by Carla Blake
Thwarted, Phil didn’t know what to say, but their colleagues sympathized and offering Kate a wet wipe, they pointed out the smudge on her forehead and laughed when Kate, pulling a suitably exasperated expression, turned on her heel and marched out again to get rid of the offending blemish.
“There.” Rachel continued, enjoying the look of annoyance on Phil’s face. “Happy now? Or would you like to see Kate’s ruined tights as well? “
Swiveling in her chair, Rachel eyed the pile of folders scattered across her lap and over her desk and smiled slyly to herself. Sorting through the accounts was a task she usually reserved for the end of each financial month, and usually with the aid of her computer, but today she was sorting through them by hand, giving herself the perfect opportunity to balance folders on her lap whilst surreptitiously keeping an eye on Phil.
So far, he had glanced her way a total of seven times. The first time catching her eye with such a look of loathing that for a while she’d wondered whether it had been Phil who had shoved the dog shit through her letter box and scrawled ‘dyke’ on her car, and not Simon. Except, Phil, she was absolutely certain, had no idea where she lived or what type of car she drove and he was also a lazy bastard, meaning that he very rarely ventured beyond the boundaries of the office in order to dish out his particular brand of bullying. Therefore it was highly unlikely that Phil had bothered to get up at the crack of dawn to carve obscene messages along her bonnet.
The green folder slipped off her lap and making a grab for it, Rachel ostentatiously rifled through the pages and then sighed heavily as she thumped the folder down on her desk, grabbed a sheet of paper and then irritably stormed out of the room to turn right down the corridor.
This was nothing she actually had to deal with and in truth she had nowhere to go, but after pushing through a set of double doors, down a shorter stretch of corridor and then round to the right again, she opened another door and found herself in the open plan office behind where Phil was sitting.
And sure enough he was watching her desk. A thoughtful expression on his face.
Eleven
“Why are we here again?” Rachel screamed above the crashing music. “Cos I can hardly hear myself think!”
“Yeah, I know!” Kate grinned at her. “ Great isn’t it? You can’t think, you can’t talk. You just get right into the music. Don’t you like it? I thought you’d love this place.”
“I do.” Rachel shouted back. “It’s just a bit noisy.”
The Pinwheel night club had been open for six months and by all accounts was doing rather nicely, particularly at the weekends. Tonight though was a Tuesday, and walking through the doors, expecting to find a mausoleum in which the music played half heartedly and three people propped up the bar, Rachel was surprised to find the club positively buzzing with club goers.
Tonight’s visit had also been Kate’s idea, who having heard on the grape vine that the rich and famous sometimes frequented the club’s exclusive VIP suite on a Tuesday, had used that as her basis for persuading Rachel to come. Except it didn’t seem as though anyone had told the rich and famous they were expected to be here, for after spending an hour of seeing no one they knew aside from each other, Rachel was beginning to think that Kate’s optimism for rubbing shoulders with the odd movie star or two, was rapidly dwindling from unlikely to totally pear shaped.
Kate was devastated and whilst Rachel picked at a beer mat and spent the next five minutes staring at a girl she vaguely recognized before remembering she was a cashier at their local supermarket, Kate sighed continuously..
“Pitiful isn’t it?” She yelled at last, leaning in close so Rachel could hear. “You’d think someone worth looking at would have shown.”
“Maybe they only come at weekends.” Rachel yelled back. “Or maybe they knew you were going to be here and didn’t want to be upstaged.”
“Oh, very funny!” Kate shouted. “But I wish we’d see someone, specially after all the hype. Still at least their playing decent music. Fancy a dance, babe? You up for that?”
Rachel was. Fed up with being jostled and nudged and having to duck beneath pints of beer swung over her head by morons leaving the bar, she swallowed the last of her wine and followed Kate onto the dance floor.
The music was fine and easy to dance to, but they were still awkward at first, all too aware of others around them kissing and touching and openly displaying their affection, whilst all they could do was look at each other meaningfully. “Anyone could be watching.” Rachel mouthed, when Kate got too close. “And I don’t want to get bloody slung out.”
