Bad Girl

by Sarah Michelle Lynch

  I laugh to myself because I doubt it was like this when Susan was living here. From the front door you can see right to the back of the house, the eyeline able to take in the kitchen and dining area, which is currently disgustingly filthy and covered in old takeaway cartons and empty beer bottles.

  To my right there’s a closed door which when opened reveals a living room. Above the fireplace there’s a discoloured square shape in the wallpaper where a picture once hung. In fact, as I look around, I don’t see any pictures up whatsoever. All the wedding photos have either been removed by Susan or Adam himself, once she left. Who knows? Maybe she took them as a memento.

  Still, I can see why he keeps the door closed on this room. It’s furnished in a feminine way, with some basic cushions dotted around the sectional seating, then some furry ones and fluffy ones. This room, with its bay window, must get the light during the day – hence the discolouration on the wall. It’s a bright room, the floral wallpaper on the chimney breast making it a feature wall that really sets off the rest of the room. Say what you want, but Susan had taste. I go back and make sure the front door is locked, then carry my handbag with me as I head upstairs.

  “Hello?” I call, as I head up. “Hello?”

  I pass two bedrooms, one of which is decorated in warm tones, the other in cool tones. The cooler-toned bedroom is definitely the one Paul is currently occupying, with his clothes strewn everywhere, empty packets of fags left lying around – his guitar stood in the corner with a couple of strings broken and the bed unmade, possibly for weeks now.

  “Hello?” I call again.

  “Up here,” Adam calls, and I see a fixed staircase leading to the attic.

  When I get upstairs, the stench is unmistakable. They’ve been eating curry up here and drinking beer. It smells like they may have been farting but also that the curry may have been repeating on them.

  “Hey girl,” Paul says, getting up from his beanbag and striding to me.

  He wraps both arms around my shoulders in a half-hearted, typically Paul hug – not too close, but close enough I’m meant to know he cares.

  “You two are so gross,” I tell him, punching his shoulder playfully. “What’s going on up here?”

  Paul’s wearing his jeans and t-shirt thing, nothing new there, but Adam is wearing his pyjamas with a robe over the top, the belt untied. Oh dear.

  “We’re just chilling,” Adam says, “finished for the day earlier, now we’re chilling.”

  “Yeah, finished what?” I ask.

  Paul passes me a beer from the fridge in the little kitchen and I take the beanbag he was just occupying while he pulls over a chair. Meanwhile Adam is sitting in his big gaming chair with a ton of levers and slots for all kinds of things like remotes, controllers, drinks bottles… you name it. He could stay in that thing for days quite happily, I imagine.

  “Our latest YouTube instalment.”

  “You’re making money off that?” I ask them both, seeing Paul, who nods coolly.

  “We’re making some,” Adam admits, “the number of subscribers keeps increasing. I’m still doing the odd bit of proofing and stuff but we’re actually making cash, yeah. I’ve been able to start paying Paul his share.”

  I shake my head at Paul, who looks fat but happy. He’s carrying a beer belly and trying to hide it beneath a baggy shirt. He’s letting himself go. He’s given up, I reckon, his beard even thicker than it was before… maybe to hide the number of chins he’s sporting now.

  “You had much interest in the house?” I ask Adam, who’s just messing around on some fantasy game, his character getting into some scrape or other.

  “Some, not much. Reckon it’s the wrong time of year.”

  “It’s a nice place but a bit of a crappy area. It might be out of people’s price range round here. Looks like you’ve done a load of improvements.”

  Paul laughs at me. “He’s already priced it low to get rid of it. It’ll shift once the weather improves and people feel in the mood.”

  “Yeah, as long as you clean up before people view, right?”

  “Don’t worry, he WILL,” Paul insists, “he wants rid of this place.”

  “I don’t know, it’s alright, isn’t it? You’ve got plenty of room. Must be a good kitchen for cooking and entertaining in, right?”

  “Sure,” Adam agrees, “I’m just ready to move on, Chlo. You know?”

  “I see. Yeah.”

  Paul looks across at me with those knowing eyes and a stooped appearance I recognise as intrigue. He’s figuring out why I’m here.

