Voyeur Extraordinaire (3 page)

“Bad day at work?” she asked, keeping her voice down like she thought I might have a hangover. But sadly only our customers were allowed to drink. And technically I had only been allowed to drink hard liquor for two weeks. That’s when I’d turned twenty-one. Not that my age had stopped me from taking a gulp before then,
or
work in a bar that served said liquor. Jack hadn’t given a fuck about my age when he hired me. Not that it mattered anymore.

“I can’t remember the last good day I had,” I said. I had a feeling that the
Matcha was slowly kicking in. Or maybe that was just Amy’s chipper presence.

“You’re too young to be so jaded,” Amy said jokingly. I rolled my eyes at her. She didn’t get her ass touched by sweaty, beer-bellied old man every fucking day. Bruno had rolled out of bed and was trying to get her attention. He was using his charm on her, and like usually it worked. She patted his head and whispered words of adoration. And, honestly, who could resist that face? But he ignored me like he always did when Amy was around. She was his flavor of the month. Well, more like flavor of the year.

“Sometimes I worry that I’ll be stuck waiting tables all my life. I’m not sure I can survive another two years listening to stinky guys call me puppet or babe. Who came up with that name anyway? Do I look like a pig?” I couldn’t believe I’d been working at Jack’s for that long already. For the first year of my life in New York I’d worked in the kitchen of a small restaurant, washing dishes, but when they’d closed, Jack’s was the only place where I could find a new job.

Tea shot out of Amy’s nose as she succumbed to a fit of giggles. I handed her a napkin, stifling my own laughter. “That was so lady like. I bet Jared would have ravished you if he’d seen it.”

“Oh shut up,” she gasped out between bursts of laughter while wiping her chin and the table with the napkin. Eventually she turned serious. “Maybe I can ask Fiona if she needs someone else,” Amy said.

I shook my head. “No, it’s okay. You don’t have to do that. You know I’m not vegan. Don’t you have a vegans-only policy?”

“Yeah, but I’ll ask anyway. You don’t eat meat, I’m sure that counts for something.”

I didn’t mention that I would have given anything for a few scallops in that moment. By now my skin had dried and my hair was a knotted clot atop my head. “Maybe if I’m lucky I can sell a few short stories this year.”

“I’m sure you’ll snatch up a publisher with your new book.”

She was one of the few people I’d told about my writing, and she never made fun of me or didn’t take it seriously. That was what I loved about Amy. Everything was possible in her mind. She dreamed of opening her own vegan restaurant one day and she neve
r doubted that it would happen.

I’d mentioned my love for writing to my parents once but that hadn’t gone over well. My mom had said my time would be better spent looking for a suitable husband and my dad wanted me to work a proper job, preferably take over his vet practice at some point.

“Does Jared have the early shift again?” I asked, remembering Amy’s comment about Jared taking care of Bruno. Jared was doing his residency in a hospital two blocks from here and had been gone most evenings and nights in the last few weeks.

“Yeah, he left around five.” She and Jared were high school sweethearts. I didn’t think there still existed couples like them. She always got me back on my find-true-love wagon. They'd been together for six years and were nauseatingly happy. If I didn’t like her so much, I’d probably hate her for having the perfect boyfriend. Though at this point in my life, I’d probably
even take the asshat boyfriend.

Maybe she knew the blond man. I could ask her. I bit my lip anxiously and wondered how I could broach the subject without being too obvious. I could hardly tell her that I'd watched him having sex. Though, again, Amy probably wouldn’t find fault in that.

“Uhh...Amy...” Wow. Wasn't I the epitome of eloquence?

She smiled at me, her expression curious.

“I saw a man yesterday...and he lost his...umm...”

Think of something!

“I-pod. I want to give it back to him. Do you know who he is?” I watched her hopefully.

She started giggling and I felt heat rise up into my cheeks. “You haven't even described him to me. My
Spidey sense isn’t that good.”

