Chapter 12
The following night, Stephanie pulled into the little car park at the side of the café. She had been mulling over James’s comments from the night before about the feud. He was so intent on her not looking into anything concerning their families, but her research into the mystery surrounding Sophie’s death was just starting to get really interesting. It was like trying to find all the pieces of a puzzle, and some pieces seemed infuriatingly just out of reach. She was too intrigued to give up now.
Her intuition told her that something her great-aunt had stumbled upon remained unresolved. She kept thinking that James had been about to explain something else when Sam had interrupted them.
It was almost dark and the lights were on in the café. On the stage area in the front window she could see and hear the band playing an acoustic version of one of their songs. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and wove her way between the tables to reach the counter where Michael was perched on a bar stool. She smiled at him, relieved to see his friendly face. He was chatting to the band’s manager Cam, who was taking notes as they talked. Michael had designed the band’s official website and he and Cam worked together regularly to keep it updated. Cam looked up as Stephanie approached.
“Stephanie, right? I hope to God you’ve come to make up – he’s been like a bear with a sore head all day,” he said nodding toward the band. Cam was in his mid-twenties and was beginning to make a name for himself as a talent manager. When he heard The Fury playing at a club in London, he had signed them on the spot. He was short and stocky, with a shrewd eye for business.
Stephanie followed his gaze. James was perched on the edge of an amp, tuning his guitar. She cringed as she registered the black eye that he was sporting, obviously the result of the previous night’s altercation. His lip had been cut and was swollen. In his tight black jeans and a loose open-necked white shirt, he looked every bit the brooding rock star.
Stephanie felt her heart contract slightly – poor James, that looked sore and it was all her fault. She shouldn’t have paraded Sam in front of him like that. But it wasn’t like they were going out or anything.
As if he felt them looking at him, he suddenly looked up. Anger flashed in his eyes. When the song ended, he carefully set his guitar aside and sauntered over to where they were standing.
“What do you want?” he asked her coldly. “It’s not your shift, so I assume you must be looking for me.”
“James, sorry to break it to you – but the world doesn’t revolve around you,” she said scowling back at him. Wow he can be so arrogant. The fact I am here to see him, notwithstanding, she thought, not completely missing the irony in her response.
James rolled his eyes and said, “yeah, yeah whatever.”
Stephanie was suddenly aware that the chatter in the café had subsided to a low buzz. “But since you are here, my arrogant little friend – I do have a question for you. Outside?” she suggested quietly.
She gave Michael a little smile before walking to the door and opening it, suddenly keen to get away from the curious stares. James hesitated and then followed her, both of them conscious of everyone watching.
The door banged shut behind them as they stepped out into the dark night. He stood defensively, hands shoved in his jeans pockets, his face a mask.
She studied him for a moment. The black eye and swollen lip made him look somehow vulnerable, which gave her a strange feeling in the pit of stomach. Damn it, she thought annoyed.
“What did you mean last night?” she asked quietly. “It sounded like there is a lot more to this than simply my grandmother blaming your family for Sophie’s death and your family being pissed off about the fraternisation claims.”
Looking him directly in the eye, she tried to keep her breathing even, so as not to give away the turmoil that her emotions were in. James has so many girls fawning over him already – it will make a nice change for him to have one who appears uninterested.
He eyed her carefully, a taunting smile playing around his lips. “What? The Wakefield and Cooper women aren’t enough to drive a family to war?” he said.
She sighed and shook her head. This wasn’t going to give her any answers. Frustrated, she turned towards her car, pulling the keys from her jeans pocket.
James grabbed her arm, pulling her back around to face him.
“Wait,” he said.
She hesitated.
“Just leave it alone, Steph,” he whispered. Their eyes locked.
“What? You said, and I quote ‘you can investigate the bitter and twisted ramblings of an old woman if you wish’,” she said lowering her voice, mimicking his accent, and shaking her arm out of his grasp.
“Yeah, very funny,” he said. But he wasn’t laughing. She could feel the tension building between them, like a dam that was ready to burst.
“Are you telling me that there actually is something and now you don’t want me to look into it?” she continued.
A range of emotions crossed his face and he pulled his hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration.
“Let me spell this out for you. Leave my family alone. It’s best if you just walk away from this,” he said slowly, forcefully. He leaned down, his face close to hers and tilted her chin with his thumb, so that she was looking directly at him. “Do you understand?” he demanded, holding her gaze.
Stephanie gasped subconsciously at his touch and the force of his words. “Does that include us?” she said, her voice was barely a whisper. She lowered her eyes self-consciously, waiting for the sting of rejection.
“Oh – I think you made that perfectly clear last night,” he said. The softness of a moment ago had gone from his voice, which had turned cold again. He straightened up and took a step back from her, his eyes hard.
Stephanie bit her lip. Last night he had said that he was sorry they had argued, but now? Now he was like a different person. One she didn’t know. She could feel her own frustration and anger building like a tidal wave – there was no way she could bring herself to back down when he was being so cold and nasty. She would only make a fool of herself.
“As did you last week,” she retorted, hands on hips.
“Then we both know where we stand,” James said, his eyes flashing angrily. “Go now – I’m sure lover boy must be waiting for you to call.”
He looked at her again – the hurt in his eyes raw for a fleeting moment before they became hard and distant again. She hesitated, “James,” she began.
“See ya ’round, Steph,” he said, backing away from her towards the café.
Stephanie turned away from him. She had to get to her car before the tears came.
James pushed the door of the café open and strode back past Michael towards the little stage.
“Don’t be too hard on her, dude,” Michael said softly as he passed.
“What? She left with that bastard last night,” James said, stopping and turning on him.
“Yeah, but you didn’t hear the row they had afterwards outside,” Michael said, smiling broadly. “I followed her out of the pub to make sure she was OK and overheard her shouting at Sam. She told him where to go in no uncertain terms.”
“Really?” James said, surprised.
“Oh yeah – he would most definitely have been on the sofa,” Michael laughed. “Besides – it certainly looked like Victoria was going to kiss you all better,” he said, looking knowingly at James. “And I know she made sure that Steph thought that.”
James walked over to the band, returning Liam’s hi-five, and looked out the window as he threw his guitar strap across his body.
“At least you came back in one piece,” Andy said, trying to lighten the atmosphere.
James glanced out of the window. In the light pooling from the street lamps he watched as Stephanie’s Fiat accelerated out of the car park, gravel flying in her wake.