Lying in Shadows

by Sofia Grey

  “You’re saying that we stop? That you want to go back to your ex?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry.” Her heart lurched at the shock in his eyes.

  “Shit. Marianne... I don’t know what to say.”

  “We were only ever a temporary thing. I’m not planning on being your long-term mistress.”

  He pulled her into his arms and held tight. “I told you I’m going to leave Louisa. Don’t you believe me?” His voice was low and etched in pain.

  “This isn’t about you and Louisa.” Not completely.

  “When are you seeing him? Your ex?”

  “Next week.”

  “And until then? Will you stay with me?”

  She closed her eyes a moment. She wasn’t seeing AJ until the end of next week. A little longer with Marcus wouldn’t hurt. “Yes. But then it stops.”

  He kissed the side of her neck. “Let’s make the most of it,” he murmured, his voice so soft, she strained to hear him.

  * * * *

  Alex was in heaven, in his newly built studio. Once he nailed “Aurora”, thanks to Sylvie and her excellent idea, it was as though a tap was unblocked in his head. Actually, more like a dam had collapsed.

  He was swept away on a surge of inspiration. Riffs, lead breaks, choruses—they came pouring out. It was as much as he could do, to play them and record the bare essentials.

  Sylvie—bless her—took charge of the furniture deliveries, while Alex stayed in the studio all day. She brought him coffee and sandwiches, fresh orange juice and a jug of ice water, but didn’t interrupt—just left him to it.

  He sat back, feeling exhausted but satisfied. The seclusion in his basement was absolute. He’d no idea if it was night or day. He loved that he could lock himself into his own little world. It felt a bit like running away.

  He stood, stretched, and yawned. His mind was tired, but his body still fizzed on adrenaline. This was how he got when they performed—tired, yet wired at the same time. In the old days, he’d drop a few downers, but not anymore. He rippled through a few soothing bars on the PRS, while he contemplated the reunion gig Frankie was setting up for next year.

  When Alex thought about the gig, he was terrified. That was why he tried to avoid it.

  A rustling made him look up. To his amusement, Sylvie was curled up and sound asleep in one of the chairs at the back. What the hell time was it?

  Almost two thirty in the morning.

  “C’mon, Syl. It’s bedtime.” He squeezed her arm, and she woke.

  Her alarm gave way to a sleepy smile.

  “How long have you been sitting here?” he asked.

  She yawned. “I snuck in around eleven. It sounds great. Is this your new material?”

  “Yeah.” He warmed at the praise. He felt alert and in need of a distraction. “You want a snack, or are you going to bed? I’ve finished for tonight.”

  “Eh, I’m awake now; I may as well join you. What are you planning?”

  Alex took her hand and hauled her up. “Cheese and crackers, I think.” He gazed at her. “You’re good for me, Sylvie. It’s thanks to you that I’ve spent the night in here.”

  “And all day, leaving me to sort out your furniture.” It sounded like a grumble but was delivered with a teasing smile.

  Yeah, he liked having her around.

  They hung out in the kitchen for a while, long enough to collect snacks from the fridge and a bottle of wine. For the moment, wine was the strongest Alex drank, and in moderation. It was too soon to say his drinking was under control, but it was a step in the right direction.

  With a music channel playing on the TV in the background, and good company to unwind with, Alex felt himself relaxing. Sylvie peeped at him over the top of her glass, as though about to speak but hesitating.

  “You can ask me anything. Go for it,” he said.

  “Okay. I guess I’m a bit nervous about meeting Charlie and Mick.”

  “They’re my oldest friends. We’ve hung out together since primary school. Mick’s quiet, but Charlie runs wild. The legends about his party lifestyle are pretty close to the truth, but he’s solid. They both are.” He’d missed them. Fuelled by grief and anger, he’d sought solitude, but they’d have his back if he asked.

  Sylvie nodded, dark eyes huge in her pale face. “I can’t imagine what it must be like to play to thousands of people. How do you do it? I mean, what’s it really like?”

