by Lesley Jones
“Ah George, you’re a star, I’m not even gonna argue, thank you.” She really is pale.
“Go! Open up at ten tomorrow, don’t rush in, we’re never busy first thing anyway, I’ll leave a note in the window now, just to let the customers know.” Ashley comes from out the back with her latest Louis Vuitton bag on her arm.
“Ash, you’re spending more than you bloody earn on bags and shoes lately.”
“Nahh.” She smiles. “This is a fake, got it down the Roman the other week, good though ain’t it?”
“Ashley Morrison, if my Mother sees that you will be out on your arse, do not bring fake shit into our shop, if trading standards ever came in they would go through our entire stock and our reputation would be ruined.”
I don’t mean to pull rank but fuck, my mother would absolutely flip. “Shit George, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think of that.”
I shake my head at her. “Go home Ash, curl up with your book and get a lay in, in the morning and do not bring that bag back here again.”
She kisses my cheek and leaves. “Lorna, get cashed up and you can go too.”
I run up stairs to have a look at the work on my flat, everything is done except for the tiling in the kitchen and the painting. I’m just heading down the stairs when Lorna appears at the bottom.
“I called Dave to come get me early and he’s here but a customer’s just come in, dya want me to wait?”
“Na, you go, I’ll deal with them.” I make my way down the stairs as I speak.
“Okay, thanks George, don’t forget to leave the note about opening late in the window, thanks for letting me leave early, I’ll see you later.”
“Night,” I call after her. I’m so lucky with the team I have at Brentwood, we’ve had nothing but trouble with the team that run the Romford shop, but my Brentwood girls are great. We have no problems with bitching or sickness and the girls are always happy to work late or come in early if they’re needed. I head over to the handbags with a smile on my face, I can just see the top of someone’s hair as they bend down and look at something, at least it’s bags and not shoes, then I would be here all bloody night.
“Can I … What the fuck do you want?”
“Charming Kitten, is that how you approach all your customers?”
“Get out of my shop!” He completely ignores me.
“I want to buy a bag for my sister, it’s her twenty-first on Saturday, what’s the latest thing, Louis, Gucci, what are the girls into at the moment?”
What do I do, make him leave or make the sale? I could be kicking out a potential five hundred pound profit. Shit, fuck, bollocks, arseholes!
“The Louis, the one you were just looking at, it’s new in this week.”
“Then I’ll take that one, I’d also like a pair of sunglasses and a scarf, whichever you think are appropriate for a twenty one year old.”
I tilt my head sideways. “Your sister’s very lucky.” And very spoilt, I think to myself.
“She has three big brothers, I don’t know if I would call her lucky.”
“I would, I have three big brothers and I consider myself very lucky, I love them like nothing else.” Except Sean. Why did I tell him about my brother’s? Fuckeration, he needs to buy this bag and go! He looks over my face for a few seconds.
“Do you realise, how much your eyes just lit up when you spoke about your brothers?” I blush instantly. Ohhh, for God’s sake, get a grip Georgia; I shake my head and look down at the carpeted floor of the shop but rear back as I feel his knuckle brush across my cheek.
“What happened to you kitten? Why don’t you come over to the wine bar and let me buy you a drink, just a drink, nothing else, unless you want more?” I want to lean into his hand that is now cupping the side of my face, his thumb is gently brushing over my lips but I don’t, I can’t, I won’t.
“What colour scarf were you thinking of?” He smiles gently at me and sighs, puts his hands into the pockets of his light blue denim jeans and rocks back on his heels.
“You choose the colour kitten, I’m happy with whatever you choose, you must be a similar age to my sister so she will like whatever you do.” Closer in age than you could ever imagine I think to myself.
