Jersey Girl

by J A Heron

  “What time do you finish work?” he says as he reaches me.

  “Why do you want to know?” I’m defensive, but I have no idea why.

  “Maybe I want to spend some time with you, so I’ll ask again. What time do you finish work?” I’m dumbfounded; he wants to spend time with me. Mousey me, worthless me, no hope of being anything me. Surely not. I’m sure he’s taking the piss. I’m silent for a few seconds. He’s shifting from foot to foot and he grits his teeth, the muscles in his cheeks tensing. He looks at his watch.

  “Seven,” I say, and I somehow feel the need to elaborate. “The evening staff come in then. They take over from me.”

  Did I really need to tell him all that? He looks at his watch again.

  “I will be back in three hours then,” he says, walking towards the door.

  He won’t be back; I’m willing to bet money on it. He’ll realise I’m not worth his time and stand me up. The door closes behind him and the bar is plunged into muted darkness yet again. I get the feeling I won’t see him again – ever. Still, there is this little glimmer of hope. Maybe he will. This is going to be the longest three hours of my life. I am determined not to build my hopes up. When hopes are raised and things don’t go as you expect them to, that’s when the hope is suddenly ripped from you. It explodes into a billion pieces and there’s nothing left but a feeling of complete and utter misery.

  More news on repeat, more glass polishing, and another pint of beer served to Fred. So, two hours later, I realise there is only one hour to go before I’m stood up by the gorgeous dude with all the tats. The door surges open, blasting me with a burst of chilly air.

  “Ask me who’s the best friend in the whole freaking world?”

  “Who’s the best friend in the world?” I look up from the newspaper Fred gave me after he’d finished reading it.

  “Me, that’s who.” Benny has been shopping. Well, she’s laden with half a dozen shopping bags. Either that, or she’s turned into a designer bag lady. Gucci, Prada et cetera bags are draped over the crook of her elbow.

  “I couldn’t resist a little shopping spree. I’ve been so down lately. This is just what I needed to cheer me up.”

  It would take a lot more than retail therapy to help me.

  “So, why are you the best friend in the entire world?” I ask. I wish she’d get on with it. I must get back to reading the newspaper and pretending I’m not bothered if Mr Vin Willis decides he’s made a huge mistake.

  “Because, my gloomy and cheerless friend, I have bought you these.” She whips something out of one of her shopping bags so fast I almost get whiplash. “These, my darling friend, are the latest designer jeans that make your ass look good enough to eat.”

  I think the look on my face is priceless. I’m certain it shows disgust.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “No. Look at them. Aren’t they beautiful? These are the best things ever. Beyoncé has them. Rihanna has them. All the major A-list stars have them, babe. I’ve got a pair too, see?” She pulls another pair of jeans out of the same bag. The excitement in her voice is so adorable.

  “How much were these?” I ask as she throws a pair in my size over the bar at me. I look down at the dark blue denim in my hands; they’re skinny fit and the right leg length. They look amazing.

  “Three hundred quid.” I gasp. “Each.”

  Holy shit.

  “I can’t accept these. You’ll have to take them back.”

  “No way. They’re my treat. They really work too. I promise that your ass will look like a million pounds in them.” She has puppy dog eyes. I’m speechless.

  “Okay.”

  She jumps up and down with joy. I would never be able to afford to buy clothes like these. Even if I could, I don’t think I would. I’ve never had money, so I don’t know how I would spend it if I did. If I was rich, I think I’d be in and out of rehab every other month. My taste for rum would certainly get me in trouble. I spend money on that stuff enough as it is, and my liver would certainly be pickled to within an inch of its life. In my mind's eye, I can see my damaged liver in a glass jar filled with clear liquid; it’s in a science lab where people study it to warn of the dangers of drinking too heavily. I smile at my own ridiculous thoughts.

  “Why are you so cheery today?”

  Oh, hell. Now I’m going to get it. Do I really have to tell her what happened today?

  I fold up the jeans in my hand. “Remember the sexy guy from last night? He was in here. He called you shorty.”