I grinned sheepishly. “Well, he was quite tall and he...”

...had a mouthwatering chest.

“...
had blond hair, almost golden, good looking, maybe in his late twenties and he seems to live in the building across from ours.” I nodded toward my window. I decided not to give her the detailed description of his bedroom. That would have made me sound like a creep.

Amy gave me a knowing smile.

Was I being that transparent? I wasn't a good liar, I knew that, but apparently it was even worse than I'd thought.

“Golden hair and good looking? Well, that might be Adrian Black. Jared and he go to the same fitness center,” she said thoughtfully. Maybe I should start working out.

She was watching me searchingly for a moment. “Be careful, he's a womanizer.”

“I'm not interested in him.” I stared down at my cup, avoiding Amy’s eyes, and shrugged. “I just thought I should give him his
i-Pod back.”

Amy grinned at me. “I think you need to get dressed, and I have to clean the mess that’s my apartment,” she said as she rose from the chair. I stood as well and hugged her. She grinned at me widely when she pulled back. “See you tomorrow morning!” she called over her shoulder as she walked out of my apartment.

I chanced a look at Bruno who was sitting next to my leg, watching me with his tongue wedged between his teeth. He probably wanted to go on his morning walk. It was almost ten o’clock by now. If I didn't hurry I wouldn’t manage to walk Bruno, go grocery shopping and head into the park to get some writing time in before I had to be ready for work at 5. I rushed towards my dresser, all the while trying to untangle my messy hair, and put on jeans and a white blouse. Grabbing a granola bar for breakfast, I put Bruno on his leash and hurried out of the apartment with him.

We got into the elevator, which smelled of pee and vomit. I’d been trapped in the thing twice before but I was too lazy to walk down the stairs. The air was crisp when I stepped out of the building, and I shivered in my thin blouse. I’d have to fetch my jacket before I headed towards the grocery store later. Bruno was sniffing the ground and raised his leg every few feet, as if he owned every inch of this place. My eyes kept darting up to the window of Adrian Black. Amy had said he was a womanizer. I wondered how she knew and what exactly it meant. I tore my gaze away, chiding myself for my irrational behavi
or. This obsession had to stop.

A few minutes later, Bruno was strapped into the basket at the front of my scooter, his doggy goggles protecting his eyes and his tongue lolling in the wind as I meandered through traffic. A few cars honked when I cut in front of them, but I ignored them. I wedged my scooter in the narrow gap between two cars in front of the small grocer. After I’d brought my groceries to my apartment, Bruno and I spent a few hours in the park. I was worried that thoughts of a certain man would stop me from working on my book, but I was actually able to ban him from my mind.
Most of the time at least.

Now and then, my mind wandered back to what I'd witnessed the night before but most of the day I was too immersed in my book and later, during my job in the bar, I was too busy evading the groping hands and
leery comments to think of Adrian Black.

This changed, however, the moment I returned into my apartment at 1 o'clock in the night.

My window seemed to taunt me with its mere presence while I changed into more comfortable clothes. I glared at it and pulled the curtains shut. Better safe than sorry. I didn't want to be tempted.

I made a midnight-snack salad of Avocado, tomatoes and lettuce for me, and ate it at the kitchen table. Bruno was pressed against my leg, but except for his breathing and the sound of my chewing, silence crowded the room. I wished Amy was here to talk about one of the new
superfoods, but she was probably snuggled against Jared. Living alone, without my parents’s constant supervision, had felt like a dream come true when I first moved to New York. But after three years, I was so over it. I hated the way the walls closed in on me at night, how a cold bed greeted me when I came home from work.

Maybe I should just take a peek through the binoculars.

No.

I would resist. I wouldn't look. He probably had his curtains drawn tonight anyway. I wouldn't turn into a perverted peeping Tom.

I lay down on the small sofa pressed against the only free spot left in my apartment – between the stove and the bathroom door. Its flowery fabric smelled of dust and staleness. I turned on the TV to distract myself, scared to glance at my window and succumb to my silly desire. This unhealthy obsession had to stop. Maybe if I told myself that often enough, I’d really start to believe it.

