Breaking Joseph (24 page)

Oh God, oh
God.

Maybe I was
fucked anyway. I should call their bluff. It was just a photo and
if the partners fired me, at least I’d still have Joseph. I should
pretend this never happened–Charlotte bounced at this as if she’d
forgotten her Ritalin.

But maybe
Joseph would feel differently if everyone knew that his girlfriend
had been a prostitute. Could I bear to humiliate him like that, to
implicate him, and would he still want me? My secrets belonged in
the dark, where he made love to them. The last time I’d kissed
him–just a quick brush of the lips before I fell into the cab
earlier–played over and over like a macabre little hologram. It was
the last time I would ever kiss him and the last time he’d look at
me with anything other than scorn.

My feet were
killing me by the time I got home. I staggered up the stairs,
turned my key in the door and crumpled onto the sofa. I should
never have sold myself. I should have waited until I was a fee
earner and then offered to help my parents. In the meantime, they
might have found another way.

What was I
going to tell them? I’d never seen them so proud, and now it all
seemed such a big lie. If I tried to bluff my way out of this,
would they hear about it eventually? I couldn’t risk that. No,
no.

When the tears
came, they were sharp and salty, and the sobs were jagged in my
throat. I had been hurt before, confused, felt isolated. This was
so very much worse. And it was all Charlotte’s fault. Now I had to
dump the man I’d fallen arse-over-tits for, my big City career had
collapsed underneath me, and I was just a girl who’d been with too
many men. Used goods, sloppy seconds. The apple was bad after
all.

As much as
Charlotte had cost, I had always said the whore was a part of me.
Stitched into my flesh. Undeniable. But as I wept and imploded, I
wished that she was somebody else so I could hang, draw and quarter
her. Could slaughter the beast.

Too late for
that now. Victory was not hers.

It belonged to
a pair of young women in a fancy restaurant, toasting Leila’s
losses and their slippery gains. They’d pulled out the big
guns.

In my lonely
little flat, I bled.

Chapter 12

For the last
year, I’d spent so long on the other side of the looking glass that
I never quite caught sight of myself. Still, I’d always assumed
that I knew who I was.

I was
wrong.

One Sunday
evening, the world collapsed beneath my fingertips and when I tried
to cling on, I found it was made of dust. I’d managed to stay my
ground for a time, but now it melted and slipped away.

When a girl
falls down a rabbit hole, she has two options: to languish at the
bottom and pick the dirt from her nails, lamenting the
inevitable–and when the fight has been knocked out of her, there’s
no telling how tempting that is. Or she could drink the potions,
pop the pills and claw her way out of there, one handful of muck at
a time. The problem was this: the mud became war paint, it didn’t
always wash off…and it turned out, she was dirty in the first
place.

Then she had to
wonder, was it still worth coming out on the other side?

* * * *

Sunday night
would. Not. End.

I stared
blankly at the television for about ten minutes before I realized
that the aerial was playing up and the screen buzzed with silver
static.

Joseph phoned
me three times. I ignored the first two. It wasn’t in me to feign
happiness and I didn’t want to lie about failing to meet him at the
club.

But the man was
nothing if not persistent, and on the last call, I picked up.

“Where are you,
baby?” he shouted over the buzz of the crowd.

“At home. I…”
I’ve been blackmailed by Poppy and your ex, and I’m fucked.
Please help me.
Go on, you moron. Say it! “I, uh.”

“You’ll have to
speak up, Leila. It’s carnage in here.”

“I…” My voice
cracked. “I love you.”

“Sorry?”

Oh God. Why did
I even say that? A miserable quiver clawed at my lower lip. “I’m
not well, Joe. I’m going to bed.”

“You–oh.” He
muttered something in another direction. “It’s not your back, is
it?”

“No.” No, no,
no.

“Good. Well,
feel better, sweetheart. Call me if you need anything.”

Ha.

I writhed in
bed for an hour before I gave up on sleep, and then propped myself
up on my laptop to write my resignation letter. The keys stuck to
my fingers with prickly ice. Was I really going to do this? Was
there any hope of sorting out such a mess?

