Broken Blue: The Complete Series

by Amy Cross

  Reaching into the envelope, I pull out a bunch of photos. Most of them show projects he was working on, but there are a few random family shots in there, including pictures from holidays we took years ago. It's weird to see my face in one of the pictures, smiling at the camera when I was much younger. "Thanks," I say. "You can come in and wait if you want. My mother should be back soon".

  He pauses, as if he's torn between staying and going. Just as he opens his mouth to reply, a horn sounds and we both look over to see a blonde woman leaning out of his car.

  "I think I have to go," he says awkwardly.

  "Girlfriend?" I ask.

  "Yeah," he says, clearly a little embarrassed. "Well, kind of," he adds. "You know how it is".

  "Mark!" the woman calls out. "They close soon!" She has a shrill voice, and she's wearing a low-cut top that shows off what appear to be some pretty pneumatic breasts, and her skin is a kind of fake-tan orange. It's weird, but even though I don't really know Mark at all, I would've thought he'd have a little more taste. Frankly, this woman looks like a second-rate prostitute rather than the kind of woman who'd attract a billionaire like Mark Douglas. Then again, I suppose you never know what floats someone's boat.

  "I really have to get going," Mark says, stepping away from the door, "but please tell your mother than I said hello, and..." He pauses, and for a moment it seems as if there's something else he wants to say. "It was good to see you again, Elly".

  "You too," I reply, watching as he hurries to the car. As he drives away, I'm sure I see the woman glance back at me with a scowl, as if she doesn't like me. I guess she's one of those women who see every other female as a threat, even though she clearly has no need to worry about Mark and me. Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself, though, but I totally don't understand why Mark would be spending time with someone like that. She looked like a third-rate Vegas stripper.

  Once they're gone, I go back into the house and figure I might as well see if I can get dinner started. These days at my mother's house are so long and dull, I feel like the boredom is going to just build and build and eventually crush me. Seeing Mark, though, provided a little relief, and now I find that I can't stop thinking about him. I get a lasagne all ready to put in the oven, and then I decide to go and take a shower. Today has been totally weird, and I just want to wash the dirt of the town off my body and relax. I know I promised to go to see Rob's band tonight, and there's a part of me that still wants to get out of the house, but I'm starting to think that maybe it'd be better to just stay in with a book.

  As soon as I'm naked and standing under the shower-head, with warm water sprinkling all over my body, I find myself thinking more and more about Mark. I start lathering up my body, and finally my hand starts lingering down by my crotch. I tell myself that it would be crazy to start fantasizing him again, but after resisting for a moment, I start gently rubbing the tip of my finger against my clitoris. Closing my eyes, with the warm shower water running through my hair and over my face, I imagine what it would be like if the finger was Mark's instead. I feel kind of stupid doing this, but soon I'm rubbing myself more firmly, and eventually I cum hard, leaning back against the wall of the shower cubicle and gasping. Moments later, with the pleasure subsiding, I take a deep breath and realize I've now masturbated about the guy twice in as many days, which seems a bit extreme considering I hardly know him. It feels like he's got under my skin somehow, but I think maybe I need a new hobby.

  Five

  1895

  "Her Ladyship will be in to see you shortly," the butler says as he withdraws from the room, pulling the door closed as he goes. I'm left standing alone in the conservatory of Lady Red's Vauxhall home, with nothing to do other than to admire her books. Exceedingly well-read and with exquisite taste, Lady Red prides herself on her ability to maintain an intellectual or academic conversation with anyone she meets, whether they're male or female. She reads voraciously, and is a fellow of several cultural and scientific institutions across the city. Just the other day, she gave a speech on politics to one of the nearby Conservative clubs, and I hear she was received with enthusiasm; I wonder how those same gentlemen would feel if they any inkling of the game.

  "My dear Mr. Blue," says a voice over on the other side of the room. "How charming to see you".