  The look of distaste on her face says she remembers him. “Yeah, I remember him. What an a-hole.”

  “Well, he’ll be here in about…” I glance at the clock behind the bar. “…twenty minutes. He came by, spoke to Fred, and then said he wants to spend some time with me. But don’t worry, I’m ninety-nine point nine percent sure he will stand me up.”

  “What makes you say that, and…” Benny holds up her hand to halt my mouth spouting all kinds of crap, “…don’t say that you’re ordinary, mousey, and a loser. You’re none of those things. You’re just stuck in a rut, that’s all.” Her kind words are sweet, but we both know they’re a crock of shit. “You have a lot going for you. If you just applied yourself, you could achieve anything.” She’s about to say more, but I cut her off. I refuse to listen to her telling me things she thinks I need to hear. We both know that none of it is true.

  “I call bullshit.” I can’t help laughing, and Benny laughs with me. There are worse things that could happen in a girl's life. Being stood up is not the end of the world.

  I knew he wouldn’t come.

  I tie my scarf around my neck, slip on my gloves, and then wrap my jacket around me. The winter freeze is almost upon us and it’s hard to ignore the biting cold as I walk out of the bar. I sling my handbag over my shoulder; it’s got those bloody jeans in it, along with all my personal shit. I realise I’m smiling, which is strange considering I’ve been stood up. But the fact that I own a pair of expensive jeans, bought by my crazy friend, has me feeling quite happy. But Christ, they cost a lot of money. I feel guilty; I never buy Benny anything like that. The occasional bar of chocolate, a drink at the bar on one of our many nights out... stuff like that is all I can afford. I will never be in a position to buy her something so expensive.

  Her parents are loaded; they paid for the apartment we live in. It was bought outright. The only things we pay for are the bills and food. I help with all that stuff, even though Benny is in a well-paid job. I would never expect her to pay for everything.

  I find myself thinking about the mystery stranger as I walk home, ‘I want to spend some time with you,’ he’d said. I think he’s full of crap. I contemplate punching him on the nose if I ever see him again – which is doubtful.

  Benny decided to go home ahead of me. She wanted to drop off her bags then call at the local supermarket for something for dinner. I told her not to hang around as I knew that guy wouldn’t show up.

  As I approach the steps to my front door, I spot someone just sitting there. I squint, trying hard to see who it is. Male or female? I don’t know. I slow my pace, walking gingerly. And then I realise who it is. What the fuck is she doing here? As I approach, she’s got her head down, looking at the floor. She hears my footsteps getting closer and lifts her head. Her eyes meet mine and her shoulders sag. She seems lost and has a look of sorrow on her face.

  “What do you want?” My tone is hard, thoughtless, and cold.

  “I need to talk to you,” she says with a lump in her throat. I can see her trying hard to swallow that golf ball that’s stuck in her throat.

  “I don’t have anything to say to you. Please leave me alone.” I walk up the steps to my apartment then step over the woman who screwed me over. I open the front door and walk inside. I’m sure that when I slam the door so hard it almost comes off its hinges, it also shows her just how much I’m still holding a grudge.

  The apartment is in darkness, so I switch on a small tabl
e lamp. Too much light in the room would certainly piss me off. I need muted light and warmth, so I switch on the central heating and make a cup of coffee. I hear a knock on the door.

  “Fuck off!” I shout. I know she can hear me. I think she got the message because I spend the next twenty minutes enjoying a cup of coffee and two chocolate biscuits in silence. Benny still hasn’t come home yet, and I spot her shopping bags flung haphazardly on the floor by the kitchen island. I can’t wait for her to come home; I’m starving.

  Obviously, the message wasn’t clear enough. Three more knocks on the door echo through the apartment.

  “For fuck's sake, fuck off!” I scream louder this time. The knocks come again. I run towards the door in temper, then I pull it open hard and fast. When it hits the wall, a small piece of plaster falls away and drops to the floor. My nemesis is no longer there, but in her place is the good-looking bastard from the bar. I look left, then right, scanning the street for the woman who pissed me off so many years ago. There’s no sign of her anywhere. I turn my attention back to him standing in front of me. “How did you know where to find me?”

