Five
The next week was disjointed and didn’t follow its usual mundane pattern, thank goodness. I was working now and embraced the change. A break from my usual routine was welcomed. Ever since I’d finished high school, I’d seemed to have lost my way.
During the day when I wasn’t working, I threw myself into a variety of different tasks, stuff I had meant to do for ages but had just never gotten around to. I went through my wardrobe and put a pile of clothes together for the charity shops and helped Amy in her dark room to sort out some of her photographs.
Nixon had texted me a couple of times to check on me after my dip, probably still feeling guilty but that was it. I hadn’t seen him since.
Amy spoke about recent run-ins with Mason and how their battles had started to become more grown up. She was quite animated when she brought him up and I could easily read between the lines. It wasn’t as straightforward as she made out. I didn’t overly analyse it; it would be way too tiring to try to establish what was really going through my sister’s mind.
When I teased her about Mason, she started to talk about a boy at work whom she got on well with, Alex I believe his name was. Possibly to knock me off track. She’d started working full-time at Kiplings and had met him there. He sounded nice; a bit dull but then I wasn’t exactly the most exciting person on the planet.
I was partly relieved when she brought Alex up, as I certainly didn’t want her getting involved with any of the McKenna boys. One of them already owned one Taylor-Joy and that was enough.
It was the weekend and the function room attached to the pub had been hired out for a twenty-first birthday party. Mattie had promised that he would pick me up from work in his car, as the event wasn’t due to end until after midnight. I usually walked home, but not at that time. My parents would never let me walk anywhere in the dark.
The party room had been decorated by balloon arrangements which sat in the centre of each circular table. There were ten tables dotted around the central dance floor, all covered with crisp white cloths and the chairs slotted beneath them wore fancy covers adorned with a pink bow. The lighting was dim and warm fairy lights were dotted around the walls.
At one end of the function room, there was a small bar and a door to the tap room and at the opposite end, a pair of French doors that opened onto the patio and garden area. That section was only small but had also been decorated with fairy lights. It was the area where most of the smokers would congregate.
When I first arrived at work, the DJ was in the process of setting up his speaker system at one end of the room. To say it was just a small local pub, the function room was quite large and looked elegant, the epitome of party time. I felt a little envious that I wasn’t to be a guest that night. It would have been fun to get dressed up and have a dance. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been anywhere. My cousin's wedding last year possibly. But then, I didn’t get out much, did I? When I’d sorted my clothes out earlier that week, I hadn’t realised how many dresses I owned that I had never worn. I had left them sitting there at the back of my wardrobe still pristine in their packaging, looking sad and alone. A bit like their owner really.
That night’s event had been booked by Mr and Mrs Bronson for their daughter, Rebecca. It was to celebrate her birthday, but also doubled up as a going away party, as the family were due to move to Cromer later that month. My brother had once been friends with her brother Wesley, but I didn’t really know either of them. Of course not, that would suggest that I had been allowed a social life.
Melody and I arrived at work at the same time and were in the back room getting changed into our plain black skirts and white blouses. As it was a posh function, we had been asked to wear heels as they looked more elegant .
This was the first function I had worked and I really wasn’t sure how I would get through the night in heels. They weren’t that high, but I wasn’t used to them. I was clumsy enough in flats. I imagined I would need new feet at the end of the evening, but at least we weren’t waiting tables. Just working behind the bar and collecting glasses. External caterers were providing the buffet, so the guests would help themselves when it opened.
It was just after seven in the evening and people had started to arrive. Rebecca Bronson, her other sister Michelle, and her brother Wesley had turned up with their parents and had set up a table in one corner for birthday presents. They were all dressed up and looked ready to have a good time. Rebecca looked stunning in a short, dusky pink satin dress which matched the colour of the balloons and clung to her skin, almost like a present waiting to be unwrapped.
I stood behind the bar with Melody and we were taking orders. It was less chaotic at first until a minibus of people arrived and a cluster of guests all came in at once and flooded the bar. I started to panic as I got a couple of orders wrong. Fortunately, they were for two young guys from the village, I didn’t know their names but I’d seen them around. They were both tall with light brown hair and mischievous eyes and so similar in appearance that I imagined they had to be related.
As I was pulling a pint for Mr Bronson, I heard one of them say, “Fuck me, Jenna Taylor-Joy serving me beer; this must be what heaven looks like.”
