Becky pushed both herself and me to the limits over the next few days. She was engaged in meeting after meeting, sometimes back to back and occasionally long into the night; sidebars to the endless stream of parties that Richie seemed to organize or insist that we attend on behalf of the company.
She had taken time out of her busy schedule to make sure I trained, though; every afternoon there was a hole in her diary which we filled with combat training, range shooting or pistol work. She pushed me harder and harder until finally it all started to pay off, my times went down, my accuracy went up and with every round I shot, I felt better and better.
It had been an interesting week at the Expo, getting to see how the other half lived. As a soldier, you heard about these events; huge get-togethers where manufacturers and dealers laid on lavish stands, and flashy events; all designed to woo the people with buying power in the worlds official and private armies. They cropped up regularly, often, like this one, with a massive public face.
Events like the Farnborough Air Show were fancy for the public with the displays and the flypasts, but the real deals were done behind closed doors, far away from the 'ooh's' and 'ahh's' of the great unwashed, out for a nice day in the sun.
Away from the smaller stands, in the main hall, there was the main event, where the big players were schmoozed; the military, the police, personal protection units, security firms and anyone and everyone else that had the cash to buy big, they were all drawn here by the big stands, the pretty girls and the freebies. Each and every one of them was here looking for a deal, and nearly all of them seemed to be looking for someone to make them feel special enough to hand over their biggest part of their budget.
It was pretty much how all us mere grunts imagined these events to be really. Whitey used to tell everyone that our weapons were made by the lowest bidder, and sold by the highest briber. Becky had laughed when I'd told her what he had said over our dinner on Sunday night.
"He wasn't a million miles off if I'm totally honest, babe," she'd replied. "I leave all that shit to Richie, though. I do the deals and the hard negotiations, he does the messing around and making people feel good. Well, actually his team do all the real work. Naturally, he does fuck all himself."
This had become a running argument between them throughout the course of the week; the sibling rivalry threatening to erupt into violence as Richie flounced from event to event and Becky stressed over deal after deal. One thing I hadn't realized was just how hard these events were, Armstrong Industries seemed to be a pretty big player in the market, yet it seemed to be down to Becky alone to organize the endless logistics of supply and demand.
They may profess their affection for each other as siblings, but when it comes to work, there is no love lost between them and I doubt that will ever change. And as Richie has been nowhere to be seen for most of the week, if it was going to change, it wouldn't be now.
I was actually enjoying the rivalry between them, it was the only moments of excitement in what had become an extremely dull week. Not even my regular runs to the range, now first thing in the morning and again after the stands closed, could make up for the monotony of standing around with nothing to do; or even worse, dealing with the people James sent my way to "see a Close Protection operative in action". I was only halfway through the week and I'd already had enough of 'being famous'.
At least it was only half a day tomorrow, the big competition an excuse for many of the big wigs to decamp from the halls and take up residence in their touring palaces; tents and motor homes decked out to impress. With so many events taking place over the afternoon, it had turned into a great big away day; no wonder James was so anxious to prove how good he was. By the sounds of things, everyone and anyone would be there.
"Freen?"
I turned from watching the faceless crowd as Becky called across to me. I'd tried to be discrete during the week, more or less hiding at the back of the impressive Armstrong Industries stand. I'd spent my time watching the crowd that approached for any sign of trouble. I wasn't actually expecting any but I wasn't going to take any chances. Nothing was going to happen to Becky on my watch, for both personal and professional reasons and it's definitely not going to happen when my boss is in the same room singing our praises to potential clients.
As I looked across at her, I saw her beckoning me over with a smile on her face. It wasn't a real smile, though. I hadn't seen much of her real smiles during the last few days. Even when we found a moment to ourselves, she seemed withdrawn, a far cry from the happy person I had persuaded to have a nice, romantic meal with me on Sunday night.
Everything had become so labored between us with the stresses and strains of the Expo, she'd even resorted to sniping at me about my protectiveness; it was like we were back at the start again, back at fucking Armstrong Manor. I didn't like it, but I was trying to be understanding. I knew she was stressed, and I know she was just taking it out on me.
Because of that, I took it all, but I couldn't help but feel that it would be nice to see that real smile back on her face and I made a note to see what I could do about putting it back where it belonged.
"Yes, Miss Armstrong?" I said professionally as I stepped up beside her, suddenly realizing there was someone stood with her.
"Ah, Freen, this is Hayley, apparently she has some forms for you."
