by L. C White
I haven’t made any effort. I’m still wearing my grey jeans and boots, with my hair in a messy bun. Mad Thursdays aren’t for dressing up to the nines. What’s the point when the beer and drunks are flying everywhere? No, everyone usually just rolls out of work, and straight into the nearest pub.
“Finally,” Cate says. “Thought for a moment there, I’d have to call Pete,” she jokes, handing me my salt rimmed glass.
“You haven’t given me the choice,” I gripe.
“Oh come on… It’s Christmas, student discount, and we’ll have fun like always.” She raises her glass. “Down in one.” She tips the margarita into her mouth, gulps it down, and sucks air through her teeth. “Your turn.” She wipes her lip.
In a sulk, I follow her lead. “God!” I gasp. “If I’m ill tomorrow, you’re going to owe me.” I force out a smile.
“At a girl.”
There’s hardly enough room to stand. The place is full. So packed, the windows are steamed up from top to bottom. I’m on my fourth margarita, and the jingles being blasted that I usually hate, are making me itch to dance. I’m actually beginning to get that let-loose feeling.
Cate springs up, and starts dragging me toward the dancefloor as the song Last Christmas pummels my ears. God. Why am I doing this?
Pete for once, I’m glad to see. Just as I’m about to step onto the black and white chock-a-block dancefloor, he grabs Cate’s waist. So I make a hasty retreat, back to the bar before I make a show of myself. I can leave now. I’ll drink up, make my way home, and do what I planned originally.
I turn and lean on the bar, when someone touches my mid-back. I look over my shoulder. Oh great. It’s Nathan. I should have known I’d end up bumping into him tonight. He knows our routine, he’s been on it several times with Cate and me. Tonight he’s with his rowdy work buddies. All with loosened ties, and turned up sleeves. I swig the last drop of margarita from my glass, and pick up my bag.
“Liz.” He takes my arm. “Don’t go because of me.”
Please don’t do that with your eyes Nathan. I’m not the one who caused this. I inhale and step to the side.
“Okay, you’ve convinced me,” he says, still with that sad puppy expression.
“Of what?”
“I’m in the wrong, and I’ve been a first-class dick,” he shouts over George Michael. “Please, have one drink with me, for Christmas.”
Say no Liz. This cannot happen. Too late, he’s ordering you wine. Wine for crying out loud.
“No Nathan,” I bark.
“Here, get it down your neck.” He hands me the glass, and idiotically, I down it in one go.
“Another?” he smirks, waving his cash at the bartender.
I shake some sense into my tipsy head. I need a break from the awful music and Nathan. I need to freshen up before I fall over. I make the usual excuse of needing to powder my nose and climb the iron staircase, fighting my way through the drunks.
I rinse my face over the sink as girls enter, tottering around in their heels, sharing cubicles, and generally talking crap. I’m not paralytic, yet, but feeling it more on my empty stomach. I dry my cheeks with a paper towel, and take a breath.
As I make my way out onto the landing, I feel my phone vibrating in my bag. I quickly take it out, and see Adrien’s name flashing. My head spins at the thought of hearing his smooth voice. I’m not in the greatest place to answer, but it’s better than downstairs I suppose. I can’t leave him hanging can I?
“Adrien,” I smile.
“Elizabeth, you got my flowers?” he asks, as I put my hand over my right ear to drown out the dreadful music.
“Yes, thank you… it was very sweet.”
The door to the side of me opens. A ginger haired guy falls out, tucking in his shirt. He’s a uni student, who clearly cannot hold his beer. He glares at me and winks, while licking his lips.
“Well.” He staggers to me. “You’re very nice… sweetheart.”
“Who is that?” Adrien asks, as I try to dodge the guy so he doesn’t touch me.
“Hold on a sec, Adrien.” I bring down my phone.
“Piss-off.” I push away the drunkard. “Come near me again and I’ll smack you in the face.” I warn, lifting the phone back to my ear.
“Elizabeth… where are you?” Adrien shouts as I keep my eye on the pervert hovering.
“I’m fine, Adrien.”
“Where are you?” he demands.
