Chapter 48
Forty-Eight
W here are they? Where are they? Goddammit!
The next morning found me sitting on the bedroom floor, rifling through my bag with the grace of a crazy cat lady.
This can not be happening.
I sighed. There was nothing for it. Resigned to the clean up, I tipped up my bag, spilling the contents onto the floor.
Purse. Phone. Keys. A pair of denim shorts.
A toy dinosaur. But no Kitty Cat Coin Purse.
Where the hell was my kitty cat coin purse?
I know I left it here. Out of all the things I was irresponsible about, this wasn’t one of them.
I heard footsteps, and a second later a pair of Armani loafers appeared under my nose.
“Amusing yourself, baby?” I looked up to see Alfie looking unreasonably attractive considering my own dishevelled state.
“No. I can’t find my pills. I put them in my kitty cat coin purse in the inside zip pocket of my bag.
I never keep them anywhere else and they’re not here.
The whole purse is gone.” I looked back at the upturned chaos of my bag, half-expecting them to reappear as if it was all some sort of trick. A very unfunny trick.
“Your kitty cat coin purse?” he repeated, an obvious tone of mockery in his voice.
"It's not funny, Alfie. I would've thought you'd be more concerned. You haven't exactly been Mr Chill when it comes to my birth control." I arched an eyebrow at him but he just gave me a small shrug.
"I trust you with that now." As I tried to grasp the enormity of that statement, he frowned down at his watch.
"We need to go, Lola." The weekend was over and Monday morning had come, along with the rest of the real world.
I groaned and scooped up the mess, depositing it unceremoniously back into my handbag.
I made a mental note to call my doctor for a new birth control prescription.
"Why do you have a toy dinosaur in your bag? "
“Ryan,” I answered as I moved to the mirror and began attempting to reign in my hair. It was getting too long but the thought of the tantrum Alfie would have if I cut it prevented me from doing so.
“Of course. By the way, when do you plan on utilising the clothes I bought for you?” He nodded at the walk-in closet I’d avoided like the plague ever since he’d done what I explicitly asked him not to do and bought me a whole wardrobe.
Well, actually I didn’t know if it was a whole wardrobe or not, seeing as I hadn’t actually looked at the clothes yet.
I figured they were an argument waiting to happen and if I didn’t look at them, they didn’t exist. Lola Logic.
“I’d actually forgotten about them,” I lied. I ran the brush through my hair for a final time then left it alone to hang in long, loose waves.
“Well, seeing as you don’t have any other clothes here?—”
“Au Contraire.” I dipped my hand into my bag again. I held up the old denim shorts that had fallen out of my bag with the rest of my crap.
“You can’t be serious. The fabric is worn and the stitching is loose.”
“They’re comfy, though.” I tugged them on and grinned, even doing a little wriggle to show just how comfy they were.
My ballet pumps followed next, my bra, and then one of his t-shirts.
I rolled the sleeves over so they sat on my shoulders then bit the neck of the shirt and tore it so that I had a little cleavage.
The dress I’d worn on Friday had reappeared in Alfie’s closet at some point over the weekend, miraculously laundered by some very kind maids.
It felt weird to me but it was something I’d have to get used to if I decided to leave with Alfie.
I paused, a thought suddenly occurring to me. The maids. Maybe they had something to do with my pills going missing. Maybe I’d left them on a counter top or they’d fallen out of my bag and they’d been mistaken for trash? Or put away in a cabinet somewhere? That must be it.
I did a mental calculation as I applied some make-up and studiously ignored Alfie’s watchful gaze.
I took my pill every morning, and the last time I took it was yesterday after we were done with our shower.
We had sex in the afternoon…and last night…
and this morning...but no pill today, so was I covered still?
“Hey.” Alfie was suddenly in front of me, his fingers gently freeing my bottom lip from my teeth. I hadn’t even noticed I’d been gnawing on it. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m just worried about missing a pill that’s all.” I smiled. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll call my doctor. Hopefully they can see me today.”
“And if they can’t?”
I was tempted to say that he could just illegally procure some pills for me like he’d done the first time we slept together, but I wasn’t about to let him think I was okay with that.