  “Fucking awesome.” She raised her eyebrows, and he went on. “And bone-chillingly, vomit-inducingly fucking petrifying at the same time.” He took a sip of wine and corralled his thoughts. “The hours before are a nightmare. You’re nervous—you can never predict how the crowd will behave—and usually you’re all bitching at each other about trivial stuff. We’ve always tried to have a no-booze rule before a gig. Get wasted afterward, but stay sober on stage. It’s a huge responsibility. People pay good money to come, and it’s up to us to perform, to make sure they get their money’s worth.”

  He carved a chunk of blue cheese and crumbled it onto a cracker. “We bent the no-booze rule to allow a few uppers in the early days. You know—get us a bit wired. But then the adrenaline surge when you walk on stage... Man, there’s nothing like it. The first stadium gig we played, the Manchester City football ground... I never imagined so many people would come to see us. We were the homeboys, back on our own turf after a successful tour of Europe and riding high in the charts. And since then, it’s mostly been the big concerts.

  “It’s lonely up there. You’re tiny figures in front of a sea of faces. The lights make you sweat in minutes. When you get to the end of the first number, and you can gauge the crowd, the applause feels like it’ll knock you over. It’s addictive.”

  Their gazes met. She was enthralled.

  “And then when it’s over, you’re physically wiped out but still with a buzz. A rush like no other. That’s when we’d booze up, get stoned or high—whatever our particular poison at the time. All designed to get us off our heads.” He gazed at the floor. “That bit’s not pretty.”

  “Do you go to the after-show parties? Meet the fans and all that?”

  “They were fun, the first couple of tours. We thought we were invincible. Our management encouraged us to act up, be the bad boys. The loudest. The party animals to end all parties.” He shivered at the memory. “Before long, they became a blur of hotel rooms, city airports, and bottles of vodka. Nameless faces, wanting a part of you. Everyone always wants something from you.”

  A crunching startled him. He looked at his plate and saw he’d scrunched the cracker into pieces. He pushed the plate away, dusted off the crumbs, and took a sip of wine. “Actually, that’s not true anymore. People like Jordan and Kate, Louisa, you and Rico... You’re different. You guys are real. You keep me grounded and remind me this is the real deal; the rest is play acting.” He toasted her with his glass, and she looked pleased.

  “Anyway, we’ve got tomorrow to run through all the numbers in order, in readiness for the others to arrive on Friday,” he said. “And then do you fancy helping me on the new stuff? I’d appreciate your input.”

  Sylvie sat up straight, her eyes bright. “I’d love to. Thank you.”

  He forced himself to think about the new material and the life he was building now. If talking about the old days wasn’t good for his mental health, how would he cope when he was thrust back into the spotlight? He feared the worst.

  * * * *

  Sylvie heard her phone trilling. She scrabbled around to find it, eyes still tightly closed, trying to hold on to her comfortable dream state until the last moment possible. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Silverwood.” Rico’s velvety tone woke her fully, and she snuggled back under the duvet with the phone pressed to her ear.

  “Hey, you. What time is it?” It felt like the middle of the night.

  “It’s six thirty, Thursday morning.” He sounded amused.

  “Uh huh.” She tried to stifle a yawn. “I had a late night. Sorry.
How are you today?”

  “I’m looking forward to seeing you this weekend. And I need to warn you about something.”

  His words cut through her tiredness better than a quad-shot espresso. She sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “What’s happened now?”

  “Well, the good news is you’re cleared of anything to do with the stolen laptop. The bad news is that Marianne and Marcus have decided they want you to come back to the office. I said no, but there’s a good chance they’ll try to talk you around this weekend. They’re coming up for the party. If they catch you while I’m not there, don’t agree to anything.”

  She digested his news. Relief was her first reaction. “I’m not a suspect anymore? I can have my job back?”

  “Yeah, but not yet, babe. I’m taking your safety seriously. Marianne and Marcus want to use you to flush out the mole.”

  “I don’t think I like the sound of that.”

  “Me either. Marcus is under a lot of pressure from Houston, but that still doesn’t make it a good idea. Trouble is he’s thinking with his dick at the moment, and not being objective.”

