AWKWARD

 

I’m rudely awoken by a repetitive thudding noise. Dragging my tired eyes open, I see it’s still pitch black outside.

What the….

The thudding continues so I drag my body upright and grab the baseball bat I keep by the bed. As a child living with my mother, I always felt safer sleeping with a weapon. There were so many late night callers. So many strange men. I only had to use it once.

Heading to the front door on tip-toe, I peek out through the spy-hole. The dark shape is unrecognisable but it’s not Lucy. All I can see is the top of a man’s head, he must be leaning against the door.

Max? My heart pounds. Now, my eyes are fully open and straining to see in the darkness. Who the hell is that? The thudding continues, making me jump.

I tip-toe into my bedroom to find my phone. It’s not here. Heading back to the lounge, I rummage around in my bag and coat pockets, but I can’t find it. Shit! Where the hell is my bloody phone?

“Vivienne… Viv, it’s me.”

I freeze when I hear Mike’s slurred voice resonating through the door. What the hell is he doing here at this time of night?

“Viv, please.”

Relaxing a little, I lower the bat to my side. “What do you want?”

“I just want to talk to you.”

“Mike, you’re drunk. Go home and sleep it off, we’ll talk tomorrow.”

Listening intently at the door, I wait for his response. For a moment it’s totally quiet then I hear a scuffle and after that, I hear him crying. What the hell is he doing?

Laying the bat against the door frame, I hit the light switch and open the door. Mike is sitting on the floor slumped against the wall, sobbing.

“What are you doing?” I ask, in a loud whisper. The last thing I need is my neighbours hearing this.

His watery eyes wander up to my face, not able to fully focus. He’s so drunk.

“Come on, Mike. You can’t stay here. Come on, get up.”

I offer him both hands to help him to his feet. He staggers up and sways, wiping his eyes.

For fuck’s sake. I really need all this.

Grabbing his sleeve, I lead him into the kitchen and pull out a chair for him.

“Sit.”

He collapses into it resting his elbows on the table and his head in his hands. “I’m going to make you some coffee. And then I’m going to order you a cab.”

I turn away from him to fill the coffee machine, but then I decide to make instant, it’ll be much quicker.

“You were with him tonight, weren’t you?” His voice is clipped, and angry.

I stop what I’m doing, but don’t turn to acknowledge his question. How the bloody hell does he know?

“Lucy took great pleasure in telling me all about your rich fucking boyfriend when I bumped into her tonight.”

“So?” I’m annoyed with his stupid jealousy. Especially now there’s no reason to be jealous. But he was the one who cheated on me. He’ll have to live it.

Setting his mug down in front of him, he reaches out for my hand but I pull away from him and sit on the opposite side of the table. “What do you want, Mike?”

He looks at me defiantly, pinning me with red-rimmed, semi-focused eyes. “You.”

I huff out an exasperated sigh. “Too late.”

He doesn’t take my reply very well, pulling a face and shaking his head.

“Look Mike —”

“Do you love him?” His expression is deadly serious, his fists balling up on the table.

My heart clenches. I think I fell in love with Max the moment I set eyes on him. And how strange? That’s the same question Max asked me about Mike.

“It’s none of your business. Drink your coffee, I’ll order you a cab.”

I rise to search through my bag and pockets again looking for my phone. Where the bloody hell is it?

When I come back to the kitchen, Mike’s chair is empty. I look to the front door, it’s wide open. Relieved that he’s gone, I dump our mugs into the sink and head back to bed.

~

My senses are assaulted by the shrill noise of my alarm clock.

Huh?…..Shut the fuck up.

Reaching over, I thump the annoying little cube several times, before finally hitting the snooze.

My brain seems to wake up before the function of opening my eyelids has finally got its act together. Giving up on the challenge, I lie there with the images of last night whirring around my head in glorious Technicolour.

As the memories flood back, my butterflies spring to life. I can still smell him on me. It’s silly, but I feel a sense of loss. I know I’ll never see Max again, and it hurts. This thought prompts my eyelids to ping open and I lay there staring at the ceiling.

As the alarm clock kicks into its second, more annoying round of noises, I switch it off and haul myself out of bed.