I smiled to myself as I handed Mr Bronson his pint of Black Sheep ale.
“Thanks love. Get yourself one,” he offered. I smiled but declined, saying I was working.
The hustle and bustle kicked off as more people stood, waiting to be served. Impatience oozed across the bar. Some were locals but most were guests of the party.
When we had a quieter moment, Melody said, “Never turn down a drink Jenna. If the landlady hears you, she’ll kick off. ”
My brow scrunched as I leaned against the back counter which was covered with bottles of every kind of spirit you can imagine, “But I don’t really drink,” I replied, feeling like I’d been told off for something.
The look Melody gave me was grave, “It doesn’t need to be alcohol, just a Red Bull or a Coke. It’s so they still get the money from the sale.” Of course, once she’d explained it, I understood. It still made me feel like a bit of a cheat though.
I quickly wiped down the bar as a Rick Astley song started up in the function room. There was laughter, the occasional scream (from both male and female lungs), along with the pumping from the music and the sound of people dancing. It was now only around nine in the evening and the session was in full flow.
To say that I hadn’t sat down for most of the night, my feet were holding up quite well. I was sweating and my white blouse was stuck to the skin of my spine. Melody had gone for her break. The buffet had opened and so the bar had become quiet. Both the landlord and the landlady had been constantly collecting glasses.
Checking my appearance in the mirrored wall that lined the back of the bar where some spirits were mounted, my eyes searched my cheeks. They were quite flushed and part of my hair had fallen from its top-knot. I still looked OK; a bit harassed maybe.
When I turned back to the counter, Mr Merry, a man who used to teach me English at school was waiting at the bar.
I shot him a smile of recognition and his whole face lit up.
“My God, Jennifer Taylor-Joy, what on earth are you doing pulling pints?” he chuckled. He had grey hair and thick bushy eyebrows. He had to be in his seventies by now. Mr Merry had such kind eyes.
Grinning, I replied, “Have to make a living somehow,” I joked. Everyone in our village knew that the Taylor-Joys were not strapped for cash .
My reply encouraged a whoop of laughter and he punched a fist toward the ceiling, “Good for you girl,” he shot back, pleased with my reply. He then motioned towards the boy or should I say man standing quietly beside him.
“Please can I introduce you to my grandson, Miles? Miles, meet Jennifer or should I say, Jenna. I used to teach her at school and she was a real pleasure.”
I glanced quickly to my side as Melody appeared back from her break and started serving another customer who had just appeared. Her timing was perfect as it allowed me to catch up with my old teacher for a minute or so. You weren’t supposed to converse with the customers for too long for obvious reasons.
I twisted my head to look up into the brightest, bluest eyes I had ever seen. Miles, as he’d been introduced was extremely handsome.
A surge of noise exploded by the main doors into the pub, almost drowning out my words. Well, that and the Spice Girls song that filtered in from the party room.
I smiled up at Miles, my lips wide as they took in the look of appreciation on his face. His expression screamed that he liked what he saw and I felt myself blush by such an open display of interest.
“Pleased to meet you, what can I get you?” I asked.
Miles’s lips curled at the corner and he leaned on the bar, “Your phone number for starters,” he replied. His voice was deep and warming. It made me feel nice.
Mr Merry shot a look between us and his smile became much meatier, “Bloody hell boy, you’re a fast mover,” he laughed and then ordered two pints of larger.
My face was on fire, but it was a nice heat and one I welcomed. His apparent attraction to me was so natural and unforced. There were no mixed messages or hidden depths to it. It just seemed so much more straightforward and wasn’t that the way it should be? Not like what I’d had with Nixon. Who spoke in a code that probably would never be deciphered .
I started to pour them both their drinks, ignoring the request from Miles for my phone number, but I shot him a look from my lashes to say that I had welcomed his comment.
Miles took his pint as his grandfather paid. Mr Merry then moved away, muttering something about being on table nine.
“So, I could ask what time you get off work, but that would be really cheesy,”
I grinned, “There’s nothing wrong with cheesy, but I’d have to say I finish way too late to be doing anything other than going to bed.”
“That works for me too,” he replied with a saucy grin. His words instantly ruined the moment for me. It was too forward too soon, and I suddenly felt uncomfortable and shot him a half smile. Attempting to make it look like I found his joke funny when I didn’t.
