Breaking Leila (17 page)

“You’re a man
with connections.”

“He’s a man who
gives blow jobs to sweaty bouncers,” said Toby. “Check later for
hairs in his teeth.”

“Kindly fuck
off, Tobe.” Matt’s fist landed swiftly on his brother’s back.

Toby winced as
he wandered off to join a group of beckoning girls.

I checked my
watch. Almost nine-thirty. Best stay away from the drink, lest
Aidan rib me for being sweary again, or I did the unthinkable and
fell asleep on the job.

I bought a beer
for Matt, and Coke for me. The band wasn’t due on until ten and
System of a Down–I was so very proud of myself for recognizing
them–roared in the background as the crowd warmed up.

Matt steered me
over to a group by the front of the stage. “Guys, this is Leila.
From work.”

The three of
them eyed me with something between amusement and suspicion.

“I’m Summer,”
said a pretty blond girl, offering her hand. I shook it gratefully.
Short and impish, dimples nestled in her cheeks when she smiled.
“This is Jude.” She gestured to an overly muscled guy in a tight
t-shirt and eyeliner. “And Niamh.”

Niamh was
something else: milky espresso skin, curls that bounced when she
moved, lips painted like vulva and jeans sprayed over her full
hips. Her fake smile, obvious scrutiny...they made me
uncomfortable. Judging by his narrowed eyes, Matt felt it too.

“Jude’s the
drummer,” Matt explained, pulling me in toward him. “I’ve known him
since I was about six years old. Summer’s his sister.”

I threw my
voice over the music. “Do you have any good stories to tell
me?”

“Many.” Jude
laughed. “But I shall keep a dignified silence.”

“That’d be a
first,” Niamh said.

“Niamh probably
has the most stories,” he retorted slyly. “Get her drunk enough and
she’ll embarrass the fuck out of him.”

Awkward
much?

Summer leaned
in. “They’re always like this. Long story.”

“I won’t
ask.”

“Later, maybe.”
She smiled, then wandered off and dragged Niamh with her.

Niamh snatched
her elbow away and glanced back over her shoulder, eyes flashing.
She’d been in that bed–there was no other explanation. How many
times?

“So,” said
Jude, “you’re a posh lawyer too?”

“We’re not
really posh. The other day, I did some shopping in Tesco.”

“Vile bint. I
hope it wasn’t frozen potato smiley faces.”

“Nothing so
vulgar, darling.” I giggled. “It was Appletise, if I remember
rightly.”

Jude shot the
Coke in my hand a confused look. “Matt, please tell me you haven’t
shacked up with a bird who doesn’t drink?”

Matt shook his
head, grinning. “She drinks, don’t you? She’s just got a prior
engagement.”

“What, you’re
running off and leaving us?” Jude wagged at his finger at me. “I
made all this effort, too. I put deodorant on and everything.”

“That’s very
considerate of you, really. I’ll be here for a while yet,
though.”

He clapped Matt
on the back. “Are you going to come up and do a number for us?”

“You sing,
Matt?”

He squared his
shoulders. “Sometimes. Why, would you like to hear me?”

“Yeah.” I
stared up at him as he drank in the way my breasts swelled over the
corset. “I promise not to laugh, too.”

“Liar,” he
murmured, eyes shining.

God, I could
have shoved him against that stage and eaten him alive. Instead, I
had to wring my hands and keep my distance. I had flashbacks to how
he’d sucked my nipples, how I’d shuddered as the flat of his tongue
melted against my clit. This was worse than being teased.

A couple of
guys began to mess with guitars on the stage, and Jude leapt up to
join them.

“Will you be
okay if I give them a hand?” asked Matt.

“Yeah, of
course.”

“I’ll get
Summer to look after you.”

I raised an
eyebrow. “Not Niamh?”

“I’m sorry
about her.” He swallowed. “I didn’t know she’d be here.”

“Is she your
ex?”

“Yeah.” He ran
his fingers through his hair nervously. “We went out for about four
years, actually.”

I nearly spat
out my Coke. “Four years, and now you don’t even say hello to each
other?”

“It…ended
badly.”

“You don’t
say.” I scanned the room and caught her eyeing us from the bar.
“She has this strange air to her.”

