Sympathy for the Devil (6 page)

       I was in an amazingly productive mood today. I had washed my hair, painted my nails, and almost finished a five-thousand-word essay on Goya and the Spanish Revolution due in a week. I had run out of USBs so on her way out Amy had lent me hers.

“If a password comes up,” she explained, hairbrush in one hand, lip-gloss in the other, “it’ll be Jonas with a capital J.”

       “Amy,” I admonished. “The Jonas brothers? Really?”

       “What? They make me want to feel religious!” she defended with a grin. “I’ll see you later.”

       I put the USB on the small desk we had in the room and went to the kitchens in search of brain food. I found the end slice of some bread, a near-empty jar of Nutella, and an apple just on the turn of being soft and wrinkled.

       “Get in!” I cheered myself. I read the back page of a discarded newspaper and scoffed at the journalists’ predictions for the rest of the season. I shook my head and rather enjoyed the sweet scent of John Frieda. One of my little foibles. Like my need to run up tube escalators. Yes, even the one at Angel.

       I returned to my room intent on adding some more quotes from academics to my essay and saw Pierce standing in the corridor with that skankathon Adele Cox. I wondered if it had much to do with the fact that West and I hadn’t done the horizontal Macarena, but Pierce Callun had to be one of the most visually perfect men I had ever seen. And as depraved and downright rude as the dude was, he was insanely attractive.

       “Hi, Toni,” he said mildly, which stopped Adele in mid flow. “Can we have a chat?”

       “Er, sure. Why not?”

       Adele was giving us suspicious looks so I hurriedly took out my keys and let us in. Pierce sat on my bed and removed his coat. He was wearing a classy-looking jumper that should have been in
Town and Country
claiming the next heir to the throne of Sweden was ready to take his crown. Tangent, sorry.

       “Would you like something to drink? We’ve got some Coke and herbal tea.”

       “No, thank you,” he replied. His eyes lightened on something and he bent down to pick up a sheer lilac bra. “Yours, I believe. Amy Castle is far too small for this.”

       My face burned in horror and I snatched it from him. Stuffing it under Amy’s duvet, I looked at him nervously.

       “Look,” I blurted, uncomfortable with the silence. “I get it you don’t like me. But I think we should try to get along because of West. He’s a good bloke.”

       “I know,” he said easily. “But you’re not right about the first part.”

       “Really?” I said, pleasantly surprised. “Well, that’s great! I mean, you and I have quite a bit in common. I know we don’t support the same team or anything, but I know how hurtful it can be when people talk about you for no reason other than you’re gossip fodder.”

       “How is it the same?”

       “I had a bit of an overlap with my last boyfriend.” At Pierce’s expression I elaborated, skating over months of pain in a few words. “I liked someone else who just happened to be James’ best friend, but because of the way it sounded people at college went a little bit mental.”

       “Right...”

       He watched me with suspicion and I squirmed a little with discomfort. “You understand what I mean though, right? People gossiping about you when they don’t understand the facts?”

       “This is a little different,” Pierce explained, straightening the sleeve of his jumper. “My problem is still you.”

       I didn’t feel so stupid all of a sudden. “I’m not going anywhere,” I told him stubbornly.

       “I really think you should.”

       “Why? Everyone has awkward pasts.”

       Pierce picked a stray piece of lint from his jeans. I had a gut feeling he wished he could do the same to me. “Did you tell West that Ben is still in London?” Well, that wasn’t really... “Have you mentioned that your relationship ended nine months ago because of the bloke you’re still ‘friends’ with? How far does that friendship even go?”

       I flicked a strand out of my face with a trembling hand. “What do you want?”

       “For you to disappear. From wherever it is you came from.”

       “Is this because you don’t have a wingman?”

       “No, it’s because I don’t like my friend being screwed over. Certainly not by anyone as undeniably unworthy as you.”

       Holy shit! What was it with men that they knew exactly what to say to hurt you like a sumbitch? “Ben and I
are
just friends. If you had a soul, you’d understand that people can end a relationship with decency.”

       “Not sure West will see it the same way.” Pierce stood. “I thought I’d be fair and give you an out first.”

       “To do what? I’m not breaking up with him over something you’re imagining!” I bleated. “God, what’s wrong with you? I’m not going to do anything to him.”

       He sighed, rolling his ice-blue eyes with impatience. “Girls like you... Ten a penny. You don’t know how to be faithful. The minute trouble lurks, you run to what you know best. And that normally features someone else’s dick.”

       My voice started to break. “You’re not a friend to him. You don’t know me. You don’t know what type of person I am.”

       His eyes travelled slowly over me. “Yeah, I do. I’m sure you think you’re a nice girl but you’re hardly the take home to meet mother sort.” He tugged his coat onto his frame. “Just think of it this way. You can get out of this ‘relationship’ by yourself or I’ll make you go and he’ll hate you. Because whatever you think you have with him, it won’t undo sixteen years of friendship.”

