Close To You: Part 1 (2 page)

4.

When she woke, Liam was already out of bed, buckling his trousers. She sat up and watched him.

"Going already?"

He offered her a smile and buttoned his shirt. "Yeah. Gotta get going."

She ran a hand through her hair.

"Do you . . . uh . . . wanna meet up again or something?" she asked him.

It was always awkward the morning after. Especially when they didn't want to stay a while. Even more
so when they didn't want to see you again.

"Yeah maybe. I'll be in touch," he said. She frowned as he came around the bed and kissed her on the forehead. "It was fun."

He headed for the door.

"I don't have your number or anything," Scarlet said.

Liam opened the door and gave the place a cursory look. "Listen, you might wanna tidy up in here. This place is a bit of a dump. Just sayin'."

He shut the door after himself. Scarlet sat there, feeling as though she'd been slapped in the face. "Well, fuck you too
 . . ." she finally said to herself, though she had to admit he had a point. But still . . .

"Jerk."

5.

Later that day, after she'd showered, James sent her a text to see if she was still meeting up with him for a coffee. She'd almost forgotten.

James:
Hey you. Are we still on?

Scarlet:
Yeah. Of course. What time?

James:
Make it 2 XO

Scarlet:
Ok. Meet you there. Usual place yeah?

James:
Don't be late, lady :)

Scarlet:
Cheeky. I'm never late ;) X

James:
Lol. I beg to differ!

She threw on a pair of jeans and a blouse, tucked her phone and keys into a handbag and set off just after one in the afternoon. A few minutes walk from her apartment she slid her card into an ATM and checked her balance.

YOU HAVE

$0 FUNDS

AVAILABLE

Scarlet put the card back in her purse then checked the zipped compartment. She had a ten pound note and some change in there. She put her purse away and continued walking to the café, a lump in her throat at her suddenly dire situation. Maybe she could ask her parents for a loan, just to tide her over for another month or two until she could find something. Or she could hit the credit card, but neither was an option she really wanted to entertain. Her parents wanted very little to do with her, because she wasn't like her sister. Scarlet wasn't settled with a husband, comfortable in a regular job like Lois.

She'd always flitted from one job to another, making ends meet however she could. She went out too much, sometimes drank too much. She picked up the occasional guy, something else her parents didn't agree with. However, she knew that if she rang them and explained her situation, they'd transfer money to her, no questions asked.

But it was a last resort.

She'd rather slap everything on her plastic (which she'd paid off a year before and swore to herself –
in a moment of unusual maturity
– that she'd never touch again) than ask them for a handout, beg for a loan from Mummy and Daddy.

If only she'd been able to keep her job till she could find something else. But she'd had no choice.

* * *

The chief practitioner at the Dentist's was an older guy in his fifties called Raymond Kyle. Although he was married with three grown kids, it didn't stop Dr. Kyle getting a bit free and easy in the contact department. A pat on the behind as she walked in front of him, a hand squeezing her shoulder in a "shall I give you a back rub, darling?" manner. Asking her to stay behind later than normal to sort out the filing system, and propositioning her in the process. The final straw had been one afternoon in his office when he grabbed her tit.

"That's enough," she'd snapped at him.

It was different to picking a guy up at a bar and enjoying some loose sex, no ties. But to get harassed every day for it by a man much older than
she, whom she wasn't in the least attracted to . . . that was a whole other ball game. It put her on edge. When he'd grabbed her, she had to resist the urge to throw a right hook at him.

"Scarlet, there's no need to react like that, it's harmless fun," Dr. Kyle said with his perfect, straight smile.

"I think there is," she snapped. "You've been doing it for a while, and I'm not comfortable with it. I work here, that's it."

His smile started to fade. "Lower your voice."

She glanced at the door to his office. It was open a crack, the waiting area directly outside. "No."

Dr. Kyle took a step toward her. Scarlet pointed a finger. "Stay away from me you fucking pervert."

It was like she'd slapped him in the face.

