Code Redhead - A Serial Novel

by Sharon Kleve

  “Afternoon sir, how are you today?”

  “I’m fine thanks, and yourself?”

  “Yes, not bad thanks. I just want to give you one of these sir. We have a book signing event at our store right around the corner.”

  “Wow, who is the author?”

  “J. K Rowling herself. One of our finest British writers.”

  Richard widens his eyes as he looks at the young man in his early twenties, waving a flyer under his nose. He takes in his uniform, it’s clear this young man works at Waterstones bookstore.

  “No way, really where’s the store?”

  “Right down this road here, on Piccadilly Street you can’t miss it.”

  Richard follows the young man’s pointed finger, to the bank on the corner.

  “Thank you, I’ll be right over. Now this I can’t miss.”

  “Great come right along, she will do a reading also.”

  The young man waves goodbye to Richard and greets a new stream of passers-by. Finishing his coffee, he briskly walks toward Piccadilly Street in search of Waterstones bookstore.

  Up on the third floor of Waterstones, I browse the romance reader’s section, in search of something to read. I feel like a little indulgence in love after all, it is Valentine’s Day tomorrow. Another year on my own. Some days I feel content by this— no drama to worry about. Especially with my night time rendezvous at Stringfellows Gentlemen’s Club and entertaining clients at Elite Escorts. I enjoy both my jobs, how I fell into this line of work is a story that goes back many years. On the other hand, some days I long for someone to share a nice romantic meal with. Armed with five romance paperbacks I make my way downstairs to the ground floor. To join the other J. K Rowling fans in anticipation.

  As Richard walks into the busy bookstore he de-layers himself. One thing he’d forgotten since his last trip to London, is just how cold it can get during the last of the winter months. As he de-layers he, does a double-take. It’s her, he’s sure of it. Her long flowing wavy red hair, her pale skin and confident walk with her head thrown back.

  “Oi watch-it, mate”

  “I’m sorry, I beg your pardon I never noticed you there.”

  Richard stares down at the shorthaired woman, with thick-rimmed Harry Potter style glasses he bumped into, while his gaze followed Rita across the crowded bookstore.

  “Excuse me, I’ve— I’ve got to go.”

  Richard picks up his pace as he weaves in and out of the crowd on the ground floor. From a safe distance, he follows Rita or Code Redhead, as Dan named her. It is her. With an arm full of paperbacks too. From what he saw the other night at Stringfellows Gentlemen’s Club, Richard is surprised to know she’s a bookworm. Never judge a book by how well it works a stripper pole. Runs through his mind as he laughs to himself. He watches her pay for her books, and then turn in his direction to scan the crowd. Richard turns away slightly. For some strange reason he does not want her to notice him—not just yet. Once she turns away from him, he watches her rummage through her handbag. He takes in her appearance some more. Tight fitted black skinny jeans with a rip in both knees, an oversized red jumper with a crawl neck that hangs off her shoulder to one side. On her feet are flat black suede boots that stop just under her knees. Today she wears a more toned down shade of red lipstick, matching her nail polish. Hanging from her ears are a large pair of earrings with bright colourful peacock feathers on them, they dangle down to her shoulder. On each of her wrists are silver bracelets. He likes her style. Outside of work, Rita’s style looks more like a trendy gypsy girl, with long flowing waves of thick red hair. The earrings and bangles give her an edge, teamed up with her red lips and nails. Should I go over? Will she talk to me? C’mon Clarkson— you’re the man! Of course, she will.

  Before Richard has a chance to convince himself otherwise, his feet take him over to her.

  “Hey, Rita nice to see you.”

  Richard looks down at Rita, under his six-foot-three height. She looks up at him, and a small smile creeps across her red lips. What is he doing here? Wow, he looks gorgeous. Runs through her mind.

  “Hey, Mr. Clarkson— I mean Richard, how are you?”

  “I’m good, just out sightseeing for the day. What are you doing here?”

  “Oh, I’m just here looking around and waiting for J.K Rowling to appear, I’d love to get my book signed.”