I side stepped him to give myself a final look in the mirror. We looked so peculiar next to one another. He in his bespoke suit, I in my ripped shorts. It was no wonder people gave us strange looks.
“If they can’t see me today, then I guess Wally will just have to wear a rain-hat for a while.” I eyed his crotch. He scowled back at me.
“I hate condoms, Lola.”
I shrugged again and swung my bag onto my shoulder. “I hate pregnancy.” I smiled as his soft chuckle followed me out of the room.
I didn’t waste a moment and immediately called my GP to book an appointment. By the time we stepped out of the Carlton Hotel and into the sunshine, I could breathe a sigh of relief knowing that I’d be getting a new prescription that afternoon.
It was warm today, warmer than it had been for months.
The cold and rain stretched on for so long in England that sometimes I wondered if summer had forgotten about our little island.
Then, one day, the sun would come and you’d marvel that our skies could ever be grey and the air ever foggy.
The feeling began to return to your fingertips, and you would relish wearing only one pair of socks instead of two and being able to leave the house without an umbrella. It was a marvellously free feeling.
I turned my face up to the sun and it kissed me, whispering to me that new life was coming.
Everywhere, plants would be reawakening, springing to life.
Fresh shoots, buds and roots, starting all over again, or starting for the first time.
It reminded me of my mum. The plants kept her memory alive and I loved them for it.
My sunny mood darkened a little as Alfie’s new car pulled into view, the valet behind the wheel looking happy as a clam.
Even though I now knew it had just been a test, I still hated the sight of it.
It taunted me with its newness, its very existence a reminder that Alfie’s interest could shift at the drop of a hat.
He pressed a button and Vivaldi filled the car. I settled back into my seat, relaxing under the gentle caresses of the violin.
This morning, I had woken up on edge and it wasn’t until Alfie’s alarm went off that I realised what the problem was.
Alfie had agreed, by some miracle, to allow me to make this decision on my own, but one thing was clear—whether I went with him or I followed my dream to London, my time at Rosie’s was over.
The thought had tears welling in my eyes.
What would I tell her? Could I tell her about college? I definitely couldn’t tell her about Alfie.
I was so consumed by the impending guilt that would come today that I barely noticed Alfie turning the music down.
“What is it, Lola?” He glanced at me as he drove. Keeping any thoughts to myself around him was practically impossible. It was like he was wired into my body, my mind. If there was the slightest change in me he was instantly alert.
“It’s nothing, I was just in my thoughts.” I wanted to tell him the truth, but, as with anything linked to whether or not I would leave with him, I couldn’t trust him with it. I would tell him later, after it was done.
“Share them.” My brain scrambled for something to say other than the truth. I jumped on the first thing that came to me.
“What happened to the Never Tell parties?” He stiffened, probably wondering if I was going to ask for details of his debauchery, but he needn’t have worried. I didn’t want those images in my head. “Do they still happen, I mean?” I amended and he relaxed a little. Good. We were on safe ground.
“Yes, I believe so.” He brought us to a slow stop at a red light.
“You believe so? Why do I get the feeling you’re omitting a whole lot of information there?”
He caught my eye and gave me a small smile.
I was reassured to see it. He stared back out the window, his brows knitting together as he figured out how much to tell me.
When most people were on the spot, they showed it.
They fidgeted, drummed their fingers, tapped their foot, but not Alfie.
Alfie went as still as a statue. The light turned green and we were off again.
“Yes, they still happen, though they’re very discreet. I haven’t attended a Never Tell event in ten years. I still own part of the company, of course, although I sold most of the shares to my friends?—”
“Your Tellers?” I’d learnt that name from the article I’d first read about him. ‘Tellers’ was the name he’d given to a very select group of friends, his fellow debauchees. I had no doubt that they knew everything there was to know about Alfie during that time.
“Yes. One of them bought the majority and he runs it now. He kept the name for obvious reasons.” Obvious reasons being that, after all of these years, Alfie’s name still carried certain connotations. I wanted to know where Riley fit into all of this. Had he been a Teller?
“So, which of your Tellers bought it?”
“Damien Marx. Before you get any ideas, don’t bother Googling the club. You won’t find anything. No website, no social media.”
“What? Why?”