I instantly turn into my mother and become the perfect sales consult, helping him select a pair of Gucci sunglasses, a Chanel scarf and a Louis wallet to match the bag, He stands and watches me while I wrap his purchases in tissue with his hands dug deep in the pockets of his jeans. He’s wearing a white t-shirt and a tan sued bomber jacket and he smells absolutely divine, I think it’s Givenchy, my brother Bailey wears it, and there’s a hint of something softer, florally almost, like soap powder or fabric softener, who does his washing for him I wonder? “So, will you come over and have a drink with me? It’s just a drink Georgia, nothing else, we’ve drunk at the same bar lots of times, this time we’ll just be together.”
“Why do you want me to have a drink with you? Why do you always buy me champagne, do you do that for all your female customers?”
“Of course I don’t, I’d be fucking bankrupt if I bought every bird that walked through the door a bottle of Moet.”
“So why me?”
“Because I want to, you always look so sad and that first time, when I gave the bottle to your friend, the loud one, Ashley, who works here, when you were drinking it, you smiled at me, then you laughed and spilt your drink on your chin and for a split second, you looked happy and I just wanted to see that spark in your eye again.”
I don’t want him to know it was him that I was thinking about that night, that I smiled because I was thinking about how good looking I thought he was, and Jimmie read my mind and stated my exact thoughts out loud, I don’t want to hear this, I don’t want him to be nice, I don’t want him to care, I want him to be a complete arsehole but he’s not, not at all.
“Why do you care whether I’m happy or sad, what difference does it make to you?”
“Because I own the bar and I like my patrons to be happy, now are you gonna come for a fucking drink with me or not?” He sounds harsh but the look on his face is anything but, he raises his eyebrows and leans away from the till point where I’m wrapping his purchases.
“Come on, you know you wanna.” I do, I really do, dare I?
“One drink Georgia, one drink and lots of talk.” I raise my eyebrows at him.
“Or no talking, one drink and no talking, if that’s what you’d prefer.” He’s so nice and so fucking sexy; I swore I wouldn’t get involved with someone that stirred those old but familiar sensations inside me. I had enjoyed a few snogs lately with completely random blokes, I’d even let one of them touch my tits as we kissed waiting for my taxi to arrive, Rick or Nick I think his name was, but I felt nothing, it stirred nothing but just standing here, in a shop, with a counter between us, was doing things to my insides and I really wasn’t sure what to do about it, but for some reason, my big fat gob went into action before it engaged my brain.
“One drink, I have my car out the back, but I’ll need to drive it around, I’m not walking back here later on my own.”
He has the biggest smile on his face; it makes him look so much younger… Aaaaand off goes my mouth again. “How old are you?”
He laughs and shakes his head. “Where are your keys Georgia, I’ll pull your car around the front while you lock up.”
I fold my arms across my chest as I look him up and down, knowing full well I’m not going to get an answer. Shaking my head, I bend down under the counter and get my keys out of my bag and throw them to him, wait till he sees what he’ll be driving, I nod towards the back of the shop. “Through there, turn left onto the back ally, it’s one way.”
I follow him to the back doors. Hilda, my burnt orange and black Triumph Herald is parked right outside, I watch him as he swings the keys around his fingers, stops dead in his tracks and shakes his head. This is obviously a habit of his, I expect him to turn around and say something to me, but he keeps walking towa
rds my car. I lock the back door behind him, set the alarms and head out the front of the shop, where he’s already waiting at the curb, looking like a giant as he leans against my little car with his long legs crossed in front of him, his hands once again in his pockets. As I walk toward him, it suddenly occurs to me that I don’t even know his name, well he hasn’t offered and I’m not going to make him think I’m interested by asking. He silently opens the passenger door, lets me in, and then closes it behind me. My car now smells of a mixture of me and of him and I don’t like it, it unnerves me for some reason.
We drive in silence for the two or three minutes it takes to get to the wine bar, he parks next to a Mercedes Sports car in a spot marked reserved and is out and around at my door before I’ve even got my seatbelt off. He pulls my door open and holds out his hand to help me out, I ignore it and climb out unaided, holding my hands out for the keys as I do, I lock my car and he takes my hand in his as we walk into the bar. Once again it’s pretty busy for a Thursday night; we walk over to the bar, where one of the bar staff immediately comes over to him, he hands over his bags containing the gifts for his sister and asks the barman who he calls Steve, to go and put them in his office and to make sure it’s locked up. He then goes around the bar and proceeds to pour himself a Jack Daniels over ice and without even asking, makes me a Southern Comfort and lemonade, I want to tell him I want a vodka, just to be awkward but I manage to stay quiet.