"Scarlet. Please, keep your voice down. Can't we talk about this like rational adults? It was just a misunderstanding."

"Fuck you," she said, aware now that if there were a line to cross that would result in you losing your job, it was probably when you told your boss to go fuck themselves. That usually sealed the deal. Scarlet backed toward the door, where she'd been in direct earshot of everyone in the waiting area and the other receptionist, Chloe. "I'm not going to fuck you. You're a married man, and I don't even find you attractive. What you've been doing to me, that's abuse. That's inappropriate. So stick your job up your arse, you fucking sex fiend."

She wished she'd had a camera. The look on his face was a perfect mixture of disbelief, embarrassment and numbness she'd ever seen.

As Scarlet walked out to the waiting area, Dr. Kyle's paying customers eyed her warily, some of them whispering to one another about what they'd overheard.

Ha! Damage is done here, boy-o,
she thought, proud of herself for finally standing up to his bullshit.

She grabbed her bag from behind the front desk.

"It's been lovely working with you Chloe, but I'm off," she said.

"I sort of gathered that," Chloe whispered.

"Don't let him do anything to you, okay?" Scarlet said. At that point Dr. Kyle had appeared in his doorway, his face bright red, no sign of his smile now. "The guy's a sexual predator."

And that was how she lost her job.

* * *

Scarlet found James sitting outside THE CHERRY TREE, sipping a latte. He stood up when he saw her, gave her a brief hug and a peck on the cheek. She ordered a strong coffee and sat opposite him.

He was her age with light brown hair and soft blue eyes. They'd been friends since high school, but their relationship always remained platonic. They'd never hooked up.

"How're you?" he asked her. "You look rough."

"You're not meant to say that to a lady," Scarlet said with mock disgust.

The waitress brought the coffee over and asked them if they wanted anything else.

"Not for me," Scarlet told her.

James flapped a hand at her. "We'll both have a croissant, please."

"James –"

The waitress nodded and left.

"Shush."

"No, James, I can't afford it," Scarlet said.

"I said shush. This is my shout," he said. "You can owe me."

"Thanks," Scarlet said quietly though she was quietly grateful. The big zeroes in her bank account had left her unnerved. It'd been a big mistake going out the night before. She should have kept hold of that money. Sure, the guy – Liam – had run out on her that morning, just like all the other men she took home, but still it had been good. Lots of drink, raunchy sex
 . . . what more could a girl ask?

The dress had done its job.

"You really should've put a complaint in against that arsehole," James said. "I don't think it's right you had to walk like that."

Scarlet sipped her coffee. "Well, I did more or less tell him to go screw himself. In front of everyone."

"Yeah I know, but that's not the point. He could do it again," James said.

"Hmm."

He smiled. "Why d'you say it like that?"

"Huh?"

"You know what I mean. That's your trouble, Scarlet, you're too eager to just walk away from a situation rather than deal with it," James told her.

"All right, Jesus, it's like I'm having coffee with my Mother for chrissakes," she said.

James wagged a finger at her. "No, no, no, if I were your mother I'd be chastising you for pulling a guy last night."

She felt the blood rush to her cheeks. "I didn't."

James laughed. He was attractive anyway, but when he smiled it brought him up another notch. James was a really handsome guy, and for the life of her Scarlet could never figure out why he stayed single. She'd asked him before if he was gay, something he'd flatly denied. But still. It didn't make sense.

Perhaps if he weren't her friend
 . . .

"If you didn't pull a guy last night, then how come you have a love bite on the side of your neck? Is it from a bug? Must be some big mosquito to do that," James said, still laughing.

"No, silly," Scarlet said, suddenly embarrassed about the red mark on her neck she'd hoped he wouldn't notice. "You know how it is."

He shook his head. The waitress set a plate with two croissants on their table.

"Do you disapprove?" she asked him.

"You know what I think. You should be careful is all," James said, but before she could say anything in reproach, he lifted a hand to stop her. "Now now now. I'm not saying it like that. God."

Scarlet started to eat her pastry.

