Love, Lies and Louboutins (Heartbreak Book 2)

by S. M Phillips

  “Wait, there’s a bright side to all this?” Matt asks disbelievingly, and he looks thoroughly dumbfounded, which only amuses me more.

  “Uh-huh. There sure is because now you’ll be warm and you’ll look all pretty too.” I reply sarcastically while giving my zipper another firm tug. Please don’t split, please don’t split… I chant to myself. I take in a deep breath and the zip moves, and praise everything that’s holy, it hasn’t burst open. As soon as I dare to breathe again, I take in Matt’s furrowed brow, but I refuse to feel sorry for him. He’s a fully grown man after all. “Now let this be a lesson to you,” I say seriously before stepping into my beautiful Louboutin’s. A girl has to look the part after all, even though I know that these fuckers are going to hurt like a bitch by eleven o’clock. Oh well, no pain, no gain as they say. “Maybe next time you might want to try getting all your stuff together the night before. It’s just a thought but I’ve heard it’s a massive time saver in the mornings. Give it a try and then let me know how you find it. I believe it’s supposed to work a treat.”

  “Really?” Matt snaps.

  I turn around to face him again while slipping into one of my trusty, very much loved and lived in denim jackets and he looks murderous. Oh, that’s it, he’s pissed now. Boy, if looks could kill. It’s actually quite comical really, and I think so far this morning we have definitely established that dear old Matthew doesn’t like to be told what to do, either.

  He’s still stood in all his glory trying his best to project out his dominance and my mind wanders off to a much better place. A place where I’m imagining all kinds of things that I could be doing to him right now instead of getting into a bloody argument over my favourite pair of bright pink, fluffy slipper socks.

  Seriously, the boy doesn’t even know how lucky and privileged he is to even get a chance at wearing them. For me, it’s exactly the same as your favourite pair of go-to comfy knickers. You know the kind, the ones you wear that make you feel all snug and content. The perfect ‘hey look at me, I’m getting no action, but it’s all good because I’ve got shit loads of chocolate to get through, anyway’.

  I’ve had them for as long as I can remember and I swear to God, if any holes appear in them from his big, burly man-feet then there will be war. “Don’t really me, Matthew.” I scowl back at him, he’s still spitting his dummy out. I try to mimic his moody expression but I fail miserably. “You’re going to be late and we wouldn’t want that now, would we? Now be a good boy and put those bloody socks on.”

  “Emily, this is ridiculous.”

  “Yes, it is.” That’s about the most intelligent thing he’s said all bloody morning. “So how about you stop being a girl about it? Plus…” I say, deciding it’s probably best that I ignore his desperate pleas as they won’t get either of us anywhere. “I need to make a move soon too. So I get fully caffeinated at Rachel’s before I set off head first into the big wide world of the unknown.” I throw my hands out and shake them nervously as I think about the day ahead.

  “Nervous?” Matt asks, his voice and face are much softer as he slowly steps towards me, now with the additional bright-pink, fluffy slipper socks firmly on his feet. Now I have to give credit where credit is due; surprisingly, they look pretty good on him.

  “Hmmm… yeah, a little.” I reply.

  Right now, I’m absolutely bricking it and I’m questioning if I’ve even made the right decision. This stupid idea of mine could go one of two ways, really. It could turn out to be the best thing that I’ve ever done, or it could potentially be the worst decision of my life. However, it’s too late to back out now and I guess only time will tell.

  “You’ll be amazing. You know that, right? Because you are amazing, Parker and don’t you ever think otherwise. I’m so proud of you…” I know he means well, but he’s not doing anything to settle my nerves. Instead, he’s only adding fuel to the panic-stricken fire in my stomach.

  “Hey, enough about me. You need to put some clothes on and get ready for work. As much as I love admiring your physique, you’re really not helping by parading your body around in front of me when you should have left the house over ten minutes ago.” Matt laughs softly at me and shakes his head a little, his big boyish smile fixed firmly back on his face. Then he looks at me with his best come to bed eyes, but instead of luring me into his trap, he reminds me of that crazy chicken out of one of the Disney movies that I watched recently. “Now, I mean it, Matthew, get dressed.”

