Page 28 of Never Tell Secrets

My day dragged by and when evening came, I reopened the chest with a heavy heart. Turning to where I’d left off and starting on the next entry. I learned about his teachers, his dorm mates. I met sixteen year old Riley, a light in Alfie’s dark world and recognised a rare mirror between his life and mine. How many times had Keira been the light in my darkness?

Years went by in his past and I found Alfie at eighteen, throwing a midnight party at his school's lakeside chateau, because yeah, his school had a lakeside chateau. My school had a dining hall that doubled as the place we did P.E when it was raining out.

I’ve learned something tonight. A girl will swallow your dick if you don’t ask her nicely.

I winced away from that, hating that young Alfie Tell’s warped mind had come to that conclusion.

I’ve learned something else too. Cocaine eases the pain and control is good for the soul. Martha has been pulling on me all night. I like girls pulling on me but I don’t like desperation. It turns out though, that I like seeing desperate girls on their knees, with my dick in their mouth. I like having my hand in her hair, moving her how I wanted. I like knowing the touching would stop whenever I wanted. I like power. I like feeling like a King.

Maybe I am like my brother after all. Except, I didn’t want to hurt Martha. Because here’s the other thing I learned, when I pushed her against the wall and got her off, she looked at me like I meant something. I became important.

I’ve gotten girls off before, I’m not a virgin, but this was new. Tonight I learned that when you give someone pleasure,in that moment, you’re all they see, you’re all they want, you’re all that matters.

I’m throwing another party next week. I can’t wait to be looked at like that again. I could get used to this.

Was this it? Was this the beginning of the Alfie Tell I knew? The one who had become so distressed that night in the jacuzzi when he failed to give me an orgasm? I imagined a teenage Alfie, being so starved for affection that this was how he got it. I couldn’t help but imagine where he was now, some cold office in London, buried in his father’s company, terrified at what I might be reading about him.

I pushed that thought away. Thinking like that was only going to make me weak and with Alfie Tell, I had to have a spine of steel, because the lonely teenager wasn’t who I was dealing with. I was dealing with the manipulative narcissist he’d turned into.

Underneath my sadness, I was jealous too. Stupidly, I was jealous of that girl from twenty years ago being allowed an experience with Alfie he had never allowed me. Why? Why other women and not me? Deep down, I understood why. He didn’t feel worthy of worship from someone who actually cared about him.

Gritting my teeth I read on and on into the night. Finding more girls, more sadness and confusion. More Alfie too. Long passages about Greek mythology, about science, philosophy and the history of musicians he liked. Vivaldi amongst them of course.

The only time Mother ever showed an interest in me was when I’d played Vivaldi at my recital when I was twelve. He isn’t themost admired composer in the world, but he reminds me of my Mother clapping for me in an audience, so he’s my favourite.

Each word was another ice hot needle in my skin. He needed me and I couldn’t be there.

I read page after page, excavating more and more of the person underneath the steely exterior I knew. He’d been a curious and exceptionally bright teenager. That didn't surprise me. He was still that way as a grown man. Those qualities, along with his passion and loyalty were all parts of the man I’d wanted. The original man. The man he would have become if he hadn’t been warped and twisted into this broken creature. That was a man I could have been with forever.

I found myself yearning for a future with that man, a future that would never, ever be mine. For the first time, I was angry he’d given me these journals. Angry that I had to bear his pain alone. Angry that I had to meet the person he could have been, knowing he was buried so deep now I would never be able to dig him out.

I reached the end of his first journal and slammed it shut, frustrated that that man had been stolen away from me and from himself. It wasn’t fair and I wasn’t sure who I hurt for more, him or myself.

Ten

Friday night came and Maia and I settled into the scratchy seats of the Piccadilly Theatre. I’d lost count of how many times I’d sat here, pride filling my chest as I watched Keira’s creations glide across the stage.

In the two years and four months since coming to London, Keira had quickly risen up through the ranks and was now the head seamstress's right hand. Keira managed a team of apprentices and assistants, creating amazing costumes, but her real passion was design and she was making that dream a reality. She’d spent the last year badgering the head of design to give her a chance, and tonight she was finally shooting her shot. The dancers during the second act would be wearing her designs and if I knew Keira, they would be the most elaborate dresses any dancer had ever worn.

I smiled when they stepped onto the stage. I hadn’t been wrong. I couldn’t tell the difference between a good design and a bad one, but it didn’t matter. I watched my best friend's dream come to life, wishing I could be standing in the wings with her, sharing this moment.

When the show was over, Maia and I hurried backstage to find Keira. The stage crew knew us by now and ignored us as wefell into the flurry of activity. It was like stepping into another world. A world of stage hands, props, costumes, and pieces of set design. Theatre lingo was shouted over our heads, a shorthand language I’d never understand. I stood in the middle of the madness when a familiar squeal greeted my ears. Keira ran at me from across the room and I threw my arms around her.

“Lo! Did you see? My designs! My actual designs on the stage of the Piccadilly-fucking-Theatre!”

“I saw them! I’m so proud of you, Keira Larson.” I squeezed her tight. She squealed again and jumped up and down, forcing me to jump with her. She pulled back, her face flushed and bright.

“The cast are taking me out to celebrate. You have to come too and—Oh, hi Maia!” Her excited gaze darted behind me where our roommate stood. “I didn’t see you there! Would you like to come too?”

Maia looked at me, uncertainty shining in her eyes. This wasn’t really her crowd.

“I’m going but you don’t have to, I know it isn’t your thing.” I smiled, hoping she’d come too and loosen up a little. Maia's expression said that going out drinking with a bunch of extroverted theatre buffs was the last thing she wanted to do but to my surprise, she nodded.

“Yeah, I’d like to come.” She offered Keira a small smile. “Congratulations, by the way. Your designs looked great.”

“Thank you! Alright!” Keira shouted, turning to the throng of people surrounding us. “Now, who do I have to fuck for a cosmo?” She laughed at the roaring response and I shook my head. My best friend could liven up a funeral.

“Uh Miss Larson?” A tall, thin man with neat, grey hair approached her. Keira spun, beaming at him.