  “Oh cool, so you’re a fan?”

  “Yeah, I’m a huge fan, what about you?”

  “Hmm I’ve watched the movies and really enjoyed them.”

  The pair stand locked in a gaze for a moment too long. Richard breaks the spell.

  “Rita would you—”

  “Attention please all those that are here for the book signing for J.K. Rowling”

  Richard and I spin around to look for where the voice is coming from and spy a store assistant at the till, speaking over the store’s announcement microphone.

  “I’m sorry, those of you who turned up for today’s special event, sadly

  J.K Rowling will not be able to make today. She’s been rather unwell with the bad winter weather. She’s rescheduled today’s event for a week from today.”

  “Oh, you’re kidding me. I’ll be back in New York by then.”

  “That’s a shame. If you’d like me to, I’ll get a copy signed for you and post it to you— if that’s not too forward of course.” I shyly lower my eyes to the ground, as Richard turns his attention to me.

  “Sure, that would be really cool. I’d like that.”

  Richard and I stand smiling at each other at the cash register, as the crowd around us thins out.

  “Rita, I—er, would you like to go for something to eat? I’m starved.”

  Before I can answer him, I toy with my internal feelings and desire to know Richard better. He’s asking me to lunch? I’m not sure about that—no complications remember.

  “I—er”

  “OK, I’m sorry, why don’t we just go for a walk around the city?”

  “That sounds…great.”

  I watch him pick up a copy of the latest Harry Potter book and glance down at me.

  “You made a promise remember— you’ll get it signed next week? And send it to me in New York.”

  “Sure, a deal is a deal.”

  After Richard pays for his book, we leave Waterstones and walk back up toward the main strip of Piccadilly Circus.

  “So, which way from here, Rita?”

  “Hmm, well if you really want to see the city of London, there’s no better way to do it than on one of our London hop-on, hop-off tour buses.”

  “Really? Wow now that sounds different. Lead the way.”

  “If my memory serves me correctly, just over by the steak house there’s a pick up point for a bus.”

  Richard and I cross over the main road at Piccadilly Circus, and head toward the Angus Steak house restaurant on the other side of Piccadilly. Richard looks at me as we weave in and out of the crowds, walking in all directions along Piccadilly Circus. Once we’re are outside the steak house, a ticket vendor approaches us.

  “Afternoon ma’am, can I help you with a ticket for our bus tour?”

  “Ah yes please, that would be great. Where do you stop?”

  “We start off here at Piccadilly, then we go through Trafalgar Square, St James’

  Place, Hyde Park Corner, Marble Arch, Lancaster Gate, Paddington, back here to Piccadilly, Buckingham Palace, Westminster and finally the London Eye.

  “Wow, that’s a cool tour.” Richard cuts in.

  “Yes, sir—and that’s just central London.”

  “We’ll take two tickets please.” I respond as I pull out my purse. Richard stops me.

  “Allow me please.” Richard digs into his pocket for his wallet and pays the vendor for our tickets.

  “Thank you sir, good timing, here comes the next bus. Enjoy your tour.”

  “Thanks we will. Let’s hop on, Rita.”

  The chilly London weather doesn’t stop me
from leading Richard upstairs to the open top double-decker bus, and sitting in the front row. We huddle together for warmth as our conversation takes a natural and easy flow.

  “So tell me, a little bit about yourself Rita?”

  I blush under Richard’s gaze. Staring into his large light brown eyes, I feel the heat rise to my cheeks.

  “Well, I was born and raised here in London, I’m from an Irish background and I’ve been working at the hotel for a few years now.”

  “And what do you like to do in your spare time other than read?”

  I let out a laugh. “Yeah, I’m a big reader.”

  “I can tell, you picked up quite a few books today—anything interesting? Let me see.”

  I hand over my Waterstones bag and cringe. I have nothing but lovey-dovey romance novels to show.

  “Romance, hmm, I would have never guessed.”

  “Really? Don’t I look like a romance reader?”

