He stiffens up, waiting for me to take the wilting flowers, looking like a poor helpless puppy.
“They’re for you.” He moves them closer.
I take hold of the wet wrapper and rush behind the counter to try and save them.
“It’s an apology for last night. I was a dick and...” He puffs the rain out from his lips, strokes back his wet hair, and rummages through his inside pocket. “I did a bit of digging at work and printed you off some environmental stuff.”
I pause and stare. This is why he’s my best friend. He maybe a pain in the backside sometimes, and needs to be kept on a short leash, but his heart is in the right place. In the end, he always wins me over.
I take the damp paper and have a quick look. Some of the stuff in it should not be seen by the likes of me. How Westons plc paid someone off to reduce their co2 emissions in their Suffolk based firm. How not one of their factories has signed up to the environmental charter. This stuff could get him in big trouble.
“Nathan,” I grumble. “I can’t do this. It will get you fired.”
“You can, and you will.” He sits on the lone chrome stool. “They’ll never know it was me, thousands work for them, and hundreds under me.” He tries not to boast. “Look, they’ll never suspect me, so do your article and blow their socks off.”
I rush around the counter and grab his wet elbows, planting a kiss on his cheek. “Nathan... you’re my angel.”
Chapter 4
Elizabeth
I thought with it nearly being Christmas break, my lecturer might have forgotten all about that stupid banquet. But no such luck. Today she asked me again if my article was finished. I’ve not been able to bring myself to write it. For one, it will remind me of the fact Mr Knight gave me his personal number over a week ago, and I’ve not called him. And two, the only information I have was provided by Nathan, and when I do type down those first words, I’ll be plagued with guilt at what it will do to him, if word gets out he’s the companies snitch.
Wearing my blue plaid flannel pyjamas, I drop down onto my white frame bed under the lamplight. I get comfortable on my front, and flip the lid up on my laptop. It’s not the greatest piece of tech, and takes an age to boot up. It hasn’t worked correctly since Nathan did a system restore on it over a month ago.
At last the swirly circle has gone, and the screensaver of me and Cate holidaying in Rome pops up. I click on the explorer for additional ideas to research, and open a new document in word. My agenda, to use google and rephrase another article to death. You know, a bit a disguised plagiarism. It’s cheating, sure it is. But I never wanted to do this in the first place, and it’s not like this is going to be marked for my finals.
I tap onto my blank document. I need a title. Come on Liz, it’s got to be something catchy. I chew on my cheek, staring vacantly at my green lightshade. It’s in there, I know it is. I tap the keys and an epiphany hits me. The title - Our Manmade Destructive Industrial Age. I stare at the words. No, in fact, don’t look Liz. If you spend any longer critiquing this shit, you’ll be here all night. Just get it down as quickly as possible.
I unfold the papers Nathan gave me and read. Westons plc clearly don’t apply to the rules, but neither do many other powerful companies. If it saves Nathan, I shall use google to begin with.
I go back to the internet tab, pulling my thinking face. Oh great, he’s managed to get in there again, Mr Knight. My brains obviously been diseased by him.
Shake it off Liz. So what if you haven’t called. That’s what he wants. He needs you to feed his ego, that’s all. His very sexy-self is banking on it.
I watch the blinking cursor, and as fast as my fingers go, I enter his name, grimacing. I open one eye to the screen. His image is plastered there; photos taken by paparazzi. In some, he’s wearing the black hoodie he jogs in, and the others are more formal with women, and it makes me scatty. I scroll down a little. This is bordering on illegal Liz.
I come to the first official website, Knight’s Enterprises, and click. This web page is bizarre. Where’s his picture? I expected him to pop out at me as soon as I entered the page, but all I see is a vague description of his company with contact details. It’s not professional at all.
I come off the page and enter another. The NY financial times. It’s an article that takes up a quarter of the page, and it calls him new money. It goes on about investments and rising shares. All rather boring really.
