Frisky Business (21 page)

‘Yeah,’ he said, laughing. ‘There was a lot of snogging too, wasn’t there?’

‘A lot. Hours and hours of snogging. It’s a wonder either of us ever passed an exam.’

‘It’s only thanks to you that I ever did.’

‘Well,
you taught me stuff too. You completed my musical education.’

‘That’s true. If it wasn’t for me, you’d probably still be listening to The Backstreet Boys.’

‘Well, about that …’ she said, giving him a sheepish smile.

‘Oh my God, don’t tell me – you
are
still listening to The Backstreet Boys?’

‘Not exactly, but …’

‘Come on – out with it.’

‘Well, last summer I went to see Take That.’

‘Take That? For fuck’s sake – the minute my back is turned!’

‘And they were
brilliant!’

‘Please. They were
not
brilliant.’

‘They were. You weren’t there. They were completely amazing! It was the best concert I’d ever been to.’

‘What?’

‘Oh, apart from that one you took me to in Belfast, obviously – what were they called? Something about Dirt Bikes?’

‘Dirt Bikes for the Elderly?’

‘That’s it. They were
amazing,’
she said, not hiding her grin.

He pouted. ‘They were seriously underrated.’

‘Well, maybe you should have formed a fan club, spread the word – you and those other two guys in the audience.’ She giggled.

‘Oh, that’s so unfair! There were way more people than that there. There were at least … five,’ he conceded, laughing. ‘And that’s not even including you and me.’

‘Wow, next stop the O
₂
! Sorry. I’m a hopeless case. That music-to-slash-your-wrists-by just never did it for me.’

‘Just don’t tell me about going to Take That concerts. It upsets me.’

Romy
looked around the room. The wardrobe doors were open and it was empty, and apart from a few knick-knacks it seemed completely bare.

‘Is this all there is?’ she asked Kit, waving around at the boxes and suitcases stacked on the floor.

‘Yeah, that’s everything.’

‘We should be able to do it in one trip, then. What about the stuff you said you still had to pack?’

Kit smiled guiltily. ‘There isn’t anything. I just wanted to lure you up here to my room.’

‘Oh.’ Romy’s heart beat faster. Maybe she wasn’t the only one thinking it might be nice to re-enact one of their make-out sessions.

‘Well, I wanted Mom to
see
me lure you up to my room, actually.’

‘Oh.’ The little flame of excitement that had flickered to life inside her was doused. ‘You want her to think we’re up here … canoodling or something?’

Kit laughed. ‘Canoodling! Sometimes, you talk like you’re from the fifties.’ He pulled her into a hug. ‘Well, you know, since you’re going to be my fake girlfriend for this wedding, I thought we should start to lay the groundwork for that.’ ‘Right.’ She tried to hide her disappointment.

‘Oh, by the way, Mom said to ask you to dinner tomorrow.’ ‘Tomorrow?’

‘It’s Thanksgiving.’

‘It is? Already?’

‘Well, it’s not really Thanksgiving for another two weeks, but we’re having it tomorrow because everyone will be too busy getting ready for Hannah’s wedding by then. And it’s sort of a homecoming dinner for Ethan too – we’re killing the fatted turkey.’

‘Oh, right. I’ll have to see if I can get a babysitter.’

‘You
don’t have to come, you know.’

‘I’d like to. I mean, if you want me to …’

‘Yeah, I’d love you to come. But Mom will be cooking, so—’

‘I love your mother’s dinners.’

Kit gave her a sceptical look.

‘What? I do! I used to love when I’d get asked to stay to dinner here.’ She meant it. Granted, Kit’s mother was a pretty awful cook, but she did everything with such warmth and love that somehow she managed to achieve an overall effect of comfort and cheer.

‘Well, on your head be it,’ Kit said, getting up off the bed. ‘I’m just going to the loo. Back in a sec.’

When he was gone, Romy sprang off the bed and looked around the room. Her eyes drifted to the packing boxes. There was one by the door still open and she spotted the framed photomontage she had made for Kit lying on the top. She picked it up and examined it, smiling at the memories it conjured up. As she placed it back in the box, something else caught her eye that caused her heart to start racing. Through the heap of jumbled bits and pieces, she could see a long black glove. It was a gauntlet-type glove … the kind of glove that Darth Vader wore … the kind of glove she had seen lying on the floor of David’s bedroom last Hallowe’en. She never did ask Kit if he was at David’s party, she thought.

Darth Vader had said he wasn’t in Ireland often … and though she didn’t like to admit it, even to herself, there really was a superficial resemblance between Kit and Luke. She knelt and delved into the box, reaching for the glove so she could get a better look at it. But as she pulled other things out of the way, she found herself holding a box with a picture of an oddly shaped red object on the cover under the word ‘Rascal’. She glanced towards the door guiltily before pulling it out, then
knelt back on her heels, staring mutely at the box in her hands. She knew what it was – she had seen enough of them recently on those BDSM websites Lesley had shown her. Even before she saw it was made by a company called Bum Rush or read the product description on the back with its promises of easy insertion and safety during play, she knew it was a butt plug. That word ‘play’ leapt out at her, her eyes widening. She had seen it countless times on those websites too. It was how people in the BDSM community referred to their … activities. Lesley was right, she thought, feeling deflated. Kit really was into all this kinky stuff.

She heard his footsteps coming back across the landing and hastily shoved the Rascal to the bottom of the box, spotting the forgotten glove. She picked up the photomontage and had it on her knee when Kit came back into the room.

‘I was just looking at this,’ she said, smiling up at him.

‘Oh yeah,’ he grinned, taking it from her and studying it. ‘God, I looked like such a thug. What did you see in me?’

