‘You’re cracked, man, seriously.’
‘Yeah, probably,’ I lit up. ‘Just pretend I’m not here,
OK?’
‘Yeah, yeah, I know.’
Mr Rolex had stopped across the way to take a leak in a doorway, and I kept one eye on him, wishing he’d hurry up and leave. As I was finishing my fag, Cally emerged through the door, filling my vision. It was torture being so close and not being able to touch her. Smiling, she pecked Ivor on the cheek goodbye. ‘I’m just nipping to the shop to grab a pint of milk then I’ll be right back,’ she said.
‘No, Luna, you know the rules…’ Ivor warned as she started to walk off in the wrong direction down the alley.
‘I know, but I’ll just be two minutes, I promise,’ she called over her shoulder, hurrying away into the shadows.
‘What the fuck?’ I muttered, incredulous.
‘I know man, but what can I do? These girls never listen to me and I can’t leave the door…’
Shit. I cast an eye around for Rolex but couldn’t see him. Which way had he gone? ‘I’ve got it,’ I said, discarding my fag butt and going after Cally.
Up until this point I was fairly sure she hadn’t spotted me at the club; I’d been careful to stay hidden and I was reluctant to blow my cover now, but there was no way I was letting her walk an alleyway alone at 3 a.m. Staying several paces behind, I kept to the shadows, carefully side-stepping bin-bags, takeaway boxes, broken glass and anything else that might give my presence away. The last thing I wanted to do was frighten her. She had almost reached the busy main road when a man suddenly lunged out from behind an industrial-sized bin and grabbed her.
It was so awful and so precisely what I’d feared most that for a second I thought I must be hallucinating. But she yelped through the hand over her mouth as he pushed her roughly up against a wall, and my primal kill instinct kicked into overdrive. Running up I punched him in the side of the face so hard that his grip on Cally loosened immediately; his knees buckling. ‘Don’t fucking touch her, you fucking son-of-a-bitch!’ As he went down I hit him twice more.
‘Bay?! What…?’ Cally was still pressed against the wall but staring at me with an expression of utter horror – the exact way I’d always imagined her looking once she discovered the real me. Now that it had finally happened, I didn’t like it.
‘Get in a taxi and go home like you were fucking supposed to, Cally.’
She jumped, stumbling away from me towards the street, shaking like a leaf, and I hated myself for being so blunt. Rolex was groaning and attempting to drag himself up off the tarmac, but she didn’t need to see all the bloody damage I’d inflicted, so I kicked him in the gut to keep him down.
Flinching she glanced down at him, eyes enormous. ‘W-what are you going to—?’
‘Now, Cally,’ I growled.
I waited while she turned, flagged down a black cab with one trembling arm, climbed in and pulled the door shut behind her. Once she’d been safely whisked away I returned my attention to the piece of shit at my feet. He’d successfully managed to sit up and was now cradling his face in his hands, his watch glinting as it caught the lamplight.
‘I think you broke my nose,’ he said, stunned.
‘I’m only too happy to break something else if you’d like?’
‘Fuck off,’ he said, spraying blood over his own trousers.
Bending down, I grabbed him round the neck and shoved him back against the wall. He grunted as his head connected with the brickwork, his eyes widening in fear. ‘You ever touch a woman like that again and I’ll cut your dick off and make you eat it, understand?’
He nodded rapidly in acknowledgement, eyes bulging, and I released his windpipe. Once I’d wiped the blood from my palm on his tailored suit, I adjusted my tie, straightened up and walked back to the club to make damn sure Rolex would be barred from every strip club in London, for life.
Chapter Fifty-one
I woke on my own bed to loud snoring and the weight of an arm wrapped around me – my favourite arm – inked with a forest of trees stretching up to a full, pale moon.
