Chapter 10
‘My little bunny. I can’t believe you were arrested.’
Marcus was lying on the hotel bed, hands intertwined behind his head, looking dashing in a linen shirt, striped braces and tweed trousers. He hadn’t bothered to remove his brogues.
‘Were you scared?’
She nodded. She hadn’t been, but having not seen him for over three weeks, she was ready for some sympathy. The girls had tried to offer some, but she couldn’t shake the annoying fact that she’d copped the rap for something they’d been doing.
He leaned across, nuzzled her neck and nibbled her ear. She’d been there barely a few minutes, and, as hot as he looked, she wanted a glass of wine before they got down to it.
‘I have to go to court.’
‘You’ll be fine.’ He began to undo her trousers.
‘I’ll be fined. It could be up to two grand!’
After the shock and frustration of the charges had worn off, she had gone to work on the problem. She’d done her research, reading widely on the subject, and wangling informal chats with criminal lawyers. She’d applied to the Crown Prosecution Service to refer the case back to the police for a caution, which would be a more proportional response to a first offense. She hadn’t yet heard back, which meant she needed to prepare in case it ended up in front of a magistrate. From what she’d gathered, representing herself, albeit following some judicious advice when doing so, would be the most cost-effective way of dealing with the situation. There was no defence to be mounted, no extenuating circumstances to be brought to the court’s attention. If it got that far, she would likely get a rap on the knuckles, a conditional discharge (so definitely no getting in trouble for eighteen months) and be liable for a fine that she’d get to pay off over a period of time.
‘Just ask for a pay rise,’ said Marcus.
His hand was in her knickers, a five-fingered octopus searching for a hidey-hole. She hadn’t told work. It wasn’t that it would have repercussions for her job, but Ollie would only lord it over her. She’d keep it on the QT and pretend like it never happened. Her promotion would cover the fine. She removed his hand, got off the bed and poured herself a glass of wine.
‘You don’t want to be a character witness for me, do you?’
It was worth an ask.
‘You know I can’t do that.’
‘But you’re the most impressive person I know.’
‘I assume you mean in the trouser department.’
She shook her head. For an intelligent man running a grown-up newspaper, there was plenty of tabloid hack lurking in there.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Come back here. I’ve missed you.’
She returned to the bed.
‘So where did Bryony go at such short notice this evening?’
His call to meet up had been an unexpected surprise.
‘The opera. Be there for hours.’
She’d been to the opera once. It was like watching a musical being played at the wrong speed, in the wrong language. When her date had suggested it, he’d insisted she’d be in paroxysms of emotion by the end. He was wrong. The closest she’d come to tears was when she’d dropped her grab bag of chocolate on the floor during the first act, and therefore had nothing to enjoy for the remaining three hours.
Marcus resumed his digital overtures. ‘Pity about America, though, baby.’
‘What about it?’
‘You can’t get a visa if you have a record, can you?’
‘What the fuck?’
She jumped back up, grabbed her phone, and googled frantically, her mood darkening as every avenue of hope turned into a cul-de-sac. After several minutes she conceded defeat. Unless she got let off, it would be at least five years before she could apply for a visa.
‘It might still get dropped,’ he said.
She flopped onto the bed and took another gulp of wine.
‘Why do I feel that this isn’t entirely coincidental? Of all the people, why did they make a beeline for me?’
‘It’s probably because you were the hottest person there. I wanted to frisk you when I first laid eyes on you.’ His fingers played eency-weency spider up towards her chest.
‘I was really excited about it.’ Her voice almost cracked. She coughed and focussed on the bad art on the opposite wall.
‘Don’t sweat it too much. Most of the places on your list are shitholes anyway.’
Her jaw tensed. She slammed the wine down, flinching at the squeal as it hit the mirrored bedside table. Her dad had wanted to see those places, and that was good enough for her. She yanked his hand away and turned from him.
‘Go fuck yourself, Marcus.’
A sudden tiredness took hold of her. It had been another long week, it was only Thursday, and the very thing that had been keeping her going now hung in the balance. She hugged the corner of the duvet to her chest.
Marcus shifted his weight on the bed. Was he going to put a loving arm around her?
‘Jesus, you’re being a real bitch, do you know that?’
Clearly not.
‘I’m upset, you dick!’
‘I was trying to make you feel better.’
‘Well, you suck at it.’
She tried to focus on the steady hum of the air conditioning. A door closed further down the hall, a muted thump followed by someone talking as they passed the door.
‘I’ve had a shitty week too,’ he said. ‘That’s why I wanted to see you.’
‘Oh, is this suddenly about you?’
‘I just meant?—’
‘You know what? I’m going.’
She was off the bed again. Her bag was by the door, but where had she put her bloody shoes? Without them, this wasn’t going to be the dramatic point-making exit she’d envisaged. She glanced sideways at him. It was his move.
He lifted himself up on his elbows. ‘Hey baby. I’m sorry. I didn’t know this trip meant so much to you.’
Why should he? She’d never mentioned her parents and he’d never asked about them. He pouted. The lies those lips must have told.
‘Why don’t we have a bath? Help you unwind,’ he said.
‘Is that your subtle way of getting the rest of my clothes off?’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t even have to get in if you don’t want.’
He held her gaze. He had a knack of gazing into her eyes like someone who had seen a lot of eyes in his lifetime, but found hers particularly appealing.
‘I’ll make it extra bubbly. I’ll even throw in a back rub.’ He unbuttoned his cuffs and began to roll them back in readiness. ‘Please don’t go.’
He held his arms out in supplication, palms up, like a magician trying to prove he had nothing to hide; but Marcus always had something up his sleeve.
‘Besides, I haven’t told you all my news yet. I have some gossip for you.’ He slipped his braces off, undid his trousers. ‘Come and have a bath and I can tell you all about it.’
She was still narked off with him, but the dickhead next door would only be cranking out some bongo bullshit back at her flat, and the wine here was infinitely better. Plus a bit of salacious news might be fun to hear.
‘Fine. But order us another bottle first.’
She was officially drowning her sorrows.