Текст книги "Seduce Me"

Автор книги: Georgia Le Carre

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

Twenty-seven

I take the Tuesday afternoon off and spend the afternoon naked and sprawled on Vann’s day bed. As he paints me I watch him. He pouts when he paints. His concentration and dedication to his art is such that I am no longer a person, but an object. But when he finishes, smelling of turpentine and paints, he walks up to me, and with dark, passionate eyes, ravishes me. And each time he has found me ready, a match for his rough needs. I enjoy lying here, my mind drifting, his eyes on me. Being the object of his total attention. My phone rings. Without shifting my body I twist my eyeballs in the direction of the phone.

Lana.

I sit up. Vann frowns.

‘I’ve got to take this.’

‘Julie?’

She sounds panicked. ‘Yeah…’

‘Listen. I don’t want you to panic or anything, but Jack has been wounded.’

My bottom drops out of my world. ‘What?’

‘He’s all right. Blake has flown him back home. He’s been shot, but he’s all right. He will be all right. He’s in hospital now. And he’s being taken care of by the best doctors. Would you like to see him?’

‘Of course.’ My voice trembles with emotion. She gives me the address.

I end the call and look at Vann. He is staring at me with a look of almost fear in his eyes. ‘What is it?’

‘It’s Jack. He’s been hurt. He’s in hospital. I have to go and see him.’

I jump up from the day bed. Vann has my wrist in his hand. ‘I’ll drive you there.’

I look at him. That sounded fucked up. I experience a pang of guilt. Oh God. I love Jack. What the hell am I doing with this guy? While I have been fucking him and enjoying myself, poor Jack could have died. I step away from him as if he is the Devil himself. I can’t help it. ‘No, you can’t come with me. I couldn’t bear it. I feel bad enough as it is.’

He pales. ‘You haven’t done anything wrong.’

I feel tears start rolling down my face. ‘Yes, I have, but that’s not important now.’ I pick up my robe, shrug into it, and run out of his studio.

The journey to the hospital is one of the worst I have ever had. I should have asked Lana how bad Jack was, where he had been wounded, but I didn’t at that moment because I was so shocked, and now I am stuck in the Underground with no reception.

When I get to the hospital, Lana is waiting for me. The sight of her standing there doesn’t make me angry; in fact, I feel glad that she is there. I run to her and throw my arms around her. I want to sob, but I can’t.

‘How bad is he?’

‘He was shot in the shoulder, and he lost a lot of blood. He could have died, but he didn’t. Blake got him out of there in time.’ She shakes her head. ‘I didn’t know. Blake had a detail on him the whole time.’

My mouth drops open. ‘Why?’

‘Because he is my best friend.’

I separate from her and sit down on one of the plush chairs. Such a love. Such a love. Even with the addictive foot massages and all the techniques, will Jack ever love me like that? I close my eyes. I feel cold.

‘Would you like something to drink?’

I nod. ‘Coffee.’ I never drink coffee, but I feel like it. I watch Lana walk up to the counter and ask for some coffee. I had thought it would be a vending machine affair, the way it is at the hospitals I go to, but an orderly comes with a trolley, a coffee pot, two proper cups, sugar bowl, milk jug and a plate of biscuits on a tray.

I take the coffee, the cup rattles on the saucer. I take a sip and feel sick. I return the coffee to the tray.

I swallow hard.

‘When can we see him?’

‘Now. Come.’

She takes off down a corridor and at a door, stops and pushes it open. We go in. The first thing I notice is how pale he is and the second thing I notice is the way his eyes fly to Lana first and then come to rest on me.

‘Hi, Julie.’

‘Hi, Jack.’ I walk up to the bed. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘I’ll live.’

I feel Lana’s hand on my arm and I am propelled forward. She pushes me into a chair beside the bed. ‘I’ll leave you two for a minute. I have to call Blake,’ Lana says, and walks to the door. And I experience the strangest sensation. I don’t want Lana to leave. I don’t want to be left alone with Jack. Probably the guilt. Because of what I have been doing with Vann. All the dirty things I have been doing with Vann. The way I take Vann’s cock in my mouth and the pleasure I get from sucking it until he spurts his hot cum in my mouth.

‘So what have you been up to?’

Shame flushes my face.

His eyebrows rise. ‘So what have you been up to?’

‘Nothing. How did it happen?’

He looks away from me towards the window. ‘I was careless.’ His voice is flat, far away.

‘Are you going back?’

‘No.’