  “How’s Cole?” he asks.

  “He’s good,” I tell Paul. “I’m considering moving out there permanently. Cole wants to get married.”

  Adam and Paul look at one another in shock.

  “Married? You?” Paul asks, eyes wide.

  “Why not? He’s amazing. He changed my life.”

  Paul shakes off his doubts while Adam’s game goes on pause.

  “I think that’s brilliant, if that’s what you want,” Paul says.

  “It’s really good news,” Adam agrees, still not going back to his game as the lads share some sort of bewilderment, looking at one another for some kind of reassurance they aren’t imagining this.

  “What is it? I mean, come on, do you not think I could hold down a marriage or something?”

  “It’s not that, Chlo,” Adam says, “it’s just… I don’t know, doesn’t seem your style.”

  “Well, when the right person comes along.”

  “Yeah,” Paul says, looking forlornly at the floor, like he had the right person… and threw it away. I don’t want to be like him.

  “I’ve gotta piss,” Paul says, tossing his empty bottle in the bin and going downstairs to the loo.

  Adam still hasn’t restarted his game and gets up out of his seat, crossing the room to the kitchen area, where he finds himself a can of coke and cracks it open.

  “How’s the divorce going?”

  “It’s almost through,” he says, “which is why I’m glad the house hasn’t sold yet.”

  “But she won’t contest it?”

  “She says she won’t, but who knows?”

  “Dirty last-minute tricks?”

  He shrugs, leaning back against one of the dividing walls. “It’s just been too easy so far, like she’s glad to be rid of me. It makes me feel uneasy because things were never straightforward.”

  “And what about him?” I gesture with my thumb over my shoulder, back to that hairy mess of a man that just went downstairs.

  “I know what you think.” He gives me that classic Adam smile, one of surrender, and admits, “But I’m trying to help him. He just needs a friend. He’s a bit lost.”

  “He’s a bum, Ads. He’s a fucking bum.”

  I look behind me and feel relieved he’s not within earshot, and also, Adam’s glad of that, too. He looks at me with a warning to watch what I say.

  “Yeah, but he’s my bum,” Adam admits. “And if I can help him at all, I will.”

  “And what about you, eh? Going through this divorce. You’re not helping each other. It won’t turn out well.”

  He looks pissed off suddenly. “Yeah, well… maybe I need someone who’s not going to judge me.”

  I frown deeply. “I wouldn’t judge you. Lily wouldn’t. Theo wouldn’t. We’ve all been here for you. This…” I gesture around the room and at the state of their living arrangements. “…it looks a little like you’ve given up.”

  “You don’t know what I mean,” he says.

  “Try me.”

  “What happened to me isn’t going to go away overnight, that’s how it is. It’s so easy for the rest of you to condemn and hate her, but not for me. I’ve tried to contact her so we can get closure but she wants nothing to do with me because of you and your interfering. If you hadn’t gone and found fucking Markos, she wouldn’t have run off… I might have been able to get her some help.”

  I slap him around the head so hard,
my hand feels like it’s going to drop off afterwards.

  Paul walks in on us, having just heard what happened, and walks right back out again – his face a picture of ‘I don’t want get involved’. I fling the door shut on the room and round on Adam.

  “I met this guy Markos and I can tell you for certain, if you met him too, you’d see exactly what I did. He’s a broken fucking bastard. He can’t see his kid because the mother hates him because of the debts he’s still paying off because of Susan and all the lies and the sneaking around they had to do… to protect themselves from that psycho. He’s a gibbering wreck, Adam. He’s a simpleton, yeah, but he’s a fucking gibbering sodding wreck. We all know why she’s not bothered about the money in this house, don’t we?”

  He shakes his head, still sore from my slap. “No. I don’t. I don’t.”

  “She’ll take the cut in money if it means she can fuck with your head making you wonder why she’s given it up so easily. I see this all the fucking time, Adam. You’re so naïve. Too well-meaning. Maybe she did love you, you know… I can see she maybe did, in her own unique and twisted way, but fucking hell, mate… she told you that you were infertile.”

