The Bringer

Really she couldn’t be further from the truth. If only she did know.



“I don’t want James’ money.” My voice sounds thick and wobbly.



She laughs caustically. “Well for someone who doesn’t want his money, you’ve done a pretty good job of spending it so far.” She points a long nail at my dress, trailing the length of it.



I glance down at it. Then my eyes blur and I feel water trickling down my cheek. I touch my fingertips to my face. There’s water coming from my eyes.



I’m crying.



“Oh god, don’t start the waterworks,” she says callously. “I’m not James. Tears won’t work on me.”



I look down at my hand to see the tears running carelessly down my fingers.



So this is how it feels to cry. Funny, really, that Sara’s the one who manages to make me cry for the first time, the one whom I vie with for James’ affections. Quite poetic really.



She’s glaring at me with utter impatience, her foot tapping against the wooden floor. I find my voice and, even though it’s weak, I manage to get out, “No, Sara. You’ve got it all wrong. Really I don’t -”



“Come on, I’m not stupid,” she chides, sweeping her blonde hair off her face, in that one motion managing to make me feel like I imagine a child might, even though I’m years - far beyond her imagination – older than she is. “If its money you’re after, I’ll give you some and you can be on your merry way and leave James the fuck alone. How much will it take to get rid of –”



“What the fuck are you doing?” I jump at the sound of his James’ fury and my eyes snap up to see him stood in the doorway.



Sara spins around at the sound of his voice. He looks angry, really angry, and Neil is stood behind him looking really uncomfortable.



“Jesus Christ, Sara, what is with you,” James says, frustrated. “It’s all I hear from you at the moment. Just what the fuck have you got against her?”



My eyes dart between James and Sara who has now sidled around the island putting a bit of distance between her and James. I really don’t want to here, to be part of this. I want to move, get away but I can’t, I’m rooted to the spot.



“She’s just using you James, can’t you see that?” she says, face red, voice slightly unhinged.



“She’s not using me, you idiot. She’s just living in my house and, really, what the fuck has any of this got to do with you?”



“What has this got to do with me?” Her eyes widen and she grips her head in frustration. “It’s got everything to do with me! You’re my best friend, you’re like my family and I won’t stand by and watch this little bitch bleed you dry because you’re blinded by a pretty face!”



“What the fuck!” He shakes his head with disbelief. “I just don’t fucking believe you! She. Saved. My. Life.” He enunciates every word, singly and distinctly. “What is it that you don’t get about that? I owe her everything! I’d be dead if it wasn’t for her! She pulled me from a burning car, risked her own life to save me! I’d give her a fucking million quid if I could! So trust me, giving her a roof to live under until she gets back on her feet doesn’t seem that big a deal!”



“But you don’t know anything about her –”



“I know enough.” His voice comes out as sharp as a knife.



I see the tears welling in her eyes that she’s furiously blinking back. That’s also when I notice a few people standing behind Neil, obviously hearing the commotion, come to watch the show, a show I do not want to be a part of.



My legs finally obey the commands my brain is giving them. I take a side step edging toward the door. “I’ll go.”



“No, Lucyna. Stay where you are.” James points me to the spot. And yet again I freeze. “You’re not the one who should be leaving,” he says forcibly, eyes narrowed and fixed on Sara.



“I don’t believe this!” she cries. “You’re choosing her over me.”



“There was never a choice,” he says coolly.



I see her flinch as his words hit her, and honestly the level of hostility in his voice takes me by surprise too.



Neil sidles past James heading straight for Sara. “Come on, Sara, I’ll take you home.” He puts his arm around her shoulder and steers her away. “We’ve all had a bit too much to drink. Talk about it tomorrow when you’re sober.”



As they both move past where I still stand, Sara’s eyes dart over at me, giving me a parting look of such anger, such resentment, it blankets my skin with a chill.



James comes over to me now everyone’s left the kitchen and places his hands on my shoulders, his fingers gently gripping me. My skin burns under his touch. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s got into her. She shouldn’t have spoke to you like that.”



“It’s fine.” My voice comes out a shaky whisper.



“No, it’s not. You don’t deserve this.” He wipes away the teardrops that have once again started to cascade down my cheek with his thumb, his hand encompassing my face. His thumb traces down my jaw, lightly brushing over my lips. I glance up at him. His eyes are on my lips, lips that want the feel of his on mine. His eyes move up to mine, dark pools that are now flickering and flaming, and I couldn’t move even if I wanted to. There’s something in the way he’s looking at me that’s makes my legs feel wobbly, that look eliciting all those feelings for him I’ve hidden, all quickly bubbling up to the surface.



