Easy

by Donna Alam

  The door to the lounge swings open suddenly, hitting the adjoining wall with a bang. I sit up abruptly, and if a stare could do such a thing, I’d surely be able to feel the holes Louise was burning into my soul.

  ‘What’s wrong—?’

  Something silk and pink lands in my lap.

  ‘Care to explain?’ Louise stands on the far side of the coffee table, one hand held on a cocked hip, her gaze venomous.

  Pink and silk turns out to be knickers—La Perla—which I move to the table sitting between us with a flick of my wrist.

  LOUISE

  ‘You know whose they are.’ His words were flat; his face, expressionless.

  ‘Do I fucking ever,’ I growl in response. ‘Do you want to tell me why they were under your pillow because none of the scenarios that spring to my mind are fucking healthy!’ That one last word echoes through the room.

  ‘Give me some credit,’ he drawls, sprawling back against the sofa and crossing his legs at his ankles. To outward appearances he seems calm. But for the pulse hammering in his throat. ‘Do I look that careless to you?’

  ‘Have you fucked her?’ I demand, ignoring his question.

  ‘Of course.’ Pain flares viscerally, and I suddenly feel sick. ‘We have a son; you’ve met him. But fucked her recently? No.’

  ‘Define not recently,’ I demand, pressing my hands on the table to stop me from pummelling him. ‘Last month. Last week? Yesterday?’ I yell.

  My grip on my temper feels non-existent. My head swims, and my heart aches. I suddenly understand what the word turmoil means. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—would he? Not like this? Yet the pair have a history, and history is apt to repeat itself.

  Dan’s eyes slide to the darkened window, and the suggestion of light from the streetlamp beyond.

  ‘Last year,’ he murmurs quietly. ‘In a very weak moment that I regret.’ His head turns back to me then. ‘But that was the last time.’

  Unfolding his legs, he rubs a hand against his smooth cheek.

  ‘She was in the house on Wednesday. Uninvited,’ he adds quickly. ‘The day I came to your office.’ My heart sinks to the soles of my feet, precisely where his eyes had descended to. ‘Nothing happened,’ he repeats. ‘But it shook me up. I wanted to hurt her. I was cold and indifferent.’ His eyes rise to mine, pain shining there. ‘It seemed to have the wrong effect.’

  ‘But you didn’t fuck her?’

  ‘No. Not for the lack of trying. Hers, not mine.’

  ‘But you wanted to fuck her.’ It wasn’t a question.

  ‘I wanted to fuck her up,’ he replies, staring at his hands.

  And that isn’t an answer, at least, not one with any satisfaction for either of us.

  My knees suddenly give way as I sink forward, my hands against the table’s surface the only thing stopping my collapse.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  DAN

  I stare at her bowed head, powerless. Is it strange that I can’t even bring myself to be angry with Belle? Not yet anyway, though it would undoubtedly come. I blame myself; how could I have been so stupid? This was exactly the sort of thing she’s capable of. I know her well enough, have known her long enough, yet I’d still managed to let her fuck up my life.

  And not for the first time.

  As she speaks, my attention is turned inward. Elsewhere. Cursing myself and wondering how I could make Louise believe me. She would leave me now, and there was nothing—fuck all—I could do about it. Because dominance doesn’t extend to kidnap.

  ‘Are you listening to me?’

  ‘I wasn’t,’ I admit, immediately regretting the response as Louise levels me with another evil glare. A look that I deserve. It’s the kind of look I enjoy treating as a transgression. That point, I suddenly realise, would never come now. I rub a hand through my hair, feeling wretched.

  ‘I’m sorry. I was too busy sitting here being shit scared. I don’t know what to say, other than I’m sorry, for every—’

  She cuts me off again.

  ‘Do you want to know what I think?’ Of course, I do. And I want her to recite the alphabet in every language of the world—for her to talk forever. For her to stay and forget that this is the end. But I don’t voice those thoughts, and she doesn’t wait for my answer, anyway.

  ‘I think she’s a fucking cunt, and naturally, someone who’s used to getting their own way. She’s like a small, spoilt child in need of a good slap.’ Her mouth firms with distaste, her hand open in the air. ‘And you, well, you’re just the man for the job, aren’t you?’ Her tone is uncomplimentary, but no less than I deserve. ‘I expect you’ve always been that for her.’

