Fast and Loose

by Justine Elyot

  She shoved me aside and clattered down the stairs.

  I wasn’t sure whether to direct my jaw-drop at her or Tom.

  ‘You…you and her have been sleeping together?’ I said.

  He was sheepish, looking away and fidgeting with his keys.

  ‘On an ad hoc basis,’ he said. ‘No strings.’

  ‘No strings for you, but she doesn’t seem to have seen it that way.’

  He sighed.

  ‘Come in, will you? No need to give the neighbours a floor show.’

  I hesitated.

  ‘I don’t think I should,’ I said, although my body raged at me for turning down this opportunity for gorgeous, all-night-long sex with the other body it wanted so badly.

  ‘Oh, Ella, don’t,’ he moaned. ‘Don’t be like this.’

  ‘How should I be? She’s my best friend, Tom. I can’t…if I have to choose…I can’t…oh, God. I’m going after her.’

  I tore down the stairs, haring after her lone figure as it strode across the car park towards the quay.

  ‘Tilda, wait!’

  She upped her pace, but maintained a dignified walk, so I caught up with her before too long. The quayside was windy and cold, with no reflections on the water except the dark clouds overhead.

  ‘Get lost,’ she said, once I drew level with her.

  ‘No,’ I replied. ‘We have to talk about this.’

  ‘What, so you can give me lies and lame excuses? What’s the point?’

  ‘Listen, I had no idea you and he were still…’

  She stopped and stared at me, her face hostile beneath her hood.

  ‘So why lie about it, then, El? Why not tell me?’

  The wind whipped my hair into my mouth. On the corner of the residential blocks, light spilled on to the pavement from a ground-floor bar. It looked quiet, a little way off the main city drag.

  ‘Look, it’s too cold to talk out here. Shall we go in there? Let me buy you a drink.’

  For a moment, I thought Tilda would turn me down, but eventually she said, ‘I’ll get my own, thanks.’

  We stomped together towards the beacon, entering it to find the snazzy chrome and glass interior half-empty. We got drinks and sat down by the window, looking out at the old cranes and boat stacks on the skyline.

  ‘So,’ said Tilda, after necking back half her bottle of San Miguel in one go. ‘How long has it been going on?’

  ‘Not long. Couple of weeks.’ Was it really no longer? We seemed to have waded a long way into each other in a very short time.

  ‘And were you ever going to tell me?’

  I stared into my rum and coke, willing it to warm me up and give me the gift of the gab.

  ‘I wanted to,’ I said at last. ‘I wanted to see if it was going anywhere first though.’

  ‘Ah, I see. Keep your options open. See if you could avoid telling me altogether. Well, at least you wouldn’t have come crying to me next time he dumped you.’

  Ouch.

  ‘Cos he will, you know,’ she continued relentlessly. ‘He always does.’

  ‘Look,’ I said, ‘I knew you and he had history, but I didn’t realise you had…currency? Is that the word? Does that even make sense?’

  ‘You’re a sub, you should know,’ she said, stony-faced. For a wild moment I thought she was referring to my sex life rather than my job.

  ‘So I wasn’t the only one keeping secrets about Tom,’ I continued. ‘You never told me you had something going on with him.’

  ‘Yeah, well, it’s not exactly something I want to brag about,’ she said. ‘I’ve been trying to break the habit for weeks. Seems like you broke it for me. Cheers.’ She raised her glass sardonically.

  ‘Is that what you wanted to talk to him about tonight?’

  ‘No. Yes. I don’t know. Listen, the fucked-up thing is that I only ended up back with him because I’d gone to tell him off about the way he treated you, back in September. I ranted at him for half an hour, then somehow we…’ She sighed and drank some more.

  ‘And it happened again and again,’ I surmised. ‘Until…when was the last time?’

  ‘About three weeks ago,’ she said.

  That was a tiny shred of relief. Before we got together. Barely.

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ I said. ‘If I’d known…’

  ‘What, you’d have left him alone, would you? Face it, Ella, he’s your fatal weakness. Just so happens that he’s mine too.’

  ‘Well…that’s common ground, then, isn’t it?’ I said, raising my glass and clinking her bottle. ‘Let’s not ruin our friendship over him. Please?’

