Breaking Joseph (31 page)

Matt had done
me a lovely favour, but God, I was so massively obligated, too.

I sank onto my
bed and bashed out a quick email to Clemmie. A pixelated olive
branch. I was moving next week, my flat would be empty and paid
for…did she want it?

Then I stared
at my pillow, the one that had been indented after the dream of
Joseph not so long ago. I wondered if the haunting would follow me
to Salisbury.

I wondered why
a girl like me wished to dream of ghosts.

Chapter 17

Clemmie hadn’t
replied to my email by lunchtime so I comforted myself with an
oiled, fragrant bath.

I’d barely
rinsed my hair when the doorbell shrieked, and though I wasn’t
expecting anyone, the damn thing kept on ringing.

“Hold on!” I
yelled, struggling to pat myself down before throwing on oversized
pyjamas. “I’ll be there in a…one minute…” I tugged the lock open.
“Oh. Fuck.”

Kenji cocked an
eyebrow at my flushed, dishevelled state. “Sorry,” he said.

I stepped from
foot to foot, my arms firmly folded. “Um. Can I help you?”

He took a great
breath. “We need to talk,” he said.

“We do?”

“Yeah.” His
hands writhed in his pockets. “It’s about Elise. And Joe.
And–everything. Look. Can I just come in, please?”

I considered
this for longer than was polite, probably, but it was hard not to
be dubious. I’d never had Kenji pinned as an aggressor, but he
sounded terse and had no reason to be on my side right now.

“I’m not sure
it’s a good idea,” I mumbled.

“Leila, I’m not
going to do anything shitty. I just want to clear a few things
up.”

Reluctantly, I
stood aside and he strode in. I nodded at the sofa and he scooped a
pile of magazines to the floor so he could sit down.

I perched on
the footstool, peeling the towel from my wet hair. “Well?” I
said.

“I don’t know
exactly why you left Bach and Dagier. I know why Joe
thought
you did, but he can’t prove a thing. Elise is pretty heartbroken
either way.”

“I haven’t
stolen anything,” I said quietly. “It was a personal decision not
to take the job.”

“Only here’s
the thing.” He meshed his fingers and tapped the knot against his
knees. “Last night, at a party…that Poppy girl was pretty drunk.
The one who took your job, that is.”

Oh fuck.
Fuck.

“Right…”

“Elise was
upset again because it was supposed to be your party. You know what
she’s like, Leila. She had a couple cocktails and started confiding
in everyone.” He stared at me. “Poppy took great pleasure in
telling her that you left because you’re a prostitute.”

I gazed at the
floor again, waiting for the rabbit. I’d kept my part of the deal.
Poppy wasn’t supposed to tell.

“I would’ve
thought she was talking shit, but hey.” An awkward laugh. “You know
Joe’s history. And so does Elise. Jesus, Leila. She doesn’t want to
think that’s what you are after what you did with her.”

“I really liked
Elise. I’ve never…I mean…” I gestured helplessly. “I don’t really
see how this is any of your business.”

“Are you
admitting it, then? Are you fucking people for money? Joe wouldn’t
talk about it. Figures, huh?”

I glared at
him. “I think you ought to leave.”

“So that’s it,
then.” He rose. “You know what? I love her. I love her and she’s in
pieces, thinking that you did it because that’s just what you
do.
She liked you. It was bad enough when she thought you
were taking all the case details somewhere else but she really,
really trusted you!”

“I’ve done
nothing wrong! Do you think I chose all this?” I shouted before I
could help myself. I was so sick of losing friends over this–at the
rate I was going, I’d have nothing left. “Joe won’t talk to you
because he doesn’t know anything. I wasn’t allowed to tell him and
I’m not about to tell you!”

His black
eyebrows sank together in confusion. “What are you talking
about?”

“You know
nothing about me,” I snapped. “Maybe you should be asking why Poppy
was announcing that kind of thing in the first place. Why she
enjoyed it so fucking much.” My teeth sank down to stem my lip from
trembling. “She’s not supposed to tell anyone. She broke the
deal…”

“What deal?” He
glanced about and then sat down again, his shoulders hunched.
“Did…did somebody make you leave?”

A deep breath
did little to quash dancing nerves. “What do you think?”

“I think I
can’t do anything unless you stop talking in riddles.”

“It doesn’t
matter now,” I muttered. “I found another job. I’m leaving in a
week. The damage has been done, hasn’t it?”

