Beautiful Liar (15 page)

“Hey!” Viktor was already on his feet, closely followed by his brother. “Who do you think you are talking to?”

“Alex,” I said warningly, as the twins advanced towards him.

But he was already straightening up and turning to face his attackers, with a speed that left me breathless. I stood frozen with shock as he punched Viktor on the nose, his knuckles crunching against bone, and landed a blow to Vladimir's stomach. The two brothers stumbled backwards, Viktor clutching at his nose, Vladimir bent over, clearly winded.

They weren't down for long, though. This wasn't the first time they'd been hit—it was their job after all. I looked from them to Alex. He'd assumed a boxer's stance, and his wolf eyes were blazing. He was clearly ready for a fight, and very proficient at it. He had a lightness to his moves that looked honed over years of training. But even though I didn't doubt his skill, I still didn't like his chances against the twins—there were two of them, after all.

The few other people in the café were also obviously sensing that the situation was about to escalate, and didn't want to get involved. The waitresses were suddenly nowhere
to be seen, and the customers were hastily throwing cash onto the tables, and leaving half-finished food as they made for the door.

As the brothers advanced towards Alex, my mind was racing as I wondered what to do. And then—

“Stop!” Sergei's voice rang out. The twins came to an immediate halt, like Duracell bunnies that'd had their batteries removed. “No more fighting,” he instructed his thugs. He turned to nod at Alex. “He's right. I have my money. There is nothing to be gained from making a scene, apart from dragging the police in, and I do not want that.” Relief coursed through me. Although I'd been impressed by Alex's moves, I hadn't really wanted him to put them to the test. Then Sergei turned to me. “Just tell your mother not to come looking for any more loans from me. I don't need this grief.”

There was nothing more to say to that. I just wanted to get out of there, and forget what had happened. Alex rested a hand on my shoulder, and the two of us left the café.

Once we were outside and safely in his car, I felt all the tension leave my body. I turned to Alex.

“So where did you learn to do that?”

He grinned. “Would you believe boarding school? The gentleman's sport of boxing has had quite the renaissance over the past decade.”

“Seriously? You had lessons in how to beat each other up?” I
shook my head in disbelief. “At my school, the teachers spent most of their time trying to make sure we didn't kill each other.”

It was rush hour by now, and it took a while to get back to Alex's apartment. As we stepped out of the lift into the hallway, I said, “Thanks again for everything. Obviously I'll get out of your way now—”

He frowned. “Why would you do that? I told you last night you could stay.”

“I know, but now everything with Sergei is sorted out, I can go back to the B and B.”

“Oh, please.” He shook his head dismissively. “Why on earth would you want to live in that fleapit when you can stay here?”

It was a fair point. There weren't many people who'd choose to live in a cockroach-infested room rather than a luxury apartment. But still . . .

“Just tell me one thing,” I said finally. “This isn't some ploy of yours to get me to sleep with you, is it?”

“No. It's not.” He grinned. “Although it's always nice to be reminded of what a low opinion you have of me.” He sighed. “Look, if you want to justify it to yourself, think of it like this. I paid off your debt. In exchange, you promised to continue working for me. To do that, you need to stay safe, and I'm not sure that's going to happen if you carry on living in that hovel.”

For some reason, his words deflated me. He only thought of me as a commodity—something he had invested in. I wasn't sure why I was so surprised. Had I really been expecting him to say he cared about me?

“Fair enough,” I said quietly. “I'll stay until my debt's cleared. If that's what you want.”

“It is.”

Right then, my phone bleeped in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw a text from Jas. We were meant to be meeting for lunch at her flat, and she was letting me know that she'd be a bit late, because she'd spent the night at Hugh's.

“Unbelievable,” I muttered.

“What's that?”

“Jas.” I sent her a quick text saying that was fine, and then tucked my phone back into my pocket. “She's with Hugh.”

Alex must have sensed my tone, because he looked over at me, his eyebrow raised. “And that's a bad thing?”

“Well, it ain't good.”

“Why do you say that?”

I looked at him. “You're seriously asking me that? The guy's just using her.”

“For what?”

“You know what for.” When he continued to pretend to be confused, I gave a big sigh. “Fine. I'll say it then. He's using her for sex.”

Alex frowned. “I sincerely doubt that. Hugh's a good guy. I've
known him since prep school. He doesn't have a bad bone in his body.”

“Yeah, well. You would say that.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, he's your friend, isn't he? You probably think it's fine for him to shag the trashy waitress and then ignore her until he wants to have sex again.”

Alex burst out laughing. “You really do have a suspicious mind, don't you? Honestly, nothing could be further from the truth. Hugh's crazy about Jas.”

“Well, I guess we'll see who's right eventually,” I said a touch primly. “Anyway, talking of Jas—I'm really going to have to tell her that I'm staying here. I can't risk her finding out for herself. And she's going to ask questions about why we were hanging out together . . .”

He paused for a moment. “I suppose you're going to have to tell her the truth, then.” His eyes glinted as he added, “That should be a novel change for you.”

* * *

That afternoon, Jas and I sat drinking tea in her tiny living room. She listened wide-eyed as I told her everything—from my mother's drinking to the poker nights and Sergei.

“So now you're staying at Alex's?” she asked, once the whole story was out. “I knew there was something going on between you!”

“Trust me. There isn't.”

“Yeah, a likely story.” She threw a cushion at me. “And you had the cheek to give me a hard time about Hugh.”

“How's that going, by the way?” I asked, looking to change the subject.

“Oh, don't say it like that. I know you don't approve. But he's been really good to me.” Her eyes went dreamy as she spoke of how he'd cooked her dinner and brought her breakfast in bed.

