Yours Truly (37 page)

“
Put down the knife then!
”
he laughs, eyeing the massive vegetable knife in my hand with a comedy horror expression.

He picks up a couple of
un
chopped carrots from the table and hands me one of them.

“
Your microphone, Miss Butterworth. I’ll be Sam. You can be Kevin.
”

“
I can’t believe you know their names!
”
I chuckle.
“
No one actually ever knew their names!
”

“
I think you’re underestimating the number of Color Me Badd fans out there, of which I was numero uno.
”

“
Loser! All right then, which one is the lead singer? I want to be that one.
”

“
That’s Sam. I’m being Sam. I bagsied Sam.
”

I tut.
“
But
-
”

“
I’m
teaching you,
I
get to be Sam. Come on. The song'll be over soon.
”

And so, with carrots as microphones, Riley and I sway and twist and on occasion thrust our way through
I Wanna Sex You Up
. Riley‘s size doesn‘t quite lend itself to graceful movement and it’s already common knowledge that my dancing is really crap, so we just end up tripping up (me) a
nd laughing hard at each other’s
dud moves.

The playlist
runs into three more ninetie
s R&B songs, each one having a very specific dance according to Riley. He teaches me the moves to
Jump Jump
by Kriss Kross,
Hold On
by En Vogue and
This Is How We Do It
by Montell Jordan. I’m aware that he’s making each dance up, and something about his camp moves and willingness to embarrass himself in order to make me laugh just endears me to him even more.

“
You daft sod,
”
I chuckle, brushing the hair from out of my face.

“
You
joined in!
”
Riley admonishes, shaking his head.

The song changes. It's the super sexy, slow
You’re Making Me High
by Toni Braxton. The mood changes instantly. I try to jolly it back up again by singing along in my terrible voice but it doesn’t work and Riley is looking at me with that desirous expression in his eyes.

Like peculiar human shaped magnets we edge towards each other.

Are we really going to do this?

That question, alongside
Has he sorted out things with Honey?
and
Which knickers do I have on
? are jostling for attention inside my brain, willing me to pay it attention, but I'm unable to focus on my brain. I can only focus on my body. My body that's already singing like a canary.

“
Again? Now?
”
I manage to choke out just before Riley's hands weave up into my hair, sending a sweet shiver down my spine.

He answers me with a half grin and starts to pull up my top. Dazed by his touch, I reach behind me to lock the door, and right there by the fridge without any consideration for what is right and wrong, we make love.

TEXT MESSAGE FROM: MEG

Grt time recording. I've got something to tell you. I know this is a tease but wait until you hear, you won't believe it.

I'm in the bath. I'm having a bath and considering the fact that it has taken only one day for me to become a woman of loose morals. There is no question about it. What I am doing is sexually acting out. Sex three times in less than twenty four hours is something I have never done in my life. Cripes, sex three times in a
week
was an occurrence as regular as a solar eclipse. And the worst thing about it is... I want more. Man oh man. I want more of this sex with Riley, because - and I've never really known this before - it really is bloody marvellous. Everything is louder and brighter and in sharper contrast. I almost feel sorry for myself that I didn't know about this before!

Riley's back in the kitchen clearing up the pots and pans from what ended up being a most distracted cooking session in which only one dish
- the Granny's Soup - was finished. And even though my hair is full of foam and the bath water has left mascara streaks down my face, I'm trying to send him a telepathic message.

“
Come to my rooooom...
join me in the baaath...
”

Jeez.

I don't know. Perhaps the horn attacking Riley and I is purely circumstantial; I'm stressed about my break-up and the whole mind control thing, and Riley is stressed about the pub. Maybe what's happening is that we are recognising that stress in one another and using sex as a distraction technique.

I ponder this for a few seconds before realising that it's bullshit.

The simple truth of the matter is this; We Fancy Each Other. I've never fancied anyone so much in my life. And the way he looks at me? I'm pretty sure he's never fancied anyone that much either.
It feels good. Even the truth-
telling feels good right now. Like I'm free. I can't hide anything anymore so why even try? It could be rather a lot of fun this way...

I giggle to myself and duck my head underneath the water. I burst back up when I hear a knock on the door.

I jump out of the bath
- gleefully ignoring the tidal wave that slops over the sides of the bath - and wrap a fluffy blue towel around myself, leaving my hair to drip water sexily onto my shoulders.

What?

Meg's recording with Jasper and
Dionne's not speaking to me - it's got to be Riley!

I drop the towel slightly so that it reveals a bit more of my glistening skin and pull open the door with what I hope is an alluring grin. Only it's not Riley. It's Honey, and before I have chance to haul the towel back up, say hello or blink even, she leaps into my room, slams the door shut behind her, scrambles up and punches me in the neck.

Ow.