Inside, his
thoughts were racing and blending. Almond-shaped eyes narrowed with
it. “Does Joe know?”

“That I’m
leaving? Can’t see how he would.”

“No. That
somebody made you quit, Leila.” He grimaced. “Because if he
doesn’t, I think he deserves to.”

“Yeah, well.” I
wrung the towel in my hands. “I’m really not supposed to be talking
about this, okay? It could fuck everything up.”

He threw a hand
over his shoulder. “On a scale of one to fucked, one is way back
there!”

“I wish it was
that simple.” I tried laughing. I sounded like a bleating lamb.

“Did you make
out with Lise because you wanted to, or for something else?”

I felt pink
bloom along my cheekbones. “I wanted to,” I murmured. “There was
nothing in it but that.”

“But you were
taking money. From some people,” he said carefully. “Is that
true?”

“I still don’t
see that it’s any of your business.”

“But if you
were. Would Joe…would he have known about your, erm, other
job?”

“I’ll let you
be the judge of that.”

He sat back,
watching me for a single blink. “You were blackmailed, weren’t
you?”

“Maybe,” I
muttered.

We sat in
silence. He didn’t know what to make of me, the prim lawyer turned
call girl who was breaking before his eyes, and there were a
hundred questions he was too polite to ask.

“I really think
you ought to go now,” I said eventually.

“That’s
all?”

“Yeah.” I got
to my feet and gestured to the door. “That’s all.” I shuffled along
behind him in my huge pyjamas. “Will you tell Elise that I’m
sorry?”

“I will.” He
clawed at his chin. “I don’t know how I’m going to explain any of
it, though.”

“I’m meant to
keep it all a secret. It’s part of the deal I made,” I said
forlornly. “Please don’t tell anyone?”

“Joe would have
expected you to go to him.”

“I couldn’t. I
wasn’t–” I lowered my eyes. “I’d rather be his regret than his
disappointment.”

He looked back
at me as he walked down the hall. “Congratulations,” he called.
“You got both in one.”

* * * *

Will rang later
that afternoon to book me in. He was sweet as anything about
Salisbury and I wanted so badly to squish him into a hug.

“I was
expecting this, you know,” he said warmly.

“I’ll go on
until Thursday,” I insisted. “I want to cover the cost of the
photos at least. I’m sorry for messing you about like this.”

“Don’t be so
pathetic, you wet bitch. Now where shall I send the car?”

I wasn’t due at
the hotel until midnight. By eight, I was slathered in a wrap dress
and strolling around to Matt’s flat. Today had, on Kenji’s scale of
one to fucked, teetered depressingly toward the wrong end. I
couldn’t even drink my nerves away–I had a date with Frustrated
from Abu Dhabi and needed to perform without passing out–so would
have to rely on the company of good friends.

“Lei-Lei! Look
at you, you trollop. It’s a house party, not a coke-fuelled gang
bang.”

Like Aidan.

“Are the shoes
too much?” I wore the Louboutins Joseph had given me. Their red
soles just weren’t made to languish in the wardrobe; they longed to
escape and paint the town.

He stood aside
as I tottered in. “It’s the cleavage. And the porn hair.” He
twisted a stray curl around his finger. “You know a girl has too
much time on her hands when she’s cracked out the granny
rollers.”

“You.” I
prodded his chest. “Can sod off.”

I hadn’t been
in Matt’s flat since my disastrous visit after seducing Isobel.
He’d always visited me so I could avoid the disapproving glares
from Toby. Now despite the fuzzy guitar music and the maze of
bodies sprawled out through the rooms, I was reminded of shadows
under TV light and a cold spoon tumbling into my lap.

Oh God,
everyone was in jeans. I should have worn the pair I bought in New
York–I was so proud of myself for branching out from Fuck Me
Clothes.

“Leila. Hey.”
Matt beckoned me over in the kitchen area, holding out an arm. “You
remember these guys, yeah?”

Greg, Johnny
and Eton, his rugby buddies, eyed me over their beer bottles, and I
nodded soberly.

“I
remember.”

“D’you want a
drink?” he asked.

“Please.
Something that won’t get me drunk.”

“Where’s the
fun in that?” Greg said, pretending to scowl. “Have some gin. We’ve
got about three bottles, for some reason.”

“It was all I
could find in my Dad’s cupboard.” Eton sighed.

