Breaking Leila (21 page)

He shrugged. “Me either. The worst bit was that I kept
thinking I needed to ring Niamh and tell her about all this crazy
stuff that I’d done–but I couldn’t, because I’d done it
to
 
her
. I was just as bad as Mom, and
I’d seen how it wrecked Dad’s life.”

“If it helps,
I’m not much good at being faithful, either.”

“I’d kind of
guessed that.” He laughed, incredulous. “Hopeless pair we make,
huh?”

Ugh…if only he
knew. “So that’s it between you two?”

“No.
Unfortunately. I spent the next year or so feeling horribly guilty.
Finally started talking to her again a few months ago, after a
night out. Jude set us up, actually.” He scrunched grass into
ribbons in his fist, and sprinkled. “We kind of decided that when I
moved back home, we’d try to sort things out.”

“As in, when
you move back home for this new job?”

“Yeah.” He
wouldn’t look at me.

“You told her
about me before last night, yes?”

“Erm. No, I
didn’t.”

The silence
swelled around us until it threatened to burst.

“Jesus, Matt.
I’m surprised you didn’t end up with a black eye or something. I’d
have given you one!”

“I deserve it,
don’t I?” he said pitifully.

I rolled my
eyes. “Jude and Summer seemed to know about me.”

“Yeah. I told
Jude. Was kind of hoping he’d tell her and then I wouldn’t have to.
I think Summer’s just relieved that we’re not getting back together
‘cos she had to pick up the pieces last time.” He looked me in the
eye for the first time since he’d started the story. “You’re not
looking too impressed.”

“I don’t know
what to say, really.”

“I know I’m a
dickhead.”

“I’ve cheated
on every boyfriend I’ve ever had,” I said quietly. “If you’re a
dickhead, so am I.”

He seemed
perturbed by that little admission, but made a swift recovery. “I
bet you never messed them around like me, though.”

“No. But I was
never serious with any of them.”

“Why not?
Haven’t you ever been in love?”

I squared my
shoulders. “Ye–maybe. Just not with any of them.”

“Not Joseph, is
it?”

I choked a bit.
“No.”

He smiled
faintly. “Is it me?”

I found my gaze
snapping away. “Not then, no.” Entropy munched at my nerves. How
much to tell him? How much seemed safe? “It was an old friend.
Somebody I always went back to.”

“Why didn’t you
just get it together with him?”

“It was
complicated.”

“Was he
married?”

“No, no,
nothing like that. It just wouldn’t have worked. And I was okay
with that, really. Besides, he never knew how I felt. I doubt he
felt the same.”

“You know,
Leila…I think you might actually be more emotionally retarded than
me.”

I gave him a
sharp little kick. “I resent that!”

“Just don’t see
why you’d deny yourself the person you loved.”

“It was more of
a thrill that way,” I admitted.

“You know what? You
 
are
 
a masochist.”

“I’ll take that
as a compliment,” I muttered. “I feel sorry for Niamh now.”

“Me too.” He
sighed. “Not a fat lot that can be done about it though, is
there?”

“You could at
least apologize. You owe her an explanation. If you don’t, she
might stick more pins in her Leila doll.”

“And you get
your fair share of pricks already.”

“Be quiet,
Matthew.”

It would have
been nice to cement our little bonding session with a knot of arms
and legs, of sweat and flesh. Under the tree like that, it would
have been as much poetry as sex.

But that didn’t
happen.

* * * *

The cab honked
and we fell inside in all our pretentious urban finery. Matt wore a
Paul Smith suit and disappointingly hetero tie, while I felt
especially glamorous in the gown I’d splurged on back in my first
year, with its flowing black skirt and cut-out sides.

Dovecoate Hall: more
 
Alice in
Wonderland
 
than
 
Sleepy Hollow
 
in the drizzled daylight, yet
memories of the previous night’s debauchery gave the odd lick of
sunshine charcoal edges. Guests swarmed between the topiary
creatures, butlers circled, cameras flashed. Matt glanced around
nervously.

“It’s not what
you expected, is it?” I said.

The car pulled
away and we stood alone at the gates.