‘Thank God. It’s too dangerous out there. You could have died.’

‘I could have, but I didn’t.’

The way he says it shocks me. Makes me think that he would have preferred to die.

I open my mouth to say something, what, I don’t know, and the door opens and his mother walks in. She does not see me; instead she rushes to the bedside with a sob. Jack puts his arm on her hand, and I stand up and walk out. Outside I feel lost. I am not sure which end of the corridor will lead me out of the place. I go down one direction and it leads to a dead end so I turn back. I don’t see Lana anywhere so I go into the lift and out of the hospital. Outside the light seems too bright, the noise level too high. I look up and see two very fat pigeons sitting on a roof. I head for the Tube station. I feel shattered. A text message comes through on my mobile phone. Vann. I don’t even open it.

When I unlock the door to my room and open it, I am oddly shocked by my own room. How pink and childish it is. It is the room of a five-year-old child. I think of the red satin sheets I have ordered from the Internet. I wanted silk but they were too expensive, so I settled for satin. Vann will wonder what they are about when they arrive at his place. Will he know to put them on his bed or will he leave them unopened?

I look at the wall full of Jack’s photos with surprise. He looks more alive in these two-dimensional photos than he did in the hospital. I remember his saying, ‘I could have, but I didn’t.’ What has happened to my Jack? And the despair and grief in his eyes as he turned away from me and stared unseeingly out of the window.

I go and lie on my bed and look at a pink rabbit that I have had for years. What the hell was I thinking of? It is so fucking ugly.

That night there are no stars in the sky. Jack is in London, anyway. I think of Vann in his empty flat. And I feel sad. I won’t go back to him again.

I’ve fucked up. I’ve fucked up big time.

Twenty-eight

‘Ouch!’ I cry, and drop the rose stalk. I bring my finger to my mouth and suck it.

‘Are you worryin’ about your boy in hospital?’ calls Ziporrah from the front of the shop.

‘He’s not in hospital anymore. He insisted on checking himself out,’ I mumble automatically, and then I take my finger out of my mouth and look at it. I was not thinking of Jack. A drop of blood grows on the surface of my skin. I stare at it without really seeing it.

At that moment I feel as if I had been walking on a road and all of a sudden the road had stopped and I was standing at the lip of an abyss. When I look back the road that seemed so clear minutes ago is dissolving into nothing.

There is no road! There never was a road.

I finish de-thorning the roses, cut the stems diagonally, put them into the metal bucket and store the bucket in a dark corner. Then I clear the tabletop and leave the cool dim back for the sunlit shop. Ziporrah is adding calla lilies into a sophisticated red and dark pink arrangement.

‘Zip, do you mind if I leave a little early?’

‘How early?’

‘Like, now?’

‘It’s Friday, but we got no deliveries scheduled so I suppose you can.’

‘Thanks Zip. I’ll make it up next week.’

Ziporrah waves her arms. ‘Go, go, go see him.’

I take my mobile out of my apron pocket and dial Jack’s number. Jack answers on the first ring. He sounds grumpy.

‘Jack, can I come round and see you?’

‘I guess so,’ he agrees reluctantly.

‘Great. See you in twenty minutes.’

Jack’s mother opens the door.

‘Oh, it’s you,’ she says. I can’t really blame her. I have, over the years, made a pest of myself.

She ushers me into her living room and scuttles back in the direction of the kitchen. Jack is stretched out on his mother’s sofa reading a spy thriller. He puts his book down and I find myself a seat opposite him.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Bored sick.’

I don’t beat about the bush. I don’t have time. ‘Jack, will you kiss me?’

He shrinks like a touch-me-not. ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, Julie, come off it. We’ve been through this before.’

‘It’s not what you think.’

‘No?’

‘No. It’s not a sexual thing.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, really. Just consider it as an experiment. You can close your eyes.’ I pause. ‘You can pretend I’m someone else.’

‘Why?’

‘I just need to know something and I won’t know it until I kiss you.’

‘OK.’

I grin and stand up. I walk over to the sofa and kneel beside him. He turns his face towards me.

‘Ready?’

‘Don’t talk. Just fucking do it,’ he growls.

I lean my palms on either side of him, careful not to touch his body, and gently put my lips on his and close my eyes. His mouth opens and, you know I don’t really like cussing, but fuck me, this guy can kiss. His kiss has bells and whistles, and a rounded tongue that expertly snakes around mine, hooks then pulls it into his mouth, and gently sucks it. I feel myself getting lost in the sheer beauty of his kiss. It is romantic and sexy, the way I always think kissing a film star might feel, but raw sexual heat—nada, neinte, zilch, rien. Nothing, nothing, nothing. I move my head away.

