11th May Cont...
I can't remember getting out of the cage, but now I'm back on the ground, standing next to the bar. I have a vague recollection of Roxy's exs leaving, but where did Roxy go?
Fuck I'm not safe this is exactly the kind of place Daddy Jameson warned me about. The kind of place with shady corners and lots of places to hide.
I'm not hiding in plain sight – I'm in plain sight – unarmed and unprotected. Anyone could get me – one of the punters that me and Jameson turned over, or one of our rivals, or – most terrifying of all – one of my family members.
Suddenly I know I'm being watched. I've got to get out of here. What do I do? I'm used to being the bait – but only when Jameson is laying the trap. On my own, I'm just bait and I have no plan.
I take a breath, try and calm myself. I can't go back out the front door, someone could be waiting for me out there. Fuck. I should have stuck with Freya. She'd make sure I was safe. What was I thinking, sneaking out, not telling her where I was going? Anything could happen to me now and no one would know.
I need a back door. Then once I'm outside, I can get my bearings work things out. But in here I'm a sitting duck.
I get myself to the side of the room, scoot along the wall in the dark, towards the green, glowing fire exit sign. I pass behind a huge speaker in the corner. I'm almost at the exit, almost out of here when two large hands land on my shoulders. My stomach plummets to the floor.
I spin round and face a guy I don't know. He's huge, but he's soft, and he's drunk out of his mind – just trying his luck. I punch his gut and he folds easily, so I run for the exit, push down the handle, and slip through the door, half expecting the fire alarms to go off.
I'm momentarily relieved when they don't, but then realized that's because I'm not the only one to use this exit in an emergency it wasn't designed for. There's always one back door without an alarm, for the regular criminals to use. Shit.
The door slams behind me. Locking me outside. I'm in a car park. It's cold, and it's pouring. Rain so hard it feels like London. Thank God I have my phone in my skirt pocket and not in my jacket, which is still inside. I'm about to call an Uber when I hear voices close by and duck down behind a car.
It's creepy not-hot-as-fuck-barman, and he's talking to a man. I can't see who the man is from behind the car.
"It was her I'm telling you," bar guy says.
"And she was with Roxy? And without Freya Wilde?"
My heart falls. It's you. He's talking to you.
"Yeah, for real. And I heard Roxy say she was coming here."
"And they were alone? Her and Roxy? You're absolutely sure?"
"Yeah, I'm sure. Jesus, I wouldn't have called you otherwise."
You pace behind the car. Running your hand over your scalp, then turn and hand him a bill. "OK, thanks man. I've got it from here – grab yourself a ride back to Johnny's Bar."
"Sure. Just ditch me," he gripes.
"Don't push your luck, man. Now get the fuck out of here. And not a fucking word of this to Freya or anyone else. Do I make myself clear?"
"Sure. Lips are sealed," he says and walks away.
You sit on the bonnet of your pick up, lean forward, hands on your knees and your phone rings. "Yeah?.... Yeah, it's cool nothing to worry about.... No, no. Just a bit of confusion. She's fine. no, no stay where you are."
Are you talking about me? What the fuck is going on?
You tap into your phone and my fucking phone goes off. Shit. I try and switch it off but I'm not quick enough and I drop it. It skids under the car, still ringing.
I drop to my knees, trying to grab it from under the car, but I can't reach it. I lay on my front, trying to stretch under the car for it, praying for it to turn off, or run out of battery. By the time I've managed to grab it I see your feet on the other side of the car, walking around it, towards me.
I don't know whether to run to you, or from you, so I do the only thing I know, I run in the other direction.
I run as fast as I can, heading for the trees at the edge of the car park, but you're on me before I can make it six car lengths. I end up with your chest to my back, and your arms wrapped around me, pinning my arms to my body.
"Get off!" I scream.
"Amber, what the fuck? It's me Macallan."
"Leave me alone," I yell, and your hand covers my mouth.
"Stop screaming, it's me, Macallan."