“No. Everyone’s
clothed, for starters.”

I poked him in
the ribs and tugged him up the drive, trying not to catch my skirt
on my heels in the process.

We wandered up
the path and into the lobby, where Matt disappeared to find the
bathroom. I scanned the undulating mass of people for a friendly
face.

“Lei-Lei!”
Aidan smothered me in a hug before I’d even recognized him.

I groaned as he
squeezed me. “Hello, Aidan.”

“You look
gorgeous. Furstenberg?”

“Indeed.” I
turned to the lad at his side and grinned. “Hello Nikolai.”

He nodded at
me, eyes bashful.

“Where’s tall,
dark and fucksome disappeared to? I want an introduction,” Aidan
said.

“He’ll be back
in a second. I was planning on plying him with booze before he met
you, though.”

“I’m not going
to come on to him, Lei-Lei.” He paused to squeeze Nikolai’s hand.
“Or at least, not on my own…”

“Um…hi.” Matt
appeared beside me, his fingers apparently stuck in his
pockets.

I took his arm
and urged him forward a little. “Matt, this is Aidan–my work
partner.”

“Nice to meet
you,” he said slowly.

They shook
hands, eyeing each other up with comic indiscretion.

“A pleasure.”
Aidan smiled to flash a devious dimple. “I’m glad Leila’s found a
nice boy.”

“A
 
nice boy
?” I said
incredulously.

Matt cocked his
head. “I’ve been called a lot worse,” he said.

Aidan winked.
“I hope so.”

“Nikolai, I
don’t know how you put up with him,” I said, shaking my head.
“He’s–”

“I’m a nice boy
too,” he tittered. “Come on, Nik. Let’s find a seat. I’ll see you
later, Lei-Lei,” he called over his shoulder.

I turned back
to Matt. “Well. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“He’s…a
character.”

“He’s trying to
embarrass me,” I grumbled. “But he has some redeeming features, I
promise.”

“Oh?”

“He was meant
to be my date, but he pretended to drop out so I’d have to ask
you.”

“I’m not sure
whether I should be buying him a drink or tripping him up when he’s
not looking.”

“To quote your
good self, you can sod right off!”

A harpist drew
fingers along strings as we filtered into the ballroom, and a
prickly heat crept up on me as I scanned the room for last night’s
little audience, already recognizing the female couple with their
sequined dresses and shiny hair. This meeting of two worlds on the
edge of a knife seemed wicked, unusual. It was acceptable to be the
whore here–or at least, it would perhaps have been if Matt didn’t
sit beside me, his palm sweaty against mine.

This thing that
excited me so much made him uncomfortable and anxious. Would it
always be that way? Did that matter?

Did Matt’s
mother know about me? Had Charlie told her? God, I hoped not.

Maybe then…

He squeezed my
hand and I looked up.

“You’re quiet,”
he said.

“I’m listening
to the harp,” I lied.

“Do you think
she takes requests? Bit of Faith No More, maybe?”

“You could ask,
but I’m not sure that’s Will’s style.”

“What do escort agency bosses listen to, anyway?” Notice how
he took particular care not to say
 
pimp
.

“In his case?
Erm. Erasure, probably.”

The phone hummed in the depths of my bag and I peered at the
glowing screen.
 
Message from Joseph
 
blinked in Arial. Matt glanced
over and I snapped the bag shut, seared with panic and arousal all
at once. I wasn’t falling for that one again, oh no!

Matt waved the
Order of Service under my nose. “Have you read this? What the fuck
is that?”

I took it from him and scanned.
 
Oh my
. “Um…Elizabethan pseudo-rape poetry?”

“And they say
romance is dead.” He paused. “That’s made me feel quite ill,
actually.”

“Did you even
read it? It’s filth–”

“There’s all
this talk about bleeding.” He shuddered.

“Prude.” I
leaned in to whisper. “And this from the man who bruised my knees
when he shoved me down to suck him.”

His cheeks
streaked with raspberry as he regarded me, remembering,
assimilating. “Did I really bruise you?”

“Yes, a
bit.”

“I didn’t mean
to.”