  I won’t lie. I’m taken by complete surprise when he does what he’s been told for once and grabs his clothes from my chair where he randomly chucked them last night. Maybe it’s time I offered him a drawer, or something? Nothing serious, just somewhere nice for his clothes to live when he stays over, and that way he might be able to find his shit without a meltdown.

  “Hey, Parker,” he beams up at me as soon as his monstrous size twelves are firmly in his shoes. “You’ll be fine. You know you’ll smash it.”

  I swallow hard and nod silently back at him. I’m not one hundred percent sure that I will be fine, but I know that I’ll be a lot better than him today. My poor innocent slipper socks look more like a pair of ankle socks on him and sweet baby Jesus, you can see them clear as day peeping over his shoes as his pants roll up when he’s sat down.

  God bless him, the poor love. My big, strong, dominant man looking all pretty in pink. Usually, I would say something to him, but after everything that’s happened this morning, I don’t think either of us have the time to bring it to his attention.

  I make it to Rachel’s with just enough time to grab my morning caffeine fix before my first ever client is due to arrive, thanks to Matt being a complete and utter knob earlier. However, I’ve wasted enough time and energy on that situation already this morning.

  Oh, but my first ever client, though. The thought alone sounds weird in my head, not to mention it’s currently scaring the living daylights out of me, and right now on a scale of one to ten - I’m dead.

  Who would have thought it, little old me with an actual real-life client? I mean I’m talking about a real-life, human client here for my brand-new business adventure. Holy shit, stop the press! Since when did I become all grown up?

  My chest tightens and my palms feel all sticky as I try to smooth down my dress. Maybe it would be for the best if I stopped thinking for a little while. It’s not really helping me out right now and it’s definitely not doing anything to ease my overly sensitive and shattered nerves. More importantly, it’s not filling me with an ounce of confidence – confidence I so desperately need to get me through today.

  Instead of feeling happy and intoxicated with elation, it’s like a shit-load of snakes are wriggling like crazy deep within my stomach, and because no day would ever be complete without a royal Emily fuck up, I can already detect a dull thud pulsating in my toes as my precious new Louboutin’s work their magic. Bloody gel cushions my arse. If anything, they’re making the pain worse.

  I shudder when I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the shop window.

  Dear God, my grandmother would be mortified if she could see me now. I wouldn’t mind, but I’ll openly admit I looked half decent when I eventually set off this morning. Yet now I look like I’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards then whizzed around purely for shits and giggles, only to be shoved right back through it again.

  All I wanted was to appeal smart and somewhat professional on my first day. I wanted to show that I am the image of my business and brand, you know, start as you mean to go on and all that, because those first couple of seconds when you meet someone are everything; it’s life. First impressions are key and here I am looking like no one owns me. Actually, scrap that. What with my hair all over the show, my Twofaced Better Than Sex mascara giving me a beautiful panda eye I’ve just been fucked senseless appearance, and my evil, traitorous Louboutin’s causing me to walk like I’ve been shagged seven ways ‘til Sunday first thing on a Monday morning, I think I’m more likely to resembl
e a high-class hooker who’s fallen from grace with a God almighty bang, with nothing left other than to take the dreaded walk of shame for the whole of London to see.

  One day. All I wanted was for one day to go just how I imagined — flawlessly perfect. I mean, is it too much to ask for one day to go as planned?

  Ha, of course it is! This is my life that we’re talking about here, and it seems that the entire universe and its many moons and stars have other ideas when it comes to me and my plans.

  Seriously, going off my track record, why the hell would I ever begin to expect anything else?

  Rachel spots me the moment I step foot through the door, her cute little doorbell chiming sweetly above me as I push the door further away from me.

  She instantly stops what she’s doing by the coffee machine and even I look on in shock as she politely asks her customer to excuse her for a moment. Now that’s something that Rachel doesn’t do — ever.

  “Shit, now I’m in the dog-house.” I mutter as Rachel makes a bee-line for me, her eyes growing unnaturally wide as she takes in the horrific sight of me. To be fair, they’re that wide I’m surprised they don’t pop out of their sockets.

