That gave me pause. If he really wanted to make me hate Chris, that was all he needed to say. And he hadn’t. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I hope at least you’ll start treating people better. You can’t walk over people like that.”
“I know. At least say that you won’t cut me out. I hate not being able to talk to you.”
My brother came up behind Chris and tapped him on the shoulder. “Out the way, short stuff. And if you even look at my sister the wrong way, I’ll break your legs.”
Chris paled as Adam eased past me and sent me a subtle wink. Struggling not to laugh, I said, “You understand that warning, don’t you?”
“Yeah, it’s pretty clear,” he said shakily. “Please, just think about it. We were good mates for so long.”
“Because I had no idea about the kind of person you are!” I breathed out. “If we’re ever going to be friends again, you need to not treat me like a puppet. I’ve got my eyes open now, okay?”
He nodded. “I’ll give you a ring later, maybe?”
“Maybe.” I shut the door, wondering why his apology didn’t make me feel any better.
The week dragged by like cement. I woke up on Saturday morning in search of tea and toast, following a night ignoring offers from Summer, Iain, Andie and Jay to go out and party and listening to horrifically depressing music. Massive Attack topped the list. I saw the post on the doormat and sifted through it. Mum, Mum, Adam, Dave, Mum, Dad, Me. Me? It was a large envelope with DO NOT BEND printed on the front. I took the envelope into the kitchen while I made the tea.
I opened the envelope to see a range of black-and-white printed photographs. I shook them out to see a folded note inside as well. Ryan’s handwriting. The note started shaking as my stomach plummeted in fear.
Dear Courtney,
You’ve had enough of me apologising, and I probably can’t say it enough, but I am sorry. I know you don’t believe me, but any motivation to get revenge on Chris vanished pretty damn quick. And without it I would not have had the best six months of my life with you. Melissa is a fucking Barbie doll compared to you. I mean she’s completely unrealistic. How scientifically she’s supposed to breathe and walk, God knows.
That’s all. Other than I’ve never been more in love with anyone than you. And there’s something you should hear, and I don’t know why no one has spoken to you about it, but as you’ve taught me the importance of honesty, here goes.
These pictures are for you. I don’t know why you’ve got this complex about the way you look, and I won’t even try to pretend that I understand it. As I’ve seen you naked, I feel in the best position to judge. I need you to see how everyone else sees you, how I see you. A beautiful, funny, sexy, loopy bird. I love you, and I hope that you’ll forgive me. I’m not going to send you the digital. These pictures, Homer and your emails are the only proof that I ever had you in my life.
Ryan xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx (coz you is damn special and you deserve lots of kisses forever)
There were so many pictures of me, and I couldn’t remember him taking any of them. There was one of the two of us at the store re-launch party, taken by Ryan extending his arm. His eyes look disturbingly catlike in the black-and-white print, and I was aiming a pouty kiss toward his cheek. I wanted to think something disparaging, that at least the dress looked all right, but I looked all right. I looked more than all right. There was one of me skipping from his flat in a sleeveless t-shirt and layered miniskirt, me in an open laugh, oh my God, you could see my tonsils, me in Ryan’s bathroom wearing a towel and singing into a hairbrush.
Oh, you son of a bitch!
I thought angrily. I hurried through the other photos to see if there were any nude ones. The dodgiest one was me fast asleep, with a white sheet curled around me. A suspicion made me turn the photograph over.
All the glamour ones have been sent to
The Sun
. When you’re as famous as Katie Price, you can thank me later
.
I couldn’t help it, I started laughing. Maybe it was just a mark of how good a photographer Ryan was that I looked really good in all of them. No double chin, no bingo wings, no rolls of stomach. But then we had spent a lot of time having sex, so I was pretty toned.
Something dropped onto the photograph. I touched a hand to my cheek and realised that I was crying. This was boring. I had to go and see him. If anything, I should go and get those nudes back from him.
* * *
I still had my keys, so I stepped in and nearly tripped over the can of Stella that had obviously been thrown against the door in frustration. I picked it up and carried it into the living room. The place was a mess. I put the can down on top of the newspapers and takeaway leaflets on the coffee table. I started to chicken out. I could do this another day.
I heard a roar from Ryan. “Where the fuck is it!”
He stormed out of his bedroom and came to a screeching halt when he saw me standing there. “The furniture won’t respond to if you take that tone with it.”
“Jesus,” he whispered, eyes wide.
“No, it’s Courtney,” I corrected. “It’s been a month.”
“Six weeks,” he corrected me.
He wasn’t wearing anything other than a pair of jeans. He kept blinking, probably thinking that I was going to disappear. He looked gorgeous.
“I would sit down, but…” I made a gesture to the pile of crap that was making a mountain on his sofa. Then I indicated his lack of clothing.
He closed his eyes for a second, then told me, “I’ll be back in a minute.”
He disappeared into his room and emerged tugging on a t-shirt that I had picked up for him. He scooped up some of the rubbish on the sofa and shoved it onto the armchair. I sat down awkwardly, then tensed as he sat next to me. I edged back into the sofa arm.
“Hi,” he said hesitantly.
“Hey you,” I murmured. We were silent for a few minutes; then I cleared my throat. “What…er…what were you looking for?”
“Your letter,” he said abruptly.
“Oh,” I said. I took the envelope out of my bag and gripped it with both hands so it wouldn’t shake. “I came about these.”
Ryan leaned back into the sofa defensively. “You didn’t have to bring them back. You could have shoved them in the post.”
“I’m rubbish with snail mail,” I reminded him. “Do you want to tell me when you took these?”