“I didn’t mind.
I liked it,” I added, grinning.

“Don’t say
things like that. There’s not a lot of room at the front of these
trousers.”

I used my bag
to hide his growing bulge, tutting in disapproval.

The music faded
out and we got to our feet. Matt pushed my bag into my lap, knotted
his fingers in front of his groin, and I stared at them, chewing my
lip and trying not to think about running my fingertips over the
silky underside of his erection. I swear he closed his eyes for a
moment as if he could feel me doing it.

Will and Angus appeared in the doorway, clad in their kilts
and electric smiles. The harpist began to play
the
 
Star
Wars
 
theme
and, arm in arm, they strode down the aisle. I elbowed Matt sharply
as he tittered under his breath at the music. I didn’t care if it
sounded a bit ridiculous on a harp. The grooms glowed with
happiness and envy turned to acid in my throat.

The service was quirky and amusing: Will and Angus read a
poem they’d written about older men settling down, with lots of bad
puns about sowing seeds and sagging baggage. We were all flushed
with laughter by the time they exited,
 
Crazy
 
by Aerosmith booming from the
loudspeakers. I’d been to a lot of weddings in the past few
years–snotty lawyer ones, mostly–and this was definitely my
favourite.

We gathered in
the bar for Champagne and cocktails while they re-worked the
ballroom for the reception. I dragged Matt into the queue to meet
the newlyweds.

“This is Matt.”
I smiled as they all shook hands. “Matt, my old boss William and
his new husband, Angus.”

“I liked your
song choices,” Matt said coyly.

I rolled my
eyes, hoping they wouldn’t see.

“Angus said that
 
Star Wars
 
was too geeky, but then we
realized that we were going officially off the market and nobody
would care.” Will laughed. “It’s good to meet you, Matt. We’ve
been…” He exchanged glances with Angus. “…curious about
you.”

“Sounds
ominous.” Matt looked comically uncomfortable.

Will leaned
forward and clapped him on the back. “You must be something quite
special to have tamed this young lady. If I were straight, I’d be
jealous.”

“He
 
is
 
jealous,” Angus added. “Of Leila, that is.”

“Congratulations, perverts!” I pulled Matt away before he died of
blushing.

“Have we had a
conversation yet today that wasn’t about sex? With anyone?” Matt
said.

“No. Isn’t it
brilliant?”

“I think my
balls might fall off.”

“You rang?”
said someone in a whiny voice.

Oh, fuck off,
Metro Paul.

“Paul,” I said
weakly. “This is Matt, my friend from work. Matt, Paul is Will’s
assistant.”

“Nice to meet
you,” Matt said, noticing my displeasure and raising an
eyebrow.

“Matt,” Paul
sang, making the word sound as if it had about eight syllables.
“Welcome to the club. I’ll introduce you later.”

“Club?” he
asked, dubious.

Oh, please not
this.

“The HABs.
Husbands and Boyfriends. A bit like a support group for people
whose partners fuck other people for money.” He trailed off into
plasticky laughter as if he’d just told some hilarious in-joke, and
it died a savage death in the silence that ensued.

Paul pointed at
Matt. “He does know, right?”

“Yes, I know,”
said Matt. “But thanks for the reminder. Cheers.”

“We’ve got to
be somewhere.” I glared at Paul. “See you later, maybe.”

Paul stepped
from one foot to the other awkwardly. “Yeah, see you, then.”

Matt swallowed
as Paul edged away. “Well, he was–”

“A vision in
purple?”

“I was going to
say a cunt, but I suppose they’re often one and the same.”

“We call him
Metro Paul,” I added.

“I think I’ll
call him Tactless Twat. Or maybe just Arsehole. That’s nice and
easy to remember.”

“Maybe we
should get a bit drunk,” I said, panicking about the possibility of
my colleagues coming out with similar gems. “To the bar?”

“Yes. I need beer. And something with guitars. Will they play
something with guitars later instead of all the…” I think he was
going to say
 
gay
 
but swiftly reconsidered, “twiddly shite?”

“Matt.” I grinned. “I’m sure they’ll play
whatever
 
you
 
want, if you only ask nicely.”