I eyeball the drunk as he slowly descends the stairs, giving me one final dirty ogle.
“I’m fine… he’s gone,” I breathe out.
“Elizabeth, you shouldn’t be out if you can’t look after yourself,” he says. “Have you been taking your tonic… are you drinking?” What a ridiculous thing to ask me. “Well?” I move across to the other wall so people can get by me.
“If… I… said… no,” I stretch my words, seductively. “What would you do, Adrien?”
“Elizabeth?” he bites.
“Look, I’m not best pleased with this conversation, Mr Knight,” I toy. “Why don’t you tell me what you will do to me on Saturday? That’s a much more pleasing dialogue to participate in.”
“Not a good time to joke with me, Elizabeth.” Oh, he’s getting a little frosty with me. “Where are you? I will come and pick you up.”
I wait for a moment. Should, or shouldn’t I tell him? Do I really want to be told what to do by the most beautiful man on the planet? If I do, it’s giving him the right to control me. My mum raised me well in that department. Mind, she hasn’t managed to take her own advice in her forty-five years on earth.
“Elizabeth!”
“Err…Ad…Adrien,” I stutter. “You…are br…breaking up.” I pull the phone away from my ear as I giggle. “See… you… on Saturday.” I hang-up in triumph.
Pat on the back for me. I have resisted the temptation. I have just figured out that I have the willpower of a beast, and I am actually chuffed with myself.
I return to my drink, and of course Nathan. He sees his friends off, as a rare vacant table full of half-full glasses becomes available. I rise up on my toes, looking for Cate. Every time this happens. I should have known. She’s up there now, all over Pete. Great.
Nathan turns, resting against the bar. “It was bound to happen,” he says. “It’s destiny when she’s out, the freak will follow.”
“Yeah, leaving me playing gooseberry, yet again.”
“I’m here.”
“Sure you are.” I now require more wine to get me through this, so I gesture the bartender. “Chardonnay please.”
“How’s it going with Mr Prick anyhow? Not heard a thing from Sara.” I glare at him. “Sorry, you know what I’m like with nicknames… it’s stuck.”
“I don’t want to talk to you right now, Nathan. I might do something regrettable.” I put my money on the bar, and pick up my glass.
“Fine,” he sighs. “Look, I’m going to go sit right over there with my friends,” he points. “You’re more than welcome to join us.” My eyes widen- like that’s going to happen.
“Before you go sit with your friends, you can give me a cigarette.” I wave my fingers, insistently. “I know you have a pack on you somewhere.”
He hesitates, then rummages in his inside jacket pocket, taking out a twenty pack. I snatch it from him, and pull out an appealing ciggy.
“Light.” I hold out my hand.
He nods, slamming a green clipper in my hand before going to join his friends, shaking his head at me, judgmentally.
***
It’s cold, ice-cold. But the thought of inhaling this deadly smoke, is all I care about right now. I hold the butt between my lips and move away from the door. I flick the clipper, and like magic the tobacco flames orange. I draw slow and inhale. Wow the hit. That’s what I miss. That instant calming buzz. I cross my arms and walk by the pulsing windows, enjoying every single drag.
I start to feel a little dizzy, due to the nicotine rush. My own fault for draining
the cigarette soggy. I toss it in the gutter. I’ve had enough, so turn to make my way back inside.
“SHIT!”
I’m grabbed suddenly, and hauled violently backward down the dark side street. My vision. Fuck. Everything’s gone fuzzy. I make a croaky attempt to yell, but it’s stopped by a hand pressed hard over my mouth.
“Remember me?” It’s the dirty pervert from upstairs, he’s right in my face. “Yeah… well sweetheart, I’m all yours.” I kick his shin hard, as he clamps my arms against a brick wall. “Bitch… you little bitch… you will pay for that!” His spit is on my face dammit.
My heart drums as adrenalin rushes around my body. I’m more than scared. But I’m sure as hell not going to let this perverted fuck near me, without causing some damage to him. I kick and kick hard at his legs. He yowls his foul breath in my face, and tosses me onto the wet floor. I crawl back using my hands and feet, grazing my palms on the cracked tarmac. He grasps my scruff, and jerks me up to his filthy face.