       “Why do you get to decide?” I yelled. “It’s nothing to do with you.”

       “Yes, it is. I’m the constructive opinion, because I was there at the beginning and the end. Sort of God-like...”

       “You blaspheming, sick...” I started, my throat clogging. I thought I was going to start screaming.

       “I’ll see you,
T
. Let me know what you decide.” He shut the door behind him and I burst into tears.

       How had I crossed this guy’s wires? My first instinct was to call Cari, but I had a really bad feeling about what she would say.
James and Ben saga all over again...
The next was to pre-empt West and tell him everything, but we hadn’t been going out long enough. He wouldn’t trust my word over his friend’s, the one he knew better than his own siblings. If West tried the same thing with Cari, I’d kill him first. My only real option was to try to change Pierce’s mind. My eyes welled with tears. How I wasn’t curled up on the floor was testament to either how much Amy and I needed to hoover or that I was stronger than Pierce gave me credit for. Ben and I hadn’t seen each other in months. I didn’t even know he’d come back from India. If he really was back from his travels.

       I took a look at myself in the mirror my dad had given me as a moving-to-university present. I changed my clothes, underwear outwards, picked up my bag and coat, and made my way to West’s digs. I knocked on his door and was relieved at the joy that sprang into his eyes at the sight of me.

       “Hi!” He grinned.

      
Wipe it out
, I told myself.
You haven’t done a single thing wrong. This time...
I wrapped my arms around West’s neck and pushed him into his room with determination.

       Major - the argument I had with Pierce at Waterstones had turned me on. Minor - he was a complete bastard. I didn’t understand how I got to the stage where he occupied my thoughts. I told myself to get a grip the second I thought my name as Carina Callun. He wasn’t that attractive. He was vile, quite poisonous, and I had no idea why someone as downright sweet as West was friends with him.
He’s no good for you
, I reminded myself sharply. Besides, someone had told me lawyers should never intermarry. It would be bad. Jealousy, career sabotage, and one poor bastard ends up staying at home with the kids. Namely the wife. Blah, blah, blah. Yadda yadda yadda, divorce.

       What also persuaded me not to pull him into the nearest bedroom and get it out of the way was the fact that Toni seemed incredibly uncomfortable when he was around. Not that West would know, but I knew my friend back to front, and Pierce had upset her. When I pressed her, she never told me what he had said, only, “He hates me. I get the feeling he’d love to wash me off along with the rest of the dirt on his shoes.”

       I held back from going to see him and bottling him until he bled to death or died of internal injuries by Toni telling me, “The longer I’m with West, the more he’ll have to accept it. If you go and put him in UCH, that’s not going to happen.”

       The conflict of feelings made my head hurt, so I thought if I gathered as much information on him as possible I’d be set one way or the other. I hoped it was the hate way. The idea of being disloyal to Toni could just be that. An idea. I joined in conversations where his name cropped up [invariably some blonde crying because he’d dumped her] and got the same trailer:
He’s a cold hearted [insert derogatory insult here].

       “If you really want the truth, or to hear from someone who actually likes him,” a friend of the last blonde told me, “then talk to Fiona Gray. She’s friends with him. Don’t ask why.”The friend eyed me with sudden interest. “Wait, do you want to…”

       “No, really, no!” I insisted. I explained that he was giving my bezzie grief and I was trying to get him back. She accepted my version, for which I was relieved. Despite there being over a thousand students in this college of the university, we gossiped better than the
3am
girls.

       I found Fiona Gray through a guy I knew on my course. She was studying Ancient Greek History and just so she didn’t miss a deadline for an essay, I agreed to meet her on a Wednesday afternoon at her campus coffee shop.

       “Pierce Callun.” Her green eyes narrowed immediately, and had I been standing up, I’d have backed off by a few countries. “I’ve known warmer deep freezers. Don’t go near him, however much you want to help out a friend. He’ll chew you up and spit you out.”

       “So when did you go out with him?” I asked bluntly, resenting her preconception that I couldn’t handle myself.

       Fiona obviously hadn’t counted on my shrewdness. How frustrating. I just wanted an impartial opinion, and here was yet another rejectee. “Two months ago,” she admitted with a sigh. “I thought everything was great. We were friends for ages first, and it was so good being with him. Until he introduced me to some bint as his new girlfriend.”

       Ouch. I could see him doing it as well, a sly malicious gleam in those frost-blue eyes.
“Fee,” he’d have drawled lightly. “Have you met Tamara? My new girlfriend? Tamara, meet Fiona, my ex-girlfriend. I expect you have plenty in common. God, Fee, you don’t look well.”

