Page 46 of Doubting Hearts

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I WAS right. The calls got worse. A few days later, I pitched up at Neil’s small bungalow in the center of town. I’d told no one where I was really going, just that I had errands to run in town. In hindsight, it was a stupid thing to do. I knocked loudly on his door, half hoping he was in, the other half hoping I’d be able to leave without seeing the bastard. He opened the door, taking an aggressive step forward when he saw me standing there.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he snarled. His eyes darted nervously around the neighborhood, as if he was scared I might have brought a gay plague with me.

“I came to ask you to stop harassing me before I decide to go to the police.” I kept my voice even, not wanting to lose my temper. “It’s getting out of control, Neil. I need you to back off.”

He laughed harshly. “And if I don’t? You’re gonna go to Dave Webber and tell him that your poor lily-white arse is being ‘harassed’ by me? You know what he’ll say to that, don’t you?”

I wasn’t really having any luck controlling the rising fury that seethed through my pores. I swallowed tightly, clenching my hands into fists. “I’ll take that chance. There are more policemen than just Dave Webber, you know. Perhaps one of the others might listen where he won’t.”

Neil chuckled nastily as he swung the door idly back and forth. “You can try, Toby. The bottom line is Dave’s the boss, and they’ll do what he says.” His face darkened. “Now fuck off and leave me alone. I don’t need anyone thinking we’re mates, ’cos we aren’t.” His words were dripping with scorn as he slammed the door. I took a deep breath and knocked again. He ignored me. I finally kicked the door hard once, then twice, and it was wrenched open fiercely.

Neil barreled out like a bulldog trying to get at the mailman to rip his throat out. I hadn’t been expecting a sudden charge of a hundred and eighty pounds of muscle. He pushed me hard in the chest with outstretched arms, knocking me backward. I fell, my hands reaching out to break my fall. I shouted as something twisted in my left hand. The pain was agonizing. Neil stood over me, his face flushed, his fists clenched. I rolled over and scrambled to my feet. My breath was coming hard and fast as I faced him, feeling violence in my body like I hadn’t in many years.

“I told you to get the fuck away from me!” Neil yelled, spittle on his lips. “I don’t like you, and I don’t want you on my property.”

I stared at him in fury. “At least tell me why you’re doing all this shit to me. What the hell have I ever done to you? Is it because Tammy broke up with you?”

He looked at me, hatred on his face. “You had no right to break us up like you did. But I don’t give a fuck about her anymore. There’s plenty of slags like her to go around.” My anger increased at those words, even as I felt a sense of relief that this wasn’t really about her. She’d be safe from him if he focused his rage on me.

He poked a fist in my face. “You smacked Landon when he wouldn’t put out for you,” he snarled. “Landon’s a good bloke, my dad’s best friend, and he told us all about what you’d tried to do to him. Trying to stick him one up the arse and wanting to suck him off. It was bloody disgusting. The man goes to church, for God’s sake, and has a kid. How could you do that to him? People still talk gossip about it, and he didn’t deserve the accusations you threw at him. They were a fucking lie. He still has trouble with his bloody shoulder because of the whack you gave him, and he can’t even play football anymore. You bloody caused a load of trouble for him.”

I shook my head. “He’s the fucking liar. He’s the one who wanted to suck my bloody cock, you ignorant twat.”

Neil shouted out in anger, lurching toward me. I moved just at the right moment, and he went flying into the bush that flanked his garden path. I looked around. The street had a few curious onlookers, but I had a feeling none of them would interfere if this got any worse.

I looked at the man struggling to get out of the bush and knew this conversation had been a mistake. In fact, I’d probably just made things worse. “I’m warning you. Leave me the hell alone,” I spat at him. “You don’t want to know what happened to the last people who fucked with me like this.” The memories of what I’d done when I was fifteen came flooding back, making the bile rise in my throat. “You stay the hell away from me and my friends, or you’ll be sorry, you sick tosser.”