“Fine.” Kate shot back, thinking it was anything but. She wanted to hold Rachel, to kiss her, to let the whole bloody world see how much she meant to her, but how could she? This was a straight nightclub and if they dared show their true feelings, they’d be out on their ears in an instant, no doubt with a barrage of unpleasant names ringing in their ears.
But then the music changed and with the opening bars to one of Kate’s favourites tracks thumping through the speakers, Kate muttered ‘ stuff it,’ and pulled Rachel to her, wrinkling her nose at Rachel’s silent protest and mouthing that she should chill. No one was watching them. No one cared.
Blushing, Rachel smiled back and raising her arms, crossed them over her head and looked up at the myriad of lights imbedded in the ceiling. They twinkled like stars and swaying in time to the music, she momentarily closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of Kate, unsurprised to find the shape of her girlfriend’s body and the cut of her hair was still clear inside her head, even though she could no longer see her. And when she opened her eyes again, it was to see Kate watching her, her mouth seductively open, her tongue flicking across red, painted lips that broke into a wicked smile as her fingers reached up and trailed through Rachel’s soft, brown hair.
Startled, Rachel’s eyes flashed a warning, but Kate ignored it and drawing her forward, softly caressed her shoulders. “It’s okay.” She mouthed for a second time. “No one cares.” And looking around Rachel saw she was right. No one did care. No one was watching, or pointing fingers or demanding to see the management. They were all too busy dancing to worry about what they were doing.
“So relax.” Kate smiled at her and pressing the palms of her hands to Rachel’s hips, guided her as Rachel writhed beneath her touch and slid Kate’s hands up to her waist, enjoying the waves of scented heat radiating from Kate’s body as Kate met her gaze and then stared seductively at her mouth. Licking her lips as she moved closer and closer until her mouth was only inches away and Rachel was certain she was going to kiss her. But then she breathed in four short gasps, her breath perfumed with wine and tobacco and Rachel, turned on beyond all reason, felt her legs go weak at the knees as Kate took hold of her hand and drawing her closer, brushed the faintest of kisses against her cheek as the heat from her body melded with Rachel’s.
Gradually, the crowd around them started to diminish, but they barely noticed. Instead, oblivious to the growing space around them or to the crowd, now drawing back to form a circle around the two girls in the middle of the dance floor, they moved to the music. Touching, their skin on fire, their eyes locked, their bodies now barely apart. Their mouths moving, closer and closer…
Kiss me! Rachel silently screamed at Kate. For God’s sake, I don’t care! Just kiss me !
Instead the song finished and like a bubble bursting they were suddenly aware that they were alone on the dance floor and that everyone else was watching.
Kate laughed, but Rachel, blushing bright red, immediately took a step backwards and wishing the floor would open up and swallow them, blushed redder still as the entire crowd suddenly broke out in spontaneous applause and someone dashed over with a glass of champagne.
Simon’s route took him right past The Pinwheel night club, but he didn’t pause to look in. The darkened windows and the sure knowledge that nothing of interest ever
went on in these places of a weeknight, keeping his gaze firmly on the road ahead.
Changing gear he eased his foot off the gas pedal and glanced in the rear view mirror. There was no real reason to slow down just yet, but in another couple of miles he would be in a residential areas and he wanted to be able to slow down to a crawl should the need arise. The police, it seemed, were everywhere these days and they picked on him often. Their attention initially pricked by the make of his car and then by the sight of someone under forty driving it. And they never believed it was his. At best, they thought it was his father’s or a company car, at worst that he’d stolen it, and he’d lost count of the number of times he’d had to fish around in the glove box for the relevant documents, irritating the police officers by keeping them waiting, but thankfully saving himself the trouble of being carted off to the cells on suspicion of theft.