My skin is prickling with desire. He holds my face in both his hands, his fingers tenderly invading my hair, eyes set on mine, unwavering, as he leans closer to me, my eyes closing in anticipation . . .



“Oh, sorry, mate.”



James instantly steps away from me, turning to the sound of the voice. My body wilts with disappointment. I look past him to see Joe, one of the men that works for him, stood in the doorway.



Joe looks uncomfortable, about as uncomfortable as I feel when I notice the three other people hovering behind him, my cheeks instantly colouring as to the size of our audience.



“Sorry to interrupt, just –” Joe thumbs over his shoulder at the others, “-well we’re – er – well we’re gonna head off.”



“Oh right, yeah, no problem, mate. I’ll see you out,” James says. He glances back at me, his look unfathomable. Then he’s turns and leads his friends out the door.



And I’m left there feeling alone, and very, very confused.



Chapter 10



Starry Eyed



James hasn’t said anything about the almost-kiss and neither have I.



Well truthfully we’ve barely spoken to each other since.



Not long after Joe and the others left, the other party guests pretty much followed suit and the party soon dwindled to a close.



Now it’s just me and James left cleaning up the debris in complete and utter silence.



And the tense atmosphere is back, with a vengeance, almost as if whatever’s been brewing in the air for the last few days has now hit boiling point.



James drops a bag of rubbish into the bin with a clang and then, taking some time to do so struggling with his leg, awkwardly sits himself down on the blanket that’s laid out on the grass. He rests back on his hands, legs stretched out in front of him and looks over at me.



“So, did you have a good night?” he asks, voice normal, as though nothing nearly happened between us just under an hour ago, making me momentarily wonder if I imagined it. “Well apart from when Sara flipped out on you, that is,” he adds.



I refrain from thanking him for the reminder, and skipping over the addition, I say, “Yes. I had a really lovely time. Your friends are all very nice.”



“Apart from Sara.”



I look down and shuffle on my feet.



He laughs. “It’s okay, you don’t have to like her. I wouldn’t if I was you.”



I take a moment to process my feelings. “I don’t dislike her. I think I’m just confused by her.”



He laughs again. “That’s a nice way to put it. A hell of a lot nicer than I would have.” He rubs his forehead and pushes his fingers into his hair. “I just don’t know what’s with her at the moment? Why she’s got it in for you?”



I drop my bag in the bin and go sit beside him, crossing my legs in front of me, and rest back on my hands. “Does it make you sad?”



He turns his head to me, gaze fixed on mine. “It only makes me sad because she’s hurting you.”



“I’m fine.”



“I wouldn’t be if someone said those things to me.”



I shrug because right now all I can think about is how close my hand is to his. Really close. I could literally just reach out my finger and touch him. And with all these intense feelings floating around me, it’s very hard to resist the urge to do so.



James shuffles his position and his fingers lightly stroke against my hand. My skin prickles. He doesn’t move them away.



“And just for the record,” he says, voice deep and sure, “I don’t think a word of those things she said is the truth. I don’t believe you’re after my money.” He nudges my arm with his. I look at him to see he’s now grinning. “Not that I have as much as she seems to think I do. It’s not like I’m a millionaire or anything.”



“It wouldn’t matter to me if you were.”



He rests his chin on his shoulder, regarding me closely, eyes curious. And my whole body shivers, though I’m not cold. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Lucyna. You don’t seem to care about money or material things. You just seem so . . . relaxed with who you are. “



“Is that wrong?”



He shakes his head, smiling. “No, it’s refreshing.”



He rests his head back and gazes up at the night sky and I follow his gaze. The stars are out in force tonight, twinkling down on us, leaving me feeling very starry-eyed, or maybe that’s just from the effect his touch is having on me.



James’s quietly shuffles closer to me and lays his fingers over mine, gently gripping them with his. He’s practically holding my hand and all my thoughts have gone fuzzy.



In attempt to clear my mind I say, “James, I wanted to say I’m sorry I didn’t get you a gift for your birthday –”



He waves me away with his free hand. “Don’t be stupid. I know you’re not in a position to be buying me stuff – and I don’t need anything anyway.”



“I know but still . . .” My voice peters off.



We lapse into silence.



“I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk much at the party,” he says. “I didn’t seem to get a minute to myself. But I saw that Neil kept you company.”



“Yeah, he’s nice,” I say struggling to concentrate as he now traces his fingertip in concentric circles across my hand.



“Yeah, Neil’s a good bloke . . . so what did you guys talk about?” he asks, his voice suddenly quieter.



And Neil’s words come flooding back to me. I press my lips together, suddenly feeling nervous, anxious, tempted . . .