"Forms?" I asked the tall brunette who was smiling at us both. She was clearly one of the hired models that were acting as runners for the organizers. I'd spent some time with a few of them and the other models that were working the stands over the last couple of days. Well, a couple of them had come over talking to me at lunch one day and it would have been rude to just dismiss them.
Plus, Becky or no Becky, I'm not going to say 'no' to being surrounded by pretty girls. Just because I'm not interested in them doesn't mean it wasn't fun. To my great surprise, they were really nice, I really wasn't expecting that. I know it's shallow of me, but I didn't really have a high opinion of people in that business; how wrong I was.
They had a real mix of personalities as well. Some of the girls I met were students working their way through college, some were professionals making a living going from event to event looking good for the 'punters'. Some of them were exactly what you would think they would be, vacuous and shallow, but the majority of them were smart; book smart and street smart. Despite myself, I really enjoyed hanging around with them, in an event full of false formality they were a breath of fresh air; and they gossiped like squaddies, swore like them as well, behind the scenes of course.
It made the boring breaks I took, while Becky was tied up in those seemingly endless business meetings, that little bit more sociable.
"Just a little formality for tomorrow's competition, Freen," she replied casually all teeth and tits, "nothing too arduous".
I stared back at her, racking my brains to remember if we'd actually spoken or if she was just doing the false friendliness that plagued the public arena. As I stared at her, I got a nudge in the side from Becky and looked at her to receive a stern glare.
"The papers, Freen," she told me all hints of her good mood seemingly vanished, that false smile back on her face, "I doubt Hayley has got all day." I took the papers the brunette was holding out with a polite smile and a nod.
"If you could complete those and bring them with you tomorrow, Freen," Hayley said holding out her hand for me to shake. "We'll get you all sorted out ready for the afternoon. I'm really looking forward to seeing you in action. Have a nice evening. If you need anything, let me know; my number's at the top of the paperwork."
Her handshake was lingering and with a gentle squeeze of my fingers, she said her goodbyes and strutted off, her ass waggling as she went, getting second glances from all the men she passed. I shook my head in disbelief and looked across at Becky with an amused smirk.
Becky, however, was no longer smiling. She was just standing there staring at me. If looks could kill, I was deader than a dodo. Something told me I was in trouble.
-----
"What the fuck was that about, Freen?" Becky hissed as we got into the back of the car we've been driven around in all week, heading back to our hotel.
"What was all what about?" I asked, guessing what she was referring to, but wondering where she was going with it. I didn't expect that she would react this badly though.
"You and that fucking Hayley girl. Jesus, could you have flirted any harder with her?"
"I was not flirting with her, Bec," I said quickly, trying to defend myself. I replayed that conversation in my head and concluded that I was right. I hadn't been flirting with her. Fuck's sake, I wasn't even the slightest bit interested in her. She reminded me far too much of someone else, someone who wasn't Becky.
"Freen, I was stood next to you for fuck's sake. I saw it all, Jesus I fucking watched you doing it..."
"Bec" I interrupted as calmly as I could, trying to reassure her. "I'm telling you, I was not flirting with her. She might have been trying to flirt with me, but I have no interest in her at all. For one thing..." I started, staring into the brown eyes that were looking hurt, brown eyes that turned away to stare out of the cars window, I could see her blinking furiously in the reflection and I pressed on regardless.
"...for one thing, she's too much like my ex; and for another, very important thing," I said leaning across and cupping her chin with my hand, tuning her head and drawing her towards me gently. "...I happen to be very happy with a beautiful, if a little short, woman of my acquaintance."
"I am not short," she replied swiftly, her eyes softening slightly from the agate rocks that they had been moments before; "but you have been spending far too much time with those girls for my liking."
"Bec," I said, running my fingers down her cheek, "are you jealous or something?"
"No, no I'm not." She said folding her arms across her chest, but not removing me hand. "I'm not jealous. Why would I be jealous?"
"I have no idea," I said closing the distance between us and kissing her cheek, "no idea at all. But you seemed ok before I came over to speak to that girl, and you've been angry with me ever since."
"Well, I'm not," she said huffily leaning back and folding her arms. "I just think that you spend too much time with them, that's all. It seems whenever I turn my back, you fuck off to hang around with them, and I'm not sure I like it."
"Who else can I hang around with, babe?" I asked her, sliding across the bench seat in frustration,leaning against my own door. "You don't take a break, James doesn't take a break; apart from Richie, who is never around, I don't know anyone else here. I went for lunch one day and got chatting, it was just nice to have someone else to talk to, you know?"
