CHAPTER THREE #4
‘I enjoy them on long train journeys. Did you know, historically, women who kill like to use poison?’
He expected her to be bored by that titbit. Instead, she said, ‘Of course. Men like the ejaculation of a gunshot or the intimate penetration of a knife; women want the slow and creeping little death. All-encompassing. It was ever thus.’
Who are you?
Tom fought to keep his composure as they continued to sway to the music.
‘Joke’s on us,’ he said. ‘The fans aren’t supporting murder; they’re prepping for it. They’ll know the signs and the red flags from all their research, and you and I won’t.’
‘I don’t know,’ Raina murmured, raising herself up a little so she could whisper in his ear. ‘I’m very good at spotting a bad guy.’
A crack of electricity pulsed through Tom and he felt an aching pang. His hands tightened on her waist, a completely unconscious gesture.
She laughed softly, and a little knowingly.
Tom cleared his throat again. ‘Are you and Miss Cousins old schoolfriends?’
Raina grimaced, glancing back at Pepper who was still networking by their table. ‘Not exactly.’
He caught the faint scent of a story there, like the smell of a freshly blown-out candle, but he didn’t pry. ‘Where are you based in London?’
‘Definitely something a bad guy would ask,’ she said coolly, and he laughed.
‘General vicinity, then?’
‘Barnes.’
‘Lovely.’
‘Sometimes. You?’
‘Fulham.’
She gave a nod of acknowledgement, a London ritual completed.
‘You’re Scottish.’ It wasn’t a question.
‘Yeah, I am,’ Tom answered. ‘Been here ten years though.’
‘Why would you leave there? It’s so much friendlier.’
He was surprised by the comment. It was spoken with barely-there sadness. ‘Work.’
He could see her eyes scanning the room, potentially looking for something or someone more interesting, and he became frustrated with himself. He was usually more charming than this.
Just not normally as distracted.
‘You smell incredible.’
He said the words without meaning to and his expression must have said so because Raina smiled gently. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’
‘So do you, by the way. Like neroli. It’s gorgeous.’
He wanted everyone else in the room to disappear. She was infuriatingly blasé, and something about her made his hackles rise, but she was also a little intoxicating. ‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah. Most people overdo it with the aftershave these days, but not you. You’re a perfect blend.’
He gently ran his knuckles along the small of her back. ‘No one would ever mistake me for perfection.’
‘And you’re a good dancer,’ she told him.
‘Nah, you’re just making me look it,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘Amazing what a stunning woman can do.’
He wasn’t trying to be flirtatious – it was just a fact. But for the first time since their meeting, she looked appreciatively at him. It gave him a small burst of courage.
‘You’re bored stiff at this party, aren’t you?’ he asked quietly.
Her eyes widened but there was a hint of a devious smile. Like they were both sharing a secret. ‘No. Why would you think that?’
It didn’t sound convincing. ‘I don’t know. You just seem too smart and too switched-on to be entertained by all of this. The fake smiles, the small talk. I think you’re probably too good for all of it.’
She moved a little closer. ‘You’re surprising, you know.’
He brushed a small tendril of hair away from her eyes. ‘I am?’
‘I’ve always heard you’re really difficult. But you’re not, are you? You’re just unapologetic.’
Her specific use of the word made him stop dancing. ‘Unapologetic?’
‘I appreciate people like that,’ she went on. ‘People who believe what they believe. Who don’t care about sucking up to others. Who don’t care about being liked.’
He swallowed. ‘I care about you liking me, Raina.’
They stared at each other for a moment, something unnameable passing between the two of them until the song suddenly ended and Raina removed her hands from his shoulders to applaud the band. Tom felt her absence immediately. He clapped as well, never taking his eyes from her.
‘I’d love to know more about your work,’ he said, a little desperately. He wished he knew her better, wished that he knew how to keep her with him.
She threw him a slightly withering look. ‘You would?’
She clearly wasn’t fooled by his clumsy attempts at prolonging their conversation.
‘It’s just . . .’ Tom battled to find the right words. ‘I heard you suffer with a disability yourself.’
You dick, why did you say it like that?
He wanted to take the words back at once; they’d come out all wrong. He watched as her face contorted in utter distaste. ‘I don’t suffer from anything, Mr Branimir. Not until this moment, at least. If you’ll excuse me.’
He grabbed her hand, instantly full of remorse. ‘Wait, I’m sorry. Sorry! I said something wrong. Neurodivergent, right? That’s the term. It’s so interesting because you look—’
‘Oh, come on now,’ she said icily, trying to snatch back her hand. ‘Don’t say “normal”. You really don’t want to get a drink thrown on you, not if that’s the only nice suit you own.’