‘You were the coolest boy in school. You were the one everyone wanted. Didn’t you know that?’

‘I guess,’ he said, shrugging casually. He tossed the frame back into the box. ‘Come on, I’ll go and get Dad to help me take this stuff out to the car.’ He held his hand out to her and pulled her up. Romy followed him somewhat reluctantly, wishing she could stay behind in his room on her own for a while. Maybe if she could have a couple of hours alone with those boxes, she would be able to find out all Kit’s secrets.

When they got downstairs, Laura put the kettle on and Kit went out to find his father.

‘Romy!’ Mr Masterson beamed at her as they came in through
the garden door, his round cheerful face lighting up as he reached for her hand. ‘It’s great to see you again.’

‘Lovely to see you too,’ she said, smiling as she shook his hand. ‘You look well.’

‘I’m embracing my feminine side,’ he said, pointing to his shirt, which was the most delicate shade of pink.

Laura tutted. ‘That was your last white shirt,’ she said sadly.

‘Ah, sure, what would I want with a white shirt?’ Mr Masterson said, turning to her. ‘White doesn’t work well with the Irish complexion. Isn’t that right, Romy?’ he said, looking to her for affirmation.

‘Yes, the pink really warms up your skin tones. It’s very fetching.’

‘You see?’ he said, smiling around at them all. ‘Romy knows her stuff.’ He gave her a friendly wink. ‘Right, son, let’s get you sorted,’ he said to Kit, rubbing his hands.

Romy handed Kit the keys to her van.

‘Come and join us for coffee when you’re done,’ Laura called after them as they left the kitchen. ‘Have a seat, Romy.’

Romy sat at the large wooden kitchen table while Laura busied herself making coffee. ‘Did Kit ask you to Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow night?’ she asked.

‘Yes. I’d love to come – as long as I can get a babysitter.’

‘Well, I hope you can make it. How old is your baby now? It’s a boy, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, Luke. He’s three months.’ Romy smiled.

When Laura had joined her at the table and they were both clutching mugs of coffee, Romy took out her phone and showed her the picture of Luke that was her screensaver. ‘That’s him.’

‘Oh, he’s just adorable!’ Laura said, smiling down at the image. She handed the phone back to Romy.

‘He
is, he’s great. And he’s really good, sleeps really well and everything. I’m so lucky.’

‘It’s so good to see you again, Romy,’ Laura said. ‘It’s been such a long time, and you were like part of the family at one stage. I was so sorry to hear about your father passing,’ she said, touching Romy’s hand gently.

‘I got your card – thanks. It was good of you to think of me.’

‘And how’s your mother?’

‘She’s fine – getting on with things.’

‘I’m so pleased Kit got in touch with you again. You know, I think this redundancy could end up being the best thing that ever happened to him. I’d love to see him settle here. I don’t think he was happy in New York – not really.’

‘Oh? He seems pretty keen to get back.’

‘He had a lot going for him there on the surface – a great job, a lovely apartment. But he seemed a bit … lost. And that girl he was with – Lauren – wasn’t right for him.’

Lauren – that was the girl he had mentioned to her, his just-for-show girlfriend. Clearly they hadn’t done as good a job of fooling everyone as Kit liked to think.

‘She was perfectly nice in her way,’ Laura continued. ‘Very polite and proper – and so beautiful. Stunning actually. But she was sort of cold, and I never felt they really cared about each other. It was the same with all the girls he went out with over there. They were all the same type – almost interchangeable, in fact.’

Maybe they were interchangeable, Romy thought, the discovery she had made in Kit’s room to the forefront of her mind. Perhaps Kit’s ‘girlfriends’ were really a succession of submissives, trained to look and behave a certain way – to be polite and respectful, deferential and
discreet.
Perhaps Kit and these women didn’t care about each other at all and were only together
because they liked doing the same things – things that involved whips and anal plugs … She shook herself. She shouldn’t be thinking about Kit doing things like that while sitting across the table from his mother.

‘I still think he has his heart set on going back to New York,’ Romy said.

‘Well, we’ll have to see what we can do to change his mind about that, won’t we?’ Laura said, with a twinkle in her eye.

Romy smiled weakly. An hour ago, she’d have been receptive to Laura’s implication that she and Kit should get back together. Now, she wasn’t so sure. Not if it involved letting him use a butt plug on her …

A loud buzzing from the far corner of the kitchen startled her out of her thoughts.

‘That’ll be my pastry. I’m making pecan pie for tomorrow’s dinner. Excuse me a moment, dear,’ Laura said, getting up from the table and crossing the kitchen. As she bent to open the oven, she was obscured from view by the large kitchen island.

‘Hi,’ someone said from behind Romy. She turned in the direction of the voice to see a tall, gangly guy leaning against the door-jamb, arms folded, looking at her. He was barefoot, dressed in a white T-shirt and a pair of soft grey jogging bottoms, and was clearly just out of bed.

‘Oh, you’re up,’ Laura said, straightening up as she took a tray from the oven and placed it on the counter. ‘You remember Ethan, Romy?’

‘Ethan?’ Romy gulped as he nodded hello to her. She did remember Ethan, Kit’s little brother, but she didn’t remember him like
this.
The last time she had seen Ethan he was probably eleven years old. He had been a shy but friendly boy, a cute kid who had always been very sweet to her. Now he was …
hot
with a capital H O T. Everything about him seemed
exaggerated – his enormous blue eyes with their long sweeping lashes, his full red lips and strong jaw, and most of all his wild thatch of light brown hair that swept and swirled around his head in all directions, like whipped ice-cream. He was implausibly beautiful, like he had been drawn by a Manga artist.