He watched me under his lashes. “If it’s about the one of you in the shower…well…”
“More about the one of me asleep,” I clarified.
“I could have pulled the sheet down,” he excused flippantly. I gave him a stilling look, and he held up his hands, “Look it wasn’t meant to be offensive. You looked pretty cute, snoring away, so… You can’t argue with those photos, so… Fuck, I’m shutting up.”
There was another long moment of silence. I gripped the envelope harder, to stop myself from wanting to comfort him.
“How’s Melissa?” I asked.
He looked at me tiredly. “I don’t know. Haven’t spoken to her since we had a little chat on the high road. Consisting, if you’re interested, in ‘fuck off,’ ‘fuck off, you empty-headed cheating bitch, no I don’t want to get back together,’ ‘fuck off,’ ‘fuck off,’ and ‘fuck off.’”
“And what if she gets back together with Chris?”
“Good for her,” he said without emotion. “I’m sure the double funeral will be featured in
Hello
. I can take the photos, you can flash your knickers.”
He really didn’t care what she did?
“Ryan…” I started.
He closed his eyes. “If you’re going to say how much of a shit I am for what I did, there’s no need. I know. I don’t need to hear it any more. I just hoped that…” He opened his eyes and glared at me as if he resented my entire existence. “Why are you here? What else do you want me to say or do? Believe me, you don’t have to be physically here to make me feel any more of a cunt than I already do.”
I recoiled from his anger.
He sighed and rubbed the heel of his palms into his eyes. “Sorry. This girl I love hates my guts. Completely fair, but I still feel like I’m dying.” He gave me a watery smile. “How about you? Good few weeks?”
“Fucking horrific wouldn’t begin to cover it,” I admitted.
“Really? I thought you got rid of a smarmy, fake, lying two-faced bastard of a boyfriend?”
My face flamed. “I was angry when I said that. I didn’t mean it.”
“Yeah you did,” he said sadly, “and you were justified.”
“Let me ask you something. Why didn’t you tell me what Chris did?”
“It didn’t matter by then. You stopped being his friend, his standby girl, and you were my friend, my girlfriend. And I didn’t want you to be hurt by him. He really is a massive wanker.”
I snorted with laughter. “I know. He’s got firm warning from Adam.”
“Break his legs?” Ryan guessed. “I got the same warning.”
“Recently?”
“I saw him a few days ago.”
“What the hell did he say?”
“If you get back with my sister and upset her again, I will break your legs.” Goodness, maybe Adam knew me better than I thought that meathead did. “That’s why I sent you the letter and the photos. Because he thought…there was a chance that…” I cupped his face with both hands, and his voice faltered.
“I’ve missed you every single second,” I spoke over the lump in my throat. “And I’ve just decided that I don’t care. About the how and the why or who came before me. I just want to be with you. As long as you still love me…”
He pulled me into his arms, a hug so tight I thought he was going to crack my ribs. “Of course I still love you.”
“But I was a horrible wailing banshee.”
“Silly banshee. Just because I fell for you in a second and a half doesn’t mean I’d fall out just as fast. I was about to get desperate.”
I buried my face into his neck, inhaling the beautiful musky smell of him. Good God, I’d missed him so badly. “I wished all sorts of horrible things on you.”
“I’m sure.” He chuckled, catching my hand and cradling it to his chest. “I had that coming.”
“You’ll have a lot of other things coming if you don’t clean this place up…”
“My cleaner quit. She was fed up of my beer/weed breath.”
“Well, I’ll quit too if…” He simply silenced me with his mouth.
Okay, I thought,
I'm
shutting up now.
From: Ryan Klark
[email protected]
...
To: Courtney Phillips
[email protected]
...
Date: 12 March 2011
Re: Concrete Jungle
Bored. Aren’t you finished yet? How long does it take to buy a dress?
xxx
From: Courtney Phillips
[email protected]
...
To: Ryan Klark
[email protected]
...
Date: 12 March 2011
Re: Patience
My dearest darling almost husband. Wait a bloody minute. I’m not picking it myself. I’m just humouring your mum. You know Selene’s almost finished the dress. But I get to hang out with you when Robert’s not yelling at you to get off your freakin’ phone. xx
From: Ryan Klark
[email protected]
...
To: Courtney Phillips
[email protected]
...
Date: 12 March 2011
Re: Too late
He would fire me if he was paying me anything, but he’s not and he knows I’m good so he’s letting me get away with it. When you’re done being dragged around Vera Wang by my shop-obsessed mother, come to the Meatpacking District. Babe, you won’t know what’s hit you. Wear your ring as well, I don’t care if it needs sizing, I’m not having any blokes trying it on. xxx
From: Courtney Phillips
[email protected]
...
To: Ryan Klark
[email protected]
...
Date: 12 March 2011
Re: Much too late
Two guys tried it on today already. Waiter included. I felt so embarrassed that he had to bring me food! Don’t worry, I think guys can tell when a girl is taken. Meatpacking… He he he…
xx
From: Ryan Klark [email protected]
To: Courtney Phillips [email protected]
Date: 12 March 2011
Re: Dirty girl
Love that. Love you. Okay, I’m definitely going, Robert’s threatening to throw me off this building. Love you still. xxx
PS: you’re missing an ‘x’. Get on that, babe.
From: Courtney Phillips
[email protected]
...
To: Ryan Klark
[email protected]
...
Date: 12 March 2011
Re: So you should
I am so sneaking into your room tonight. Love you too. xxx (one more coz you is mental)
**
Billy London
**