by Kimmy Love
“Mrs. Solanki, I'm sorry – really. You know I have two jobs, right? It gets a little hard to balance the two.” Heather tried to look as apologetic as possible.
“Why do you need two jobs?” Mrs. Solanki asked, ripping her glasses off her chubby face.
“The rent where I live is—“
“You live in a pricey part of town, Heather. Why don't you come down a peg or two and join the real world? We won't bite.”
“I had to move out of my last place because of the leak and the landlord—“
“I don't have time for your life story, girlie. If you can't keep up with two jobs then something has to give.” Mrs. Solanki pursed her lips for a second and put her glasses back on. “Consider that a warning.”
“Yes, Mrs. Solanki.”
Heather rushed over to the factory floor and headed to her workstation. The factory supervisor shook his head at her and looked at his watch. Heather switched on her machine and listened to the rumble of the engine as it warmed up.
She had been affixing buckles, clips and zippers onto luxury bags for the past few months. She'd asked to be moved to another section because her nails were forever breaking and her fingers would blister the second they healed. She never got used to the heavy machine but her supervisor never let her move from that damned machine.
The working day started at 7.30 in the morning at Zoop Textiles; Heather couldn't understand the necessity of such an early start. The fact that she worked four nights a week at City Hospital on the Emergency Unit Reception Desk had a lot to do with how she felt about the early start.
Needless to say, she was always tired.
Since finding work, Heather had been studying all the high school subjects she’d missed out on since leaving school at fifteen. She went to the library and devoured all the information she could. In between her two jobs, Heather was working towards taking the SATs. Not getting to finish school was one of the major sacrifices she'd made because of the way her life turned out. But at twenty-five she figured it wasn't too late to finally get herself an education; maybe a good qualification would get her a better job and she wouldn't need two.
“What happened to you?” Janey called from her own noisy machine.
“Lack of sleep,” Heather called back.
“Studying?”
“And working.”
“I don't know how you do it. And you have to come so far to work. I don't get why you moved.”
Heather knew exactly why. The area she previously lived in was bordering on a slum. It was too much like the place she grew up. She didn't want to end up back where she came from, not now that life had given her another chance. She wanted to be better; she wanted to do better. Even though she was on her own and despite how badly she had failed in the past, she was determined to succeed this time.
“A few of us are having drinks at Small's tonight,” Janey called again. “You in?”
Heather hesitated. She was saving every penny she possibly could. A quick calculation told her that at Small's she'd spend a couple dollars on a beer. Not buying a drink for anyone else, making the excuse of having to rush off early and then walking home instead of paying for a bus, meant she wouldn't really have to spend anything at all.
“All right,” she called back to Janey with a smile. “I only have time for one.”
“I know: busy, busy, busy.”
***
Small's was thick with cigarette smoke and people. Heather and Janey shouldered their way to the bar to join Carlos and Rivera, a husband and wife who seemed to be inseparable – even their workstations were next to each other.
“Hey guys! Look who's joining us for a drink.” Janey pointed her thumb at Heather, who gave a weak smile. They were quickly joined by another two other workers from Zoop Textiles. Talk soon came around to the owner, Mrs Solanki.
Janey did a great impersonation of her that sent the others into spasms of laughter. While Heather discreetly bought her own beer, avoiding putting money into a hat designed as a mechanism to share the burden of rounds. It was the last Friday of the month, payday, and it was clear to Heather the others were planning an all nighter but Heather still had schoolwork to do.
Heather sipped her beer and looked at the loud and happy faces around her.
“You're not enjoying yourself,” Janey said, breaking into her private bubble.
“Oh, I am. I'm just thinking I should be going.”
“You got a hot date?”
“No, I'm very single,” Heather said.
“Yeah, I don't get that, a gorgeous girl like you? I would fix you up with someone but I don't have any single friends apart from you.”
Heather smiled at the fact that Janey called her a friend, effectively making Janey her only friend.
“You know,” Janey went on. “I was reading about that Billionaire Matchmaker Club in a magazine.”
“What club?”
“It's a dating agency that puts hot women in touch with eligible billionaires. You should give it a go. You're hot.” Janey nudged her with her elbow.
“Why do the women have to be hot?” Heather asked.
“I don't know that they all have to be. It's just the pictures I saw in the article was filled with all hot girls, talking about their experiences. I mean a couple of the girls had been out with real jerks but there was a success story. You could you gave it a try; wear something nice and go sign up.”
“How much does it cost?” Heather's curiosity had been peaked enough for her to ask.
“For the women, I think it's free,” Janey said getting more excited. “If I was single, I would do it. Can you imagine what it must be like? It'd be another world… if you got your hands on one of those guys.”
“But is it just for dating? That sounds a bit like whoring to me.”
“Absolutely not. That's the policy of Laura Madison – the woman who owns this particular club. Hey, she's black, too.” Janey nudged Heather's elbow again with even more enthusiasm. Heather smiled. “She says she's only interested in women who are looking for monogamous relationships that will eventually lead to marriage and kids. Anyone who just wants to screw or bag a rich guy gets thrown out. That is, of course, if she doesn't weed the gold diggers out first.”
