Chapter 2
Cutter sat with his feet up on his coffee table, blankly staring at the peeling wallpaper on the adjacent wall and moodily fingering the edge of a cushion. He could really do without the forthcoming birthday celebration that was being physically forced upon him. He wasn't exactly the partying type of man in general, let alone on a day that he had witness what was potentially the most disturbing thing he was ever likely to see. He squeezed his eyes shut as that image forcibly popped up in his head again, trying to suppress the lump that was rising in his throat. Valarie had been such a beautiful, vibrant young woman. She shouldn't have died. He should have been able to stop it. He should have been able to explain it all to her better. Maybe then she wouldn't have been killed. He had never been the most eloquent speaker in the world of course, but if he could have managed to convey to her that they weren't going to hurt the Sabre-Tooth Cat, then maybe she wouldn't have fought against them. He should have been able to prevent this. It was his job –
A loud knocking at his front door wrenched his thoughts away from Valarie, and brought him back to earth with a bump.
Great, he thought to himself glumly as he reluctantly got to his feet. Just what I bloody need – having to play the host. I should just pretend not to be in . . .
Slowly, he opened the door to be greeted with Abby and Connor's beaming faces. Stephen was hovering behind them, his forced smile not quite masking the awkwardness between them left over from crossed words earlier that day –
"How many more Valarie's are there going to be before we just start telling people what's going on?" Stephen yelled, his face livid as he stared at Valarie's shredded body . . .
"Happy birthday Cutter," Abby smiled brightly, before she sauntered past him brazenly, not waiting for an invite.
"It's not my birthday 'til next week," Cutter pointed out gruffly as he stepped aside to let Connor and Stephen in also.
"Well, for the purposes of the celebrations, it is today," Connor interjected as strolled towards the lounge. "We can't very well paint the town red on a weekday can we?"
"There will be no painting of any town," Cutter said, gesturing down at the couch to indicate they should take a seat. "I told you, I don't want any fuss. Just a quiet drink and an early night."
"Ooh, calm down you party animal," Stephen said sarcastically as he handed Cutter a bottle of whiskey.
"I'll get the glasses shall I?" Abby asked, but she walked off towards the kitchen before Cutter could form an answer.
God, he thought to himself as he accepted another bottle of spirit off Connor with a forced smile, I hate these things.
"Look, you guys really didn't have to do this," he mumbled awkwardly, hoping that he was politely conveying that he'd rather be alone. "I'd be perfectly fine just letting this birthday pass."
"No way!" Connor exclaimed as he made his way over to the cabinet in the corner. "As if we'd let you not celebrate your birthday!" he added as he began mooching through Cutter's sparse CD collection.
"I'm not really the birthday type of guy," Cutter insisted, feeling himself longing for his bed more and more.
"Well there's a surprise," Abby chimed in as she strode back in, five glasses clutched awkwardly in her hands. "So who wants what to drink?"
"Hang on," Cutter interrupted, frowning at her. "Five glasses? There are only four of us."
"No, there are us five of us, including Jenny," she replied absently as she set the glasses down on the table.
"What?" Cutter spluttered, feeling an unreasonable bubble of panic form in his stomach. "Why – why's she coming?"
Abby straightened up, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. "Because I invited her of course."
"Why would you do that?" he gaped, earning him confused looks from everyone.
"Um . . . because she's a member of the team isn't she?" Abby answered, looking perplexed at his reaction. "I didn't think it'd be fair to just leave her out - "
"But – but I don't want her here!" Cutter stammered.
"Why not?" Abby asked, frowning at him.
Cutter sighed to himself internally, unable to vocalise the real reasons why having Jenny Lewis in his house would be uncomfortable for him on a myriad of levels. How could he explain that he didn't want her heavily made-up face to be the one he would have in his memory when he looked around his house? How could he explain that he wanted Claudia's face to be the one resonant in his mind instead? Spending any amount of time with that horrible woman was always painful, but having her here? In his house? No, he didn't want that. He didn't want her to be here, celebrating his birthday with him when he'd had never got to share such a special day with Claudia. It was too personal . . . too intimate. He couldn't avoid her in the ARC, but this was his own private space, and her intrusion certainly wasn't wanted.
"I just don't like her, that's all," he mumbled eventually, fixing his gaze on the floor so that his eyes wouldn't give away his real feelings.
Abby sighed and put her hand on her hip, fixing him with a withering stare. "That's just because you haven't made an effort with her. I'm sure she's very nice under all that PR bravado. We just need to give her the chance."
"I don't want to give her a chance!" he snapped, inwardly wincing at how petulant he sounded.
"Why?" Connor asked, looking rather shocked by Cutter's reaction.
"Because . . ." he trailed off, glancing around at Stephen and finding the fact that he was giving him a rather knowing smile rather unsettling. "Because she's a complete - "
The descriptive profanity he was about to verbalise caught in his throat as the doorbell rang, making his heart sink.
"That'll be her," Abby stated, folding her arms tightly. "And you better be nice to her tonight - "
"Yeah yeah," Cutter grumbled as he unwillingly slouched off to answer it, inwardly praying that it was a Jehovah's Witness, whom he would gladly welcome in with open arms instead Jenny Lewis.
He wrenched the door open with unnecessary aggression to find himself face to face with Jenny, and immediately, his stomach contorted in a way he'd long since associated with her. It wasn't the same pleasant feeling he had enjoyed when he had been with Claudia; more a painful reminder of what he had so nearly had with this woman before she had become what was standing in front of him.
"Hi," Jenny said, breaking the silence first.
He nodded stiffly as a greeting, taking a second to look at her. She was wearing the same thing she had worn for work that day, which struck him as rather odd. It wasn't like he knew her at all, but she seemed like the kind of woman that would change out of work attire for a social function. The only thing different about her appearance was that her hair was down from the conventional bun she usually chose for work, and instead flowed loose and wavy around her face, making her look too much like Claudia for his comfort threshold. She cleared her throat and tucked her hair behind her ear, obviously feeling uncomfortable that he hadn't said a word yet.
"Happy birthday," she said awkwardly, extending her hand to give him an expensive-looking bottle of red wine.
"Thanks," he mumbled, taking it off her and glancing down at the label, more to give himself an excuse not to look at her than actually caring about the 'creamy, fruity taste' he was in store for.
Silence hovered between them for a few painful seconds. Eventually, she cleared her throat again. "So are you going to invite me in?" she asked tentatively.
"Oh," he said stupidly, before stepping aside. "Of course. Sorry. I just wasn't expecting you."
"You think I'd miss you turning a year older?" she smiled as she brushed passed him.
He immediately took in the exotic whiff of her expensive perfume, and to his complete frustration, his heart did a back-flip. If he was honest with himself, this had been the real reason why he hadn't wanted her to come tonight. Because, in some dark recess of his brain that he would never allow himself to explore further, he knew that he wanted her. And it absolutely disgusted him. She wasn't Claudia. He shouldn't feel anything for her. But he did. Despite all the differences between the two women, looks-wise she was identical to Claudia, making it impossible for him to suppress his desire for her. But it was just a physical thing, he reasoned with himself as he gestured for her to join the others in the lounge. He was sure it'd burn itself out given time.
As he followed her towards the living room in silence, he felt his eyes being drawn down involuntarily to her legs, despite his best efforts to keep them averted from her. He couldn't help himself noticing how long and tanned they were, not to mention how the slit in her skirt exposed the creamy skin of her thigh as she walked. He sighed to himself and pressed his fingers into his eyes to stop himself looking at her.
It was going to be a long night.
