“Johnnie,” she says, touching his arm. She means it as a gesture of affectionate friendship, but Johnnie clearly takes it for an opening.
He surges forward, and then his mouth is on hers.
It’s a clumsy kiss, more enthusiasm than technique, and Mari is so startled by it that, for the briefest moment, she allows it.
But the whole thing just feels awkward, like she’s kissing a little brother or something, and she pulls away, her hands coming to his rest on his cheeks.
“Johnnie,” she says, her voice soft, and she expects him to give her that wry smile, that almost sheepish shrug. Worth a try, he’ll say, and they’ll laugh it off. Maybe he’ll be a little embarrassed, but not actually regretful.
Mari can see it playing out all so clearly in her mind that she’s confused when Johnnie’s expression goes hard, his hands grabbing her wrists.
“Right,” he says, his lip curling. “Johnnie.”
There is an ugly kind of sneer in his voice, and Mari stares up at him as he pushes her away. “So, you’ll have it off with Noel, and you’ll end up marrying that prick Pierce even though he’s fucked your sister and drove his wife to suicide, but I’m just Johnnie, right? What was it Noel said? Ah, right. Bit of a spaniel.”
“That’s not—” she starts, but he shakes his head.
“Nah, don’t tell me that’s not what it is. I can fucking well see it, can’t I?”
He points viciously toward the front of the house where she assumes Pierce must be. “He treats you like shit, and you won’t have the guts to actually leave him because if you do that, you gotta admit that it was all for nothing, right? That you fucked over your family and his innocent wife, all for some piece of shit who wasn’t worth it.”
The words come out in an angry torrent, every one of them stinging, and Mari looks at this man she thought she liked, this man she thought she understood, and realizes he might as well be a stranger.
And the worst part of it is, she knows he’s right. Yes, he’s hurt and he’s being a massive wanker about all of it, but he isn’t actually wrong.
She has thrown in her entire lot with Pierce. There’s no coming back from it, the only way out is through. And, as much as she hates it—Christ, how she hates it sometimes—she does love him.
She always will.
There’s a sound from the kitchen, and Mari looks over to see Elena watching them. She’s pretending not to, her gaze immediately darting to the groceries she was unpacking, but her cheeks are red, and her hands are trembling.
Another story for the villagers, Mari guesses, about the decadent rock stars up on the hill.
“Johnnie,” she says now, lifting her hands toward him. “Please don’t be like this.”
He rubs a hand angrily over his mouth, walking away from her, then coming right back, his eyes wild, and Mari backs up a step.
Johnnie has always seemed sweet to her, charming and boyish, and she doesn’t know if it’s the drugs that have done this to him, but it occurs to her, almost wonderingly, that she’s actually afraid of him right now.
“I asked around about him. About your old man. Called some friends back home, and turns out one of them knew his wife.”
It’s the last thing she expected to hear, and she blinks. “Frances?”
He nods, and there’s that angry gesture again, his hand across his lips. “Yeah. My mate Tom. He went to school with Franny’s brother. Didn’t know her all that well, but said she was sweet. She loved her family, and she could have had a happy life. Except one night, she and a couple of her mates snuck off to London to see some singer.”
Mari’s stomach sinks. She knows this story. Pierce told her his version of it, how Franny had, for the first time in her life, lied to her parents to go to a club in Soho. How Pierce had been playing that night. How he’d spotted her in the front row wearing too much makeup and a dress that didn’t really fit since she’d had to borrow it from a friend and thought how pretty she’d looked.
How sad.
And even though she hadn’t wanted to, Mari had imagined it so many times, wondering if after the show, he’d held her face the way he’d held Mari’s.
How did I go so long without knowing you?
“Next thing you know, Franny isn’t back at school. Family’s frantic, calling everyone, but, sure enough, she’d run off with that prick. Married him in Scotland, and then he knocked her up. And what did he do the second he met someone else, huh? Took off, said that Franny was boring now, that he didn’t want to be married anymore, that he wanted to be free. That he wanted her to be free, too. And now I guess she is, ain’t she? All for some stupid cunt who never actually loved her, and she was just dumb enough to believe his shit.”
Mari shakes her head, but before she can say anything else, Pierce is suddenly there, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
“What did you say about Franny?”
Johnnie whirls around, and Pierce comes into the hallway, his face a mask of fury Mari has never seen before.
“You heard me!” Johnny yells back. “Think you’re God’s bloody gift because you can play a fuckin’ guitar, but all you do is fuck shit up. You fucked up your wife’s life, you’re fucking up Mari’s and Lara’s, and you’re fucking up mine. Telling Noel I can’t play guitar on the album because it’ll be ‘out of place.’ Didn’t think I heard you, did you? Probably forgot I was even fucking here. But what kind of pretentious bullshit is that, huh?”
Johnnie swipes at his nose with one hand, practically vibrating as he stares down Pierce.
“Yeah, well, maybe I didn’t want some lowlife dealer scum fucking up the vibe with his three shitty chords, ever think about that?” Pierce says, and Johnnie throws back his head, barking out a laugh.
“Rich coming from you, mate. At my door every day, asking if I’ve got more, but now I’m ‘lowlife dealer scum’？ Well, you still owe this lowlife ten quid, you dickhead. Or hell, maybe I’ll start giving it to you for free, hope you fucking top yourself. Say hi to the missus when you do, yeah?”
Pierce’s face is white now, and then he’s rushing at Johnnie, and Johnnie has his clenched fist raised, and Mari hears herself, shrill.
“Stop it! Both of you!”
Pierce grabs Johnnie’s shirt just as Johnnie’s fist connects with Pierce’s jaw, making a sick, fleshy sound that makes Mari’s stomach roll.
She can hear Elena in the kitchen, shrieking for Noel, and Lara comes down the stairs, still in her pajamas, her face pale.
“Mari, what—”
“Pierce, stop it!” Mari yells again, trying to grab his shoulder, but he spins around, hard, sending her tumbling to the floor. She hears Johnnie’s roar and another one of those dull thwacks, and then Noel—she’s never been so happy to see Noel Gordon—finally appears, dragging Johnnie away from Pierce with surprising strength.
“Get a fucking hold of yourselves, both of you!” he barks, none of his usual lazy charm now, just the innate sense of authority that comes from your family owning huge swathes of England.
Johnnie skids on the stone floor in his sneakers, and Pierce is on his knees, panting, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. Both of them are glaring at each other, but they don’t make any moves in the other’s direction, and after a moment Noel lets go of Johnnie’s collar.