‘What do you do?’ he asks her, when they go back to the bar for another drink.
‘I’m a waitress.’ She doesn’t ask him, but takes her drink, swallows it down in one and grabs him and kisses him. Johnny is not taken aback by the teenage nature of the snog – he doesn’t care. This is all helping him.
‘Can I take you home?’ he says, realising that the music is giving him a headache and he is really too drunk. She nods and leads him out.
The first blast of the night air injects a tiny bit of sobriety into him. He looks at her again as they wait for a cab. She is overweight, her legs squeezed into a tiny skirt. Her hair is dyed blonde, and it is not a sophisticated style. Her make-up is clumsy and too brash to compliment her. Her shoes are too high and her fat feet are pouring out of them. She is not attractive to him; therefore she is.
A cab stops and Sally gives him her address. Johnny gets in after her and puts his hand on her thigh. They go back to their kiss.
There are a number of reasons that he finds himself with her. One is that he is drunk. The second is that she kissed him. The third is that he has nowhere else to go.
Her flat is shared and reminds him of days when he first moved to London. There are no signs of any flatmates, but the place is depressing. It is messy, but she does not apologise for this. As soon as they are in the sitting room, she is sexily dancing towards him, but she is hot sexy. He knows what he needs. He walks up to her and grabs her, like he means it.
‘Your bedroom.’ It is a command. She looks delighted as she leads him there.
The bedroom has a double bed, a wooden wardrobe and a mirror in it. It is tidy, unlike the rest of the flat, but also small. He feels as if he is regressing; this is a university type of bedroom, not one for grownups. Not like Grace’s, or like his and Betty’s. The thoughts make him even more angry. He kisses her hard, and then undoes her top. It is not easy pulling it off her, and they wrestle before it is free. He unclips her bra, which is too small, and watches, with a teenage glee, when her huge boobs spring free. As he kisses and teases the nipples she squeals in delight. It is not long before they are both naked.
He tells himself that she is sexy, but he no longer finds her sexy. She isn’t attractive, but he tells himself she is. There is something sordid about the way he pushes her head to his crotch, but she loves it and when he reciprocates, burying his head in a tangle of pubic hair and thigh flesh, she orgasms for him. It is her gratitude that makes him decide to continue. He is nauseous from both her and the drink, but she thanks him over and over again for pleasing her, which makes him feel like a man. The bitches took away his balls, but Sally will give them back.
Sex is rough, both clawing at each other, in desperation rather than passion. Finally, they are finished and he kisses her and turns over.
He was so detached from the act, even when he came. Afterwards he lies close to the edge of her small double bed, wishing he were anywhere but there. But he has nowhere else to go.
As soon as the sun makes an appearance he wakes up and sees that she is snoring next to him. His head pounds and all the memories come flooding back. She is not as unattractive as he told himself she was last night, but she is no beauty. He looks at her one last time, feeling rotten, feeling awful, feeling like a cad, before he grabs his clothes, puts them on and leaves.
It is only six in the morning, and he cannot remember where he is. He walks the streets, which are eerily quiet, before he sees a postcode sign and realises that he is really close to Grace’s flat. This depresses him further. He does the only thing he can think of. He finds a taxi, and goes to Matt’s.
He uses the key Matt gave him to get in, and he goes to the bathroom, to shower. By the time Matt and Alison get up he is sitting in the kitchen drinking juice.
‘Are you all right?’ Alison asks.
‘I’ve got a hangover the size of London.’
‘Where were you?’ she continues.
‘With a friend.’ She doesn’t believe him, but there is nothing she can do. All three of them leave for work, with depression sitting in their pockets.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Johnny feels awful until he gets to the office, where a new kind of awful overtakes him. He cannot feel guilty about Sally, or revulsion at the way he used her, because it is their fault. It is time for them to pay. He calls Matt.
‘I’m doing it. I’m confronting them.’
‘OK.’ Matt has no arguments to give.
‘There’s no time like the present. I’m going to call them.’