“How can she tell who's real and who isn’t?” asked Heather. “And what if the billionaires are only joining to get laid?”
“Apparently, she's strict about that kind of thing.” Janey flicked her jet black hair off her shoulder. “You sound interested, Heather. You thinking of giving it a go?”
Heather smiled but did not answer. She drained the last of her beer and reached over to the bar to place it down. She waved to everyone with two hands. “I gotta go,” she said.
They all sighed and begged her to stay for just one more drink.
“I'm sorry,” Heather said. She said mournfully, pretending to wipe tears away and then smiled. “I'll see you guys Monday.”
“Bright and early!” one of them shouted above the noise.
Heather gave a friendly wave over her shoulder as she worked her way through the ever-growing crowd. The air was cool and fresh. It wasn't dark yet so she felt good about walking home through Central Park; it would still be fairly busy. Heather wished she could have stayed longer at Small's but she knew what a risk it was for her to get too carried away. She knew the results of excess and she didn't want to go there.
There were joggers in the park wearing earphones and flashy running clothes. Heather wished she had time to work out but she was forever exhausted. What Janey said about her being hot made her laugh since she thought herself quite plain. She pulled her relaxed hair into a low ponytail every day and never wore make up. Her wardrobe of t-shirts, jeans and sweats were a trademark. She never spent a dollar on fashion or shoes. She didn't believe she could ever pass as 'hot'.
Just then, Heather caught sight of a tall, athletic looking man running towards her; he wore a gray running top and shorts and she could see the detail of the muscles
that defined his body. Heather never showed much interest in men these days. She had avoided getting involved with anyone and had been single for years. But something about this man drew her attention.
His hair was white blond and his shoulders broad. Heather would put him in his late twenties, perhaps older. He stared at the ground as he ran. He was getting closer and closer and she noticed the earphones in his ears. She wondered what he was listening to. He passed her and created a breeze. Heather took in the scent that flashed; a natural body smell but not unpleasant. A hint of deodorant she thought, or cologne. She wondered if he'd been at work that day and wondered what he did. She also wondered why she was even thinking so much about a stranger.
Even though Heather had chosen not to date, that didn't mean she wasn't lonely for male company. True, it had been years but she was afraid to trust another man again. At the same time, there were several occasions when she felt desperate to be loved and to love again – but she wanted to get it right the next time.
She felt conflicted as she approached her apartment. Should she open her heart to anyone again? If she did, she would have to date someone on the extreme spectrum of the losers she'd dated in the past.
Why not a billionaire?
Chapter2
“Yuri, what are you still doing here?”
“Working.”
“I can see that. What I want to know is, why? If you're still here then I have to be here; and I have a hot date, I want to go home and get ready.”
Susan Franklin had been Yuri Kozlov's Personal Assistant for ten years. She was less of an employee and more of a sister to him but they were really like close friends. He trusted her implicitly and couldn't function without her.
“You don't have to be here Suze. You go home,” he said. “Who's your hot date with anyway? Not that accountant nerd is it?”
“You leave my accountant nerd alone. He's the most romantic man I know and he's extremely good in the sack.”
“That's too much information.”
“You know, that's your problem, Yuri. Whenever someone talks about relationships – that is, me – you switch off and change the subject.”
“What's there to talk about? I do all right.” He looked up and leaned back in his chair.
“All right doesn’t mean being in love. All right isn't finding Miss Right,” Susan said. “That string of blond bimbos you have chasing after you only want you for your fame and fortune and you know it.”
“Does it matter? I get what I want out of it.”
“But Yuri, how long can you go on like that? I don't believe you're happy just screwing a girl and moving on, are you?”
Yuri said nothing; instead, he just looked at his computer screen where he saw numbers spread across it, the columns and rows. He was trying to analyze the spreadsheet before Susan started with her 'talk.' Of course she was right; Yuri wasn't happy on his own. In fact, he hadn't had a girl in his apartment for over six months, an absolute record for him. Instead, he had increased his morning run through Central Park to an evening one too, to use up his energy.
He also allowed his work to seep into this personal time: anything he needed to take home from the office was put onto a memory stick which got zipped into the back pocket of his running shorts. Then he'd run home to his luxury apartment overlooking Central Park.
“I can see I've given you food for thought,” Susan smiled. “I know you want to settle down.” She gave him a knowing smile and closed his office door with a backward kick of her pumps before she walked towards his desk. “But you don't need to sit and worry about it for a moment longer. I've taken the situation into my own hands.” She sat opposite him and leaned her elbows on his desk.
“I'm not going to like this am I?” he asked with a wide smile.
Susan liked to see him smile. Everything about him lit up, what was normally hidden behind his quiet, serious face. But when he smiled, his eyes were silver blue and sparkled. He wore his white blond hair neat and very short, highlighting his prominent regal jawline and further defining his cheekbones.
“Now, remember to keep an open mind about this, Yuri. Okay?” She put up both hands. “I've been in contact with Laura Madison of the—“
“Billionaire's Matchmaking Club?! Susan, are you serious? That place is for losers rich guys trying to get more lays than their money can get them.”