I exit and click onto the next. The screen flashes and my eyes are hit by a pop-up for a dating site called: Feel & Fancy. I cross it quick and arrive on a website that is the equivalent to the OK magazine. He’s right there, a middle page spread dedicated to Mr Knight. A first and last exclusive. The only interview given in the space of his two year success.
There’s a black and white image of him leaning against a brick wall. His brilliant white shirt is loose around the collar, and his hands are in his pressed trouser pockets. He’s holding his head down, brooding. Jeez, he’s so tasty, and this is so very naughty. Hell’s fire, I’m burning up here.
My eyes skim from left to right. I know I’m alone, but shit I’m paranoid. What if there’s some secret way he will know I’m looking him up. I’m giving myself two minutes, just in-case there is some kind of tracking device in space picking up my signal. I’d say two minutes before I break the link, is a reasonable amount of time for me to remain anonymous.
I turn back to him with an unnerved flurry in my chest. He’s teasing me through cyberspace, and my god it’s working. I goggle with my mouth ajar.
Perhaps you should read now Liz, time is ticking.
So, he’s an orphan, raised by a foster family in Washington DC. Thankfully, a happy tale. He was brought up in a loving home with supportive parents, and had a cat called, Theo. He moved from his home and overseas to study, travelled the world, returned, and began to conquer it. He’s a private person, and this is the only interview he’s ever done. This pretty much wraps Mr Knight up in one. But I find it extremely hazy, because there’s just no in-depth detail. It’s not the greatest article. The only good thing about it is the picture that I can’t tear my eyes from.
I leap off my bed and open the drawer he’s been hiding in. I pull out the glossy black card which has his name printed in gold. It’s a flashy card. A card that says, I’m the best you’ll ever have. And looking at that picture of him on my laptop, I’m in total agreement.
I brush my thumb over his embossed name and sit on the edge of my mattress. It squeaks loudly and makes me jump. I tap the card on my hand and blow out the nerves. How has he invoked this inferno and these emotions in me? And this god awful need for something I haven’t needed in a long time?
So you’re either going to call and use your seductive intellect to lure him to you. Or put him back in the open drawer, Liz. You have until your chest erupts to decide.
I take my phone from my bedside table. I touch the keypad and twiddle the card. Okay, here goes. I look down at his name, and even that makes my gut churn. Very slowly, I type in his number. I hover my finger over the green bar, tap the screen, and screw up my eyes. It rings and rings, and with each tone I lose the ability to move.
The tone stops. Silence. Shit!
“Hello,” I utter.
‘This is the messaging service.’ Good god, no Liz, do not do it. ‘For Mr Knight, who is currently unavailable. Please leave your name and number after the tone.’
The tone sounds, and there’s a dreadful long hush. I don’t say a single word and end up juggling with my phone so it drops out of my hand, and lands on my bed.
“Crap!” I punch end call several times.
Balls. Now he might call me back. One-four-seven-one, Liz, did you not think of that?
I tell myself that if my stupid phone rings tonight, and it’s an unknown number, I will not answer. I’m going to deny all knowledge of my impulsive actions.
There’s a knock on my bedroom door and it opens. Cate pops her head inside, and in a mad
panic, I dive onto my bed and slam down the lid of my laptop, before she sees Mr Knight posing sexily on my duvet. I flush all shades of red and blow out loudly.
“Oh my god Liz!” she squeals. Oh great. Here we go. She saw him didn’t she. “Are you cyber-stalking Adrien Knight?”
I drink down the guilty knot in my throat. There’s just no getting out of this. I’m going to have to put a deadbolt on my bedroom door to stop her bursting in whenever she feels like it.
She smiles brazenly and picks up the card from my bed. Her eyes grow huge and with a gaping mouth she glares, waiting for me to spill the beans.
“Sweetheart.” She sits down on my bed. “Tell me all about it.”
Oh this is just fabulous. She has her big sister head on. She’s always been the same. Agony Aunt whether I need one or not. I sit up straight with a sigh. Maybe talking will help. Or not. Either way I have no choice.
“He gave you this?” She holds up the card.