  “Well what does a romance reader look like? But I guess at first glance I never had you down as the soppy type.”

  I playfully smack Richard on his left arm. “I am not soppy!”

  “Sure, she says with five romance novels in her bag.”

  We cackle with laughter.

  “So what about you? Tell me a bit about you?”

  “I’m from Queens, New York born and raised. I did well in college and went on to qualify as an accountant. Dan and I went to college together. He and I now run an accountancy firm over in Manhattan, New York.

  “I’d love to go to New York, it always looks so busy and buzzing with all the yellow taxis on TV shows. And I love the New York accent.” I give Richard a sly wink and smile.

  “Ha, oh really—yeah that concrete jungle. It’s busy all right. Being a Londoner, you’d probably get used to it pretty quickly. And we have a large population of people of Irish descent also.”

  “Hmm, sounds very inviting. Who knows? Maybe one day I’ll come and see for myself.”

  “That, would be…nice. Make sure you look me up if you do.”

  Richard smiles down at me, I hope he has not noticed me blush again under his gaze.

  “And what do you enjoy for fun, Richard?”

  At the question, Richard glances at Rita, this time he focuses on her red lips, oh how I long to kiss those lips. Runs through his mind as he takes a deep breath and clears his throat.

  “I—ah, well.”

  Get your words out Clarkson, damn it. He curses himself internally as he struggles to keep his mind free of what I’d like to do with Rita….For fun.

  “Sports, reading, eating out— I love food.”

  “Really? Me too. Do you like cooking too?”

  “I wish I could cook, that I’m not great at. I always appreciate a well-cooked meal though.”

  “What kind of food do you enjoy?”

  “Without a doubt, Italian and Chinese. We have a large population from these backgrounds also back home. New York is bursting with great restaurants.”

  Privately, I daydream about sharing a meal with Richard, what’s got in to me, no complications is my motto. There is no doubt about it, I’ve been attracted to Richard from the moment he walked into Park Hotel, in his well-cut dark suit and expensive looking winter coat. Ninety-eight percent of my clients at Elite Escorts are short, white and bold. Visually, those clients are so different from the tall, handsome and sexy Richard Clarkson.

  I stare out the window still in my daydream as the bus cruises through Trafalgar Square at a slow pace, to allow all sightseers on the bus to take note of the landmarks. Trafalgar Square is one of London’s busy and lively spots. Located a few minutes’ walk from the busy bar and restaurant area, is Leicester Square. For a Tuesday afternoon Trafalgar Square is busy with people gathering around Nelson’s Column and the water display.

  As the tour bus heads over Westminster Bridge and past the busy entrance of the underground station, the London Eye wheel comes in to view. Richard has formed a very different impression of Rita. Instead of the high maintenance siren he imagined she would be, he learned she’s down-to-earth and highly intelligent. He can’t work out why she spends her evenings slaving away at Stringfellows Gentlemen’s Club.

  “Richard, I’m going to jump off here and catch the number two bus home. I have to cut our tour short, I’m sorry.”

  “OK, no problem. What are your plans for this evening?”

  I look away from Richard and focus on my hands placed in my lap.

  “Oh nothing special I just have to get going, I have to be somewhere in a few hours.”

  “I see. No problem. Thanks for a great afternoon.”

  “You’re welcome, I had fun too.”

  “Would you like to—”

  “Richard, I have to go I’m sorry. Safe journey back to New York”

  “Rita—”

  Before Richard can finish his sentence, I gather my bags ready to jump off at the next stop. At the staircase leading to the lower deck of the bus. I turn to him.

  “Richard, you seem like a nice guy, thanks for today.”

  “Rita I’d love to keep in—”

  “Bye Richard.”

