Chapter 17 #2
Self-poured, or rather Shelley and Dan poured, measures are dangerous.
Drink four has been pushed in front of me and they’re already clouding my head.
Emily and Harry have turned up and, after telling me again how I must drag Gregory out for drinks ‘just one time ever,’ they work the room, happily socialising with the wealthy cohort.
‘I need to slow down,’ I say to Amanda as I wince through my first mouthful of the strongest mix yet.
She’s fiddling with her phone as she mumbles her agreement.
‘Is everything okay? You’ve hardly touched your drink.’
‘I’m just pacing myself,’ she says, putting her glass to her lips but taking the smallest sip.
‘Okay, who are you and what have you done with my best friend?’ I nudge into her shoulder and receive a dim smile in return.
‘It’s nothing. Really. I’m just feeling a little green. I thought I’d be fine after one or two drinks but this is my first and I just have no fancy for it.’ She leans into the booth and nudges her glass away. ‘Let’s dance!’
It must be the four lethal gins because I feel like I can actually dance. I lift my arms above my head as I move in time to David Guetta’s beat.
‘I love this tune!’ Amanda yells, suddenly revived.
My waist is attacked by two man-arms.
‘Shots!’ Luke screams into my ear. He drags me backwards to the bar where a row of six tequila shots is being poured.
The barman sets a slice of lemon across each glass then dishes out three salt shakers.
Amanda goes first, licking the side of her hand and tipping salt on top.
Nothing stands in the way of Amanda and tequila.
For me, on the other hand, this is a bad idea.
Beyond bad. Tequila and I go together like pink and green, oil on a fire, tomato juice and a white shirt.
The ending is predictable. Option one is wasted.
Option two is sick. Option three is a combination of one and two. And there isn’t an option four.
But I haven’t been out for a while.
‘God help me,’ I say, licking my hand, pouring over salt and clinking my shot glass with Amanda’s and Luke’s.
‘Cheers!’
The salt bites in such a way that I actually want to chase it with tequila but… good Lord, that stuff is vile. I dig my teeth into the slice of lemon and suck as hard as I can, my head shaking, my feet stomping against the floor.
‘Yeah, like old times,’ Luke says, slamming his empty shot glass onto the bar with a satisfied slurp. ‘Next!’
‘I couldn’t do it. The smell is making me queasy! How do we drink that stuff?’ Luke and I both dart our heads to look at Amanda, who’s holding her full glass of tequila mid-air.
‘Since when did you become a prude?’ Luke asks.
‘I just can’t. You have it.’
He shrugs, takes the glass from Amanda and rearranges the row of glasses on the bar so that he and I each have two left.
‘Luke, I can’t. I’ll be ill. I’m already drunk.’
‘Nonsense, Scarlett, we used to drink more than this on a weeknight at uni. Man up!’ Luke says with a wink, the irony of his statement not lost on either of us. He presses a shot glass into my hand as Amanda lines up the camera on her phone.
‘Cheers!’
‘Oh, crap,’ I mutter, just before I lick the salt, neck the shot and suck hard on my second slice of lemon. ‘Oh it hurts!’ My feet stomp again and I shake my head, which only adds to the increasing fogginess in my mind.
‘Last one,’ Luke sings, seemingly unaffected.
‘Luke, I can’t!’ I protest, rubbing my chest as if it might quell the burning sensation.
‘Pipe down, Scarlett, it’s only one.’
‘One that’ll have me running to the toilet.’
Amanda flashes her camera at us again as we carry out the same procedure and my feet stomp on the floor a third time.
‘All right. I’m going on the prowl,’ Luke announces, without even so much as a flinch from his final hit of tequila. ‘Coming?’
‘No, thanks. I’m going to go and find my sea legs,’ I say, conscious that I’m having to concentrate too hard on putting one foot in front of the other as I walk back to the booth.
‘Are you going to vomit?’ Amanda asks, eyeing me cautiously as she slips into the booth beside me.
‘No.’ I laugh. ‘I just need a minute.’
‘You sure? I know what you’re like with tequila.’
‘Yet you still inflicted an extra shot on me?’ I raise a playful brow and she giggles with a shrug.