After a refreshing shower, I stand facing the bathroom mirror, brushing my teeth. My mind is replaying all of last night over and over in my head. Did I really have dinner in Rome last night? It all seems a bit far-fetched, but unless I’ve totally lost my mind, yeah, I did.

Memories of our amazing moments in the lift and the kitchen give me butterflies. The memory of his touch, his lips, and the hunger in his eyes makes me quiver.

My phone!

I suddenly remember him taking it out of my bra. I must have left it in his kitchen. “Shit!” Little white dots of toothpaste spray the mirror.

Dressing in a navy pencil skirt and cap-sleeve, baby blue blouse, I search the depths of my wardrobe to find my navy suede heels which complete my outfit.

Curling, then piling my hair up, I pin it into a fancy up-do. A quick application of mascara and lip gloss and I’m done.

I’ve made myself as pretty as possible in the hope that I’ll get to see Max once more, if only to retrieve my phone from his apartment but it’s a great excuse to see him again, no matter how futile. My butterflies make an appearance, and an excited smile creeps across my lips.

I decide to go to Foxx-Tech Global on my way to work. I’m super nervous. He’s invaded my mind constantly since last night. And whether I get to see him or not, I still need my phone.

Arriving at the grand entrance of the Foxx-Tech building, I begin to feel hesitant. A man in front of me pushes the door open, beckoning me inside. “After you,” he smiles.

“Thanks.” Taking a deep breath, I walk in and wander over to the reception desk, to the girls in black and grey uniforms, perfectly groomed hair, and headsets.

One of them looks up at me as I approach. “Good morning. Welcome to Foxx-Tech Global, how may I help you today?” Her corporate tone and pleasant smile does nothing to calm my nerves.

“Er. I’d like to see Mr. Foxx.”

“Do you have an appointment Miss…?”

“Banks. Vivienne Banks. No. I’m afraid I don’t.”

She regards me with an apologetic smile. I know she’s trying to tell me politely that you don’t get to see him without an appointment.

“Actually, erm, I left my phone in Mr. Foxx’s penthouse last night and I just want to get it back if that’s okay.” My cheeks flush wondering how many times she’s heard that excuse. Her knowing look makes me cringe inside.

“One moment, Miss Banks. Let me see what I can do.” Dropping her eyes to her screen, she presses some numbers on her keyboard while I fidget nervously.

“I have a Miss Banks in reception. She’s here to collect her phone…Yes, of course, I’ll send her up.” Ending the call, she smiles warmly and directs me to the bank of lifts at the far end of the lobby. “Please take the fifth elevator, marked ‘F1’, Miss Banks. I’ll send you straight up.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, have a nice day.”

Taking a deep breath, I make my way over to the lifts. The doors swish open as I approach, and I’m the only one in it as the doors close and the lift ascends.

As it rises to the penthouse, so does my angst. I really wanted to see him again, but now I’m flooded with nerves.

Checking my appearance in the mirrored walls, I look anxious but pretty, if a little pale.

The soft ding announcing my arrival at the penthouse stirs my butterflies who are doing aerial acrobatics like crazy. Entering the penthouse foyer, I hesitantly approach the double doors.

After taking a moment to calm my nerves with a couple of deep breaths, I raise my hand to knock but before my knuckles reach the door, it opens.

“Miss Banks. Please, come in.”

Oh, shit. I stand there in my frozen posture with one hand raised ready to knock, eyes wide, and mouth open. Monica is standing before me dressed only in a man’s shirt, her long red hair draped over one shoulder. She doesn’t have a speck of makeup on, and she looks absolutely stunning.

“Oh, ah, I’m sorry, I just, erm….Just came to pick up my phone.” My nerves have made it impossible to speak without stuttering over every word.

She smiles at me graciously. “Yes, I know. Please, come in.”

I cautiously enter and wait just inside the doorway, fidgeting nervously with my handbag. I wasn’t expecting her to be here. This is awkward.

“Please. Come in, Vivienne,” she says, walking toward the kitchen. As she walks ahead, with her long shapely legs exposed beneath one of Max’s dress shirts, I notice a small tattoo on her ankle, a cute little bumble bee.