  Turning, I see to my surprise that Lady Red has entered wearing nothing more than a silk robe, which hangs loose at the front. She has a knowing smile on her face, and I immediately realize that she intends to toy with me. Spending time in her presence can be rather tiring on those days when she is determined not to take anything seriously.

  "Thank you for taking time to see me," I reply. "Your schedule must be extremely busy".

  "Not at all! You must know that I always have time for you".

  "I wonder," I say, "if perhaps you were expecting my visit today".

  "Not particularly," she says, opening her drinks cabinet. "Can I offer you a glass of port?"

  "No thank you," I reply.

  She smiles. "I hope you don't mind if I partake. It has been such a long day". She starts pouring herself a drink.

  "I was accosted by Sophia Marchant's mother today," I continue, determined to get straight to the point. "I was coming out of my club and suddenly the woman was right there, screaming hysterically about her daughter's disappearance".

  "How frightfully awful," Lady Red replies. "I do hope you are okay?"

  "I'm fine," I say, "although it was a little embarrassing. Now, though, I find myself wondering how the situation came to pass. For one thing, there is no conceivable way that Sophia's parents could possibly know about me. For another, even if they did know my name, I am rather surprised that they would find it so easy to track me down". I pause, watching as Lady Red sips from her glass. She seems to take particular pleasure in leaning across to fetch a spoon, allowing her robe to fall open a little and briefly expose her pert right breast. "I can't help but wonder," I say eventually, "if perhaps some external force is dabbling, and maybe even moving the game pieces in order to cause trouble".

  "And who would do that?" Lady Red asks, taking another sip.

  "That's rather what I was hoping you might tell me," I say.

  She smiles. "If you're suggesting that I would in any way seek to sabotage your adventures, Edward, I'm afraid you're quite wrong. Why would I do that? It's in my best interests that you should continue to play the game and that, perhaps, you might even find the right girl".

  "That's not entirely true, is it?" I reply. "It's in your best interests that Mr. Blue should continue to play, and that Mr. Blue should find this elusive girl, but there's no reason that I have to be the one who fulfills that role. In fact, one might even suggest that you could perhaps be motivated to move me out of the game and bring in a new Mr. Blue".

  "You seem a little paranoid," she says. "Do you really think that I would move against you?"

  "I'm not entirely sure," I reply.

  "Paranoia is not an attractive quality," she says. "It makes me wonder about your mental state".

  "I'm curious," I tell her. "Not paranoid".

  She pauses. "Then let me rephrase my earlier question. Do you really think that I would move against you, and that in such a situation you would live long enough to come and confront me? Believe me, my dear Edward, if I wanted you out of the game, you would be under no illusion. In fact, you would not be standing here right now. You would not be standing anywhere". She smiles. "Just in case there is still any doubt, Edward, let me be as clear as possible. I have not been in touch with the Marchant family at all. Why would I? The game is going through a period of stability, and I happen to like it that way. I have just secured a new Mr. White. I do not wish to go to the trouble of securing a new Mr. Blue as well".

  "Then how does Sophia's mother know about me?" I ask. "I took the usual steps to ensure that I would not be implicated in her disappearance".

  "Perhaps Sophia was more shrewd than you realize," she says. "Perhaps the young lady was con
cerned for her safety and left behind a note when she came to meet you. After all, it would be the wise thing for her to do".

  "I suppose it's possible," I reply.

  "I hope you don't mind me pointing out one of your more common flaws," she continues. "I have noticed in the past, Edward, that sometimes you underestimate people. I would think it's absolutely possible that Sophia, concerned about her safety, confided in someone about her activities".

  "She assured me that she did not".

  "Perhaps she lied," she says. "People do lie from time to time".

  "I am quite sure she was telling the truth," I say.

  "Then perhaps she was a very good liar," she replies. "Some people are good at it, Edward. They can say the most hysterically untrue things and make it sound completely plausible. They can promise you one thing while doing the other, and they can do it with a straight face. None of us are completely immune from liars, especially if we want to believe what we're being told". She pauses for a moment. "Whatever caused this situation, you must deal with it. We cannot have any attention being paid to the game by outsiders. Do whatever you need to do, but ensure that this problem is swiftly ended. If you do not do something swiftly, I might be forced to take matters into my own hands".

