by Kent, Rina
“That’s your problem? Daddy didn’t love you enough? Pull the other one, Michelle. As if you’ve not fucking enjoyed it. Living in your big house, with your nice car, going on your fancy holidays and getting everything you’ve ever asked for. Try watching your mum pretend she’s not hungry so you can eat. Try not being able to get to sleep because the tin on wheels you call home is so fucking cold, that you’re scared you will wake up dead. Try getting up every weekend at 4am to graft because your dad would beat you senseless if you dared saying no.”
She looks at me for a few moments, her face blank, her eyes blinking due to the rain. Then she opens the door, sliding her soaking wet arse on to the leather seat. “What do you mean?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I tell her. I already said too much, but her “woe is me” attitude rubbed me up the wrong fucking way. She has no idea. I can still remember all of that and do I bitch about it? No, I fucking do not. I watched my dad, I watched how he changed things for us by putting a bit of effort in. And I learned that when something is a problem, you face up to it.
Michelle’s dad would be the same small time jeweller if it wasn’t for my dad. He owned a few shops and no doubt they were comfortable enough. Michelle was already spoilt when I met her, so they can’t have been doing too badly.
A year before that, we were living in a caravan, when my dad happened upon an old friend in the pub one night who had a proposition for him. He’d supply the product, my dad just had to get rid of it. With a bit of effort and determination our fortunes changed that year, and I felt what it was like to live in an actual house with an actual toilet.
He never let me get comfortable though. Not like the pampered princess sitting on my left.
I’d still get sent to bed hungry if I misbehaved. I’d still feel the belt lashing against my back if I disobeyed, if I didn’t do well in school, if I put a foot out of line. I still had to work out in the stables, freezing my little balls off in the dead of winter, or swatting flies in the scorching hot summer. My dad wasn’t a “yes” man. Not like her dad.
Michelle doesn’t know the meaning of problems.
“It does matter,” she says.
No, it doesn’t. A sob story from me isn’t going to change her perspective. I’m not stupid. She’s convinced herself I’m the enemy, and if she wants me for an enemy, then that’s what I intend to give her.
I gave her a choice, and she made it.
I put the car into gear and pull away, driving home in silence and opening the door for her when we get there without saying another word.
Chapter Twelve
MICHELLE
I need to get away from him. I can’t live like this. I’m exhausted from fighting him and I haven’t even really fought him yet.
I head down the stairs for dinner and my mum and dad are sitting at opposite ends of the table. It’s unusual for them both to be home for dinner. My dad is usually working late, and my mum is always out shopping or meeting with friends, or inventing new ways to spend my dad’s money.
I look around at the dining room, at the £100 a roll designer wallpaper and the glass dining table with plush velvet chairs, and the crystal chandelier that hangs above their heads. Maybe Tommy was right, and I am spoiled. But I didn’t want any of it. I never asked for it. I only ever wanted happiness, and for me happiness has always coincided with my freedom.
I’ve been linking the two together for so long that I don’t know how to actually be happy. Everything was resting on escaping. I always had the attitude that happiness was something that came later — once I was free. Maybe that makes me come across as spoilt, like nothing is ever good enough for me. I don’t know.
I sit down at the table and take a helping from each of the bowls. Sausages, mashed potatoes, and peas.
I can’t eat sausages without remembering the barbeque that summer, and I can’t think about that barbeque without remembering what life was like before that. Before they chopped my trees down and before everything changed. I knew how to be happy then; I remember it well.
“Some wine, honey?” Mum asks, nodding at the bottle of red sitting next to her.
“No, thank you.”
My dad takes a drink before clearing his throat. “How was school?”
I smile sweetly at him before replying. “Why don’t you ask Tommy? He lingers around me like a bad smell and I’m going to assume that you’re okay with that.”
My dad looks down at his food. “We’re having a nice family dinner, Michelle. Are you really going to spoil another one?”
I look over at my mum and quickly realize it was stupid to think she would ever stick up for me. The money is too important to her.
I let out a breath that’s not quite a sigh and not quite a laugh either. “Of course not, Dad.”
I push my food around on my plate while the both of them talk shit to each other and pretend like the last five minutes didn’t happen. I’ve lost my appetite.
“Can I be excused?”
My mum looks over at my dad and he sighs, nodding his head. I scrape the chair back along the polished wooden floor and take my plate to the kitchen, dumping the remains in Dollar’s bowl and throwing the plate in the basin.
Then I go out to the chocolate box back garden and play chase with her for a while, trying to clear my head.
I barely said a word to Tommy the next day, other than to remind him that I had swimming practice after school and if he wanted to continue with the taxi service, then he would need to stay back an extra hour. He nodded at me in reply and that was the most I got from him.
Whatever.
I’ve just changed into my costume when I come out of the cubicle and see Kieran Townsley standing at the door. He beckons me over and I wrap a towel around myself, confused over what the hell he’s doing poking his face inside the girls changing rooms.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him.