  ‘That depends,’ said Tilda. ‘Are you still going to see him? Because if you are, I don’t think I can be in your life in the same way.’

  I put my hands over my face, feeling the burn of her ultimatum. Tilda or Tom? Which one could I stand to lose the least? Which one could I rely on the most?

  Well, the answer to that seemed clear enough. Tom could still be a several-night-stand, for all I knew. Without the Mia mystery to add spice, would he even bother with me at all?

  ‘It’s a bit of a strange one,’ I said slowly, having removed my hands. ‘The thing is, Tom and I got together over a…a…shared interest. And, even if we weren’t seeing each other, I’d want to pursue that.’

  ‘What, you have some kind of hobby going on with him?’ Her brow furrowed in perplexity.

  ‘No, it’s more like…an investigation. A blogger I was keen on went missing and he wanted to help me find her. And that’s still going on. So…’

  ‘What blogger?’ From Tilda’s tone, she judged this to be pure bullshit. ‘So you and he are doing this Sherlock Holmes number together? Really? And you have to shag each other while you do it? That’s even more unlikely than some of the silly-season stories he tries to file. Like the one about the duck virus.’

  ‘Duck virus?’

  ‘Yeah, last August he made up some crap about a deadly virus passed on by ducks. It made it into Snopes in the end. Anyway, never mind that. You’re telling me that you are going to keep on seeing him?’

  ‘I want to find this blogger,’ I said helplessly.

  ‘And you can’t do that without the help of his dick?’

  ‘I don’t have to shag him! It’s just – we were just starting to get somewhere.’

  Tilda was silent for a few moments, transfixed by the skirling of leaves outside.

  ‘So that’s a no, then,’ she said, turning back abruptly. ‘You won’t stop seeing him. He wins. I lose.’

  ‘It’s not like that,’ I insisted. I stood up to take her empty bottle to the bar. ‘Look, I’m going to get us another drink.’

  ‘Hold on,’ she said, as I turned to go. ‘What the hell’s happened to your legs?’

  I clutched the empties harder, resisting the reflexive urge to put my hands on my thighs and hide them.

  ‘Oh,’ I said, ‘just…I dunno…they got stuck to Tom’s car seat.’

  Tilda raised an eyebrow. ‘Must have been sweaty in there,’ she said. ‘But wouldn’t that have faded by now?’ She gave me a sudden, shrewd look. ‘Or has he talked you into trying out some of his pervy ideas?’

  I wanted to say I didn’t know what she meant, but my face must have given me away. It flash-flooded with heat.

  ‘Oh, my God, he has, hasn’t he?’

  I put down the bottles and sank back into my seat with some reluctance.

  ‘What do you mean by pervy ideas?’

  ‘I mean some of the stuff that was a dealbreaker for me in the first place. Kinky stuff. Bondage. But he’s got you doing all that, I bet.’ She snorted.

  ‘He hasn’t “got me” doing anything,’ I said. ‘We don’t do anything I don’t like.’

  ‘Ugh, you mean you like that stuff? Really? You’re not just doing it for him?’

  ‘I’m not going to go into detail, Tilda – I’m just going to repeat that we don’t do anything I don’t like.’

  ‘How can you enjoy being
treated like a…I don’t know…his bitch? I thought you were a feminist.’

  ‘I am a feminist. I’m not his bitch. It’s just what we’re both into.’

  Tilda glowered at me for a moment, pushing her chair back so that it scraped the floor.

  ‘No wonder he stopped making his booty calls,’ she said. ‘Now he’s got someone to bend over and take all that shit from him. What a beautiful relationship you must have.’ She laughed bitterly. ‘He gets what he wants, and you take what you can get.’

  ‘That sounds more like your arrangement,’ I said, her open disgust at my sexuality unleashing my catty side.

  ‘I love him,’ she replied vehemently, leaning back towards me. ‘I mean, loved. I mean, oh shit, I don’t know what I mean. This is all too fucked up. I’m going home.’

  She staggered off, trying to hide the sob that shook her shoulders.

  ‘Tilda! Don’t just run off!’

  I got up to follow her, but she turned around and waved me back, her other hand over her face. All I could do was watch her run along the quay to the carpark, through the first fat drops of a cloudburst.

