Duplicity. Part 2

He shrugged his shoulders and held up his hands in surrender. I disappeared into my own head after that. Anger at the whole sorry situation churned anew in my stomach, along with the alcohol, leaving me with a bitter taste in my mouth and an even more bitter taint on my heart.

I'd never considered myself as having a duplicitous personality, but there I was stomping around a stage in a f.u.c.king karaoke club after telling my friends how ridiculous it was to see people up there and how there was no way in h.e.l.l I'd be following suit in my suit.

I looked out over the blurry crowd as the bitterness of the lyrics seeped from my every pore. If only the man was here to listen. If only the father I had idolised and worshipped all my life could hear the way he made me feel. "Undertaker" by Pucifer was a great song choice and expressed my feelings better than I ever could using my own words.

After everything I'd done for him. After everything I'd given up so I could be the perfect son. Following in his footsteps even though I had no real pa.s.sion for law. Everything I ever did was to gain his f.u.c.king approval, and it never happened. Regardless of how much of my life I handed over to him, nothing was ever good enough. And now I was being blamed for the fact that my fiancee had fallen in love with someone else on a business trip. A trip he had sent her on. It really took the f.u.c.king biscuit, that's for sure.

Words flowed from my lips through my gritted teeth as I pictured his face on each of those staring up at me open-mouthed. Their actual faces were already hazy in the bright stage lights, making it easy for my alcohol-induced imagination to take over. I clipped the mic back in its stand and dragged it along the stage with one hand as I pointed at the multiple faces of my father in the crowd. It felt good. Cathartic somehow. He would despise the fact that his lawyer son was up there making a fool of himself.

But I didn't give a s.h.i.t.

In fact, that tiny piece of knowledge made me enjoy it all the more. I leaned forward so I could see the real faces in the crowd. Real people watching me and dancing to the song I had chosen. It freaked me out, and I snapped myself into an upright position, dragged from my bizarre fantasy of telling him what I thought.

The song ended.

The place erupted.

I almost pa.s.sed out.

I was dragged from the stage by my group of friends. I was slapped on the back and congratulated with such vigour that it took me completely by surprise. Their words registered in my brain but I felt like I was having some kind of out-of-body experience.

"f.u.c.king h.e.l.l, Hunter! What was that?!"

"You're a f.u.c.king natural up there, buddy."

"You've been holding out on us."

"Abso-f.u.c.kin-lutely amazing, mate."

What the h.e.l.l had I done?

My heart pounded in my chest so hard I felt it would tear right through the bones and skin that encased it. My mouth dried up and I stared. Just stared into the crowd of familiar faces grinning from ear to ear as they adulated me.

"You're some kind of f.u.c.king Jekyll and Hyde character, Hunter. f.u.c.k!"

Jekyll and Hyde? Was that a good thing?

It sounded about right, though, considering the second personality that had descended as soon as the music had begun. As I stood there and looked to my right, a beautiful, familiar-looking girl with crazy pink hair and tattoos walked by me almost in slow motion. The smoky, smudged make-up around her grey eyes made them stand out as they locked on mine. A smile slowly formed on her full lips just before she turned and carried on walking through the crowd.

Then she was gone.

Had I imagined her in my post-stage-debut haze?

Turning back to my friends, I kind of fell back to earth with a crash as a drink was thrust into my hand. "Here you go, mate. You look stunned! It's hilarious! It's like you were some kind of f.u.c.king clone of yourself up there."

Finally finding the words I needed, I shook my head. "I know...I know. What the h.e.l.l was I thinking?" I laughed at myself as I brushed a hand through my hair and gulped down the shot of clear liquid that burned as it made the journey to my stomach.

More compliments came forth from the guys. "Hey, Hunter, you were f.u.c.king astounding, mate. You should be in a band or something."

"Yeah, eat your heart out Britain's Got Talent. Edinburgh's got Fin Hunter!"

They all laughed and the back slapping began again.

Star You know that song, "It's My Party And I'll Cry If I Want To"? Yeah, well that was suddenly my anthem. Everything had changed in a matter of days and I had plenty to be depressed about. My twenty-fifth birthday came around without much of a fanfare, and that was all my own doing. You see, in light of the week's events, I was feeling homesick for the first time. For starters, my stupid-a.s.s boyfriend, Mick, had given me the whole, 'It's not you it's me' speech-feel free to insert dorky voice-saying he needed his s.p.a.ce, to be alone for a while and that we were moving too fast. f.u.c.king a.s.shole. The s.h.i.t-head dumped me two days before my birthday, but then I saw him out with some brunette from the bar where he worked. They were kissing in a shop doorway when I was on my way home from work. And from what I saw, there wasn't much 's.p.a.ce' between him and her double-Ds.