  I don’t reply. It doesn’t seem needed as she stands. I didn’t say how I longed to wrap my hands around Belle’s throat. And not in a good way. I didn’t ask what I could do to prove my fidelity.

  ‘But don’t flatter yourself. You’re just a toy she’s discarded.’ Her expression is more sneer than smile as she stands above me, indignation swirling about her like a cloak. ‘She doesn’t want you back, not really. She just doesn’t want anyone else playing with you. I know—at least, I can guess—I’m not the first woman since she left. But maybe I’m the first to hang around. To be invited to stay.’

  Her arms fell to her sides as I stand, reaching out for her. Fists balled, she snatches them away.

  ‘Don’t touch me, just . . . don’t.’

  LOUISE

  I leave the room and the front door open, more due to a lack of thought than any notion of a return. The evening is warm—not warm like home could be, but I welcome the pleasant breeze on my skin. God knows I could do with cooling down. When I’d begun this thing with Dan, it had been late spring. On the verge of summer now, I’d felt myself bloom along with it. Thanks to Dan, I’d been learning how to be comfortable in my own skin. Comfortable with its welts, bites, and bruises—the badge of honour I wear but not for him.

  Autumn was next on the calendar; could I bear for our relationship to grow brittle and brown along with it? Or would I end it now? Our lives parting at this spot?

  I’m still conflicted as I reach the garden gate.

  To the left stands a confrontation, a fight that could be a constant in the coming months. To my right stands an escape from it all; a return to my previous life. A boring norm. And behind me is Dan. Would he be my past or where my future stood?

  I hear him on the garden path, the soles of his highly polished shoes rough against the stones. He pauses halfway down; is he unsure of his approach or giving me space? I can almost see him without turning, hands in his pockets, feet planted firmly apart.

  My hands tighten on the cold metal of the gate as he begins to move again.

  ‘Don’t go.’

  It’s almost as though he were speaking to himself, his voice is so quiet. Emotion strangled those words, his lungs tight and without the capacity for breath. I hadn’t meant to allow him to touch me, but the need for this was so ingrained.

  It begins to rain—not in earnest, but one of those summer showers lasting mere seconds before moving on with the clouds. Drops glisten like tears on the skin of my bare arms as Dan’s fingers wipes them away. I don’t watch, unable to stand the sight.

  ‘Stay,’ he whispers.

  ‘But she’ll always be there, won’t she?’

  ‘I’ll move. Buy another house—our house.’

  ‘You would move from Hal?’ My laugh is rueful, and I feel him still. He wouldn’t. Shouldn’t. Not for me, at least. No, it was time to put up or shut up. Or get in the car and leave. It never would’ve lasted, anyway.

  I open the gate, his shoes scuffing behind me, his arms falling away.

  ‘I can’t live like this. It’s hard enough coming to terms with who I am, hard enough sharing my life with you, without some fucked-up bitch playing games with my head.’

  Yet my feet turn instinctively left.

  The door, painted pillar-box red, is solid under my fist. It opens to a hallway almost identic
al to Dan’s. The décor is different, a heavy brocade covering the walls, and was that an umbrella stand? It takes me a moment to move my gaze down.

  ‘Hal, honey, is your mom at home?’ The boy nods solemnly, his gaze, so like his father’s, seems to pierce my façade. But I won’t cry. Not now. ‘Could you ask her to come speak with me, then go see your dad? Tell him to look in my big bag upstairs. There’s a package in there with your name on front.’

  I thank divine providence for the arrival of the Legos I’d ordered, apparently released in the States a month before the UK. Hal had stared at the website covetously, complaining the piece wouldn’t be available here until the new school term had begun. I’d meant it as a surprise. I wished I could’ve delighted at the light in his eyes.

  Haste and excitement hurls the little boy down the hall where he disappears through a door. A moment later, he bounds back, shooting me a shy smile. Belle followed the boy, gliding along the hall rather languidly.

  ‘Can I help you?’ she drawls as Hal dashes down the garden path.

