Pearced (10 page)

“Anyway,” Pete continues with more than a hint of 'shut up and let me finish', "he looks at my order turns away laughs to himself, 'you with the girls tonight?' He asks me.”  Turning again to look at me.  "He reaches out to shake my hand, can you believe it? My name is James Pearce, I’m with that rabble."  He indicates with his head, "2 brothers, a step brother and 2 friends."

"I looked over, they are now all looking my way and then I realise it's the drinks they're after," one guy shouts "come on J, we’re parched mate, leave the girl alone and bring us some liquid joy." Clearly enjoying herself, she continues with a giggle.  “He smiles and takes the drinks to the table by the coats, by
my
coat. I pay the bartender, and as I turn he is standing right behind me."  Pete sips her wine, jerks her brow at me and talks on.  "Can I try that again?" He asks me quietly. "My name is James, can I join you for a drink?"

"Well, Tharie, I can't speak, this boy is gorgeous, he's pretty face is talking to
me. 
My lot are waiting for their drinks,” she takes a gulp of wine, “blimey I’ve slept with them all, I could use a new toy."

"I am shocked," I fake “all of them?" I laugh, “
Even
Big
Chris
?”

“Well yes, him too, we just wondered what it would feel like.  But those women, we've all been together a long time, and I figured what the hell."  Pete gets up to order another round, my wine is heating my belly from the insides, my lower lip is getting numb and my brain is fuzzy, and I’ve only had three glasses.

My phone vibrates, I look at the face, it's Daniel, my blood jumps violently in my chest, I am quick to read his text, my heart begins to beat so fast I can feel every pump resonating around my body, I imagine his lips kissing my neck...

DP: "Hope you're not going to have a hangover for your first day at RANDom Tharie!" It says, “red wine should be sipped slowly not gulped down like Ribena!" Startled I look up, I scan the bar looking everywhere without standing up, he's here, watching me, or was it just a guess?

Pete gets back to the table, "the landlord says our drinks are paid for tonight, that was nice of him, he said the bar owner says hello."  I wonder? Pete neither knows nor cares what that's all about, she lives in a freebies environment remember?

"Then what happened?” She begins again with renewed gust.

"We sit in a corner half way between my lot and his, the two groups hardly notice one of their members is missing and we chat and drink."  He and his brothers come from money I guess several references to Daddy and his business, and Mummy hosting polo matches, of course, it might
not
be true."

Or it might be, stranger things happen. My mind begins to wander. Stop it!

"Then this guy.” She swirls the wine around the narrow bowl of her glass.

"James.” I interrupt, names are important I think, get the names right, and spell them right too.

"OK, yes James, I let him put his hand on my knee, it's been a long time since I let a guy do that to me Tharie, and I liked it." I have to agree, I like it too.

No good deed goes unpunished.  Then?

“We were both pissed by then and started giggling, he said he had a flat nearby and would I like to see the view?" I obviously have a look of disappointment on my face I can’t hide "well, if he has a flat in Mayfair, he must be loaded.” She adds.  Probably not wrong.

"Or he could jam you in a cab and drive you anywhere!" I am stunned by my friends’ lack of safety, but she's sitting here telling me this story so I guess it worked out OK.

Note to self: give her a lecture and buy her a whistle too. She won't appreciate my do-goodery, but I don't care.

"Let me finish the story." She's getting louder and impatient.

My phone vibrates again, I glance down.

DP: "She talks a lot your friend doesn't she?" I stand up, where is he? I still see the same crowd, only now they’re staring at me, at us.  I sit back down slowly, "sorry Pete, please what happened next?" I'm feeling a little wobbly.

"What's
wrong
with you?" She asks frustrated at not getting to the good part of her story yet. "Who's texting you?"

I lie "someone from work that's all."  She begins protesting, knowing full well I don’t do after school specials and never, ever answer work calls, texts or e-mails in my own time. "I quit my job today” I explained. She just nods at her acceptance of my mood and consequent jumpiness. “I was offered that new position I told you about." I hadn’t wanted to spoil her story but she hugs me congratulations.

