“Yeah, right. I’m sure this has nothing whatsoever to do with my new housemate.”
“Nothing at all.”
“Sure. So, how’s life in James’ world?”
I smiled. “So, how are things going with Lydia, Rebecca?”
“Good,” she said, lighting up a cigarette. I wrapped my coat a little tighter, bracing my collar against the breeze. Our coffees arrived and I sipped at mine while Rebecca took long deep drags, puffing smoke all over me. I’d have vastly preferred to sit inside, away from the wind and passers-by, but Rebecca’s nicotine habit put paid to that.
“Spit it out, James, what do you want? It must be killing you to take a day off from the gym.”
“I’m an interested friend, curious as to how things are working out. Since it’s been weeks already, I imagine you must have some news.”
“Have you asked her?”
“We work together, our conversation generally revolves around work things.”
“Your choice, I’m sure. You want her, don’t you?” she grinned. I felt the irritation rising, the desire to shake Rebecca by her intuitive little shoulders pulsing through my temples.
“She’s a colleague, which makes her both off limits and disgustingly unattractive.”
“I don’t blame you, by the way. She’s nice. Funny... smart...sexy as hell.”
“Can’t say I’ve noticed.”
“Oh, please. Fuck off with your shit, James.” She leant over the table, still wafting smoke at me. “You could have come over, you know, like a normal person, rather than drag me halfway across the city to entertain your private investigator fetish.”
“You’re trying my patience, Rebecca. Like I said, I wanted to see you.”
“You could have seen me last night. People have been asking after you... pussies to be spanked, tears to be shed... it’s not like big, bad Masque to stay away. Where have you been, anyway?”
“Busy.”
“And when are you coming back?”
“When I feel like it.”
“Please tell me you finally shot your load in some tight little snatch somewhere? Praise the Lord!”
I met her eyes, conveying my irritation without need of words. “Is she over her heartache?”
“Lydia? She seems to be but it’s hard to know for sure. She’s almost as private as you, almost.”
“No sign of reconciliation?”
“Doubt it. From the bits I’ve heard he sounds like a wet-blanket jerk. She could do a lot better.”
“Seems she’ll be staying, then.” A strange mixture of horror and relief washed over me. It sickened my stomach so much I felt the urge to retch.
“We can hope. I’d sure miss her perky little ass in the mornings.” She caught me in her dirty eyes, a sly smile twitching at her mouth. “She’s great, James, really great.”
I let out a sigh. “So, are you going to talk, or not? I could still catch the gym...”
“Let me see... Lydia Marsh... twenty-three, from Warwick. Tall, dark hair, green eyes, perky little ass... project manager for Trial Run Software Group, you may have heard of them?” I checked my watch pointedly. “Fine!” she laughed. “Her ex sounds a douche, conservative to the extreme, I’m surprised she wasn’t the one to fuck around. She must be a fucking saint. I haven’t heard him calling, but I gather he’s been round her friend Steph’s. That’s her only friend by the way, and she’s a class-A fucking idiot. She’s only been round once and turned her nose up the entire fucking time.”
“Any family?”
“Only child. No daddy from what I can gather.”
“Mother?”
“Now, there’s a story. I’ve overheard bits and pieces. Her mother sounds like a real bloodsucker.”
“Go on...”
“I’m pretty damn certain she’s into drink, and I’m also pretty damn certain Lydia bails her out often.”
“How so?”
“Money... support... a sympathetic fucking ear. For all her tough-girl attitude, I think our Lydia’s pretty soft. Oh, and get this, she hasn’t even told her mother about the break up. I heard her promising to pass on a hello to the lovely Stuart Dobson.”
“They don’t sound close.”
“One way street, for sure. Urgh, victims give me the heebies. I’m telling you now, James, shit’s gone down there. I suspect her mother’s crap has screwed her up good. She has scars, James. Self-harm.”
“She told you that?”
“She doesn’t need to. I’d know them a mile off.”
“Whereabouts?”