  ‘You sure as fuck can’t help yourself,’ I spit against my better judgment. I hadn’t planned on this. Any of it. Working on instinct seemed the only way.

  The bitch actually smiles, and for a moment, I almost forget I’m the non-violent kind.

  ‘Darling, I don’t know what my husband—’

  ‘Don’t even try. I know what this is, and I can read you like a smutty little book.’ Belle’s eyes glitter at my disdainful look. ‘The locks will be changed this week, and you’d better damn sure believe if I so much as get a whiff of your perfume in there, you’ll be feeling my right hook.’

  ‘You think you’re special? How sweet.’ Belle’s hand flutters in the air, and I long, suddenly, to snap it from the wrist. ‘Darling, the man is a whore—insatiable. He truly can’t help himself. He’d fuck you then fuck me without coming up for breath in between.’

  She looks like she’d actually enjoy that. Without so much as a ripple in my expression, I carry on.

  ‘You fucking wish. Step one foot in that house without an invitation and I’m fucking up your life. Do you really want copies of all those photographs sent to your family?’ The box on the top shelf of Dan’s closet. If he didn’t want me looking, he shouldn’t have left it there. ‘Your friends? Your colleagues?’ I let my eyes travel over her with contempt. ‘Pretty pink Belle . . . who’d imagine she’d like it rough and messy?’

  Belle’s face pales under her peach-coloured blush, no doubt recalling a nakedness covered in rope. Writhing against the bed, skin adorned by lipsticked insults, spittle, and cum. Bruised by anonymous fingertips and teeth.

  I’d seen the photographs. I’d looked at them all. Conflicted and jealous—a hundred more emotions that day.

  Gratified by her pained expression, I don’t wait for her response, but what happens next does so in a blur of motion as I step forward with an open palm. Gratified further, the colour back on at least one side of Belle’s face, I turn and head down the path, glad of the shrubbery shielding the houses in this very upper middle class neighbourhood.

  Dan steps into the street as I turn a right out of Charles’s garden gate. He stands back, expression guarded, almost surprised as I take another right, making my way along the garden path of his house.

  ‘Never underestimate a woman,’ I murmur as I pass. ‘You of all people should know we’re way more devious than we appear.’ As I reach the front door, I turn my head and ask, ‘How long do we have to wait for the cab?’

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  DAN

  I’m not sure what had been said at Charles’s door, but I’m pretty sure Louise had benefitted from some kind of satisfaction on its threshold. There was something about her posture as she stepped into the well-timed arrival of our cab, her back—always straight—was just a touch more so, and her chin a fraction higher held. I guess Louise’s response had been more than Belle bargained for. And at least a little, I hope, of what she deserved.

  From feeling as though I watched my future walk away, I’d held my breath as she’d reached the end of the garden path. Anything had to be better than watching her climb into her car. I’d been intrigued and hopeful as Hal had almost shot past me as I stood not moving yet feeling adrift. Almost catching the boy’s shoulder as he hopped onto the grass to avoid crashing into my legs, I’d asked in a voice that sounded almost calm, ‘Where did Louise go, son?’

  ‘TalkingtoMummy,’ Hal called in his haste as he tried to dodge my grasp. ‘She bought me Legos from America. She says I can go get the box from her bag.’ Hal halted at the open front door, his expression suddenly solemn. ‘Can we take her to Legoland when we go next month? She’s so cool.’

  Taken aback, I’d nodded dully. Legoland was supposed to be boys only; no women allowed. Two days of rides, burgers, and questionable hygiene practises at the behest of one six-year-old. No girls allowed for our days out. That had been the rule, even when I’d still been married to Belle.

  Hal had disappeared through the front door, almost tripping over the cat who seemed to glare balefully back at me. Could it be he wasn’t the only one smitten with this girl? Not girl, woman, I’d reminded myself. Intelligent, beautiful, and incredibly brave. Yet I’d remained paralysed in my indecision and progress, frozen to the gravel of the path.

