Authors: Leeann Whitaker
I bite my cheek and press send.
Good god, I have just basically just said ‘screw you Mr Knight.’
My phone beeps again.
7pm on the dot Miss Lovell. You’ll be ready. Sleep well Elizabeth.
I chuckle and put my phone down before I send any further silly messages.
“Liz, there’s another one,” Cate yells, as I shovel a heap of coco-pops into my mouth.
I drop my spoon and dash to the door in my grey check flannel PJs, swallowing my breakfast fast. Cate barges by me, her pupils roll then vanish beneath her lids. I take the long stem single red rose from the courier, and close the door with my heart turning all mushy. I sniff it as I swan leisurely to the vase, where three other long stem roses stand, still fresh as the day they were delivered. I take one final lungful of the floral scent, and slip it into the water.
“He’s a penny pincher,” Cate grumbles, as I touch and admire the soft petals. “All that money, you’d think he’d splash out and get you a dozen.”
She’s jealous, I can tell. She always goes all negative. So I just hum at her with a cheery unbothered grin.
“You coming out tonight then?” She asks.
“I don’t know. It’s always too crazy for me on mad Thursday.”
My plan is to avoid it at all cost. Its student night, the last day of uni before Christmas break, and there’s always drunken trouble. All I want to do is come home, have a hot bath, pamper myself, and put my feet up, ready for Saturday.
“You’re coming, like it or not,” Cate stresses. “Been ages since we’ve been out together.”
“I don’t feel like going out,” I say, adamantly, even though I know exactly how this conversation will end. She won’t give up until she gets her way.
She blows out with her knickers in a twist, and marches right up to me. “You have to. We do this every year and you’re not going to let me down now,” she orders. “Look at this.” She turns me to the mirror above the phone stand. “You’ve gone all soppy.” She flicks my hair. “Do you think that Mr perfect is not having a good time in Birmingham? Bet he’s been sticking all his five pound notes down the g-sting of every lap dancer in the city.”
Great, now I have the mental image of Adrien with some slut on his knee, the place only I should be. I’m now completely livid for some messed up reason. Jeez, I really do need to wake up. I have turned soppy.
“Thank you for that, Cate.” I move away from my reflection, feeling all deflated.
“Well its true… it’s what men like him do, Liz,” she says. “So, I’m finishing at five, meet me at Finley’s, and I’ll have two margaritas waiting,” she chirps as she leaves for work.
Great. Finley’s. It will be full of popped up kids, prancing around to gimmicky Christmas tunes. Fabulous.
***
I sat in class all afternoon with my head in the clouds. Everything my lecturer said went in one ear, and out of the other. I only managed to jot down one sentence. Details on a five thousand word dissertation I have to complete over the holidays, on twentieth century slavery.
I received a total of sixteen text messages from Cate. Each one the same
:
5 o’clock,be there x
x
. So now, like a fool, I’m outside Finley’s in the freezing cold, watching as more and more people go through the door.
I spot Cate through the window. She’s sat at the bar with what she promised, two margaritas, madly waving me in with a silly Santa hat on her head.
I haven’t made any effort. I’m still wearing my grey jeans and boots, with my hair in a messy bun. Mad Thursdays aren’t for dressing up to the nines. What’s the point when the beer and drunks are flying everywhere? No, everyone usually just rolls out of work, and straight into the nearest pub.
“Finally,” Cate says. “Thought for a moment there, I’d have to call Pete,” she jokes, handing me my salt rimmed glass.
“You haven’t given me the choice,” I gripe.
“Oh come on… It’s Christmas, student discount, and we’ll have fun like always.” She raises her glass. “Down in one.” She tips the margarita into her mouth, gulps it down, and sucks air through her teeth. “Your turn.” She wipes her lip.
In a sulk, I follow her lead. “God!” I gasp. “If I’m ill tomorrow, you’re going to owe me.” I force out a smile.
“At a girl.”
There’s hardly enough room to stand. The place is full. So packed, the windows are steamed up from top to bottom. I’m on my forth margarita, and the jingles being blasted that I usually hate, are making me itch to dance. I’m actually beginning to get that let-loose feeling.
