Redemption (15 page)

“Let’s just try to have fun tonight,” I said. “No worrying about Maisie and Shaun. I just want to let my hair down.”

“Deal,” Oliver said. “But in that case, let me choose where we go. I know the owner of a nice little establishment near Leicester Square that I think you’ll like.” 

I sent a text to Alisa and Sierra telling them where to meet us and they certainly seemed to approve judging by the enthusiastic responses. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gone out for a night on the town. I had a feeling this night was going to be a memorable one.

-*-

I met Sierra and Alisa outside the bar. They’d been standing in line, but I pulled them out and said that we could go straight in thanks to Oliver. He’d already gone inside, so when we dropped his name at the door we were escorted straight to a VIP area at the back of the club. 

We had our own table, and the section was raised just enough to make us look important, without feeling completely detached from the rest of the bar.

“Ladies, this is Oliver,” I said, making the introductions. “Oliver, this is Alisa and Sierra.”

“We know who he is,” Alisa said excitedly. “I’ve actually been to a few of your games.”

“You’re a fan of West London?” Oliver asked.

“Uh, no, not exactly. But it’s hard to get tickets for the Harlequins games. I’m sure I could be persuaded to switch allegiances though.”

Oliver laughed, then got the attention of the waitress who would be waiting on us tonight. “I guess I can buy a drink for a Harlequins fan still. You’re not all horrible people, or so I hear.” He ordered a few bottles of champagne, and some food to nibble on. Oliver was always eating. 

The table was so big that I had to leave a gap between Oliver and me or it would have looked obvious that I wanted to be with him. When the food arrived, I had an excuse to move up closer to him, but unfortunately Alisa did the same thing.

“I’ve been hearing rumors about you,” Alisa said to Oliver, as she ate some of the chips. 

“That sounds incriminating,” Oliver replied.

“Oh no, nothing naughty,” she said with a smile. “Although I’m sure you have plenty of those stories locked away as well. No, I heard you were going to get a call up for the England team.”

“Ah. Well, I couldn’t possibly comment on that.”

“I usually cheer for the American team at the World Cup—even though we suck—but I think I could be persuaded to follow England if there is someone of your—” she eyed him up and down “caliber in the team.”

“Uh, thanks,” Oliver replied awkwardly.

Oh Jesus, she’s flirting with him. Nice work, Michelle. You’ve gone and introduced a rugby star to your confident, flirty, rugby loving friend without thinking things through. I was so bloody bad at this.

“Alisa,” Sierra said, standing up. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Okay,” Alisa said, not looking away from Oliver.

“Maybe you want to come with me,” Sierra said strongly.

Alisa frowned but followed Sierra to the bathroom. “Do women throw themselves at you everywhere you go?” I asked, once they were out of earshot.

“Pretty much,” Oliver replied casually.

“Oh.” 

“It doesn’t mean anything. I’m sure you don’t go home with every guy who hits on you at a bar.”

“Maybe I do,” I joked. 

“You’re a beautiful barmaid,” Oliver said. “If you went home with every guy who hit on you, you’d never get anything done.”

“Alisa’s a nice girl,” I said. “She’s beautiful and clever. You two would make a cute couple.”

“Don’t say things like that. You know I’m not interested in her. There’s only one person here tonight that I want to spend time with. That’s you by the way.”

I smiled. “Yeah, I kind of hoped that’s where you were going.”

“I’m done playing around, Michelle. You know I want you, and I think you want me too.”

I nodded. It was a hugely understated way of explaining how I felt, but no words could have captured it either. 

Alisa and Sierra returned from the bathroom and Alisa leaned over and whispered into my ear. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you two were close. My bad.” 

I mouthed “thanks” in reply and moved up closer to Oliver. There didn’t seem to be much point in playing coy anymore.

“How about we go dance?” Sierra asked. “There appear to be a few men in here who know what they’re doing.”

“You can leave your jacket at the table,” Oliver said, as we stood up to head to the dance floor. “No one but us is allowed there, so it will be perfectly safe.”

“No, it’s okay,” I replied. “I’ll keep it on.” 

I didn’t have any sweaters that were suitable for a night on the town, so I wore a light jacket instead. It looked normal enough to keep it on at the table, but I was going to stand out on the dance floor, where everyone else had shed layers of clothes to get as sweaty and intimate as possible.

Oliver was becoming increasingly suspicious of my constant need to wear one more layer of clothing than was typically required, but I’d been doing it for years and people got used to it in the end. 

Alisa and Sierra found men to dance with in just a few minutes, leaving Oliver and I to press against each other and lose ourselves to the music. The dance floor soon got crowded, and strangely that actually helped me relax. We became inconspicuous; just another couple getting physical and hoping for more. 

Oliver’s thick arms wrapped around me from behind and held me close to him. I rubbed my ass firmly against his crotch and felt his member under his pants. His fingers moved over my stomach, with his little finger gliding close to my waistband, while his other hand moved down to my thigh. 

For the first time, I became aware of just how small I was in comparison to Oliver. I’d always felt short up against him, but now I felt petite and slight under this heavy arms. The hand on my stomach moved up and when the lights dimmed between songs, Oliver took the opportunity to move it to my breast and squeeze gently. Thank God the dance floor was dark, because there had to be a wet patch between my legs right now.

Oliver yelled something into my ear, but the music was too loud to hear anything. He dragged me over to the side and pressed me up against a wall, further away from all the speakers.

