though it seems a bit late for that now, and I am clearly going to be awarded hypocrite of the century. She folds her arms, tosses her perfectly straight hair over her shoulders. Then she gives me a wobbly smile. ‘Sorry,’ she says. ‘I should have thought about that before I asked. I let my emotions get the better of me.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ I say. ‘Are you really sure he knows her, anyway?
I can see Tom through the glass, watching us. He’s sitting inside with a hard on under the table. I know what it feels like to be fingered by him. God, I want him to finger me now. I’m trying to focus on what she’s saying, to feel some sympathy for her, but all I can think about is him being all controlled and polite and dorky, only now I know that isn’t him. It isn’t him at all. Tom Hunt, quiet accountant by day, porn star by night.
I force myself to focus. ‘I’m really sorry,’ I say. ‘I should never have shown you that picture in the first place. I don’t know what I was thinking.’
‘No.’ She lifts her head. ‘I’m glad you did. I don’t want to cause any trouble. I want to make that clear. I just…’ She blinks, rapidly, and then says ‘I don’t mind Paul sleeping with other women. Provided he doesn’t do it without me.’
Certain things start to fall into place. I don’t know why it took me this long to figure it out. I’ve been doing what I do for too long to still think that everyone wants or needs a conventional sex life. But I don’t know where the line of right and wrong is in this situation. ‘And you’re sure that Paul knows the woman in the photo?’
She nods. ‘Beyond a shadow of a doubt. She was…’ She smiles then. ‘Pretty unforgettable.’
Something else slots into place in my mind. Paul is Amber’s boyfriend. Victoria is the woman he proposed to, pissing Amber off so much that she dragged Tom Hunt into my studio, dropped his pants and sucked him off. And I took pictures of it. Pictures she intends to use to get back at Paul, only Paul has already seen one of them, as has Victoria. Who is standing in front of me, begging me to tell her who the woman is.
There are not enough degrees of separation in this scenario for me. ‘OK,’ I say to her. ‘Look, give me a chance to talk to her. I’ll pass on what you said. And I’ll give her your number. But I can’t promise anything.’
Then I turn on my heel. I don’t want to say that I run back inside, but that’s the dictionary definition of what I do. I feel like the walls are closing in, like the part of my life I have kept quietly secret for so long has suddenly become as exposed as the people I’ve photographed.
And then I see Amber.
Sat at my table.
With Tom.
And Paul.
I blink a million times, as if that will somehow clear the picture, but it doesn’t. My heart beats so hard I feel sick, the whole place swamped with noise but at the same time shockingly, terrifyingly silent.
Amber waves and calls me over. She’s placed herself between Tom and Paul. Both of them are gawking at her cleavage. To be fair, I’m gawking at it too. It’s difficult not to, what with it resting on the table like that, right next to a half-drunk cup of coffee.
‘Fuck me. Amber is the woman in the photo?’
I’d forgotten Victoria was right behind me. I open and close my mouth a couple of times as I try to figure out whether or not I should lie. I mean, clearly I should lie. Amber is my friend, my best friend, and the last thing I want is for Victoria to go all bat shit crazy on her arse.
But then Amber looks up. I know the instant she puts her gaze on Victoria. A fire seems to flick on in her eyes as Paul sits bolt upright and goes completely stiff. Tom, well. He’s still slouching in his chair, exactly the way he was when I left him. I see the movement of Paul’s throat as he swallows, and then I see something else. Amber’s right hand is out of sight.
And Paul keeps on swallowing and blinking, and suddenly it hits me.
She’s fondling him under the table. And he’s letting her do it. And his fiancée is breathing down my neck, and Tom is right there, on the other side of Amber, and I’m involved in a five-way love triangle without even realising it. How did I end up here? I’m just a photographer. I haven’t even had an exciting two-way love triangle yet, so a five-way one is completely out of my area. This is all going to end badly. Horribly, messily badly, right here in the delicatessen. And I don’t know how on earth to get out of it.
Tom gets up from the table and walks towards me as Victoria whips around the outside, marches to the table, and takes his seat next to Paul. OMG. Any minute now, the world is going to end, and it’s all going to be my fault, and I’ll never have known what it was like to be banged into the middle of next week by Tom Hunt.
And now I’ve made that thought real inside my head, I can’t escape from it. It’s still there, shouting at me, when Tom stands in front of me, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, looking at me in that awkward way of his.
It completely undoes me.
‘Well,’ he says. ‘This day just keeps getting stranger.’
‘You think?’
He nods. ‘It could only get stranger if aliens landed.’ He glances down at the floor. ‘Well, I guess I’d better be getting back to work.’
No. No! We were talking, and he was letting me touch him, and I haven’t touched him nearly enough. ‘Already?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘Could we…’ I stutter over the next word. No matter how hard I try, it won’t come. ‘When will we be able to…that is, I’d like to…’
‘Fuck?’ He supplies helpfully. The woman at the nearest table glares up at us, but Tom is seemingly oblivious.
It’s no good. I can’t say that word. ‘I’d like to see you again. If that’s OKwith you.’
‘Of course.’ He smiles at me, a big, happy smile. Then he reaches out and takes my hand. The gesture is sweet, charming, boyish, and his hand is warm. I shiver at the thought of that hand sliding over my flesh. ‘It is more than OKwith me. Tomorrow?’
Yes. Oh, yes. Please. Yes. But before I can get the word out, a shout comes from behind us. Amber. I dodge around Tom in time to see her storm out, arms folded, high heels loud on the tiled floor. Victoria and Paul are still at the table, and from the corner of my eye I see Victoria lean in, see their mouths touch. Oh, no. This was the last thing Amber wanted. The very last thing. Victoria, you lying bitch, I think to myself. You didn’t want Amber to be part of it. You wanted to know who she was so you could hurt her.
My heart sinks, but Tom is still holding my hand, holding on tight. He is still warm and next to me. He is still here, with me. And I know, now, that I have to be with him. Watching a life fall apart in front of you will have that effect, I’m discovering. I move closer to him, so close I can feel his breath warm my cheek. Everything is so screwed up.
‘I have to go after her,’ I tell him, trying to tug my hand free.
‘I know,’ he says, smoothing a stray strand of hair back behind my ear. The gesture is just a little thing, nothing at all really, and yet my entire body reacts to it. He’s so crude, and then so tender. I don’t know what to make of it at all. ‘But promise me you’ll meet me tomorrow. We need to fuck, Ellie.’
I find that word less shocking, now. But its power to excite me is increasing every time he says it. ‘Where?’
‘Where would you like?’
‘My studio?’ It’s the first place I think of.
His mouth widens into a lopsided smile. ‘Perfect.’
Then he lets me go. But by the time I make it outside, Amber has gone.
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