He is looking at me expectantly. ‘Well?’ Nothing for him and nothing for me.

‘Thanks, Jack. You’ve been a great help.’ I grab his cheeks between my palms and smack my lips loudly on his forehead. ‘Got to go. Get well soon,’ I say and I run out of the door.

Outside I am so exhilarated I want to jump up and scream. How could I even have thought that what I had with Vann could be replicated with anyone else? Only now I realize how special is the chemistry I share with him.

I rush home, call a greeting out to my mum and run up the stairs. I close the door, look at the wall of Jacks and laugh. What a total fool I have been. I’ve been so focused on being in love with Jack that I did not even realize that I’ve fallen in love with Vann. I change into my red dress, the one Vann loves, apply a layer of red lipstick and I run out of my home.

At the Tube station I cannot help smiling to myself. At my stupidity. At my happiness. I imagine what Vann will do. I know he likes me. I know he likes me a lot. I smile foolishly. An elderly woman meets my eyes and lets hers slide away quickly.

‘It’s OK, I’m not mad. I just found out I’m in love,’ I tell her.

She smiles. It is not a London fuck off and leave me the fuck alone smile. It is from the heart.

I open the door of the building Vann lives in and run to the lift. At the lift my bag catches on the stair banister. My bag falls, opens, things spill out. I crouch down to pick them up.

Fate is a strange thing.

Whether you turn right or left when you walk out of your front door can change your life forever. I don’t know how the future might have played out if my bag had not caught and the contents spilled out. But those few seconds meant I look up and see Lana coming through the doors. She appears distracted. She sees me and comes up to me.

‘Hi, Julie. Are you coming or going?’

What, I wonder, would have happened if I had said coming? Instead I say, ‘Going.’

She looks relieved. ‘Shall we do lunch sometime next week?’

I feel anger in the pit of my stomach. What the hell are you doing here? Is the billionaire not enough for you? This is my man.

‘Yes, let’s.’ I press the lift button. The doors open immediately.

She steps in. The cheek of the woman. She smiles at me. I smile back automatically, but fucking hell is she having an affair with my man? The doors close on her and as if I have winged ankles I race up five flights of stairs. I stand at the fire door, breathing hard.

When I get my breath back, which occurs surprisingly fast, I march down the corridor. I take my shoes off and turning my key, quietly slip into Vann’s apartment. I tiptoe to a little alcove that leads into the living room, and crouching behind a cupboard watch them. What I hear is nothing like what I had expected!

‘I love him so much. I just want to help, but he won’t tell me anything,’ Lana is saying. Her voice sounds distraught and desperate.

‘It is not because he does not want to tell you. Nothing that happens in the circle can be told outside it.’

She paces agitatedly, coming in and out of my line of vision. ‘Can he step out of the circle?’

‘There is no escape. The circle has no end. Besides, he would not want to. Coming out would put you and Sorab in grave danger. He makes his sacrifice gladly.’

‘Can I enter the circle?’ Her voice is a whisper, full of terror. It makes my hair stand on end.

Vann’s reply is instantaneous. ‘Never.’

What the hell are they talking about? Suddenly, I remember the crazy notes I saw about the brotherhood of El. And the unbelievable things that Victoria had screamed about.

‘What must I do then?’ Lana asks desperately.

‘The fight between good and evil is as old as time. It will never be won by either side. Involving yourself will bring great personal loss to you.’

‘Should I do nothing, then?’

‘No matter what you do, the brotherhood will carry on holding their great balls for El. You will not be invited. Neither will I. Blake will always be invited as an honored guest, but he won’t go… Because of you. Because of your love for him from outside the circle.’

‘Loving him from outside the circle doesn’t stop the nightmares.’

‘Nightmares?’

‘Every once in a while when he has had a particularly stressful day he has a nightmare. Then he screams out in the voice of child. He told me that the memory is blur and dream-like, but when he was a small boy he took part in a ritual and killed another child.’

‘The first rule of control is to hijack history.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Blake didn’t kill anyone. The child that is being programmed usually never does. It just wakes up alone from a drugged state with a bloodied knife and a dead child. And then it screams and whimpers for its mother for hours.’

‘How do you know this?’

