| |
––––––––
“FROM NOW ON, LIV, I’M going to tell you a time half an hour earlier than when we need to leave, just so I know you’re going to be ready on time.”
Olivia Midhurst looked to where her friend, Ellen, was standing in the doorway, one hand on her hip, her lips pressed together with disapproval.
“I know. I’m sorry.” Liv hopped around her bedroom, trying to shove her foot into her black high heel. “I never mean to be so late. I’m just a really bad judge of how long it takes to do things.”
Ellen’s eyebrows lifted. “How old are you now?”
“Twenty-seven years is nowhere near enough time to learn things,” she protested. “And anyway, you were late for coffee the other day.”
“Ryan’s car broke down, and he couldn’t give me a lift. I think that was a reasonable excuse.”
“Okay, okay. I’m ready now, though, see?” Olivia straightened and put her hands out either side of her, displaying the little black dress she wore. “Ta-da.”
“You look gorgeous, as always.” Ellen jerked her head towards the front door, causing her blonde bob to swish against her jawline. “Now, are we going, or what? The poor taxi driver has either given up and left or fallen asleep at the wheel.”
Olivia snatched up her clutch bag. “Yes, we’re going.”
They were meeting some friends, who were also work colleagues, in central London. Olivia normally tried to stay away from the centre of the city—there were too many tourists around—but a DJ one of them loved was playing at one of the central clubs, so she’d been roped along. Her outfit probably wasn’t suitable for jumping around a hot, crowded room, but the dance scene wasn’t really her thing. She was hoping to drag one or more of her friends off to a Soho wine bar before the night was over.
“Where’s Tammy?” Ellen asked as they left the flat to head down to the waiting cab. Knowing Olivia didn’t trust the lift, they automatically took the stairs. “Is she out tonight as well?”
Tammy was Olivia’s flatmate. While Tammy was blonde, like Ellen, there the similarities ended. Ellen was short and curvy, and loved nothing more than spending the weekends playing house with her boyfriend, Ryan, where Tammy was tall and willowy and spent all weekend partying.
“Yeah, she met some guy in a bar last weekend, and now he’s wining and dining her. He’s one of those city-types she likes.” Liv shrugged. “She’s happy, but I’ll put anything on him being married.”
Ellen smacked her with her purse. “Don’t be so negative! He might be great. Not all guys are total shits, you know.”
“I know, I know. You found one of the good ones.”
“Ryan has his faults, but I can trust him. And you’ll find someone, too, one day. I know you will.”
Liv gave a mock shudder. “No, thanks. I’m happy on my own. Men are only good for one thing, and it’s not their brain.” She gave Ellen a lewd wink and nudged her with her elbow, and Ellen gave a squeal.
“You’re so bad!”
Being able to pick up almost any guy she set her eyes on was a new thing for Olivia. She’d been an awkward child, with her red curly hair, pale skin, and freckles. Always tall and skinny, she’d developed a way of standing, hunched over, so as not to be noticed. Of course, that hadn’t worked. The more she’d tried not to be noticed, the more people had focused on her. By people, she meant the popular girls at school. The boys really had ignored her—they’d done that without her even trying. But the girls were a different story. If you didn’t tick the boxes—pretty, popular, clever—you might as well have committed social suicide at school.
It wasn’t until later, after everything had happened, that she’d reinvented herself. To her surprise, she’d learned adulthood had meant being lanky was a good thing, and the breasts she hadn’t fully developed until she’d been way past the age of eighteen might be small, but they were enough to be desired. She’d discovered hair products that transformed her frizz into sought-after curls, and spray tans to give her pale skin some colour. But it was her attitude that really made the difference. Keeping her chin up, smiling, making eye contact, and faking confidence. That was what was important.
Imposter syndrome. Liv had it in spades. She wished she could be one of those women who didn’t care what people thought of her, but she thrived on the approval of others.
They caught the cab into the centre of the city and hopped out. Already, a small queue of people waited to get into the club, though to Liv it looked as though most of them were a decade younger than she was. She hadn’t been like these teenagers when she was eighteen. Her life had been far more serious back then, so she figured she deserved to make up for it now.
The two women waited in line, before paying their entrance fee and stepping inside the club. It was already busy, and too loud for Liv, though she smiled and tried to look as though she belonged.
“There they are,” Ellen yelled in her ear, pointing across the throng of people and flashing lights toward a small group at the bar.