If it existed,
it wouldn’t come, and the words poured down through my digits to
glare back off the screen. Maybe it would be cathartic to get it
over with. Maybe I thought it would all go away if I threw it into
pixels and LEDs.

I regret to
inform you that I will be unable to take the position offered to me
by the company, and it is through unfortunate circumstances that I
give notice of my intent to resign as of today…

* * * *

Aidan was not
happy that I cancelled the run. He was especially not happy because
I hadn’t told him, and when I awoke from two hours of bleak,
disturbed slumber, an angry voice mail awaited my sore ears.

I listened to
the first three curses and then hung up. I’d explain to him…at some
point. Maybe. Just not right now.

I was surprised
at how numb I felt as I entered the office. I’d come early to catch
Joseph before everyone else arrived, but Sadie informed me that he
was on the phone. Matt and Poppy soon filed in.

Poppy watched
me. Like a terrorist waiting for her bomb to go off, she braced
with the pleasure of its perverse glory.

He said I was
a close second.

She expected to
be offered my job.

Fucking
bitch.

“Morning.” Matt
whistled as he thumped into his seat.

“You’re walking
a little better.” I avoided his eyes.

“Yeah, I had
physio over the weekend with someone from the rugby club.” He
pulled open his briefcase and began to tease out empty crisp
packets. “How about you? Weren’t you going home or something?”

I couldn’t
believe he had the nerve to be so cordial.

“I did.” I
busied myself with paperwork to be filed.

“You want to go
for lunch today?”

I looked up at
him, blinking. “What?”

“Lunch, you
know.” He mimed stuffing his face with a very adequate sandwich. “I
was thinking around–”

“Leila?”
Joseph’s head swung around the door. “Did you want to see me about
something?”

My stomach
flipped.

I slid the
envelope from my bag and followed him into the office. Safely
behind the door, he grinned at me and gestured to his lap. I
pretended to ignore him and sat in front of the desk instead.

“Are you
feeling better, sweetheart?”

I chewed my
lip. “Not exactly.”

“Oh?” He always
knew when I was nervous. “Is there something wrong?”

My palms were
cool with sweat as I handed him my letter. He’d grown uncomfortable
in my silence, and he frowned at me as he tore it open. As he read
it, I put my face in my hands and it seemed like hours before I
heard his voice in the dark.

“What the fuck
is this?”

I shrugged, not
looking up. “I’m sorry.”

“
Sorry
?”
His tone rose as he smacked the paper down. “Do you want to tell me
what the hell is going on?”

“I just…I…”
Already, it was hard not to sob. I felt so ridiculous. “I changed
my mind about going into law.”

He spluttered
as he sprang up and started pacing. “You changed your mind? Am I
missing something, Leila? Because that seems like a pretty fucking
important thing to not tell me when you’re in my bed every
night!”

“I was worried
about what you’d say,” I said weakly.

He caught my
gaze then and the scorn was palpable. It slithered between us and
hissed with a forked tongue.

“I don’t
believe this.” He ducked, forcing himself into my personal space.
“Did you play me? Is that what this is?”

I couldn’t
shake my head fast enough. “I–no–
what
?”

“You’re going
to work for him, aren’t you?” He laughed bitterly. “You’ve been
going to work for him all along.”

“Who?”

“Charles
fucking Flemming.”

Never in a
million years, when Charlie first laid his hand on my thigh in that
restaurant eight years ago, did I think a little indiscretion would
shit on me from such a great height. This man had unwittingly
screwed up every relationship I’d ever had.

“You think I’m
some sort of spy? How do you even–”

“I Googled him
as soon as I caught you sending that email to him before New York,”
he spat. “It was pretty obvious that you hadn’t been to uni with
him, given that he’s twice your age, but don’t think I didn’t
notice that he set up a firm around here in the last few years. And
lo and behold, he did your reference, too.”

“I’m not going
to work for him,” I whimpered. I didn’t know what was worse–his
misplaced suspicion or the fact that he’d harboured the distrust of
me all along. Yet last night, he’d confided in me…had he finally
started to thaw? “Why didn’t you just ask–”

“You lied.” He
backed away, trying to compose himself. “You lied to me. You
interned for him. Why didn’t you just say so?”

