“You stole from me.”
“I didn’t steal shit from you, look at you, bold as brass in the club you bailed on.”
And then came the tears. Stupid dramatic fucking tears, not about being assaulted, or whored out, or locked in a playroom in her own fucking club, none of that seemed to matter to Faye Devere, because she’s that kind of highly-fucking-strung. No, the tears were about Andy fucking Morgan and what a fucking cunt he was for taking her name off a fucking online register. Typical fucking Faye Devere.
“Stop it,” I said. “Don’t make this a big fucking problem.”
“It is!” she wailed. “This isn’t my club!”
“We’ll fill in the paperwork right pissing now if you want, you’ll be back on there again sooner than my fucking ass stops hurting.” I was hoping for a laugh, but I didn’t get one.
“I want to go,” she said, and she was all sniffly and pathetic.
“That makes two of us,” I said. “Let’s sort this out at home.”
But she shook her head. “Not your home,” she cried. “I don’t belong there anymore. It’syours, just like this club is.” She stood up, all bloody melodramatic and got her little pout on. “I’m going,” she snivelled. “It’s your club, and you can fucking keep it, Andy, just like you wanted!”
Jesus fucking wept.
***
Chapter Twenty Four
Faye
We gathered up our things and left Topaz and Demelza to lock up. The taxi ride was uncomfortable, at far ends of the backseat while I cried quietly and he kept brooding. I wanted to reach out, wanted to talk it through and unravel the knots, untwist the lies and the secrets and, I don’t know,feellike this mess would somehow be ok again. But I didn’t feel like that. The twitch was already starting, too much pressure, too much awkwardness.
He knew my dirty bad secrets, and I knew his.
How could we look at each other the same way now?
That’s what kept me crying, all the way back to his. And it washisagain now, nothome, notours. Nowhere close. I opened the door and left him to pay the driver, then waited while he led the way upstairs. He held the door open and I crossed the threshold of the place I’d come to belong in.
I never belong anywhere for long.
I always have to run away too soon.
I went into the guest room, pulled out my case from under the bed, and he was right there, in the doorway, his hands behind his head in disbelief. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Going,” I said. “I need to think.”
“Bailing, you mean?”
I shrugged. “Think what you want.”
“We’re going to go through this again now, are we? The going gets a bit fucking tough and Faye Devere gets fucking going? Where are you going to fucking run to this time, Faye?”
I shrugged again. “My parents’, Karen’s.”
“Do you really have to be like this?”
“Like what?” I snapped. “Hurt?”
“How can you stand there and condemnmefor hurting you? You just escaped a filthy fucking psychopath, and you’re accusingmeof being the fucking bad guy here. Lord give me fucking strength.” He strode about the place, and then he got angry, I could see it in his eyes. “Fine. You think I’m the fucking bad guy, I’ll be the fucking bad guy. Go, fuck off, do whatever you want. Just don’t come back expecting open arms next pissing time around.”
“I won’t, Andy, don’t you worry.”
“One crappy piece of paper and everything’s the end of the pissing world. Grow up, Faye, put your big girl fucking panties on and stay the fucking course, will you?”