"So, uh, what are you doing about a job? Any luck?"

She shook her head. "That's the problem. In this climate, it doesn't matter how many you apply for, you're going up against hundreds of people for the same job."

"And I suppose nobody wants to employ someone who blew the lid on their boss," James said.

Scarlet giggled. "Well, I didn't really blow the lid. I told my boss to go fuck himself. It's a bit different."

"I call that going out in style!" James said.

A woman two tables down was staring at them. Her ears had obviously pricked up at the F word being thrown about. Scarlet looked over.

"Watch out. The PC brigade's out," she muttered behind her coffee cup.

James looked about till he locked eyes on the woman. "Is there a fucking problem?" he asked her in the politest possible way.

She averted her eyes.

James turned back around to face Scarlet. She couldn't help but looked shocked.

"What?" he asked her, beaming. They both started laughing, trying to suppress it behind mouthfuls of croissant and coffee. Moments later, Mrs. Politically Correct took the hint and left. That made them laugh all the more.

"Thank you," Scarlet said when the woman had gone and their laughter subsided.

"What for?"

"For making me laugh. For
always
making me laugh. I do love you, my little Jamesy," she said as they got up to leave.

If she'd paused for to watch his expression, she'd have seen that he was dead serious when he said quietly. "Well
 . . . I love you too."

6.

Scarlet had had her
Internet cut off weeks before, leaving her with no choice but to either go to the library for an hour's free access or pay for it at a cyber cafe. The place nearby was more than reasonable, and she could get online and do what she needed to do for the change in her purse.

Gonna have to hit the plastic,
she thought.
Fucksake.

The guy in the café said, "Number three," and showed her to her booth. She sat down, opened up Google Chrome and went to her Dropbox for the r
esume she'd been emailing all over the place. It took about half an hour to send her resume to what seemed like the arse end of Middle Earth, then she sat at the computer with her chin resting in her hand, and logged into her Facebook.

She went to her news feed and scrolled down. A load of stuff from people she'd not seen in years, people she didn't even like and had no idea why she'd added them in the first place, and family members who'd ignore her, as if she were some kind of alien life form, if they passed her in the street.

An update from James appeared halfway down.

James Updated His Status: "A lovely chat over a coffee with my bestie Scarlet! X"

She smiled, despite herself. Why didn't some nice girl snatch him up? He'd make the perfect boyfriend for someone. And it wasn't just his winning personality, he was cute too.

She looked to the right. A flashing blue Ad promised to fix her up with the man of her dreams.

No thanks,
she thought.
The men of my dreams always run out on me in the morning.

FIND THE MAN OF YOUR DREAMS!

ADVENTURE

EXCITEMENT

ROMANCE

Bored of the ordinary life?

Attractive, Wealthy, Desirable men await you!

MYSUGAR.COM

Connect with your dream man TODAY!

Scarlet thought, What the fuck, and clicked the Ad. Normally she wouldn't have, but what was the risk on a public computer? It wasn't her computer about to be infected by a Russian Trojan.

I hope the man of my dreams is built like one though
, she joked to herself. In her mind there were rounds of applause and at least ten minutes of sustained laughter.

The site loaded up in a new tab. It told her how successful people are also attractive people. How she was doing the right thing, connecting with powerful men who
could provide everything she'd ever wanted.

She thought about her empty purse. About the guy the night before. The way he'd left that morning without so much as leaving his number. These men didn't want a return visit. It was like sticking a flag on a mountain, then going back to the same peak the following year. Once was a conquest; twice was revisiting the same old scenery.

These weren't the kind of men she craved. Though the sex had been incredible. It always was. But that had more to do with her than them.

I'm good at it,
she told herself.
I'm really good at it. I enjoy it. Why waste it on these fucking losers all the time?

Then another thought hit her
. I'm still young.

What if I find my Prince Charming? And what if he's loaded? Isn't it just an added bonus?

She signed up, a part of her screaming not to do it. But she hit SUBMIT anyway. Then she signed out of the computer and left, thinking nothing more of it.