by JD Nixon
Heller came over to me, as Clive and another man crawled into the vehicle trying to find the projectile.
“You okay, Matilda?”
“I don’t know. I hit my head on the gearstick.” He examined the side of my head with considerate tenderness and if I hadn’t been afraid that I was about to throw up all over him, I would have enjoyed the soft touch of his fingers. He brushed a few more glass fragments out of my hair.
“You need to lie down with an icepack. You’ve got a lump developing.”
“It was a just rock flicking up from the road, wasn’t it? I felt it fly past my face.”
He didn’t answer, but I could see that he was immensely furious at that, his fists clenched tightly, his nostrils flaring.
“Fucking bastards!” bellowed Clive angrily, from inside the vehicle. “They’re going to kill one of us one day.” He climbed out and called Heller over, showing him something he held in his hand. Heller took it and held it up to get a better view of it, twisting it around. I briefly saw it before they turned their backs on me, blocking everything from my view. It didn’t look like a rock to me.
I was feeling quite sick by then and walked over to the wall, sliding down to the floor. My head was now pounding relentlessly. I lay down on the concrete floor, not caring about how dirty it was, its coldness giving my poor head some relief. I shut my eyes and held my stomach, willing it to settle down. I could hear the men talking in loud voices about who could be responsible for what had happened, and it seemed as though general consensus leaned towards it being Select Security, one of Heller’s larger and more aggressive rival security firms.
My shoulder was gently shaken and I opened one eye to see Rumbles’ kind face peering down at me with concern.
“You don’t look so good, Miss. Let’s get you upstairs to bed. Need a rest after a knock on the head like that. And an icepack.” He helped me to my feet. A wave of nausea rolled over me and I put my hand to my mouth, trying to keep the contents of my stomach in their rightful place. Every step I took made my head thump and increased my nausea.
“I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it upstairs, Rumbles,” I said on the verge of tears, feverish with nausea.
“Sure you can, Miss. You’re a tough little thing.” We took it very slowly, his arm around me not just supporting me but virtually carrying me, and I can tell you that four flights of stairs is an agonisingly long climb when you’re feeling as sick as I was. We reached my flat and I went straight to the bathroom and threw up repeatedly into the toilet, until there was nothing left in my stomach. Even then I dry-retched some more. Rumbles, who had waited discreetly outside the bathroom, assisted me into my bed and fetched me some cold water and an icepack that he gingerly placed on my temple. But the pressure of the icepack was excruciating and I started crying with the pain.
I closed my eyes briefly. When I opened them again, Heller and Daniel were standing next to my bed, watching me with apprehension.
“I don’t feel well. My head is killing me,” I told them, tears trickling from my eyes. Heller took off the icepack and gently felt around my temple. I felt my stomach heaving again at the contact. He frowned.
“You’ve taken a harder hit to the head than I realised. I’ve called the doctor. He’ll be here soon.”
I couldn’t wait that long and had to make another agonising path to the bathroom to dry-retch. I collapsed onto the floor afterwards, face leaning against the tiles, crying quietly. I’d never felt so sick in my life. Heller and Daniel helped me back to bed and we all waited anxiously for the doctor. It seemed like eternity, but was probably only ten minutes before he arrived. He shot me a not you again look and then an injection of a strong painkiller, prodded painfully around my temple and left me some more painkillers in tablet form. He had a muttered conversation with Heller and Daniel that I couldn’t hear, before departing. Heller brought a dining chair into my bedroom and sat on it.
“You don’t have to stay,” I said drowsily, the painkiller kicking in quickly. Thank the Lord for drugs. “I’ll be okay now. I feel better already.”
“Doctor’s orders, I’m afraid. You have to be monitored constantly for the next twelve hours.” He crossed over to the bed, kicked off his shoes and lay down next to me, drawing me close against him.
“Someone shot at us, didn’t they?” I murmured into his chest, not able to keep my eyes open.
He hesitated before answering. “Yes.”
“Has that happened before?”
