Conall was overworked. I kept insisting that he not cook for me at night and that he not pick me up, but he wouldn’t hear any of it. At one stage, we had an argument about it. “You’re exhausted. I don’t want you exhausted! I can cook for you once in a while,” I said.
He was stunned, his eyes half-closing on the leather chair of his office. He rubbed his hand over his face and said, “OK, but I’m still picking you up. The train station is no place for a woman on her own when it’s dark.”
And so it was agreed. Although, what ended up happening was that we’d simply eat out because I was getting home later and later from work each day.
Carlo was giving me more and more responsibilities. He told me he “saw something” in me, and that he wanted me to reach my full potential as soon as possible.
I was motivated, partly because I felt I’d been made such a fool of at the college—a “prestigious” college. Somehow I knew that this fiasco would chase me for the rest of my life. I felt I needed to prove myself, to become “famous” or something, just to show them that I’m not nothing more than a “college dropout.” I didn’t feel like one. I felt like a working woman, down to the utter exhaustion and lack of sex as a result of it. But the stigma remained.
I kept in touch with our hacker friend Layla. I’d asked her if she wanted to work with Conall in his business, but she seemed to be having some serious boy trouble (“man” trouble?) and so was a little distracted when I asked her. I didn’t get a straight answer, and I didn’t push it. I know how man trouble can really screw your head over.
I wanted to help Conall, and I suggested Freckly Troy as an option. Conall had hesitations on him. “He’s just never...clicked...with us,” he said. I dropped it. Conall is a good judge of character, and it was his business, so I didn’t want to push it.
“What about Dani?” I suggested.
“Dani’s cool. Would she be interested?”
I asked her, and she was!
Conall told her to read a few books. He didn’t have the time to show her all the ropes of his customized software, but when Brad was back, he’d do it.
At least he’d have some more time and wouldn’t be so tired after that!
One night, sipping on a glass of Chardonnay, he said to me, “This is why bankers don’t put their money into businesses. It’s too much work.”
“But the profit is worth it, isn’t it?”
He shook his head. “Actually...yes and no. Honestly, the profit is less in a ‘normal’ business. I mean, millions are millions. But that’s what some of these guys make in a day with their investments. It’s more work and less return to do it my way.”
“But your way is fairer—and won’t contribute to crashing the economy.”
“I’ve taught you well.”
I got on top of him on the couch, slid my undies off, undid his belt buckle. And then I showed him just how much his desire to do good turned me on.
-2-
Layla sent me an email about how Bettina Langford had taken it a step too far, and how Layla wanted to do something about it now. The email contained private Facebook posts, public Facebook posts, tweets, Instagram photos, on and on, making fun of me and Kayla. Calling us “losers” and “dropouts” and making jokes about us as Americans.
It was that last point that really pissed me off.
Layla is also American. I think that’s the reason she stayed on this for so long. It was like a national pride thing or something.
The end of the email contained one question: “Should I do something about it?”
I answered.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
-1-
“He broke up with me, the bastard!” Dani was hysterical on the phone. She and Troy had been back at Seaford for a week, trying to keep the bar up and running.
“Come over,” I told her.
“Oh, yeah, you fink I’m stayin here!? Of course I’m coming ovah!”
Dani stayed in one of Conall’s extra rooms (one that he plans on using for the “six kids” one day...) Kay and Brad had moved permanently back into the cottage. Several weeks had gone by since her wedding and they were back from their honeymoon, and well tanned.
Conall and I were loud sometimes, true. At least I thought so. I especially love the way he roars just before climax. And my own cries are nothing short of masterful screeches of pleasure sometimes.
But Kayla... Wow. She and Brad could shatter glass if they’re at the right pitch. Married life hadn’t slowed them down one bit. It was often that Conall and I heard their wails, thumping, screaming...and their pet names for each other (“Kay Bear” and “Baddy Brad.”)
I could swallow my screams, so could Conall. And so Dani stayed with us in our large home instead of with Kayla and Brad next door in the little cottage—with them screaming. That would have simply been torture.
The first night Dani arrived, Conall took Brad out for a beer down in the village (you can walk there from his place) so us girls could be together.
It was me, Dani and Kayla. Alex was working late—again.
Dani’s eyes were rimmed red. Her hair was disheveled. Her skin looking clammy. Full-figured though she is, she looked a little gaunt.
We brought out the wine, but Dani went straight for the whiskey. Direct from the bottle.
“Bastard!” I said. “It just doesn’t make any sense, goddamnit!” Sure, Conall had perceived something about Freckly Troy that had given him reservations about him working in Conall’s business. But business is one thing, friendships are another.
“It’s that Dorian, I tell you!” Dani exclaimed.
The name sent nauseating shivers through me. Dorian Brant, the only other man I’d ever...done...anything with other than Conall. A real “ladies man” longshoreman who’d started hunting for other girls the moment I’d left Seaford. That Dorian. Sexy, tall, green-eyed. Butch.
A player.
He’d helped get Dani out of Raphael’s hands when we’d needed him. And he and Conall had shaken hands and respected each other’s contribution to the rescue operation. But war and woman are two different things. Dorian had come through in that covert op. But he was still a prick when it came to treating girls right.