Cate springs up, and starts dragging me toward the dance floor as the song Last Christmas pummels my ears. God. Why am I doing this?
Pete for once, I’m glad to see. Just as I’m about to step onto the black and white chock-a-block dance floor, he grabs Cate’s waist. So I make a hasty retreat, back to the bar before I make a show of myself. I can leave now. I’ll drink up, make my way home, and do what I planned originally.
I turn and lean on the bar, when someone touches my mid-back. I look over my shoulder. Oh great. It’s Nathan. I should have known I’d end up bumping into him tonight. He knows our routine, he’s been on it several times with Cate and me. Tonight he’s with his rowdy work buddies. All with loosened ties, and turned up sleeves. I swig the last drop of margarita from my glass, and pick up my bag.
“Liz.” He takes my arm. “Don’t go because of me.”
Please don’t do that with your eyes Nathan. I’m not the one who caused this
. I inhale and step to the side.
“Okay, you’ve convinced me,” he says, still with that sad puppy expression.
“Of what?”
“I’m in the wrong, and I’ve been a first-class dick,” he shouts over George Michael. “Please, have one drink with me, for Christmas.”
Say no Liz. This cannot happen. Too late, he’s ordering you wine. Wine for crying out loud.
“No Nathan,” I bark.
“Here, get it down your neck.” He hands me the glass, and idiotically, I down it in one go.
“Another?” He smirks, waving his cash at the bartender.
I shake some sense into my tipsy head. I need a break from the awful music and Nathan. I need to freshen up before I fall over. I make the usual excuse of needing to powder my nose and climb the iron staircase, fighting my way through the drunks.
I rinse my face over the sink as girls enter, tottering around in their heels, sharing cubicles, and generally talking crap. I’m not paralytic, yet, but feeling it more on my empty stomach. I dry cheeks with a paper towel, and take a breath.
As I make my way out onto the landing, I feel my phone vibrating in my bag. I quickly take it out, and see Adrien’s name flashing. My head spins at the thought of hearing his smooth voice. I’m not in the greatest place to answer, but it’s better than downstairs I suppose. I can’t leave him hanging can I?
“Adrien,” I smile.
“Elizabeth, you got my flowers?” He asks, as I put my hand over my right ear to drown out the dreadful music.
“Yes, thank you… it was very sweet.”
The door to the side of me opens. A ginger haired guy falls out, tucking in his shirt. He’s a uni student, who clearly cannot hold his beer. He glares at me and winks, while licking his lips.
“Well.” He staggers to me. “You’re very nice… sweetheart.”
“Who is that?” Adrien asks, as I try to dodge the guy so he doesn’t touch me.
“Hold on a sec, Adrien.” I bring down my phone.
“Piss-off.” I push away the drunkard. “Come near me again and I’ll smack you in the face.” I warn, lifting the phone back to my ear.
“Elizabeth… where are you?” Adrien shouts as I keep my eye on the pervert hovering.
“I’m fine, Adrien.”
“Where are you?” He demands.
I eyeball the drunk as he slowly descends the stairs, giving me one final dirty ogle.
“I’m fine… he’s gone,” I breathe out.
“Elizabeth, you shouldn’t be out if you can’t look after yourself,” he says. “Have you been taking your tonic… are you drinking?” What a ridiculous thing to ask me. “Well?” I move across to the other wall so people can get by me.
“If… I… said… no,” I stretch my words, seductively. “What would you do, Adrien?”
“Elizabeth?” He bites.
“Look, I’m not best pleased with this conversation, Mr Knight,” I toy. “Why don’t you tell me what you will do to me on Saturday? That’s a much more pleasing dialogue to participate in.”
“Not a good time to joke with me, Elizabeth.” Oh, he’s getting a little frosty with me. “Where are you? I will come and pick you up.”
I wait for a moment. Should, or shouldn’t I tell him? Do I really want to be told what to do by the most beautiful man on the planet? If I do, it’s giving him the right to control me. My mum raised me well in that department. Mind, she hasn’t managed to take her own advice in her forty-five years on earth.