“Well done honey, that boy is
hot
.”  At that, we order another bottle of red just to finish the evening.  When it comes, it has been paid for and has a little note attached: 'congratulations Tharie, have a lovely time, your next evening is mine. Dx'  I quickly stuff the note in my pocket before Pete even notices and breathe a big sigh of relief, perhaps he had been here, but he left us alone, a gentleman, he just got a big tick from me.

Now if he likes Walter Matthau films, curries and girls with wood-chips all over them, we could be married. Bloody alcohol.

"So we walk across Bond Street to a third floor of a beautiful old corner building and he lets us in with a key. ”This must be handy for picking up girls," I say to him, "just across the road from the bar."  I roll my eyes in mock disapproval.

"Oh, the bar belongs to one of my brothers Danny, he plays piano and wanted a place to keep it." He smiles, takes my hand and leads me upstairs.  Where after another bottle of Merlot, we had partly pissed and rocking, fast and hard, regular but vigorous sex, it was amazing!" She empties her glass and begins pouring another from the bottle, "I had a great time, no fuss, just chat and sex." Sipping from one of the clean glasses that appeared on the table without either of us noticing. “A real cock feels very different from the rubber version.” 

“Agreed, but I actually can't remember.” I tell her shaking my head and smiling like a silly person. “Anyway, what did you expect?” How much have I had to drink?

"I think I am in love.” shocked, I almost spit out a slurp of wine.  Pete continues, “he's asked me to have lunch with him tomorrow." I start to say something very sensible and while my mouth is still open, "and I said yes!" Pete looks very pleased with herself. "I haven’t told the girls!” she giggles happily. She takes a large gulp of red wine, and we both watch as the 'legs' trail back down the inside curve of the enormous glass.  Another well filled bowl of steaming hot fat chips arrives, when did we order these?  They sit on the table between us and we both dive in, stories about sex give girls an appetite, haven't you noticed?

We break down Pete's evening again into bite-sized chinks, and re-evaluate her position like grown-ups, we have half an inch of wine left and really shouldn’t be drinking any-more and certainly not strategizing.  Sorting out life’s little cosmic questions when you've had too much to drink seems very clever at the time, and we decide between us that she should cancel lunch and go for dinner where there's likely more opportunity of a repeat performance, but sober this time.

Pushing aside a fuzzy warm soft blur of wine, I’m left with the thoughts Daniel was there tonight.

Right, getting home then. This'll be fun.

Much later in chapter four, Monday
:21thoctober2013, the rescue.

We get up, grab our coats hug goodnight. We leave the bar as a cab pulls up, Pete flags it and we say goodnight. "I’ll get the next one, I need the bathroom anyway,
night
." Pete blows me a kiss and her cab drives away.  As I pull myself back up the stairs to the street, men in grey suits straight from the office are still drinking champagne at the bar.  It's the part of town where they drink red wine and Moet, not beer, carry iPads instead of a briefcase, and think the idea of dress-down Fridays is loosening their ties and having a glass at lunch, I secretly like it.

The men are joking and laughing really loudly, they are laughing at me I think, I look down at myself, my parka doesn’t fit me, is that why they’re laughing? Well I try very hard not to care. I look up Bond Street for a cab, there’s a few coming, as I step, or rather lurch to the curb to flag one down, a big black car slowly pulls up beside me.  I feel safe, only a few steps away are loads of suited gents they'll be only too willing to help a damsel in distress.  I sway about a little numb from the ears down, the back window hums as it lowers, and Daniel is sitting there in the back, looking so gorgeous, and smiling.  Though he doesn’t approve of my inebriatiative state, I can tell.  He opens the door for me. "Stan," he says his finger on the intercom button, "deepest darkest Essex please."

Oh good,
I’m
going there too!

I fall into the back seat, so glad to be warm and safe, to have landed on a soft leather seat not tarmac (that's another story), my head is swimming around me. I have my head in Daniels lap, as I regain some sort of composure, he is stroking my long hair, I close my eyes, "thank you for rescuing me" I say weakly.

"I was in the area, you looked like you could do with a lift."  Another coincidence?