‘Now I know you feel nervous about this. You never use wanky phrases like “there’s no time like the present”.’
‘That obvious?’
‘Transparent.’
‘Well, I am nervous, but I don’t know why.’
‘Call me after.’
‘I will.’
Betty is watching daytime TV when the phone rings. She immediately snatches it up, hoping it is Johnny. It’s been two days.
‘Hi,’ she says.
‘It’s me.’ He sounds cold, but at least it is his voice.
‘Oh, Johnny. Thank God.’ She falters. ‘Did you read the letter?’
‘I want to meet you. Tonight.’ He gives her the name and address of a bar.
‘OK. Great, what time?’ She cannot hide her excitement. She believes it must be the letter that has brought this about, even though he still sounds a little cold.
‘Eight.’ He hangs up.
Betty jumps up arid even though it is not yet lunchtime she goes to choose what she will wear.
Johnny is sweating. Despite the fact that he is the wronged man, he feels guilty because Betty obviously thought he wanted to talk to her following the letter that he’s only half read. Be a man, he tells himself as he wipes his forehead and picks up the phone again.
Grace answers the phone after the first ring. ‘Hello.’
‘It’s me.’
Despite everything Oliver said, she feels so many emotions hearing his voice. ‘Oh, Johnny.’ She has no idea what to say.
‘I need to see you.’
‘You do? Is it the letter?’ She is elated and surprised. Maybe Oliver was wrong and, despite the lies, Johnny still loves her.
‘Tonight, eight o’clock at a bar called Barnie’s.’
‘Fine, but where is it?’ Johnny gives her the address and hangs up.
Grace leaves the flat to meet Nicole with new hope. She is going to see him and she just knows that he is going to tell her he loves her.
Johnny feels the sweat intensify. He calls Matt. ‘Matt speaking.’
‘It’s me. I did it. They’re meeting me tonight.’
‘How did they sound?’
‘Happy.’
‘Oh.’
‘I know. But I have to do this. I need it.’
‘I understand, mate.’ But Matt is terrified all the same.
‘Alison, guess what. He called me.’
‘He did? What did he say?’
‘He wants to meet me tonight. Barnie’s. It has to be a good sign, doesn’t it?’
‘Don’t get your hopes up. He’s probably still angry.’ She doesn’t add that she has no idea where he was last night, and that he was acting suspicious when he got in.
‘I know but at least we’re meeting, that’s got to be a good thing, hasn’t it?’
‘I hope so.’ Alison really does hope so.
‘So I’m seeing him tonight.’ Grace is on the phone to Nicole.
‘You are?’
‘Yeah, at eight. He called up and said he needed to speak to me.’
‘Hopefully not another showdown.’ Nicole is anxious.
‘No, I’ve got a good feeling about this.’
‘I hope you’re right.’
‘Nicole, don’t worry.’
‘I was hoping that Oliver would have helped you.’
‘He did. He told me I should fix their marriage, but if Johnny really loves me then I can’t fix it, can I?’
> ‘I guess not,’ Nicole replies, feeling inside that this meeting is not what Grace thinks it is.
Johnny is there early. He is drinking lager, and waiting. So far he feels composed, although he is still unsure what he is going to say. He wants to hurt them, he thinks, to get rid of some of his anger, because it is the anger that he can’t cope with. The hurt he can, but not the anger, which is knotting him up inside and ensuring he cannot concentrate on anything.
Betty walks in first. He sees her and feels a pang. He remembers everything he loves about her, before the anger pushes it away. She walks up to him, and smiles. He does not smile back.
‘Drink?’ he asks.
‘White wine, please?’ She looks at him hopefully but he is giving nothing away.
Betty is sipping her drink and doesn’t notice him turn to face the door. When Johnny sees Grace walk in, he remembers why he feels so much for her. She sees him, smiles and walks over. It is not long before the smile freezes on her lips as she sees Betty, at the exact same time that Betty sees her. They look at each other and then turn to Johnny.
