The Endgame (11 page)

‘Lisa?’ He pulled back, frowning at her in concern.

‘Sorry.’ She bit her lip.

‘You want to stop.’ It was a statement, not a question. He closed his eyes, as if in pain, and let out a sigh.

‘I can’t – I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be,’ he said, opening his eyes again.

His hands dropped away and she wanted to cry, yearning to throw herself back into his arms and damn the consequences. Instead she lifted herself off him.

‘It’s not that I don’t want to,’ she said as she stood up. ‘I can’t explain–‘

‘Lisa, it’s fine. You don’t owe me any explanation.’ He leaned forward on his knees, breathing heavily, obviously struggling to regain control.

‘Will I see you again?’ he asked, looking up at her.

‘I don’t know. I guess it depends on Mark. Would you want to?’

‘Of course. I like you, Lisa. Obviously I’m attracted to you too, but I enjoy spending time with you. I’d like if we could be friends.’

She frowned. ‘Even without benefits?’

Grayson chuckled. ‘Even then.’

‘I’d like that. I like spending time with you too.’ That was an understatement. It was the happiest she’d been in years. ‘But I don’t know if it’s going to be possible. Mark–‘ How could she explain that Mark wouldn’t mind if she fucked Grayson, but would fly into a jealous rage if he thought she was friends with him?

But Grayson just sighed and nodded understandingly. ‘He’s a very lucky man.’

Lisa stood, smoothing out her skirt. ‘I guess I should go and find him.’

Before opening the door, she checked her appearance in the mirror. Her blouse was creased, her nipples still hard and prominent under the sheer material. She looked flushed and disheveled, the traces of arousal still lingering in her dark pupils and swollen lips. At least she didn’t have to fake it this time. She glanced at Grayson and he looked just as rumpled.

They found Isabel and Mark coming downstairs as they emerged from the study. Lisa felt a pang of jealousy as Isabel went straight to Grayson and put an arm around his waist. There was something so casually affectionate and familiar about the gesture, and the way they murmured softly to each other in low voices so that only the two of them could hear. It made her glad she hadn’t let things go further with Grayson because she knew it would have hurt more to see him gravitate towards Isabel now, and to watch them leave together looking like they belonged with each other.

‘We must do this again soon,’ Isabel said, as they stood in the doorway.

‘Yes, let’s arrange something,’ Mark agreed. But no firm plans were made, and Lisa wondered if they would be.

‘I had such a lovely time tonight,’ Grayson whispered in her ear as he kissed her goodbye. ‘I hope I’ll see you again soon.’ He pulled back, looking deeply into her eyes as he took her hand in both of his and kissed it.

Then he snaked his arm around Isabel’s waist and they left. Lisa stood in the doorway with Mark, waving them off, and wondered if she would ever see Grayson again. And what would happen if she did?

She had found herself looking forward to the weekend, buoyed up by the hope of seeing Grayson again, and she was disappointed each day when Mark made no mention of any plans. She didn’t dare to bring up the subject herself and risk arousing his suspicion and jealousy. By Friday, she had resigned herself to the fact that it wouldn’t be happening. So she hadn’t been surprised when he told her at breakfast that he had made dinner reservations at Locale, his favourite restaurant.

‘Just the two of us,’ he’d said, gazing at her adoringly. ‘I want you all to myself this weekend.’

She had returned his loving smile and pretended to be touched by the romantic gesture, hiding her disappointment that she wouldn’t get to see Grayson. But it didn’t crush her spirit, because even if she were never to see Grayson again, he had given her something that no one could take away. Memories of the time they had spent together would flash through her mind every so often, and they warmed and sustained her – their conversations, their chess games, the lovely things he had said to her ... Heat came to her cheeks as she thought of other things – the softness of his mouth on her, the gentle touch of his hands, the relentlessness of his tongue and lips on her heated flesh as he pleasured her. But instead of feeling shame or disgust, those memories warmed her too.

She felt almost light-hearted now as she got ready for her day. It was the same vacuous round of shopping and salon visits as always, but she didn’t care because she no longer let it define her. She leaned into the mirror as she applied a final coat of lipstick to her expertly lined lips. Then she pulled back and smiled at her reflection in the mirror, pleased that for once she didn’t see a stranger looking back at her. It was the same expertly made-up doll face, but there was a glimmer in her eyes now, a spark of life in her features that hadn’t been there before. There was a glimpse of the old Lisa behind the mask, and it filled her with hope. This was the person she used to be, not the pathetic shell of a human being Mark had turned her into. This was someone worth fighting for.

But for now there was shopping to do. Mark had told her to buy a new dress for tonight, leaving the choice to her.

‘Surprise me,’ he’d said before kissing her goodbye this morning.