  I pulled out my phone to text her, but there was already a message from Tom on the screen.

  Where are you? Are you OK?

  OK was not the term I’d have used to describe my feelings just then, but I was a long way from the cab rank in foul weather, and the temptation to cadge a lift home from him was strong.

  Not really, I texted back. Tilda is devastated.

  Is she with you now?

  No, just left. I’m at bar on corner.

  Come over. Need to see you.

  Not sure I should.

  I am. Come over or I’ll come there and get you.

  I sighed, put my phone away and headed back to his apartment block.

  Chapter Eight

  He buzzed me in and I found his door ajar at the top of the stairs. He was lounging on the sofa, brooding over a whisky while dark, bluesy music played in the background.

  ‘Tom’s the right name for you,’ I said, standing in the doorway. ‘Tom cat. Alley cat.’

  He looked up at me sullenly. ‘The way I remember it, you don’t mind an alley yourself.’

  I looked at the tumbler in his hand. ‘Bang goes my plan to ask you for a lift home then,’ I said.

  ‘Why do you want a lift home?’

  ‘You mean you’d allow me to stay in your inner sanctum? Wow, I’m so honoured.’

  ‘What the fuck is that supposed to mean?’

  ‘You’ve never stayed with me after sex before, that’s what. I didn’t really think anything of it at the time, but now I’m wondering if it’s so you can get on to the next woman on your list.’

  He dashed down his tumbler and stood up. I’d never seen him angry before, and I took a step back.

  ‘My list?’ he said. ‘I haven’t been with anyone else since I took you to that ridiculous goth bar. I haven’t wanted to be with anyone else. You can believe me or not, but it’s the truth.’

  ‘And yet Tilda seemed to think your little arrangement was still ongoing.’

  His shoulders slackened and he looked away, wind visibly dropping from his sails.

  ‘I should have told her,’ he said quietly. ‘But…’ He looked back at me. ‘What would I have said? She’d have badgered me until she got the truth. About you.’

  ‘Perhaps she deserved the truth,’ I said.

  ‘You mean you’d have been happy for me to tell her we were seeing each other? Ella…’ He paused, looking up at the ceiling for a moment. ‘Are we seeing each other?’

  ‘You mean…now?’

  ‘I mean now, and I mean…for God’s sake, shut that bloody door and come and sit down.’

  I was in two minds, but the wind was whistling out there now, the rain beating hard against the windows, so one of the minds soon backed down. I went to sit, not on the sofa but on an easy chair on the other side of the coffee table.

  ‘Drink?’ he said. ‘There’s red wine in the kitchen if you don’t fancy a tot.’

  ‘Actually, whisky might be nice,’ I said.

  He poured me a tumbler and I took a moment to appreciate the cheerful warmth it sent through my still shivering frame.

  He sat opposite me, hands on his knees, crystal-blue eyes fixed on my face.

  ‘What I mean, Ella,’ he said, and the use of my actual name rather than one of his silly diminutives or nicknames signalled his serious intent, ‘is, neither of us seem quite clear on where we stand with each other.’

  ‘Well, is that my fault?’ I blurted, my heart quickening at the thought of hearing his take on the situation. Was I a convenient pervert on whom to rehearse his darker side, or was there – as I foolishly hoped – more to it?

  ‘It’s nobody’s fault,’ he said. ‘I suppose we both thought we’d see where the situation took us. But this thing with Tilda seems to have forced my hand, and I think we’re going to have to thrash it out. So to speak.’

  I waited for him to wink, to give me permission to smirk inappropriately, but he still seemed deadly serious, so I looked down at my hands instead.

  ‘I can’t lose Tilda,’ I muttered. ‘I sit next to her all day long, for God’s sake.’

  ‘And you think you have to choose between us?’

  ‘I know I do. She said so.’

  Tom took a breath, his eyes on the ceiling.

  ‘I tried to explain,’ I added. ‘But I couldn’t tell her much, so it probably ended up sounding a bit lame. I mean, I left out all the kink stuff, which is pretty much everything, so…’

  ‘The kink is everything,’ paraphrased Tom slowly. ‘Is it?’