He looks around and takes a step back out of the door. “I’m sorry, I need to speak to you and I figure this is the safest place right now.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just wait,” he whispers, nodding inside at the others.
And so we wait.
We wait until every last swimmer has gone out to the pool, and then he finally opens the door and steps inside the changing room.
“I mean, this is the one place I can probably talk to you without him finding out and dragging you away,” he says.
“I’m sorry, Kieran, but I really don’t want to be late for practice,” I tell him, glancing over my shoulder in the direction of the pool.
He was walking away, pacing the room slightly but now he turns around to face me. “I saw you in the car park on Tuesday.”
Tuesday? Oh, right… Tuesday. That was the day I got a detention.
“I was staying late, working on the newsletter and I saw what he was doing to you. I saw the way he pulled you away on Monday. It’s not right, Shelly.” He shakes his head with sympathetic eyes.
Only people who know me call me Shelly.
“What are you saying, Kieran? You think I don’t already know that?”
He’s beginning to irritate me. I was looking forward to a good swim, I had planned to push myself until my body was exhausted and then maybe I could fall asleep tonight before 2am. I’m late, and the last thing I need is a concerned onlooker reminding me of my insurmountable problems.
“I’m going to suggest something, and I realize it’s none of my business and I could be way out of line here… but hear me out,” he says, placing his hand on my shoulder just like I did to him the other day. Shit. In hindsight Kieran Townsley was probably the wrong guy to choose for that little display.
“What do you mean?.”
He nods quickly. “Okay… what if I told you I’d thought of a way for you to get out of it?”
“I tried that,” I tell him. “It didn’t work. Do you not think I’ve thought of that? I have no money, no car.”
“What if I’d th
ought of a way to get you money?”
“What are you saying? I need a lot of money.”
“I’m saying you need a lot of money, and your father owns a jewelery shop. Just get me the key. I don’t condone stealing under normal circumstances, but he’s the one forcing you to do this, right?”
He’s looking at me like he expects an answer right away. I can’t give him an answer, but I don’t shoot him down either. I turn around while I try to think. Could he do it? Could I do it? Would we get away with it?
“What if you get caught?” That’s an enormous risk for someone to take, someone who barely even knows me.
“I won’t get caught. Just get me in the building, and I can over-ride the alarm system and the security footage. I’ll take enough to make sure that you never have to marry Tommy Heenan,” he says. His tone is confident, his eyes are pleading.
I mean, it’s not the worst idea. It’s not a very good idea either, but if he could pull it off, then it would solve a whole heap of problems. I would have cold hard cash, and I’d have a way of getting out.
“You’re sure about this?”
I look into his eyes for any sign of doubt and I don’t see any.
“I’m sure. I’m not the type of person to get myself on the wrong side of the law, we won’t get caught — trust me.”
Trust. That’s a concept I’m not familiar with and a skill I had no intention of learning.
But maybe I’d get further in life if I tried it.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
I nod.
“I won’t let you down, I swear. Just get me access. I’ll get everything sorted at my end, and by next week, you’ll not have to worry about any of them.”
“Next week? Why not sooner?”
He shakes his head. “I have to sort some things out first. Don’t worry though. Just try to be nice to him, okay? See if you can earn yourself some freedom. I’ll need someone to keep watch when I’m in there, and if you want to keep this between us, then it’s better if that person is you. It will help too, with your own sanity.”
I search his face, not answering or nodding, just thinking about how the hell I could be nice to Tommy Heenan.
“Just try to be nice. Promise me? I don’t want you to get hurt, not when we’re so close.”
I get what he’s saying, I didn’t choose the being nice plan originally for a reason — I don’t think I’m capable of it. But if there is a clear goal in sight then maybe I can bring myself to do it.
Maybe.
“Okay, I’ll be careful,” I tell him, nodding my head and trying to convince him, as well as myself.
“No provoking him like yesterday,” he says, smiling.
“Best behavior.” I hold out my pinky finger for a promise.
“That a girl. Okay, I better go before I get caught in here. Or pass out from the smell of deodorant,” he says, chuckling.
I laugh, politely. It wasn’t that funny, really. “Thank you,” I tell him as he ducks out of the door, and that bit wasn’t just out of politeness. The laugh was fake, but the thanks was sincere, for giving me hope that maybe happiness might still be possible.
Now I just need to work out how to make Tommy buy this abrupt change in attitude from me. He’s only ever seen me with my teeth bared, scratching at his eyes with my claws. I think on it while I practice, after apologizing to the coach for being late.
I don’t push myself like I had intended to, because I’m too busy trying to think. And then it hits me. He stole my homework, so I stole his car. Now he’s going to get one up on me. He’s going to steal my clothes.
I get out of the pool after practice and I take my bag and put it in a different locker. Then I sit in a cubicle and wait until the room empties of the other swimmers.
Then I wait.
And I wait some more.
