Fool Me Twice by Lizzie Morton
Twenty-Two
Becket
I’m struggling to form a coherent sentence. Scrap that I’m struggling to form a coherent thought.
“You don’t like it, do you?” asks Britney.
I shake my head. “You’re right. I don’t like it.”
Her face falls, distraught.
“I love it.”
The dress in question is low cut, but tasteful, and the champagne-colored silk complements her fair skin. It’s outstanding. I can’t stop staring.
She shifts nervously under my gaze.
“Don’t worry. You’ve broken the unbreakable. My dick needs a break.” Her mouth forms the perfect O and I peck her nose. There are a lot of ways I could describe her right now, but the simplest—no frills—seems the most fitting. “You look beautiful.”
Her cheeks turn a shade of pink, visible even under the makeup I watched her apply not so long ago. I curse to myself that we have to leave the comfort of her small apartment and delve into the shit show that is New York City. I hate it here. It doesn’t matter how much time has passed, my feelings for it remain the same.
“We should get going or we’re going to be late.” She walks away and grabs her bag from her room. When she returns with it in her hands, she asks, “Have you planned a speech?”
I tap at my temple. “It’s all up here.”
“That doesn’t fill me with confidence.”
I actually don’t have a clue what I’m going to say. I hate giving speeches, but I’m not about to tell Brit that.
My phone lights up with a message informing me our driver for the night is outside. “We need to go,” I say reluctantly.
“I wish we didn’t have to.” Her eyes tell me she feels the same as I do.
I kiss her and her lips help to calm me, when inside a storm is brewing. I slip my tongue into her mouth, deepening the kiss and my hands trail over the silk of her dress. Losing what little control I had, I back her across the room.
“Becket …” she moans when I suck down on her neck and begin a path of kisses to her breasts.
We’re brought back to reality when my cell rings loudly. “Damn it.” I step away from Britney and answer. “We’ll be there in a second,” I say to the driver and hang up. Our time is running out, I can feel it. Something is about to be thrown in our path, making sure that no matter what we do, or how we feel, we have no chance of survival.
***
I try and fail to shake off my feelings of unease when the limo pulls up outside the venue for the awards. My skin is crawling. I know that New York is going to screw me over somehow … again.
Britney leans across my lap and looks outside, taking in the frenzy of the paparazzi. “Let’s get this over and done with,” she says, sounding as resigned as I feel.
At some point on our journey, the clear blue sky was replaced with stormy greys, and rain bounces off the sidewalk. An assistant runs over holding an umbrella over our heads as we climb out of the limo. Cameras flash all around as we walk towards the red carpet. Britney stops dead in her tracks and I almost slam into the back of her and take us both to the ground.
“Can we just go back to my apartment?” she asks.
I shake my head. “Coach will kill me. The NFL are looking for any excuse to boot me out. I have to do this.”
“I have a bad feeling …” she sighs, flinching as the flashes become relentless and the noise unbearable.
Through gritted teeth, going against everything I’m feeling, I say, “We have to go in.”
We look ridiculous when I plant my hands on her shoulders and march her to the red carpet. That’s where the shit show begins. The paparazzi go wild. I’ve flown under the radar since the media scandal, and this is the first big event I’ve done. Everyone wants a piece of Becket.
“Becket, give us a smile.”
“Becket! Long time no see, smile for the camera.”
“Becket, baby, where’ve you been all my life.”
“B, is this the broad from the sex tape? Baby, give us a moan.”
It’s the last prick that has he me stepping forwards with my fists clenched. Britney grabs my arm before I have a chance to follow through and drags me off the red carpet and into the building. The doors shut and the noise stops, I feel like I can breathe again.
When I face her, she’s plastered on the biggest smile possible, hiding what I know. That she feels the same as I do. Destroyed by the media.
“Well, that was interesting,” she says.
“Tell it as it really is …”
“It was bad.”
Rubbing a hand over my jaw, I try to relieve some of the tension before I look back through the floor to ceiling windows, where I find some of the paparazzi have breached security, and have their cameras pressed up against the glass.
I shake my head and grumble, “Why do you think I’ve always hidden away.”
“I just thought you were boring,” she replies, a hint of a smile on her lips.
Even feeling the way, I do, the sparkle in her eyes calms me. “You know better than anyone, that’s not the case.”
When I wink, all I get in return is, “Asshole.”
“You love it.”
“What I’d love more is a visit to the restroom. Do you mind?”
Placing a swift kiss into her hair, I murmur, “Not at all.”
She moves through the crowd, turning back when she’s almost out of sight, smiling at me like I’m the only person in the room. I wish I could capture the moment in my mind and save it, because at the same time Britney turns her back to me and carries on walking through the crowd, a head full of fiery red hair blocks my view. That’s when everything starts to go wrong.
