Tainted Love, Page 3

  Quickly composing myself, I step forward until we’re around four feet apart. He towers over me, his eyes sharp, his focus intent, but I refuse to let him think he intimidates me. “Chris and I are none of your business. You stay focused on yours and keep out of mine. You may think your top dog here, humouring everyone with your manwhore antics, but all you’re showing everyone is what a sad little prick you really are.”

  Brandon’s lips thin, his jaw twitching. I’ve hit a nerve. He steps forward, but I don’t step back. This seems to anger him more.

  “Bitch, I could kill you with a snap of my fingers.”

  “Woah,” Larry shouts, getting up from his seat and pulling Brandon away. “What the fuck’s wrong with you, Brandon? She’s Chris’s girl. You mess with her, you won’t wake up the next morning because you’ll have a fucking bullet in your head.”

  Brandon’s jaw is twitching faster now as he breathes heavily from his nose. His eyes narrow on Larry before they focus back on me. He doesn’t say anything, but I can read his silent words loud and clear.

  He hates me.

  He wishes me harm.

  But as Larry says, I’m Chris’s girl. Everyone knows I’m Chris’s girl. That’s why I’m untouchable.

  “What the fuck’s going on in here?” a familiar voice asks behind me. I turn, finding Michael taking in the scene in front of him, his brow furrowing in both annoyance and confusion.

  That makes two of us.

  “Where have you been?” I ask, forcing myself not to cross my arms in irritation. “I came in here to find this bitch trying to suck an unconscious Chris off while this arsehole,” I say, pointing a finger at Brandon, “was fucking her from behind.”

  Michael fixes his glare on Brandon, shaking his head. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?” His attention quickly turns to me. “Sorry, Bri. I didn’t know. I had some business to take care of outside.”

  Business meaning drugs, no doubt, but I don’t question him. I really don’t want to know. Chris doesn’t hide the fact that he deals in drugs, guns, and pretty much anything that makes him money, but he at least tries his best to keep me out of it. Well, apart from when he uses me to hide the nightmares that live in his head. They’ve been an ongoing problem since the moment he moved in with me.

  They’re part of the reason I’m here now.

  “Whatever,” I snap, annoyance still bubbling in my belly. “Can you help me take him to the car?”

  “Of course,” Michael responds, snapping his finger at Kane. “Help me with Chris.”

  Glad that I don’t have to drag Chris myself, I watch as they pick him up, each with one arm pulled around their shoulders. The only help I offer is to swiftly pop Chris’s limp dick back in his jeans, scrunching my face at the thought of where it’s just been.

  “Deal with that shit,” Michael commands, his head bobbing towards the bitch who’s still out cold.

  “We’re on it,” Larry replies, placing his drink down on the table before getting up.

  When the boys start to move, Chris mumbles but doesn’t awaken. Before they lead Chris down the stairs, I take one last look over my shoulder to find Brandon staring at me. He winks before blowing me a kiss, a vindictive smirk pulling up one side of his mouth. I ignore him, following quickly behind the boys as they exit the noisy club.

  “Where’s your car?” Michael asks, feeling grateful that I can hear him now that we’re away from the noise.

  “Over there,” I respond, pointing to my Mini.

  “You still got that shitty looking car?” Michael breathes out, looking exasperated, and I wonder if it’s my car or having to lug Chris around that causes it. “I thought Chris was going to buy you something nicer.”

  We reach the car, and I quickly open the back door so they can lunge Chris in. They waste no time dropping him onto the seat and closing the door. Kane simply nods his head and walks off, and once Michael looks back at me, I answer him.

  “I will tell you what I told Chris. What would it look like if a girl who works in an antique shop turns up in a brand new, flashy car? Besides, I like her. She’s unique.”

  Michael glances down at said car in disgust and huffs. “Graveyard. That’s the best place for her.”

  I throw my hands up in the air and make my way around to the driver’s side. “Hey, as long as she runs, I don’t care. Do you need a lift?”