He realised his mistake and attempted some damage control but for me, it was too late.
A larger group had appeared at the bar and Melody was in the process of serving them. I moved to help, muttering under my breath that I had to serve.
Miles moved forwards against the bar and his beer sloshed against the surface. He briefly touched my hand, “Please, accept my apologies. I didn’t mean to come over as a slime,” he apologised, his face oozing regret. It stopped me in my tracks and I glanced up at him from beneath my lashes.
“Don’t worry, it’s fine,” I replied.
He pulled his hand away from mine as if sensing that he also shouldn’t be touching me, “Sorry, again. Shit. I feel like such a tool. I’m not very good at the flirting thing, especially with someone who looks like you do.”
I took his apology as genuine. I knew what he meant; I too was a duck out of water when talking to boys. I shot him a kind smile, wanting him to feel at ease.
“Honestly, you just took me by surprise. I’m also useless at flirting. No harm done,” I reassured him. His face beamed his relief and he drew back and took a sip of his pint .
“Again, I apologise,” he repeated, his gaze flickering over me again with keen male interest.
“Apologise for what exactly,” came a deep, confident voice. The tone was interrogation-like and I turned to glance up at the man who now stood beside Miles, larger than life.
It was Nixon, filling my vision with his huge frame and massive shoulders. The blood started to simmer in my veins at his nearness.
My eyes roamed over his features. He was wearing one of those unimpressed expressions he usually fashioned but this time there was an accusatory element. Part of me wanted to hide and the other to throw myself at him. Where the heck had he been all week? Where were these lessons, he was going to give me? Or had that just been in my head?
Standing next to Miles, it was like a boy beside a man. There was no comparison.
Heat scorched all the way to my belly. Nixon looked amazing . He was wearing a smart shirt. It pulled tight across his huge shoulders, outlining the muscle that lay beneath. Polished but still rugged at the same time. A spine-tingling concoction. He hadn’t shaved and that added to the rough with the smooth effect. A look he wore like a boss.
He gave me a slight nod of acknowledgement but that was it, no hello, how are you? Nothing. He was cold and indifferent again and it annoyed me. Where did he get off treating me like that? He gets away with it because you let him , my subconscious told me.
My eyes were literally glued to him and I was supposed to be serving. A flash of red then distracted me and I refocused, homing in, my senses standing to attention as I noticed he wasn’t alone. He was with a girl, a pretty one with long red hair and I felt like I’d been physically slapped. A shard of something not nice stabbed into me .
I can honestly say it felt like my heart had been ripped from my chest and I was standing there with a huge gaping hole in my body. One that everyone could see but didn’t comment on.
Nixon had brought a girl to a party at the pub when he knew I worked there. He was obviously one of the guests. He looked way too nice to have dropped by for a pint.
I was surprised my eyes didn’t pop from my head.
Miles turned to glance up at Nixon with a curious expression. I could see from his face that he had picked up on the aggressive note in the other man’s tone.
After a beat of silence, he replied, “Nothing to do with you mate, just having a private conversation with the lady,” Miles returned dryly.
Nixon cocked an eyebrow, his date curling herself into his side whilst she eyed the assorted spirits on the bar. She totally ignored me. Of course, she would, I was just a member of staff, no threat. “And now it’s over, other people are waiting to get served,” he stated arrogantly, his expression bleak.
Miles raised his pint in a silent salute before shooting me a look, “Maybe I’ll see you later.”
Nixon’s eyes narrowed as they watched Miles high-tail it away from the bar and then he locked his glare on me whilst sliding a hand around his date’s waist. He did it in a way that suggested he was purposefully trying to taunt me.
Our afternoon together where Nixon had taken me riding flashed before my eyes, cruelly mocking me. What was going on? He’d also been so nice to me and so tender after he’d half drowned me. Well, his version of nice. It made me feel wanted. Now he appeared to be ignoring me again.
I shuffled sideways behind the bar with my eyebrows raised, ready to take his order. Hopefully, I managed to keep the pain I felt out of my expression. The girl beside him whispered something in his ear and he turned to glance down at her with a smile. A smile for goodness’ sake, something he rarely allowed me to see. I suddenly felt sick .