  To follow Louise to her undoubted confrontation with Belle could only add oil to the incendiary situation. This, I felt, was absolute. I was screwed either way. Defend Louise and my ex would react in ways I didn’t care to think about. To encourage Louise to be the bigger person, to rise above Belle’s fucked-up ways would surely have the same effect, the parties reversed. A delighted ex, a pissed-off Louise. A leaving Louise, my fuck-up absolute.

  Her finger grazes mine, and I’m suddenly back in the cab. All had turned out well. For now. And I’m thankful. I have no idea what had been said, but a definite air of triumph exists in the darkened vehicle, even if it’s accompanied by my underlying sense of unease. I know from experince Belle will be far from done. But Louise had called it astutely: I’m the toy Belle didn’t want anyone else playing with.

  The irony was far from fucking lost on me.

  The cab pulled to a stop.

  ‘Are you all set?’ Her voice sounds almost too loud, too exuberant, yet her gaze falls short of mine, her free hand nervously twisting the garnet-studded cuff. Smiling, I hope, I tighten my grip on her other hand.

  ‘To meet the masses?’ I murmur, relieved for the distraction. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll behave.’

  ‘Oh, I know you will.’ Louise tilts her head, narrowing her eyes at me.

  ‘Or else?’ I ask, raising an enquiring brow.

  ‘You’d just better,’ she responds with a frown.

  My smile falls, but I try to salvage the situation, directing her back. ‘Sounds promising. In fact, that sounds decidedly like the promise of a spanking.’

  Perhaps, against her better judgment, she laughs.

  ‘Yeah, any shenanigans from you, and I’ll totally put you over my knee.’

  I watch her eyes flick rapidly to the mirror, further catching the cabbie’s gaze. I sense more than see her disconcertion then delightedly watched the resulting blush crawl across her chest.

  ‘I like bare hands best as far as implements go,’ I state a little loudly, hoping to keep her focus on something else. She opens her mouth to stutter an answer when I tilt my head and add, ‘Though the hairbrush was quite successful that time.’

  Her eyes dart around the cab—anywhere other than look at me or the mirror again. As she clears her throat, it brings my attention to the vein throbbing there. A tattoo of discomfort, and yes, lust, too.

  ‘Yes, w-well, enough of that,’ she stutters, adding unnecessarily, ‘look, we’re here.

  ~*~

  The hotel is some way out of the city in a country park that seems vaguely familiar. Louise straightens her dress, smoothing her hair with her free hand, her other still tightly held in mine.r />
  ‘Louise.’ I pull her back from the entrance, threading both hands around her waist. ‘Thank you. For not leaving. For believing me.’ She nods once but doesn’t answer, her eyes studying me carefully.

  ‘She’s a piece of work,’ she says frowning, her gaze sliding from mine. ‘I don’t know where this is going, but—’

  I smile, placing my finger against her lips. ‘Darling, if it’s up to me, this is going all the way.’ Her lips curve beneath my finger, but as I lower my hand, her smile falters.

  ‘Just don’t . . . do anything in there tonight. The people—’

  I slide her my best sardonic look before answering, ‘I am perfectly house trained.’ Threading her arm through mine, I lead her up the sandstone steps with a short laugh. ‘I’m hardly going to demand you kneel and give me head.’

  The party is dull, as Louise expected, and would probably remain so, at least until the alcohol began to take effect, though we’d determined we’d leave long before this stage. Clients and staff mill around the space as waiters in black aprons served morsels on china spoons. On her third glass of champagne, Louise’s eyes catch mine from across the room. Like a good beau, I’d engaged in conversation with a couple of department heads.

  As she watches me over the shoulder of her companion, I hold out my hand as though to slide it into my pocket, curling my fingers in an innocuous come here motion, one that only someone watching would see. Even from where she stands, I’m sure she can read the thoughts sliding behind my eyes. And the way my fingers curl as though between her legs. To anyone looking on, they’d be oblivious to the silent signals between us, unconcerned as Louise excuses herself from pleasantries, making her way to the grand entrance of the hotel.

  LOUISE

  Heated, as though lit by an internal furnace, my skin prickles all over, and I know exactly what I need to dampen the itch. I glance at my watch, wondering how much longer we’d have to endure the evening. How much longer it would be until Dan had fistfuls of my hair and was sinking himself into me, rasping his wicked compliments.