Duplicity. Part 3

Once I reached my usual coffee house, I was soaked and freezing. Droplets of water slid from my hairline and down my nose, and the sky showed no sign of letting up its ice cold deluge. I stopped and peered in through the rain-covered window to discover there was a ridiculously long queue, and I debated whether to risk it and join the wait for the best coffee in Edinburgh. Could I justify being even later?

Suddenly, a flash of pink caught my eye from behind the counter and it hit me. That was where I knew the girl from. The b.l.o.o.d.y coffee shop. The realisation stopped me from joining the line of dripping wet customers, and I dashed off as quickly as I could before she saw me. Although I have no clue why, my heart leapt at the thought of meeting her face to face once again. Actually, that's not entirely true. I think embarra.s.sment at my performance the previous Friday was the main factor. What the h.e.l.l must she have thought of me? And actually...why did I care what she thought? She didn't know me. I didn't know her. We were only acquainted through our shared interest in coffee. Well, me drinking it and her serving it. So why did it matter?

Thankfully, I'd seen fit in the past to ensure I had a set of towels at work. They were mainly for my post-gym shower in the days I deigned to go before work, but thanks to the heavy downpour on my way to the office, I just looked like I'd had a shower.

Once I'd dried off as much as I could, I sat behind my desk and stared at the pile of papers neatly stacked in order of importance. Where to b.l.o.o.d.y start? Do I get the longer tasks done first or tackle the quicker ones?

The intercom buzzed and my stomach flipped.

Taking a deep breath, I pressed the b.u.t.ton. "Yes, Morag?"

"Good morning, Mr Hunter. Your father wishes to see you in his office right away."

Oh, f.u.c.k. Don't even let me get settled then, Father dear. "Okay, thanks. I'll be right there."

Once I had summoned up the courage and made a brief plan in my head of the retorts I might be able to use for whatever bulls.h.i.+t he accused me of this time, I made the short journey to the next floor up and approached my father's office. His secretary, Melissa, asked me to take a seat and so I plonked myself down and waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

I felt like a school kid waiting to see the head teacher for a roasting. My knee bounced up and down, and I chewed on my nails. This is ridiculous.

And still I waited.

f.u.c.k this s.h.i.+t. I stood and walked over to stand at the secretary's desk once again. Speaking through gritted teeth I said, "Melissa, can you tell my father I have work to be getting on with and that he should call me when he actually has the time to speak with me."

Melissa's cheeks turned bright pink, and she opened and closed her mouth as if trying to work out how to protest at my request-which would no doubt land her in hot water.

Suddenly, the door to my father's office opened. "Finlay. You may come in," he said dismissively, without making eye contact.

When I glanced over at Melissa, her relief was almost palpable. I smiled at her and shook my head, but she dropped her gaze to her computer screen and carried on typing. I realised she must have been terrified of suffering my father's wrath just like everyone else.

Once inside the plush office that had been occupied by my tyrant of a father ever since I could remember, he closed the door. "Take a seat, young man."

Okay, so he has his patronising b.a.s.t.a.r.d head on. Bang went any hopes of a civilised and adult to adult conversation. I watched as he walked around the desk and sat in his large, wing-backed leather chair, silently resting his elbows on the highly polished mahogany and steepling his fingers.

Unable to bear the silent treatment any longer, I interrupted whatever thoughts were b.u.mbling around his head. "What did you want to see me about, Dad?"

He took a noisy, deep breath through his mouth and blew it out with force through flared nostrils. "As you can imagine, Finlay, you upset your mother and me with the aggressive nature of your departure after the wedding."

I rolled my eyes. "There was no wedding."

He huffed. "And therein lies another issue. Your mother and I put a lot of time and effort into your relations.h.i.+p with Elise. Does that count for nothing?"

I couldn't help snorting. "Do you not realise how wrong that whole sentence is?"

His brow furrowed. "Meaning what, exactly?"

My heart rate picked up and my temples began to throb. I could sense my anger levels rising. "Meaning that it was my relations.h.i.+p with Elise, and it was me who was getting married to her. Not you. Yet somehow you've turned the whole b.l.o.o.d.y thing around and made it look like I'm the guilty party."

"Do you not see how your lack of insistence on setting a date caused a rift between the pair of you, Finlay?"

His persistent use of my full Christian name rather than an affectionate term like "son" made me seethe. It was more like a business meeting than a father-son chat. But then again, he chose to do this at our place of work.