“I knew you'd be like this. But you're wrong; everyone in New York goes to Laura. She's the real deal. She knows who's legit and who isn't. Besides, she's looking forward to meeting you.”
“How can she be looking forward to meeting me? Susan, what have you done?”
“I think I may have already booked you an appointment with her tomorrow morning at 11.30.” Susan was trying to sound apologetic while trying to suppress a cheeky smile.
“I'll kill you,” Yuri said.
“Humor me. I already paid the initial chat fee plus, there’s a penalty fee for any cancellations.”
“I don't mind losing the money; I'm not going,” Yuri said, stubbornly.
“You don't have to go anywhere. She's coming here and it's too late to cancel.” Susan stood up quickly and ran for the door. “Got to go now – hot date awaits.” She closed the door after her and didn’t answer when Yuri called after her.
Yuri shook his head and began to switch off his computer. He got up and stretched, it was time for him to get home. In the en suite bathroom, Yuri changed into his running clothes. He tied up his shoelaces and turned on the music on his iPod. Placing the earphones snugly into his ears, he trotted to the stairwell, took the stairs two at a time and ran out into the street.
It was loud and busy. People were heading out somewhere nice, he thought. For most, it was payday and a lot of the bars would be full of people wanting to let off steam. Running was Yuri’s way of doing that. He turned the music a notch louder, lost himself in the pounding beat and began to run towards Central Park, completely ignoring everyone he ran by.
What Yuri couldn't ignore, the next morning, was Laura Madison's visit. She arrived promptly at 11.30 and brought a wave of Chanel No. 5 in with her as she swept into Yuri's office.
“Laura Madison,” she said, holding out her hand.
Her fingernails were pearl colored and long. Her hair extensions were long, to her waist, and she wore a pure white skirt suit that contrasted well with her brown skin.
“Laura, it's nice to meet you.” Yuri's smile was genuine. “Take a seat. But I'm afraid it's going to be a bit of a wasted journey for you.”
“Why, you met someone and have fallen in love already?”
“No.”
“You had a chance meeting and think you may have found the one?”
“No,” he said shaking his head.
“Did another matchmaker fix you up with the perfect girl before I got the chance?”
“No, Laura, nothing like that; I'm still single.”
“Well then, I haven't had a wasted journey.” Laura took a notebook out of her bag and clicked a silver ballpoint pen, looking up at Yuri. “So Yuri, why don't you start by telling me a little about your likes and dislikes.”
Yuri was dumbstruck, looking over at his open office door where he was sure he could sense Susan hovering behind it.
“Susan,” he called. She put her head around the door straight away. “Could you get us some coffee please and close the door tightly behind you, thanks.”
Yuri cleared his throat, feeling as if he was about to have the most uncomfortable conversation of his life.
Chapter3
“It's a perfect fit, Heather,” Janey said as they stood in the small bathroom after work one Thursday evening.
“You sure this isn't a bit too showy? A bit too low cut?” Heather asked staring at herself in the mirror in the dress she’d borrowed from Janey. It was only a mirror over a sink so it was hard to take in the detail and to get an idea of length.
“I would never lie to you,” Janey said. “I've never worn that dress be
cause I really don't fill it right, not the way you do. When the billionaire sees you, he'll go absolutely crazy.”
“Don't get too excited, Janey. The matchmaker said there'd be lots of other girls at the mixer. The billionaire has to pick me above all the others, meaning a lot of us will come home disappointed.”
“How does this work? If he doesn't pick you, do you get to go on another mixer or is it your only chance?”
“Laura Madison said she'd keep calling me back until I'd met the right guy.”
“So it's win-win,” Janey said clapping her hands together. “And, you can wear the same dress every time you go on a mixer. You keep it; the shoes too.”
“I couldn't.”
“Yes, you can and you will. Besides, the billionaire will replace it with a whole new wardrobe and maybe a whole new house to put it in. Just don't forget me, that's all.”
“As if I would.”
Janey's boyfriend had agreed to drop Heather at the restaurant for the mixer on their way to the movies. He was waiting outside the factory and smiled when he saw Heather.
“Doesn't she look like a million dollars?” Janey asked him.
“Sure does.”
He wound his way round the city streets to the Palladium Restaurant and Bar. The mixer was taking place in the top floor bar. Still self-conscious, Heather fiddled with her hair, in which Janey had pinned a silver slide that had tiny fake crystals embedded in it. The lights in the bar reflected onto the tiny crystals as Heather walked tentatively into the bar.
She heard voices, all female, and looked around. She was the only black face amongst a group of about twelve girls, all blond, all tiny and all with bosoms so large she was sure they would topple over. Heather thought she was in the wrong place, but the girl downstairs had definitely said the top floor bar.
Then Heather saw Laura Madison in a corner talking to the person Heather knew to be her assistant. She walked over to them.
“Hello, Heather,” Laura said brightly. “You look good.” Her eyes scanned up and down Heather's body. “You could have worn higher heels, but that's okay.”