by Heidi Lowe
Back in Service
(Service Girl Chronicles, 2)
by Heidi Lowe
Published by Heidi Lowe Books, 2018.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
BACK IN SERVICE
First edition. June 9, 2018
Copyright © 2018 Heidi Lowe
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CONTENTS
Title
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
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Blurb
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ONE
With the biggest grin on my face, I stepped out of O'Hare Airport and took a huge breath, sniffed in the American air. It felt great to be home. Nine months away had seemed like forever.
I wheeled my two cases to the curb and waited for my ride, wondering how long it would take my dad to get here. I hadn’t been away long enough to forget how chaotic the highway was at this time in the afternoon.
I stuck my earbuds in, clicked play on a Received Pronunciation recording I’d downloaded for school, then proceeded to practice my accent, ignoring the funny looks I received from the waiting travelers. Being the only American in my year at RADA, I was at a disadvantage when it came to speaking the Queen’s English, so the extra practice was a must. I couldn’t wait to use my RP voice on the Chicago residents.
About five minutes into my wait, I spotted a beat-up old Honda huffing, puffing and sputtering its way toward the pickup bay. Dirty black smoke poured out of the exhaust, polluting the air. If this wasn’t an environmental hazard worse than a thousand landfills, I didn’t know what was. My heart went out to the person who had the misfortune of being picked up in that.
Then it stopped in front of me, and my dad stepped out! My heart sank to the ground.
“Well look at you, Hollywood!” he shouted jovially, drawing everyone’s attention to us and the monstrosity.
My happiness at seeing him again was severely tempered by my embarrassment. He threw his arms around me, nearly choking the life out of me, and wouldn’t let go until I wriggled free.
“You look great, love,” he said, stepping back so he could give me the once-over. “Already looking the part with those.”
He was referring to my sunglasses, which I was now thankful to be wearing.
“You’ve lost weight,” I said to him. He took my cases, popped the trunk (which I didn’t think would open, but luckily did), and loaded them in.
“So I’ve heard.”
The handle of the passenger’s seat door almost didn’t open, and I had to tug with all my might to get in. Inside, the air smelled of mold and feet. The seat was uncomfortable, the headrest loose. To my surprise, though, the seat belt actually worked.
And if all of that wasn’t bad enough, the engine cut out as soon as we set off.
“Sorry about this,” he said, starting it up again. “I know you’re probably jet-lagged and want to get home.”
It took only a few minutes of beating around the bush before I came right out and said, “So what happened to the Lexus?”
“Sold it months ago. Got a good price.”
“You loved that car.”
He shrugged easily. “Just a relic from an old life. No use holding onto something I can’t afford.”
Being thousands of miles away had made it easy to forget the misery of the life I’d left behind here, namely the bankruptcy. Although we’d spoken several times on the phone, my parents had done a great job of keeping me insulated from their troubles. I knew that Carl Mirchoff had done a stellar job in keeping my dad out of jail; but outside of that they’d made sure not to burden me with their problems. Shielded me from the harsh reality. Now that I was back, however, no such shield was available.
“What about my car? I’m sure Jo wouldn’t have minded if you took it.”
There just seemed to be something so ironic about an ex-luxury car salesman driving something that was...anything but luxury.
“It’s fine, love. Honest. She might not be much to look at, but she gets me where I need to go...most of the time.” He laughed heartily, as he always did when he tried to put a positive spin on a crappy situation.
“How’s the job working out?” I said.
“It’s going well. I mean, apart from the fact that I don't know the first thing about sporting gear. Eddie’s been really supportive and patient with me. I owe him a lot.”
Eddie was his old friend from college. He owned a chain of sporting goods stores across Illinois, and had given my dad an assistant manager position in his Chicago branch. The benefits of having friends in high places.
“But I don’t want to talk about my boring, old life. I want to hear all about you. What are your plans for the next three months?”
I laughed. “Can I get home first, before I start planning my future?”
“Are you thinking of getting your old job back at the coffee shop? What will you do for money?”
He didn’t know that I’d left under bad circumstances, nor that I knew exactly what I would do for cash. The one thing, besides acting, that I excelled at and also happened to love. He didn’t see the little smile creep to my lips when I thought about getting back to my clients, who were probably dying to see me again; dying to throw money at my feet for taking them to heaven and back. A shiver of excitement ran down my spine.
“I’ll think of something,” I said.
The crummy apartment I’d left behind seemed even more crummy when I returned. Smaller too. And despite the paint job my mother had done, the place still felt cold, unwelcoming, and dull. The old place was a home; this was...not.
My mom’s hug lasted just as long as my dad’s, and I had to pry her off just like I had him. Parents! And although I made a point of acting cool and independent, I’d missed the crap out of them.
“I put fresh sheets on your bed,” Mom said.