He comes around the bar with our drinks, talking to one of the bar staff and saying hello to customers as he does, he nods to an empty spot over in the corner and I follow him. We sit ourselves on the stools that face the ledge around the wall and once I’m settled he turns my stool so that I’m facing him and pulls it closer, so close that my knees are touching his stool, in between his legs, which are open and straddling mine, he looks at me, as though he’s daring me to object, so I say nothing.
Steve appears with the keys to the office and a pile of papers. “You have a pile of messages Cam, most of them from Tamara but there are a couple that are business and one from Tory”
He takes them from him, puts the keys in his pocket and looks through his messages, shakes his head and shoves them all in his pocket. “Sorry about that.”
I shrug. “Not a problem, business is business.”
“Sure is,” he says with a smile.
He swirls his drink over the ice in his glass and says, “Well Georgia, you dragged me here, are you going to talk to me or what?”
I smile inwardly at his cheek but again say anything; I don’t want him to know I’m amused. “What would you like to know, Cam?”
He raises his eyebrows, obviously surprised that I know his name. “I’d like to know about you Georgia. Where were you born? Where did you grow up? How long have you been manager of the shop over the road?”
I correct him. “I’m not the manager of the shop over the road.”
“Oh sorry, I just thought the way you spoke to the girls, you were their boss.”
“I am.” I reply. “I own the business that owns the shop, over the road.”
He leans back on his stool, studies me for a moment and then knocks back all of his drink and puts it down a little too hard on the ledge. What’s his problem I wonder?
“I thought Frankie Layton’s Misses owned that place.” How does he know that?
“She does, I’m her business partner.” His frown disappears. What! Did he seriously think that I was married to Frank, to my Dad? “And I’m her daughter.”
His mouth actually drops open, oh fuck, this news does not please him. “You’re Frank’s daughter?”
“I am.” He sighs deeply and runs his big hands through his hair.
“Oh fuck,” he almost whispers as he once again shakes his head.
“Is that a problem?”
“Drink your drink Georgia, I have work to do.” He pulls the bits of paper out of his pocket and starts looking through them again, totally ignoring me.
Instant rage takes over; I stand from my stool and throw my drink in his face. “Fuck you!” I say, turn and walk out of the bar.
I don’t know what happens to me that night, I lost my grip on my own self-worth, I assumed. Cam didn’t want to know because of some piece of gossip he’d read in a Sunday tabloid, regarding me and Sean. There’d been a few spiteful stories about underage sex, drink and drugs, all involving me, once again. Sean and that band had interfered with my life and I was so sick of it. I went out on Saturday night and celebrated my birthday by snorting a couple of lines of coke, popping one ecstasy tablet and going back to the flat of a bloke named Tom in Lewisham and fucking his brains out, it was awful but he loved it. When the cab pulled up outside at ten on that Sunday morning, he was begging me to stay and he was begging for my number, so I gave it to him, I saw him five times over the next two weeks and on the fifth date, he told me he loved me, so I ended it. I absolutely loved the power I felt, so much so that for the next six months, this behaviour became a habit; I would be off my face Thursday till Sunday, meet a bloke, spend a couple of weeks giving them the best sex they’d ever had, doing everything I possibly could to get them to say those three little words and as soon as they did, bang, I dropped them like a sack of shit. The other thing I liked to do was to take my dates to Kings, the wine bar Cam owned, I always waited until I knew for sure that I had them by the balls, that way they would always be all over me and I always made sure that I sat or stood right in full view of Cam.
I had only met this bloke Lee, the Saturday before but he was already making me feel sick with the way he kept telling me how beautiful I was. I must’ve been getting better at this gig; he was the third bloke I’d bought into Kings in three weeks.
