Breaking Joseph Read online

  “Only she’s still in contact with him, apparently,” Joseph said. “So you could be forgiven for suspecting that she was lying again.”

  “And you’re leaving? Why are you leaving?” said Matt.

  My resolve broke and my shoulders lurched in on themselves. “I just am.”

  “Why are you talking to my stepdad, Leila?” He pressed. “Why–”

  “That’s enough. You can go now.” Joseph flicked a hand at Matt and he rose, almost snarling at me as he swaggered out. He slammed the door in temper and it echoed around the office, fading to silence as if sucked into a closing fist.

  “Are you happy now?” Weak little words, contemptuous, embarrassing.

  “I’m going to give you one more chance to tell me what you’re doing,” he said quietly. Too quietly. “Please, Leila. Don’t make this worse than it already is. You know I have to investigate. You’ll have wasted these past two years.”

  My mouth wouldn’t open. I wanted desperately to sob on him and dangerous truths swarmed on my tongue.

  “Is this to do with your other job? Is that what you’re going to do? You can’t just be swanning off to nothing.” There was an undercurrent of worry in his voice, a reluctant staccato, and I could have kissed him for it. If only.

  “No,” I lied.

  Silence, again.

  He kneaded the top of his chair until his knuckles turned white. “I told you to be honest. Why won’t you do that for me? I earned that, didn’t I? For fuck’s sake.”

  “You did.” I gulped. “Earn it, that is.” And he didn’t deserve this, not like me. “I’m…I’m sorry.”

  “Well then.” He folded stiff arms. “You’ve got ten minutes to clear your desk. Security will escort you from the building.” Another pause. He cleared his throat. “I’ll have your things sent over.”

  Those would be the clothes and books I’d left strewn across his bedroom floor, now artefacts from our extinct affair.

  I gripped the arms of the chair as I wobbled on my heels. Just standing up had never been such an effort. “I really am sorry.” I still couldn’t face those eyes.

  He turned to stare out the window. “If I find out that you’ve played me, you will be.”

  I had left my bag empty that day and I swept the contents of my desk into it: photos, textbooks, snacks, doodles. Stray petals from the bouquets Joseph had sent to seduce me. Crumbs from the lunches I had shared with Matt.

  The Matt who hovered over me.

  “Why are you leaving?” he said through gritted teeth.

  I ignored him.

  “Leila.”

  I shot Poppy a glare and she shrugged, twisting the pencil that hung from her lips. I wondered if she was nervous about Matt trying to make a scene–it seemed awfully inconspicuous. Still, he had just learned about Charlie.

  “Leila!” he urged.

  “I’m not in the mood.”

  Two security guards arrived in their navy blue uniforms and they checked through my bag. I hung my head as they walked me to the lift. Was this how Bhan had felt? It was revolting.

  I’d barely stepped out of the building when I heard a haggard voice behind me.

  “Leila!” Matt shouted. It was no mean feat to take the stairs with his screwed leg. “Listen to me.” He caught my elbow and we played a little tug of war on the pavement until passing suits knocked us against the wall.

  “What do you want?” I said, exasperated.

  “Why are you leaving?”

  “You know why I’m leaving!” I swung my bag at him.

  He caught it easily, clamping it still. “What are you talking about? Do you think I’d have dragged myself out here just for the sake of it?”

  “I don’t know.” I started to walk again and he gripped my shoulder.

  People began to stare.

  “Has he fucked you over?” he said.

  “Who, Joseph? No.” I peeled his fingers away. They were cold. “But then you know that already, don’t you?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  I wanted to believe him but I couldn’t afford the trust. Besides, where else could Poppy and Isobel have gotten that picture without prompting? Nobody had more motive to give it to them than Matt.

  “Why didn’t you say that you knew Charlie?” he said. “Tell me he isn’t one of your clients. Please?”

  “Good luck in your new job,” I said quietly.

  “Don’t you fucking walk away from me!”

  But I did, and he let me. I left him reeling for the second time since we’d known each other. Before, I’d walked off to a different bed with a different man.