I carry on screaming, under your hand, until I run out of energy and you say, "Enough, Amber. Jesus."
You take your hand away, and I say, "What are you doing here? Why were you with that guy from Johnny's Bar? You followed me. Why?"
"He called me. Told me he'd seen you with Roxy, and that you were heading here."
"Why? Why would he call you?"
"Because he knows Roxy is trouble. And he knows you belong to me."
"What the fuck Macallan? I don't belong to anyone."
Your hands wrap tighter around my body, as you growl, "You belong to me. How many times do we have to argue this point, Amber? Do I need to put you over my knee to drive the fucking point home?"
"I don't belong to you. I don't know you, and right now I trust you as far as I can throw you. Get the fuck away from me Macallan."
It's as if those words puncture the air out of your lungs. I feel your body go slack and I use the opportunity to push away from you.
I spin around to face you, and shout, "Tell me the truth. Why are you here?"
You stand panting. The rain in your eyes looks like tears, as you say, "You do know me. You know me more than anyone else on the planet. How can you say that?"
The hurt in your voice, and on your face has me moving towards you, desperate to take away your pain, as I say gently, "I don't. I don't know anything about you. I don't know where you go when you're not with me, I don't know who you're with. I don't know if you think about me when you're gone. And most of all,
I don't know what you're doing here right now."
"But I told you – when I'm not with you it's just because I'm at work. And it's just so busy. "
A fire lights inside me, furious and unwieldy. The thought of all the times you've been away too long, with no word. All the hours I've spent missing you, wondering if you'll come back and if I'll see you again. All the feelings of abandonment hit me in one massive blow and I scream, "Too busy to make a call? Are you kidding me? What kind of job do you do if you can't take a minute to fucking call me?"
Your head drops and you run your hand over your scalp. When you look up again, the hurt in your eyes has been replaced by something hard, shuttered, immovable.
"I told you Amber it's complicated."
"Yeah, complicated, I get it," I say, turning away. I start to walk back towards the front of the club. If I stand at the front door, I can call a cab, it'll be too public a place for anyone to try and take me. I can call Roxy to, let her know I've gone back to Freya's place .
I don't get five steps before your hand is wrapped around my bicep.
"Amber? "
"What?" I spin around. "What is it now, Macallan? What the fuck do you want? You want to play with me then disappear again? Is this all just some game to you? Because for me it's not a game. Not anymore. I'm fucking in love with you. Do you know how that feels? It's fucking awful. I've never felt anything like this before and I fucking hate loving you." I'm screaming again, crying now too, as the fucking rain lashes down, making a cliché of me.
Your arms are around me, pulling me into your chest as you say, "I love you too. You know I do. You have to trust me on that. There are things I can't tell you. But you have to believe me when I tell you that I have your best interest at heart. I'm trying to protect you, Amber, and the less you know, the safer you are. I know it's not what you want to hear, but this is me, Macallan, and I'm asking you, Amber, to please just trust me. Can you do that?"
And I know, I just know in my bones that you're telling me the truth and suddenly this murky grey veil lifts, and I realize you're one of my kind. A criminal. Like me. Yes, you may be an artist too. You certainly have the talent for it, but when it comes down to it, you are a criminal first. Just like me.
"You're from my world, "I say, looking up at you as the realization of what that means knocks at my consciousness. "Aren't you? You're from the underworld."
There's a tiny nod of your head, almost imperceptible, but I see it and I know. I'm not the only one playing the game of double bluff. You are too. And though I don't know what your game is, or who you're working for, I know I have two choices, walk away and lose you, or stay and trust you.
What? What do I do? Are we on opposite sides? If it came right down to the wire, where would your loyalty fall? With me? Or against me? But even knowing you could be on the side of my rivals, I know there's not really a choice – not with you. With you there is only one path. So I say, "I trust you. "
You hold me tight as I strangle the sob threatening to escape from my ribs, and then I hear you say, "Come on, let's go home. I need you, Miss Amber "