“Yes.”
“Was it Select Security?”
“Probably.”
“Why? They might have killed us.” Tears formed again under my eyelids and I could hear the wobble in my voice. “Why would someone want to kill us?”
He didn’t answer for a few minutes, busy stroking my back. I snuggled up closer to him in response. He tightened his arms, trapping me against him.
“I’m good at making enemies, my sweet,” he finally said, softly.
“What will you do about it?” I slurred, not minding the close contact. I struggled to stay awake to hear his answer, but it was no use. I felt safe nestled in his arms. My eyes shut and I fell into an uneasy sleep. I woke up a few times during the night, thirsty and disoriented. He was always there to help me find the water, and to pull up the bedcovers for me when I fell back on my pillow. When I woke up I was very groggy. It took me a good five minutes to focus and be able to get out of bed. Daniel jumped up from the chair, ready to grab me as I staggered around, trying to get to the bathroom.
“I’m okay,” I assured him and shut the door on him. I splashed some cold water over my face. Thankfully I wasn’t nauseous anymore and my headache was only now a dull throb. The swelling on my temple had gone down, but some bruising was already developing. Forget a street brawler, I was starting to look like a professional fighter.
I spent the rest of the day recovering in my pyjamas, with a stream of visitors. Even Clive popped his head in for a second. He stood over me menacingly, viewed me with no expression at all on his flinty face and shook his head with disapproval.
“I knew you were a trouble-magnet,” he judged dismissively and then left as quickly as he had arrived. And his visit really cheered me up, as you can imagine.
When I finally felt human again, I did as I had threatened and googled Heller’s name. No surprise, but he was right. There was nothing about him on the internet except his current business activities.
Chapter 22
Heller and I had an appointment with some new clients a few days later. I concealed my recent bruising as effectively as possible and we drove to the same hotel where Lily and her husband had stayed. There we met Mr and Mrs Sharif, and their sixteen-year-old daughter, Salimah. Mr Sharif explained that he and his wife were in the city to attend to a deceased estate and wished for their daughter to be chaperoned and entertained for the next four days, commencing the next morning. I covertly assessed Salimah, hoping I didn’t have another Lily on my hands. She was a tall, thin girl, wearing glasses, quite plain, modestly but modernly dressed and shy. She didn’t look like trouble, but I’d seen all of that before.
Mrs Sharif advised that Mr Hayek had indeed recommended Heller’s to them, and that his ‘lovely little wife’ had in particular enthused over my discretion, commonsense and good company.
“And how is dear Lily?” I asked amiably. “We had such a delightful time together.”
“Oh, she’s fine! She’s the sweetest girl. And so devoted to her husband.”
Somehow I managed to hold in my gales of laughter until we reached the vehicle. Heller congratulated me on my self-control.
I went to bed early and made sure I was at the Sharif’s by nine precisely. I spent a pleasant day with Salimah, who could not have been more different to Lily if she had deliberately tried. She was bright, well-educated, serious, modest, culturally aware, but painfully shy. I gently cajoled, teased and joked until I eventually received a bashful grin from her in reward. She had
the most enchanting smile and I made sure I told her, otherwise she might never know. And after that, she blessed me with her beautiful smile more often.
By the end of the four days, she was initiating conversations with me and with much self-conscious giggling, she’d even confided the name of the cute studious boy she had a crush on back home. We visited all the main attractions and while she enjoyed the cultural elements, her favourite day was spent at the city’s sprawling hillside zoo. She marvelled over the native animals, having photo after photo taken of her with some of the more cuddly ones, and shrinking in delighted terror, clutching my arm, at some of the less cuddly, more poisonous ones.
When I delivered her safely home on the last day, she hugged me affectionately and kissed me on each cheek. Her parents expressed their gratitude for my services, pleased at how happy and relaxed their high-achieving daughter was, and promised to recommend Heller’s to any other Jordanian families travelling to the city in the future. Unexpectedly, I received a very generous personal gratuity from that assignment as well that Heller also insisted that I keep for myself.