My calm tone belied the turmoil under my skin. "Dad. I will say this once more, and I will say it slowly so you understand this time. She. Did. Not. Want. To. Set. A. Date. And I will tell you why, shall I? It's down to the fact that you sent her to London where she met the man of her f.u.c.king dreams. So don't keep turning this around on me. We never really loved each other. You and the Drummonds forced us into a relations.h.i.+p that neither of us really wanted."

He slammed his hand on the desk. "Utter nonsense! She adored you! You ruined it!"

"No, Dad. She loved me as a friend. Nothing more. Looking back now, I realise we should have just stopped the whole charade before it went as far as me being jilted at the f.u.c.king altar."

"So that's the grat.i.tude you show your parents, is it? You're not even prepared to fight for the woman you love?"

I felt the growl erupt from my body before I heard it. Once it left my throat, it sounded alien to me. "For the last time - I DON'T LOVE HER!"

The stubborn b.a.s.t.a.r.d wouldn't give up. "I don't believe you. You can't be with someone for that long if you don't love them."

I threw my hands up in the air in exasperation and laughed without humour. "I don't care if you don't believe me. It's the truth." There was no turning back. "I've done everything I can to make you proud of me, Dad. I followed your dreams for my career, I got engaged to Elise, I moved into an apartment you chose. But I can't be that person now. I need to stand on my own two feet."

My words fell on deaf ears. "The embarra.s.sment you've-"

"Are you even listening to me? Do you ever listen to me? I can't do this anymore, Dad. I can't deal with hearing over and over what a failure I am because of this situation. I can't."

My father stood slowly and leaned on his desk. "Then you had better leave."

"Fine! I'll take the rest of the day off and-"

He slammed his hands down again, and I almost jumped out of my skin. "No! Finlay, you're fired."

My heart stuttered in my chest and my eyebrows rose before scrunching. "What? Y-you can't fire me. I've done nothing wrong! This is a personal matter, not a work issue."

"You clearly feel that working for the family business is beneath you. You don't want to be a part of this family anymore. Your actions of late have proved that. So you may leave. And you had better find somewhere to live too. I'm terminating the lease on your apartment."

What the f.u.c.k? My heart sank. "I don't believe you. I really don't believe you." I ran my hands through my short hair and rested them atop my head as I stared briefly up at the oak panelled ceiling.

The energy had been sapped along with the colour that I felt drain from my face, and the next time I spoke, all the fight had left my body.

Despite my attempt at strength, my lip trembled. "All I ever wanted was for you to be proud of me, Dad. All I needed was your rea.s.surance that I wasn't a complete disappointment. Do you know that when I graduated from uni, all you said was, 'Here are your car keys. You start work at the firm on Monday.' Were you aware of that?" My voice began to waver, and I hated myself for showing any kind of weakness in front of him. "I just wanted you to love me, Dad. I just needed a little praise and some of your time. That's all. But I got things." I clenched my jaw in a bid to fend off the emotion fighting for release. "Things instead of the love a son needs from his father. I wors.h.i.+pped you, Dad. I would've given anything to have you love me back. But I guess when it really came down to it, I just wasn't good enough."

I waited for him to speak. For him to tell me he loved me and that I wasn't a disappointment at all. For one word that would make me feel I hadn't just been disowned.

But he remained stoic.

And so with a heaviness in my heart that almost floored me, I gathered my remaining shred of dignity, turned, and left.

Star I was eager to know what had happened to Mr McYummy, but weeks had pa.s.sed and we were heading full pelt toward summer. I hated that I hadn't seen him at all. He stopped calling into the coffee shop altogether-even though my hope of seeing him again had sparked anew with the events of my birthday night. Seeing him up on that stage had really affected me. I kept dragging Alec back there at every given opportunity, just in case there was a slight chance there would be a repeat performance.

But, of course, there wasn't.

In between pining for something that never was and could never be, I had been spending my time wandering around the graveyards of Edinburgh with only the ghosts of lives past to keep me company. As crazy as it sounds, it was wonderful visiting forgotten resting places I had read about in one of my favourite books, and I could imagine being one of Miss Jean Brodie's girls, learning about the history of the great city I now called home. But I also gained a strange sense of peace knowing I was keeping the memories of the deceased alive-if only for myself-when the ancestors of most were clearly long gone. Most people consider graveyards to be sad or depressing places to visit, but not me. I found them fascinating and beautiful; filled with stories, either true or those of my own imagination.