It was still bloody annoying though. The assumption that just because he was young he shouldn’t be driving such a car. Why shouldn’t he? All because they were stuck in a dead end job…
Cutting the thought off, Simon signaled left, even though there was no one else on the road, and turned the corner, smiling wryly when he noticed the hidey-hole where the police usually holed up in was empty. Prats, he thought. What bloody good were they anyway? They hadn’t turned up when his apartment block had been broken into and where the fuck were they when people were being mugged on the streets? Sitting in soddin’ police cars drinking coffee, that’s where. Or handing out tickets to motorists and generally pissing off the population. It was amazing they didn’t get their heads kicked in more often.
The street was quiet and cruising to a halt in front of the house, Simon shut off the engine and then leant over the steering wheel to gaze up at the second floor. The curtains were drawn and the lights were off but it didn’t surprise him. The home owner liked their early nights. Beauty sleep was very important.
Opening the car door, he climbed out and dangled a key ring from his little finger. It didn’t matter that no one was up to greet him. He had a key. He knew the alarm code. He’d be as quiet as a little church mouse.
The flowers were waiting on her desk when Rachel arrived the following morning and she eyed them suspiciously, wondering what they might mean. So far it hadn’t been a particularly good day. Her head still throbbed from the night before and her feet felt like they’d been encased in cement and then squeezed. Even a text message from Kate, telling her how wonderful she was hadn’t helped much, mainly because she couldn’t fathom out how anyone could possibly find her attractive when her hair was everywhere, her breath stank and her reflection resembled Medusa’s.
Still the flowers were a nice touch and picking out the card, expecting to see Kate’s writing emblazoned across the envelope, Rachel was surprised to discover the envelope blank and the card inside not hand written at all, but printed. A neat line of italics requesting her company at lunch and stating that it was from Simon. He’d even added a PS, saying how truly sorry he was that he’d lost his temper, both with her and Polly, and that he hoped lunch would give him an opportunity to apologise. The addition of a single kiss, however, had no impact on her at all.
Kate was suitably scathing. “You’re not actually thinking of going, are you?” She asked, holding the card between thumb and forefinger as though it might be diseased. “I mean, I don’t get it? Why the ‘Mr. Nice Guy’ act all of a sudden? I thought it was revenge he was after, not a three course meal with a nice bottle of wine.”
“So did I.” Rachel agreed. “And believe me, I’m just as surprised as you.”
“But you’re still thinking of going?”
Rachel shrugged. “I should just put it in the bin and forget all about it.” She said. “ But I know that if I do that, Simon will just keep on and on until I change my mind.”
Kate sighed. “Well, it’s up to you babe, but if you’re going, then so am I.”
“Like hell you are!” Rachel snorted. “Christ, Kate, you know what Simon’s like! If he sees you with me he’s bound to put two and two together and then God knows what will happen and I really don’t want a scene in the middle of a restaurant. I’m sorry. I know you only want to help and I appreciate it, but I really don’t think it’s a good idea. It’s not as if I’ll be long. All I’m going to do is hear what he has to say and then leave. End of.”
“And all I’m going to do,” Kate said, dropping the card onto Rachel’s desk, “ is hide behind the nearest pot plant and eavesdrop.”
The restaurant Simon chose wasn’t one Rachel had been to before, and after stopping to ask directions from a local butcher, who wrote directions on the back of a paper bag soiled with dried blood, she eventually arrived fifteen minutes late.
Not that she had any reason to worry. The restaurant was small and practically empty, and after a quick look through the window to establish that Simon wasn’t already inside, she typed out a text message to Kate to give her directions and then added that she was still in the land of the living and that she shouldn’t bust a gut getting there.
Once inside, she chose a table near the window and sat down to wait.
Simon arrived ten minutes later. Looking smart in a dark grey suit and wiping his hands on a handkerchief. The apologetic expression on his face took Rachel a little longer to recognize. The smarmy smile he replaced it with didn’t.
“Hi.” He said, stuffing the handkerchief out of sight and dumping his car keys and mobile on the table. “Haven you been waiting long? Traffic was bloody dreadful! So. Have you ordered yet? Should I..?”