       I hid my shudder of revulsion. Now wasn’t the time to mention my minor obsession with him. “He’s evil through and through,” Fiona was telling me. I eyed the carrot cake she had vacuumed at the speed of light. I wanted to tell her comfort eating would not make things better, but didn’t fancy being punched. “He bleeds you dry emotionally, then he starts on your mates.”

       Ha! I’d love to see Pierce try to start on me. Well he kind of had already… Fiona’s eyes narrowed instantly. “Did you find that funny?”

       “No,” I said hastily. “I was just thinking of something else.”

       Hell, what was I doing? He was Satan on earth. All I really wanted someone to do was to tell me that what I was feeling was entirely natural. That he could be a decent guy when he wasn’t dumping girls for not kneeling at the right time, or upsetting my best mate, or hung over. I mean, someone loved Hitler, right? I justified it, like I did most of my obsessions, by my minor brush with death at the age of sixteen. Meningitis nearly got the better of me and after nearly a month in hospital, I took the option of not feeling sorry for myself, but if I wanted something to go and get it. How I’d translated that philosophy to a bloke…
Such
a bloke… I should be ashamed.

       The good thing about university had to be the gossip. Everyone knew everyone else’s business, even when they weren’t supposed to know anything of the sort. There was a book for all sorts —pregnancies, break-ups, random hook-ups. Our resident bookie was called Phil. For instance, I knew that a total idiot called Michael Pratt (honest to God, that’s his name) had a tenner on getting it on with the rather beauteous Phoebe Marschall. Phoebe was my roommate, and I had a twenty that she’d kick his head in before she’d let his knob anywhere near her.

       Fiona looked at me oddly. “You know Phil’s started on Toni and West. He thinks they’ll be done by the end of the year.”

       “Phil knows zero,” I said furiously. “Toni and West are Mr. and Mrs. Charlton Heston. He’s convinced I’m a lesbian, for one.” It should have been a honking great sign that Phil was utterly obtuse. At college, I was called Cari Man-Trap. So I’ve had a few lovers. Told you. Life. Short. Want. Get. Done. Is that really a huge issue? Although I’d promised I wouldn’t go over eight, and then… well, stuff happened. Like university and dang, it was like a Garden of Eden of beautiful boys.

       My mother thought I was a little uptight because I hadn’t introduced her to any boyfriends. It was my own fault. If I had told her about Jude Lawrence (close but no) and my seventeenth birthday, opinions would be markedly different. I had him right after his rather useful affair with an older woman. I praised her teaching skills, given the horror virginity stories I’d heard. It all went downhill with Jude when his mother wanted to “upgrade” by moving the family to Kent. Seriously, who wants to live in Kent?

       Sorry, tangent. Back to Pierce. He wasn’t anywhere near this much effort, he wasn’t that hot. It certainly wasn’t worth watching Fiona Gray stuff yet another Mars bar into her face. So he did funny things to my tummy when I thought about him. So he made the hair on the back of my neck stand up like when you hear an amazing song for the first time. He was such a bastard, though, but you had to love the bad ones in order to appreciate the good ones,
ne c’est pas
? Like Jude Lawrence. I missed him. Wonder what he’s doing now… I made a mental note to stalk him later on today.

       “So, leave him out,” Fiona mumbled conclusively. “West’ll understand. Pierce is his best mate. Why aren’t you talking to West about this?”

       Touchy sodding subject? “I wanted an impartial opinion. Besides, if I asked he’d draw conclusions. Unwanted ones. Two plus two equals a couple type conclusions.”

       “You and Pierce?” Fiona laughed heartily. “You’ll kill each other. I wouldn’t bother, Cari. You’re not his type. I mean a) you seem too strong minded, and b) he’s colder than Antarctica in mid-winter.”

       “Don Freezer,” I quipped.

       “Cari.” Fiona pointed her dessert fork at me. “With your face and your figure you can go for anyone else. You could have anyone you wanted.”

       “Fiona.” I gave a mocking laugh, despite the compliment. “I do not want to go out with Pierce. I just want to understand him better. And it doesn’t seem like anyone does understand him.”

       I shrugged off my thoughtful mood to prepare for Kate Farrell’s birthday. For want of any essays to write and ignoring the ever-growing list of documents to read through, I turned up in a wickedly cut halter neck which did a Grecian drape so low between my breasts, I used double-sided tape to make sure I didn’t flash all my friends when shaking my ass to David Guetta. To tame it down, I tugged on skinny jeans and gladiator heels that would give me all of two hours’ dancing before they would make me want to cut my feet off
á la Saw
. I met up with several people I adored and decided to have a bloody good time.

       Until Pierce walked in. Him and a stream of wide-eyed lovelies. I sent him a look of pure distaste and thought if I ignored him he’d go away. My luck was never that good, you should know.