“What, like
 
sleep with one eye open
?” He
chuckled.

“Something like
that.” I leaned closer to him, knowing that she watched. “Why did
you break up?”

“I’ll tell you
later, babe–I should do a mic check.”

“One time? Two
time?”

“Shush, Leila.”
He brushed his fingers under my chin as he smiled, then seemed to
remember that he’d vowed not to touch me. He lowered his gaze and
followed Jude up on to the stage.

I watched as
Matt twisted cables ‘round his fingers and adjusted the mic stand.
He chatted with the other band members so easily. Here, he was in
his element. I envied him for having passion beyond the world of
work–I had no such thing. For me they had always been one and the
same, and now I realized that it didn’t make me as happy as I’d
thought. Law was satisfying, but not this…easy.

Summer appeared
next to me.

“I like your
makeup,” I said, gesturing to the tiny stars that meandered around
her eyes. “It’s so pretty.”

“Oh, cheers.”
She blushed. Adorable. “I like your feathery thing.”

I tightened the
turquoise fascinator against my scalp. “Thanks. I like having an
excuse to wear it.”

“So how long
have you and Matt been seeing each other?”

So innocent a
question, so tongue-tying to answer. “We’re not exactly–I mean–” I
grimaced. “It’s complicated.”

“Good things
always are.” She smiled knowingly. “He’s told you about Niamh,
hasn’t he?”

“Only in
brief.”

She scowled. It
didn’t obscure her fey beauty one bit. “I’d best not say anything,
then.”

“Oh. That
bad?”

“I mean, I
wouldn’t say anything at all…but you’ve probably noticed her giving
you seven shades of evil. Like you said, it’s complicated. And
probably not what you think.”

What
 
did
 
I
think, exactly?

I opened my
mouth to speak again, but was drowned out by the vicious twang of a
guitar.

“Good evening,
girls and boys!” Jude boomed over the PA system.

The crowd
whooped and squalled with obscenities.

“It’s been a
couple of months since we were last here, so it’s great to see
everyone out supporting us tonight. I hope we’re not too
rusty.”

“Get on with
it!” someone shouted in the back.

The band
exchanged chuckles.

“All right, all right!” Jude sat back down behind his drums.
“Let’s get this on the road. We are Dexter’s Noose–and this is one
of our faves.
 
Subterfuge
.”

A cymbal
hissed. An electronic violin-tone wailed.

And then Matt
began to sing.

“
Cynical
cylinder, a burdened bystander

I find your
eyes and I

Don’t like your
soul…”

His voice was
more than deep–it had a grind to it, a stalking growl. He’d gone
from rugby swot to tortured rock god in the space of ten seconds.
It threw me.

I liked it, a
lot.

The grin spread
across my face as the bass crept in, underscoring his low tones. He
knelt a little, clutching the mic with both hands. Caught my eye. I
simmered with something and it made me tremble. Not lust, although
that was there, as always. I couldn’t say truthfully that it was
love.

Pride,
maybe?

He really
 
was
 
good.

“
Feasting
and festering, nobody’s measuring

What you
take

You leave a
hole…”

Then the violin
riff roared, drums exploded and he sprang to his feet with a
howl.

“
Do they see
what I see

A collage of
misery?

Eating away at
me

Get out of my
skin!

I’m drowned in
the deluge

I’m balls deep
in subterfuge

Get out of my
skin, this skin you’re in

It don’t like
you…”

I clung to the
front of the stage as the crowed shoved and swayed. The music grew
heavier, the adrenaline soared and I found my hips twisting, my arm
in the air. My eyelids were heavy with the rapture.

I’d been
attracted to many types of men but I’d never once imagined myself
with a musician. I suppose I’d always thought it clichéd. Now, as
Matt stalked across the stage...ah, what had I already missed?
Maybe he was more like me than I’d realized: a performer.

The song ground
to a halt and the room erupted in whoops of applause. Matt set the
mic in front of one of the guitarists and bounded off the stage,
waving as people cheered at him. I caught him and he nuzzled into
my throat. Hot from the stage, he baulked like candle wax in my
arms, and it was instinctive to hold him there before he drew
away.