She saw right through him. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to, especially in environments like this. It felt like a physical shove, one that threw him off balance and left him stumbling and scrambling.
‘I’m sorry I’ve offended you. That was stupid of me, I didn’t mean—’
‘Wait, I’ve got it,’ Raina said, laughing sunnily. ‘You think I’m a fake. All your conquests have been charlatans in one way or another, so you’re trying to see if I’m one as well.’
‘No. God, no! I—’
‘Because people like you expect disabled girls to look one of two ways – either very vulnerable, in a manner that makes you feel uncomfortable and afraid, or about to win the Bronze in the one-hundred-metre sprint on a prosthetic limb.’
‘That’s—’
‘Anything that falls outside of those two images sets off little sparks in your brain that say “fake”, “pretender”, “liar”. That autistic woman looks almost normal, she must be faking it for attention. She doesn’t look like that one image you’ve been fed since birth, therefore she cannot be telling the truth.
Come on now, Mr Branimir. You’re incredibly cute, and I like how big you are, but I don’t play this game any more.
The room is stuffed with rich people who don’t care if the ninety-nine below them disappear – maybe make that your story rather than me?
We’re more than inspirational athletes and Tiny Tim. ’
You’ve fucked this right up, Tom thought. If she didn’t like you before, she loathes you now.
Raina threw a glance back to her table. Pepper waved and pointed to the Cartier watch on her slender wrist.
‘I should go,’ she said peaceably. ‘It was nice to meet you, King of Cancel Culture. Sorry I’m not more of a royalist.’
She started to make her way towards Pepper, who was gathering their clutches and coat tickets, and Tom saw his wants slipping away.
Both of them. Professional and personal.
He wanted more of her. No one had ever seen him so clearly on a first meeting.
No one had ever matched him with such ease and candour.
Some men would find her dressing down a blow to their ego but he thought it hypnotic.
He squeezed her hand. ‘Can I see you again?’
Stay with me. Play with me. Use that brilliant brain on me.
She turned to regard him aloofly. ‘Why? Right now, I can’t think of anything worse.’
‘Because I want to.’
‘If you really want to find me, it won’t be hard. The London neurodiversity scene is small.’
He stared in bewilderment as she freed her hand from his and moved purposefully away from the dancefloor.
‘And if you don’t know anyone in those circles,’ she called back to him, ‘I don’t think you’re ready to know me, Your Majesty.’
She gave a mocking little salute and was gone. Tom stood motionless for a moment while new music started up around him. It was a slap on the shoulder from Seb that jolted him back into reality.
‘Who was she?’ bristled Ottie, appearing on his other side.
No one. Everything. Her. ‘Raina Lewis. A podcast host.’
‘Oh, that’s Raina Lewis?’ Ottie said Raina’s name as if it were some newly named disease. ‘I didn’t expect someone so preachy to dress that slutty.’
Tom’s jaw hardened at Ottie’s choice of words. ‘Shut up, Ottie. That’s gross.’
She pouted and looked to her boyfriend, silently demanding that he join her in belittling Raina’s appearance and character.
‘There’s something weird about her, isn’t there?’ she pushed.
‘There’s nothing weird about her,’ Tom said quietly.
‘Autism or something,’ Ottie continued. ‘Do you think she can do that thing from that film?’
‘What film?’ Seb slurred, turning to scowl at his girlfriend.
‘The one with David Hoffman.’
‘Dustin Hoffman,’ Tom corrected, but they both ignored him.
‘The toothpicks,’ Ottie said, giggling. ‘Think she can count them?’
Seb snorted as Tom’s face clouded with anger. ‘Welp. Want to get going, Tommy? I’ve got a case of Grey Goose back at the loft.’
Tom answered by heading for the exit. He jogged out onto the street, taking the stone steps of the old museum three at a time. He saw a car pulling away, the artificial lights of Kensington acting as urban stars in the dark spring night.
The sunroof of the car opened and Raina emerged, eyes closed in bliss as she spread her arms out and let the breeze blow her long hair back while the car moved away from him. She opened her eyes and caught his gaze.
Tom called out to her. ‘This unapologetic idiot apologizes to you!’
She laughed coldly, the sound catching on the wind. ‘Goodbye, Your Majesty!’
‘Tell me where to find you!’
She rolled her eyes and gave him a sarcastically queenly wave before sinking beneath the roof of the vehicle, disappearing from view.
Tom swore. And it was so strange. His intellect was wide awake because it had found a playmate. It was never as easy to arouse the mind, but his was completely stirred up.
The whole world had gone away.