  Now I’d made yet another bed, and there was nothing to do but lie in it.

  Chapter 13

  On one hand, I was proud that I’d remained composed for the walk back. On the other, having to lug such a heavy bag along had served as a great distraction, and at home, I slumped my shoulders and let the nightmare sink in.

  I was no longer going to be a lawyer.

  Well, I hardly needed any of this crap.

  One by one, I launched my textbooks at the hallway mirror. The first few bounced off and made a miserable heap on the carpet. I couldn’t even trash my own flat properly.

  I grunted as I swung the next tome and the crack as it hit the glass was violent. Satisfying. So was the next. Soon, the floor was peppered with frosty shards, and the tears on my cheeks were colder still. The corpse of the mirror crunched under my heels as I staggered to the kitchen and poured myself a large glass of wine. It was ten AM.

  No point in moping. I wouldn’t succumb again. Nor would I plot the blood-sodden deaths of Poppy and Isobel, though Charlotte waved a machete and hissed through her teeth. I was knee deep in shit and no playing card was about to hand me another spade, so I did what every tax lawyer does when things went wrong: I made a spreadsheet.

  Calculation suggested about two months until my money ran out. Three at a frugal push. Then I’d still have another three months of my rent contract to pay and God knew what else. Clearly, unemployment was not an option.

  After way too much wine–to smooth my trembling voice, of course–I called a bunch of recruitment agencies. All I needed was one good appointment, and I’d find another contract. Could run away in the dust of this and hope nobody saw where I went.

  Matt kept calling and I kept ignoring him. It seemed like a good idea to just switch my phone off and avoid any mention of the past twenty-four hours.

  I was tired then. I think I fell asleep.

  * * * *

  “Lei-Lei?” A loud bang rattled my front door. “I know you’re in there, I can hear the TV!” Aidan yelled.

  I peeled my drool-soaked face off the sofa and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. Another bang! made my pulse stutter.

  “You had best not have taken any pills!” Aidan called through my letter-box. “I’m going to count to three and then I’ll have to break down the–”

  “All right.” I went to stand up, but…bleugh. The world of upright people was cold and fizzy. Better to crawl.

  I reached the door on sore knees and flicked the latch, clutching the handle as it swung open. “What do you want?”

  Aidan pulled me up by the waist. “Matt said you quit your job.” He tucked my hair behind my ears and then lurched back as I dry-retched toward him. “Jesus. Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

  I wiped my mouth. “What time is it?”

  He checked his watch. “Half seven. Lei–”

  “Fuck.” I must have knocked myself out on bad Chardonnay. Well, at least this little episode hadn’t sucked away any of my class.

  “What happened? Is everything okay? Because it does not sound okay.”

  My bleak future swam before me, panic gnashed its jaws and my whole body began to jerk. “No.” I wept. “It isn’t.”

  I can’t remember if I walked back to the sofa or if he carried me, but I sobbed into his chest for a long time. A soap on TV turned into a documentary, and then that
turned into the news. Aidan never said a word; he just stroked my back, cradling me in the crook of his arm.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Don’t be silly. Are you ready to spill?”

  “I can’t,” I croaked. “I’m not allowed.”

  “What do you mean, not allowed?”

  “They said if I told…I’m just fucked, Aid, okay? I’m fucked.” And then I started to cry again.

  “Oh, please. I won’t breathe a word, I promise. You can’t not tell anyone.” I’d never heard Aidan sound upset before. It was unnerving.

  “I can’t, I can’t.”

  “I don’t go to your office, I won’t tell Matt–”

  “Fuck Matt!” I balled my fists. “It’s his fault. Did he tell you that?”

  Aidan narrowed his eyes. “What?”

  “He helped–he was part of it. I can’t believe he’s lied to you as well.”

  “He was pretty cut up, you know. I don’t think he was putting it on.” He tipped my chin with his fingers. “Now I swear, I won’t get you into trouble. What’s happened?”

  I pulled together the words, tried to force them into sentences. Some of them snapped on the way in. “Two girls in my office…they found out I was a whore.”