“Yeah, last week,” I admit. “He came to see me at work. Was all mysterious, vanished, and left me this.” I snatch back the card.
“So, he’s got to you hasn’t he? And looking at the state of you, in a big way.” She puts her arm around my shoulders. “Maybe you should go and get him out of your system.”
What she’s implying is impossible for the likes of me. I’m no good in the art of seduction. If it were Cate, she’d be over there right now, launching herself at him with absolutely no shame at all. I’ve not had that kind of experience. Yes, I’ve had sex. But with one person, Nathan. And that turned out to be not so much a mistake, but a learning curve made by both of us years ago.
“You’re waiting for Mr Right, and these days’ men like that don’t exist Liz.” She squeezes me. “Have fun. Take a leaf out of Nathan’s book. Didn’t stop him after you two broke up.”
I smile awkwardly. I want rid of her, and the best way is to go along with what she says.
“I’m fine.” I sigh out, lifting up his card. “See.” I rip it up into pieces and drop it in the bin. “I was just being curious, that’s all.”
She squeezes my cheeks like my grandma used to do, then stands up from my bed.
“Well, there’s nothing wrong with looking Liz. Lighten up.” She goes to walk out into the hallway.
“Cate,” I call out. She turns to me and her dark blonde hair swishes over her shoulder. “Don’t mention this to Nathan.”
She smiles. “Mention what?”
IT’S 9A.M., SATURDAY morning. The bell above the door rings as I enter Aroma, and I’m faced with all the members of staff who work here. Harry and his wife, Ronda, Racheal, Dave, and Shell, all sitting down with coffee. Immediately, I become aware something bad is about to happen. We are never all together at the same time.
Harry is standing before everyone with several envelopes in his hand. They all watch as I cautiously take off my jacket. I frown, placing my bag over the back of the chair, wondering what the reason is for this gathering and icy atmosphere.
“Liz, can you sit down please,” Harry asks.
I squeeze by the two tables that have been placed together, and sit next to Shell. Her expression is sullen and confused. I drag a chair out from under the table, and when the scraping sound stops, Harry clears his throat.
“So...” He pauses as he fills his lungs. “I have called this staff meeting, and I’m glad you have all shown up.” He looks down with concern at Ronda. “It is with great regret that I have to inform you, that I’ve had no choice but to sell the shop.”
“What!” Dave barks, slamming his back in the chair.
Dave has worked here since leaving high school. Ten whole years. Each one of us relies on this job to make ends meet. And it’s been sold, without a single word to any of us.
Ronda begins to cry as Harry rubs her back. He chokes up, finding it hard to continue.
“What can I say?” His eyes well-up with upset. “Circumstances have changed, and Ronda and I have thought about this long and hard.” He places the envelopes on the table. “There is good news though. The shop will be refurbished, and will still need staff.” He shrugs his shoulders, emotionally. “If you show commitment, your jobs will remain safe under the Beans Brand.”
This place has become a second home to me. It’s second nature to work here. Even though it’s not my dream job, this is still distressing.
“This is bullshit Harry. I’ve worked my arse off for years for this place.” Dave shoots up and snatches up his envelope. “I won’t work for a chain, you know that.”
I purse my lips because I feel the same way, but I decide to keep it to myself.
Harry lowers his head. “Guys, I’m sorry, but like I’ve said, my circumstances have changed.”
“Well, now all of our circumstances have, haven’t they?” Dave charges through the shop and leaves.
I glance around the table. Racheal doesn’t seem too bothered. She bites her thumbnail, not paying attention. And Shell, well, she has her hands into everything; three part-time jobs she works. So I guess losing one isn’t such a big deal to her. Me on the other hand, I’m not sure what I’m going to do without this place.
I look at Harry. He stares at me, waiting for me to speak out, but I can’t. In an emotional silence, I rise up from the chair, take my envelope, and go behind the counter to wait for customer one.
Harry kisses Ronda goodbye at the door. He then walks toward me with his grey brow low. I don’t understand, this place is their nest egg. Another ten years, then maybe they could have sold to retire.