Then add to this that Mr McYummy was now married.

Married.

He would've been married a whole week by now and was probably off sunning himself on some tropical beach with his new, perfectly mani-pedied bride. I couldn't help myself, though. I still looked for him every morning, but of course, he didn't come by for his coffee. And-regardless of how stupid it was-I worried I would never see him again. Let's face it, just because he'd married the love of his life, didn't mean he'd stop needing his morning caffeine fix now, did it? Unless Mrs McYummy was in charge of that area of his life after the wedding.

Ugh! I hated her.

I hated a woman I had never met but who was good enough to capture the heart of that shy, handsome Scotsman. I hated the crazy sinking feeling in my gut when I thought of him with her. I hated the fact that he'd found someone and that no doubt she would be prim, well-spoken, and perfect. Of course, I didn't know any of this for sure. All I knew for definite was that not seeing him sucked a.s.s and my mornings had gotten a little duller.

Okay, a lot duller.

On top of all this was the fact that I missed my parents terribly, meaning I didn't feel much like celebrating.

Alec, of course, had other ideas. "Come on, Twinkle. You're only twenty-five once, and you have to b.l.o.o.d.y forget about that w.a.n.ker. He wore c.r.a.p clothes and his hair was always a mess. You can do so much better."

Okay, so he was right. Mick had never been long-term boyfriend material, but being dumped was never fun. Alec eventually convinced me that I needed to get out, and so I agreed to go to DeBas.e.m.e.nt. It was our usual drunken haunt in the city where we'd get up and sing a duet of "Dead Ringer for Love"-Alec insisting, as always, that he sang the Cher parts-or some other old rock song that we could murder together. It never failed to make me laugh, even when I really didn't think I was in the mood.

It was Friday night, and I dressed in my black combat boots, ripped fishnets, shorts, and a white tank top with a black Sisters of Mercy T-shirt over the top that had a slashed neck so that it fell off my shoulder. My pink hair was left to dry in natural waves and then messed up a little with product. Like I said before...I'm quirky.

We made our way to the bar to meet up with some of our friends-Alec's on and off boyfriend, Gil, short for Gilbert, being one of them.

Alec opened the door for me like a real gentleman and I spotted the group immediately. Waving frantically, I dashed through the throngs of people and was enveloped in a group hug and treated to a very loud and raucous rendition of "Happy Birthday" whilst hoisted up on the shoulders of two of my male friends, Slater and Conch-Bruce Conchola, in case you were thinking, "Huh?" His mom was from Texas and his dad was Glaswegian-go figure.

Anyway, I felt better already.

The drinks were flowing nicely, and Alec even ordered a bottle of champagne. I was more of a Jack and c.o.ke kind of girl, but it was sweet of him to buy it so I helped drink it anyway. Well, it would've been rude not to, right?

Conch and Mindy, his girlfriend, got up to sing Meatloaf's "Paradise by the Dashboard Light" and the place erupted as they camped up their performance. Conch dabbed at his face with a white napkin-bits of the paper towel getting stuck to his forehead as he did so. It really was hilarious. But the thing I loved about the place was the eclectic music on offer. It wasn't your run of the mill Bette Midler, Diana Ross kind of karaoke. You could literally sing anything you wanted-so long as it was rock or indie.

As the night wore on, we all got more and more drunk, and I was working my way up to my big duet with Alec when a guy walked onto the stage. His head was down so I couldn't see his face, but he looked completely out of place up there-in the club too, if the truth be told. Grey slacks, white shirt, short blonde hair and a tie that had been loosened half way down his chest. Most of the club's regular clientele donned black and were covered in tattoos. He took the mic from Pedro, the club owner and M.C. and stuck it in the stand, then rolled up his shirt sleeves just as the intro began to play.

I recognised it immediately. Now, I know you should never judge a book by its cover and all that, but to say I was shocked at the song choice would be a major understatement. He lifted the mic from its stand once again and began to sing but didn't lift his face to the crowd. His gravel-filled voice sent shivers down my spine. The guy could sing, that's for sure. A rarity in that place. But it was what happened next that had me almost pa.s.sing out right there on the spot.

