Whispers

Jackson hands me the key to our room with directions on how to find it, and then I slip out to get five minutes of peace. I find the room easily enough and, once inside, I pop a couple of tablets and wash them down with a cold bottle of water from the minibar. I splash some water on my wrists relishing in the feel of the cold liquid before retouching my makeup. When I finally begin to feel some relief from the pounding in my temples, I decide that I’m ready to leave the room.

I am just about to turn a corner in the corridor when I hear someone say my name. I freeze, then flatten myself against the wall as voices, which I recognise as belonging to Cara and Lisa, Evan’s pregnant girlfriend, begin discussing me.

“I can’t believe he brought her,” Cara spits with the kind of venom you would reserve for your worst enemy. “I mean, come on, he’s known her like two minutes.”

“Yeah, but she’s the flavour of the month, and from what Evan says, he is completely infatuated with her,” Lisa responds in a more measured tone.

“I have no idea why, though… I mean, look at her. She’s a barmaid, for heaven’s sake.” My hands start to shake at the vitriol coming my way.

“Well, you know how Jackson likes to slum it sometimes. It’s just a phase…” Lisa trails off. “Anyway, give him a couple of weeks to get her out of his system, and then he’ll be hopping a plane back to his condo in L.A. Brody says he hasn’t introduced her to James, so it can’t be that serious. You know he would never do anything without his big brother’s seal of approval.”

“Oh my God, did you see the video Chase took of her dancing on the bar that night they all went out? Total slut, right?” There’s a glee in Cara’s voice that has me ready to vomit.

My heart pounds as the voices get softer as the girls head back down the corridor. Their words are running around my mind. Jackson has a condo in L.A.? He has a brother, for fuck’s sake? What the hell? I didn’t know anything about that. And then there is the humiliation that there is a video of me drunk off my arse doing the rounds of Jackson’s friends. Well, there is no way in hell I am going back downstairs. I slink back to our room, shaking as I try to stop the tears from falling.

I am just sinking onto the bed when I hear the handle turn, and Jackson walks in. He takes in my tear-stained face, then strides across the room to kneel in front of me. “Baby, what’s the matter?”

“Why did you never tell me you had a brother? Or a condo in L.A.? Or even the fact that there is a fucking video of me doing the rounds of your friends?” My body is vibrating as I spit out my words, the hurt that I am feeling making me lash out.

Jackson’s face blanches. “What the hell, Kat?”

“The whole time I knew this was too good to be true!”. My fight-or-flight instincts are kicking in, though I’m not sure which is going to make an appearance. Fight it is, I decide, as a rush of intense anger courses through me.

“Clearly, I am not good enough if you haven’t even introduced me to your brother, who apparently needs to give you his seal of approval. So, what was all of this, hey? Slumming it with me until something better comes along?” I spew out the hurtful words that Cara and Lisa used.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on here,” Jackson snaps, pushing off his heels and beginning to pace the room.

“Secrets, Jackson, that’s what. You were so determined to get to mine, yet you seem to be keeping the motherload.”

“I have never kept any secrets from you, Kat. You just never asked.” Jackson hisses at me as he stalks forward to where I am now standing and pushes into my personal space. “You never fucking asked. Everything is all about you, Kat. Your issues, your emotions, your fucking illness. You have never once asked me a truly personal question.” Jackson is breathing heavily at his outburst, and I find my mouth hanging open at the venom in his voice. Evidently, he’s been holding a lot inside. I take a step back trying to gain some control of the situation.

Pushing a hand through his hair in agitation Jackson lets out a deep sigh. “Relationships. Trust. It works two ways, Kat. You have been pulling back from me for weeks, ever since you told me you loved me. It’s like you are trying to find any excuse to make this relationship fail.”

“Fuck you, Jackson!” I scream at him. Tears start to fall and, as fast as I swipe them away, more take their place until I’m sure there’s a river of mascara making its way down my face. Great, it took an hour to do my makeup this morning and now everything has been undone in a matter of minutes.

“You can’t even admit it to yourself, can you? You use your illness as a way of driving everyone away. Well fuck this, I don’t need this shit. You can be alone for all I care.” Jackson sounds defeated but I am too buried in my anger to hear the hurt and only take notice of the words.

“Fine!” I grab my clutch and storm towards the door.

Jackson reaches out and grabs my wrist, his fingers digging into the skin. “Where are you going?” he growls. Well, fuck him!

“I am taking me and my dodgy colon and getting the fuck out of here, so you don’t have to put up with my shit anymore. Now, let go of me!” I tug my wrist out of his grasp.

“That’s not want I meant, Kat.” He runs his hand through his hair in agitation once again.

“Bollocks!” I grab the door handle, open the door, and practically run from the room. As I round the corner, I run straight into a hard body. Momentarily dazed, I look up to see Chase who is looking down at me with an amused smile. “And fuck you too,” I yell at him before taking off down the stairs as fast as my heels will allow.

Winding my way back through the manor, I am immensely grateful for the empty corridors. I let out a sigh of relief as I make it out the front door without bumping into anyone. However, as I storm down the drive it occurs to me that I haven’t thought this through. I’m tense, waiting for the moment that Jackson comes chasing after me, but I make it to the gatehouse unaccosted. The security guys give me a couple of odd looks as I approach but are really very helpful when I ask them to call me a taxi. I think my tear-stained face elicited some sympathy because ten minutes later I am sitting in the backseat of a battered old Astra that smells faintly of wet dog on my way to the nearest train station where I can board the next train to London.