“Who’d have thought the nation’s favorite porn star could flip it around and become the Sports Personality of the Year?”
“I’m sorry do I know you?”
The redhead steps forwards, offering her hand out for me to shake. I quickly grab two glasses of champagne from the tray of a waiter passing by.
If she’s put out, she doesn’t let it show on her face. “Of course, you know me, silly. I met you with Britney, in Jacksonville. I’m Leigh.”
I don’t know what to do or say, I’m still none the wiser to who she is, so I opt for taking a drink of my champagne at the same time an older woman, with curls tighter than a poodle, wanders over to us.
The bitch I now know as Leigh, turns to the older woman and says with a shrill voice, “Fi, I was just catching up with our favorite football player.”
Fi flashes her perfectly straight, whiter than white teeth at me.
“It’s a pleasure.” I bite back the response that no, it’s really not.
Fi’s face literally doesn’t move. She clearly ploughs as much money into Botox as she does getting her hair curled. Someone needs to tell her that her money would be better spent on other things.
The two of them together make my heckles rise. “What do you want?”
Leigh and Fi, the rhyming duo, don’t even bat an eyelid, the latter most likely because it’s physically impossible for her to do so.
Leigh says, “We saw you were with Britney ...”
“And?”
She turns to Fi and they share a knowing look. “We were concerned.”
“Why?” I scowl.
“Because she set you up, silly.” Leigh giggles.
They’re not telling me anything I don’t already know. Brit and I have already been through all of this, but there’s something on red’s face that tells me there’s more to what she’s saying. Who do I trust? There’s only one way to find out. I have to play their game.
“You would know that how?” I say. She smirks. I know she thinks she’s got one up on me. I’ll let her believe it for now.
“Because I was her boss,” jumps in Fi. “Although I never expected her to take it quite as far as she did.”
The second part catches my attention. What they’re saying doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t fit with Brit’s side of the story.
“The assault case was the most interesting. I didn’t think she had it in her to go behind everyone’s back.”
My stomach turns, this doesn’t feel like a game anymore. “What do you mean?”
“That leak wasn’t to do with us. We don’t cover cases relating to minors, they cause a lot of legal problems. Britney was one of the only people who knew. She jumped ship not too long after, got herself a better job at Allure. I wonder how little Miss Shaw managed to catch the attention of such a prestigious lifestyle magazine? Just something to think about. You make a gorgeous couple by the way.”
Damn it. I don’t know what the hell to think or say. My mind keeps jumping from one scenario to the next, but there’s still a lot Brit and I haven’t talked about. There’s still so much she hasn’t told me: how she ended up at Allure, what it took to get there. How much do I really know about her because she knows nothing about me? I feel sick. I don’t know who to trust anymore. I can’t even trust myself.
I watch as Leigh tosses her hair over her shoulder and starts to follow her boss into the crowd. Before they get too far away, she spins on her heel and says for everyone to hear, “You can’t trust her, you know that, right?”
“It’s none of your business,” I snap, my breath coming out in short spurts, as for the first time in a long while, I begin to lose control of my temper. I lose it because a part of me knows there’s truth in what she’s saying, I know better than anyone how easy it is to wear a mask to deceive everyone around you.
The room begins to bustle as people make their way into the banquet hall for the awards ceremony. I need to find Brit. I don’t even acknowledge Leigh as I start to walk in the direction of the restrooms.
She shouts after me, “You’re a fool if you go back after what she did. It was all her idea. Everything. She’s the one who concocted the whole plan.”
I pause but don’t turn around.
“It’s one thing outing your secrets but the assault case, knowing what it would bring up, knowing how many people’s lives she would put at risk—I’d say that’s unforgiveable.”
I’m left standing in the crowd, questioning why I ever thought I could let my walls down. I’ve spent years keeping people out, and now, I’ve learned the hard way, that I never should have let anyone in.
***
Britney
Placing my hands on the washbasin, I lean forward and stare myself straight in the eye. Get it together, Brit. He’s beginning to trust you. Show him it wasn’t a waste of time. Outside on the red carpet was a circus, and it almost broke the both of us. But tonight means too much to Becket, we can’t let the paparazzi get the better of us. When I’m done with my little pep talk to myself, I throw my shoulders back and stand tall. It’s game time.
Pushing through the door to the restroom, I smack straight into Becket. He places his hands firmly on my shoulders, steadying me.
“We should get seated,” he says. His voice is flat, off, something has changed.
Following closely behind, I wonder what could possibly have happened in the few minutes I’ve been gone. We enter the banquet room, full of the rich and famous, all dressed in beautiful gowns and perfectly tailored tuxes. I’m feeling totally out of my depth. Becket does a quick check of the seating plan then walks away, leaving me behind.