  He flits his eyes away, a moment of uncertainty washing over his face. I’ve seen that look before. He needs a place to stay.

  I let out a sigh and speak before he does. “Come on, get in the car. You can sleep in the spare room.”

  With masked enthusiasm, Michael opens up the passenger side and helps himself in. Once I get in and start the car, I fix my gaze on him. “Have another fight with Tarryn?”

  He shakes his head, rubbing his temple as his right knee bounces. “She’s doing my fucking head in.”

  I smile, amused by him. He’s always fighting with his current girlfriend, but miraculously, after a year, they’re still together. I just don’t get it. They’re like chalk and cheese. Michael’s a down-to-earth guy, born and bred in East London, he’s a true Cockney. Tarryn, on the other hand, is like a princess. She only ever wants the finer things in life. And although Michael can provide it most of the time with the money their little team is making, Tarryn can’t come to terms with his East London life, and he equally can’t come to terms with her posh upbringing.

  “Why are you still with her?” I ask, before quickly checking on Chris and pulling out from the kerb. He’s still out of it. I’m guessing he’s been like that for a while.

  “She’s got the tightest pussy I have ever had.”

  Groaning, I raise my hand up. “Okay, a bit too much information there.” I hear him chuckle, so I shake my head. “Men!” I shout, complaining. “Why does everything boil down to sex?”

  “All that a man needs in his life is BFS. If they have that, then nothing else matters.”

  I crinkle my nose up in confusion as I head down an unusually quiet street. The last street that leads us towards the turning to our penthouse. Finally, I can get to bed. I already feel the weight of the day exhausting me.

  “Okay, I give in. What in the hell is BFS?” I quickly gaze over, finding his cheeky grin.

  “Beer, football, and sex.” I throw my head back, laughter immediately taking over. “Come on then. What’s so fucking funny?”

  “You,” I answer, puffing out some air when he continues to look at me like I’m crazy. “You say all that, but where are you now? Currently helping the girlfriend of a comatose man back to his flat before sleeping in their spare room, because why? You’ve had an argument with your girlfriend, who has yet again thrown you out of your house. Which is all your house, by the way. Remember you asked her to move in with you and not the other way around?”

  He runs a hand through his jet black, cropped hair, his dark brown eyes glazed over with alcohol. “I can hardly chuck a girl out onto the street now, can I? What kind of fucking arsehole would that make me? She may be a bitch at times, and we fight, but fuck me when we get together the next day, she’s pulling my dick out quicker than a gunslinger pulling out his pistol at dawn. Believe me, tomorrow morning when I get home will make sleeping in your spare room for a night fucking worth it.”

  As I pull into my parking space, I shake my head. I’m about to tell him how shallow he is when I think against it. “You know what? I give up. I just give up. Help me get Chris in?”

  “Of course,” Michael replies with a drunk grin before springing into action and opening the door.

  It takes a lot longer to get Chris into the flat and into bed than it did when Michael had help from Kane, and it doesn’t help that I’m only five-foot-five and Chris is well over six foot and built like a brick shit house. When he’s not at home, out selling drugs, or getting wasted, he’s at the gym, boxing and practicing Tae-Kwon-Do. He says it helps him to get all that pent-up anger out.

  “Thanks for he
lping me with him,” I say, once we have Chris tucked up in our bed and we leave him to sleep.

  I’m in the middle of setting up the spare bed in the other room when I feel Michael’s eyes on me.

  “You know he really loves you, right? If he’d been conscious, Chris would never have let that slut do what she did. You’re all he ever talks about. In fact, everyone thinks he’s obsessed.”

  My stomach clenches at the obsession part. We are both obsessed. A little too much so.

  “I know,” is all I answer. I understand Chris was a victim in this, but he should never have put himself in a position where he was so wasted that anything could have happened to him.

  As if sensing my thoughts, Michael says, “We all have his back.”

  I chuckle sarcastically under my breath. I place the last pillow down then look up at Michael. “What, like you all did tonight?”

  Michael fixes me with his big brown eyes, a look of surrender in them. He doesn’t say anything. He knows he can’t.