I’d come home alone, but here he was in my flat, on my bed, bare-chested and spooning me from behind. He must have used the spare key to get in, but why? And then it flooded back. One moment I was taking a quick short cut through an alley, and the next moment I was being attacked by a man I vaguely recognised from the club. Clamping his hand over my mouth he’d shoved me against a wall with viciously clear intent. But before I’d even had a chance to process what was happening, there was Bay – a law unto himself – savage, uncompromising, and utterly sublime.
I wasn’t a fan of violence. What I’d witnessed in the fight club aside, I had little first-hand experience of fighting, and disapproved of it on principal. But witnessing Bay’s particular brand of swift justice up close highlighted the horror I’d have suffered if he hadn’t been there to intervene. Yes Bay was unstable, stubborn and secretive and he must have been following me again without my knowledge (how else could he have been there at precisely the right moment?), but I’d never been more grateful to see anyone in my life.
Twisting my head around I looked up into his handsome face, all shadowed with grief and guilt. Finding him collapsed on his kitchen floor and fearing he might die; they were easily the worst minutes of my life so far, and I’d had a few bad moments recently. It had made me furious with him. But since we’d fallen out at the hospital, life had felt empty. I was miserable without him. Somehow, somewhere along the way, I’d fallen for this troubled man; hook, line and sinker. It was deeply unfortunate and I was determined he would never know, but there it was – I loved him.
It was only midday, I was shattered and ought to go back to sleep. But I wasn’t sure how long Bay would stick around. He looked unusually peaceful as he snored into my hair – and it was so good lying in his arms, cocooned in his warm scent and the steady rumble of his breathing – I wanted to enjoy it for a while. Lightly tracing the lines of his tattoos I experienced a flashback of the punches I’d seen him throw – lightening quick and sickeningly brutal-sounding. I wanted to check the knuckles of his right hand for damage, but
they were hidden under the pillow beneath his head. What had happened after I left? Did he hurt the guy some more? And if so, how badly? At the time he’d looked capable of murder, but I couldn’t believe Bay would actually kill someone…
The snoring had ceased. Sensing his penetrating gaze I looked up over my shoulder to meet it, but he was almost unrecognisable. Propping himself up on one elbow Bay stared down at me looking anxious, wary, and heartbreakingly vulnerable.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep – I just came to check you got home OK and I didn’t want to wake you…’ he said.
I stared at him, speechless. Bailey Madderson never apologised for anything.
‘And I’m sorry I shouted at you like that in the alley; sorry you had to see all that. I’m not sorry that I was there – I dread to think what might have happened – but I am sorry I was sneaking around following you – I should have been open about it. Also, while I’m at it, I’m sorry for what I said at the hospital and for overdosing and letting you find me like that – it was fucking stupid and not fair to you at all—’
‘Stop,’ I whispered.
‘Basically I’m sorry for all the shit I’ve put you through—’
‘Stop. Talking.’
He opened his mouth to speak again and I silenced him with a kiss. His body was still pressed up against mine and as he hardened against my behind, I ached with desire. But his kiss was different from any before –hesitant, cautious, as if he was afraid to hurt me. It was disconcerting. Obviously we had important things to discuss and issues to face, but right now I was too tired for all that, I simply wanted, needed, Bay to be Bay.
He was still wearing the suit trousers he’d worn to blend in at the club. Reaching down I unzipped his fly and released him, but he was still paralysed with doubt and didn’t make a move. Lifting my dress I eased down my knickers and guided him between my legs from behind, and he groaned, deep down in his chest. By flexing my pelvis I massaged back and forth along his length, tasting his growing need on my tongue. When I could stand the teasing sensation no more I broke our kiss and leaned forwards away from him, angling my hips so that he slipped effortlessly inside me; sinking deep into my core, on a long, despairing groan. With his fingers he lightly caressed my body as he took me at a languid, leisurely pace; rolling his hips with a steady rocking motion; stoking and coaxing my climax so adeptly that I felt like I was spellbound or dreaming, or floating outside of myself, safe in his arms. Afterwards we fell back to sleep, him still wrapped around and inside me, as if we were one.