  “Rico, was that email right? Are they are having an affair?”

  He hesitated. “It’s none of my business, and I try to ignore it, but they’re acting like a pair of kids. I asked them to be discreet, but they don’t seem to care. It’s making Marcus blind to common sense.”

  He sounded so fed up, Sylvie longed to hug him. “I’ve met Louisa, his wife, and she’s lovely. They have a gorgeous little boy. She seems really happy with Marcus.”

  “It sucks. The sooner this is all cleared up, the better,”

  They chatted a few minutes longer, then Rico had to leave for the office. Sylvie lay in bed, thinking about Louisa, Marcus, and Marianne. She knew Louisa now. Knew her to be warm and caring, friendly and affectionate, and very much in love with her two-timing rat of a husband. It made Sylvie feel sick to think about it. It’d also be difficult to forget what she knew when she next met Louisa.

  It was no use trying to get back to sleep; she was wide awake. She showered, dressed, and headed downstairs, to practice some more in the studio. She didn’t want to wake Alex when they’d had so little sleep the night before.

  She worked through the playlist, and then moped around, unable to settle. Alex found her in the kitchen, staring unhappily out of the window.

  “Hey. You been up long?” He looked bright eyed and in a good mood. “Ah, you made coffee.” He helped himself to a mug, then stared at her. “Is something the matter?”

  She shrugged. This was private. Alex was a friend of Louisa’s. Part of her wanted the opportunity to unload, while the sensible side advised caution.

  She’d tell him the bare minimum. “I’ve been talking to Rico. He says my boss is keen for me to go back to the office, though Rico doesn’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “He thinks you’re still in danger? You know you can stay here as long as you want.”

  “Thanks. And yes, he does.”

  “Your boss doesn’t agree?”

  “Apparently not.” Sylvie massaged her temples, feeling a stress headache looming. What a sucky start to the day.

  Alex took a sip of coffee and gazed at her. “Why does your boss disagree with Rico? Maybe there’s something else going on.”

  That was a giant understatement. Sylvie’s cheeks heated, and Alex frowned.

  “You’ve gone a charming shade of pink. What did I just say?” he asked.

  His eyes were kind, his smile friendly, and Sylvie felt a desperate need for someone to talk to. “My boss... She’s having an affair with Marcus.” Sylvie instantly regretted blurting it out.

  “Marcus?” Alex looked puzzled. “Louisa’s Marcus?”

  She nodded.

  “Fuck.” He stared, appalled. “You’re sure?”

  “I was sent pictures of them snogging, and I hoped that was all, but it’s not. Rico told me. He wouldn’t make it up.”

  Alex muttered something under his breath and turned away. “Louisa was worried.” He spoke quietly, almost to himself. “She told me she was afraid Marcus was seeing someone else. And then she seemed so happy, I thought they were fine.” He looked back at Sylvie. “Remember on Monday, when she dropped by? She told me everything was wonderful between them.”

  He looked as though the weight of the world sat on his shoulders, and Sylvie regretted telling him. She placed a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s going to make things difficult for you, and it was selfish of me to dump it on you like that.”

  “I guess. It’s not your fault, though, that she’s married to a cheating bastard. It’s no reflection on you.”

  “I’m going to get some fresh air. Can I please borrow that huge coat again?”

  “Yeah. Help yourself.” Sylvie got as far as the door, when he called to her. “You going on the beach? D’you mind some company?”

  “Sure.” How could she refuse?

  He grabbed a coat, and they set off together. It wasn’t raining, and the sun was trying to peep out of the clouds, but it was still bitterly cold. They walked in silence to the tumbled-down wall at the back of his property.

  “I find the beach helps to clear my head.” He glanced across at her. “I think I always wanted to live near the sea.” They scrambled over the sand dune together, and he held out his hand, to help her down the other side. Twenty-four hours ago they were in such a good mood here. It could have been weeks.

  Alex wandered along the sand, while Sylvie trailed a few feet behind. The guy with the telescope was there again, and closer to Alex’s end of the beach now.