‘Because when I was seven years old I stumbled upon the ritual. I accidentally got locked in the same room where the ceremony was being performed. I saw what they did. I saw his little body stiffen up when he was being stabbed. I felt dirty for not looking away. When they left it I sat frozen for hours. When the other boy awakened and began to scream I wanted to come out and comfort him, but even then I knew that if I showed myself I was dead, and the instinct for self-preservation is strong even in a child. But the shock was incredible. It changed me. The world became a frightening place. There was no one I could trust after that. I always knew they did that to both Marcus and Blake.’

‘They never did it to you?’

‘No. I was never the right material. They choose their victims very carefully.’

‘How do they choose them?’

‘That knowledge will not serve you.’

‘Is there anything else you can tell me?’

‘The rest cannot be told. Only remember that they want you to believe he is like them, but he is not. He never has been and he never will be.’

‘I’ve been doing some research on them, and—’

‘Don’t.’

‘Don’t what?’

‘Stay away from them. They have existed from time immemorial. They will be here when you and I are gone. You cannot defeat them. When you gaze at something long enough you become it. Even what you fight, you become. Keep away from it. Stay pure. What they hate more than anything else is a pure heart. When you are pure they cannot touch you. And the longer that Blake gazes at you, the purer he, too, will become. You are not here to take them on. You are here to protect your son and every child that your charity can reach. Go and tell Blake he did nothing wrong.’

‘I will.’ Lana walks up to him and, standing on tiptoes, kisses him on his cheek. ‘Thank you, Vann.’

He says nothing, simply looks at her kindly.

She goes to leave and then turns back towards him. ‘Have you told Julie who you are?’

‘No.’

‘She may seem like an air-head sometimes, but you can trust her. I would.’

She walks to the door. When the door clicks shut I come out of my hiding place and stand in the entrance of the room.

‘Who are you?’ I ask, but I already know. Of course, I know. It should have been obvious to anyone with eyes. I should have known from the first day.

Invictus

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

–William Ernest Henley

Twenty-nine

I, Quinn Adam Barrington

‘You’re Blake’s brother, aren’t you?’ she accuses, her voice, a shocked whisper.

She is wearing scarlet. I love her in scarlet. I can hardly remember her from the days she used to dress in shades of pink. She has changed so much. Her hair is loose and she is wearing red lipstick. In the glow of the light from the lampshade her creamy skin glows with the luminescence of the polished ivory sword handle that had hung in my father’s study.

She is my beautiful love. My heart feels heavy. Why didn’t I tell her myself? Something has always held me back. I know why. I know exactly why.

I incline my head. ‘At your service.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

I shrug. To tell her would be to leave me defenseless.

She smiles suddenly, brightly, and advances into the room. ‘It doesn’t matter, I realized today that I love you,’ she says excitedly.

I freeze. I actually freeze. Now I know why I never told her. But I thaw surprisingly fast. There is no pain. Maybe later. Definitely later, I will think of those words and how much I wanted them to be true. Now I am like the man whose shoulder is inside the lion’s jaws. The pain is so great that shock cracks a whip, and a weird flat state of being takes over; it is notable only for its total absence of pain. I always knew she was shallow, but this shallow? Not even I could have expected that.

‘Why? Because I am not from a family of servants you have suddenly decided that you love me.’ My voice is bitter. I have never heard it so. So much about me she has brought forth.

She frowns then turns white. ‘You heard us.’

‘Yeah. I came to say goodbye, but after hearing how scornfully you dismissed me just because you thought I was the son of a servant, I walked away.’

She licks her lips. Her eyes turn desperate. I look at them emotionlessly, curiously. How far will she go?

‘It’s not what you think,’ she pleads. ‘I knew I loved you before I figured out that you are Blake’s brother.’

I raise a disbelieving eyebrow.

‘I came here to tell you.’ Her voice is rising, desperate.

I say nothing. I wanted her to love me for myself. Not for my family name. But I have been living in a fool’s paradise for the last few weeks. I so much wanted to believe that she is more, that she could be more. But what I feared most has happened.

‘You have to believe me.’

‘And what about Jack?’

‘I realized that I didn’t love him this afternoon and that is why I came here.’

‘What an amazing coincidence.’

‘I’m telling the truth, Vann… I mean…Quinn.’

Wow, she is a really good actress. ‘Don’t call me that.’

‘Why don’t you want to be known as a Barrington?’

‘I wanted to be recognized as an artist, purely for my talent, not because of my surname and heritage.’ I’ll never tell her the real reason why I don’t want to be associated with the name.