  “Rob told me.”

  I look at him, confused. “Rob? Oh, you mean Mr Grumpy.” I’m going to kill my boss for giving out my address to a stranger.

  “Yeah. I’m sorry I’m late. Better late than never though, right?” He sounds sincere and there’s a cheeky grin on his face. We stand looking at each other for what seems like a thousand years. “Are you going to invite me in?”

  It’s freezing, the wind is picking up, and it’s dark out. I’m shivering as I stand on the doorstep.

  “I don’t know you. You could be a murderer or a rapist,” I say, wrapping my chunky cardigan around me.

  “I’m neither of those things,” he says with a smile. I get to see his teeth fully this time. They’re straight, apart from one of his canines; it’s a little crooked.

  “I don’t even know your name.”

  “Connor,” he says, reaching out his hand for me to shake. “You’re Kat, right?” I nod. “So, now we’re introduced.” I nod again.

  “My roommate will be home soon,” I say as a warning. If he tries anything funny then Benny will be able to call the cops. But, he seems a genuine guy, so I step aside to let him in. “Okay. Come on in.” He walks into the lounge and takes off his hat, revealing that glorious bald head. Next, his gloves and scarf are gone. I watch with my mouth hanging open as he takes off his coat. He’s wearing a cable knit jumper in a dark charcoal; it clings to his strong, muscular physique. He’s wearing jeans that fit his chunky thighs like a second skin. “Coffee?” I ask, finally finding my voice.

  “I’d love some, thanks. Two sugars, please.” I walk into the kitchen, leaving him to look around Benny’s place. I hope he doesn’t think I have money, that I’m something I’m not.

  I’ve refilled my mug and I hand the second to Connor. As I look at him, I’m reminded how stunning his facial features are. They’re as glorious as ever, and his tall, powerful build is mouth-watering. I sit in the armchair; he’s sitting on the sofa. Distance is good. I’m starting to warm up again after standing at the door. I think it’s more to do with the company I’m keeping rather than the heating blaring away.

  I’m not much of a talker, so I’m trying to come up with something to talk about. Connor saves me, but his question is one I don’t want to answer. “Who was the woman at the door?”

  “Jehovah’s Witness,” I lie. “I soon told her where to go. I’m an atheist. I don’t want to listen to her ramble on about her imaginary friend.” My reference to God, or any God for that matter, has not been a part of my life since my parents died.

  “I see.” He doesn’t believe me. She wasn’t dressed in the attire the Witnesses usually dress in; she looked scruffy and bedraggled. Last time I saw her, she was dressed in designer clothes and was going to the Caribbean for two weeks. She didn’t even give me the time of day. I’m unable to stop myself from wondering what has happened to her in the last few years. “So, is this your place?” he asks, breaking me out of my thoughts.

  “No. Oh, God, no. This is Benny’s place.”

  “You have a boyfriend?” His eyes fall to the mug he’s holding tightly in his hands. Whenever I mention Benny, people always assume she’s a guy.

  “Benny is my female friend. You met her at the bar. Her name is Bernadette. Her brother could never say Bernadette, he came out with Benny, and it’s stayed with her forever.” I can’t help a little giggle that escapes my lips. “It’s a common misconception.”

  “Well, now I feel like an idiot. I thought you may already have a man in your life.”

  “No, there’s no one special. Why would you think that anyway?”

  “Because you’re stunning.”

  I think my mouth just hit the rug at my feet, and my cheeks burst into a sudden glow; I can feel the heat rising.

  “Thank you.” I’ve never handled compliments well. I want to tell him that I think he’s gorgeous, but I hold my tongue. I don’t want him to think that I feel the need to return his compliment. He must know I like him. I’ve been staring at him enough. I’m doing it now. “Where are you from? I’ve not seen you around here before. What brings you to Jersey?” I’m aware that I’m over inquisitive, but something is telling me to divert his questions. I hate being at the centre of conversations. Besides, I find him fascinating and I need to know more about him.

