Painted Faces (22 page)

I don't even know why I went out with him in the first place. I was never even remotely attracted to him. He looked halfway between a computer nerd and a poster child for Nazi Germany. He has this starkly blond hair and eyebrows. We met at a college party for some society we were both members of and he was just really pushy, asking me to go out to dinner with him.

If you've ever been to college you'll know that it's the one time in your life when you meet the biggest amount of weirdos. I experienced everything from sociopaths to narcissists to plain and simple psychopaths. The only reason I agreed to go out with Aaron was because I'd been single for so long and wanted to show people that I wasn't a closeted lesbian. Some girl who didn't like me had started up a rumour.

Anyway
, I'd only planned on going out on a few dates with him, but he stuck to me like glue. There was no getting rid of him. He'd show up after almost all of my classes, take me to lunch, walk me home at the end of the day. It was
suffocating
.

Now, I know what you're probably thinking. What makes me so special that some guy would be that crazy about me? There lies the rub. There was nothing particularly special about me. Aaron was just one of those guys who fixated on a single girl and became obsessed with her. Lucky me, I happened to be that one girl.

I cannot believe that after three years he's still on the hunt. Suddenly I'm remembering the time after I'd told him I was breaking up with him, and he'd marched into his kitchen and started smashing plates and cups onto the floor like a nutter, calling me a slut and a whore. He clearly has some undiagnosed psychological condition where he develops these attachments to people he can't let go of.

My heart is thumping way too fast and I think I can feel a panic attack coming on. Theresa gives me a strange look as I excuse myself and run to the bathroom. I sit in there for about fifteen minutes, trying to calm myself down.

Various horrific scenarios run through my head. Like what if he's gone even more do-lally in the three years that have passed since we broke up? What if he breaks into my apartment and threatens me with a knife? Or says he's going to kill himself if we can't be together? Actually, I think he tried that one when we were together. As you can imagine, he's not the kind of person you want to have obsessed with you.

Finally, I manage to pull myself together and go back out to the shop, but I'm well and truly shaken for the rest of the day.

Lady Suits and Locked Bathroom Doors

Two weeks go by, within which I find myself constantly looking at the people who are walking behind me, paranoid that I'll see Aaron somewhere. Every time a new customer comes into the shop my heart jumps in case it's him.

He doesn't turn up though, and I begin to think that it might not have been him who asked for me that time at all. Perhaps it was just some customer I'd been chatting to who wanted to follow up about a purchase. One who bore a freaky resemblance to my old boyfriend. Yes it's unlikely, but I latch on to the easy explanation as it's the only way to retain my sanity.

When I spend time working with Nicholas we seem to find a platonic middle ground, which both of us stick to rigidly. I think he knows he hurt my feelings before, so he's being very careful not to lead me on again. I'm a one man kind of woman, but he's not a one woman kind of man. Obviously, any tryst we might have had would never have worked out.

I help him set his apartment up properly and unpack all of the boxes, because he wants to have a belated house warming party on Sunday night. His second bedroom is practically an oversized wardrobe now, with all of his costumes stored in it. He gives me a check for my first two weeks working with him, including that first Saturday night, and it's far more money than I expected. I try to get him to write another check for less, but there's no budging him.

“
You're a pleasure to be around Fred. Take the money, you deserve it,” he says casually, waving away my protests.

I grudgingly slip the check into the pocket of my jeans and say no more about it. The idea that he's paying me to spend time with him doesn't sit right with me, but I bite my tongue. I'm his employee first and foremost, and that will just have to do.

I have to cancel going to visit my parents on the day of Nicholas' party, because I agreed to cater it for him. I have a chat with Mum on the phone for a while and she tells me how her ankle is all healed up now. She's the only person who knows about my past with Aaron, but I haven't mentioned that he might be looking for me again because I don't want to worry her. She's older now, and I'm afraid the stress might make her sick.

For the party food I make an array of cupcakes, as well as some savoury finger foods. I cook some delicious bacon strips dipped in honey, chicken wings with garlic and chive dip, deep fried jalapeño poppers, and dainty little sandwiches skewered with cocktail sticks. A heart attack waiting to happen, in other words.

I might have gone a little overboard, but I'm not exactly sure how many people Nicholas has invited. He did mention that he'd asked Dorotea to pop by, which is why I have decided to wear the most flattering dress I own. It's tight, black and silky, with short lacy sleeves. It also shows my cleavage in the best possible light. I clip my curls up in a messy French twist, with lots of tendrils falling down.

I am asking for trouble by dressing like this, and I know it. But I'm feeling a little spurned over how easily Nicholas seems to be keeping his hands off me these days. It might be a touch evil, not to mention irrational, but I want to torture him.