A job well done, I thought with satisfaction. It was a Friday night and I was in the mood to celebrate. On my return home I checked with Heller if he needed me that night.
“Why?” he asked.
“I want to go out with Dixie. I haven’t been out since I started here and I want to go and have some fun.”
He frowned. “Fun doing what?”
I shrugged. “Dancing, drinking, laughing, flirting. Whatever.”
“You can do all of that here.”
“I hope you’re joking,” I scorned.
He was offended. “I can’t stop you, Matilda,” although he sounded as though he was seriously considering it. “I’ll drive you and Dixie there and pick you up.”
“You can drive us there, but I’ll make my own way home. When I feel like coming home. Okay?” He didn’t have much choice, but I felt as though I was back at my parents’ again, arguing with my father.
I rang Dixie and we made arrangements. I spent a while getting ready that evening, squeezing into my tightest jeans and a taut glittery black singlet top that emphasised two of my best assets. I pulled on some black stilettos and some dangly gold earrings. My makeup was definitely not discreet that night, and I piled on the makeup until my eyes were incredibly sultry. I straightened my hair, and it fell over my shoulders down to my shoulder blades in a glossy dark silk sheet. I sprayed myself liberally with a very expensive and feminine perfume. I was so transformed from my everyday appearance that I barely recognised myself. It really had been far too long since I had gone out to party.
I knew Heller was eating with Daniel and Niq that evening, so I closed my door and teetered on my heels over to Daniel’s place to catch a lift into the city. I knocked on the door and Daniel answered, his jaw dropping in surprise at my appearance. He gaped like a fish out of water for a moment before letting out a loud wolf-whistle.
“Tilly, you look incredible!”
I smiled at him and walked in. Heller and Niq both stopped eating, forkfuls of food halfway to their mouths, and stared at me, eyes wide.
“You look hot, Tilly! Total babe!” Niq enthused, jumping up for a closer look, his teenage hormones kicking into overdrive. Heller didn’t speak, his face unsmiling as he looked me over. I could feel that he desperately wanted to tell me to go change into something more modest or order me to stay home, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. As he said himself, I am an adult and have to make my own decisions, good or bad.
I kissed the boys goodnight and traipsed down the stairs behind Heller. At the same time, a troupe of security men was returning from a job, heading upstairs. We passed them mid-stair and received a stream of impassive “Boss” and “Miss” acknowledgements from each one as they filed past us. And although none said another word, each man eyed me up and down behind Heller’s back with a lingering glance of admiration as he passed and I knew I’d be a hot topic for gossip in the security section once again.
We drove in silence.
“Thanks for dropping me in the city, Heller. I really appreciate it,” I said sweetly.
He remained grim. “I wish you would let me pick you up. I wouldn’t worry so much then.”
I smiled easily. “No need to worry. I’ll be fine. I’ve done this before, you know.” He didn’t smile in response.
“Have you got enough money to get home?”
“Plenty.”
“Not too much though? I don’t want you to get mugged.”
I was patient. “Not too much. Enough for the cover charge, some drinks and the taxi ride home.”
“Got your phone?”
“Yes. But I won’t be checking it, so don’t bother ringing me.” His mouth set in an even grimmer line.
“What time will you be home?”
“I honestly don’t know. Probably not before two or three.”
“What if you meet someone? If you go home with him? Will you let me know that, at least, so I know where you are?”
“I will,” I snapped. Geez, it was even worse than the third-degree I used to get from Dad every time I went out.
We pulled up outside Dixie’s unit block and she was waiting on the curb for us. She looked gorgeous and had kept the gamine black hairdo that the stylist had given her. Her heavy makeup emphasised her black eyes. She was wearing a green micro-mini, a matching lighter green singlet top with a black bolero and knee-high black boots.
“Hey babe!” I greeted breezily. “Ready for some fun?”
“Shit yeah! Bring it on baby, bring it on! I’m feeling real lucky tonight. Watch out every man in the city – Dixie’s on the loose and looking for action!”