“A glass of white wine and two Bud lights please,” Nixon said in a bland voice. Totally expressionless, his harsh tone from earlier had left with Miles. He spoke to me as if he didn’t know me. Like we were strangers. I had no alternative but to play his game but I refused to be daunted by his probing gaze.
As I was putting his order together, I could feel his date's eyes on me. Our gazes briefly met, she wore an expression of interest and a faint smile. I decided against attempting to read into it and placed their drinks on the bar.
“Twelves pounds please,” I said, my voice wobbling slightly, my nerves starting to fray. I resisted the urge to curve my arms around my body protectively and went for the card machine.
Nixon took his time to pay, first twisting to give one of the beers to Mason, who was standing behind him talking to another man. He then handed the wine to the girl. She took it with a smile and a, “Thank you, darling.” which I totally didn’t appreciate.
He then withdrew his wallet and looked down at me for a long moment before saying, “Would you like something?” His smile was cool and impersonal.
The air tightened around me. It suddenly felt like his hands were wrapped around my organs, squeezing the air from my lungs.
A red mist suddenly arose from nowhere and a wave rolled into my tummy as I replied a little too tartly, “I don’t want anything from you, thank you.” I then raised the card machine, to illustrate that I was awaiting payment.
His stony look wavered slightly and there was a beat of silence before he withdrew his card and placed it on the card reader. As soon as it had beeped, I broke eye contact and turned away, muttering a thank you. I didn’t miss his date’s face or how she looked back and forth between us during our silent, toxic exchange.
Luckily, I was then saved from any further torture. “Jenna, a bit of help would be nice,” Melody put in from the side of me with a flustered face. This rocked me out of my horrified zone .
“Sorry,” I replied and turned to ask who was next.
I served a few more people in an absolute daze, I felt numb. My eyes would keep scanning past the bar into the party room, searching for Nixon. Why was anyone guess. If I had any sense, I should swallow whatever I felt for him and move the heck on. Was he really worth all the torture? Was any man?
He knew I worked there and yet he’d brought a date with him? My early feeling of hurt was festering into something else. Anger. An emotion I wasn’t that familiar with.
As I eyed the assorted spirits at the back of the bar, I felt like plunging headfirst into one of the whisky bottles. I’d never been fully drunk and heard it was the best cure for all sorts of emotions.
The number of people at the bar gradually reduced as an assortment of mouthwatering desserts were set out on the buffet table and I was asked to collect glasses. I attempted to keep my eyes down, not wanting to see Nixon with the girl.
I started in the main bar area, not relishing the thought of entering the function room where they would be. I saw Mason going to the men’s loos at one stage but he didn’t see me thankfully.
It was getting late and people were gradually getting more drunk. I could feel all eyes on me and suggestive comments were rife from some of the guys, even the older ones. I found the attention stressful and anxiety bubbled in my stomach. I decided at that point that I would hand my notice in after that shift. I just didn’t have it in me to be in such a rowdy environment. I had thought about texting Mattie to ask him to pick me up early, but my phone was dead. He was due to come for me at one in the morning.
In the function room, the music was loud and there was a crowd of people dancing. I had to walk around the edges of the room so I wasn’t knocked over. I saw Wesley and his friends in one of the corners and of course his sister. But the rest I didn’t recognise .
Of course, it was inevitable, the last table I came to was the one where Nixon and his brother Mason were. Their other brothers hadn’t been invited it appeared.
I tried to keep eye contact away from Nixon but saw Mason’s lip curl as he looked back and forth between his brother and me. The girl Nixon had brought was half over his lap and I felt like bursting into tears. My fingers tightened over the tray of glasses I held.
She was an attractive girl and was wearing a lace dress that clung tightly to her curvy body. Nixon had his hand around her waist and as he saw me, a cruel smile curled his lips before he turned his head, his fingers sweeping up to clasp his date’s jaw and he kissed her, hard. His tongue swept into her mouth once, but his eyes remained locked with mine during that entire upsetting moment.
He must have seen my misery, Mason did and I caught a glint of sympathy as he knocked back his beer. He then watched me with a cynical slant to his mouth. I turned back to notice Nixon’s other hand resting on the girl’s thigh, he was full of lethal charm.