  "It will be resolved," I say, although at the moment I am somewhat at a loss to determine how this might be achieved. Sophia's mother seemed extremely distraught, and her ravings might yet be taken seriously by someone. I shall have to find a way to ensure her silence.

  "And how are things going with the lovely Elizabeth Cavendish?" Lady Red asks. "I must confess, I became a little curious so I went and took a look at her for myself. She seems to be most beautiful, and there's such passion in her eyes. Do you think she is a promising candidate for the game?"

  "You went and saw her?" I ask, shocked that she would do such a thing. The rules of the game specifically state that it is Mr. Blue who should make the first move with each new girl, with Mr. White and then Lady Red coming onboard only when the first phase is over.

  "I had heard so little from you," she replies. "I simply had to -"

  "That's against the rules," I say firmly. "You know full well that when I select a girl, neither Mr. White nor Lady Red are permitted to interfere in the initial encounters".

  "Oh, I know all that," she says, "but I must admit that, lately I've been a little worried about you, Edward. You seem less communicative than usual, less focused. I do believe that somewhere in the game's rules, there is a provision for either Mr. White or myself to visit a young lady if we have reason to be concerned about your judgment".

  "And are you concerned?" I ask.

  She stares at me for a moment.

  "Are you concerned about my judgment?" I ask again.

  "It's so hard to say," she replies casually. "Perhaps. Your judgment in the Sophia Marchant case certainly seemed a little flawed, but then again she was such a pretty girl. I felt at the time that you were a little infatuated with her, and I think my concerns were ultimately shown to have some foundation. Are you awfully offended that I have these thoughts about you?"

  "No," I say, "but I would appreciate it if you stay away from Elizabeth. I am in the process of reeling her into the game. As I'm sure you will understand, I cannot simply go and grab a girl, and ask her if she wants to take part. I have to approach her from a number of different angles and assess her emotional suitability. I also have to make the seduction seem believable, so that she will think there is nothing amiss. Your intervention, though undoubtedly well-meaning, could jeopardize the entire arrangement".

  She sips from her glass. "If that is the case, then I apologize unreservedly. Elizabeth seems like a very nice girl, and I hope you enjoy making love to her very much. From what I could see, it appears she has a good body and a lively, happy face. I do not wish to get ahead of myself, but I shall be very interested to see whether she might be able to progress through the game. It has been so long since that happened, and I am starting to wonder if the wait might be fruitless. In our lifetimes, at least".

  "I have faith in Elizabeth," I explain.

  "You had faith in Sophia," she snaps back, exposing for a moment the venom that resides beneath her calm demeanor. "The past can't be changed," she continues with a smile, "so all we can do is learn from our mistakes".

  "I could certainly have bedded Elizabeth already," I say, "but I wish to make her a little more keen". Turning and looking over at the clock by the door, I decide that it is time to get back to my other endeavors. "I have greatly enjoyed this opportunity to clear the air," I say to Lady Red, "but I'm sure you'll understand that I have a number of pressing engagements this afternoon".

  "Of course," she says. "I shall not be able to show you out, but please feel free to come and see me at any time. My door is always open, Edward, and I feel certain that we can iron out any problems if only we discuss them properly".

  As I leave Lady Red's home and step out into the street, I am filled with a feeling of foreboding. I have been playing the game for a number of years now, and I am certain that something has changed recently. It is as my role in the game is being doubted, and I cannot help but wonder whether Lady Red is considering whether or not to move against my continued participation. There is, of course, only one way out of the game, and I am certainly not ready to lay down my life just yet. Perhaps the best thing to do would be to focus on Elizabeth Cavendish and see if I can turn her into a success. If I can mold her and force her to change in certain ways, she might yet prove to be my salvation. Otherwise, my only option is to start working on an exit strategy that might allow me to slip away from the game without drawing undue attention to my departure.