But I had no intention of going to sleep, jet-lagged though I was. Instead, I took a shower and got dressed, prettied myself up.
“Where are you off to already? I thought you wanted to sleep,” Dad said as I headed out the door.
“To see a friend.”
“Tell Jo I said hi.”
I rolled my eyes. “I have other friends besides Jo, Dad.”
“Of course you do, love.”
His inadvertent condescension only made me laugh. The truth was, before my sexy, wealthy clients, all of whom I considered my friends, Jo was my only friend. There were acquaintances I said hello to every now and then, but no one I hung out with. That was why being with the ladies meant so much to me; for the first time in my life I had a social life. I’d made friends in RADA, of course, thanks to my new-found confidence. But nothing compared to being the center of attention to hot, rich housewives.
It was one of said housewives that I was on my way to see. The smile that spread across my face as I trotted to the bus stop could not be contained. I’d been beaming like that all through my flight, knowing it was only a matter of time before I saw the lovely Dana again.
I said hello and sat beside the old man perched at the bus stop. I’d never seen him befo
re, but my spirits were so high that afternoon, talking to strangers seemed like the natural thing to do.
I took out my phone and flicked through my photos until I got to the second week in January. These were photos I’d seen a thousand times or more, and couldn’t stop staring at. There we were, me and Dana; snaps taken on a night out in Soho, on a morning outside Buckingham Palace, and an evening in her hotel room, in bed, naked, the camera aimed in such a way that no naughty bits were showing. In total, thirty-five pictures of her or us together, all locked away behind a secret photo vault app that required a password to access.
Just as she’d promised, she’d visited me in London. The best four days of my life. We'd spent every day together, most of which were passed in bed, in her hotel room at The Ritz. On her final night, I almost told her I loved her. But that wasn’t the right time, just as it hadn’t been the night before I left for London.
Looking at those pictures of us — smiling, happy, perfect — we could have been Mrs and Mrs Evans-Frost. She could have been mine. When I zoomed in on her hand, I noticed that her wedding ring was missing. She never wore it the whole time we were together. For me, or to avoid awkward questions? Who knew?
I spent the whole bus ride looking through the photos of my time in London. The sights, the friends I’d made — who all seemed to think I was hilarious for some reason — school, my housemates. The life I’d built in the UK was everything I’d dreamed of, but as long as she wasn’t there, it never felt complete.
Wrapping my knuckles against the mansion door, I sucked in a deep breath, the excitement rising to my head, making me dizzy. Thump, thump went my heart. What would she do when she opened the door and saw me standing there, unexpected, having not called and told her I was back in town? Would she embrace me in a hug that rivaled my parents’, kiss me incessantly (something the Brits called “snogging”... don’t ask me why)?
When the door opened, my smile vanished. It wasn’t Dana that answered, but a shaggy-haired dude in his twenties, wearing nothing but boxers, a bowl of Cheerios in his hand. He looked just as suspicious to see me as I was to see him. Who the heck was he and why was he answering Dana’s door?
“Uh, hi...”
“Uh, hi,” he repeated, before stuffing a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.
“Is Dana here, I’m a friend of hers?”
“Is Dana here, I’m a friend of hers?” he parroted.
Okay, this was getting really weird. Why was he repeating everything I said?
I didn’t speak, only stared at him, wondering what was going on, and what he would do next. He seemed to find this whole thing amusing.
“What else you got?” he said finally.
“Are you going to keep repeating everything I say?”
“Are you going to keep repeating everything I say?”
Now I was pissed.
“Dude, what is your problem?” My voice was raised. I couldn’t help it. This moron, within seconds, had destroyed my good mood.
Just as he opened his mouth to, no doubt, repeat my last sentence, I heard, “Parker, are you antagonizing people again?”
Dana. Her voice restored my faith in happiness.
He grinned, then called back, “No, Ma. Just being my usual, playful self.”
Ma? He was her son? This imbecile? Well that was a relief, at least he wasn’t her lover.
“Who’s at the door?”
“Some girl looking for you. Says she’s a friend, but I’m sure she’s lying.” He turned back to me, a wicked smile on his face. “What are you to her, exactly? Are you fucking her? You must be fucking her. Can I watch?”
Wide-eyed and wide-mouthed, I stood there, unable to move or speak while he chuckled maniacally to himself. I’d never met anyone so eww before, and I’d met a lot of gross people in my time.
When Dana finally appeared, she looked both shocked and embarrassed to see me.
“Erica. What are you doing here? When did you get back?”
Parker, the disgusting, incestuous pig, stood by, stuffing his face, watching us with intrigue. She didn’t even invite me inside.
“Today. I wanted to surprise you.”
“You should have called.”
“Yeah, you should have called, Erica,” Parker said.
“Can you go somewhere else, please?” she scolded, shooting him a furious look.