“Elizabeth!”
“Err…Ad…Adrien,” I stutter. “You…are br…breaking up.” I pull the phone away from my ear as I giggle. “See… you… on Saturday.” I hang-up in triumph.
Pat on the back for me. I have resisted the temptation. I have just figured out that I have the willpower of a beast, and I am actually chuffed with myself.
I return to my drink, and of course Nathan. He sees his friends off, as a rare vacant table full of half-full glasses becomes available. I rise up on my toes, looking for Cate. Every time this happens. I should have known. She’s up there now, all over Pete. Great.
Nathan turns, resting against the bar. “It was bound to happen,” he says. “Its destiny when she’s out, the freak will follow.”
“Yeah, leaving me playing gooseberry, yet again.”
“I’m here.”
“Sure you are.” I now require more wine to get me through this, so I gesture the bartender. “Chardonnay please.”
“How’s it going with Mr Prick anyhow? Not heard a thing from Sara.” I glare at him. “Sorry, you know what I’m like with nicknames… it’s stuck.”
“I don’t want to talk to you right now, Nathan. I might do something regrettable.” I put my money on the bar, and pick up my glass.
“Fine,” he sighs. “Look, I’m going to go sit right over there with my friends,” he points. “You’re more than welcome to join us.” My eyes widen-
like that’s going to happen
.
“Before you go sit with your friends, you can give me a cigarette.” I wave my fingers, insistently. “I know you have a pack on you somewhere.”
He hesitates, then rummages in his inside jacket pocket, taking out a twenty pack. I snatch it from him, and pull out an appealing ciggy.
“Light.” I hold out my hand.
He nods, slamming a green clipper in my hand before going to join his friends, shaking his head at me, judgmentally.
***
It’s cold, ice-cold. But the thought of inhaling this deadly smoke, is all I care about right now. I hold the butt between my lips and move away from the door. I flick the clipper, and like magic the tobacco flames orange. I draw slow and inhale. Wow the hit. That’s what I miss. That instant calming buzz. I cross my arms and walk by the pulsing windows, enjoying every single drag.
I start to feel a little dizzy, due to the nicotine rush. My own fault for draining the cigarette soggy. I toss it in the gutter. I’ve had enough, so turn to make my way back inside.
“SHIT!”
I’m grabbed suddenly, and hauled violently backward down the dark side street. My vision. Fuck. Everything’s gone fuzzy. I make a croaky attempt to yell, but it’s stopped by a hand pressed hard over my mouth.
“Remember me?” It’s the dirty pervert from upstairs, he’s right in my face. “Yeah… well sweetheart, I’m all yours.” I kick his shin hard, as he clamps my arms against a brick wall. “Bitch… you little bitch… you will pay for that!” His spit is on my face dammit.
My heart drums as adrenalin rushes around my body. I’m more than scared. But I’m sure as hell not going to let this perverted fuck near me, without causing some damage to him. I kick and kick hard at his legs. He yowls his foul breath in my face, and tosses me onto the wet floor. I crawl back using my hands and feet, grazing my palms on the cracked tarmac. He grasps my scruff, and jerks me up to his filthy face.
“I’m going to show you a real man bitch… I’m going to bang your bones so hard you’ll scream.”
He moves close to kiss me. I spit in his face, then cry out for help. He punches me hard and the force jars my neck back.
Headlights suddenly beam, shining over his shoulder to blind me. Abruptly, I find myself on the ground, and my attacker up against the wall, receiving a beating. I focus my hazy vision, holding my cheek, and wobble up to my feet. It’s Adrien in a grey suit, thumping the hell out of the guy. He punches and punches, until my attacker raises his hands to surrender. I have to stop him. The guy might deserve it, but Adrien doesn’t deserve to go to jail for this.
“Adrien.” I grab his arm.
He swings around, and just for a second looks like he wants to strike me too. I have never seen such rage.
“Please stop,” I plead as he studies me, gasping fiercely for air.
He turns back to my attacker, wrenches, and flings him out onto the street, warning him to run. And he does. Battered and bruised, he flees the scene of the crime.