Belle Pearl (10 page)

I stood there, remembering how it was
Laura
that had intensified Pearl’s fear of Sophie, with that crazy phone call getting us into this mess. My eyes were pools of ice as they locked with hers. “I’ve brought your books back, Laura. The hotel gift-wrapped the box by mistake so don’t get any grand ideas. I’m leaving now, I’m going to get my car.” I strode down the hall towards the garden, which led to the garage.

“Alex, wait!” Laura limped after me with her cane. “Why are you so pissed off? I thought we could have some tea and have a heart-to-heart.”

“Yeah, right, Laura. I’m really going to drink your tea, laced with some bloody drug. You behaved like a fucking psycho last time we met and what you did to Pearl was unforgiveable. Un-fucking-forgivable. You should go and get professional help—I’d offer to pay for a shrink but I don’t want to be involved with you in
any way, whatsoever
. Is the garage locked?”

“It’s unlocked,” she said sulkily, as if what I told her was a surprise. “You know where the buzzer is for the garage door and you still have your own keys, I suppose. Alex, don’t be a spoilsport—
come
on.”

I suddenly thought of something. “You didn’t give
Pearl
a cup of tea, did you?”

Laura smirked.

I grabbed her by the shoulders and found myself shaking her. I’d never hurt a woman in my life.
Jesus!
But the temptation to slap her was overwhelming. My heart was pounding, my breath unsteady. I stepped back, sucked in a calming lungful of air, let go of her, and said in a quiet voice, my teeth clenched, “Did you offer Pearl a cup of tea?” If I had been like Michael Corleone—as Pearl so often described me—I would have felt no qualms about having Laura eliminated. But I wasn’t. I respected a person’s life too much—God knows, I’d been responsible for enough deaths to see me well into the depths of Hell—I didn’t want another on my conscience. And however crazy Laura had become, we had shared something once. You can’t wipe away your past.

“Yes, I offered her tea,” but she quickly added, “she didn’t want any, though.”

I exhaled a sigh of relief, marched off, swung open the back door and raced towards the garage. My beautiful 1964 DB5 Aston Martin was under a tarpaulin, and when I peeled it back, I was both surprised and delighted to see that it was unblemished. What a beauty! No wonder this model had starred in two Bond films. I got into the front seat, humming
Skyfall
to myself, and inhaled the wonderful aroma of Classic Car (
they really should learn to bottle this
). For a second or two, the wonder of my car soothed away the fury I felt with Laura. But then I turned the key. Dead. Bloody nothing. My blood rose again. The battery was fucking dead! I got out and saw Laura standing there, her lips quirked into another victorious smile. Had she done this on purpose?

“James is away so hasn’t been here to start the engine.
Poor
Alexandre,” she said, sarcasm dripping from her languid, snooty tongue. “Anyway, the delay will be perfect—I’ll change into something more comfortable while you recharge the battery, then while we wait for it to juice-up, we can have a heart-to-heart.”

“No, Laura. I’m off.
Now.
Suresh can come and pick up the car at some point; I don’t have time for this nonsense and the last thing I want right now is a cozy chat with you.” I slammed the car door shut, sheathed my pride and joy with its cover, then stormed over to the red button on the wall, which I pressed with vigor. The garage door buzzed open. I shot out under the narrow space, as Laura shouted after me, but I legged the hell out of there.

I didn’t want to see Laura’s brazen face ever again.

9

I
called Pearl but her cell was off. I wanted to explain the whole Laura fiasco, minus the Bloody Mary incident. I still couldn’t bring myself to admit that it ever happened. I felt ashamed of myself being trussed up, hands bound, body numb—as immovable as a Christmas turkey about to be delved into. It made me feel like a real fucking fool. One day I’d tell Pearl—after I’d gotten a ring on her finger, but right now wasn’t the time.

I wondered how much longer she’d be staying in London. I debated whether I should go to Hampstead—to Daisy’s mother’s house—and just wait outside the front door for Pearl until she came back. Then my cell went. I hoped it was her calling me but then it hit home,
Why on Earth would Pearl call me now? She’s given up on me. Not interested. Can’t be bothered with my stupid games
and I don’t blame her.

I pressed ‘talk’. It was Sebastian, my new video game partner.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Do you have time for a pint?” I’d forgotten that—the British are always talking about ‘pints down the pub.’ I weighed my options. I really did want to just get going to Hampstead. Be that stalker.

“No,” I answered in a flat voice. “You’ve caught me at a bad time.”

“I really need you to meet our other programmer. Just for five minutes. You know, you can always tell in the first few seconds if you like a person or not. I’d rather you checked him out, personally.”

“I trust your judgment, Sebastian.”

“He’s coming over to the office so I thought we’d pop round the pub just to make him feel at ease.”

“The one around the corner from the office?”

“Yeah, The Lamb and Flag.”

I looked at my watch. Covent Garden was pretty much
en route
to Hampstead. “Okay but just five minutes.”

I hailed a cab.