“I’m sorry Liz.” He leans against the counter. “It’s been a difficult decision.” His eyes begin to water.
I hate men crying. I can’t cope with it. Men only cry when there’s no light at the end of the tunnel. I pull out a napkin from the stack below the counter.
“Harry, here.” I pass it to him. “Things will work out.”
I don’t know why I said that. I want to ask him what the hell am I supposed to do now; how do I pay my rent? But Harry has been good to me, and I’m not as forward as Dave.
I’VE WORKED UNDER A big dark cloud all morning. Smiling and being polite hasn’t lifted my spirits. To know I only have two more shifts working here is soul-destroying. So what, most would say. It’s just a coffee shop job and there are hundreds more out there. But I bet none are like this place. I fit in well here.
I’ve just finished serving my last customer of the day as Racheal gets ready to take over. As I put on my jacket Nathan swaggers through the door, removing his grey scarf. I sigh out, altering my collar.
“Liz?” He notes my sombreness.
I silently close the hatch, and with my head down make my way out onto the street. I didn’t want to cry in the shop, and knew the moment he asked me what was wrong, I’d end up blubbering in there.
I hear Nathan’s breathing at my back as he catches up with me.
“Liz.” He takes my hand to stop me in my tracks. “What’s up?” His eyes crinkle with concern.
“I have no job, as from next week.” I let out a tear.
It’s knocked me in a big way, like the end of an era. Even though it’s a messy job and I often smell like a sweaty old man when I’ve finished my shift, it’s my own bit of independence in this big city. It’s daunting to think I’ve got to start over again.
Nathan takes me in his arms and I need it. I need to feel the comfort of a man’s touch.
He draws away from my body in alarm. “Stop it Liz.”
He knows. He probably sensed it from the way I ran my hand over his neck in a needy way. I didn’t mean to. Right now, I’m feeling as puzzled as a monkey with a knife and fork.
“You’re better than that place anyway.” He sweeps his thumb over my wet cheek. “It was a stepping stone, that’s all. Something on your way up.” I look down at the icy pavement. “Tonight I’m taking you out,” he says matter of fact, softly pushing up my chin.
I’m in no mood to be painting the town red. “No Nathan
... I can’t.”
“Yes, and you can’t refuse,” he insists. “Remember the good old days.” He smiles cheekily.
I chuckle. “Not very much.”
“There it is.” He brushes his fingers over my cheekbone, smiling tenderly. “Well, we are going out. We’ll drink the bar dry, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll treat you to a kebab smothered in garlic sauce on our way home.” He pecks my forehead. “Now you know you can’t refuse that.”
Chapter 5
Elizabeth
“I can’t believe I’ve got to work,” Cate sulks, jangling the keys for Beryl on her finger.
She hates missing out on anything. Especially if it involves booze, men, and music.
“Is your hair okay?” she asks.
I let her free on my locks tonight. Otherwise I would be going out like I was, reeking of coffee with greasy hair. This time I gave specific orders, loose curls and no backcombing whatsoever. And the mood I’m in, she complied.
“Yeah,” I sigh, holding up the scanty dress she’s loaned me to wear.
“There’s just no pleasing some folk,” she witters in jealousy, opening the latch on the front door. “Liz,” she calls out. “You go out and get laid. You deserve it.” My eyes revolve as she leaves.
I step into the dress. It’s a black tight number that clings to every nook and cranny. I pull the straps up over my shoulders and brush down my hips, trying to add a bit of length. If I can just get it an inch further down my thighs, I’ll be satisfied.
I look in the mirror and turn sideways, sucking in my belly. I’ll do I suppose. I’m only going out with Nathan. He’ll probably just take me to Finley’s again, and serenade me on the karaoke all night.
I pull on my biker boots. Yes, that’s right, my comfy knee-length black leather fur-lined boots, which I have no difficulty walking in, then I spray some Hugo Red on my black jacket to rid the smell of work. I scrutinise myself for a moment, uncertain of my appearance. I look like I’m about to hit a rock concert. Oh, screw it.
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