As the words fell from his lips and the song began to build, he slowly lifted his face and my mouth fell open. My eyes widened and my heart almost stuttered to a halt.

It was him.

It was Mr McYummy, the blonde bombsh.e.l.l from the coffee shop.

"Well, h.e.l.looooo there, handsome," came Alec's voice from beside me.

I swivelled around to face him, opening and closing my mouth like a dying trout. "It's...he's...I..."

Alec burst into fits of laughter and nudged me with his shoulder. "Use your words, Star. Use your words."

I stared aghast in the direction of the stage and at the gorgeous Scottish guy singing "Undertaker" by Pucifer.

Turning to Alec, I pointed toward the stage. "I...I know him."

Alec's eyes widened. "Well, lucky you. Is he gay? Please say yes."

I frowned and shook my head as my gaze trailed back to the stage and I realised I had no clue. He could've been marrying a guy, I suppose. "I...I don't know." But, deep down, I just knew he was straight. I think it was the way we had shared a moment on the day before his wedding. Something inside me knew he wasn't gay.

Alec b.u.mped me again and almost knocked me off my feet, I was so stunned. I glanced back to my best friend and pseudo big brother to find him standing, arms folded. "You can't know him too well then, love."

Ignoring Alec's b.i.t.c.hy comment, I switched my attention back to the stage once again. I watched as the beautiful, clean cut man stomped around the stage like he was meant to be there. Like he owned the d.a.m.n place. The amount of venom and angst he injected into the angry lyrics made me shudder. It was like he was singing them at someone. Someone who had wronged him severely, and I pitied whoever it was.

He didn't quite look like himself up there.

But, oh my G.o.d, was I turned on.

Now, I know that up on a stage with bright lights shining on him, he was bound to look different, ethereal somehow, but his eyes looked a little sunken and...sad. But the rest of his demeanour screamed aggression-the clenched fist and gritted teeth along with the sneer on his lips-so either he was a great actor as well as an amazing singer, or he really was singing the lyrics to someone who'd hurt him badly.

Then it hit me. He was here. Mr McYummy was on a stage in an Edinburgh nightclub. Not on some tropical island with his perfect new bride. Did this mean she was the one who'd wronged him? I hated the fact that my stomach fluttered at the prospect.

What the h.e.l.l is wrong with me?

I could no longer form words, nor could I calm the thundering of my heart in my chest. He was...incredible. There was no doubt in my mind that he belonged up there. His voice alone was o.r.g.a.s.m-inducing, but coupled with his electric blue eyes piercing through just about everyone in the audience-indiscriminate of gender-he had me ready to throw my underwear at him. He had the stage presence of a rock G.o.d. And I was in l.u.s.t.

Head over heels in pure unadulterated l.u.s.t.

Fin By the time I unlocked my apartment door, I felt as sick as a dog. I slammed the door and staggered my way to the bathroom, making it just in time to hurl the meagre contents of my stomach down the pan. What the h.e.l.l had I been thinking? Seriously?

Once I'd finished throwing up, I made my way to the bedroom. Elise's stuff was all gone. An eerie loneliness settled over the place, but thankfully, I was too drunk to really acknowledge it. If only I was so p.i.s.sed that I couldn't remember the events of the night. Unfortunately, and much to my chagrin, I was not. The whole getting up to sing thing whirred around my head. Or maybe the spinning was alcohol induced. I don't know. All I did know was that I could remember what I'd done on that stage vividly.

b.o.l.l.o.c.ks.

I awoke to a loud ringing sound, each and every piercing note drilling another hole into my already tender skull. I carefully opened my eyes and stared up at the ceiling. The noise registered in my hazy mind as the telephone.

Pulling myself to an upright position, I held my head as the room tilted and turned. I managed to clamber to my feet and looked down to discover I was still in yesterday's work clothes. My head was spinning so I took steady steps until I reached the living room where the phone screamed angrily from its cradle.

Lifting it to my ear, I croaked. "h.e.l.lo?"

"Hunter, you're alive. How are you feeling, mate?" Tom's all too cheery voice p.i.s.sed me off. Why wasn't he feeling like death?

I rubbed at my temples. "Um...I feel like utter s.h.i.te. You?"

