The Poison Morality

by Stacey Kathleen

  Sophie smiled and nodded. Swiftly he leaned over and abruptly kissed her forehead and started to move away but she took his hand, standing. Opening her mouth, she couldn’t think of what to say. What she felt was more than appreciation.

  When she couldn’t find the words he proclaimed, “I know already what you think and how you feel.” She closed her mouth, her hand rested on his cheek, her thumb between his eyes smoothing the wrinkle that deepened there until he relaxed and closed his eyes, enjoying her touch and on her tip toes she kissed him. There was no touching other than one hand holding his and the other on his face and her lips on his, she lingered and he returned it. He smiled down at her, nodding his approval. Finally, he thought and left without a word. Hoping she would ask him to stay but she did not.

  Chapter 29: The Breakup

  The next day, Sophie caught the Waterloo train to the Moorgate stop and walked the lane to the Swiss RE building, also known as the Gerkin. Unfortunately, with its non-existent corners she didn’t really know where to start but at the building itself.

  Holding out the photo, the wind almost ripping it from her hand, she walked this way and that trying to at least get the same angle when something she hadn’t notice the night before stood out like a sore thumb in the daylight. The tip of the Shard building poked above the Gerkin, its pale colour blended in with the fog, almost like a mirage. That narrowed it down to two streets, not all that different from each other but she followed her instincts and continued down the street that seemed most familiar.

  Proceeding slowly, glass facades all looked similar but there was a red post box, also in the picture behind her. More and more the photo was becoming like pieces of a puzzle coming together to form the map to Sydney’s location.

  And there was the metal handrail that Sydney held, leaving the McKinnon, Barclay, and Milden building. Inside she knew this was it but now what? She very well couldn’t walk up to reception and ask, “Have you seen someone that looks like me?”

  The lobby was vast but sparse with a few pieces of modern white chairs with chrome and a giant reception desk with sharp suited receptionists busy with what, Sophie couldn’t imagine but they effectively ignored her except when one nodded acknowledgement and returned to her task.

  The kiosk to the left had the printed names of all that worked there and the floors they worked on. Without knowing what else to do before asking that question she didn’t want to ask she skimmed for any name that might be familiar, maybe Sydney worked here.

  With her forefinger, she slid down the listing, first one row and then the other when a name made her heart sink and dropped into her stomach, her knees trembling, and she broke out into a sweat.

  Run, leave, no Sydney could be in danger. Could it be that she was here to visit Declan? Or worse work for him? It couldn’t be coincidence, could it? Did he have something on her, holding against her? How did he know her and Sophie didn’t? For every piece of information Sophie acquired, several more questions arose. There was no amount of speculation that could bring forth the answer of how they knew each other.

  When the lift doors opened, she shuffled numbly inside pressing the button for the top floor. Smoothly, it went up. Sophie pressed her warm cheek to the glass watching the people on the street become smaller and smaller.

  She couldn’t breathe, the higher she went, the tighter her chest became. Seeming like an eternity passed, the lift stopped and the doors slid open to a waiting area. It was nearly impossible to imagine what would happen if she saw him. All she could picture was him on top of her, the weight of him pressing down on her, and the smell of the woody aftershave that made her sick.

  She stepped out quietly onto the carpet; that smell of him lingered there. The reception was brightly lit but quiet, the desk empty. There was nowhere to hide but a plant that wouldn’t quite cover her and once the fight or flight triggered over to flight, she turned on her heel to leave, she heard a voice, not Declan, a woman.

  “What are you doing here,” the question was a mixture of pleasure and excitement. “Declan’s not here. You weren’t supposed to be here until tomorrow. Or are you here to see me,” the woman purred, her red hair fell across her shoulders, the smile intimate and knowing.

  The look on Sophie’s face must have given her away when the woman’s smile faded slightly and she asked, “What’s wrong? Aren’t you happy to see me,” she sauntered over to Sophie, “It’s only us here; we can do what we want.” She was whispering, twisting one of Sophie’s curls around her finger and touching her breast.