Harry and Sean drop by the apartment like I'd asked them to, because I need them to bring the food next door and set it up for me while I get ready. Harry stands in my bedroom doorway and lets out a low whistle. I'm making my eyes all smoky with some black eye shadow, to really bring out the gold notes in their hazel colour. I'm going for broke. These have been a shitty, nervy two weeks, what with the whole Aaron thing going on, so I just need one night where I can feel good about myself.

“
The trays are all in the kitchen,” I tell him. “Be careful with the chicken wings. They're still pretty hot.”

“
They're not the only thing that's hot tonight. Fred, I'm worried I'll turn straight if I keep staring at your boobs much longer.”

“
Good to know,” I laugh. He winks and goes to sort out the food.

A few minutes later Nora comes in to see if I'm ready. She's wearing a nice beige shift dress and brown sandals. I notice her give my appearance a sharp look.

“
You never make this much of an effort. What's going on?” she asks shrewdly.

“
Is it too much?” I ask back, biting at my fingernails out of nervousness.

“
You look like a wet dream and you know it,” she rolls her eyes at me. “I was just wondering why. I thought you and Nicholas were never going to happen, at least that's what you've been saying this past week or so. A little
too
fervently might I add, like you're trying to convince yourself more than anything else.”

I shrug and let out a long sigh. Nora's completely right. I have been trying to convince myself – and failing miserably. “Remember the Italian woman he slept with?” I finally ask her. Nora nods. “She's going to be at the party, so getting dressed up is helping me to boost my confidence.”

“
Well I hope it works,” she replies drily, before we lock up our apartment and head next door.

Phil, Nicholas' friend and manager of The Glamour Patch, answers the door to us wearing a blue shirt with glittery shoulder caps. I've gotten to know him quite well over the past two weeks, and he just might be the funniest person I've ever met. He's managed a ton of different clubs over the years, including one in San Francisco, and has some of the most entertaining anecdotes you will ever hear.

“
Fred look at you, hot to trot, come in. I've just been munching on your chicken wings. They're to die for,” he leads us into the living area and I take note of who's here.

Sean, Harry and Harry's brother Colm are chatting on the couch. I could kill Harry for bringing Colm along, because I know I'll have to fend off his lecherous advances once he has a few drinks on him. Nicholas is standing in the kitchen with Dorotea and her hairdresser friend with the mullet.

He looks amazing in a midnight blue shirt, a thin black tie and dark slacks. Staring at the tie makes me want to loosen it up and pull it off him (like a temptress in a sexual thriller movie from the early nineties). Other than that there are a few faces I recognise as employees from the club, as well as the other members of Sean's band, The Wilting Willows.

Phil leads us directly to the kitchen and hands us each a glass of wine. Somebody must have brought their karaoke machine along, because there's one all set up in the corner of the living area. Wonderful. I know I'll think it's a good idea to get up and start singing later on. “Starman” by David Bowie is currently playing through a pair of ipod speakers.

Nicholas' eyes catch on mine as I pass him by, and good God do they burn. I feel a blush spread all over my body at how intensely he's staring at me. Like he could devour me. His gaze blazes a fire all along my body, from head to toe. He leaves Dorotea and approaches me. I don't fail to notice Dorotea giving me a look. I roll my eyes at her, and her lips go tight with a scowl. Nora has hopped over to join Harry. Hopefully Colm will set his sights on her tonight instead of me.

I turn around and pretend to be admiring the new painting Nicholas bought to hang up on his wall. It's modern art, so I can't really discern what it's supposed to be, but it's a good distraction. I feel his hand touch lightly on my hip. His warm body is too close behind me.

“
I like your dress,” he tells me huskily, “and your hair looks beautiful up like that.”

I take a sip of wine. “Thank you,” I answer, barely a whisper. What the hell is wrong with me? His voice is so dark and sexy right now, I'm having a hard time keeping my cool.

“
Dorotea's not happy that you've left her to fend for herself,” I comment with a glance over my shoulder, clocking the Italian sex bomb and her friend sizing me up.

“
Fuck her,” he growls low in his throat. I widen my eyes at his vulgar expression.

“
You already have, but why the venom? I thought you two were best shagging buddies.”

Nicholas discreetly massages my hip with his fingers. “She's been calling me non-stop looking to come over. It's driving me insane. Phil mentioned to her that I was having this party when she dropped into the club the other night. She proceeded to call me up and complain that she hadn't been invited. So that's why she's here.”

I turn around then, slightly pissed off at his explanation. “Well it serves you right. I mean, look at yourself Nicholas, you're handsome and charismatic. You can't just sleep with a woman and then expect her not to want to see you again.”

On the inside I'm wondering if this is how he would have ended up treating me should we have slept together. Would he speak of me so callously, as he has just spoken of Dorotea?

“
I'm twenty-eight Freda. I've had lots of experience with clingy women over the years. It doesn't mean I have to like it. But let's rewind a moment, you think I'm handsome and charismatic?”