Dorian and Freckly Troy were old high-school friends. It’s how Dorian had known so much about me the night he’d first flirted with me, because Troy has a big mouth.
“Well, that makes sense. Fucking bastard,” I said, half as a mumble.
“You said that already, babe,” Kayla piped up.
“I meant Dorian. Wasn’t he going out with that...” I waved my hand.
Dani looked up from the ground. She grabbed the whiskey and took another long, full swig. “Jackie?”
“Yeah, her!” Jackie was a sixteen year-old girl (at the time) who’d worked with me and Dani at the Jolly Roger back in the day. She’d held my shift a few times when I’d needed to travel to London or Crawley Down to see Conall.
“Oh, baby,” Dani said, “he and her ’ave been over for so long. You know Dorian, luff. Jackie ’ad ’er ’eart broken. She was really in love wiff ’im, y’know?”
I hadn’t known. But it sounded like Dorian’s modus operandi.
“They started ’anging out again recently—my Troy and Dorian. And then, well, this! I’m bloody sure the bahstad ’as been feeding my Troy lies abou’ woman and ’ow to treat them an’ all!”
Asshole.
Dani started sobbing. She grabbed the whiskey and slugged three major swallows. My own head was getting sore just looking at it. “Take it easy there, babe,” I said. “You’ll feel worse in the morning.”
And then she broke out into horrible, wrenching gasps. It tore my heart out. Kayla got off the couch and held our girl. My stomach hurt it was so painful to watch.
-2-
When it rains, it pours. Also known as Murphy’s Law. Or, when the shit hits, the fan is somehow always there.
Alex arrived an hour later. Brad and Conall were still away, giving us
girls the peace we needed tonight. Only, there was no peace.
Alex’s eyes were flicking frantically left and right when I opened the door for her. She hadn’t been crying, but she looked like she might. Her brown eyes were angry, her dirty blond hair messy and knotted. The scar on the side of her face looked darker.
“Alex, what is it?” I didn’t think I could take any more bad news.
“Pedro,” she said. “He’s in town. And Francis and he got into a scuffle. Pedro’s in hospital.”
-3-
“What the hell did Francis want with you!?” I cried.
We were now all in Conall’s living room, sitting on the couches. A fire crackled in the back.
Alex already had a glass of wine out. “He’s a loose cannon right now, Leo. The drugs have gone to his head. He doesn’t know what he wants. He’s been following me—”
“What!? Doesn’t Trey have access to every secret satellite in the world or something?” I put my glass down, suddenly losing any desire for drink, food, everything.
“I haven’t told Trey about Francis.”
There was silence in the room. All three of us looked at Alex, bewildered, shocked.
Finally, Dani asked the obvious question: “Why the fuck not?”
Alex waited a beat. “Because...Francis needs help. And I feel...obliged...to help him.”
“By having him stalk you!?” I was incredulous.
Alex shook her head. “We went out for a beer a few weeks ago. He just looked like he needed someone...to talk to.”
I blinked a few times. Pedro. Francis. Both ex-lovers... “Alex, are you and Trey still—”
“Oh, Leo, of course we’re fine!” She flicked a hand at me. “But that’s just the point: Francis and I had something together, but it doesn’t change who I am or even how much I absolutely love my husband! But your reaction goes to show why I haven’t told him. You know Trey, he’s got that whole ex-military, ex-poverty thing in his past. He’s rough around the edges. I’d hate for Francis to get his kneecaps broken over something that doesn’t even exist. And men are jealous by nature. So if you, a girlfriend of mine, think that—what would Trey think!? He’d flip!”
“Alex,” I countered, “Francis is trouble. You know that stuff’s frying his head. And...” I thought of Conall’s father. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, I supposed. But I didn’t say anything about that. I’d have to have Alex alone for that, because Dani didn’t know anything about Edmond.
“It fried my head as well, Leo. Conall helped me. He got me off the stuff. If I hadn’t had help, I wouldn’t be here with you guys now,” Alex said.
“That’s not the same. You were...kidnapped! And you’re...a good person!” I still couldn’t believe it! This was the guy who’d nearly pulled a gun on his own brother. Maybe even on me!
Alex shrugged. “It’s a dark world when you’re in it, Leora.” She looked at Kayla. “Right?”
“You mean drugs?” Kayla asked.
Alex nodded.
Kay looked at me, shrugged as if to say, She has a point.
Alex continued. “I think I can get through to him. I think I can get him...into rehab.”
“I disagree.” I was scratching my head. “He’s trouble—for you, for me, for Conall. And if Trey finds out—”
“We can argue about what you think all you like. Francis and I have history, and the history is mine. Not yours.” Alex was starting to get annoyed. “Now, you can either support me on this other issue, or we can waste the next several hours discussing the righteousness of my actions or not.”
“What issue, luff?” Dani seemed to have sobered up somewhat.
Alex scratched her head. “Uhm, the Pedro issue.”
Dani and Kayla didn’t know about Pedro yet. Alex had told me at the door and then we’d started talking about Francis in the living room.