That night I fell asleep on the sofa and the next morning my neck hurt like hell. But I decided it was worth it. After all, I’d resisted, even though my dreams had been made up of naked chests and golden hair.

M
y fingers curled around the counter and I pressed my eyes shut, fighting the urge to grab a bottle and throw it at the head of the bastard who’d slapped my butt twice this evening. But I needed this job and seriously injuring a customer with a bottle was probably exactly the reason Jack needed to kick me out. This day had been a fucking train-wreck from the moment I’d woken with a brain-splitting headache to the moment I’d arrived at work five minutes late and had to listen to Jack’s screaming.

“Puppet,” the slurred voice of Ass-slapper carried into my ears and I forced my eyes open with a deep breath. For a moment they lingered on the display of liquor towering above me but then I turned to the customer with a fake smile. He was sitting at the table closest to the bar and I had to pass him every time I delivered drinks to a table.
Very clever. The guy was shit-faced. He was clutching the edge of the table to keep himself from toppling off his chair. I made my way toward him and he actually managed to lift his glass. “Be a doll and bring me another scotch.”

“I’m sorry, but I think you had enough,” I said, trying to sound as civil as humanly possible after five hours in this hellhole. The lights were dimmed as always and the smell of alcohol, stale smoke and sweat was heavy in the air.
“Should I call a cab for you?”

The face of the man scrunched up. “I don’t want a fucking cab. I want a drink.”

I took a step back, away from his anger. “I’m sorry--” I began again but the man gripped my wrist, surprisingly steady for someone as drunk as him. Leon was already coming around the bar – he was our barkeeper and his talent was totally wasted in this place. But I shook Ass-slappers grip off and he half-fell forward, body convulsing and a wave of vomit spewed out of him and all over my legs and shoes.

“Oh fuck!” I stumbled back, fighting the sickness that shot through my body at the feeling of the hot vomit on my body. Leon appeared at my side and put a hand on my shoulder. His black brows drew together in concern when he looked into my face. His hair was pulled back in a short ponytail and he was wearing a shirt with palm trees that made him look like a member of the Beach Boys.

“Why don’t you leave early? I take care of the asshole, and Mona and I finish the shift without you.”

I gave him a shaky smile. “Thanks, but Jack will have my head if I take off.” Leon lifted Ass-slapper to his feet and half-carried him to the entrance. I hurried through the backdoor and into the staff bathroom. I snatched out several paper towels and wetted them before rubbing them over my calves and shoes, but the vomit stuck to my tights and shoes. It stank of rancid cheese and alcohol, and made me gag. I threw the stained towels to the ground and gripped the
wash basin, tears rising into my eyes. Why was my life such a mess?

The door opened and Mona came in, wearing the same ridiculously short skirt and too tight white blouse. “Leon told me what happened.” Her blue eyes took in my ruined clothes. “I have extra tights in my purse. And ma
ybe you could wash your shoes.”

“Thanks,” I said, accepting the packet of ti
ghts she was holding out to me.

“Are you okay?”

“Hard day,” I said simply. No use in telling her I was fine when it was so obvious that I wasn’t.

She rubbed my shoulder. “Why don’t you go home and get some rest. You look pale.” Mona and I weren’t exactly friends. She’d always been determined to keep me at arms length. Leon once mentioned that she saw me as a competitor for tips. Though she had to be blind if she didn’t realize that she, with her wide, womanly hips and D-cup, made much more money than I did. Most of the middle-aged customers preferred her looks – except for the few guys who liked their women tall and skinny. The Twiggy type, how Amy once put it. And yet Mona’s concern stirred something in me, because I could see in her face that she meant it. At home, in my shabby apartment nobody would be waiting for me, nobody would take care of me. “No. I want to work.” She stared at m
e for a moment before she left.