It all sounded lovely, except for one thing: they didn't seem to be spending time with anyone other than each other. “What about his friends and family?” I said casually. “Have you met any of them yet?”

She frowned. “Well, no.” I could see her chewing at her inner lip. “But we haven't been together for that long. I'm sure that'll happen.”

I just nodded, and hoped for her sake that she was right about him.

* * *

When I got back to the flat that night, Alex was waiting for me. He was smiling.

“You're looking very pleased with yourself.”

“I am.” His smile widened. “I've got something for you.”

“Oh?”

He reached into his jeans pocket, pulled out a piece of
paper and handed it to me. It was a concert ticket for Tumbleweed, my favourite band.

I looked up at him, a question in my eyes.

“Jas mentioned you liked them, so I got us all tickets. You, me, Jas and Hugh. I thought it'd be a good way for you to get to know him a little better—make sure that his intentions towards your friend are honourable.”

I looked at the date, and bit my lip. It was for a Tuesday evening over in the Caledonian Road, North London. And Tuesday was the night I met up with April.

“What's wrong?” Alex had clearly seen my reaction.

“I can't go.” I knew I needed to give more explanation. “It's the night I meet my sister. I can't let her down.”

His brow furrowed. “Can't you change it to another night?”

I gave a short, harsh laugh. “Spoken like someone who's never had to deal with Social Services.” He looked at me quizzically. “Trust me—the system isn't set up to be that flexible.”

“And you can't skip it for once? Your sister would understand.”

“I can't do that to her.” I handed the ticket back. “I'm sorry if you wasted your money. But I'm sure you'll find someone else who'll be dying to go with you.” I waited a beat, and then couldn't help adding, “Tori, maybe. I can see it being right up her street.”

He smiled at that.

He pocketed the ticket, but I could tell the conversation wasn't over yet. He sat back and regarded me with an intense stare.

“What?” I said finally.

“Why are you always so restrained? This isn't me hassling you about the ticket,” he added hastily. “It's just that you're always like this. You work and you take care of your family. But you never seem to have any—” He hesitated. “Well, you don't seem to have any
fun
.”

“I told you before. My mother's an alcoholic.”

“I know that. And I get the not-drinking part. But there's more to it than that. You're always so . . .” He trailed off, as though searching for the right word.

“So what?” I sounded as defensive as I felt. Somehow I had a feeling whatever he was about to say wasn't going to be complimentary.

“I was going to say so responsible.”

“Someone had to be.” I tried to sound nonchalant, but deep down I wasn't. There were times over the years when I'd wished I could have had more of a childhood. But I'd also learnt that there was no point feeling sorry for myself. Someone had to try to hold our family together—to pick up the pieces after my mother and look after April. And there was no one else but me.

I preferred not to think about it, but Alex didn't seem
willing to let it go.

“It's not very fair on you, though, is it?” he said. “You're only nineteen. You shouldn't have all this responsibility.”

“Well, what do you suggest I do? Leave my sister in foster care and swan off enjoying myself?”

“No.” He sounded like he was trying to be reasonable. “I think it's great what you're doing for your family. I'm just saying you should give yourself a break now and again. The world won't fall apart because you have one night off.”

“Yeah, well, that's easy for you to say. You've never had to worry about anything apart from enjoying yourself. Don't judge me when you have no idea what my life is like.”

“Fair enough, I won't.” He waited a beat. “As long as you do me the same courtesy.”

It took me a moment to figure out what he meant. It was a good point, and I felt my cheeks heat up as I realised what I'd done. I hated that he was so quick and smart with his words. He always seemed to get the better of me.

“I should go and try to get some sleep.” It wasn't the wittiest reply, but it was all I had.

“Just think about coming to see the band next week. It'd do you good.”

There was no point discussing it further. He didn't seem to realise how much I'd have loved to go—but I just couldn't. I got up and headed to my room.

The next few days I settled into my new surroundings. Alex was rarely there, so I didn't see him apart from very briefly as he was coming in or going out.

I had met April on the Tuesday night, once she was back from her trip, and told her about my new living arrangements—saying that I was staying with a friend I'd met through my new job. Usually she'd have wanted to hear all the details, but she was more preoccupied with her own circumstances. She assured me that Racquel was no longer bullying her, but said that even so she'd rather be back home with me and Mum. I couldn't say I blamed her.

It was as though some higher power knew I was already fed up enough with my family situation. When I had got up the next morning, I had a message to call the rehab centre. It was over a month since my mother had been admitted, and when I phoned back, her counsellor told me that she
had been doing so well that they thought it was time for me to join her in one of her therapy sessions. She apparently wanted to apologise for all the times she'd let me down over the years. If it was convenient, I could come in one afternoon.

“Do I have to?” I said.

For some reason, they didn't seem to think I was serious.

* * *

The following Tuesday afternoon, I made my way out to the centre.

The meeting had been set up in a formal room, and it was clearly a big deal. Tea was served in fine china, and I could see again why this place was setting me back so much.

After ten minutes my mother came in, and delivered her prepared speech to me. Her counsellor sat nearby, and they'd clearly been working together on what she should say. The counsellor nodded encouragingly as my mother spoke, sometimes mouthing the words along with her.

It was hard to listen to my mother apologising. I tried to appear engaged, but I'd heard it all before. She was looking for forgiveness, and I just didn't have it in me. But I said what she wanted to hear—that I accepted her apology, and believed she really was going to stay sober this time—mostly so I could get out of there.

The counsellor asked to speak privately with me
afterwards. I didn't exactly feel like I had a choice in the matter. She took me into her room, smiling like we were sharing a secret.

“That wasn't easy to hear, was it?” She gestured to me to sit down.

I just looked at her.

“You know she means what she says, don't you?”