Dani had heard of Pedro—the dark and sexy Portuguese guy that Alex had met in Switzerland when I’d been sent there by Dr. Gehrig to find my marbles again. It had worked. Not only that, but Alex had “gotten back on the horse” as well. Pedro had been that “horse.” She’d stayed there awhile after we’d all left, then she and he split up, and before we knew it she was with Trey, married.
And happy. Happier than ever.
I was wrong to assume she’d been unfaithful to Trey. I recall her mentioning him as a “dark soul,” similar to herself. They were a match made in an imperfect world.
“I’m sorry,” I said to Alex, “for assuming you were...I mean...had feelings for...you know.”
Alex waved her fingers in the air lightly. “Forget it. It was natural of you to assume that.”
“Shu’ up!” Dani waved her hand a lot more forcefully at me! “What the fuck ’appened wiff this Pedro!? And what the fuck is he doing in England!? And what the fuck—”
“Dani,” Alex said, “I’ll tell you.”
-4-
It was a long story.
Meanwhile, Brad and Conall arrived home. We barely gave them any looks. Conall came over and gave me a kiss, waited a second, saw a few red eyes in the room (Dani and Alex) and then said wisely, “I take it you’re all...in the middle of...something?”
“M-hmmm!” Dani scoffed.
“Let’s go play some pool,” Conall said to Brad.
The pool room was just next door, so we’d have to continue talking quietly! Music soon poured from the game room, so maybe we wouldn’t need to talk quietly!
What we knew so far was this:
Alex had been seeing Francis for some weeks. Sometimes at night, sometimes during the day. Always in public places. She was fully aware that he probably wanted to get into her pants, but she can take care of herself, she said.
She was trying to get him into rehab. She was trying to show him that he still did have friends in this world.
Was it working? She had no idea. It seemed like it might be. Francis was still using, but he was less hectic. He was talking about maybe, possibly, checking out some of the rehab houses she’d suggested. Dr. Gehrig was, technically, the family doctor, even though Edmond had taken him completely off the care of his own wife. And Gehrig’s methods had gotten Alex off of drugs as well.
She told Francis this. He’d listened, apparently. And this is as far as it had gone.
Enter: Pedro. Which was sudden, out of nowhere, and pretty damn creepy!
He’d called Alex up two nights ago, told her he missed her, told her he still loved her more than the moon and all the snow in the Swiss alps.
She’d told him she was now married. There’d been silence on the other side of the line. And then he’d hung up.
One night ago, Pedro had called her again. He’d said that there was no need to worry, she and he could continue their love affair clandestinely, and her new husband wouldn’t need to know!
“Pedro,” she’d said, “I think you and I had better stop talking.”
“Baby, baby, please—!”
And she’d hung up.
He’d called once more. All this time, Trey had been away. She turned her phone off.
Today—Pedro arrived. He found out where she lived. He’d followed her to the bar with Francis. He’d assumed Francis was her husband—
Now: The door from the pool room opened and Conall said, “You girls want something to drink—”
“NO!” It was a chorus of voices!
Conall’s eyes went wide. He put his hands up in defense. “Sorry. Jeez.” He went back into the pool room and put the music louder.
Dani was riveted to the story. “Carry on, luff!”
Pedro had assumed that Francis was her husband. He stormed into the bar and took a swing at Francis! Francis had fallen to the ground and swung a leg behind Pedro’s leg! Pedro fell! Much like our own bar scuffle last year, it wasn’t long before more people jumped in.
But it was a bouncer that finally broke Pedro’s wrist—
“He broke his wrist!?” Dani again.
Alex nodded. “And t
hat’s where we’re at,” Alex said. “I spoke to Pedro before he got taken away on a stretcher. That’s how I found out he’d been, well, stalking me, for lack of a better word.”
“He’s obsessed,” I said.
“Duh!” Kayla had been very quiet this whole time.
“And my man isn’t obsessed enough!” Dani lamented. She tried to down some more whiskey and saw that the bottle was empty. I poured the last sip of wine into Alex’s glass.
We looked at each other, and then: “CONALL, BABY!” I cried.
He eased furtively through the door. “M’ladies?”
“Baby?” I shook the wine bottle and made a pouty face.
He grinned mischievously. I could tell I was gonna pay for this later. No problem, because the wine had made me horneh!
Conall brought us a few wine bottles (one of which looked big-time expensive!) He ran his fingers through my hair and kissed me. He was stepping out again when Alex said, “Conall, wait.”
We all looked at her. Her face looked suddenly heavy.
“Maybe you should sit,” she said. “I have something to tell you about your brother.”
This was not going to go down well. If there was one thing I knew about Conall, it was that news about his brother’s escapades generally led to Conall getting into a fight, and to an entire gamut of dangerous domino effects to start taking place!
My stomach hurt suddenly.
-5-
The next morning, Sunday, I heard Conall talking on the phone, in his office.
“We need to meet,” Conall said. “Hyde park. Vivienne’s bench.” The bench the Williams family had dedicated to little Vivienne, right on the Princess Diana Memorial Walk, where Vivienne had died in Conall’s arms. “Tomorrow, during the day. ... Well, then make time.”
Deep South (Naive Mistakes #4) Page 14