We settle in our seats, just as the lights dim and the room grows quiet. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, but all he does is scowl as he stares straight ahead. Every part of him is rigid, apart from his chest which rises and falls dramatically. He’s pissed.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper.
I get nothing. He ignores me and listens to the speaker on stage who is welcoming everyone to the ceremony. They finish and there’s a round of applause. Before the evening gets into full swing, servers make their way around the room with glasses of champagne.
I take a glass and knock it back in one. Becket doesn’t comment. He still won’t even look at me. I have the urge to bolt. Everything feels wrong, and the guy sitting next to me who was beginning to feel like everything has suddenly become a cold and distant stranger. The whole night passes in the same way, with him ignoring me.
Then, it’s time for Becket’s award.
Despite whatever is going on with him, my heart swells with pride when his name is called out. He stills when the room erupts, applauding The Sports Personality of The Year. The clapping continues but he doesn’t move. For a second, I think to myself he isn’t going to do it, he isn’t going to go up onto the stage. Inside I’m screaming for him to move, he’s worked too hard to throw this all away.
I sigh with relief when he takes a deep breath and stands up. Like he has done all night, he doesn’t even acknowledge my existence. Unlike the rest of the winners who all shook hands with the people around them or leant down and kissed their dates, Becket ignores everyone. His eyes are devoid of any emotion, lifeless. He walks up onto the stage and takes the award from the presenter’s hand with a tight smile.
He clears his throat, and the sound is picked up by the mic, the room goes quiet. My stomach churns. He had nothing planned for his speech and he’s not known for being the greatest public speaker.
“Firstly, thank you to everyone who nominated me for this award. It means a lot. More than you’ll ever know.”
My shoulders sag in relief. He’s taken the safe route.
He continues, “A while back … things weren’t going great, but if I’m not on the field, when do I ever have a fine moment?”
The room fills with polite laughter. My pulse starts to race, and I rub my palms against my dress, not caring whether I leave smears of sweat on the silk.
“I owe a big thank you to the NFL for not giving up on me. I wouldn’t be standing here accepting this award otherwise. Next, I’d like to thank all the fans who have supported me over the years and inspired me to keep going.
“Coach Langford. Thank you for the lessons you’ve taught me, the way you took me under your wing and pushed me forward. Because of you, I learned that sometimes it’s necessary to fall, because when we do, we rise up stronger.
“In football, we prove our worth when we get back up and carry on playing. So, thank you to those who tried to take me down. If you didn’t try, I wouldn’t have fought back. I’m standing here because of you. You tried to break me, but you failed.”
The crowd titters between themselves and I think I’m going to be sick.
The presenter all but shoves Becket away from the microphone before he can say anything else.
It’s wasted effort on their part, the damage has already been done. They might not know it yet, but Becket has announced to the world that everything that happened was entirely my fault.
***
Standing in the afterparty, I search for Becket, but he’s nowhere to be seen.
When the crowd parts slightly, my eyes finally settle on him. He looks back, eyes cold. I barely recognize him. Jerking my head towards the door, I signal for us to leave. I don’t wait for him to respond. If he doesn’t follow, then I have the answer I need: He was never worth my time.
Walking out into the night, I swallow over the lump in my throat. My heels click against the sidewalk and rain splashes up against my dress as I power away, needing space to collect my thoughts. I’m almost at the end of the block when I hear footsteps from behind. I stand on guard. Just in case. Always in case.
“Brit!” Even the sound of his voice makes my skin crawl.
I don’t look back. He doesn’t deserve it. “Follow me,” I snap with venom.
I keep walking until we reach an alleyway which I turn down. We need to be out of sight, away from the eyes of the public. He draws attention wherever he goes, but the conversation we’re about to have needs to be in private.
When I’ve walked far enough into the darkness that it hides us from prying eyes, I stop and gaze straight ahead. I don’t want to look at him, I don’t know if I’ll be able to hide how angry I am, how hurt. I can’t let him see the fault in my wall, if I do, he’ll know exactly where to hit to bring it crashing down. I’m beginning to wonder if this was his plan all along.
“I’m surprised you even came,” I say, so low it’s barely audible.
“I had to leave out the back to avoid the Paps …”
Silence. Neither of us know what to say.
When I eventually spin to face him, he looks almost as broken as I feel. There’s a ringing in my ears. He’s the one that broke us, he did this.
“What the hell was that?” I spit. “I thought we were past all of this?”
“So did I. I met some people you used to work with while you were in the restroom …”
I roll my eyes. I don’t need to ask who he’s talking about. I now know the flicker of red hair I thought I saw in the foyer wasn’t my imagination. Leigh. And where there’s a Leigh there’s usually a Fiona. “Let me guess? They told you a great story.”
“They told me what you did,” his voice is as dark as they alley where we’re standing, and chills run over my skin.