I’m waiting so long that I’m almost convinced he’s got sick of waiting for me and fucked off home. But I’m sure he wouldn’t do that. When I finally hear the changing room door open, I swing my legs up on the bench and wrap my arms around my knees, creating a little ball with my body.
“Michelle?”
It’s him. I sniff, as if I’m crying. Or at least, very upset.
I hear the cubicle door swing open at the end of the stalls, and then his footsteps on the tiles as he makes his way along the line, pushing each door open. The one next to me creaks and I sniff again, for added effect.
He opens the door to my cubicle and holds it open with his arm when he sees me.
“What the fuck’s wrong with you?”
I turn my head and look at him. “Very funny!”
He does a double take. “Michelle, what are you playing at? Get dressed.”
I lift my head now, my eyes narrowing on him. “How exactly can I do that when you took my clothes? You’ve gone too far, Tommy.” My voice breaks at the end and even I start to believe he actually took my clothes.
“I didn’t touch them?”
I swing my legs down from the bench and stand up. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m so fucking tired of fighting you,” I tell him. “Congratulations, you won the crown. I don’t want it anymore. You want a princess or a queen or a slave or whatever else, then you’ve got it. You’ve got whatever you want.” I take a step towards him. “You win. Just give me my clothes back.”
He shakes his head at me. “I told you, I didn’t take them. I’m many things, but I’m not a liar.”
“Then who did? They’re not in my locker?” I push passed him and walk over to the lockers, opening up the one I had originally and pointing inside it. He walks over and peers in, and I don’t move out of the way for him, letting his body press up against my side. I look up at his face, acting all innocent like the damsel in distress I’m playing so fucking easily.
He shakes his head and huffs, opening the lockers beside it. He continues along the row until he stops and bends down, retrieving my bag.
“Is this it?” He holds the bag up expectantly and I smile at him, nodding.
“That’s it.”
He starts laughing. “What the fuck did you do? Forget where you put it?”
I shrug him off, taking my bag off him and nudging playfully before I walk away. “Must have forgot. I told you I was at my wits end.” I slide the straps from my swimsuit down my arms, glancing back to him while I shimmy it over my stomach.
“You could have fooled me yesterday when you were trying to fucking kill me,” he says.
I turn around and smile playfully at him, to confirm he’s still watching. He is. “Did you die, though?” I crouch down and pull my shirt out of my bag, deciding not to bother with a bra. I slip my arms in while I’m down there and grab my skirt.
“No. But I came pretty fucking close to it in that toilet.”
I pull my skirt up over my thighs and let it sit high on my hips, reaching under and pulling my swimsuit down my legs. Shoving it inside my bag, I decide not to bother with underwear either.
When I turn around my shirt is still undone, but he’s not seeing anything he hasn’t seen already. Doesn’t stop him staring at me though. I start doing my buttons up slowly. “You’re gonna catch flies if you stand there with your mouth open like that.”
He chuckles, pushing off from the locker and walking towards me, confident as fuck. “My mouth’ll be catching more than flies if you’re gonna make this a permanent thing, darlin.” He nods down at the place where my underwear should be and I turn around just before he reaches me, sliding my feet into my trainers and heading for the door.
“And then you woke up, chewing on your pillow.” I tell him, giggling while I let the door swing shut in his face.
I glance back to see him catch it with his foot and I’m already on the second step, heading up to the pool exit. I pick up my pace, taking the steps two at a time while he follows. I don’t look back to see if he’s looking, because I already know he will be, and I can’t say I’m not enjoying it.
He a
cts like he’s this big tough guy, like he’s the one with all the power and all the control. And yet look at him now, following me up the stairs like I’m the queen and he’s the servant.
Maybe I can do this. I’m not exactly being nice to him, but we’re not shooting daggers from our mouths or ripping each other's ears off either. I can play the tease easily enough if that’s the thing that’ll buy me my freedom.
I have absolutely no shame in that respect.
Chapter Thirteen
TOMMY
I watch her strut up those stairs like they were built just for her, and even if I wanted to pretend that she wasn’t affecting me, my cock has other ideas.
She’s done it again though, changed from a sad and innocent girl to a confident vixen within the space of a few heartbeats.
How the fuck does she do it?
And was any of it even real?
I used to think Michelle McLean was a spoilt stuck up cow who looked down her nose at people. Now I think she’s a master manipulator, and she only lets people see what she wants them to see.
“I need to ask you something and I want you to promise you won’t freak out,” she tells me as she gets in the car.
I close the door for her and get in my own side. “Shoot.”
She cocks an eyebrow at me. “Ada is going away for the weekend and Lawrie is having food at her house tonight, since we won’t see her. Can you drop me there and pick me up?”
“No.” I don’t even have to think about it. I won’t have it. I don’t trust her a single bit and I’ve not spent the whole week keeping tabs on her just so she can sneak off again. I brace myself for the inevitable petted lip and huff whenever she hears that word.
But she doesn’t, she just nods and looks out of the window. She looks more sad than annoyed.
“I can’t trust you,” I tell her, suddenly feeling the urge to explain myself.