Lifting my chin, I collected the empty glass on their table and twisted away, tears at the back of my eyes. If I cried in front of them, I would be so embarrassed.
Dumping the tray with the glasses on the bar I apologised to Melody who again looked rushed off her feet and went to the toilet. I needed to pull myself together.
Sitting on the lid of the loo in the bathroom for around five minutes, I managed to dry my eyes. I wasn’t wearing mascara so didn’t have to worry about smudges. As I flushed the toilet and unlocked the door, I exited the cubicle and my eyes landed on that black lace dress I had seen only moments ago.
Nixon’s date was standing in front of the sinks, applying lipstick and our eyes met through the reflection in the mirror .
I cast my gaze away and went to wash my hands. She was quite tall, again this made me feel small and insignificant.
After washing my hands, I moved to the dryer but she spoke to me, “You have to be Jenna,” she said, her voice was a pleasant, calm sound. I had expected it to be screechy and high pitched but it was quite low. Throaty almost.
She placed her lipstick back in her clutch bag as I turned to fully give her my attention with my still-wet hands.
“Yes,” I whispered, hating the fact that my face was blotchy.
Her questioning eyes roamed over my features, missing nothing and then she smiled. It was a kind smile.
“I’m Scarlet. You’ve been crying,” she pointed out with a hint of sympathy.
I shrugged, not really knowing what to say and drew in a scratchy breath.
She was watching me with a granite-hard stare, “He isn’t worth it you know.”
Her words caused me to sink my teeth into my lip before I managed to say, “Sorry?”
“ None of the McKenna boys are worth a girl's tears.” She was very glamorous, her face perfectly made up and I imagined her to be a beautician or something.
My brow scrunched and I felt extremely uncomfortable as my chest started to thud in alarm. I was very aware of my no-make-up face as my eyes fell on her red lips. No doubt replacing the part Nixon had snogged off.
Scarlet carried on watching me in brooding silence, almost assessing me. It was strange for a woman to be looking at me with such scrutiny. I was used to boys doing that but not girls.
“You really are stunning you know. What they say about you is true. And to think I thought it was just a load of over-the-top bollocks. You really are gorgeous . Exquisite.”
Although she sounded genuine, I still felt embarrassed and awkward, “I don’t know what you mean. ”
“Come on, sure you do. You must know what they say about you in the village. Jenna Taylor-Joy, the beauty of Norfolk.”
“I don’t listen to village gossip really,” I replied, shooting her an uncertain look.
“Well, you should. It’s extremely complimentary and yet you appear to be lacking in confidence.” She laughed before adding, “My God, if I looked like you, I’d have all the men doing whatever the fuck I told them to do.”
Pursing my lips, I responded, “I’m just me. Nothing special really.”
She snorted but it wasn’t unpleasant, “Bullshit. You’re probably the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, and I mean that.”
I dashed a hand across my face, and my cheeks suddenly felt warm, “Well, thank you I guess, that’s really nice of you to say so.”
Her eyes narrowed then and she shuffled on her feet, “I’m not surprised he’s so whipped by you.”
My brow creased. Part of me knew she meant Nixon but I needed to hear her say it, “Who is?”
She raised her perfectly tweezed brows, “Nixon.” She answered in a voice which suggested she knew I’d known who she meant.
Rolling my eyes, I replied in an incredulous voice, “Nixon, whipped by me ? I don’t think so.”
She wrinkled her nose, “He’s totally obsessed with you.”
Now the words sat between us, and I was even more puzzled, “But isn’t he your boyfriend?” I must have physically squirmed before her. Talk about the shame.
She flicked an invisible piece of lint from her dress, “No, he’s not my boyfriend. We did date in the past, but I realised that I care too much about my sanity to stay in that thankless role. Now we have a different arrangement.”
“What type of arrangement?” The question was out before I could stop it .
“Friends with benefits,” she replied with a wince. It was like she was being honest but attempted to soften the blow. She must have realised how much I liked Nixon. She’d seen how I’d raced away from their table and then witnessed my blotchy, so-obviously-been-crying face. She’d also heard our exchange by the bar. Most women were intuitive. Not me of course, I was always way behind where signals were concerned.
I wasn’t totally stupid though. I knew that friends with benefits meant they were sleeping together. Fuck buddies, my friend Charles crudely called it.