‘I love you.’

I laugh. ‘Well, I don’t. We had a good time and now it is over. I’m leaving at the end of the week.’

She takes a step back as if I have slapped her. Her eyes become huge. She is right though, they are not green. Flecks of gold and brown in them. They are only green when passion comes into her body.

‘You’re leaving?’ she gasps. Her mouth remains open. This is not acting. This she did not expect.

‘Yup. I’m done here.’

For a few more seconds she simply stares at me. I long to cross the space and hold her, but I don’t. I stare at her, my beautiful Sugar. Then she turns around and runs from me. She doesn’t slam the door, but closes it quietly with a click.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I stand there, my thoughts a mess. Some part of me tells me to go after her. Let things carry on as before. But another part of me knows that it can never be like it was before, and whatever we have will be a pale imitation of what I really want. It is for the best. I don’t want her to pretend to love me. I need to be free of the long shadow cast by Jack. A song is playing in my head. Mama, take this badge off me. I can’t use it anymore. I feel like I’m knocking on heaven’s door. Knock, knockin…

The phone rings.

I answer it and listen as Blake explains that he has ordered Croix, my dealer, to put a minimum price on the paintings: £150,000 on the smaller ones, £250,000 on the two larger pieces. These giddy prices… The arrogance is breathtaking.

Abyssus abssum invocat: one hell summons another.

Here it goes again—the meme that money is absolutely everything. I am reminded of Munch’s Scream. His terrible visions, profound insight and his shudder of despair at the human condition reduced to a price tag: 120 million dollars. The hollowness had chilled me then. And it chills me now.

In ordinary circumstances I would have gone mad, told my brother to fuck off, stay out of my business. But today it doesn’t matter. I don’t actually care one way or another.

‘Nobody will buy them at those prices,’ I say quietly.

‘I am the back-up buyer at those prices.’

There is a brief pause when we are both silent.

‘You are the artist. I am the businessman. Leave me to decide what the market can afford. The perception of value is everything. If a Barrington wants to acquire the entire collection…

‘You haven’t seen it yet.’

‘Is it any good?’

‘The best thing I have done in my life.’ I slept with my muse, you see.

‘That’s good enough for me.’

‘See you tomorrow at seven thirty?’

‘See you then.’

‘Oh, do you need us to pick Julie up?’

And suddenly the pain hits. Right in the solar plexus. Oh fuck. Later has come.

‘Yeah.’

‘Right. I’ll get Lana to arrange it with her. See you then.’

The phone hits the wall so hard it smashes into pieces. I stand with my back to the glass wall and look around me. Here, I have been truly happy. I go to the kitchen and open the fridge. That habit of hers, leaving a half-drunk glass of orange juice in the fridge. I take it, find the imprint of her mouth and drink a mouthful of juice. The juice is cold and for some reason tasteless. I leave it on the counter. I need a real drink. I reach for the bottle of beer and stop. I don’t want beer. I’d like to get smashed on a whole bottle of cognac, the kind my granddad used to drink. I close the fridge and I go up to my studio.

At the threshold I stand and look at the empty place. By now, all the paintings are probably being unpacked and the perfect wall to hang them on being decided upon. I go towards my easel, my paints and my brushes. They have comforted me in other times of pain. But not pain like this. I walk to the unfinished canvas on the easel and look at it. There she is smiling mysteriously at me. I put my palm on her mouth and drag it down the canvas. The wet paint smears downwards. I take a rag and wipe my hand and walk to the tap. I watch the water running and realize that the large ceramic sink is totally out of place in this state-of-the-art apartment. It occurs to me that Blake had it installed.

He wanted it to be like my studio in Paris. He went to a lot of trouble, quietly. But I have never appreciated him. I wash my hands and go downstairs, cross the silent, empty space and enter the bedroom. The bed is unmade. I go to Julie’s side and smell the pillow. There’s her scent. Is it mango or coconut shampoo that she uses? I lay my head on the pillow.

My eyes fall on the lap dancer’s pole. As if the scales have fallen off my eyes, I understand now that the previous tenant didn’t decide to leave, he was told to leave, or rather given an inducement to leave. In his hurry to accept, he left the pole behind.

She was practicing her dance for me. I will never see it now. I stand and, like a man in a daze, go to it. At the level of her crotch I sniff it, but it smells of metal and lemon polish. I let myself lie on the floor and stare at the ceiling. For a while there is the sensation that I am the last man on earth.

That I am totally alone.