I'm having a fight. After twenty seven years of successful conflict avoidance I am now having a real, authentic fight. I've only ever seen real fights on Jerry Springer or once in Asda when these two women went into combat over the last reduced price cinnamon swirl, so I don't quite know what I'm supposed to do.

After grabbing my arm and performing an unfeasibly painful mini pinch twist with her pincer like fingers, Honey grabs onto my hair and pulls. Only my hair is wet and her hand is unable to get a grip and slithers away. She stumbles backwards with the force of the botched hair yank and bounces off the wardrobe, snarling with sound effects. Oh crap. What has happened to her? Her floaty, tranquil composure has done a runner. She looks feverish. Her perfect hair is all mussed up and I'm quite sure that that is spittle resting on the corner of her mouth.

Balls. I knew she was a lunatic. The signs have been there all along! While Honey recovers from the wardrobe bounce I see an opportunity for escape. I waddle very quickly backwards and reach out for the bathroom door behind me. My heart pummels loudly in my ears as I push down the handle and dive inside, noticing Honey's look of surprise as I do so. I lock the bathroom door behind me and rest my head on the tiled wall.

The bathroom is so steamy that it's impossible to see anything, but even without looking in the mirror I'm pretty sure that my expression is one of simple, unadulterated terror. Man, I'm a yellow belly.

“
Come out of there! I know what's been going on.
”
Honey yaps from the other side of the door.
“
Come out and fa
ce the music, you sneaky bitch.
”
This time, her growls are accompanied by the sound of tiny fists pummelling at the door.

Jeez. I
have
to open the door. This is stupid. I can't stay locked in the bathroom. But I don't want to go out there either. I'm scared!

“
I'll come out,
”
I call, my voice all wibbly.
“
But you have to promise, no violence! Violence is not the answer.
”

There're a few minutes of silence and then.
“
Fine. No violence.
”

Hands shaking, I pull open the door and step out. Honey is sat on the end of my bed, her hands folded gracefully in her lap.

“
Put some clothes on, sweetie,
”
she says, looking me up and down disdainfully.

“
I'm so sorry,
”
I say, s
hame colouring my cheeks.
“
I know
you've only just split up and -
”

“
Split up,
”
she hisses.
“
Riley and I are as
together as ever.
”
She pats her hair and smiles serenely.

My stomach lurches.

“
Um. What? No, he told me
-
”

“
He lied. He’s so stressed right now. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.
”

“
No
,
he defin-
”

“
Oh, Natalie. Natalie, Natalie, Natali
e.
”
She gets up and starts to walk around the room. It's creepy. Why is she saying these things about Riley? He very clearly told me he had split up with her. That it had been on the cards for a while.

“
You're lying,
”
I say lifting my chin up stubbornly.

For a moment I kid myself that if he'd still been with Honey I wouldn't have done anything with him. But deep inside I know that's not true. I couldn't help myself.

“
You're as stupid as that sister of yours. Though she does have her uses, telling me all about you and Riley. Idiot. Can you believe she felt bad for me?
”
She rolls her eyes giving a tinkly little laugh.

“
Yes, I can believe that, so shut up,
”
I snap. No one talks about my sister that way.

“
You
really
think he wants you?
”

“
Yes
,
”
I say at once.

“
A meek little nobody who thinks she's under a magic spell? A girl who wears those horrible cheap trainers and a puffa jacket
?
”

“
Yeah
. He said that we -
”

“
He's usi
ng you, sweetie. Can't you see?
”

I fiddle with the corner of the towel, wishing desperately that I had some clothes on.

“
What? How? I don't know what you’re
talking about.
”

Honey's eyes glint maliciously. Wow. She is horrible! Clearly unhinged in some way.

“
He needs a chef.
”

“
So?
”

“
He needs a chef who will stick around here and work for free.
”

I screw my eyes up. What is she going on about?

“
Deary me!
”
She rolls her eyes.
“
Sweetie. All Riley cares about is his precious little pub,
the only legacy his family has
. He'll do anything to keep it. Including sleeping with a skank so that she'll stay and do his bidding. He thought he'd hit the jackpot when you wandered in here with your slutty friend.
”

I shake my head, unable to believe that she's spouting such ridiculous lies.

“
I knew about it,
”
she says, taking a pot of vanilla lip balm from her cardigan pocket and dabbing it on.
“
Please, I helped him to plan it. I just didn't expect him to go as far as to sleep with you, but that's for Riley and I to discuss. He really does
love
the Old Whimsy. It's worth an awful lot of money you know.
”

I don't know what to say to her. I can't help but tell the truth but my bullshit detectors are apparently weaker than Charlie Sheen's morals.

“
You don't believe me?
”
she says, her perfectly shaped red eyebrows arching upwards.

“
No.
”