I giggled, but Heller grew even more censorious. He silently deposited us in front of The Emporium, a newish nightclub that I hadn’t yet visited. As I was stepping out, he grasped my hand tightly. “Please be careful, Matilda.”
I squeezed his hand gently, finding something touching in the genuine concern on his face. “I will, I promise.” He watched while Dixie and I were swallowed up by the crowd surging towards the entrance.
Dixie and I had a great time together, danced with some cute guys, drank a lot of vodka and laughed until our stomachs hurt. I was propositioned a few times, but turned them all down without any regrets.
At the bar, both of us waiting to order a drink, I met Will, a charming and attractive high school science teacher. He was out for the night with his sister who was visiting from her high-pressure finance job in New York. We ended up having a lovely chat in a quiet corner that morphed into a very promising snogging session. He reluctantly had to leave when his sister hunted him down and demanded that he take her home insisting that she had business calls to make, but gave me his phone number and begged me to call him soon.
Dixie had hooked up with a mechanic named Mike and was busy devouring his face, her hand indecently high on his thigh, his hand up her top. I knew where they’d end up tonight. I looked around and decided that without Will there anymore and with Dixie occupied, I’d had enough of drinking and dancing for the night. I was pretty drunk and I figured that it was probably time for me to head home anyway.
I offered Dixie a lift home in my taxi, but she wanted to stay on longer with Mike. I hugged her and waved goodbye to Mike and joined the very long taxi queue. By the time it was my turn at the front of the queue, the line was stretching around the block and getting rowdy with impatience. Some pushing and bursts of aggression occurred sporadically throughout the queue and I was willing a taxi to turn up immediately so I could be on my way home sooner. Suddenly I was jostled forcefully by some drunken jerk trying to push in at the front of the queue.
“Piss off!” I said angrily, pushing him back out of the queue. “Get to the back!”
“Fuck off, you dyke!” he slurred, squaring up to me belligerently. “I need to go home now. I gotta go to work tomorrow.”
“So does everyone, moron! Go to the end of the queue
like a good boy.”
He pushed me hard on my chest. I wasn’t particularly stable on my feet in my high heels to start with and consequently went flying onto my butt in a very inelegant manner, twisting my left ankle. Other people in the queue stepped in then, helping me to my feet and taking off my shoes for me. A bouncer sauntered over and strong-armed the jerk to the end of the queue with much jeering from the other patient queue-waiters. He gave everyone the finger as he loped away.
Finally a taxi turned up and the kind people nearby helped me in. I offered a lift to anyone who was going in my direction, but nobody lived in that suburb except me, which didn’t surprise me.
I gave my address to the driver, the full block away from the Warehouse that Heller insisted on and leaned back on the seat, hoping that the throbbing in my ankle would go away. The taxi pulled up and I paid and stepped out. It felt like a long block at that time of the morning as I trudged along, tired, inebriated and limping. At last I reached the Warehouse and hobbled up the stairs. I couldn’t wait to flop into bed and maybe dream about Will and not Heller for once.
I managed to climb the four flights, although it was a wonder I didn’t wake up the entire household with my drunken staggering. I opened my door and lurched inside. In the moonlight, I thought I could see a shape on my lounge and scrunched my eyes shut before opening them again. Nope, it was still there. I walked over as cautiously as a drunkard is capable, and was surprised to see Heller sprawled on my lounge, asleep. I tried to focus on my watch. It was almost three-thirty in the morning.
I gazed down at him. His hair was tousled and his beautiful face was relaxed. He was slumped in the corner of the lounge, one arm flung out the side, the other across his chest. He had a vulnerable look while asleep that was very appealing. I leaned down and shook his shoulder gently. He woke up suddenly, fully alert with his eyes wide open. He sat up and lashed out, grabbing my arm by the wrist, twisting it and violently pulling me down next to him, ready for action. I cried out in pain and he took in his surroundings and my panicked face and inhaled deeply, releasing his grip.