  His intense gaze was upon me again, drawing the blood to my cheeks.

  ‘It’s what brought us together,’ I said.

  ‘And is it what kept us together?’ he asked.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean, would you do all that with any old Dom? Perhaps I’ve read this all wrong, El, but there seemed to be more to it than that. At least, for me.’

  I was too winded to speak for a minute. So he did have feelings for me?

  ‘Are you saying you…uh…you like me?’

  Tom rolled his eyes. ‘Of course I bloody like you, you nitwit.’

  I laughed, suddenly and hysterically, tears blinding me before I knew it.

  ‘What?’ he said.

  ‘Nitwit,’ I giggled. ‘I haven’t heard that in years.’

  ‘Well, I live to amuse you,’ he said, sounding mildly put out.

  I recovered myself, dabbed my eyes and reverted to serious mode.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I like you too. Really like you a lot. But you can understand why I found it hard to read your feelings, given that you seemed keen as mustard the first time we got together, then…nada.’

  ‘Yes, I know, I’m sorry, mea culpa, blah blah blah.’ His invocation of Mia’s name brought the full scope of our dilemma into focus.

  ‘Speaking of Mia,’ I said, then I stopped and shook my head. ‘Oh, this is impossible.’

  ‘What’s impossible? Why?’

  ‘Tom, I can’t see you and keep Tilda as a friend. But if I can’t see you, then what are we going to do about the Mia thing? Just drop it? I don’t think I can do that.’

  ‘Neither can I,’ he said quietly. ‘And I can’t just drop you either.’

  His words shattered my resolve. I had been determined to put friendship first, but he made it ridiculously hard.

  ‘Tilda will get over it,’ he said firmly.

  ‘She’ll get over you,’ I said. ‘But I don’t think she’ll get over me choosing you over her. Why would she? She’s been a lifeline to me in my first few months at the Clarion, while all you’ve done is waltzed up and got me into bed a few times. She’s earned my friendship, whereas you…’

  ‘Right,’ he said. ‘You owe me nothing. I get it.’

  ‘That’s not what I mean,’ I insisted, but he was on his feet, looking for the whisk
y bottle for a refill.

  ‘I know what you mean,’ he said. ‘Go on, then. Run after her and tell her she’s won.’

  ‘It’s not a war!’

  ‘No,’ he said, pouring the whisky. ‘But perhaps it’s a game.’

  ‘Oh, that’s rich, coming from the biggest player in town.’

  He turned round, and he looked tireder and older than his usual effervescent self.

  ‘So Tilda gets the revenge she’s always wanted,’ he said. ‘And you’re the instrument she uses. If that’s not a game, what is?’

  ‘Tilda isn’t…oh, for God’s sake, take some responsibility,’ I snapped. ‘People have feelings, Tom. Can’t you try and respect that?’

  ‘I have feelings,’ he replied, striding rapidly towards me. ‘For you. Didn’t you have any idea?’

  I shook my head, swallowing. ‘No,’ I said. ‘I never did. You know I’m useless at reading the signs.’

  ‘Well, let me give you more than signs, then. Let me tell you straight out. I want you, Ella. I don’t want you to go. I’ve never met somebody I could be so completely myself with, and I don’t think you have either. Please don’t give this up for the sake of Tilda playing dog in the manger. Please!’

  The lump in my throat was painful now, my eyes prickling along with it. The decision was too big. There was nothing I could do but run away from it.

  I shook my head, gasped, ‘I’m sorry…I can’t,’ and fled.

  Chapter Nine

  I’d been lucky to get a taxi right outside the apartment complex. I was less lucky to walk into my home and find both my flatmates up, tending to a snotty, sobbing Tilda in the living room.

  The daggers I got on entering would have struck a lesser woman dead.

  ‘So you didn’t go back to his place then?’ said Jess disdainfully. ‘I suppose that’s something.’

  ‘I can’t believe you did it,’ added Mehra. ‘With him. After all he put you through before.’

  ‘Hold on a minute,’ I said, stung to my own defence. ‘I haven’t committed a crime here.’

  ‘Crime against friendship,’ sniffed Tilda.

  ‘How many times? I didn’t know you were still shagging him!’