Needing to shut the conversation down, I said, “I see. Well, it was nice to meet you, but I need to get back to work.”
She took a sidestep to block my path to the door, “Bullshit again. I dare say meeting me has ruined your night, but you need not let it. Now that I’ve seen you and the level of distress he’s causing, I’ll be calling it quits.”
My brow threaded, “Why would you do that?”
She took a deep breath, briefly looking up and down my body, “I look after members of my own sex. We, girls, have got to stick together. Nixon and I use each other and there have never been any lies between us. It’s just sex, a simple way of getting off.”
“Great,” I said sadly, the pain in my voice apparent. I knew she didn’t mean to but the knife was still being twisted.
She sighed and looked at me like she was talking to a moron, “And that’s it right there you see. Now that I can see you’re in love with him. There is no way I will allow him to use me to torture you. It’s just not going to happen. It’s against my code. Nixon cares about you but he doesn’t know how to deal with that level of emotion. It’s textbook stuff. I see it in court all the time. He uses harsh treatment to push people away.” I wasn’t sure what she meant by the ‘in court’ line. Did they play tennis?
My mouth opened in a fish-like motion, but no words left my throat. Everything felt dry. Were my feelings for him as extreme as that? Was I in love with Nixon? We hardly knew each other. Yes, I was infatuated but love? Part of me knew she was probably right.
Scarlet started fluffing her hair, preparing herself to leave.
Her parting words would be with me all night.
“Nixon is a complicated man . All the McKenna boys have their stories. The eldest one’s story is, however, much darker than the rest. He suffered badly during his last tour and it made him more twisted than he was before he left. He has scars both physically and mentally. You need to remember that.”
I opened my mouth again to speak but she silenced me with her hand. “What he’s been through isn’t my story to tell though and so you’ll need to hear it from him. But know this. As fucked up as he is, especially when it comes to relationships. There is a good man in there, one that so needs to love and be loved. You need to be strong and patient enough to find him.”
Her words were still painful and I wanted to demand she tell me what happened to him on that last tour in the army. I stopped myself and pointed out, “In that case, I’m probably not the person to do that. I’m not a strong person, not at all.” I felt annoyed that this woman appeared to have successfully penetrated Nixon’s protective shell whilst I had been locked out.
She smiled and her entire face lit up. She really was quite stunning, “You’re stronger than you think Jenna and you have more power than you realise.”
I watched her, feeling thoroughly confused as she opened her clutch bag and gave me a small business card.
SCARLET SUMMERS – Lawyer. My goodness, the girl was a lawyer? I would never have pictured her as that. That whole ‘do not judge a book by its cover’ swam through my thoughts.
I took the card. Her smile was a true gift as girls around my age never looked at me like that. Their expressions were always so guarded as if they expected me to be a mean girl .
“Give me a call sometime. Maybe we could go for coffee, I could give you some tips,” she said with another grin. I wasn’t sure what type of tips she was referring to. Did I even want to know?
“I’d like that, although maybe save the tips,” I responded, still feeling floundered but appreciating the offer. To go for coffee with a girlfriend sounded great. My only friend was Charles.
Scarlet turned to leave and I quickly said, “Do you really think he cares about me in some way?”
Her back was facing me and her hand was placed against the door. She turned her head sideways but didn’t look back, “I know he does.”
I stepped forward as she pushed the door open, her last comment hitting me full-on in the stomach.
“How?”
There was a beat of silence, almost like she was weighing up whether to tell me, “He talks about you in his sleep.”
And BOOM! The door swinging shut behind her mirrored that thump of adrenaline that exploded through my chest.
Nixon talked about me during his sleep? What the heck?
Releasing a slow breath that I hadn’t realised I’d been holding, I turned back to the mirror and looked at my face in the glass. Searching for this special thing that everyone else but me saw. I knew I wasn’t ugly and had been graced with a nice enough face but I just didn’t see what all the fuss was about. Amy said that made me even more appealing.
Shelving the chaos that had been created by that conversation, I smoothed my hair down and straightened my clothes. The music outside the room had turned to the slow-dancing type they played before the end of the evening.
As I left the bathroom, a firm hand on my elbow halted me and I was swung around. My hair swished from the force as I looked up, wide-eyed into the furious expression on Nixon’s McKenna’s face .