They pushed their way through. The club smelled of stale sweat, old alcohol, and desperation. Some people might have been there to have a good time, but most were there in the hope of hooking up with someone by the end of the night. Liv felt eyes on her as she walked through, being assessed as a possible screw by the men, and competition by the women. Instinctively, she sucked in her stomach and lifted her chin, trying not to feel the way she was being mentally undressed. The people they were meeting—another woman, Callie, and two of the guys she worked with in the estate agent’s office—spotted them. The men were outnumbered now that she and Ellen had arrived. She didn’t think they minded. Though nothing had been said out loud, one of the men, Stevie, was as camp as they came, and the other guy, Philip, had never mentioned having a girlfriend. Perhaps he was still in the closet, but he and Stevie were definitely closer than two platonic males normally were. Not that it was any of her business, of course.
“We’d almost given up on you,” Callie yelled as they approached. The music was at the sort of volume where everything spoken for the next few hours would have to be done at shouting level.
“Yeah, sorry, my fault,” Liv hollered back. “I was running late.”
“It’s almost eleven.”
She gave a shrug. What can you do?
“No Tony tonight, then?” Liv asked, mentioning their boss.
Callie rolled her eyes. “No, thank God. I was a bit worried he was going to invite himself along when he heard us all talking about coming here, but then he turned around and walked back into his office.”
Ellen laughed. “Thank fuck for that. No one wants their boss coming along on a night out.”
Callie’s eyebrows shot up her forehead. “Especially not a boss like Tony.”
“Aw, come on,” Liv said, sticking up for the man who’d given her a chance. “He’s not that bad.”
“Are you kidding me?” Callie pulled a face. “The man is in his forties, and I’m not sure he has a single friend to speak of, and he’s probably never had a girlfriend. Honestly, I don’t know how he ended up in the selling business, and especially not as the boss.”
“That’s the thing,” Ellen said. “He has us to run around selling the houses, while he coordinates everything in the background.” She shrugged. “He doesn’t need a personality for that, just good organisational skills.”
Callie flipped her long chestnut hair over her shoulder. The other woman was older than they were by a few years, in her thirties rather than twenties, but hadn’t yet settled down. “Well, either way, I’m glad he’s not here. It’s one thing seeing him at work, but having him around socially gives me the creeps.”
Olivia smacked her on the arm. “Don’t be so mean. He’s not that bad.”
Callie drew back her lips in a grimace. “You date him, then.”
Liv laughed. They both knew there was no way any of them would be dating Tony Payne.
Someone bought a line of shots, and Liv found herself licking salt, biting down on lime, and grimacing. She could handle a couple of drinks, but no more than that. She was careful to pace herself, knowing too much didn’t agree with her. The alcohol quickly did its job, giving her the confidence she normally had to fake, and she found herself being tugged through the throng of clubbers and out onto the dance floor.
Liv danced, surrounded by her colleagues, hands in the air, bodies bumping. She’d even managed to forget how unsuitable her footwear was, though in her heels she was taller than everyone else—even most of the men. The club was hot with all the grinding bodies, and her hair grew damp and clung to the back of her neck and forehead. With surprise, she realised she was actually having a good time.
Her skin prickled with the sensation of someone watching her, and she scanned the crowd. Being recognised by someone was something she dreaded. She’d come to London because it was a big enough city to get lost in. Only a small percentage of people she came across in the city were actually from here. Instead, she was surrounded by a ragtag crew of people from all over the world. It was accepted that you would never get to meet their families, or friends they went to school with. You got their general story, and that was enough. No one ever bothered to look any deeper.
She caught someone watching her, and her heart jack-knifed, but for all the right reasons. He stood alone, taking a swig of his bottle of expensive imported beer, all the while never taking his eyes off her. Unlike most of the people here who were casually dressed, this guy still wore what looked like a made-to-measure suit. It was a Friday night, so she guessed he must have been dragged out for drinks directly after finishing work.
Liv glanced away, pretending not to have noticed him, and continued to dance with her work colleagues. She glanced back to the spot where the man had been, and her stomach dipped with disappointment. The man had gone.
Oh, well.
He’d looked cute, but he was just another guy. There were plenty of them around.
She turned around, planning to get another drink, and found him directly behind her.
“Oh!”
He smiled, revealing teeth that could only have been professionally whitened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you jump. I wondered if I could buy you a drink?”
Liv looked round to find Ellen grinning and waggling her eyebrows at her.
“Um, yeah, sure. Thanks.”
She followed him to the bar, admiring the way he moved through the crowd, as though his presence alone made people step out of the way. His shoulders looked great in the suit jacket, though she thought he must have been hot, and she sneaked a look down to see if his arse matched the rest of him. The bottom of the jacket hid most of it, but she figured it was good to leave some things up to the imagination.
They lined up, side by side, at the bar.
“What can I get you?” He had to shout to be heard above the music. She caught a whiff of his cologne—something spicy and expensive, like the rest of him.
“Just half a lager, thanks.” She’d only had the one shot of tequila so far, so a small beer wasn’t going to hurt. She made a mental note of it, however, not wanting to lose track.
