by Mary Birk
“I will be back, you delicious little whore.” He touched her mouth with his fingers. “I will show you how to properly thank me for all I am doing for you.”
Tabby cried until she thought she would never stop. Not just with anger and fear and hopelessness, but from the devastating realization that Peter must have arranged this. He didn’t love her after all.
* * * * *
Allison finished putting out the food, then walked around, pretending she was seeing everything for the first time. It looked pretty good. She realized she’d never given a party before. So this was her first, another new step in her new life. She only wished the guests weren’t her family.
Harry came in carrying a crate of drinks.
“You’ve been busy. The place looks great, and the food looks amazing.” He set the drinks down on the counter, and began unloading bottles. “What is all this?”
She felt herself preening a little under his praise and finished arranging things as she told him what food she’d prepared.
“Cheeses and meats, and breads and dips and things. This isn’t a heavy veggie group, but I put some of those out for the women. And sweets. I forgot to ask what you liked so I tried to guess at that as well from what I’ve seen you eat. Sausages and chocolate cake.”
Harry laughed. “That’s not quite fair. I eat other things.”
“I know, but I was thinking about party foods.” Allison gestured to the army of bottles he’d put out. “That’s an awful lot of booze. I need to pay you back for that. You already filled the fridge with lager and beer. It’s my family—my expense.”
“It’s my hide I’m protecting. You can buy the booze when my family comes to make sure my honor is safe.”
“Speaking of your honor, who’s your date tonight?”
“Rita. She’ll be over soon. As we’re hosting, she was good enough to offer to get herself here.”
“What happened to Bernice?”
“Siobhan. Bernice was before Siobhan.”
“Right. What happened to Siobhan?”
“Siobhan is the type of girl who wants to get married. I don’t. Rita wants to have fun and so do I. Worked out for all of us.”
“Sounds like it. You don’t think you’ll ever get married?”
He grinned. “Can you imagine me having to say ‘yes dear’ to some bird who caught me at a weak moment and trapped me into marrying her? Not for me. Not in a million years.”
She actually could imagine him married, with little ginger-haired children hanging on his shirttails, but that obviously wasn’t the right answer. “I guess not.”
“You look nice.”
“Thanks.” She’d decided on black jeans and a black sweater with her new boots. With her gold earrings, she thought she looked sophisticated but casual. Not trying too hard.
“Did you find some bloke to invite to our little soiree?”
She nodded. “I told you I would.”
“Who’s the lucky man?”
“Jack Shelton.”
Harry’s face lost its amiable expression. “You’re fucking kidding me?”
Allison was taken aback by his reaction. “No. What’s wrong with that?”
“How the hell did that happen?”
“He was in the office, and we were talking. I told him how awful my family had been and how you’d set this up but that I was needing an escort and he volunteered.”
Harry made a face. “Isn’t he a little old for you?”
“He’s not that old. About the same as the Super.”
“The Super is definitely too old for you—and married. You think Shelton will be able to mix with your family? He’s a bloody Yank.”
“He’ll be fine. It’s just a party. You’re the one they have a problem with, not him.” She flashed him a smile. “He’s only here for a short time—you live with me.”
“Correction, you live with me.”
SATURDAY, APRIL 10
Chapter 31
THE PARTY had been a success, Harry thought the next morning. Allison’s raging bull brothers had drunk and eaten their fill, solemnly inspected the lock and her rooms, and pronounced Harry a fine and safe landlord for their younger sister. They’d left happy, and all was well.
Rita hadn’t been as much fun as Harry had expected. She got along with the wives and girlfriends of Allison’s brothers, perhaps too well. He suspected marriage was on her mind, despite her lip service to only wanting to have fun.
Allison had looked great. He liked the look of the black jeans with the black sweater and high heels and wished Rita had worn something like that rather than the tight, low-cut dress she’d shown up in. She looked a little …well, cheap, compared to Allison.
Jack Shelton seemed to appreciate the way Allison looked, too. That had worked out well enough, then. Allison and Shelton left after the party to get a late supper somewhere. They’d invited him and Rita to join them, but Harry declined. He’d not really been in the mood for Rita to stay over, but he wasn’t able to figure out any way to get rid of her, so he made the best of it.
Harry left the sleeping Rita in his bed and went down to make tea. He was surprised to see Allison in the kitchen, making breakfast, humming as she worked, doing a little dance as she pushed a spatula around the fry pan. Generally, she hated mornings and never spoke much until they got to the office. This morning her hair was fixed, she had makeup on, and she wore tight blue jeans with a navy-blue jumper that also fit a little too close.
Apparently, a night with the American FBI agent had put a spring in her step. The lads who accused her of being a cocktease after not scoring with her, probably hadn’t come up to her standards for a bedmate. Harry wished it hadn’t been Jack Shelton, though. The guy still got up his nose.
He poured himself a mug of tea. “Eating again? I thought you had a late supper. You want to watch that you don’t get fat.”
“Don’t be a grouch. I’m making enough for you. Scrambled eggs?”
“Where’s your date?”