  I check my watch. It’s already midnight, and I have to be up early tomorrow. “I best get to bed. Some of us have to go to work first thing in the morning.” Michael smiles, and I walk towards the bedroom door. When I’m about to open it, I hear him speak.

  “You know you could just sleep in tomorrow and then jack your job in. With what Chris earns, you’ll never have to work again.”

  I turn, smiling at him. “Then what purpose would I serve? Sometimes in life it’s not about money. Getting up and going to work every day, meeting people, and keeping my brain active. It all gives me purpose.”

  Michael takes in what I say and finally nods. “Goodnight, Bri.”

  “Good night, Michael.”

  I head into my bedroom and hear Chris snoring softly in our king-size bed. I’m still angry, and I don’t want to sleep with him after what happened tonight, but even if Michael wasn’t taking up the only other place to sleep, I wouldn’t. Because, inevitably, Chris will wake up during the night having one of his nightmares, screaming out my name. When I’m beside him, he’s okay. His nightmares are so cruel, and me not sleeping with him would be piling on that cruelty. There have been so many times over the last couple of months where I have almost packed my bags, headed for the train station to escape somewhere, anywhere I could start up a new life and not feel these walls closing in on me. But I know in my heart of hearts I could never do that to Chris. Despite the way I feel, I still love him with every fibre of my fucking being.

  Once I’m ready for bed, I slip under the duvet and lie wide awake staring at the ceiling in the dark. All I can hear is Chris’s steady breathing, and despite all my misgivings, everything in that moment is as it should be.

  Because I love him.

  Because I’m lonely.

  Because I’m fucked up.

  Because. I. Am. Sick.

  The next morning I wake up, shower, and dress without a single peep from either Chris or Michael. Even when I make myself coffee, the loud machine chortling away, neither of them stirs.

  I stick to a routine as routine is what helps keep me from going insane. Routine is my best friend.

  7:45 a.m., the alarm wakes me up. I’m in the shower and dressed by 8:05. At 8:10, I switch the kettle on and start applying makeup while I wait for it to boil. By 8:30, coffee and makeup done which allows me ten minutes to sit in silence and enjoy my coffee as I think about what the day may bring. At 8:40, I leave my flat and drive to work. By 8:55, depending on traffic that morning, I am always there.

  The first thing I notice when I walk in is the naked lady missing. “Morning,” I sing as I spot Charlie manoeuvring one of the mahogany writing desks.

  Charlie waits till he’s happy with the replacement, which I don’t mind as it gives me a full-eyed view of his pert bottom currently winking my way.

  He spins to face me, and for a moment, my eyes forget to remind themselves that his bottom isn’t in view anymore before I look up. I clear my throat, unable to ascertain whether he’s caught me staring or not, considering he has such a poker face.

  “The naked lady’s gone.”

  “I delivered it to Freddy last night, just as I told you I would. He was disappointed, and I quote, ’that it was my ugly mug that delivered it, instead of the beauty that pretties my crappy antique store’ unquote.”

  A fit of giggles erupts. It’s funny, but even funnier when the person telling it is so calm and completely unaffected by what he’s saying.

  “Fancy a cuppa?” he asks, once my giggles have subsided.

  “Would I ever!” I reply, feeling chirpy now that my day is about to begin.

  Charlie disappears in back towards the kitchen without another word. I wish I had just the tiniest of glimpses into that man’s head. I wonder if I would be shocked by what I’d find?

  Musing on that, I drop my bag behind the counter and put my coat up before taking my usual seat. There are no customers yet, but the first couple of hours are normally quiet.

  Five minutes later, a steaming cup of tea is placed in front of me. I glance behind me, noting the intimacy now that he’s leaning over me. I get a whiff of his musky scent, breathing it in as much as I can before he retreats away from me.

  “Thank you,” I say, once I get my bearings back.

  “You’re welcome.”