“Cheers to
Matt, our occasional guest vocalist,” Jude yelled. “When he feels
like it.”

Matt took my
hand and as the next song claimed the room, we made our way to the
back.

“Your ride will
be here in five minutes,” he said, gesturing to the watch on his
wrist.

“I don’t want
to go now,” I said. “I want to stay and hear you sing again.”

He was still
catching his breath and the words fell from his mouth in little
rushes. “Did you like it, then?”

“You were
amazing. I didn’t know you had it in you.” I brushed a hair from
his t-shirt. “You should get your own band.”

“Would you be
my groupie?” He grinned.

“An untouchable
groupie is no fun.”

“I’m fucking
rubbish at not touching you, Leila–in case you hadn’t noticed.”

I reached out
to hold him and he stepped away.

“Not that you
should encourage me,” he said ruefully. “I meant what I said.”

“Okay, okay.” I
pouted. “I should get going, I suppose.”

“I’ll see you
out.”

The night air
was a welcome freshness, crisp in my throat. I recognized John’s
car as soon as we stepped out of the chapel.

“I don’t know
what time I’ll be back–”

“It’s okay,” he
cut in. “I’ll wait up. I’m not going to be able to sleep
anyway.”

“You’re sure
you want me to do this?”

“Yeah.” He took
my hand and gave it a brief squeeze. “I’ll send you a text with my
address for the driver. Let me know when you’re on your way home,
okay?”

Home.

“Okay. And
don’t have too much fun without me,” I warned, squeezing back.

“Same goes for
you.”

He released me
and I made myself walk to the car. Charlotte wouldn’t let me look
back at him, but it wasn't because she didn't care. 

For the first
time since Charlie, she was afraid. 

Chapter 8

“Leila.” John
smiled warmly. “How’ve you been, kid?”

I leaned
forward from the back seat to give him a hug. “Busy.”

“Aye.” He
pulled out and on to the road. “Are you at the wedding
tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss
it. Are you?”

“Yep. Trying to
bring my wife, but she’s not having any of it.”

I laughed. “I
wonder why?”

It was good to
have a minute of peace. Slowly, the pounding bass that infected my
thoughts subsided, and I zoned out. I always followed this little
ritual before a job–I needed to forget myself. Remember
Charlotte.

One minute of
peace was all I got.

“Good evening.”
Joseph’s voice was gravelly with static on the other end of the
phone. Don’t ask me why I answered his call. Don’t ask Charlotte,
either.

“Evening.” I
pressed a finger into my vacant ear. “The signal’s pretty bad here,
just to warn you.”

“And where are
you?”

“Off to meet a
friend.”

“Liar.” That
same playful tone had rasped in my ear from behind. “I’m at a strip
club.”

“If you are,
it’s an awfully quiet one.”

“Unwaxed
strippers. If you don’t laugh, you’ll cry, so everyone just
pretends it isn’t happening.”

Second-guessing
this man never made me feel comfortable, but the invitation was
intriguing. “You’re at home.”

“Just another
night with my ginger beer and Sylvanian Families.”

“I bet you put
Mrs Badger in a gimp mask.”

His snigger
swelled to a full-blown laugh. “There’s a mental image that needs
bleaching out with vodka.” A pause. “Hmm. You’ve gone to meet
Matt’s parents.”

Bloody office
gossips. “You know, this is woefully unsubtle. I expected more of
you, Mr Merchant.”

“Leila. You
don’t want to be there.”

One knee fell
on top of the other with a little smack of flesh. Crossed legs made
me feel safer around him, even around his voice. “That’s not
true.”

“Oh, come on. You don’t want to be there any more than I want
to be finishing these fucking reports. Come
home.”
 
Come
see me.

Dovecoate Hall
loomed at the end of the drive. It was a gorgeous building, all
stained glass windows and winding turrets like something from a
Grimm fairytale. It looked more than a little eerie with its
half-deserted car park and topiary creatures shrouded in dim
light–Medusa had glared at the carnival and skulked off to
hunt.

“I have to
go.”

“Leila.”

“I’m busy.”

“So am I, sweetheart. It’s not even
relevant.”
 
Because we should be busy together.