  Richard sits frozen in his seat staring into the thin air Rita disappeared into. He turns his attention to the pavement below him, and looks out at Rita as she leaves the bus. She does not look up at him on the top deck. He watches her check her watch, and set off at a quick pace, as she walks toward the bus stop. He feels a connection to Rita. As silly as it appears he’s only just met her, but he wants to know more about her. She broke the mould in terms of the usual type of woman he’d go for. Visually, Rita is slender and delicate. His usual type is curvy, or hourglass. Rita is also much taller than his usual type. Both her vampy siren look, and her dressed down casual girl-next-door look appeal to him. As for her vocation, well he’s never experienced any attraction past sexual toward a stripper. With Rita, it is more than sexual.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  One Night in London

  6:00p.m.

  Once I’m showered and fresh, I wrap myself up in a fluffy towel, and then pin my long red hair up away from my face. I sit down at my make-up table, to get ready for another five-hour slog at Stringfellows Gentlemen’s Club. My mind is still racing from the time Richard and I spent together earlier. Mr. Clarkson totally surprised me with his request to sightsee around London. I enjoyed every moment of it, and his company. His handsome face is still as clear as day in my mind. His smooth caramel skin and handsome features, topped off with a charming smile. No complications, my internal voice reminds me. I can’t help it, there’s something about him that makes me keen to know more about him. Apart from a physical attraction, after today’s meaningful conversation about life, society, even politics and books. I want to know him more.

  I make up my face and finish off with my signature red lipstick. Tonight, I’d much rather curl up on my sofa, with one of my romance novels, than dance all night. Better still, I’d love to curl up with Mr. Clarkson. I wonder if he has plans for tonight?

  At 10:00.p.m. Richard and Dan enter Stringfellows Gentlemen’s Club. On an early week night, this does not stop large numbers of men flocking to the famous club. In celebration of Valentine’s Day, the next day, the club’s décor reflects the romantic event, with soft red lighting, and a special two for one offer on cocktails.

  Once seated at the same table they occupied last night, Dan orders two large whiskies with Coke.

  “If you see her tonight, what’s the plan buddy? Don’t tell me you’re going to hand her your copy of Harry Potter?”

  Richard laughs at Dan’s dig as he takes a swig of his whiskey and Coke.

  “If I see her tonight, I’m requesting a private dance. I’ll pay top dollar to speak to her.”

  “While she’s working, you wanna talk to her?”

  “Don’t worry I have a plan, you’ll see.” Richard turns to Dan and gives him a wink.

  The pretty waitress, Pearl, from their last visit stops
by their table. She flashes an eyeful of her deep cleavage, as she lowers herself into a seat next to Dan.

  “Hey gentlemen, nice to see you back so soon. Did you have fun last night?”

  “We sure did. We’re back for round two.”

  “Great, is everything OK? Can I get you some more drinks?”

  “Nah, we’re good for now, thanks. Do you know if a tall redhead is working tonight?”

  “Oh Red, yeah she’s due on centre stage tonight.”

  Richard beams from ear to ear at Peal’s response.

  “Red, that’s her name?”

  “Yep, that’s what she goes by.”

  “Tell her there’s a client here for her, requesting a private show, before she goes on centre stage.”

  “Sure, I’ll be right back.”

  Pearl sashays off into the crowd, in her skyscraper PVC black heels. She balances her tray expertly, and disappears into the crowd.

  Across the club Pearl draws back the black curtain, as she enters the private dancer’s area back stage. Immediately she spots her dear friend Rita, otherwise known as Red, checking her perfectly made up face in the mirror.

  “Rita, hey good to see you. You look stunning as always! You have a private request.”

  I look up from my make-up table and smile at Pearl, she’s such fun to work with. It’s always a pleasure to see her at work and socially outside of the club.

  “Hey Pearl, cool. Where is he?”

  “Over at table forty-four.”

  “Great, thanks.”

  I put on my red five-inch heels, and then ruffle my wavy hair. Pleased with my appearance, I strut out of the private dancer’s area with confidence into the main club. Tonight I don’t feel like dancing, and my mind is still racing with thoughts of Mr. Clarkson. I’d be stupid to show a high-paying customer during a private request, that my mind is on another man. It’s my job to make each paying customer feel special, as if he’s the only man in the world I have eyes for.