  “I lived here for a while, but I live in London now.” I’ve not picked up on an accent. I don’t know how old he is. I don’t want to ask; it may appear rude.

  “You lived here with Fred?” I ask. He nods, taking a sip of his coffee.

  “I thought he’d be your uncle or maybe a grandfather. When I saw you talking to him, I knew he had to be a relation.”

  “Yeah. I’ve not seen him for years. How’d you guess he was a relation?”

  “Just the way he smiled at you. Fred never smiles, but it looked like his face was going to split in two when he saw you.” We both laugh. His throaty laugh is deep, just like his voice.

  It’s impossible to ignore that I’m sexually attracted to him. Who wouldn’t be? The guy is seriously hot, well-spoken, and polite. Even with all his tattoos, I’d have no problem taking him home to meet my parents. But they’re dead, so I guess it’s a moot point.

  “Are you from Jersey?” he asks.

  I nod. “I’ve lived here for a while now, and I love this place. I always have.”

  Jersey is a tiny island in the British Isles. It’s closer to France than England, but it’s part of Britain. We have amazing summers here, but the winters are extremely harsh. The population of this tiny island is roughly one hundred thousand people, and we have many tourists who visit every year. I live in St. Helier, the capital, close to the marina. It’s very quiet this time of year, but in the summer months, this little place comes alive with visitors. The bar I work in gets a hell of a lot busier too. “I would never leave. It’s just too pretty here.”

  “I agree,” he says. “Like I said, it’s been a few years since I’ve been here, and I quickly forgot how easy it is to fall in love with this place. I usually like to come during the summer. You’re right; it is pretty.”

  “You should come back. Make us the destination for your yearly holiday. We’d welcome you here anytime.” I think I should apply for a job with the local tourist board; I could sell our little island to holiday makers. “There’s all sorts going on. Loads of things to do.”

  “I think paying another visit to Jersey is definitely on the cards.” He smirks at me. I get the feeling I’m being mocked. I’m not entirely sure, but just the way he’s looking at me says he’s in on some inside joke, something I’m not aware of.

  “How long are you staying for?” I ask. I need to change the direction of this conversation.

  “I’m not sure yet. It depends how long I can stay away from work.”

  We’ve both drained our mugs. “More coffee?” I ask.
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br />   “I should really get going.” I feel a twang of disappointment in my tummy. The rational side of my brain is telling me it’s probably for the best. The last thing I need is to get involved with someone who’s not going to stick around, but my alter ego is wailing and stomping her feet like a two-year-old.

  “Okay,” I say, trying hard to keep the disappointment out of my voice, but failing miserably.

  “Can I see you again?” My alter ego is dancing the Irish jig.

  “Sure. I don’t have to work tomorrow. Just come by sometime. Anytime is fine, or not. That’s fine too.”

  “I will stop by tomorrow. I don’t know what time it will be, so I’ll surprise you.”

  “I love surprises.”

  I walk him to the door. Before I open it, he looks at me, his sparkly blue eyes shining brightly at me. They really are pretty; prettier than any sunset. He leans down to kiss my cheek. “Great to meet you, Kat.”

  “You too,” I say, blushing crazily. I open the door, and we’re almost knocked over by Benny running in. She stops in her tracks when she notices my visitor.

  “Hey, shorty,” he says to Benny. “See you tomorrow, Jersey Girl.” He winks at me before walking down the steps. Calling me that has caused a flutter in my chest, and I’m sorry to see him walk away. I close the door, blocking out the freezing temperature, and prepare to be assaulted with questions.

  “What the hell was he doing here?” Benny barks out. “Did you guys do it on my couch?”

  “Don’t be disgusting, I’m not you!” I shout back. It was a mistake saying that; she glares at me. The evils this girl is shooting in my direction could wither a brick wall. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that.”