“Why?”
She just stared at him until he got the message that she wasn’t playing, and slumped off.
“You really should have called first, Erica.”
“I know, I just wanted to see... that’s your son?” I couldn’t quite believe that someone like that could have come out of someone like her.
“Step. He’s...” She went quiet, leaned in a little, then added, “bipolar. He’s staying here for a while.”
“Oh.” That explained everything. What I really wanted to know was how this would affect us. She must have sensed this.
“It’s a sensitive time right now. I’m sorry.”
“Does that mean we can’t see each other?”
“Not while he’s here. It would be too complicated. I’m sorry.” She pecked me on the cheek. “You smell great,” she whispered, and instantly made me wet. “I’ll call you when things are less hectic.”
She waved, headed back inside, and closed the door on me.
That wasn’t the welcome home reception I was expecting.
TWO
The work phone sat on my desk and didn’t ring. This was the state it had been in since my return six days prior, since sending out a text blast to all of my clients, informing them of my return. Six days and not a single reply. The fish weren’t biting.
I stared longingly at the phone, willing it to ring, as I had been doing for days. What little money I had left was almost gone, so this was more about my survival than my aching need to satiate my sexual urges. Okay, so it had been months since I’d slept with anyone. Five and a half months, to be exact. The last night of Dana’s stay in London. It was beautiful and, along with the naughty photos, had kept me going while I agonized through the months of celibacy. But I was now like a cat in heat; a broke cat that needed money and sex in equal measure.
A knock on my door dragged me from my reverie. My mother entered seconds later. When she saw me still lying in bed, in my pajamas, her face scrunched up with distaste.
“It’s half eleven. Shouldn’t you be at work or something?”
“I don’t have a job.”
“Shouldn’t you get one?”
For a woman who’d spent her entire adult life not working, she sure liked to preach to me about my laziness.
“I’ve been looking online. There’s nothing.” It had taken just twenty-four hours for me to regret coming home. Her joy at having me back grew stale real quick. I was back to being the burdensome extra mouth to feed.
“Dad can’t afford to support you for the new school year, you know that. That’s all I’m saying.”
I sighed. “That’s not all you’re saying.” She was implying that I needed to, and rightfully so, help out financially.
I got up, pulled open my closet.
“Are you going to look for a job?”
“No, I’m going to see Jo. She’s back from Hawaii. We’ve got catching up to do.”
My mother tutted, mumbled in Tagalog what I could only imagine were disparaging remarks, then slammed out of the room. She was just as miserable as I was. No clients, no Dana, and empty pockets. I knew only Jo could cheer me up.
My best friend in the whole world was sporting a perfect tan, one that rivaled my permanent one, and some colorful beads in her messy, dark-blonde hair. That wasn’t the reason why I was gawking at her, however. It was the fact that she had her tongue down the throat of a strange guy I’d never met or heard of before.
They were sitting on her bed, swallowing each other’s faces, seemingly oblivious to the fact that there was someone else in the room with them.
I cleared my throat fo
r the third time since arriving.
An uncharacteristically giggly Jo tore her lips from his, cheeks lighting up. “Sorry, Erica. We get a little carried away.”
“I can see that.”
The boy, Moses (I was certain that wasn’t his real name) had the long, dirty blonde hair of a stoned surfer — all of the grease, none of the charm. He wasn’t bad to look at, but I got the sense he thought he was God’s gift to the female species. There was a whiff of arrogance about him, the way he draped a lazy arm around Jo, like she was his property. Or how he spoke in short, broken sentences to appear mysterious. I didn’t like him on sight. But from the way Jo was acting, gushing like a smitten teenager dating the star football player, I knew I was alone.
“How did you neglect to tell me you were seeing someone new?” I said, feeling slightly betrayed. We’d spoken several times while I was away, and she’d never mentioned him, yet they’d been together four months already.
“It was new. I didn’t know where we were going.”
“And now you do?” Fingers crossed it’s your separate ways, I thought.
She looked at him lovingly, kissed him on the cheek. “Yeah.”
“She can’t keep her hands off me. What can I do?” he said, shrugging smugly. “She wouldn’t be the first. Once you go Moses, you never go back.”
“That doesn’t rhyme...” I mumbled to myself. No one heard.
I sat on the computer chair and did my best not to look disappointed that this Moses character was impeding on my catch-up time with my best friend. How could we speak candidly with him in the room?
“So, what do you do, Moses?”
“For a living?” He laughed. “Whatever I want. I can make money doing anything. Gives me freedom.”
“Okay...”
“He’s an amazing poker player,” Jo jumped in. “Travels all around the country, taking part in tournaments. The last tournament he made, like, three grand.”
She couldn’t have been genuinely this excited about poker. For as long as I’d known her, the only card game she played was Snap.