‘I thought that maybe we three could have a chat,’ he says, asking the barman for another glass and handing it to a very shocked Grace.
Johnny walks over to a newly vacated table, but Grace and Betty stay rooted to the spot.
‘I don’t believe it,’ Betty says.
‘I had no idea,’ Grace says. Johnny looks at them, and they slowly make their way over.
Betty doesn’t even know if her legs are working. All the hope she had has gone. Grace’s hand is shaking as she carries her drink. She is unsure what it is about, but a declaration of love is obviously not on the cards. This meeting has nothing to do with the letter.
‘So, I guess I don’t need to introduce you,’ Johnny says. He knows that he doesn’t sound like himself, as he hears the coldness in his voice, but he doesn’t feel like himself. And they have done this to him. Suddenly the anger leaves him as he looks at the two women and feels empty. Betty, who he knew so well until this happened, and Grace, who he thought he knew but never really did.
‘Johnny?’ Betty asks.
‘I wanted us all to meet, together. Maybe you could both tell me why you thought you would play with me. You,’ he points at Grace, ‘well, you hurt me, but you,’ he points at Betty, ‘you married me. So why would you do this?’ He finds his words inadequate and realises that he has made a mistake. He doesn’t want to be in the bar with them, he doesn’t want to see either of them. Everything that they have done to him flows through his mind, and his body. He wants to cry. To crumple up into a ball.
‘I am sorry. I didn’t think you’d fall for her,’ Betty says, her only defence.
‘I didn’t think I’d fall in love with you,’ Grace adds, her only defence.
Johnny feels the walls closing in on him. He has to get out, he can’t cope. He looks at Betty, the woman he married, the woman he loves, and he looks at Grace, the woman he thought he loved but the one he doesn’t know.
‘I hate you both for what you’ve done to me. And I will never ever forgive you,’ he says before getting up and leaving. It is not what he planned, not what he wants, but it is all he can do.
He walks as fast as he can until he gets to Matt’s house. He rings the doorbell, unable to get his hand in his pocket to get the key. Matt answers.
‘What happened?’ he asks, fearing the worst.
‘You were right. I couldn’t, couldn’t do anything.’ They both walk in. He tells Matt what happened, shaking quite violently. Matt pours him a drink and sits him down.
‘You left them there?’
‘I had to get out. I couldn’t cope.’
‘I understand.’
‘Even my anger wasn’t enough. Nothing is enough. Matt, what am I going to do?’
Matt doesn’t have any answers. Alison walks in, having been at work late. She looks at Johnny and at Matt, and gestures for Matt to join her in the kitchen.
‘What happened?’
Matt explains.
‘Oh shit, why did he think it was a good idea for him to meet them both?’
‘He’s angry, Ali. He’s not exactly thinking straight.’
‘I know. Listen, I’ll try to get hold of Betty. You take him home.’
‘What if she’s there?’
‘Then you can come back here and I’ll go over, but she might come here and he will be there. I’ll try to call her and track her down.’ Alison walks to the phone and calls Betty’s mobile. She leaves a message. Then she calls their house and again leaves a message. She walks back into the living room and shakes her head.
‘OK, mate, let’s go home.’ Johnny looks at Matt, but doesn’t argue. He obediently gets up and follows Matt out. Even if it’s not his home any longer, it is his territory, it was his home and it is familiar. He needs to check on Cyril; he had forgotten about Cyril. If Betty is there then he will leave, and maybe, if anger returns, he will throw her out.
Alison sinks down on the sofa, tired from the emotions that are flying around, and she tries to call Betty again.
‘Should I go after him?’
‘He’s your husband, it’s your decision.’ Grace feels cold. It hits her, again, that Oliver was right. How could he love her when she was a total lie to him? She should have done the right thing.
‘Some fucking decision. You heard what he said. To both of us.’ Betty puts her head in her hands.
