In point of fact, it was impossible to forget. The minute I saw it, I knew it was hers. The unkempt front garden and purple door popped against the other quietly-elegant Edwardian houses lining the street. It’d been her mum’s place, back when the area was less sought after, and she never treated it with the reverence a semi in Chiswick deserved. She could’ve sold it for a small fortune, but it was all she had left of her mum and she clung to it.
I dragged my cases up to the front door and rang the bell. The strains of what sounded like a death metal riff echoed from somewhere behind it.
‘Gav’ll be there to let you in,’ she’d whispered, when I’d called her. She was at her desk, and private calls were an absolute no-no. On Max Flint’s time, a personal life was a no-no. ‘But don’t worry. He’s going.’
This I wasn’t surprised to hear. Men came and went in Liv’s life like shadows. They barely had time to shove their clothes in the wardrobe before they were back out the front door. To be fair, it was usually their fault. Liv was a magnet for cheats and liars. I was beginning to know how she felt.
I waited a few minutes, but apparently whoever was strangling their guitar inside – presumably Gav – hadn’t heard the bell. I was beginning to feel exposed and uncomfortable standing there, so I rang it a couple more times.
When he came to the door, Gav turned out to be a lanky Goth with dyed-black hair and heavy eyelids. He stank of weed. ‘Uh…hi,’ he said, standing back from the door to let me pass.
I dragged my cases inside, wondering if I’d made a mistake. The whole place smelt of weed. It was like returning to my student days, back in the halls of residence. I’d enjoyed them at the time – had a blast, in fact – but I wasn’t looking to relive the experience.
He gestured up into a narrow stairwell. ‘Up there… back left.’
I began to haul my cases up the stairs, feeling those drooping eyes upon me. What the hell was she doing? He was barely more than a kid. His manners could use some work, too. He wasn’t even easy on the eye. She could do a hell of a lot better.
Says you, I told myself, lugging my suitcases across another landing and into another bedroom. This one was small and squat, with magenta, poster-strewn walls and a single bed. There was barely room to lay my cases down.
Gav was obviously bored of his guitar, because he’d decided he needed to play some Goth album or other, and play it loud. I sat on the edge of the bed, trying to shut it out and feeling like a spare part of something I didn’t even understand.
Twelve
Giles watched the screen intently. I just hoped he’d be pleased with how it all panned out. I wasn’t, not really, but if it had the desired outcome, all well and good. I had a favour to ask him, and I needed him to be satisfied.
Felicity was sitting up on the picnic bench now, looking around at the guys in confusion. ‘Wait… what are you doing?’
To a man, they were following orders, even Rick. As each one did up their fly and turned away, she looked panicked. ‘Where are you going?’ She spoke quickly and her voice was high-pitched. ‘Don’t you want more?’
It was Matt that broke the news. ‘Nah… thanks babe. That’s your lot.’
‘But what…why?’
Rick turned back to her. ‘No offense, love, but you’re a slapper. Girls like you…you’re good for one thing, get it?’ He seemed to be enjoying it. I gritted my teeth, and forced myself to carry on watching. ‘I’ve got a wife, see? She’s a good girl, and I love her. I wouldn’t swap her for a whore like you, not for the world.’
‘Yeah,’ Matt was almost sneering. If they were just following orders, they’d outdone themselves, but I had a feeling they were really getting off on it. ‘Cheap slags like you are just there to be used, babe. Sort yourself out.’
I stayed, watching them walk off back to their cars, while she just sat there, speechless, on the bench. Only Alex stayed with me. He was still videoing –making sure he got the evidence for Giles. She didn’t even seem to notice.
I could still hear their jeering as she got down from the picnic table, pulling her skirt down as she did so. She came over to me, stumbling again in her heels. This time, it wasn’t put on. I could tell. Her eyes were bright and she blinked hard. I knew she was fighting back the tears.
‘What about you?’ she said. ‘You’ve done nothing…said nothing. Why are you still here?’
I shrugged. ‘I wanted to make sure you were okay.’
She sniffed. ‘I’m fine,’ she said. Her face bunched up, and a single tear escaped, rolling hard and fast down her cheek. ‘I’ll be all right.’
‘Are you going to do this again?’
She paused a moment, as if considering. She sniffed again. ‘I…don’t know. Are you offering?’
‘I’m not offering,’ I said. ‘No.’
‘Shame,’ she said, coming closer to me. She looked pitiful. Her face was clouded with misery, and her bruised breasts still hung free. She pressed them up against me, and rubbed them against my chest. I moved backward – away from them…from her. ‘You’re more my kind of guy,’ she added, following me. ‘Although…you remind me of my father.’
I felt Giles flinch, and cursed inwardly. I’d forgotten this bit. Why hadn’t Alex edited it out?
‘Your father?’ I echoed, holding my hand out to keep her from getting in close.
‘Yeah.’ She rolled her eyes, and gave a brief laugh. ‘There’s something about you. I don’t know. You’re good looking…well, you must know that…and attractive, but…’ She seemed to be struggling to find the words. ‘But ultimately…you’re untouchable.’
She was right there. She wasn’t going to touch me with a ten foot pole. I sidestepped another lunge, and took a deep breath. ‘Look,’ I said. ‘Do you know what I think’s going on here?’
‘No,’ she said, her wide eyes trailing me up and down. ‘But I’m sure you’re going to tell me.’
‘Correct,’ I said. This was my last chance. I couldn’t fuck it up. ‘Look, I think you’re looking for something else.’ God, it sounded cheesy, but I had to get my point across. ‘You want to matter and, somehow, you’ve equated sex with love. The more sex you can get, the more you’re loved.’
I paused, waiting for the rebuttal, but it didn’t come. She just stood there looking at the floor, and started to drag her top back up over her mangled breasts. I pressed my advantage while I had it. ‘You’re not going to find love like this, you know. You’re just going to end up hurt…used.’
‘That’s all I’ve ever been,’ she said, in a small voice. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’
‘Ah, but I do,’ I said. ‘More than you know. But you can’t let it dictate your life. You’ve got it all going on, Felicity. Trust me.’ I paused. I didn’t like lying, but I had to get my point across. ‘You’re beautiful, you’re clever and you’re rich. You’ve got the world at your feet. Don’t fuck it up.’
My words seemed to hit home. She looked up at me, her eyes full and wet, and she smiled. ‘Thank you,’ she said, and it sounded like she meant it. ‘I’ll try.’
‘And if you’re ever in trouble,’ I added. ‘Call me.’
I felt in my pocket for a pen and paper. I hadn’t meant to go this far, but I could sense she was sincere, and I wanted to make sure she didn’t fuck up. ‘Here,’ I said, scribbling down my mobile number.
She took it, and smiled at me. No hint of sexiness this time, just an honest-to-goodness smile. ‘What do I call you?’ she asked.
I hesitated. There was no way she was getting my real name. Should I make something up? I almost did, but it didn’t feel right. Then, for some reason, Charlotte’s words came back into my mind. She’d had the perfect name for me. ‘You can call me The Filth Monger,’ I said, with an inward smile.