Page 68 of I Would Die for You

Storming to the hi-fi, she claws at the tape deck, hitting every button in an effort to eject the cassette.

“Hey,” shouts the girl, attempting to pull her back. But Nicole’s not leaving here without her tape, and if Ben thinks he’s going to usehermusic,hervoice to furtherhiscareer, he’s got another think coming.

She has to tug, the head of the machine still engaged, and as she yanks the cassette out of the hi-fi the tape unwinds, spilling ribbon from its plastic casing. Nicole catches her breath as the heartfelt harmonies she and Ben had pored over lay tangled on the floor—much like their relationship, she supposes.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” shrieks the girl.

Nicole’s nostrils flare, her sense of shame knowing no bounds. “Do you know that your boyfriend in there is screwing everything that moves?” she spits.

The girl laughs. “Oh, darling, were you one of them?” she asks, her tone beyond patronizing.

Nicole swallows her dented pride and the bitter taste in her mouth.

“If you think you’re telling me something new, I’m afraid a hundred other girls just like you have beaten you to it.”

“Well, if you’re still here to tell the story, then more fool you,” snaps Nicole, her anger at odds with her compulsion to get on her knees and gather up the spooled tape.

“It’s just sex,” says the girl. “I’m not so naive as to believe that someone like Ben Edwards wouldn’t need to get it fromsomewherewhen I’m not around.” She makes it sound as if it doesn’t matter where that somewhere is.

“Just so you know, whatwehad transcended that,” says Nicole assuredly, as if trying to convince herself.

“You keep telling yourself that,” says the girl. “WhileI’mthe one lying in bed beside him tonight.”

The thought of another girl nestling into the nook of Ben’s neck, their bare skin touching, makes Nicole feel sick, but worse than that it makes her feel stupid and foolish to have ever believed his hollow undertaking thatshewas everythingheneeded.

“Now, if you don’t get the fuck out of here, I’m going to call security.”

Nicole throws a glance toward the closed bathroom door, where the shower is still running and Ben is no doubt blissfully unaware of what he’s lost—if he even cares.

Is she really going to walk out of here and let him off that easily? Is she honestly going to slope off into the shadows, as if she never existed?

“If you go anywhere near my music,” she yells, going to the bathroom door and slamming her open palm on it, “I’ll dedicate my life to making sure you regret it.”

The girl hurriedly meets her there, taking ownership of the handle. “I’m calling security,” she says, wide-eyed.

“I hope you’re happy living your sad, vacuous life, with sad, vacuous hangers-on,” says Nicole through the door as she throws the girl a look of utter contempt. “You deserve each other.” She turns to leave. “I was always too good for him anyway…”

As she walks down the corridor, devoid of the hopeful spirit she’d come here with, she pretends that it means nothing, that Ben is inconsequential to her. But deep down she knows that if she had the chance to kill him right now, she would take it.

33

CALIFORNIA, 2011

The shrill ring of my phone pierces the bubble I’d inadvertently put myself in, foolishly believing that it would protect me from the past.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Nicole Forbes? Formerly Nicole Alderton?”

“Who wants to know?” I bark, my suspicions so close to the surface that it feels as if I’m giving away the keys to Fort Knox every time somebody asks me a question.

“My name is Jack Adams and I’m a solicitor here in London.”

Blood rushes to my extremities, making my toes curl and fingertips tingle. Clearly Brad didn’t take my threat seriously enough. “I know what’s going on here,” I say. “You’re wasting your time.”

“I-I’m sorry,” says the man, who I imagine sitting in an office down the road, faking a bad British accent. “I don’t understand.”

“I know what Brad’s been doing, but he won’t win, so you can stop playing this vicious game.”

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