She used to enjoy dressing up for Mark, she thought, with a sad smile. There was a time when she had relished the opportunity to surprise and delight him, and she would throw herself into searching for the perfect outfit, excitedly anticipating his pleasure as she chose what she thought would appeal to him most, and glowing with pride when she was rewarded by the obvious appreciation and desire in his eyes that told her she had got it right.

But slowly he had sucked the joy out of it, and now it was just a chore, another demand to be met. She turned to the open wardrobe, her eyes running over the rails of expensive, barely-worn clothes. The last thing she needed was a new dress. But there was no point in arguing. Mark would just take it as an insult and reproach her for being ungrateful. He never ceased to remind her how lucky she was, how enviable most women would consider her luxurious lifestyle. She knew he was right about that. From the outside, she seemed to have it all, and no doubt many women
would
envy her – but only because they didn’t know the reality behind the glossy facade. This beautiful house was a prison; her handsome, indulgent boyfriend her jailor – and her life of apparent ease and luxury was in truth little more than slavery.

She shook her head as if to dislodge such negative thoughts. She wasn’t going to dwell on the past or wallow in regret about what she had lost. From now on she would focus on the future, keep working steadily towards that glimmer of light in the distance and trust that she would get there eventually. She just had to play Mark’s game for a little while longer, she told herself determinedly as she swung her bag onto her shoulder and checked herself in the mirror one last time before leaving the house.

‘Oops, sorry!’ She was coming out of the Bond Street hairdressing salon, checking a text from Mark on her cell phone, when she collided with someone. ‘Excuse me,’ she moved to sidestep them without looking up as they apologised to each other.

‘Lisa?’

She looked up then, and it took her a moment to place the tall, slim girl in front of her.

‘Rose! Hi!’ she said as she recognised her. Rose had been in her year at art college. They would have graduated together if Lisa had stayed on.

‘How are you?’ Rose asked. ‘I haven’t seen you in ages.’

‘I’m fine, thanks. How are you?’

‘Great! I’ve just been into Gallery Six,’ she jerked her head towards the end of the road. Lisa knew the gallery. It was in Mayfair, close to Mark’s, and almost as prestigious. ‘I’m having my first solo exhibition there next month,’ Rose beamed.

‘Oh, that’s really exciting! Congratulations!’

‘I know! You must come to my opening.’ Rose’s excitement was palpable, her eyes dancing with joy, and Lisa felt a twinge of envy.

‘So what have you been up to?’ Rose asked her. ‘I’m surprised I haven’t heard anything – I thought you’d be mega-famous by now, taking the world by storm. You were always the big star at college.’

‘Was I?’

‘Oh, come on, don’t be so modest – you know you were. We were all so jealous when Mark Reader zoned in on you and made you his protégé. So what have you been doing? ‘

Lisa shrugged. ‘Nothing much. I don’t paint anymore.’

Rose frowned, appearing genuinely shocked. ‘You don’t? So what are you doing now? Don’t tell me you’ve taken up sculpture? Everyone I know seems to be doing that lately.’

‘Um ... nothing. I gave up art altogether.’

‘You’re kidding! But you were so talented.’

‘Not talented enough, it turned out,’ Lisa said with a self-deprecating smile.

Rose frowned. ‘So what do you do?’ she asked. ‘Weren’t you working at Mark’s gallery for a while?’

‘Yes, but not anymore. I– I’m not working at the moment.’ Lisa tried to make it sound like a temporary thing.

‘Oh.’ Rose’s smile faded and her eyes swept over Lisa, seeming to take her in properly for the first time. Lisa felt very self-conscious, realising how she must look with her freshly styled hair, her expensive clothes, and the designer shopping bags on her arm. Rose was casually dressed in skinny jeans and pumps with an oversized sweater, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. She looked young and arty, and she made Lisa feel stuffy and middle-aged, even though they were the same age.

‘Well, you seem to be doing okay anyway,’ Rose said with a little smirk. ‘Are you still with Mark?’

Lisa cringed. She could tell exactly what Rose was thinking – that she had bagged a rich man and promptly given up work to become a pampered housewife. ‘Yes, I am,’ she answered with a defiant tilt to her chin.

‘Well, good for you.’ Rose looked at her with a mixture of curiosity and amusement that made Lisa uncomfortable. ‘You should definitely come to my launch – and bring Mark. I’ll send an invite to his gallery, shall I?’

‘Yes, do. We’ll try to make it.’

‘Great! What are Susie and Daniel up to these days?’ Rose asked, naming Lisa’s two closest friends from college.

‘I don’t know,’ Lisa shrugged. ‘I ... haven’t seen them for a long time.’