  Aidan stiffened.

  “And they blackmailed me,” I sobbed. “They made me dump Joe and leave my job.”

  “God. I’m sorry.”

  “Matt gave them the photo, the one from the website. They said he did. I know he had it…”

  “I’m so sorry, baby.” He folded his arms around me and began to rock. Then his tone went sour. “Pair of fucking pus-weeping sores. What happens now?”

  “Uh. I don’t know that I’ll be able to get back into law. I’m going to try, but I won’t get a reference and I don’t know how I’d fudge it otherwise. It’d be hard to explain away the past two years.”

  “What? You gave everything up for that photo, seriously? You’re not even on the website anymore, you could have argued the toss!”

  “But it was me, and I was on the website,” I said. “If the partners believed it, how long until it ended up in the news or something, and my parents found out? It’d kill them. I have to take responsibility, Aid. I took Isobel’s boyfriend and Poppy’s job. I broke Matt’s heart and rubbed his face in it every day. I can’t argue with any of those things, when I think about it.” Charlotte could, but she was still face down in cold vomit.

  “Oh, come on.” He looked me sharply in the eye. “How was it Poppy’s job, exactly? I thought you kicked everyone’s arse to the moon there?”

  “Well, I did, mostly. But–”

  “Okay. So she was pissed that she lost out to you. So what?”

  “She talks like I got the job because I was screwing Joseph,” I said glumly, “and I suppose that might still be true.”

  “Bollocks. She was jealous,” he said. “You know how I feel about him, but I doubt he’d dip his pen in the office ink if it wasn’t the best fucking ink in the place. And as for what’s-her-face. The ex-Mrs Marquis. Are you telling me she had no idea what he was like?”

  I shrugged weakly. “I don’t know. Even if she did…I still got involved with him when I knew they were dating.”

  “And they were about to elope and make babies, were they?”

  “No.” That little image almost raised a smile. “But I have what she wants–or what she thought she wanted.”

  “Yeah, well. You’ve been underhand with her. Even I can’t deny that.” He stroked the hair from my face. “But you haven’t murdered anyone, Lei-Lei. You’ve spent a long time ignoring the fact that the men you screw probably have wives, girlfriends, whatever. It changes the way you look at things, and while that’s kinda screwed, this is disproportionate in sheer wankiness to whatever it is you’ve done.”

  I hung my head. “You think?”

  “I’m a whore too, remember. Playing for your team, biased to buggery. But Poppycock would have found another job and Ex Mrs would have found another boyfriend. Your career might not recover from this.”

  “I know,” I sniffed, and then wet tears lined my cheeks once more.

  “So you’re going to take your ginger ninja-ness and tear them a poorly-toned new one, right? One that seeps. Make them seep.”

  “Ah…”

  “Not ah. This is war. This is the fucking winter of our discontent! You pathetic–”

  “Hey! Not pathetic. I’m trying to be dignified, okay? For once.” I wiped my eyes. “If I stay quiet, I’ve got a chance of turning this around. Eventually.”

  He snorted. “You are doing this for your career, aren’t you? Not to protect that shit?”

  “Matt would get implicated too, sooner or later. All three of us might have ended up jobless.”

  “Oh, I see. I see.” He rolled his eyes. “You’re taking one for the team.”

  “It’s what whores do,” I mumbled.

  “Get a grip,” he said affectionately. “And what’s this about Mattman joining forces with the wanks of evil? He loves you.”

  “Not enough, apparently,” I wept. “I don’t know where else they could have found that photo.”

  “He sounded pretty upset on the phone. All seven times.”

  I wasn’t the only one fielding Matt’s calls, then. “You just don’t want to believe that your tortured jizzboat fantasy is also a vile betrayer.”

  Aidan wagged a finger at me. “He would not! Anyway. He mentioned something about you knowing his stepdad?”

  Space of my own was suddenly very inviting, and I pulled away. “Did I ever tell you about Charlie?”

  “No.” He crossed his legs on the sofa. “This is going to put you back in bad film territory, isn’t it?”