  Sophie glanced past her at the name plate on the desk and laced her fingers around Josie’s wrist, removing it from her person. Obviously she and Sydney were intimate, the shock of the revelation left her mind numb, and she wasn’t sure what to do or say. Should she pretend to be her lover or try to stay neutral?

  “Declan’s not here,” Sophie asked, Josie obviously annoyed that she had already told her so but the disappointment showed more when she jerked her arm out of Sophie’s grip.

  “I just said. What’s wrong with you? Are you ok,” her tone changed to concern. “What the hell?” Josie reached up to touch the cut and bruise on Sophie’s cheek but she stopped her.

  “Josie,” Sophie began and the words poured out before she had a chance to think about them, “I don’t want to hurt your feelings but…”

  “But, you don’t want to see me anymore,” Josie choked on the words, Sophie allowing her to finish the sentence, grateful actually because she didn’t know how.

  “I…don’t…think so,” it almost came out in the form of a question. “It’s not you, it’s me,” they both cringed at that remark.

  Josie jerked as if she had been slapped on the cheek; tears lingered in the corner of her eyes. “You don’t think so,” her voice lowered in anger, “what do you mean you don’t think so? Either you do or you don’t,” she hissed.

  Slowly, Sophie’s brain started to work again, the threat of Declan gone since he wasn’t there. “I think we should only see each other on a professional level?” Sophie was fishing for information.

  “What professional level? We don’t work together. The only time I see you here is when you come to see Declan. You’re acting strange. If you don’t want to be with me any more than just say so,” the tears started to fall down her cheeks and Josie wiped them with the back of her hand smearing her makeup.

  Sophie felt bad for her, “That’s not what I said,” she was confusing herself now accidentally interfering in Sydney’s love life but she obviously couldn’t admit that’s not who she was especially now that she knew that Sydney and Declan were involved somehow. Josie mistook the gesture, “Don’t lie, you’re no better than a man at this, just say it,” she dropped down into her chair jerking tissues out of the box.

  “What time is the meeting with Declan tomorrow?” Sophie asked cautiously, almost choking on his name.

  Josie stopped sniffling, “What? It’s at three as usual,” through clenched teeth she added, “Don’t forget to bring the money. Last time you did, he took it out on me.”

  “You have sex with him?” Sophie was shocked by her own question.

  “You know we do. Have you gone mental,” she paused, hyperventilating. “Is that it? You want Declan?” Josie’s eyes grew wide, “Did he do that to you?”

  A horrified look crossed Sophie’s face and Josie immediately knew the answer but Sophie knew that just saying no wouldn’t be convincing enough, “Umm, no. I’ve met someone, a…a man.” Damn it, she just made things worse. If she hadn’t gone too far, Sydney could have reconciled and now what; she will tell Sydney tomorrow about this whole scenario and think Josie was crazy. Either way, until tomorrow at three, there was nothing else to do but leave without doing more damage.

  Sophie backed up slowly, “I’m sorry.” The lift dinged and she heard the doors open behind her, someone entered and Sophie turned on her heels and walked swiftly past them, head down and into the lift, pushing the button for the lobby mu
ltiple times nervously until the doors closed and she could breathe again. It felt like she had not breathed since she left her flat and now the air in her lungs was sweet.

  She watched the ground coming close as the lift lowered to street level and she practically ran out of the building. Bloody hell, what did she do? How did she do it? Sydney is working with Declan, for what? Tomorrow she would come back to try to catch Sydney going in, there was no way she could go back in that office after what she just did.

  Now, she had to concentrate on telling Oliver not only that she went without him, which will earn a scolding no doubt but what she found out and what she had done possibly adding crisis to a fragile relationship.

  Chapter 30: The Power of French Food and Dancing

  Wednesday came and was half way over when Sophie’s mobile woke her. Drowsily, she groped for it on the table until her hand landed on it. Oliver was on the other end, “Sophie? Sophie, are you there?”