‘Oh, you don’t keep in touch? That’s a surprise. Hey, I’m meeting up with Anna and Nikki for drinks tonight. You should come. I’m sure they’d love to see you and catch up.’ Anna and Nikki were fellow college classmates.

‘Thanks, but Mark and I are going out tonight,’ Lisa said, surprised that she felt genuine regret. She hadn’t been particular friends with Rose, Anna or Nikki at college, but she suddenly felt it would be good to reconnect with people from that time, people her own age. She glanced at her watch. She had some time before she had to be home. ‘We could go for a drink now?’ she suggested on an impulse.

‘Oh, I’d love to,’ Rose said, ‘but I’ve got to get back. I’m doing some temping at a little PR company on Regent Street. Dull as hell, but it pays the bills. Sorry,’ she said with an apologetic grimace, ‘but some of us have to work for a living.’

There was just the hint of a sneer in her smile, and the derisive way her eyes once more flicked over her body made Lisa glad she wasn’t able to join her for a drink. What had she been thinking? Rose was a bitch. She had been fiercely competitive with Lisa at art college, and there had always been an undercurrent of spite and jealousy beneath her overt friendliness. Now that her star was in the ascendant, she would no doubt love the opportunity to gloat over her former rival. It would just be depressing, and Lisa could do without that. Besides, they had nothing in common anymore. What would they even talk about? It would be awkward and uncomfortable at best.

‘Some other time maybe,’ Rose was saying now as she turned to go.

‘Yes, definitely,’ Lisa smiled. But they both knew it was a pretence. Neither of them even bothered to make a show of swapping numbers.

‘I’ll tell Nikki and Anna I met you.’

‘Yeah, say hi to them for me,’ Lisa called after her. Rose was probably dying to tell her friends about bumping into her. She could imagine them all gossiping about her tonight over cocktails, Rose laughing as she filled them in on the fact that she had abandoned her art to become a trophy girlfriend.

She stood still in the street, almost dizzy with envy as she watched Rose walk away. She looked so young and carefree, sauntering down the street in her loping stride, bubbling with happiness about her solo show. Exciting things were happening for her, and life seemed to be opening up before her, full of possibilities. Lisa knew how it felt. That had been her once.

She tried to shake off the feelings of bitterness and resentment as she turned to walk in the opposite direction. But the encounter with Rose had unsettled her, and she felt almost paralysed by regret. It preyed on her mind what Rose had said about Lisa being the star of their year, the one they all expected to have the big breakthrough. She had believed that herself once. Mark had believed it. She had been so excited about embarking on her artistic career, full of hopes and plans for the future, and sure that good things were going to happen for her. Having Mark’s backing gave her good reason to be confident, but it wasn’t just that. She had believed in what she was doing; believed in her own talent.

She had been walking on air in those days when she had first moved in with Mark. It had been bliss having so much time to devote to painting, and Mark talked about giving her a show when she had produced enough work. It had seemed like it was only a matter of time. But nothing she produced was ever good enough for him. He rejected piece after piece, and gradually he had stopped talking about her show. When she had nudged him about it one day, he had looked at her pityingly.

‘Oh, baby, I’m sorry,’ he had said. ‘I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, but you’re just not good enough yet. I have the gallery’s reputation to think of. I can’t show this stuff just because you’re my girlfriend. I’d be laughed out of town.’

She remembered how she had fought back tears, trying to be grown-up about it and take it on the chin.

‘Maybe next year,’ Mark had said consolingly. ‘You just need more time to develop.’

Mark’s criticism stung, but she had told herself she was lucky to have it. He knew what he was talking about, after all. He was a star-maker. She just had to do better. So she had thrown herself back into painting, working harder than ever, determined to produce work he would be proud to represent.

Her show never materialised, but finally he had accepted a couple of her paintings for the gallery. He hadn’t been overly enthusiastic about them, but he said he would give them a chance and it would allow him to test the market. Lisa had been proud of them, and thought they were the best work she had ever done. She hoped they would sell, and Mark’s faith in her would be justified. Sometimes she felt that he held her to higher standards because he was wary of letting his feelings for her colour his judgement. So she had been optimistic as she waited anxiously for some objective feedback.

But as weeks passed without a sale, she became increasingly despondent. She saw Mark’s faith in her dwindling, and it undermined her confidence in what she was doing. She had tried to keep her spirits up and persevere with her work. One day, when she had been feeling particularly low and on the verge of giving up, she had dropped into the gallery to look at her paintings to cheer herself up. It had been one of the proudest moments of her life when she had first seen her art hanging on the wall in Mark’s gallery. Having her paintings for sale in such a prestigious space – not to mention the hefty price tag attached to them – had felt like a huge achievement, and a real validation of her work. It had made her feel like a proper artist, and she had gone there that day to remind herself of that.