‘I thought it would be good for you. You seem… less… well, happy tonight.’
‘Oh, Amanda, please don’t start. I am happy. There’s a lot of stuff going on but I’m not unhappy with Gregory and I know where you’re going with this.’
She turns to face me, lifting her knees sideways onto the leather seat. ‘Just hear me out.’
My fingers locate a glass, mine or someone else’s, and turn it in circles until my head decides it’s too dizzy to watch anything rotate. A sudden need to swallow comes over me, then my stomach settles again.
‘I can see what he has to offer. He’s attractive, anyone can see that. He’s wealthy. He’s obviously smart to have gotten to where he is.’
I lift my head and find two sympathetic eyes looking back at me as she rests her head against the back of the booth, her auburn hair falling across her shoulders.
‘But?’
‘But, he’s not right for you, Scarlett.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘I know you. You’re one of the nicest people I know, probably will ever know. You never do or say anything wrong, Scarlett, and suddenly he comes on the scene and—’
‘And what?’ My words reflect the sharp bout of anger I’m feeling. She’s got a matter of seconds before I refuse to listen to any more.
‘I don’t trust him. I don’t trust him and I don’t like what he’s doing to you.’
I stand, shuffling awkwardly around the table to escape the booth. I’m not listening to this and I’m not starting a fight with my best friend over it either.
‘He’s dark, Scarlett. He’s cagey.’
I turn on my heels, fighting against unsteadiness to face her. ‘Why don’t you just spit out what you’re trying to say, Amanda?’
‘Do you know why he really killed Kevin Pearson? You just accept that his father came after him, tried to kill him for no reason and Gregory shot him.’ She stands now and braces herself on the table with two hands. ‘Not just shot him, Scarlett, shot him at point-blank range. Cold-blooded murder.’
‘Shut up. Shut up!’ Tears spring to the back of my eyes and the words are on the tip of my tongue.
I want to tell her. I want to tell everyone that Gregory is a good man and I am the cold-blooded killer.
And that I know why I did it. I might not know everything, not yet, but what I do know is I shot Kevin Pearson because otherwise, Gregory would be dead.
The room begins to sway with the mix of tequila, fighting with Amanda and the crashing home of the stark reality that I’m a killer.
I’m no longer ordinary Scarlett Heath who plays by the rules.
I killed another human being and I’m letting the man I love with every single cell in my body take the blame.
A man who can’t tell me he’s fallen for me too.
A man who despises himself so much, he wants to be punished for my crime.
My chest is suddenly tight and painful as I try to take a breath in.
I slap a hand against my chest in an attempt to ease the pain. I need air.
Pushing through the full room of people, I make my way to the exit.
At the staircase, I hear her calling my name and find enough strength to stop and tell her not to follow me.
I watch my blurred feet take the staircase as cautiously as my murky mind, breathless body and unsteady legs will allow.
Downstairs, I find the smokers’ area outside and push my back against the cold brick wall, my lungs finally filling with air.
Without thinking, I dial his number and as I wait for him to pick up, the tears fall and sobs burst from my chest, relieving the pressure.
‘Are you ready, baby?’
I try to speak but I can’t. I hold the phone to my ear, willing myself to gain some composure but it won’t happen. I’m sobbing uncontrollably, the eyes of smokers on me as I slump to the ground on my hunkers.
‘Scarlett? Scarlett, what’s happened? Where are you?’
The words leave my mouth in chokes, breaking through my tears. ‘I don’t know who I am any more.’
‘Baby, please, where are you? What’s happened?’
‘Nothing. I’m fine.’
‘You don’t sound fucking fine, Scarlett. Has someone hurt you? Where are you?’
‘No. No one’s hurt me.’ I press my finger and thumb into the corners of my eyes to stop the tears but it works only momentarily, then another sob breaks the silence. No one except you, Gregory. ‘I don’t know what to do.’
‘I’m coming to get you. Where are you?’
‘I’m at the same place you dropped me off.’
I can hear him moving quickly and I hear the rustle of keys, then the bang of a door.
‘Are there people around you?’ His voice is stricken with panic.