  No smile. Nothing. Just a polite response back. I try and think of something to say. Anything in order to strike up some sort of conversation with him. I take in my surroundings, the old cream walls, the dusty, old, red patterned rug on the floor, the big, wooden display cabinet blocking the light from coming in the window at the back of the store.

  “Have you ever thought of redecorating this place?”

  “Redecorate?” he asks, causing me to turn to him.

  I take a sip of my tea before responding. “It looks a bit old, don’t you think?”

  For the first time ever, Charlie does something that shocks the hell out of me. He laughs. It’s deep, booming—so much so it hits straight to my loins. “What?” I ask, with an amused smile.

  His head turns down, one eyebrow raised like he’s mocking me. “It’s an antique store, Bri. It’s supposed to look old.” My cheeks instantly flame. He then turns and walks into the back, his laughter continuing.

  Well, that was embarrassing. Way to look stupid in front of your boss!

  Soon after, a new customer comes in, and I’m glad to have the distraction for a while. Luckily, the lady customer buys a few trinkets: a Victorian emerald broach, a 1920s vintage style flapper dress, and some pearls. The lady, only in her early twenties and studying here at university for her nursing degree, animatedly tells me of her two years so far and the patients that she’s met. During the first few minutes with her, I am enthralled by her excitement. But then it dawns on me. This was supposed to be me.

  Nursing was always something I had an interest in. I like taking care of people. Maybe a little too much—hence the reason why I’m stuck in this life with no way out. I studied on my own for a long time between jobs as I couldn’t afford the fees for university. I watched YouTube videos and used pigs’ feet, chicken breasts, and even peaches to practice stitching. Fortunately, or unfortunately, I’ve had to use my skills on a number of occasions when Chris’s mates got stabbed or shot by rival gangs from nearby areas. Suddenly, all my years of studying and practicing skills on my own were put to good use. You could say it was fate. None of them could go to see doctors with their injuries as the staff would probably be required to alert the police. At least this way I’m keeping everyone close to Chris alive. Well, so far anyway.

  When Chris came into my life and he started making shit loads of money, I asked myself why I wasn’t using the money to start my university career. The short and very lazy answer is: I’m exhausted. Apart from my job here, Chris takes up most of my other time. I guess one could say I am stuck in a rut. One would be right. I’ve lived this life for such a short period of time, and yet it seems like I’ve been here forever.


  A couple of hours go by, and my stomach starts to rumble, so I ask Charlie if he wants anything from the café. He replies that he would like a bacon and egg roll, then hands me a tenner to pay for both our breakfasts. By now I’ve learnt not to argue with Charlie over money.

  With the shop being watched over by Charlie, I make my way across the road to the local café. As per usual, it’s packed with locals munching on their full-English breakfasts. The smell of fried bacon hits me the moment I walk into the café, making my stomach churn with hunger.

  John, the owner of the place, is alerted to the door opening and glances up. When he spots it’s me, his smile widens.

  “Bri, what do I owe the pleasure? Your usual?”

  I approach him, acknowledging some locals I recognise on the way. “Yes, please, John. I’m starvin’! Also, can you do us a bacon and egg roll as well, please?”

  John nods his head with a wink. “Coming right up, darlin’.”

  I say my thanks then an arm immediately crawls over my shoulder. Startled, I glance up even though I already know who it is. I’m fined tuned to him.

  Chris is smiling like he hasn’t a care in the world.

  “Trying to chat up my girl again, John?” He winks at me before turning his head towards John. I don’t smile. I’m still mad about last night.

  “Ah, you know me, Chris. I can’t resist the beautiful ladies.”

  Chris doesn’t respond. Instead he tugs me to him. “I missed you.” When I don’t reply, he frowns. “What’s wrong?”

  Through gritted teeth, I say, “The fact that you don’t even know is what makes this worse.”

  Grabbing my hand, he pulls me out of the café and away from prying eyes. When we’re alone with only the traffic going by, I sigh aloud. “I’m supposed to be working.”

  Chris locks me with his pale blue eyes. Eyes which now shine from all the sleep he’s had. No one would ever think looking into those eyes that dark secrets lurk beneath them.