“I’m going to show you a real man bitch… I’m going to bang your bones so hard you’ll scream.”
He moves close to kiss me. I spit in his face, then cry out for help. He punches me hard and the force jars my neck back.
Headlights suddenly beam, shining over his shoulder to blind me. Abruptly, I find myself on the ground, and my attacker up against the wall, receiving a beating. I focus my hazy vision, holding my cheek, and wobble up to my feet. It’s Adrien in a grey suit, thumping the hell out of the guy. He punches and punches, until my attacker raises his hands to surrender. I have to stop him. The guy might deserve it, but Adrien doesn’t deserve to go to jail for this.
“Adrien.” I grab his arm.
He swings around, and just for a second looks like he wants to strike me too. I have never seen such rage.
“Please stop,” I plead as he studies me, gasping fiercely for air.
He turns back to my attacker, wrenches, and flings him out onto the street, warning him to run. And he does. Battered and bruised, he flees the scene of the crime.
“Fuck- fuck- fuck, Elizabeth!” He paces back and forth then angrily to me. “I can’t believe you’d spend your time in a shithole like this.” He throws his head back. “Asking for it?” He hums with a caustic glare.
I stand for a second, trying not to breakdown in front of him. I’m not going to let him make out this was my fault. I don’t deserve to be spoken to like this. I turn and walk away, back to the bar.
“That’s it… that is it,” I choke up.
I’ve just nearly been raped, and he’s blaming me. I thought he was different. I thought wrong, obviously.
I stagger out under the streetlight, only to have him appear before me. He holds my arms gently. I try not to look up at him, but it’s pointless. His lips are straight and now his eyes are soft and glassy. He heaves a breath with a slow blink.
“Elizabeth… please, I’m sorry. I saw his hands on you and lost it.” He cautiously places his fingers on my cheek. “He’s hurt you… no one has the right to touch you.”
I gulp with emotion and the tears begin to tumble. I could have been killed in that alley. He brushes my cheek with his thumb, staring down at me with care.
“Liz,” Nathan’s voice calls.
Great, now there’s audience witnessing me weeping.
“Liz.” He charges over, and who’d have thought it, comes to the wrong conclusion. “You did this!”
He points to my face then spitefully shoves Adrien. But my hero stands firm, and takes it without flinching.
“You laid your hands on her didn’t you? I’ll kill you!”
“Nathan,” I scream so loud he stops, and looks at me with piteous eyes. “He saved me. I’d be in that alleyway torn up if it wasn’t for Adrien… so back-off.”
“Liz come on, I’m taking you home.” Nathan gestures me as though I’d just drop Adrien to follow him.
I turn to Adrien. He’s already holding the passenger door open on his silver F type Jag. I lower my head. I need to be with Adrien. I disregard Nathan standing there waiting for me, and climb inside the warm safe car.
I don’t get it. I’ve just been assaulted, and I have the two men in my life making me feel bad. Adrien, because my drinking haunts aren’t up to his standard. And Nathan, because I chose Adrien. Men and their damn testosterone, is something I don’t need right now.
***
I’m quiet as we approach my front door. It’s to be expected. No matter how attentive Adrien has been, helping me out of the car, and opening doors for me, I’m still a little traumatised. I just want to scrub tonight off my skin.
My hands tremble and I drop my bag out in the hall. He bends to pick it up, and pulls out my keys.
“Which one?” he asks, puckering his brow at my fuzzy pink troll key ring.
I point, and he opens the door for me.
I walk through, tearing off my jacket that still has that creep on it. I throw it on the floor and turn back to see Adrien still standing outside in the hallway.
“You just going to stand there?”
“I really shouldn’t come in. You’ve had an ordeal tonight and need some space,” he replies, delicately.
Screw that. Right now I want normal. To think about something other than that twisted shit who nearly had me.
“I need you to,” I choke.
“Elizabeth,” he huffs. “I won’t come in… if I’m not invited.”
“Please,” I say quietly. “Come in.”