“I imagine he’s in his bed. Where’s yours?”
“Dead to the world upstairs. I’ll have some of those eggs if they’re really on offer.”
“Should I make more for Rita?”
He shook his head. “No breakfast, remember? Strict rule. Besides, she’s asleep.”
“Up to you. Toast?”
“I’ll make it.”
“Thanks. I’ll get the juice. The party went well, don’t you think?” Her curly hair poked out of the refrigerator, and he checked to see if she was wearing the earrings he liked. No, she’d switched them out for some gold studs. Still not bad.
“Yeah.”
“I don’t think I’ll need to fight my brothers again.”
“Good. Hopefully they won’t feel the need to kosh me either.”
“No, they think I’ve set my sights in other directions.”
Harry sipped his tea, and when the toast popped, buttered it, and sat down. “And was love a many splendored thing for you two?”
She leaned over him to put a plate of eggs in front of him. The jumper was definitely too tight on her. Would a concerned housemate mention that kind of thing to her?
“Get serious. Want preserves?”
No, he’d better not say anything about the jumper. Besides, if he kept his mouth shut, he could enjoy looking just like any other man. “Sure.”
As she heaped the rich strawberry preserves on his toast, she said, “Thanks again for the party. I love having my own place, and getting my family off my back feels absolutely liberating. I can finally have a life like . . . well, like you do.”
“You’re welcome.” He tucked into his breakfast, feeling comfortable and appreciated.
“More tea?”
He nodded. “Thanks. You going in to work today?”
“I thought I would for a bit. You?”
“Yeah. I’ll give you a ride.” Rita wouldn’t like it, but who cared?
“That would be great.”
“How long do you want to stay?”
“Just till noon. But you don’t need to worry about bringing me back. I’m meeting Jack at the Blythswood Square hotel restaurant for lunch. His flight leaves this afternoon.” She took a drink of her tea.
“In the restaurant—not up in his room?”
“I don’t need another brother, Harry. You were doing a pretty good imitation at being a friend until now. I didn’t say anything snarky about you having your lady up in bed here. Besides, you know he’s staying at the guv’s house.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. You must bring the older brother out in all us men.”
“Guess so.” She was quiet.
“Cheer up, duck. That’s not so bad, is it?”
“Harry?”
“Yeah?”
“I know people talk about me.”
“Talk about you?”
“Because I don’t make a habit of sleeping with everyone I go out with. I’m sure people say things.”
He shrugged. “Lads who strike out tend to be bitter. Everyone knows that. Don’t let it bother you.”
She poured herself another cup of tea. “I’ve never done it with anyone.” She looked at him anxiously, seeming to be waiting for his reaction.
Harry wasn’t sure he understood. “Struck out?”
Her voice was so quiet he could hardly hear her. “Gone to bed with anyone.”
Comprehension dawned on him and he had a rare moment of not being able to think of anything to say.
“I know, it’s appalling. I’m a virgin, like those girls we’re looking for, just not so young, and not American.” She stood up, taking her mug with her. “I’ll grab my things and be ready to go when you are. And Harry,” she paused, “If you tell anyone what I told you, or even act like you remember I told you it, I’ll break my hand on your jaw. You know I will.”
He nodded and drank his tea, then went upstairs and scooted Rita out of the house.
On the drive to the office, he thought about what she’d told him, and wondered if that was why she didn’t seem to go out much. He always got laid on the first date. He picked girls he knew would put out. Not like Allison. Allison was a nice girl—no, a good girl. He thought about the joke they’d all laughed about at school. What’s the difference between a good girl and a nice girl? A good girl goes out on a date, goes home, and goes to bed. A nice girl goes out on a date, goes to bed, and then goes home. Allison was a good girl. Harry went out with nice girls.
If she didn’t do the deed, what exactly did she do on dates? Apparently enough to get guys hot and bothered. He wished she hadn’t told him her secret. Too much information. They needed to keep their private lives separate. This house-sharing arrangement was working well but any wrong move could queer things here and at work. He decided not to think about it; it was too weird to go there. She was his tenant and his co-worker.
“Harry, you won’t tell anyone, will you?”
“If you want to save it for when you get married, or whatever, it’s no one’s business but your own. I’m sorry I hassled you.”
“That’s the problem. I don’t really want to save it. I mean at first I did, that was the point, not for marriage so much as for someone special. But no one came along, and now it’s like there’s no way to get rid of it without looking ridiculous.”
He gave a noncommittal grunt and kept his eyes on the road, wishing the traffic would loosen up, and that they’d get to the office before this conversation went on any further.
“Like what happened with Eddie. I wanted to, and I let him do more than I probably should have. And I probably did more than I should have. But I stopped things, because I didn’t want him to know. Of course, he didn’t understand.” She paused. “The same thing happened with Ian, and with every other guy I’ve liked. It goes great until it doesn’t go any farther.”
“No doubt.” Hence, he thought, her reputation. “Speaking as a friend, if you’re sending out mixed signals, you’re going to have problems.”