“A word please,” Nixon said gruffly, his deep voice laced with annoyance. Where the hell did he get off being annoyed?
My heart was drumming against my ribcage as he started to roughly lead me down the length of the dance floor and in between the dotted couples. I almost tripped on my heels in order to keep up with his imposing pace. It was laughable at how easily he subdued me.
He ushered me through the French doors to the patio area which was still lit with fairly lights. There was a couple out there smoking and still gripping my arm, Nixon snapped, “If you wouldn’t mind,” with a flick of his head, motioning for them to leave. They both snapped to attention, stubbed out their cigarettes and disappeared into the function room, leaving us alone.
It was chilly outside, the trees around us rustling in the breeze. You could smell cigarette smoke.
Nixon’s fingers briefly tightened on my arm as he glared down at me before releasing it and moving to close the patio doors, reducing the noise from the disco.
He then stalked back toward me, taking in my confused face. I realised my heels gave me a bit more height but the man still towered over me. I didn’t come anywhere near his eye level. I bent my neck in order to see him clearly and attempted to guess why he had dragged me out there.
Folding his strong arms over his chest, he showered me with an interrogating expression.
“Well?” His one-word question shot out of his mouth like a bullet. God his mood swings were off the chart.
I shook my head, feeling thoroughly astounded as to why he had grabbed me and why he was so angry. Shouldn’t I be the one to be cross after he waved his date or should I say his lover in my face?
“Well, what?” I replied, my voice quivering. Why couldn’t I generate some of that strength Scarlet suggested I had or that power she’d alluded to? I imagined she meant the power of my looks. It was ridiculous really as I felt my weakest when standing in front of this man. The air was so thick surrounding us that it felt like there were hands wrapped around my throat.
“After you stormed off and had a tantrum. What the hell did you say to Scarlet?” Nixon growled with a restless edge.
Tantrum? What the heck?
“I didn’t say anything to her?” I shot back, frowning so hard my forehead hurt.
Nixon quirked his head to the side before he drilled further, “So, you didn’t have a conversation with her in the fucking bathroom?” His breath was slightly sweet with a tinge of whisky. His general scent was subtle and yet still overwhelmed me at the same time.
“Well, yes. I did. We bumped into each other in there.” I wasn’t sure what Scarlet had said to him but he obviously knew we’d spoken. I realised that I hadn’t seen her at their table when he’d dragged me past there. Had she left?
Nixon’s deep eyes probed mine, searching for an answer to his intolerable line of questions.
He lowered his head slightly, “And what did you say to her?”
I felt sick to the stomach, I wasn’t a liar but there was no way I could tell him we’d been talking about him. Was it lying to leave stuff out?
Pushing back a lock of hair that had fallen from my top knot, I responded, “She spoke to me first. She explained that she’d heard stuff about me and then she said nice things about how I looked.” I did an odd thing with my hand, almost gesticulating.
“ Did she,” he said, his gaze now hooded. I noticed how it kept flicking toward my mouth.
His questioning seemed intrusive and I didn’t like it, “Yes. She was nice, full of compliments. ”
“I can’t imagine Scarlet being complimentary to any female. Especially one so pathetically interested in me.” As usual, he was arrogant beyond belief. I ignored that comment and continued along the same theme.
“Well, she was. She was being kind.”
He snorted and uncrossed his arms to pinch the bridge of his nose, his eyes closing briefly.
“So, it appears you can work your magic on both sexes.”
These words forced my voice up into the next gear as I snapped, “I wasn’t working any magic, Nixon. I was just being myself.” I was tired of being misunderstood, especially by this boy.
He was standing so close, that every cell in my body was aware of his.
Opening his eyes and dropping his hands to his sides he shot out, “Whatever. Bottom line, you just cost me a night of sex,” Nixon retorted in a tone that suggested he believed I’d wrecked his entire evening.
I already knew they were lovers but it still hurt, “What do you mean? Not that it’s any of my business.” I added the last part.
Nixon’s eyes widened, “You’re right about that, but after your little chat, Scarlet just ended things with me.” If he was upset, as in really upset, like some girls were when they got dumped, he didn’t show it. He just sounded miffed that he wouldn’t be ‘getting his end away’ that night (my sister's words not mine).
I pointed out, “She said she wasn’t your girlfriend.”