“You knew I was there that night!” I exclaim, throwing my hands up in the air. It’s all I can do to stop myself slamming them against his chest, trying to knock some sense into him. How can he believe two strangers over me? I thought I meant more to him, clearly, I was wrong.
He cocks his head to the side, almost looking amused. “You missed out a few details. How you came up with the whole plan. How you were the one that leaked the assault case.”
The only way to make him feel a fool, for believing people he barely knows over me, is to tell him the truth. “What she told you wasn’t what happened that night.”
He narrows his eyes and sneers. “Please, enlighten me.”
“I had a notepad with me. When you passed out and we were in the car on the way to Georgia, I made notes on everything. It went missing. There was only one person in that car besides you ...”
“Leigh,” he says quietly, putting the pieces together. “It doesn’t change the fact you planned the whole thing.”
I look up at the night sky, exasperated. “You actually believe that? After I just told you that she stole from me.” I step in closer and our chests almost touch. When I raise my chin, the rain hits my skin, getting heavier with each second that passes. “You know me. I’ve told you everything. You know I wouldn’t do the things she said. I might have been there that night, but I had nothing to do with fallout.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because I’m still paying for the past. My mom had a ton of debts with the wrong people. Do you know what happens when you piss the wrong people off?”
He looks down, guiltily.
“Exactly what you’re thinking. They are the reason I accepted the job because I was running out of time and kept missing payments. I needed the pay raise Fiona promised to get rid of them for good.”
He frowns, a signal that he understands what I’m telling him. “I was scared, Becket. I had no choice. So yeah, I might have helped to set you up, but when it came down to it, even with the risks involved, I couldn’t do it. I walked away. It wasn’t me who spread everything, it was Leigh and Fiona, and after everything we’ve been through and how far I thought we’d come, you believed two strangers over me.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asks softly.
“For the same reasons you won’t tell me why you hate New York, why you have nightmares every single night, what the assault case was really to do with.”
He groans and rubs a hand over his face.
“You know everything about me. I hate you right now for what you did back there, but it doesn’t change the fact I’m falling. Please, tell me the truth. Fall with me.”
He grimaces. “Don’t try and make me do this, Brit.”
I take a step back and laugh, but nothing about this is funny. “You’re joking right? You just humiliated me in front of hundreds of people, yet I’m still here putting my heart on the line, and that’s all you can say?”
“I can’t tell you. It’s not just about me,” he answers, his eyes full of pain.
But his pain isn’t enough to make me back down. For us to work as a couple, we need to share our burdens, carry each other through the bad times. If he can’t trust me with his darkest secrets, with his heart, then why should I trust him with mine?
I shake my head and through gritted teeth say, “Then I can’t do this. I won’t do this. I deserve more.” I step around him and begin walking back to the bustle of New York. I need to get away from him.
“Where are you going?” he shouts after me.
“Home. You can stay at your fancy hotel tonight.”
“What about my things?”
My anger flares. This is what he’s worried about? A bag of clothing. “You’re the hot shot NFL player. Buy some!” I shout back, over my shoulder. Turning onto the block, I use the crowds as a shield, allowing them to engulf me as I finally succumb to my emotions and allow my heart to break.
***
The storm set in as I trailed the streets. I was looking for clarity on what just happened with Becket. All I found was rain.
I wring out my hair as I step inside the apartment. Lightning flashes through the windows. I sigh, then turn on the lights. I walk through to the living area, headed straight in the direction of my bedroom. Three things consume my mind: Becket, getting out of my soaking wet dress, my bed. The need for sleep has never been stronger. I go to set my keys in the little dish on the console table. Suddenly I’m plunged into darkness. The sky flashes white outside. I hate New York storms. I stumble my way to the fuse box located near the kitchen.
My breath catches in my throat. All the switches are up.
I slide my hand shakily along the wall. Finding the light switch next to the kitchen I turn the lights back on. Stop being an idiot, Brit. On shaky legs, I walk back towards my room. Apart from the odd rumble of thunder, the silence is deafening. I drop my keys in the dish. They clink when they hit the porcelain. I’m plunged into darkness again.
Lightning flickers. My eyes slowly move to the side. My pulse races. Mom’s eyes stare up at me. The same picture I placed face down when Becket and I first arrived at my apartment. In front of it, there’s a single white lily. I swallow. A huge rumble of thunder echoes through the night. A lightening strobe fills the sky. The whole room illuminates, highlighting a figure in a black hooded jacket standing in front of my window, stock still.
I open my mouth to scream. Nothing comes out.
Another flash startles me. I clench my fists, ready to fight back. I knew they’d come to find me. All my training was to prepare myself for something like this.
There’s a sharp prick to my neck. No training could ever prepare me or make me strong enough to withstand it. My fist flies clumsily out to the side colliding with the picture. The sound of glass shattering fills the room. Consciousness slips out of my reach, and I slump down to the floor.