  “Flaming Nora,” she squeals and my poor body flinches a little at the sound. “What the hell happened to you?” Jeez, thanks a bunch. If ever I needed confirmation of how dog shit I looked, Rachel’s just gone and done it for me, but then again, what are best friends for? “Jesus Christ, Emily,” she gasps, continuing to flap, and not letting me get a word in. She gives me a disapproving look before throwing her towel over her shoulder, “have you seen the time? It’s almost nine. Talk about cutting it finely.”

  Bloody hell, by the way she’s stressing, anyone would think that this was her first day of being a world dominating CEO. I know I’m pushing it for time and I look like shit, but even I’m not flapping that much. She’s going to end up giving herself an aneurism if she carries on. “You’re telling me,” I finally say, panting like a dog as I try to regulate my breathing and tame the mass of frizz that was once the hair on my head. I swear it didn’t look like this when I left the house. I’m pretty sure I glanced in the mirror before I rushed out, or maybe I didn’t?

  “Maybe you should sit down for a minute and try to collect yourself.” Rachel says and I know she’s trying her damned hardest to sound empathetic, but her eyes are telling me she’d happily give me a bloody good shake.

  “A minute?” I ask. How about an hour, or maybe I could turn around and go straight back home, jump in bed and try all this adulting stuff again tomorrow?

  The latter sounds so good right now that I’m tempted to try it. However, if I’m being realistic, I do need to compose myself, but there’s not a cat in hell’s chance that I’m going to be able to do that in a minute. What does she take me for, Wonder Woman? Maybe she doesn’t realise that this isn’t really the time for shits and giggles?

  This is real. This is happening.

  While we’re on the subject of important matters, if there’s one thing that this horrific morning from hell has taught me, it’s the dreaded realisation that I’m not as fit as I used to be and I really need to get my fat, saggy, lazy, arse into gear and do some much-needed exercise and fast.

  And my feet, these God-awful shoes are tearing them apart. Slowly torturing my perfectly pedicured tootsies. Everything’s a mess, and judging from the vintage clock hanging on the wall, it’s only just gone nine.

  Against my better judgement, I decide to listen to Rachel and the throbbing pleas of my feet and plonk said lazy backside down into the nearest chair. As if by magic, Rachel appears and slides my coffee across the shiny polished oak table. I have no idea how she made it so fast, but at the same time a huge part of me doesn’t even care as my senses welcome the rich aroma coming from my elixir. If I had any energy left in my body to move, I’d happily use it all up on squeezing her to death, but fortunately for her I can just about manage a barely audible, “Thanks.”

  “I don’t even need to ask what happened, do I?” She questions as she falls into the seat beside me and a faint smirk traces the edge of her lips.

  “I don’t know,” I reply, hoping that I look as confused as I feel. My hands eagerly reach out for my liquid of life and I hold it protectively, never wanting it to leave my reach again. I’ve waited so long for this one cup. I don’t care what anyone says, the first cup is always the best, awakening every part of the soul, allowing you to believe that anything is possible.

  Caffeine, that is what you do for me and for that, I will always be thankful.

  “Hmmm,” she pauses for a moment and then regards me suspiciously. Please God, allow me enough time to savour this precious fluid before I get the grilling of a lifetime. “It’s Matt, isn’t it? He stayed over at yours last night, didn’t he?”

  “Yeah, he did,” I reply in between sips of coffee. I’ve got no idea what she’s getting at, but I can’t help feeling like I’ve done something super naughty. This is stupid, it’s 2017 not the middle-ages. Since when did it become such a crime for your boyfriend to stay over?

  I watch as Rachel’s perfectly threaded eyebrows shoot up as if she’s trying to tell me something, but to me she just looks like she’s fallen victim to a bad facelift and it really doesn’t look all too pretty. Maybe I should keep this in mind when we’re older, especially if neither of us have the genes to grow old gracefully.

  And that’s when it clicks… the penny finally drops. “Ugh, get your bloody head out of the gutter, Rach. It’s far too early for me to even discuss it, never mind act on it, and that’s coming from me.” I can’t help but laugh a little. “I’m not late because of Matt, well actually that would be a lie, but it’s not because of what you think.”