  “Yes, yes I’m here,” sitting up on the couch, her book falling to the floor.

  “Where have you been? I’ve been calling, I came by, I thought we were going into The City.”

  “What time is it,” she asked still groggy.

  “It’s almost six,” he said.

  Sophie shot up and looked at the clock, “Blast! I missed the meeting,” her hand dropped into her lap with the mobile. She heard Oliver ask what meeting. She had fallen asleep she didn’t know when and slept through the day.

  “Um, I’ll tell you about it over dinner.”

  “I’ll be there in an hour, you’re home?”

  “Yes, I’ll be ready,” and she was starving.

  Sophie jumped in the shower trying to wake up, drying off at top speed, her hair wrapped in a towel. She stood looking in her closet. “I really must get some colour,” she stated out loud, pushing the hangers back and forth, the decision not coming as easily as it used to. Aside from her usual dismissive clothing, the gown she wore to the opera hung useless.

  The quantity of black was rather dismal but she found an off the shoulder top of flowing material and a skirt just at the knees she had forgotten about, she had bought at the same time she bought the gown, not sure which to wear at the time. She had bought makeup to try to hide the bruise on her face that already turned colour and her hair hid the bruises on her neck that could be misconstrued as ‘love marks’. About the time she put the brush through her wet hair, Oliver knocked on the door, and she let him in.

  “I’m ready,” she wanted to hustle out the door and to the destination before confessing.

  Her lack of greeting was misconstrued for hunger so Oliver held the bolero jacket she handed him for her to slip her arms through. Once on her shoulders, his hands swept under her hair, his fingertips brushing her neck when he pulled her hair out and opened the door for her.

  He didn’t notice the effect it had on her, not just the tickle on her neck, but the intimate way that he felt he could do that. He was ushering her out the door not giving his gesture another thought, it had become a habit now, but she smiled. It was proof that their comfort levels were at a point that it was natural for such things to happen.

  The maitre‘d greeted Oliver as Dr. Reece with a formal smile, a table already chosen for them and champagne at the table and poured. Suddenly, Sophie felt uncomfortable at the formality of it but she followed Oliver and did as he did. Relaxed, he sat at the table and opened the menu so she did the same. Even with the English translations she had no idea what she would like, the most of it sounded delicious but Oliver, spotting the lost look, offered to order for them and she agreed. It was times like these that she was thankful someone else was there to make the decisions. He ordered in succession multiple courses and their recommended wines. It wasn’t just food for him, it was an experience that he loved and she wanted to feel that way about the things he loved.

  The champagne was nice and prepared her taste buds for what was to come. Food ordered Oliver turned his attention to Sophie, the smile constant; she liked the way the corners of his mouth curled up on the ends. “So what happened, I thought we were going today? Do you want to go tomorrow instead; I can go before going to the hospital.”

  “I went yesterday,” she said nervously, averting his eyes and gulping the champagne. “Oh look at that painting over there.”

  When he said nothing, she looked at him, the smile faded a little but he didn’t seem angry, just a little hurt. The same disappointment that was on Josie’s face but not that extreme. He turned the glass by the stem for a minute, watching the bubbles surface before drinking it down and refilling their glasses.

  “You had no intention of taking me with you, did you,” he had a look of genuine surprise and then a sideways grin, “You….lied…. to me.”

  “Actually no, I had every intention of taking you along, I decided to go last minute by myself yesterday so it wasn’t a lie…until later, I guess.”

  An assortment of bread and cheese with pâté was placed on the table. Sophie opened her mouth to answer when he interrupted, “You should try this brie its delectable,” he spread the cheese on the bread holding it for her to bite it. She started to reach for it but just bit the end off of it, Brie was on the tip of her noise and they laughed, he wiped it off with a napkin. The creamy cheese melted in her mouth.