  Yep, should have saved some wine. “We were lovers for about five years.”

  Aidan’s eyes darted left, then right. “You and Matt’s stepdad,” he repeated.

  “I know.”

  A shocked smile cracked his face and he stared back like an evil Cheshire cat. “Charlotte,” he said. “You’re a hooker with a Charlie habit. You shameless cliché!”

  I scowled at him. “Cheers.”

  “And let me get this straight–Mattman knows nothing about it?”

  “No. Well. He knows something now,” I said drily. “I’m not planning on telling him the rest.”

  He pulled a cushion into his lap. “Is that why you dumped him?”

  “Sort of,” I admitted. “It kind of served as an excuse, actually.”

  “Jesus.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Any more skeletons in the closet, while we’re at it?”

  “Nope. You?”

  “Hundreds. But it’s your turn to look bad and I wouldn’t want to steal the limelight.” He paused, scrunching the cushion. “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know. Denial’s not really going as well as I thought it would.”

  “What about your parents?”

  I pursed my lips. “I was mostly thinking that I wouldn’t tell them at all.”

  “Oh.” He nodded sarcastically. “Yeah. Good call.”

  “Fuck off.” I tried to muster a smile through the tears, but it wouldn’t be tempted.

  Aidan patted my thigh as he hauled himself up.

  “Where are you going?” Don’t leave me! Hello, inner whiny bitch. And I used to be so hard. Ugh.

  “Shush, it’s all right.” He held his phone up. “I’m going to take myself off call and order a pizza, okay?”

  “Okay.” I pulled my knees up to my chin. “See you in a bit.”

  Chattering, he disappeared into the hall. A shower seemed like a good idea.

  Except…when I stepped into the steam, the tiles turned to Joseph’s muscled flesh and the hiss of cascading water became his breath in my ear. I’d come in to wash the day away but now I soaked in forbidden memories and murdered desires, and I felt his palms rough against my buttocks, his teeth dragging on my shoulder in his lover’s mural of bites.

&
nbsp; He had embroidered his will onto my skin. That much would heal. His words, though, had sunk deeper, little heat-seeking missiles that awaited detonation in my chest.

  It had been just a day since I was naked like this and beside him, and already, I had begun to mourn.

  By the time I emerged in my little robe, Aidan slobbed on the rug with a pizza box and an impossibly large Coke.

  “Come,” he ordered. “Gorge. You need it.”

  I sank down next to him, hair comb in hand. “I’m not really very hungry.”

  He shoved a giant wedge of ham and pineapple in my direction. “Have one slice.”

  “You were only telling me last night that I was going to get fat.”

  “Everyone gets lardy when they’re coupled up. It’s like Mother Nature saying quick, pretend you’re pregnant! He can’t leave then!”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Even for men?”

  “Beer bellies are a symbol of status.” He paused to tear off a mouthful. “Man is saying, I am repulsive, but she still wants me. That is how awesome my cock is.”

  I gave him a tearstained smile. “I’ve missed your little theories.”

  “I should write a book.” He looked half-serious. “In fact, that’s what you should do. Make some money.”

  I snorted.

  “It’d be fabulous. Lei-Lei Vaughn: Whore Today, Gone Tomorrow.”

  “You know, I think I might give that one a miss.” I nibbled at the pizza and set it down mournfully. “Can I have that pity fuck now, please?”

  “No.” He laughed. “You can’t.”

  We watched an awful romantic comedy and Aidan told me all about his Rent auditions. He worried about the amount of time it would take up–it left little room for the night job–but his excitement was infectious. Envy seeped in–his career was only just beginning, and mine looked to be on its way out.

  It was getting light outside when he took me to bed.

  I watched him slither out of his clothes. He had the grace of someone far smaller and lighter, and he folded everything into a neat pile on my stuffed chair. My shirt and skirt lay screwed up on the rug in a fitting comparison.

  “Stop looking me like that. I’m not…vulnerable,” I sulked.

  “Yes, you are.” Lying beside me, his skin felt cool on mine. “It’s quite sweet, actually.”