  “Hey, whatever,” she shrugs, clearly pretending she’s not fussed but, I know Rachel and if I wasn’t late I know she’d want all the deets. It doesn’t matter what I say to her, I know she won’t believe me and why should she when I look like I’ve just been shagged? Perhaps I wouldn’t be so stressed out if I had. Maybe that’s where it’s all gone wrong for me. Do you know what? If today falls flat on its arse then I’m going to blame Matt for not giving me a good seeing-to this morning. Yes, that sounds pretty acceptable to me. Rachel holds her hands up above her head, but her little Miss know-it-all grin doesn’t budge from her pretty face. “Look, it’s nothing to do with me. If you want to have fun and games with the cocker worm first thing in a morning, then that’s your call.”

  “The what?” I ask, unsure of whether I heard her correctly.

  “The cocker worm. You know, Matt’s penis.” She shakes her head at me in utter disappointment as if I’m supposed to know what the hell she’s talking about. “But anyway, that’s completely irrelevant. Being your best friend comes with some solid ground rules you know. One of them being that it’s my job to make sure that your first day as a high-flying business woman goes as smoothly as possible. I really want this to work out for you, Emily. It’s genius and it could be absolutely amazing, but only if you give it your all,” she pauses briefly to place her hand over mine and gives me a little squeeze of friendly encouragement, “this baby needs your full attention. I’m your friend and I love you immensely. Trust me, I want this little venture of yours to succeed with everything that I have, so take this as your only warning — I will come down on you like a ton of fucking shit if I have to. Is that clear?”

  “Crystal…” Holy shit, I know she can be a bossy boots, but wow, I’m currently feeling like she’s just whipped my pants down and torn me a new one. “You know I’ll always be eternally grateful to you, don’t you?” My eyes fill up a little as I finish my coffee. Thankfully, the mug is big enough to hide them. Bloody Rachel, honestly, I have no idea what I ever did so right to have her in my life. No matter how busy she is or what’s happening in her own life, she always makes sure that I’m okay and I have everything I could possibly need. Come rain or shine, she’s always there for me.

  She’s simply awes
ome, without a shadow of a doubt, everything about her is just perfect. This little business venture of mine wouldn’t even be possible if it wasn’t for Rachel.

  Six months ago, Rachel saved my arse big time. She didn’t have to, but she wanted to, or that’s what she said. Either way, she pushed me forward and held my hand each and every step of the way.

  Just before Christmas, I lost my job; my career. The one and only thing I absolutely knew I was shit-hot at, and it was through no fault of my own. If it was, maybe I would have been able to handle it a lot better. Instead I knew that it was nothing I had done, yet no one would believe me and no one wanted to listen to a word that I had to say about it either. So, without so much as a reason, I was wrongfully suspended, which in turn led to a full on, slap in the face, thanks for nothing dismissal. Why, I hear you ask? Well, it soon transpired that some little slapper, AKA Cruella de Bitch had some serious Daddy issues and couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else getting in the way. Not that I was getting in the way. I was just doing my job and a bloody good one at that too.

  As always, good old Rachel here was with me through it all and even gave me a job here at her coffee shop too. I was totally grateful to her for saving my bacon, but she knew I wasn’t happy here. My heart just wasn’t in it. Anyone who knows me knows that I’m a girl who likes to drink coffee, I’m not the girl to serve it.

  It wasn’t all that bad really when I look back. I didn’t mind it at times and it got me out of the house on a daily basis at least. Dear God, I couldn’t imagine spending my mornings with Jeremy Kyle and his guests every day. The odd one here and there wasn’t so bad, but every day? That would be enough to send me loopy.

  I know how lucky I am too because I also know that a lot of people don’t have a Rachel to bail them out of the shit and she also knew it wasn’t something that I wanted to do forever, the coffee shop is her thing. So, one night after we’d closed up, she sat me down and gave me a firm talking to. She seems to be doing that quite a lot lately and I think I’m going to have to reign her in a little before she gets way ahead of herself.