Cam was always polite to me, always said hello and always asked how I was, my response was always the same. “Fuck you!”
But it didn’t put him off; week after week he would watch me walk in with my latest conquest with a certain kind of sadness in his eyes. I stood at the bar with Lee waiting to be served, when I noticed Cam come out of his office, he saw me straight away and walked toward me. “Georgia, how are ya?”
I turned away but Lee had heard him, he looked from me to Cam and said, “Fuck off mate, she’s with me.”
Cam totally ignored him. “Georgia, how are ya?” he repeated.
Lee had just been served and had our drinks in his hands, he put them down on the bar, turned to Cam and said, “Look mate, do yourself a favour, this one’s taken, she’s with me so fuck off.”
I know it was a horrible thing to do but at this stage of my life I was a horrible person so I looked at Lee, then turned to Cam and wrapped my arms around his neck and said, “I’m good Cam, how are you babe?”
Lee pulled me back by my shoulder so hard, that I spun around and was facing the bar, I didn’t really see what happened next, I assume one of them threw a punch. I heard glass breaking and people seemed to move in all directions, I turned back to see two of the bouncers grab Lee by his arms and start walking him toward the door.
“Georgia!” he called out to me.
“Fuck off Lee, we’re done.” I called back. Next thing I knew, Cam had a hold of my hand and was pulling me toward his office. I tried to dig my heels in and stiffen my legs but he was too strong, so I tried to yank my hand from his grip.
“Get off me!” I screamed but he just gripped tighter and pulled me harder, almost throwing me inside his office.
He slammed the door and locked it behind us. “What the fuck are doing? You fucking idiot.”
He actually scares me when I look at him, he looks so fucking angry; he stalks over to the his desk and pours almost half a tumbler of JD from a bottle, he stands still for a few seconds, breathing heavily, his eyes narrowed and fixed on me, he puts the glass to his lips and drinks the whole lot. Shit I think, that’s got to burn. “What I’m doing Georgia, is trying to keep both you and me the fuck out of trouble.”
“Well thanks and all that but I can look after myself.
” He lets out a little laugh and does his usual head shake.
“Why, tell me why kitten, every other week, you waltz in here with a different little play thing in tow, licking your boots and panting all around you. Why, why do you do it? Are you trying to piss me off, or are you trying to prove something to yourself?”
“Like I told you before, what I do has fuck all to do with you and why would me coming in here with a bloke piss you off anyway? You don’t give a shit, you made that clear the night you dragged me over here for a drink with you, then totally ignored me when you found out who I was so don’t fucking start with me about trying to piss you off.”
I keep my back to the door of the office but reach behind me and turn the handle, it’s locked and he must have the key, I lose my temper completely, grab the handle with both hands, turn it, pull it and kick the door.
“Open the fucking door!” I scream. I feel his hand on my shoulder; he pulls me around and kisses me hard on the mouth. I grab his hair and pull it as hard as I can, despite the force of his kiss. His lips are soft and warm, he tastes of whiskey or bourbon or whatever the shit is that he drinks and he smells delicious; I’ve had months of mindless, faceless sex and not one single orgasm but right now, I feel like I could come at any minute, just from his kiss. I bite down gently on his bottom lip and he moans into my mouth and my legs almost give way; his big hands run down either side of my body, his thumbs brush over my boobs as he drags them down from my armpits to my waist, he splays them over my hips, then over my arse cheeks as he pulls me into him and grinds.
“Fuck,” he moans into my mouth. I’ve been at a business lunch with my Mum today and am still wearing my work clothes, a Chanel skirt and jacket with a shell blouse underneath but it’s what I have on under my skirt that has got his attention now; his fingers are stroking the outside of my thigh, reaching under the hem of my skirt and I’m just waiting for it, in three, two, one.
“Fuckin hell kitten, you’re wearing stockings?”
I smile at myself, what is it with men and stockings? “I sure am Tiger, what of it?”