“Peroni?” he said, naming one of the brands.
She nodded. “Thanks.”
He signalled the bartender and ordered the drinks.
“What’s your name?” He had to lean in close to make himself heard, so she felt the heat of his breath brush against her ear.
“Olivia,” she told him. “Most people call me Liv.”
“Liv,” he repeated with a smile. “I like that. I’m Michael.”
“Do people call you Mike for short?” She flirted with a flip of her hair over one shoulder.
He shook his head. “No, it’s Michael.”
“Oh, right.” She wasn’t sure what to say to that. Thankfully, her drink was pushed toward her on the bar, and she was able to distract herself by picking up the beer and taking a sip. It was cold, fizzy, and refreshing. Just what she needed after all the dancing.
She glanced across the club to see her friends still on the dance floor. Ellen was keeping an eye on her, making sure the guy in the suit wasn’t a complete weirdo. Her friend gave her a little wave, and Liv held back a grin.
The man—Michael, not Mike—turned from the bar so they were both facing the same way. He leaned in to shout in her ear. “Do you go clubbing much?”
“Not really. You don’t look like this is your usual haunt either.” She motioned at the suit.
He laughed. “No, it isn’t. I got dragged out by one of the younger guys at work. He got a promotion and wanted to celebrate.”
“Where is he now?”
Michael shrugged. “No idea. Last I heard, he was puking in the toilet. I figured I’d leave him to it.”
Liv wrinkled her nose. “I don’t blame you.”
“Can I buy you a drink somewhere a little more civilised? There’s a wine bar around the corner that will still be open.”
She smiled. “Yeah, that would be great. Let me go and tell my friend where I’m going. We’re sharing a taxi back to Shepherd’s Bush, and she’ll be mad if I disappear on her.”
It was her way of letting him know she wouldn’t be going home with him tonight, but also making sure he knew someone would miss her if she didn’t show back up. A single woman in the city, she needed to take precautions.
“I’ll make sure I get you back safely.”
Liv ran up to Ellen and dragged her off to one side to tell her what was happening.
“Okay, but be careful,” Ellen yelled back. “He looks hot, but it’s often the ones you don’t expect who are the psychos.”
Liv laughed, thinking how true that statement was. “I’ve got my phone. I’ll call you as soon as we’re done, okay?”
“Sure. Have fun, honey!”
She hugged her friend, and tried not to think about the sweaty imprint Ellen’s cheek had left on hers.
She found Michael waiting for her near the exit. He put out his elbow for her, an old-fashioned gesture, and she smiled and took it. Relieved to be out of the noisy, hot, sweat-permeated club, she inhaled a lungful of fresh air. They walked a few streets until they found a wine bar which catered to only a handful of customers at this time of night.
“Do you drink red wine?” he asked as they were seated at a table. “Or are you a white drinker?”
“Honestly, I’m happy with either.”
“I’ll get red, then, shall I?” He lifted a hand to signal the waitress, and she re-appeared with a wide smile. “Can we have a bottle of your New Zealand Pinot Noir?”
Liv flapped a hand. “Oh, just a glass is fine for me.” Mentally, she calculated what she’d already had. The shot of tequila, the half a lager, and one glass of red wine. That was enough for her. Perhaps most single women her age would be drinking their own body weight in alcohol on a night out, but Liv was meticulous about the number of units she drank.
But he waved away her concerns. “I’m sure I can manage more than a glass. We can always leave anything we don’t drink.”
A blush heated her cheeks. “Yeah, okay. That’s fine.”
The waitress returned with the bottle, and Liv was relieved when she poured a drop into Michael’s glass to taste. She had no idea about wines, really, and would have been mortified to accept a bottle, only for the handsome man sitting opposite to say it was off.
He nodded to accept the wine, and the waitress filled their glasses. Michael picked up his and lifted it towards Liv in a salute. “To making new friends.”
She copied his actions and clinked hers against his. “Making new friends,” she parroted.
He sat back in his seat, his head tilted slightly to one side as he regarded her. “So, tell me everything there is to know about you, Liv.”
She laughed, a little embarrassed at the scrutiny. “There isn’t really much to tell.” Or at least there wasn’t much she was able to tell him. “I’m twenty-seven, and I’m an estate agent.”
“Have you been doing that long?”
She shrugged. “A few years now. I enjoy it. Means I’m not stuck inside an office all day every day. What about you?”
“Recruitment.” He leaned in, conspiratorial. “And will you think differently of me if I tell you I’m thirty-four?”
She pulled a face but was teasing. Flirting. “Thirty-four, huh? Practically an old man.”
He mock shuddered. “Pension will be on the horizon soon.”
They both laughed.