‘Yes. I’m okay. I’m in the smokers’ shelter outside.’ I sniffle back another onset of tears.
‘I’m getting in the car, baby. I’ll put you on speaker. Stay on the line for me. Can you do that?’
‘Yes. Gregory, people think you’re… that you’re a bad person, that you’re bad for me.
I can’t stand it. I can’t stand that people think badly of you because of me and what I did.
How can I do that to you?’ The sobs come back again with a vengeance.
I press my face into my hand to mask myself from onlookers.
‘I don’t care what other people think, Scarlett. I only care what you think.’ I hear a horn sound down the phone. He must be driving like a man with rage. ‘Do you think I’m a bad person?’
‘No. But I think… I don’t know what I think.’ Pressing my fingers to my lips, I look to the roof of the outdoor canopy.
‘Scarlett? Are you there?’
‘Yes. I’m here.’
‘Keep talking to me, angel. I’m almost there.’
‘I think we’re bad for each other, Gregory. People should be together because they bring out the best in each other, shouldn’t they?’
‘You do bring out the best in me, Scarlett. You make me feel like a decent person. I’ve never felt like a decent person before. You give me more purpose than anything else in my life.’
My eyes fills again and now I don’t know if it’s because I want to hold him and tell him that I understand the pain he locks away – at least I want to understand – or if it’s frustration because I’m so utterly and completely lost.
‘I make people think badly of you, Gregory. I make you angry. I make you do things you shouldn’t have to do.
And you make me— I just don’t know how I got here.
I don’t know who I was or who I am any more.
I’m outside a bar in Chelsea crying and wasted.
Since when do I behave like this? I… I don’t know anything any more. ’
‘You know you love me.’ His words are calm and quiet. A test.
‘I do love you, Gregory. But I don’t know who you are either because you won’t let me in.’
‘You do know me, Scarlett. You do.’ The panic is back in his voice, despite knowing I’m safe. ‘No one has ever known me like you, understood me when I can’t say the things I think and feel. No one has ever come close to breaking down my walls. Only you, baby.’
‘You say these things and it makes me think— Gregory, I don’t even know if you love me.’
I pause, waiting, but he doesn’t say a word. His heavy breath comes down the line and my heart aches in my chest.
‘How can you do and say things like I’m yours and I’m your purpose and not know if you love me?’
His silence gives me the obvious answer.
He tells me what I need to hear for now, until this whole mess is over.
He wants me to be able to move on. That’s why the police: so when we’re over, I’ll be able to accept his plea of self-defence as my own, if it works.
He doesn’t want me. I won’t keep waiting, humiliating myself.
He’s been forced to stay with me and that’s not what I want.
‘Gregory?’
‘Yes.’
I take a deep breath, my shoulders chugging back against the cold brick wall. ‘I’ve been asked to move to Dubai with work. For six months. On secondment.’
Silence.
‘I’m going to go, Gregory. I’m going to go to Dubai. So if you love me, tell me now.’
‘Scarlett!’ Amanda shouts as she lands in front of my face, making me drop my phone. ‘I was looking for you. Ed’s come to pick me up. We’ll drop you home.’
I shake my head and press the heel of my hand against my brow as it begins to throb. I look up and try to focus on Amanda but she just won’t stand still.
‘Oh, God, Scarlett, are you going to be sick?’
I nod my head then somehow stand and take two steps towards the corner and throw up. I heave as it just keeps coming.
‘Scarlett, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for us to fight,’ Amanda says as she holds my hair back.
Then my legs give way and I’m being lifted through the smoking area, back inside and along the corridor to the front of the bar.
‘I’ll get the door,’ Amanda says.
‘I’ve got it,’ Gregory snaps. He opens the door, still holding me against his chest, then sits me down into the passenger seat of his Lamborghini and buckles me in.
‘Look after her.’ I can’t open my eyes but I know if I could, Gregory would be glaring at Amanda. ‘I don’t like you, Gregory; you’ve broken her. But I want my best friend back and it seems like you’re the only person who can fix her.’
The car door is closed and I lean my head against the cold window before the driver door is opened and shut and the car is moving.