I prodded a
tear that threatened, rubbing it away. “Because.” Because I’d been
involved with Charlie and that was unprofessional. Because it
didn’t seem important in the grand scheme of things. Because I
didn’t want Joseph to think of something like this, because,
because, because. “I’m sorry.”

“He did Matt’s
reference too. Are you both in on this?”

“There’s
nothing to be in on!” I shouted.

He spread his
hands, glaring at me. “So you tell me, then. You tell me what the
fuck is going on. You tell me where you’re going or so help me,
Leila…”

“I’m not going
to work for Charles Flemming,” I repeated, my voice wavering.

“You’re really
going to make me do this, aren’t you?” He sighed heavily and
stomped to the door. “Gordon! Get in here.”

Matt slunk
through a moment later. He shot me a quizzical stare and I jerked
my head away. “Is everything okay?” Matt asked, sinking into the
chair beside mine.

“I want to know
what relation you have to Charles Flemming,” Joseph demanded.

“He’s my
stepdad. I used to help out in his office sometimes.”

“And can you
tell me how Leila knows him? Because she’s hardly being
forthcoming.”

Matt gawped at
me in horror as his hand flew up to his hair.

Well, would you
look at that. Things
can
get worse.

“I don’t know
what you’re talking about,” he said hoarsely.

“He did Leila’s
reference too,” Joseph said, “and since she now happens to be
conveniently departing–”

“How the hell
do you know Charlie?” Matt cut in. His breath quickened. This was
real shock now, not the petty feigned kind he’d displayed seconds
earlier.

“I worked for
him when I was at school.” I couldn’t look at either of them now
and my cheeks burned with the blood rush.

“Only she’s
still in contact with him, apparently,” Joseph said. “So you could
be forgiven for suspecting that she was lying again.”

“And you’re
leaving? Why are you leaving?” said Matt.

My resolve
broke and my shoulders lurched in on themselves. “I just am.”

“Why are you
talking to my stepdad, Leila?” He pressed. “Why–”

“That’s enough.
You can go now.” Joseph flicked a hand at Matt and he rose, almost
snarling at me as he swaggered out. He slammed the door in temper
and it echoed around the office, fading to silence as if sucked
into a closing fist.

“Are you happy
now?” Weak little words, contemptuous, embarrassing.

“I’m going to
give you one more chance to tell me what you’re doing,” he said
quietly. Too quietly. “Please, Leila. Don’t make this worse than it
already is. You know I have to investigate. You’ll have wasted
these past two years.”

My mouth
wouldn’t open. I wanted desperately to sob on him and dangerous
truths swarmed on my tongue.

“Is this to do
with your other job? Is that what you’re going to do? You can’t
just be swanning off to nothing.” There was an undercurrent of
worry in his voice, a reluctant staccato, and I could have kissed
him for it. If only.

“No,” I
lied.

Silence,
again.

He kneaded the
top of his chair until his knuckles turned white. “I told you to be
honest. Why won’t you do that for me? I earned that, didn’t I? For
fuck’s sake.”

“You did.” I
gulped. “Earn it, that is.” And he didn’t deserve this, not like
me. “I’m…I’m sorry.”

“Well then.” He
folded stiff arms. “You’ve got ten minutes to clear your desk.
Security will escort you from the building.” Another pause. He
cleared his throat. “I’ll have your things sent over.”

Those would be
the clothes and books I’d left strewn across his bedroom floor, now
artefacts from our extinct affair.

I gripped the
arms of the chair as I wobbled on my heels. Just standing up had
never been such an effort. “I really am sorry.” I still couldn’t
face those eyes.

He turned to
stare out the window. “If I find out that you’ve played me, you
will
be.”

I had left my
bag empty that day and I swept the contents of my desk into it:
photos, textbooks, snacks, doodles. Stray petals from the bouquets
Joseph had sent to seduce me. Crumbs from the lunches I had shared
with Matt.

The Matt who
hovered over me.

“Why are you
leaving?” he said through gritted teeth.

I ignored
him.

“Leila.”