“If I sleep with Eddie, he’ll find out he’s my first, and what if he tells people? It would be all over CID.”
Not just CID, he thought, all over the whole Strathclyde police force. Harry was more uncomfortable with this conversation than he’d ever been with any conversation in his life. Why was she confiding in him? He was not a warm, fuzzy kind of bloke. Girls didn’t confide in him, and he was fine with that. What did she expect him to say?
She cleared her throat. “So, I was thinking, the kitchen really needs to be painted a brighter color.”
He turned to look at her. He must have missed something. “It does?”
“Yes. Anyway, if I agree to paint the kitchen, will you do it? You don’t have to finish or anything, just get the first part over. Then no one will be able to tell.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Harry, this isn’t an easy thing for me to ask. Don’t make me say it again.”
“You want me to do part of painting the kitchen? What’s wrong with the color it is now?” And what happened to the other subject, he wondered.
“Honestly, you don’t have to act thick. If you won’t do it, say so. I’ll find someone else.”
“I’m not following you, pet.” He glanced over at her, then back at the road in front of him. It wasn’t like Allison to get close to tears over something like paint.
“I’m asking you for two minutes of your time, then you can pull up your pants and leave.”
He was gobsmacked. He pulled into the parking space near their High Street office that miraculously appeared just in time. He wasn’t sure he could have concentrated enough to keep driving.
“Will you?”
“You’re out of your bleeding mind. You’re a fecking virgin.”
“Great. See, even you don’t want to have to deal with it, and you shag anything that moves. I’m a freak.” She bit her fingernail. “Michaud it is then, I guess. I’ll call him and apologize. No matter what, I’m getting it done this weekend. I’ll just have to hope he keeps his mouth shut.”
He swallowed. “I do not shag anything that moves. What’s the rush?”
“Rush? Harry, I’m twenty-three years old and I can’t go to bed with anyone no matter how much I want to, because if I do, they’ll know it’s my first time. That might be okay until you’re eighteen, but now, it’s freaky.”
He turned off the car and leaned his head against the backrest. “It’s not freaky. Not common, maybe, but it’s not terrible.”
She stared out the window, starting now on another fingernail. “Blokes have it so easy. No one can tell with them.”
He closed his eyes. His first time had been a birthday gift to him courtesy of his youngest uncle. He’d been twelve and the prozzy’s name had been Violet. His father had probably known about it, but nothing was ever said. Allison probably got a gold locket for her twelfth.
“Harry?”
“What?” He kept his eyes shut.
“I know this would be a great story to tell the lads round the pub. But don’t, okay?”
“No.” Still keeping his eyes shut, he thought about her dilemma.
She had a point. If he’d been a bloke interested in her, the whole virgin thing would have thrown him off. He’d never been with a girl for her first time, and he sure didn’t want to start deflowering virgins now. But Michaud? She had good instincts about that. Michaud would probably keep his mouth shut as long as they were dating, though if Allison ever broke up with him, who knew? But if Harry agreed to do what she was asking, it could potentially screw up not just their relationship as workmates, but as housemates as well. What was his choice? Let her down?
She jabbed him on the arm with her fist. “Harry, say something. I feel like an idiot.”
He opened his eyes, and turned to her. “What color were you thinking of painting the kitchen?”
“Really?” Her face lit up.
“I’ll pick up the paint after I finish here and you can start tomorro
w. Tonight we’ll take care of the other, unless you come to your senses.”
She smiled. “You’re a mate, Harry. Thanks.” She gave his arm a quick squeeze, then sat back.
“I don’t know why I’m agreeing to this. I have a feeling that you’re going to regret it, and I’m going to get the blame.”
“I promise I won’t blame you. No matter what happens.”
“Right. You keep your mouth shut about it, too. No one can know about this.”
“Deal.”
She was quiet for a moment. Was she having second thoughts? He hoped she was, but when he stole a glance in her direction, he recognized the satisfied look she always got when she had a plan in mind.
“I’ll cancel with Jack. I should go with you to pick out the paint. We’ll need two pots at least.”
* * * * *
He was being so sweet. Allison hadn’t expected that. He’d brought a bottle of cold white wine and two glasses down to her room. He poured them each a glass while she double-folded a big towel and laid it on top of the bottom sheet.
“I don’t want to get blood on my brand-new mattress.”
“Good thinking.” Harry handed her a glass of wine. “It’s best if you’re relaxed.”
“I am so far from relaxed, you wouldn’t believe it.”
“Drink some of that, then.” He took a drink of his own wine. “I’m a little nervous myself, to tell the truth.”
“Should we have music?”
He nodded. “Music is good.” He went over to her CD player and picked out some music, then hit play.
“Good choice. I like that one.”
“I figured. It’s your CD.” He moved toward her. “Relaxed yet?”
“No.”
“Let’s get undressed, then get in bed. That’s the part that’s making you nervous.” He reached for her shirt, pulled it over her head. Wrapping his arms around her, he unhooked her bra. She felt his hands move around from her back to her breasts, then his body hardened where it pressed against her.