He steps over the threshold and closes the door. He sees the roses he sent me on show and smiles. I thought he’d be all critical, but he seems quite comfortable in my basic abode.
He strolls to the sofa. “You should go and freshen yourself up, Elizabeth.”
I leave him sitting on the couch, flicking through one of Cate’s hair magazines.
I have a quick shower, scrubbing the night away with my loofa and raspberry shower gel. While I dry, I look in the cabinet mirror to see a small scuff on my cheekbone. I exhale, pulling out my concealer stick. I dab just a little on the mark to hide the redness.
I take my cream bathrobe from the door and thread my arms through before fastening the belt. I rub my hair until its towel dry, flip it back, and blow out in frustration. Because shabby as I am, I will have to do.
He’s still waiting patiently on the couch. His high-class shiny shoes crossed. He peers over the back cushion as I bashfully make my way to him. God, I’m more uneasy in my own surroundings, than I was in the penthouse.
“Would you like a drink,” I ask.
He watches, one eye greater than the other, fascinated by my tatty bathrobe. His gaze then warms considerately, as I move before the sofa.
“Do you have whiskey?”
“One sec.”
I stoop over next to the television, to check what we have available in our forever dwindling liquor cupboard. From the back, I pull out a bottle of Jack Daniels and hold it up for him to inspect.
“Elizabeth, I like refined things as you are aware.” I think he’s trying not to laugh at me. “You don’t need to be nervous of me now, not after Sunday night.” He gleams as I flush a warm shade. “JD’s a good drink.”
I pour him a glass, and one for myself. But to mine I add a splash of cheap supermarket brand lemonade. I take our glasses, and sit beside him on the lime green scatter cushions. His hand reaches out to take the glass. He smells so good. A different scent. Sweet but manly.
He shuffles to the edge, and removes his blue silk lined grey jacket, then relaxes back. Wow. He’s so good at this being calm business.
“You’re back early… from the summit,” I say, sipping my weak whisky.
“Yes, it was extremely challenging catering to the whims of my boss.” He rubs his hand on his thigh. Stop looking at his thigh Liz. “We have some bad apples to get rid of if things are going to work in this industry.”
“So, you have an employer?” I ask in shock, because I thought he was his own boss.
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He chuckles. “I have many doors I work behind.”
“You mean you have your fingers in many pies?”
“Hmm, thanks for the correction.” He drinks what whisky is left in his glass, then gives me an extreme gaze. “Why would you put yourself in danger, Elizabeth… explain?”
“It’s not a big deal. I just strayed too far from the crowd.”
“With a cigarette, or what is it you Brits call it… a fag.” He nods with conviction.
Please do not start to lecture me on the health risks of smoking. You yourself Mr Knight, are proving to be detrimental to my health.
“And you were with Nathan?” he enquires in a merciless tone.
“No, I was with Cate, and Nathan just happen to be there.” Great, this conversation is going downhill fast. “How did you know where to find me?”
“A process of elimination,” he hums. “Seems that joint is popular… why is beyond me.”
I sip my whisky as he slides his glass onto the coffee table. It’s too quiet, and I’m in two minds whether or not to put some music on.
“Elizabeth.”
“Yes,” I breathe out sharply.
He shuffles to me with his leg over his knee, revealing the boss brand on the sole. The soft fabric of his trousers skim against the back of my hand. He’s done it again, got my heartbeat soaring high. I’m trying not to be preoccupied by this need to have him right now. But my, it is so difficult keeping slutty Liz on lockdown.
“No man should ever touch you that way, and you shouldn’t allow it to happen,” he says sternly. “When I touch you what do you feel?”
Oh don’t. Please don’t make me say it. You make me hot. I need you. I fantasise about you every minute of the day. I look down at my empty glass, burning up.
“See, the look on your face.” He strokes my cheekbone. “The flush of pink across your cheeks tells me that’s how you like to be touched. That dirty bastard tonight… there’s too many of them out there, waiting for a girl like you,” he angers. “I will never make you feel that way… unless that’s what you want.”
Maybe I do. Rip off my clothes, hold me, and touch me in an aggressive manner.