"I'm okay, pal. Didn't drink as much as you." He laughed and I wished he was here so I could punch him.

"Great. Lucky you." My response was filled with all the sarcasm my poorly head could muster.

His chuckle p.i.s.sed me off further. "Anyways, are you up for a bit of brekkie? Thought a nice plate of stodge might do the trick."

"Um...na. I think I'm going to get some work done, Tom. Thanks, though."

"Oh, come on, Finlay. Live a little, pal. It's Sat.u.r.day. Let's do breakfast and drink plenty of coffee and then if you really feel the need to work, you can do it later, okay?"

I didn't need much convincing, and although my stomach lurched at the thought of food, I couldn't really be a.r.s.ed working either. "Yeah, okay. Give me half an hour and I'll meet you at The Edinburgh Larder, okay?"

"Great! See you there." He hung up and I slumped onto the couch to rest my head in my hands.

Once I'd showered, I felt a little more human, and grabbed the first clean clothes I set my hands on-dark jeans and a blue v-neck sweater. I pulled on my boots and stood in the centre of the vast s.p.a.ce I had once shared with Elise. I would need to move. The place was too big for me, and to be honest, I needed a fresh start. I needed to be somewhere that didn't reek of my father and his money.

Half an hour later, I walked into the Edinburgh Larder and spotted Tom perusing the menu. He looked up and waved as I made my way over to sit opposite him.

"Feeling any better?" he asked with a smirk.

I sneered. "f.u.c.k off."

His responding laugh caused his whole body to vibrate. "I'll take that as a no then." A young waitress came over, took our order, and quickly left us in peace. "So...what happens now?"

I glanced at Tom to see the grin gone and concern etched on his face. The guy took the p.i.s.s out of me constantly, but there was no doubt in my mind about how much he cared for me.

I rubbed my hands over my face as if doing so would bring some ideas forth. "Honestly? I haven't got the slightest clue."

"Are you looking to move out of that penthouse? It's a wee bit big for one, don't you think?"

I nodded as I stared at the tines of my fork. "Funnily enough, I was thinking the same before I left there to meet you."

The waitress arrived and placed our food and drinks down before smiling warmly and leaving us once again. Tom added sugar to his bucket of coffee. "Have you spoken to your folks since the s.h.i.t hit the fan?"

The mention of my parents made my stomach churn. "Na. Don't want to either. I'm tired of all the bull that goes along with being a Hunter. I wish I could f.u.c.king change my name."

Tom threw his head back and guffawed. "Oh, yeah. I can imagine it now. Like that time on Friends where Phoebe changed her name. Johnson McBudgysmuggler would suit you down to the ground."

In spite of the fact that I felt like a bear had beaten me over the head and c.r.a.pped in my mouth, I joined in his laughter.

Fin Monday morning was dull and rainy. The dark clouds overhead matched my mood and the feeling of doom that hung over me. To make matters worse, I'd got up late, so I rushed around like a headless chicken, trying to get myself ready for work. Although, my father was due to be back and I really didn't feel like facing him-this made summoning up the energy even more challenging. We hadn't spoken since the day of the non-wedding and I felt sure he'd have more reasons to have a go at me.

Choosing a black power suit from my wardrobe-in the hope that I'd exude the confidence I was internally lacking-I dressed slowly, trying to delay the inevitable. Thoughts of a pink-haired girl sprang to mind as I fastened my tie. Those eyes. Where the h.e.l.l did I know her from? Why was she so familiar to me? Why did I feel drawn to her? I remembered the slashed T-shirt she wore and the way it gracefully slipped from one shoulder, exposing her collarbone and slender neck. Sisters of Mercy I thought the T-shirt was. She wasn't the type of girl I was usually attracted to, but for some reason, the image of her walking slowly past, smiling, kept on flitting through my mind.

I shook my head. Enough of that, Hunter. You've a father to stand up to. I grabbed my overcoat, keys, phone, and briefcase before heading out of the door and down to the ground floor.

The doorman nodded and opened the main door for me. "It's a cold one, Mr Hunter, sir."

"Yeah, it looks that way, Mortimer. Thanks." I gave a rigid smile and began the short walk to work just as the heavens opened. I'd forgotten to pick up my umbrella and considered heading back, but checking my watch, I realised I was already late.

Oh, s.h.i.tty f.u.c.king s.h.i.t. More ammunition for my father to fire.