After our brief pub meeting—the new guy nervous but a good, hard-working type and apparently very talented—I stood outside the pub on the street, amidst the traffic, and tried calling Pearl again. I’d noticed that London had become a fascinating melting pot of foreign bodies, fluttering and weaving about like ribbons of different colored flags through the busy streets. Nobody spoke English here anymore; Brazilians, French, Italians, Germans, South Americans, all having made London their home—was anyone British? (Except the taxi drivers—the opposite of New York City.) The phone rang and rang. No bloody answer. My cell buzzed in my hand—it made me jump. It was Sophie.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were in London, Alexandre? I’m here, too. We could have met up.”

“What for?” My voice was clipped. Sophie was not my favorite person in the world right now. In fact,
everyone
was getting under my skin since Pearl and I had been parted for the last two weeks. I’d been edgy, snappy and volatile. “How did you know I was in London?”

“That’s why I’m calling. Pearl told me. We bumped into each other. She just dropped me off in Hampstead.”

“She dropped
you
off? She rented a car?”

“No. She’s with my driver. I dropped in to see a friend up here. Pearl and I crossed paths in Harrods. What a coincidence, eh? She confirmed what you told me about Laura’s lies. Said she’d been at Laura’s and recounted the whole freaky story—that Laura said I’d tried to kill her—that her accident was my fault. Fucking crazy! Alexandre, I don’t know what game you’re playing seeing Laura still, but Pearl loves you.
Really
loves you. She told me she saw you at Laura’s house. Entering her front door. What the hell were you doing there? Are you
fucking
her?”

“Of course not. I was taking those bloody English books back and went to get my car.”

“Well you should stay away from that little bitch—she has it in for you.”

“Yeah, I’m coming to that very same conclusion. She’s insane. Did Laura mention the Bloody Mary fiasco to Pearl?”

“I don’t think so—if she did, Pearl didn’t mention it. Pearl told me you’d split up, that you didn’t want to give her the time of day and that you were dating Laura again. You’re not lying to me, are you? It’s not true, is it?”

“What do you think? Of course bloody not.”

“I didn’t think so. We bonded, Alexandre. For the first time ever, Pearl was open with me. She was crying and everything—she’s so distraught and brokenhearted. I felt so guilty for having been such a bitch to her. Poor thing, she’s really hurting right now. She’s so in love with you, Alexandre. So in love.”

I felt an ache in my solar plexus.
Poor Pearl. She must be confused out of her mind.
“Well I’m going to hail a cab right now and go up to Hampstead.”

“She won’t be there now. She just zipped by the house to get her suitcase and say goodbye to Daisy’s mother—I told my driver to take her to Heathrow Airport.”

“Where’s she going?”

“To New York.”

“Do you know what time?”

“I do, actually. She’ll be leaving about ten thirty. She’s flying with American Airlines.” All Sophie’s information was computing in my brain. There was no point going to Hampstead now. I’d get on a plane myself to New York—get there first and wait for Pearl at her new apartment—the one I’d rented for her. Ha! I even had a spare set of keys. She wouldn’t be able to avoid me.

I called the airline and got her upgraded to First class with special instructions to take extra care of her. That was the least I could do.

Thanks to the private jet company I use (yes, I’m really green, really ecological with my great, big, black, carbon footprint), I got back to New York ahead of Pearl and in time to organize a few things.

I had several boxes of groceries delivered, with everything essential for a new apartment, and stocked up the fridge with food. The place was perfect for Pearl; two bedrooms, a smart marble bathroom. Pre-war but sleekly furnished in neutral colors, and with all the mod cons. However, I was now kicking myself. I wanted her to come back home where she belonged: to
my
apartment.

I waited patiently, making a few business calls in between checking her whereabouts. She had arrived at JFK. A driver would be there to collect her but with strict instructions not to let her know that I was the one who sent him—
let her believe it’s Sophie.

I wanted to take her by surprise when she came home. Make it so she couldn’t say no.

An hour or two later, I heard the key turn in the lock and I quickly opened the door. Pearl fell into me, landing in my waiting arms, surprised as hell, obviously mistaking me for a rapist or a burglar—and I thought for a second,
That’s me, the burglar who wants to rob her independence, steal her for myself
. And a rapist, because all I had been thinking about was fucking her, despite my conscience telling me it was wrong, that she wouldn’t be ready, that if I’d been a ‘good’ person, sex would have been the last thing on my mind.

“Pearl, baby. I’ve missed you so much. I’m so in love with you—I can’t live without you. I’ve been climbing the walls.” My feelings spilled out of my mouth in a torrent. I could feel my nose burning as my eyes misted up. She looked so beautiful; her blonde hair mussed up, her cheeks glowing from the cold night. I gathered her tightly in my arms, bringing her close to my chest and kissing the top of her head to hide my face. I didn’t want her to see my wet eyes. Her hair smelled so sweet—I breathed her in. My savior, my life.

“Get off me!” she screamed as she struggled from beneath my amorous grip. “What kind of game are you playing Alexandre Chevalier? You’re with Laura now!”