I turned and walked back down the garden path, being careful to keep an eye on him. It would be just like him to play dirty and do something when I wasn’t looking. I made it onto the street and looked back to see him upright now and staring after me. His gaze burned into my back like an iron left on the board too long. I was shaking, my hand already swelling where I’d obviously sprained it. I’d scraped it too, and it oozed small trickles of blood. I felt physically sick, not just from the adrenaline rush but from the fact I’d really wanted to hurt him. I hadn’t felt like that in a long time. I had a long fuse, but when it burned out, I was a menace to myself and anyone else around. I’d learned that the hard way.

I made it back to the hotel bar and once again stole some ice from the fridge to wrap in a towel and hold against my hand. I soaked a clean cloth in ice-cold water and wrapped it around, swearing as the cold bit at the open scratches. I was so absorbed in my task I didn’t hear Lucas come in to stand beside me. When I finally felt a presence, I looked up to see him watching me carefully.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice soft but commanding. Lucas looked like a big, shaggy puppy, but he had a core of steel.

I looked at him. “I fell. Tripped over a kid’s scooter in the street.

Hurt my hand a little.”

He knew I was lying. I knew he knew I was lying.

He nodded, his eyes watchful. “You need to be more careful, mate, and watch where you’re going. I’d hate you to get hurt. Rain wouldn’t be happy with that either.”

“I just fell, Lucas. No big deal.” My voice was sharp.

He nodded again. “Uh-huh.” He looked around. “Eddie told me he’s put some cold drinks in the ‘under fridge’ for us. Which one would that be, then?”

I pointed out the right fridge, and he took out two cold Cokes, which I imagined were for him and Rain. They were completing the finishing touches to the Canterbury Bar, and in a few days’ time, Rain and Lucas would be off to Leicester to start building a library for someone. I wasn’t looking forward to not having his presence at the hotel. Whether these feelings we had for each other would survive no longer being on tap for each other as we were now, I wasn’t sure. I fervently hoped they didn’t come to a full-blown stop.

Later that evening at his place, I gave Rain the same story I’d given Lucas about my hand. He seemed to accept it. I thought wryly he’d never have believed I’d have willingly gone to see the bullying, violent ex- boyfriend of a friend on my own, as that would have been suicidal, stupid, and sheer folly. He obviously gave me far too much credit for having brains. He kissed my scrapes better, joking about how lucky it was that I was right-handed and could still use my hand for the most part to do all “the things I did so well.” I laughed, saying I supposed we should be grateful for small mercies. If I’d known it was all going to turn to shit, I might not have been so flippant.

* * *

TWO DAYS later I was very busy with a new intake of customers who’d arrived from Japan. The tour bus had gotten stuck in one of the small country lanes it tried to bypass, and it had taken over two hours to get it moving again. The passengers were fractious and hot, as the bus’s air- conditioning had broken down as well. Whilst England in August might not be the hottest place on the planet, it was still unseasonably warm. Fifty annoyed, sweating, and highly irate Japanese people traipsing into my hotel in the midafternoon, not speaking much English, and all trying to get both my and Tammy’s attention was a recipe for disaster.

It didn’t help when one of them had the temerity to faint in the lobby, and I found myself giving first aid to a small, sweating sixty-year- old man with a serious case of the grabbies. I don’t think he was trying to feel me up. I think it was just that he seemed to find solace in touching and grabbing anything he could get his hands on, which included my arse and my legs and occasionally my crotch. The man had no idea of boundaries. He panicked and hyperventilated in all the fuss, and Tammy had to run around to find a paper bag I could use to bring his breathing back to normal. When I had Mr. Miyamoto finally settled with a cup of tea, I was able to give my attention to the other forty-nine people who were clamoring for it.

Finally, between us, we had all the new hotel patrons settled in their rooms, with promises of late afternoon “Engrish cream teams,” which I took to mean “English cream teas.” The lobby was empty, and I heaved a sigh of relief at Tammy.