Page 119 of Scarred by You

“You look fucking rough, man,” Jay says.

“Yeah, cheers. Get me a beer, dick.”

My first drink of the week goes down easily, and I trade the empty glass for a second pint. I listen to the conversation, but mostly just look around the bar, as if I might see her in a place I don’t think she’s ever been.

“Clark, I thought that was you.” Amanda — a tall, leggy blonde who I slept with once a few years back after a drunken night out.

I lean in to kiss her cheek as the other men gawp at her tits in her tight white shirt that should probably be buttoned up an extra one. “Nice to see you, Amanda. How are you?”

She speaks to me but I hardly listen. It’s mindless crap about her day trading commodities. Maybe that’s something I could do.

Jay buys her a drink in our next round. I could kick him. I just want rid of her, but Jay can’t take his eyes off her pert arse, which admittedly looks hot in her pencil skirt.

“I’d love to get out of these work clothes,” she says into my ear. “It’s been a long day. How do you fancy coming back to my place where we can chill out a little?”

She leans into my side, pressing her tits against my arm. Any other day, my cock would be twitching, but even as she rubs herself against me and grips my thigh, all I can think is that Dayna wouldn’t behave like that.

“Sorry, Amanda, I’ve got to be up early tomorrow.” I shout over to Jay, “Hey Jay! Get Amanda another drink, bud?”

He comes over, taking the hint. “What would you like, Amanda? You look like a Cosmopolitan woman to me.”

She giggles and slaps him on the arm. I pat Teddy on the back and slope out of the bar.

DAY NINE.

I’m standing in the kitchen finishing a bowl of porridge when I get a call.

“Clark Layton.”

“Clark, John Hatfield here. We met in North Dakota at the Swinston charity bash last year.”

“I remember. Hi John. What can I do for you?”

“I heard on the grapevine you’ve stepped down from Layton Oil. I just wanted to make sure I got my facts right, from the horse’s mouth and all that.”

I put my bowl in the sink and rinse it under the tap. “Your facts are right.”

“Listen, there might be an opportunity coming up at Travis International, and I was wondering if you’d be interested in meeting to talk about it in the new year? It’s on the QT for now, but I’ll be in London early January.”

I agree to lunch on the third of January and hang up the phone. Maybe I should start getting my arse back in gear. I can’t live on savings forever.

And she’s not coming.

I head to the gym and train with Sam. After that I help him out, taking kids for one-on-one training sessions. The gym is packed with testosterone-fuelled teens. Term has finished at schools and universities, and Sam’s gym has a solid name, so a load of rich kids who want to blow off steam and sharpen their pecs for picking up women flood the place. It kind of makes me smile. I used to be one of those rich kids. Helping out feels sort of good.

It’s already dark outside when Jay comes into the gym. I’ve worked out enough for the day, but Sam still has energy so spars with Jay. I watch, talking to Jay when he takes two minutes out. We avoid talking about Connie, for now. It’s still early days, and I’d like to think we’ll all get to a point where we could be comfortable to hang out together again, but any time soon would be pushing it.

We leave the gym together and pick up a pack of twelve Buds on the way back to my place. Snow must have started falling while we were in the gym because it already lightly covers the ground. Huge soft flakes continue to fall, and as pretty as they are, we’re in gym gear, not winter gear, so we jump the gate and cut through Hyde Park because it’s quicker than walking around. We’re close to my front door when I stop dead in my tracks. Jay stops talking and follows my gaze to Dayna.

She’s wrapped in a big blue coat with a fur hood and wears a cream wool hat to match her gloves. The hair that falls across her shoulders is sprinkled with snow. Her cheeks and nose are pink from the cold’s bite.

“It’s snowing,” I say, not moving from the spot.

She laughs and sniffs, rubbing her nose. “I know.”

“How long have you been out here?”

“A while.”

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