Bad Boys of London(192)

Twenty-eight


SNOW


That day, Shane takes me shopping for some clothes. He seems very familiar with the art of taking a woman shopping. I quickly buy some cosmetics, a bottle of perfume, a pair of jeans, a couple of T-shirts, underwear, and tights.

‘Right, you need something jazzy for tonight,’ he says, and takes me to a boutique where the two assistants seem to know him very well.

He makes me try on three different dresses and buys them all.

‘Have you got something for her to put her lipstick into?’ he asks the girls.

They come back with three different evening bags and he nods approvingly. Afterwards, we have lunch in a cozy little café nearby, then drop by a shoe shop to get shoes for all three dresses.

‘Tired?’ he asks.

‘A little.’

‘Come on, I’ll take you home and you can have a little nap. I’ve got errands to run.’

He drops me back to the apartment then goes out. I plan to clean the place, but someone has come in while we were out and cleaned the place thoroughly. I try to read a book, but I am too wound up. Despite everything Shane says about Lenny, I know I still owe him an explanation. No matter what anybody says, Lenny took care of me.

I sit down and write a letter to him. I tell him that I have fallen in love with someone else. I tell him that I will always care for him and be grateful for what he did for me. I tell him that one day we’ll be friends. And then I tear the letter to shreds and throw it away. I know what is bothering me.

There is no happy ending to this story. Lenny is going to be furious with me. And he’s going to want to know who has taken his possession away from him.

I sit on the couch and feel shivery, and frightened for Shane. What if Lenny hurts Shane? I know Shane can use his fists, I saw that in the car park, but this is different. Shane is too sweet to take on a ruthless gangster like Lenny. I see it in the eyes of all the people we meet, how wary they are of him. They wouldn’t be afraid if there was nothing to fear.

By the time Shane comes back I am in a real state. I have convinced myself that Lenny is going to kill him. That I should never have started seeing Shane in the first place. Tears are pouring down my face. When he walks through the door he immediately comes to my side

‘What’s wrong?’ he asks.

‘He’ll kill you, Shane. I know Lenny. He’ll kill you,’ I babble hysterically.

He sits back on his heels and looks at me. He reaches out a hand and strokes my wet cheeks. ‘Do you really have so little faith in me?’

‘You don’t understand. I know him. I know what he is capable of.’

‘Then rest easy that you don’t know what I am capable of.’ And something lurks in his eyes.

‘Are you going to hurt him?’

‘That’s up to him.’

I cover my face with my hands. I can’t help feeling so guilty. That all of this is my fault.

‘I should have walked away from Lenny first. And then come to you. How stupid I’ve been,’ I sob.

He pulls my hands away from my face. ‘I couldn’t have waited that long. This is not your fault. I chased you. You were minding your own business. I knew what I was getting into.’

‘Nobody’s going to get hurt?’

‘Unless someone fucking asks for it,’ he says.

‘Promise?’

He smiles a little sadly. ‘Promise. Now go put on one of your new dresses. I’m taking you out on the town.’

I slip on a knee-length black dress with diamante straps, a tight bodice and a flaring skirt and go out to meet him in the living room.

He smiles softly. ‘Beautiful. Just beautiful,’ he says with great satisfaction in his voice.

We go out to dinner at Layla’s husband’s restaurant. Again we are treated as if we are VIPs. Nothing is too much trouble. The food is excellent and Shane is courteous and attentive, but he seems distant and preoccupied. And I realize that since my meltdown last night we haven’t had sex.

I start to wonder if Lenny was right. Knowing I have been gang raped would put even the most persistent man off. I start looking for little signs of change in his behavior. Is he looking at that woman? Why is he not reaching for my hand? Did he just avoid my eyes?

Then why is he helping me? Is it because he is just a nice guy and he doesn’t want to hurt my feelings? The more I think about it, the clearer it becomes that ever since last night he is definitely more distant. He has hardly touched me all day and all throughout our meal.

A woman comes up to him.

‘Shane,’ she coos.

‘Bella,’ he replies coldly.

‘You were going to call me,’ she says, one beautifully plucked eyebrow raised.

I feel a burning in my gut. What a cheek? I am sitting here and she is hitting on my man. That brings me up short. Maybe he is not my man. And the thought brings tearing pain. For a year I felt no pain at all no matter what someone did or said, and now the ability to feel something more than just baffled sorrow at what happened to me that day in the hotel room is back. My body is responding to external stimulai again.