“That,” said
Johnny, “is because he’s a homo.”

Aidan sniggered
as he stumbled through. “He’s only a homo if there was
Advocat!”

I took a glass
of orange juice from Matt and sniffed it in suspicion.

“Like I’d do
that,” he said, looking wounded.

“Evil boy, out
to poison me.”

“I am not!”

“Matthew!” Two
preppy-looking lads and a pretty blond girl appeared beside me. “No
wonder you’re moving. This flat’s a dump.”

“Cheers.” Matt
laughed, clapping the ginger guy on the shoulder. He was about to
introduce them and then we exchanged glances; they were from Bach
and Dagier.

The girl, with
her full curls and fuller shirt, I guessed was Sabine.

“Come on,” Matt
said, gesturing to the sitting area. “I’ll show you around, if you
can bear it.”

Sabine was the
girl who had ended Matt’s relationship with Niamh; when the
girlfriend came to visit one evening, she found the blonde in his
bed. She was pure calendar material and hardly the type I expected
Matt to like. Maybe that was half the reason he’d ended up with her
in the first place.

“So.” Johnny
cocked an eyebrow at me. “Moving in with Matthew.”

“Yeah.” I
sipped my juice and nodded politely.

Greg leaned in.
“Moving in,” he repeated, grinning.

“As friends,” I
said. “We’re going to work together.”

“I love how
you’re so coy about it.” Greg laughed. “We’re all friends here,
Leila. You can admit it. He won’t, but he’s a bit sad like that.
You
can.”

“Leave her
alone, you arse.” Johnny shook his head.

“We really are
just friends,” I said weakly. “We’ll have separate rooms.”

He sighed.
“You’re discreet. I’ll give you that.”

Jesus. I
wish!

“I’m going to
go and find Aidan,” I said. “Nice to see you again.”

Johnny shrugged
helplessly and I shot him a sheepish smile.

I was too busy
making sure I didn’t topple on my heels to notice where I was
going; there was a space in front of me one second and the next, a
very firm shoulder. Then there was the dull thump of impact and my
chest was doused in cold beer.

“Fuck. Sorry,”
he exclaimed, jumping back.

“Sorry, sorry.
I–” I glanced up at him. “Oh.”

“Mmm. Hello
again,” said Ben Rafferty, his face creased in embarrassment.
“Shall I…um. Shall I get you a towel?”

“Please.” I
watched the muscles roll under his fitted t-shirt as he hurried
off. The hot boy who thought I was retarded was at Matt’s party.
Awesome.

He returned a
minute later with a wad of napkins and in a corner, I patted myself
down.

“You can go
now,” I said. “I might be a bit special, but I can dry myself
off.”

“I’m sorry
about that, you know.” He failed at suppressing a smile. “It’s just
that on the phone, you sounded–”

“I know, I
know. I was a bit drunk when I called,” I admitted.

“It’s like
something from a bad comedy sketch.”

“I suppose so.”
I grimaced down at my still-soaked dress. “So how do you know
Matt?”

“Oh. Used to
play rugby with him.”

Immaculate
hair, manicured nails. Metrosexuals do not play rugby. “You don’t
look like the type,” I teased.

“I wasn’t, to
be fair. You’ve got me. I’m a pansy.” He glanced about and leaned
in to whisper. “Don’t tell anyone else, will you?”

Was he flirting
with me? It’d been ages since I’d enjoyed flirting with anybody who
hadn’t paid me for sex.

“What about
you?” he asked. “How come you’re here?”

“We worked
together. We’re still going to work together, actually…I’m moving
with him.”

“I didn’t know
he had a girlfriend,” Ben said.

“Oh, I’m not.
We’re not.”

His eyes lit up
in the dim corner. “Right.” He smiled. “I’m going to get another
drink. Wait here for me?”

No. Capital NO.
I couldn’t sleep with him. I was due at work in…yep, just under
three hours. I’d barely have time to shower off the beer, let alone
the smell of another man.

But he did
smell rather lovely.

“I got you
another one,” Ben declared, handing me plastic cup of juice.

“Thanks.”

“Tell me a bit
about what you’re going off to do in Salisbury, then.”

As I chatted,
he bent his head close to listen above the row of the party, and it
was then I recognized the fresh, sharp scent of him.

He wore the
same aftershave as Joseph. He had the same big green eyes, too.