She looked at me, those expressive eyes hardening one more as I bit back. For some reason, that annoyed me more than the jealousy and the suspicion. Before I knew what I'd done, I'd used a line that seemed to haunt me through my last relationship and finished it with a slap.
"A little bit of trust wouldn't go amiss, Becky. Jesus, you're acting just like Amanda used to."
I held her gaze for a second and watched as her jaw fell in shock and surprise. After a second, she looked down at the hands that were now wringing each other in her lap. I turned away, staring out of the window myself, mimicking her posture from moments ago. I was actually more than a little annoyed with her, I don't mind the idea that she was jealous, at least she was jealous of the right thing; unlike Amanda.
But the idea that she thought so little of me, that she didn't actually trust me, hurt more than a bit. It was a weird feeling actually, one that I wasn't really used to. I don't do feelings, not like these anyway, and I grumbled inside my head at the effect she was having on me.
"Freen?" she said, reaching out to touch my shoulder. I stared out at the passing shops, banks of mini-mall's and liquor stores and everything in between, passing by as we drove back to our hotel. "Freen, it's not a question of not trusting you, it's just..."
"Just what?" I said, staring intently at a passing fuel station, avoiding the need to turn around and look at her.
"Nothing, nothing important anyway, just me I guess," her voice trailed off and I felt her hand leave my shoulder. I wanted to turn around and see what was the matter, but the stubborn part of my mind kept me staring out of that window, staring out at the passing snippets of Americana.
We lapsed into silence for the rest of the journey. I was lost in my own thoughts, but there were far too many to contemplate. What I really needed was some time alone. I needed some time in the hotel pool where I could get my head together and come to terms with what was going on. Our relationship had hardly been rushed, not by my standards anyway, but it had taken some pretty big steps recently, and I wasn't at all ready for another bout of living with a jealous bitch.
I needed some time on my own, of that I was sure. Thankfully, Becky had plans to try the hotel spa and hadn't protested when I told her that she needed her "alone time" as well. I sat on my bed in our hotel room, wondering what the fuck had happened between us. I mean, I'm hardly an expert at relationships but I did think things were going well between us. Certainly, I didn't think I'd done anything that would have warranted her reaction, I didn't think I'd done anything wrong. I fell backwards onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
I rolled across the bed and picked up the phone, dialing down to reception and asking them to put me through to the UK. I gave them the number I had memorized, and after a short wait, I heard a tired, but familiar, voice pick up.
"Hello?"
"Joanna, it's Freen," I said, feeling guilty as my brain did the maths and I realized how late it was over there.
"Freen, this is unexpected," Joanna said, her voice suddenly alert as if a switch had been flicked on in her head. Suddenly, she was Dr Joanna Foster and I could almost hear her brain working as she switched modes. "What's the matter?"
"That obvious, am I?" I joked feebly.
"Freen, you've rung me at quarter to eleven at night, on a number I told you to use if you needed me. Of course it's obvious, now tell me what's going on in that head of yours. Is it the nightmares again?"
"No," I told her emphatically, "the nightmares have been easier recently." They had, they hadn't gone away but they were manageable. The little revelation about Whitey's death taking the edge off my guilt.
"So it's Becky then, what's gone wrong between you two?" she said cutting to the chase immediately. I could hardly blame her that late at night.
"It's all been a bit weird," I said, trying to vocalize the thoughts that were running riot in my skull.
"Becky and I have got a lot closer over the last few days..."
"ahhhh, you two took the plunge then. Took your relationship to the next level so to speak."
"We've been sleeping together if that's what you mean," I replied a little tersely.
"Yes, Freen," Joanna sighed, "that's exactly what I meant. So are you going to tell me what's bothering you, or are you just going to start fighting me again?
"I have no idea what's going on, that's what's bothering me. She blew her stack at me today for hanging around with some of the girls from the show. She's spent every minute here in meetings and she's having a hissy fit because I found some people to talk to. It's fucking ridiculous, she's acting like my ex."
"Like Amanda? How so?"
I outlined Becky's behavior over the last couple of days, the distance, the sniping and of course, the conversation in the car.
"So you appreciate she's stressed out about the exhibition?" Joanna asked when I finished recounting my side of the story. I just grunted my agreement.
"Freen, you're just having a wobble."
"A wobble," I repeated stupidly, wondering what she meant.