He nodded, viewing me down that strong nose of his, “And she told the truth. She wasn’t. But we had an arrangement.”
“Yes, I heard about that. But I’m not sure what that’s got to do with me,”
Nixon placed his hands on his hips and glared at me, “Well, maybe as you were the one to push her into making such a rash decision. Maybe you should take her place tonight,” Nixon said in his stomach-tilting drawl. The way he was looking at me changed as sexual energy started to pour from his body .
I inhaled so quickly that it took all the moisture from my throat, “What?” I squeaked.
His muscles were bulging beneath the rolled-up shirt sleeves, “You’re not that fucking stupid Jenna.” His tone was biting.
Drawing in a steady breath, I asked, “Are you asking me to have sex with you?”
Nixon shrugged those powerful shoulders and I wasn’t sure whether to feel excited or disgusted. He just wanted a replacement at the end of the day, not me.
“What if I were? What would your answer be?” he purred, his tone now smoky and suggestive. That element of anger had vanished, wiped away by the possibility of sex. Of Nixon getting what he wanted.
My body stiffened with rigid tension, “I’d say you must be drunk.”
Nixon’s mouth curled, “Oh, I’ve had a few, but I’m far from drunk. I won’t have a problem performing if that’s your worry.” My hands itched by my sides and my fingers curled into fists.
“That isn’t my worry at all Nixon. I’m not going to have sex with you just because you lost your date tonight.” I felt proud of myself as I delivered those words. Gone was the usual pushover.
Nixon’s gaze was suddenly full of mysterious shadows, “Maybe I should force the issue,” he stated in a firm, dangerous voice. Threat underlining each word, I saw through it of course. If there was one thing this boy was good at, it was making threats.
I chewed the inside of my cheek before saying, “You wouldn’t do that.”
Nixon’s smile became wolfish, unfolding his arms, before grabbing me by my elbows, pulling me toward him, and getting in my face.
“Are you sure about that sunshine?” his grip was hard, those fingers digging into my skin but I didn’t struggle. I looked up at him through my lashes. All the hairs on my skin were standing to attention. A crazy feeling of lust was pumping into my lower body. His threat of force was sexy to me even though I knew he wouldn’t really hurt me that way.
I then decided to bite the bullet, “You’ve come back from the army a very confused man I would say. Complicated and twisted, almost like you are two people in the same body. A split personality. One minute you make me think you want me, need me even. The next it’s like you hate me and can’t even look at me.” I paused but he didn’t interrupt me, he just stood there drinking in everything I was saying, “I don’t understand you or your behaviour but I know I don’t have the strength…” Those last words were almost vapour as they left my mouth. I almost couldn’t bring myself to admit it, confess he was my weakness. But, so what, I knew he already knew it.
Nixon prompted me impatiently, “To what? You don’t have the strength to put up with me or my shit? Is that what you’re saying?”
I sighed, “No. I don’t have the strength to say away from you.”
He released my arms and stepped back, suddenly looking deflated, tired almost.
“But you won’t sleep with me?”
“No, not like this. Not under those circumstances,” I panted, looking up at him with incredulous eyes. “I do have some self-respect.”
He sighed, “Well maybe that’s all I have to offer. As I said before, I’m not boyfriend material.”
I thought about what Scalet said about Nixon talking about me in his sleep before saying in a firm voice, “People change when they’re with the right person Nixon. But maybe you’ll never learn that. Keep treating me like this and pushing me away. One day, you’ll succeed.” I then tugged out of his arms and pushed past him, dragging the doors into the building open.
I shot him one last glance over my shoulder, noting how his shoulders were drooped and that he hadn’t turned to watch me leave. He just stood there staring down at the concrete and I felt my heart swell in my chest .
I didn’t see him after that or his brother. I helped finish tidying up before setting off to meet my brother in the car park.
Mattie picked me up and on the short drive home, I sat in silence and replayed my entire conversation with Scarlet in my head. Her revelations rolled back and forth, giving me strength; giving me hope.
But one thing I was certain about. It was Nixon’s turn to come to me. I ignored that spike in my bloodstream. I would not allow my lustful obsession to consume me and continue to behave like a fool. I would not allow him to break me.
That strength Scarlet mentioned surged forward. I would be no man’s fool and was done being toyed with.
It was time to play hard to get.