‘Oh God.’ Grace feels tears rolling down her cheeks, but she doesn’t feel she has the right to them. She fell in love with someone else’s husband, it all ended up as a mess, the tears are rightfully Betty’s. The story of her sorry life.
‘I just want to die. Or, actually, I want to kill you.’ People are staring. For the first time, Grace notices what is going on around them.
‘Betty,’ she says gently, despite the death threat, ‘Betty, let’s get out of here.’
Betty looks at her in total bewilderment, as if she has never seen her before, but she allows Grace to help her out of the bar. Shock is setting in for Betty, as Grace hails a cab and puts Betty inside. Then she asks the driver to take them to Grace’s flat. Betty lets her do all this.
When they get to the flat, Grace helps her to the door. Although she is falling apart, she is familiar with the feeling, and she feels responsible for Betty. Instead of contenting herself with ruining her own life (something she is extremely good at), she had to go and ruin Betty and Johnny’s as well. Guilt doesn’t even begin to describe it.
They sit at the dining table (the chairs are upright and Grace feels that Betty needs propping up), with a bottle of brandy and two glasses.
‘I hate brandy,’ Betty finally speaks, but she drinks it anyway.
‘I can get you something else. I just thought it might do us good.’
‘Shock. They always give you brandy for shock. Well, they do in films anyway.’ She laughs bitterly.
‘It hurts so much.’ Grace is thinking aloud.
‘It does, more than I ever thought anything could hurt.’ Betty pulls out the tissue that Grace foisted upon her in the taxi. It is near to total disintegration.
‘Hold on, I’ll get you another one.’
When Grace returns with a box of tissues, Betty says, ‘Why are you being so nice to me?’
‘I ruined your life. I guess that’s as good a reason as any.’
‘Fiona told me – how it was her idea, not yours, although you did ultimately agree. But you don’t look too pleased with yourself.’
‘No. No, I’m not. At the moment I feel wretched, totally, with myself but also for what I lost.’
‘What you lost?’
‘Johnny. Betty, I really fell for him.’
‘I thought so.’
‘Yeah, not for the bet, not to prove a point or to wipe the smug smile off your face. For me, for my emotions. I fell for him.’
‘Blimey.’ She takes another drink.
‘But I shouldn’t have done. He’s yo
ur husband.’
‘Not for much longer, by the look of things.’
‘I’m sorry how it turned out.’
‘Well, it looks like neither of us won the bet.’
‘The bet stopped mattering a long time ago. Betty, I am sorry. I really didn’t want all this.’
‘But nothing happened.’
‘No, nothing like that.’
‘Right.’
‘Honestly, you were right: you always had the perfect man. How could I not fall in love with him? He’s handsome, and kind and funny and intelligent. Betty, I stopped trying to trap him a long time ago, and instead, well, I think I tried to get him to fall in love with me.’
‘Which he did.’
‘No, that’s the sad thing. He didn’t.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’m not real, Betty, don’t you see? You were right all along. In the beginning when we met, and you interviewed me about my job you condemned me for what I was doing, saying that my looks made it unfair on the men, but that wasn’t all. I protested, remember, saying that it was about more than looks, and I was right. I was never real. I was a fantasy figure. I would walk into a bar, dressed glamorously, and when I spoke to the man I was working to trap I would be interested in him. I would never dominate the conversation, I would ask endless questions about him and talk about only what he was interested in. I was a male fantasy; I was never real. So you were right, it was unfair to get me to trap them, because even though they were wrong to cheat, if their wives were at home covered in baby sick, or too tired to brush their hair, or have sex, or cook them dinner, then I was the opposite, the anti-wife. And you’re right, it would take a strong man to resist something like that. A very strong man. Like Johnny.’
‘But he just said, he fell for you.’
‘He didn’t fall for me, he didn’t know me. Betty, I might not have tried such obvious tactics with him, but I didn’t let him get to know me. I told him that my husband divorced me. I told him I loved golf. Christ, I even played golf with him. I hate golf.’
Agent Provocateur Page 37