Just over a month after my birthday, Alec and I met up with our friends at DeBas.e.m.e.nt once again, and I was on edge. Alec kept slapping my arm to get my attention when I was too busy scanning the room for blonde-haired, suit-wearing men. It was stupid. He wasn't going to be there, but it didn't stop me trawling the place every five seconds. An uneasy tension stiffened my spine and I couldn't shake off the feeling that things were awry.

Alec had far too many vodkas, as usual, and put his name down to sing a Bon Jovi hit. As he belted out a very camp version of "Livin' on a Prayer" the rest of our group of friends sang along with him, completely out of tune, but my eyes were still busy searching the room. Alec's terrible rendition finished and he rejoined us to raucous applause from the alcohol-fuelled members of our crew.

I'd just about given up all hope of ever seeing the hunky blonde from my fantasies again when the intro to "Every Day Is Exactly The Same" by Nine Inch Nails began to play, and for some reason, my heart leapt and a cold s.h.i.+ver travelled down my spine. My gaze swivelled to the stage so quickly I almost gave myself whiplash.

I widened my eyes and froze. I didn't dare move a muscle in case he turned out to be a figment of my imagination and disappeared into the ether. He gripped the mic where it stood in the stand and closed his eyes. His hair was messier than usual-and the clean-shaven man of a month ago was gone. Stubble now graced his angular jaw, but this made him all the more delicious to me.

He wore a white T-s.h.i.+rt that sat tight across his pecs, a black leather jacket, and black jeans that had seen better days. His eyes remained closed throughout the whole performance, and my heart ached at his unique, emotion-filled delivery of the lyrics. There was something very wrong. It was evident in his last performance too. My gut instinct was right. I was never more sure of anything. His eyes were no longer bright, smiling, and s.e.xy, but instead they were circled with dark shadows, and a line creased his forehead as he displayed the sentiment of the song in his body language.

I was mesmerised once again.

Alec nudged me. "Hey, isn't that the guy you were drooling over on your birthday?"

I nodded slowly. "Um...yeah. Yeah, it's him."

He huffed and pursed his lips with disdain. "He looks different. Could do with a haircut and a shave."

Alec favoured the more clean cut men usually, although there had been some guys in his life who broke the mould. Personally, I thought Mr McYummy looked perfect. And my lady parts were in agreement. I quickly folded my arms across my chest to s.h.i.+eld the evidence of my arousal. Alec would be sure to poke fun at me for that reaction.

I remained completely focussed on Mr McYummy as the song came to a close. A s.h.i.+ver travelled my spine as I let my a.s.sessing gaze trail the full length of his muscular body. The aggression he had exuded last time had gone, and although the gravel in his voice had still been present, the arrogance had been replaced by a melancholy desolation. But regardless of his demeanour, he still owned that stage. I felt the urge to approach him but had no clue what I'd say. "You were great", "Wow, what a voice", "You rock". All far too lame and underwhelming considering the reaction he drew from the crowd.

I watched with concern as he walked, head hung down, over to a side table, and sat. His gaze remained fixed on the floor as applause and cheers continued to ring around the room. He appeared somehow oblivious, detached even, though it was clear the crowd had the same opinion as I did about his talent. I couldn't be sure if he was disbelieving of the reaction he had elicited, or if he was simply disinterested.

Alec leaned in so his mouth hovered by my ear. "Go on. You know you want to go talk to him."

I met Alec's wide eyed you-know-I'm-right stare and swallowed hard. "What if he tells me to f.u.c.k off? He looks so...sad."

Alec shrugged. "You've nothing to lose, Twinkle."

He was right. I either pulled up my big girl panties and bit the proverbial bullet, or I would forever wonder "What if?" And who knows how long it would be until I ever had this opportunity again. Or if the chance would arise at all.

Taking a deep, calming breath, I walked through the throngs of people dancing and waving their arms as the next performer belted out whatever the h.e.l.l the song was supposed to be. It was out of key and sounded akin to nails down a chalkboard, so I tried my best to block it out of my mind and focus on the handsome blonde Adonis ahead of me.

When I arrived beside him, I was a nervous wreck. I had the whole sweating palms and thudding heart thing going on. I leaned in so he could hear me over the noise. "Um...hi there. No coffee tonight, huh?" Sheesh, Star. That really was dumb.