  “She’s sick,” he moans, rubbing his face.

  “Come on! Adam! Let it go! Money doesn’t mean anything to her. She knows how to get more. She’s probably already zeroing in on her next victim. She doesn’t care about money, she only cares about the ways in which she can manipulate people. By making you think she does have a soul after all, she’s getting exactly what she wants… a guy who can’t let go because he feels like he wronged her… for her to take off like that, you must have wronged her… am I right?”

  He gulps and sits down in his chair again, holding his head in his hands. “I’m fucked up, Chloe. I am.”

  “Yes, you need help. You do. And it’s not your fault, none of it. She’s done the most hideous things to you. It’s bound to be affecting you still, even all these months later.”

  “Yep.” He shakes his head, angry at himself.

  I kneel next to him, my hand on his knee. “Theo told me his flat is free, why don’t you take it?”

  He blinks fast. “He’s mad with me.”

  “Let me square it with him. He’ll listen to me.”

  “What about Paul?” He lifts his eyes to mine and I see he’s upset.

  “I love him, too but we have to do what we have to do. You have to go to London, get back into work, real work… start being out there again, socialising… find something new. Find ways to let go. Find a shrink, find a new love. Come on, Ads. Cut the apron strings. The only way he’s gonna get better is if he hits rock bottom. You can’t carry him and yourself. That’s not fair. This isn’t the person you are, I know it isn’t.”

  Slobbing around his own house… making YouTube videos… hiding away. Not getting any sunlight.

  “You’d talk to Theo, then? Smooth things over.”

  “Of course, yes. I need to pay them a visit anyway. I haven’t seen the baby in ages.”

  He nods, happy to be reminded that at least someone had a baby out of all of this.

  “What do I tell Paul?” he groans.

  “You’ve got to remember who was there for you when it was all going to shit. It sure as hell wasn’t Paul, was it?”

  He slaps a hand against his forehead. “I hate this. I’m pulled in so many different directions. Theo is my bud, but so is Paul.”

  “Is he, though? Look at the state of this place.” I gesture around the room at all the trash up here, not to mention all the stuff downstairs and in Paul’s bedroom. “What he did to Lily is a cardinal sin. You just don’t do it, Adam. Not to such an old friend and someone he was meant to love. You just don’t realise how he might be rubbing off on you, too. I had to fly halfway around the world to get my mother out of my system.”

  “This is different,” Adam fires back, “Paul’s not your mother. He’s not perfect, but he’s not your mother.”

  He turns in his chair to look the other way and I turn him back, taking to my feet again.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Adam’s eyes dart around, then he says, “I just mean, Paul’s a victim.”

  “Everyone’s a victim,” I retort, “until you’re not. Until you take charge and you’re not.”

  “True,” he admits, “but it’s not the same thing, trust me.”

  I shrug and collect my bag off the floor. “See me out, Adam. You owe me that.”

  I head downstairs, Adam hot on my heels in his dressing gown and pyjamas, which he’s probably been in for days.

  We get into the hallway when we hear a crashing sound from the kitchen.

  “What the—” Adam heads towards the noise and I follow.

  We find Paul holding a black bin bag, throwing stuff into it in an aggressive manner, a look on his face that could scare thunder.

  “Err, what’s going on?” asks Adam.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll clean up my shit and be gone.”

  He’s furiously tidying up and on the verge of tears. Adam and I look at one another. So, it’s clear he overheard our conversation.

  “There’s no rush,” Adam bellows, trying to sound light-hearted about the whole thing.

  “Did you just come here tonight to fuck us up?” He shoots me daggers and I feel frightened. I’ve seen Paul like this before… when he’s drunk and ramped up on adrenalin, he’s so quick to anger if provoked. “We were doing fine before you came along.”

  “Nope, I came because, actually, I wanna know what this fucking secret is you’ve all got.”

  “How the hell did you know about that?” Adam almost screeches.

  I fold my arms. “I have my sources.”

  “What’s Theo said?” Paul asks in a tired tone, his head heavy on his shoulders

  “Theo didn’t say anything.”