“We need to leave soon,” he said. “I can’t take this any longer. Let’s go to a hotel.” 

His hand squeezed my ass, and I let out a gasp that hopefully no-one could hear over the music. “We can’t,” I replied. 

“I need you,” Oliver growled.

“No hotel,” I said, unable to speak in complete sentences as he pressed himself against me. “Shaun and Maisie will get suspicious. Let’s go back to yours. Pretend I just crashed in a spare room.”

Oliver nodded and tried to drag me out of the bar immediately. I smiled at his eagerness, but insisted on saying goodbye to Alisa and Sierra first. They both gave me knowing smiles and wished me a fun evening. I hadn’t spoken to them that much, but they’d understand. 

Oliver insisted on a cab even though it was nearly an hour drive, and he couldn’t keep his hands off me the entire way back. He tried to remove my jacket, but I insisted on keeping it on. I don’t know why; he was going to see me naked soon enough. 

I couldn’t keep my arm hidden forever. In a few hours he would see all of me, and I had no idea how he’d react. Some men had run a mile at the sight of those burn marks. Oliver was better than that. At least, I hoped he was.

We approached the house like we were two kids sneaking home after a late night out. All the lights were off and Maisie had texted Michelle to say that my driver was taking her back to the hotel. The house was big enough that we didn’t need to worry too much about the noise once we were in my bedroom, but getting there involved walking past Shaun’s room, so we had to tiptoe around a bit first.

“We should make it look like I’m sleeping in a guest room,” Michelle said. “Let’s go mess up the covers.”

“Yeah, about that. I don’t really have any guest rooms. I did, but they all got converted into games rooms, or fitness centres.”

“Okay, well go grab a spare pillow and a cover, while I leave some clothes dotted around the sofa.”

Every second that passed was another opportunity for Michelle to change her mind, but that didn’t seem likely. Not tonight. Michelle looked almost as determined as I was. This was going to happen. Michelle and I were actually going to go to bed together. It still didn’t feel real.

I snuck into one of the spare rooms and grabbed a pillow and the large duvet. This was a lot of effort to go to just to keep Shaun from getting suspicious about my relationship with Michelle. He almost certainly wouldn’t care, although he might tell Maisie, and she would care. She looked up to me like I was her real brother, and it wouldn’t go down well if she knew how I felt about Michelle. We’d have to deal with that situation later.

A faint flickering light emanated from Shaun’s room, which probably meant he’d left the television on. I snuck past and heard the distinct tapping noise of his PlayStation controller that meant he was up playing video games. I’d been hoping he was asleep by now, but he usually played games with headphones on, so that would block out any noise he might hear from my room.

I didn’t bring many women back to the house, and when I did I went to a lot of effort to be as discreet as possible. Shaun was at an age where he would look for male role models, and I didn’t want him to look up to me as someone who fooled around with women a lot. We spent plenty of time together, so with any luck he would focus on the more positive aspects of my character. Besides, he never really saw me as a father anyway. He’d usually say I was more like an older brother, which suited me just fine. 

Michelle was in the living room examining the photos I had up above the fireplace. She’d left her shoes near the sofa, and had thrown her jacket over the chair. It at least looked like she’d been in this room, although it was always tough to give a sofa that “slept on” look, short of actually sleeping on it.

I stopped outside the door and decided to give her a few more moments with the photos. She’d never asked that many questions about Shaun and how he came to be living with me, but I knew she must be curious. Those photos told a good story. 

Shaun had a few pictures of his dad on display. One from when Shaun had been a baby, with his dad holding him like any proud father would. The original photo had been taken just before Shaun’s mother abandoned them, but he’d cut her out of it. 

The other photo was of Gary smiling and holding his Championship winning medal. He’d looked so happy back then. By the time I got to know Gary, things were not so positive. The problems with the gambling ring had taken their toll by that point.

If I had any say in the matter, then Shaun would never find out the truth about what his father got involved in. It didn’t change the man that Gary was, not really. He did what he did to protect his family. I only wish I had done the same.

Michelle moved on to a picture of Shaun and me that had been taken about a year after Gary’s death. We’d been at a cricket match of all places, because Shaun had friends who were into the sport and he wanted to give it a go. He stood out like a sore thumb as one of the few black people in the audience. Thankfully, he was bored to tears and stuck to rugby. 

I resisted the urge to walk in and disturb Michelle. This was the most skin I’d seen her show since she’d been in England. On her top half at least. She didn’t seem to mind showing off her legs, but she always insisted on wearing cardigans or jackets even when it was far too hot outside. 

Michelle looked stunning. Her long hair draped halfway down her back and her breasts looked fuller than I’d appreciated before, now that I could properly see them against the outline of her torso. Michelle had the body most women would kill for. Why would she always try to keep it covered up? 

She moved over to the other side of the room, not spotting me standing in the doorway, and started checking out the random assortment of DVDs I kept on the shelves. She stood with her right side facing me, and now I finally realized why she had kept her body hidden all this time. 

On the outside of her upper right arm, Michelle had a large burn mark that looked almost identical to the one Maisie had on her face. The flesh had a red tinge and was bumpy and uneven. Maisie’s skin had healed substantially from the night of the attack, so even though her skin was still misshapen, most of the redness had disappeared. Michelle’s looked like it had hardly healed, and I knew why.