Rachel shook her head. “No, I haven’t and no you shouldn’t. Look Simon, I appreciate you asking me to lunch and the flowers were lovely, but I really don’t intend staying. I only came because you asked me to and because I thought I should listen to what you have to say, but after that, I’m leaving. Okay?”
Simon sat down and leant back in his chair. “No.” He said, the familiar sneer returning to his voice. “It’s not. You know your trouble Rachel? You’ve always been the same. Too quick to jump to conclusions. Too stupid to listen.”
Rachel got up. “Oh, really?” She hissed. “ Well in that case I won’t put you through that misery again! And you want to know the real reason why I came here today? It’s not because I thought I owed you anything, but because I knew that if I didn’t, you’d bombard me with messages and phone calls until I did, and the only stupid thing I’ve ever done in my life is agree to go out with you! You’re sick, Simon, you know that? Sick in the head and it doesn’t matter what you say or what you do anymore, it’s still over!”
“Fine. If that’s how you feel.” Simon said, standing up and grabbing her before she could escape. Roughly, he pushed her back into her seat and then leant over her. What did she think she was doing, he frowned, causing a scene like that. Did she want people to stare at her because he didn’t! She should just sit down and shut up and then maybe they would get somewhere. Because really! Over reacting like that. It was beneath her. Especially when he was only trying to help.
Staring at him, Rachel felt a thin trickle of coldness spiral down her spine. She knew that voice, that placating gesture. It was what Simon used in company, when he thought she’d done something to slight him and he didn’t want everyone else to know she’d pissed him off. But it wouldn’t last, it never did. Next would come the threats, then the tightening grip around her arm, digging in until she wanted to scream with the pain of it.
Eyes blazing, she twisted away from the pressure on her shoulder. “I don’t care!” She hissed. “And I don’t want your help. It’s over Simon. O-V-E-R! Get it into your thick head!”
“You think?” Simon frowned. “Well, we’ll see about that.”
“No Simon.” Rachel retorted, her speech quieter than she would have liked out of courtesy for the other diners. “We won’t!”
The couple at the next table still glanced over thou
gh, and Simon turned to smile at them, managing to convince them by his expression alone that he was simply trying to persuade an old friend to stay a little longer.
Rachel was having none of it. “I’m leaving!” She seethed, standing up and scrapping back her chair. “ And if you touch me again, I swear I will scream my fuckin’ head off.”
“Who’s going to scream?”
Rachel turned. Behind her and smelling of very expensive perfume, stood a tall, blonde woman immaculately dressed in a cream suit and cradling a designer handbag Rachel had last seen draped over the arm of Victoria Beckham.
Smiling sweetly at Simon, she pulled out a chair and asked him if he was going to introduce her?
Simon’s charm instantly returned. “ Wendy. This is Rachel, an old friend of mine. Rachel. I’d like you to meet, Wendy. My girlfriend.”
“Delighted.” Wendy said, offering her hand to shake. “Not too late for lunch am I?”
How Rachel got through her pate and soup she would never know, but Simon was the perfect host. He was attentive and funny, he fluffed out Wendy’s serviette and then got up to fetch wine for her and Rachel and bottled beer for himself. He laughed, he listened, he even pretended to take an interest in what Rachel had to say. Asking questions he already knew the answers to, but which to Wendy’s eyes must have made him appear the perfect gentleman.
Rachel could barely stand it, and staring out into the prematurely gloomy afternoon and at the cold drizzle tapping insistent fingers at the windows, she wondered how soon she could politely escape and where the hell Kate was? An hour she’d told her she’d be gone, but it had been twice that already and seeing as how Kate had hardly been ecstatic about her coming here in the first place, she couldn’t understand why she hadn’t yet sent out a rescue party, or at least pressed her hot, little face to the window in the hope of spotting her. But no. There was nothing. No sign of her standing in the drizzle. No phone call on her mobile phone and definitely no sign of her lurking behind the potted plants.