  Six

  Today

  Why am I here? Why am I here? Why am I here?

  Fuck!

  Standing outside the King's Arms, I try to reconnect with the feelings I used to experience when I came here a few years ago. Back then, I was part of a group of friends who used to hang out in the bar and talk about whatever crap entered our minds. My best friends back then were people like Mandy and Gemma, while Rob and his band were very much on the periphery of our social scene. It feels so weird being back here, especially since I know that Mandy is living in Edinburgh now and Gemma is down in the West Country. I feel like one of those people who desperately tries to recapture their youth by going back to their old haunts, and I'm quite certain I'm going to regret coming down here. Still, I'm here now and I figure I might as well try to make the best of it.

  As soon as I walk through the door, I'm hit by that old familiar smell: a mixture of stale beer, body odor and tobacco. The place is packed, and I have to literally force my way between people as I make my way slowly to the bar. Every so often, I hear the twang of a guitar chord over the chatter, as the band gets ready down at the back of the room, but I figure there's no point going to introduce myself to Rob and his friends right now; I'll just loiter in a free spot and wait for someone to find me. Eventually I manage to order a beer from the overrun, lone barman on duty, and I squeeze into the corner so I can at least lean against the wall. As the seconds tick by, I feel more and more out of place, and after half an hour of standing alone I start to feel as if maybe I should just get out of here. There's a cinema down the road, so I could go and see a film...

  "Elly!" shouts a voice from the crowd. It takes me a moment to see who called me, but finally I spot Rob pushing his way in my direction. Finally he reaches me, and he immediately throws his arms around me in a big hug. "I thought maybe you'd stood me up!" he says, having to shout so that I can hear him above the noise of the room.

  "I was a bit late," I shout back at him. "I didn't think I could make it up to the front".

  "Come on," he says, taking my hand and starting to lead me away from the corner. Reluctantly, I follow him through the never-ending sea of people until, suddenly, we emerge right at the front, where the other members of Rob's band are getting ready. I recognize most of them instantly: a little olde
r, a little fatter, and generally looking a little less healthy than I remember, they immediately remind me of the old days.

  For the next few minutes, Rob introduces me to his friends, some of whom I knew in school. It's weird, but I feel like I'm being sucked back into a social scene that I left years ago, and at first I'm not sure how to react. I've been away in Bristol for three years, and I'm only now realizing how much I've changed in that time. To be honest, I feel as if I've grown up and matured while these people have stayed more or less the same: they've been doing the same things in the same places with the same people. I get the appeal of familiarity and routine, but I could never commit to such a repetitive life. Maybe I'm being arrogant, but I sense that I have nothing in common with Rob and the members of his band any more, and all I can really do is try to be polite as I talk to them. When they start getting ready to play, I'm immensely relieved that the conversation is over, and I step aside so they can get on with their music.

  As I'd expected, the band is pretty awful, and their set seems to last forever. They eventually stop just after 11pm, and I loiter with my empty glass, wondering whether I should just get out of here. Just as I turn to go, however, Rob runs over and taps my shoulder.

  "What are you doing now?" he asks, with an expectant smile. It's pretty clear that he thinks the night has only just begun, whereas I'm already starting to think about going home to bed.

  "I don't know," I say, trying not to be too abrupt. "I figured the show's over, so..."

  "The pub's open for a couple more hours," he says. "Come on, I'll buy you a drink".

  Before I can tell him I'd rather not, he's over at the bar ordering me a beer. I want to walk out the door, but now I feel like I've been suckered into staying a little longer. I thank Rob for the beer as he passes it to me, and we stand in a kind of awkward silence for a while before he eventually asks me if I liked the band.

  "You were great," I say, which is a complete lie. I've seen some bad bands over the years, but these guys were beyond awful. "I really liked the second song," I add, though I'm pretty sure he can tell that it's not true. I've always been a terrible liar, and I just embarrass myself whenever I try.