  Adam throws himself into action helping Paul tidy up and I get the distinct impression he’s helping Paul to finish up quickly so he can get rid of him or mollify him or something.

  “Come on, mate. You can stay until you get yourself sorted, but we can’t do this forever, we’ll drive each other nuts. I’ll help you set up somewhere, you could get a place of your own in London. Get a job. We could be boys on the town again.”

  Paul drops the bag to the floor and draws his fingers into fists, shaking out his arms like he’s preparing to hit something… or someone.

  “Don’t patronise me, okay? I know when I’m not wanted,” he growls.

  Adam steps back and warns me to stay put, the concern in his eyes real.

  “So, are you gonna tell her then, or not?” Paul lifts his bloodshot eyes to Adam’s and his face contorts with some kind of sick glee. “Or shall I?”

  “I think you’d better go and start packing,” Adam says, taking his last resort.

  Anything to keep this secret hidden.

  “Look at him,” Paul growls. “Look at the state of him. Scared. I mean, fuck, how did he not see she was five years older? How did he not see she was fucking damaged? Nobody could hide that kind of disease. When me and Lily were together, I knew every inch of her body inside and out. If she’d been sick, I would have fucking known.”

  “Get out,” I bark at Paul. “Go on, get out!”

  “Or, what? What? Hmm? Gonna get the police onto me, are you?” Paul laughs madly and it becomes clear how drunk he is. He’s probably been slowly drinking all day, but now emotions are high, he’s unable to hide how much he’s had. “Come on, Chloe. What are you going to do?”

  “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do,” Adam says, “I’m going to call Theo and give him the green light to come up here and reduce you to a bag of pulp. And I’m gonna grin with glee when you’re carted off to hospital with every bone in your body broken or smashed to smithereens. Because that’s what you deserve. Now, get out. GO!”

  Paul smiles sadistically, his eyes red and cheeks pale. “Whatever.”

  He marches upstairs and we
hear him banging about, the floorboards creaking, drawers and cupboards being wrecked as he pours everything out of them and into his bags or whatever it is he’s decided to cart away his stuff in.

  I put the kettle onto boil while we wait and find a pot noodle in the cupboard.

  “I’ve eaten,” he says.

  “I know, but I haven’t.”

  “Make us a cuppa, Chlo,” he says in such a warm tone of voice, like we’ve always been the best of friends, like we always will be.

  If only I believed that.

  “Milk and sugar?”

  “Just a bit of each,” he murmurs.

  Eventually, as my pot noodle is stewing and the tea is poured, we hear his heavy footsteps trudging down the stairs, two big bags in his hands which he drops in the hallway.

  He doesn’t even turn to say goodbye as he grabs his coat, chucks it on and leaves the house.

  “Fucking hell,” Adam groans, sitting by the kitchen island on a stool, head in his hands.

  I sit by him eating my pot noodle. “He’s fucking toxic.”

  “How do I collect these fools?” he asks me. “How? Susan, Paul… How? I don’t… it’s exhausting.”

  I put my hand on his arm. “You’ve always been okay, you always will be. Just trust in that.”

  He sinks his tea quietly while I devour my pot noodle… I’m so hungry. I only hope this thing is in date, I didn’t check.

  “So, Cole doesn’t seem to like me very much,” he almost whispers, perhaps scared to broach the subject.

  “He knows we have history.”

  “A very long time ago,” he adds, turning to eye me with cynicism.

  “Yep. A long time ago.”

  “So, what’s his big deal? At the cinema… he looked pissed off.”

  “He’s just possessive.”

  Adam shakes his head. “It was more than that. Like he thinks I’m a threat. First it was Susan warning you off, now it’s him throwing shade at me.”

  “Firstly, it doesn’t suit you to use young people’s terminology, secondly, he wasn’t. It was his last night here and he didn’t want to waste time hanging about with you and Paul. He just wanted to get me home.”

  Adam lays his hands flat on the kitchen island and leans on his elbows, really looking at me for the first time today, his blue eyes serious and with that soft, intense gaze he’s always had for me. “What is it that makes people think we still have something? Because I don’t see it.”