My next conscious thought is I am being held up at my front door, the cold hitting me on my face, the smell of earth.  I can hear the horses in the yard munching haylage, the stars bright above, what is happening?  Someone is getting my keys from my
pocket, my parka has many pockets, I think it might be cold enough to zip the quilted lining into it now?  He opens the door and we fall into the hallway.   Max meets us, stretches his long sleek body and heads outside for a hunt. 

My grass needs cutting.

My head is swimming, warmth, so lovely and warm, my stove is still glowing orange from earlier and the smell is inviting. I am happy to be home.  A comfortable feeling and a stirring smell of a man, that man, tiredness slips its hand in mine and leads me to sleep, was there a man? How did I get here?

I wake in the night, I am undressed just wearing my underwear.  Grandma’s advice about always wearing matching underwear was very good indeed, and I wonder whether he undressed me or if I did it myself.  A little handwritten note lays by my clock, 'see you at 10 tomorrow, Dx' the writing is sweeping bold strokes and fine swirls, an artistic hand in black ink. The card folded note has an embossed crest of an outstretched eagle with a shipwreck in its claws...I Have seen that logo before somewhere?

Max and Beauty are sleeping curled up beside my legs in little black furry curved balls, I fall back in my pillow and I’m back under the influence of sleep once more.

Chapter five, Tuesday
:22ndoctober2013, my first day

The alarm beeps, I startle awake,
how
? I shake off the feeling, slap my alarm off, jump out of bed, remembering the wine suddenly, as my head protests.  I ignore the feeling, brush my teeth, dress, feed the cats and head out to the horses. 
Awww
, toothpaste and red wine, Yuk! It's going to be my first day working with Daniel and what a first impression I will make! Huge Prada sunglasses will be my saviour.

As I finish shutting the yard gates, the boys are grazing as a blanket of mist hovers above the ground, happy and fed they will enjoy a day in the autumn sunshine, I wish I could stay here with them, I could just sit here and watch them all day. The wreck of my abandoned project sits rusting away alongside my Landy.  A beautifully sculpted 1968 Mustang, my beloved car. Partly restored, a project I worked on with my Dad, but now he's gone it's just another reminder and a failure.  I pretend I’m OK, but I haven’t played the drums since he died.   The sleek beautiful lines of the bodywork of the Mustang 'Old Blackie' clear even though they're rust covered remind me.  I look away.

Inside I drink a dark cup of tea, very dark, like old leather brogues, the colour of the leather I’d choose should my Mustang ever be finished, tea leather interior, black outside.  She'd be magnificent. I finish my tea, put the cup in the dishwasher, grab everything that has to recharge and stuff it all into my bag.  I’m not hung-over, still a little drunk.

DP: “Thought you might need a lie-in” bloody cheek.

TC: “Was up at 5.30am as usual” thank you
very much
.

DP: “Still pissed?” I repeat my earlier comment.

TC:  ”How dare you” cheeky bugger.

DP: “Truth hurts, see you later” so embarrassing.

TC: “I'm leaving now.” if I can get the key in the door to lock it.

DP: “And Tharie?” oh no!

TC: “Yes...?” this is going to hurt isn't it?

DP: “Wonder Woman pants?” bloody hell.

I have my favourite super skinny acid washed jeans ripped at the knees, my below the knee black suede tassel boots from last year’s collection, Isabel Marant knows boots.  An odd shaped All Saints top which needs super powers and a complex set of written instructions (and perhaps a second pair of hands too) to get on, and my parka with the quilted lining zipped in for additional warmth. Mum is right.
Again
. Standing at the front door in the morning sunshine, it's bright and the boys are wandering about in the grass, their bay bodies so shiny and healthy, they don't need rugs on today.  I put on my huge Prada sunglasses and lock the door behind me, after
several
attempts. I hear a crunch and crackle in the gravel behind me as low profile, wide rimmed tires travel down the long curved sweep that is my driveway, it's Stan.  He skilfully turns the long car around, and steps out smoothing his suit, very smart. He says "good morning Miss Charles, Daniel has instructed me to drive you in this morning, he thought a train journey might be”...he very professionally fails to notice my dreadful hangover and carries on, “uncomfortable."