"Yes, a wobble. Let's face it, you both have issues, you've both been through a lot recently and you've just taken a pretty big step at a time that's not exactly relaxing for either of you."
"That's as may be," I told her, "but it's like she's trying to blame me for something, and I've done nothing wrong."
"..and you're trying to blame her for not being around when she's just doing her job. Jesus, Freen, I thought we were making progress with you."
I bristled at her interruption, only to hear her laugh at the other end of the phone. "Look, Freen, this is nothing to worry about, everyone goes through this at some stage in their relationship. You've not because you've always had the opportunity to run away from..."
"I don't run away from things," I nearly shouted down the phone, again I could hear the amusement in Joanna's voice.
"Oh, Freen, of course you run away from things, everything you've told me over the last few weeks tells me that. You might not do it literally all the time, like you did with your ex but you do run away from things. Listen," she said as I went to interrupt her once more, "you used your attitude to run away from the problems you had at school and with your mother, you used the army to run away from Amanda and you use that head of yours to run away from everything else."
"That's not true," I retorted feebly, knowing that it was.
"Let me guess," Joanna pressed, "you're sat alone, Becky's off somewhere else and you're already thinking of going swimming so you can think it all through."
I didn't reply, the fucking woman knew me too well. The silence continued to hang between us like a veil until finally Joanna spoke again.
"Freen, it's late and I'm tired, but I want you to do this for me. When you go swimming, rather than just fume about Becky, I want you to think about the whole situation, and how you're reacting to it all and more importantly why. I want you to be totally honest with yourself about everything, okay?"
"Yeah," I said finally.
"Good," came the reply, "now if you don't mind, it's quite late and my husband is giving me daggers for keeping him awake talking. Think about what I said, Freen, it's just a wobble. Your first wobble with Becky, probably your first wobble ever. It's not that big a deal, but how you handle it is; you just have to think about what's important to you, can you do that?"
"I can," I said confidently, sitting up on the bed. "Thanks Joanna, I'm sorry to have disturbed you so late."
"That's ok, that's what I'm here for. Call me if you need me, okay? Just, see if it can wait until the morning please. Good night, Freen, good luck."
"Good night, Joanna, thanks again."
The line went dead and I tossed the handset onto the bed. "Wobble," I snorted dismissively as I jumped to my feet rooting in my drawer for my swimsuit. "What am I, a fucking Weeble?"
Thirty minutes later, I wasn't quite so dismissive. It was dinnertime at the hotel and their small indoor pool was now empty, there had been a small family in when I arrived, screaming and laughing as they splashed away together, but by the time I'd got changed, they were gone. Presumably joining everyone else in the search for their evening meal.
I wasn't hungry. I was annoyed and for length after length, I ignored Joanna's advice and stewed and fumed about the utter injustice of Becky getting mad at me over just talking to some other girls. We were dating sure, sort of. We were sleeping together even, mostly she didn't fucking own me, though. She couldn't dictate who the fuck I spoke to and how. With my mind racing, I dived headlong into the pool, cutting through the wavelets like a knife.
As the water surrounded me, enveloping me in its cooling embrace, I found the solace I'd been searching for and missing for weeks. Joanna's techniques were good, but they were no substitute for the real thing. They were no substitute for the sheer ecstatic bliss of submerging yourself in real water and just losing yourself swimming. As my pulse pounded away in my head from the exertions, I bullied my way through the water, not even feigning the attempt to be graceful.
I knew that I needed to clear out my anger before I could even attempt to follow Joanna's advice. With that in mind, I pushed myself harder and harder until I could feel my lungs burning with the strain. For length after length of the short pool, I swam away my worries. As my anger passed through the cleansing effort of good, honest exercise, I came to the realization Joanna had probably been pushing me towards. I thought about everything we'd gone through, how stressed Becky had been and how stressed I had become about everything, too.
Perhaps I had, in turn, overreacted to her overreaction. Maybe I had been a bit unfair in saying what I had, chucking the ex-bomb in her face and not even apologizing for doing it. It's funny how you can hurt someone without meaning to; funny how you could be hurt without expecting it... and that was it, wasn't it; the whole fucking truth. Becky had fucking managed to hurt me... me!
Just how the fuck had that happened? How the fuck did she sneak in under the wire and ambush me? When did she make me care that much?
It hit me hard as I swam. Until now, there had been only one person in my life that had the capacity to hurt me with just a word, with just a disappointed look, and she was long dead. The realization was difficult for me to take.
I cared about Becky, I cared about her a lot more than I had realized.