  Sylvie stared for a moment, then hurried to catch Alex. “That guy has a camera as well, with a huge lens on it. Are you sure he’s a birdwatcher?”

  Alex stopped, turned, and gazed for a few moments, before resuming his plodding pace. “Well spotted. I hope he’s not from the bloody gutter press. I hate paparazzi.”

  “Maybe we’d better go back.” Sylvie felt uneasy about being photographed too. Alex wasn’t the only one trying to keep a low profile.

  * * * *

  Marianne spent the night in Marcus’s bed again. It seemed natural to stay there, well away from the TM-Tech office.

  It was strange, she reflected as she climbed into a shared taxi in the morning—their affair had morphed onto yet another level.

  What started as a refusal to get involved, became a drunken one-night stand, and then developed into a series of frenzied rutting sessions, had now evolved to a different animal altogether. Last night, they made love.

  Marianne understood shagging, fucking, screwing, and banging, but the only other person who ever made love to her was AJ, and now she was confused.

  Marcus was tender and gentle. He treated her like the most important thing in his life—as though he put his body and soul into their lovemaking. They curled around each other, fingers entwined and legs tangled, and stayed there listening to their hearts beating.

  What happened to the quick fling? The clock was ticking for how long she had left with Marcus, and she didn’t want to lose a minute.

  It was only after she sat at her desk, that Marianne realised they were holding hands when they walked into the building. Discretion was in a different universe.

  Marcus announced he was cancelling the daily briefings. There wasn’t enough news to make them worthwhile. There would be a catch-up on Friday afternoon, before they left London for Jordan’s party, and they’d resume the week after.

  For the first time ever, Marianne didn’t care about work. She ignored Rico’s permanent scowl, and went through the motions of reviewing documents and holding meetings, but her mind was elsewhere.

  She was on the verge of falling in love with Marcus, and that couldn’t happen. She’d been half in love with him for years, but managed to hold him at arm’s length, only that didn’t apply now. He was married. She’d see his wife in a couple of days and have to suffer watching them to
gether. Marianne wanted to believe him, that he’d separate from Louisa, but she’d seen this happen too many times before. Friends had fallen for married men, been taken in by pretty words and sexy times in bed, and then paid the price later.

  It crossed her mind to make an excuse, to stay in London and not go to the party, but she wanted to meet Jordan and help persuade him to join the audit team.

  Did she need Sylvie to come back? No. Not at all. They could recruit a temp to help with the basic admin, and give more responsibility to Lara. It was a wild and random idea to use Sylvie as a lure. Marianne would tell Rico so as soon as she saw him.

  * * * *

  Alex felt proud of himself on Friday morning, for staying away from alcohol last night. After hearing Sylvie’s revelation and seeing the potential journo on the beach, a low level of anxiety nagged at him all night. It would have been easy to flush it away on a tide of vodka, but he resisted.

  Today would be busy, and he needed to be on the ball. Charlie and Mick were due by lunchtime, and the band had to get the playlist nailed down. Sylvie was nervous about meeting them, and if he was honest, he felt stressed too. He hadn’t seen them since Sam’s funeral, and Alex wasn’t at his best then.

  Their arrival, and the subsequent intense rehearsal session would put off the moment he saw Louisa again. He wished Sylvie hadn’t said anything. He’d rather have stayed in ignorance.

  He was having a late breakfast with Sylvie, when Jordan dropped by “Hey, there.” He smiled at them both, looking relaxed and comfortable.

  Sylvie poured him some coffee.

  Alex hadn’t considered how he’d react when he saw Jordan, with this new knowledge about Louisa. He knew how close the cousins were, and he was pretty sure Jordan knew nothing about his best friend cheating on her.

  “How’s it going, Sylvie?” Jordan was only being friendly, but she flushed a deep red and glanced at Alex. She was almost certainly thinking of Louisa too.

  “Fine. Thanks.” She managed a little smile and grabbed her coffee. “I’ll be upstairs.” Her toast was left untouched when she fled from the kitchen.