They sipped the wine as they talked. Liv was relieved the conversation flowed with places they’d travelled to—his were far more exotic than hers, though she managed to come up with some stories a few of the younger crowd at work had recounted to her—what foods they liked, television shows, and books.
Her phone buzzed, and she realised the last hour had flown by.
“Sorry,” she told him as she checked her mobile. People checking their phones while they talked was a pet hate of hers. It was a message from Ellen. “My friend is expecting me.”
He shrugged. “No problem.”
She looked at the message, expecting Ellen to be complaining about her not having called yet, but it was something different.
Heading on somewhere else, honey. Call me if you want to join us. Have fun with Mr Tall Dark and Handsome. Be safe.
Liv hid a smile.
“Everything okay?” Michael enquired.
“Yes, fine.” She was tempted to stay, to order another bottle of wine, and sit, feeling glamorous and desired opposite this gorgeous, intense man who seemed to hang on her every word. But she knew how it would end—with her getting too drunk and losing control, and then everything would go wrong. It had happened before, and she didn’t want it happening again. Especially not with this guy. Some of the men she’d picked up in the past were nothing to her—antipodeans who were travelling and passed their time by working in bars and partying. They were fine for one night, and most of the time she wouldn’t have even been able to remember their names. But this guy was different. He was sophisticated, classy. She wanted him to think she was, too.
“I have to get going,” she said, regretting her words with every syllable, but knowing it was the right thing to do. “I’ve got things to do in the morning.”
“Oh, of course. I totally understand.” Did she see a flicker of regret across his handsome features? “Is your friend meeting you?”
“She’s already gone home and is waiting for me there.” It was a white lie, but she wanted him to think someone would miss her if she didn’t arrive home.
Maybe he thought it strange that she and her friend hadn’t grabbed a taxi together, but if he did, he was too polite to say so.
“Can I take your number?” he asked with a shy smile that made something in her chest clench. “I’d really love to see you again.”
She nodded, heat rising to her cheeks, having to suppress a little smile of happiness. “Sure.”
They exchanged numbers, and then he walked her out to the taxi rank. He made no attempt to try to get in with her—something she wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or happy about—but instead leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “It was lovely meeting you tonight, Olivia. I hope we can do it again soon.” And he gave her a final smile before slamming the taxi door shut.
Liv lifted her hand in a small wave as the taxi pulled away from the stand. Michael returned the wave. She sat back around to face the front, but then glanced over her shoulder again.
He was still standing on the pavement, watching the car drive away.
***
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Liv was stepping through her front door. The flat was quiet, just as she’d expected it to be. Her flatmate Tammy tended to stay away most weekends, hanging out at friends’ flats or with the latest boyfriend. She usually reappeared Sunday night, having partied most of the weekend away.
Liv slipped out of the dress and kicked off her shoes. She was relieved to rid herself of the heels, and stretched out her toes, rolling the balls of her feet on the soft carpet. She threw on a vest she slept in and went to the bathroom to scrub off the remains of her makeup and brush her teeth. Her shared flat was one of those new builds that insisted on having as many bathrooms as bedrooms, even though it meant the bedrooms themselves were tiny, but it did mean she was able to have her own en-suite, while her flatmate used the main bathroom as her own. It was a little luxury, but an added privacy Liv appreciated. There was even a walk-in wardrobe which was also ridiculously tiny, but meant the agents got to boast about it on the listings.
She reached into the cabinet for a new tube of toothpaste and knocked down a small pot into the sink. The pot broke open, spilling capsules onto the porcelain.
“Shit!” A couple vanished down the plug hole before she’d managed to scoop them up again. Another couple already started to dissolve in the small pool of water gathered around the plug. “Fuck it,” she swore again as she did her best to scoop them up and put the ones that weren’t ruined back in the small plastic pot. She had to leave the half dissolved ones as a lost cause, but managed to retrieve the rest and put the pot back in the medicine cabinet. She’d need to get a repeat prescription, which was annoying. The doctor always acted suspiciously of her, as though she was taking too many or selling them out on the streets. She understood that he could see her medical file, and had good reason to be cautious of her, but years had passed now. At what point was she going to be allowed a clean slate?
She finished getting ready for bed then went into her room and slipped between the sheets. Her thoughts drifted to the man she’d spent the better part of the evening with. Would she hear from him again? It was hard to tell. Quite often the men she thought were the keenest were the ones who completely vanished off the radar once the night was up. She didn’t want to get her hopes up only to have them dashed. A guy like him was too good for someone like her. He was way out of her league, and he’d probably get home and realise that.
As she reached out to switch off her bedside lamp, her phone buzzed.
Had a great time tonight. Hope we can repeat it again soon. Michael. X.
She studied that kiss and smiled.