  “I’m sorry Oliver,” He kept serving them the cheeses and the pâté and every bite was so delicious, it was hard to stay focused on the subject at hand. Not only was the food good but he was serving her and there was something intimate about that, she thought. Thoughtful in the way he smoothed the pâté on, laying it gently on her plate before doing one for himself.

  “I can’t tell you what you can and cannot do,” he paused wiping the corners of his mouth with the napkin and drinking more champagne. The waiter brought golden onion soup, the gruyere melted down the sides of the bowl and small spring leaf salads. Once the waiter left, he continued, “I’ll give you my opinion, I think we’re friends enough for that.”

  “Then by your definition we have been friends from the first time I was at your flat.”

  He chuckled, his eyes shining at her, the blue like the blue/green of the sea she noticed. “I really think I should have gone with you. But, I won’t scold you like a child, you’re a grown woman, I just…,” he paused, fidgeting with the napkin. “So what happened?”

  Not a big fan of onions, she mostly ate the cheese and broth leaving the onions behind, Oliver enjoyed his while she explained, pushing the parts of the salad around on the plate, and occasionally taking a bite.

  Sophie started to tell him about finding the building and he leaned on one hand watching her recall each step but when she started to tell him about Declan, she was thankful for the interruption when the next course came of Boeuf Bourguignon and Duck L’Orange. “Let’s talk about something else for now and enjoy the food.”

  “Was it that bad,” he turned serious, ignoring the food, waiting for an answer.

  “No, not exactly,” she took a bite of the duck and it all but dissolved in her mouth. Chewing slowly she savoured it. Until she opened her eyes, she had not realized they were closed and Oliver sat clutching his fork watching her enjoy the food. She was sexy when she ate but if he mentioned it to her she would put the fork down so he just watched her in between bites they were taking together.

  “Good, yeah?”

  “Oh yes.” He took some of the beef and held out his fork for her to take the bite and her lips closed over the fork and the same look of bliss came over her face. For the next hour they drank the wine and ate from their own plates as well as each other’s. He told her college stories and she told him of interesting books she had read. She was comfortable asking questions about him and answering his. The more wine they drank the easier it became, the looser her tongue.

  Crème Brule and crepes covered in whipped cream and chocolate sauce came and Sophie thought she was in heaven. Where Oliver took a few bites she devoured and scraped the plate. He watche
d in pure enjoyment at her affection for sweets. Once she was finished with what was on her plate, he placed his plate, still half full on top of her empty one for her to continue. He loved that she wasn’t afraid to eat in front of him, like most women who ate like birds obsessed by their weight or putting men off with an appetite. Again he was able to indulge her on a new experience, it was successful. He almost hated to interrupt but when the last crackle of sugar from the Crème Brule crossed her lips he said, “Now, tell me what happened.”

  He ordered an espresso, he stirred constantly and she sipped the remainder of the champagne, not really wanting it but it was there. Her hand shook a little and her voice trembled when she told him about Declan and Sydney’s meeting that she had missed. He looked a little relieved but then she told him the conversation between her and Josie, Declan’s secretary. “I… think I broke off Sydney’s relationship with her.”

  “You what?”

  “I broke up with her,” Sophie repeated everything that was said and Oliver broke out into laughter and then stifling it when people turned to look.

  “They were lovers, you mean,” he still chuckled and kissed her hand, warm from the espresso he sipped.

  She couldn’t help but laugh a little too, not at the situation, “It’s not funny, Oliver,” but she couldn’t help it, the way he laughed was contagious.

  “What if they made each other truly happy, what if they are in love?”

  “Well if it’s true love it will come round right but Sydney’s going to be clueless and think, what was her name again?”

  “Josie.”

  “Josie’s mad,” he continued, he chuckled again.

  “That’s what I thought, too.” They both laughed, he caressed her cheek and she didn’t stop him, a few glasses of champagne and wine along with good food and company was the most fun she had since her birthday until he asked, “Do you want to dance?” Her laughter became chuckling which faded when she saw he was serious. “There’s a place where the music is good.”