“So, did you have a good night last night? You and Livy?”
I briefly wonder if he is really checking that I did go out with Liv or if he suspects that I was out shagging whoever again, which I kind of was, both, I suppose.
“I was going to call Livy later, maybe invite her and Mase for dinner, or just her if he’s busy,” Dad says and I wonder just how well that would go down, an invitation to dinner minus Mase.
Then I smirk at just how much my brother-in-law physically bristles when Dad calls Liv Livy. Only he calls her that apparently, but I am unsure if I have heard him call it her with any frequency, just a couple of times, tender moments. I laugh out loud, startling and confusing my father when I realise that’s what he calls her when they’re being lovey and most likely intimate. No wonder Mase bristles.
“Sorry.” He has no clue why I am laughing. “We had a good night. Me and Liv and Mase came too with Dec.” I hope I have managed to keep a flatness to my tone so as not to alert him to anything akin to me and Dec.
“What do you make of him?”
“Mase?” I query but answer before he confirms my understanding. “He’s just Mase; possessive, protective, loves Liv, friendly enough, what do you mean?” I finally ask with confusion.
“What? No, not Mase, his brother, Dec? He seems a bit flaky to me, a bit of a waster I shouldn’t wonder, and definitely a playboy. Yeah, a very poor man’s Hugh Heffner.” My dad laughs at his own words. Words that stab me, hurting me which is ridiculous considering he’s spot on.
“I wouldn’t know,” is my best retort as I refocus on the cake baking in the oven.
My dad’s words play in my head over and over until I have a headache. Not because I think he is being unfair but because he isn’t. His summing up of Dec is pretty accurate based on the warnings of my sister, my own observations, and the fact that I left him sleeping in his bed to do the walk of shame in last night’s clothes under the cover of night before enduring the knowing smirk and judgemental eyes of the cab driver who dropped me home.
I spend the next couple of hours working quietly alongside my dad who seems oblivious to the whirring of my mind as I think, overthink, and then imagine every possible outcome for me, me and Dec.
With a very specific buffet prepared for some small gallery opening, my dad is ready to load up the van again. I make several trips from the kitchen to the van and back again before finally waving him off. I hope when I return to the club that I will chance upon Dec or that he’ll come and find me.
My hopes are dashed when I return indoors. I clean the kitchen and leave it ready for its next use but by the time I am ready to leave there has been no sign of Dec. I reason that he’s busy. This is his business, and he must be working. Even if this place is a nightclub, it must require daytime working hours in order for it to run smoothly and it appears to do just that. I don’t know the details, but I do know that Mase has money invested and that he would never allow Dec to squander his money nor be lax in his business dealings whilst his money is involved.
By the time I grab my bag and keys I am resigned to not seeing or speaking to Dec, and the truth is I am confused by how that makes me feel. I’m confused, but there’s more to it than that. Maybe my confusion is because of all the other feelings, thoughts and emotions flooding through my mind and body; I am happy when I think of Dec, of me and Dec, and I am hopeful, maybe foolishly so, but I can’t stop my mind thinking of the two of us together and all the things we might be. I’m sad too though because the voice of reality is intent on dispelling all the positive things I dream of.
I really need to get a hold of this, of it all because I can’t bear to think that this is now my mind set, flitting from one extreme feeling to another and all the time having to contend with extreme mood swings too. Currently my mood is dark, and I know it is directly linked to the fact that I haven’t seen, spoken, or heard from Dec in the last couple of hours. Only I could end up in this position from something that was supposed to be so simple. Only I would inadvertently hook up with my sister’s brother-in-law, several times and despite him being a self-confessed man whore not only be pissed off by it, but imagine being the one to make him better, to make him want more.
“Shit!” Who am I kidding? Not even myself because even if Dec was looking to be rescued and improved it wouldn’t be by me, someone like me because a relationship with a man whore who wants strings free sex is all I deserve. Moreover, it might be more than I deserve.
Chapter 13
Declan
From my office window, I have a perfect view of the car park. I watch Anita walk to her car and even from here, I can see that she looks uncomfortable. No, it’s not that. She seems upset, worried, and sad. Yes, sad.
I ball my hands into fists at my side, knowing that I’ve done nothing wrong, I don’t think. Yet I know her sadness is somehow down to me. I told her we’d talk later and then avoided going anywhere near the kitchen, avoided going anywhere near her. I tell myself that was because of Nigel. That I didn’t want him to pick up on the fact that there is something between us and I didn’t want that to cause issues between Anita and her dad. I’m not even convinced by my own reasoning. The truth is that I am shit scared by her and by us if the feelings I have simmering under the surface of my being are anything to go by. Feelings I don’t like or want, but they’re not listening to me because even now I can feel them intensifying and festering. I should have listened to Mase when he told me not to get involved, not that he said that, not really. But once I knew who she was, I should have moved on and allowed her to do the same. She is a nice girl, a good girl and she is looking for something real and of permanence, both things I can’t give and don’t want, do I?
I watch her car until it is the tiniest dot on the landscape, my hand roughly pushing through my hair and then force myself away from the window and grab my phone, intent on sending her a message of some sort. After probably the tenth attempt to compose something light, witty, and non-inflammatory I’m relieved to receive a text from Mase, until I open it.
I laugh at his agitation and the fact that his romantic dinner has been put on ice, but my laughter is short lived because I have no clue why Cupcake wants to meet with Liv. My ego is overinflated at the best of times, but it has no bearing in the conclusion that Anita’s plans with my sister-in-law are somehow connected to us, to me. Briefly, I wonder if I could get someone to cover for me tonight, allowing me to meet with Mase and by meet with Mase, I mean gate crash the girls’ meeting.
“No,” I tell myself as I dismiss the idea of not working and reply to my brother.
I know I’m playing with fire by winding Mase up with the inference that Liv is bored of him but also that there might have ever been a Liv and me, a Liv and anyone who isn’t Mase. The truth is that I am provoking him deliberately, if only to take my mind off Anita and whatever is on her mind. I don’t have to wait long to see how successful my provocation in poking the bear has been.
“Shit!” That’s all I need, Mase, a pissed off Mase coming over later, but it looks as though that is exactly what I’m getting.
It seems that my fucking is fucking with both of our lives but more than anything it is fucking with my head because I am clueless as to what I should and shouldn’t do anymore.
~~~