He tilted his chin up to meet my gaze but his eyes were blank. "Sorry, do I know you?"

Oh, s.h.i.+t. Smiling, I shook my head. "No, not really. I used to serve you coffee every morning is all. But you stopped calling in." I shrugged.

Acknowledgement spread across his handsome features. "Oh, yeah. Pink hair. Crazy dancing. I remember." His smile lit up his whole face and my heart melted.

Summoning up more courage, I leaned in again. "So, where'd you go?"

His brow furrowed. "Sorry?"

"For your honeymoon. Last I saw you, you were about to be married. Where'd you go for your honeymoon?"

He cringed and picked at the label on his beer bottle. "Ah. There...um...there was no wedding, and ergo, no honeymoon."

Oh, G.o.d. Hey, mouth, allow me to introduce you to my foot. "Oh, s.h.i.+t. I'm so sorry."

He waved his large hand around. "Na. It's fine." The gesture caused the bottle contents to splash all over my top, and a look of horror spread across his face as he leapt to his feet. "Oh, f.u.c.k! I'm sorry!" He lurched forward, reached out, and dragged his hand down the wet patch on my breast, brus.h.i.+ng a protruding nipple in the process. His startled gaze lifted to mine and he pulled his lips in briefly before uttering, "Oh, b.o.l.l.o.c.ks. That...that was an accident. I didn't mean to grope you. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

He touched my b.o.o.b. Oh, f.u.c.k.

I stood stock still, just staring at him with my mouth open. I must have gone beetroot red, but thankfully, the club lights would have hidden the fact. Or at least I hoped they had. Suddenly he burst into fits of laughter. His whole body shook and he bent double. I couldn't help it. I joined in. His laugh was so deep, s.e.xy, and kind of infectious. We stood there howling with laughter and getting some rather strange looks from the other patrons.

Once we had calmed down, he peered down to where I stood before him, still smiling. "Jeez. I haven't laughed like that in too b.l.o.o.d.y long. Thank you." He chewed on his lip for a moment, and I got the impression he had more to say, so I stayed silent. My instincts were correct, and he took a deep breath as he straightened his back. "Look, do you fancy getting out of here?"

Tilting my head to one side, I narrowed my eyes. "What did you have in mind?" And don't think I'll be having s.e.x with you, if that's what you're thinking.

He shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe we could go somewhere a little quieter? My head's pounding." How the h.e.l.l did he make a headache sound s.e.xy? Okay, so the accent helped...

I scrunched my brow in a moment's contemplation, my head telling me not to go because he was, to all intents and purposes, a complete stranger, but my heart was saying, but he's so sweet and he's sad. He needs a friend.

Clearly, the heart was in charge at that precise moment as the words, "Sure. Why not?" fell from my lips before I could let my head intervene further. I gestured toward Alec's location. "Just let me go and tell my roommate where I'm going. Um, where exactly should I tell him I'm going?"

He thumbed toward the exit. "There's a small bar a few doors down. I think it's called the Jekyll and Hyde bar."

Very apt.

I nodded. "Oh, yeah. I know it. Cool place. Okay. Back in two minutes."

I turned and fought through the crowd once again to where Alec and the rest of my friends stood. I mulled over the irony of the bar's name and the apparent split personality of the guy I was going there with. He certainly had two sides to him that I'd seen. It would be interesting to find out more.

Alec raised his eyebrows at me as I made my way across to him. "Any luck?"

I couldn't help the smile on my face. "He's asked me to go for a drink at the Jekyll and Hyde. Says it's quieter there."

He folded his arms defiantly across his chest. "Oh, yeah. Does he think you're just going to jump into bed with him?"

I snorted in a very unladylike manner. "What? No! We'll be in a pub, you dumba.s.s."

Still with a disbelieving expression, Alec insisted, "You call me if he tries anything. You hear me, Twinkle?"

I rolled my eyes. "Alec, I don't need a big brother. I'm an adult."

He raised his eyebrows again. "Really?"

I slapped his arm playfully. "Eff off, Al."

"Be good. And if you can't be good, use a condom."

"Yes, Dad." I saluted him before turning and making my way back to Mr McYummy. I really need to ask his name...

Star As I approached Mr McYummy again, he smiled at me and my stomach flipped. You will not sleep with him. You will not sleep with him. I repeated the mantra over and over in my head. Who was I trying to convince?