“You’ll have to excuse me,” she says, over her shoulder, “we weren’t expecting anyone this early.”

We? Shit! They’re back together.

Following her into the kitchen, I begin to wish I’d just gone out and bought a new bloody phone. Max is probably upstairs in bed waiting for her to get rid of me so they can get back to whatever it was I’ve interrupted. This is so humiliating.

“Please, have a seat.” Pointing to one of the stools at the island, she gestures for me to sit down. “Would you care for some tea?”

“Oh, no. Thanks.” I just want to get out of here as quickly as possible.

Not wishing to crumple to the floor in an anxious heap, I perch on the edge of a stool. Monica walks to the far side of the kitchen, opens a drawer in one of the units, removes something, and walks back toward me.

“Here.” She hands me my phone.

I press the home button, but the screen remains dark.

“I found it this morning when we got back from the hospital,” she says, flicking her hair. “I think it needs charging.” Moving to the other side of the island, she takes a seat.

She obviously knows I was here last night, and now she’s mentioned the hospital I’m guessing she knows I’m aware of what happened. Do I ignore it? It’s not really any of my business.

I can feel her eyes on me so I nervously look up. She’s calm and composed but it feels like she’s sizing me up.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” I blush as the voice in my head calls me a big fat liar.

She sighs, her green eyes still trailing over my face. “Yes. I’m sorry you had to witness that, Vivienne.” Her smile is gracious, but there’s not a flicker of sincerity in her eyes. “It was…well…it was very foolish of me. Please accept my apology.”

“Oh, there’s no need to apologise, I mean, it’s none of my business.”

Desperate to leave, I’m almost on my feet when she leans over and places her hand over mine, urging me to sit. Her skin is cool, or maybe I’m just warm with the flush of humiliation.

Her cat-like smile is unnerving. “I’m sorry you got caught up in all this, Vivienne. Max can be very impulsive. I’m sure he didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, but he and I, well, in spite of it all, we have an unbreakable bond that always brings us back together.”

I should move. I should go. But her confident smile and penetrating eyes seem to immobilise me.

Removing her hand from mine, she smooths her silky locks over one shoulder. Then her smug smile and condescending gaze travels the length of me before her eyes land back on mine.

“Max loves me, he’s always loved me. And he always will. I don’t know why I ever doubted it.”

I can feel myself shrinking under the weight of her stare and I get the distinct impression I’ve just been dismissed.

She knows I was with Max last night and she’s firmly marking her territory. I take an instant dislike to her. She’s so calculating and self assured. No shouting. No name calling. Just her cool confidence radiating superiority over me in volumes.

But how can I blame her? I saw the way he looked at her last night, he’s clearly still in love with her. She’s just as stunning to look at as he is, they’re a perfect match. And here she is. In his penthouse. In his shirt. Looking very much at home. Who am I kidding?

Feeling like the air has just been knocked out of me, I stand up. “Erm…thanks for this,” I say, waving my phone in the air. “I’d better go, I’ll see myself out.”

As fast as my shaking legs will take me, I hastily walk out of the kitchen toward the double doors.

“Goodbye, Vivienne.”

I can almost hear the smug smile she undoubtedly has on her face.

Leaving the penthouse, I close the door behind me and rest my back against it. My heart is racing, hot tears prick my eyes, and my whole body trembles.

You stupid, stupid idiot!

That was, without doubt, the most awkward and humiliating situation I’ve ever put myself through.

Gathering myself together, I rush toward the lift and repeatedly press the call button, cursing myself for coming here. The doors open and I step inside, only relaxing when they close and I’m on my own.

Shit! Fuck! Bollocks!

~

I arrive at my office building totally deflated. I didn’t get to see Max, but I’m glad in a way. Having him confirm to my face that they’re back together would have been the ultimate humiliation.

Making my way up to my floor, I head for my desk. Even from the door, I can see a pile of files waiting for me. My heart sinks. I just want to go home, unwrap a large bar of chocolate, and wallow in self-pity. I’ll be glad when I’m set free from the office and back out on location.

Clive spins around from the coffee machine carrying two cups and sporting a huge grin. We meet on route to my desk, he’s almost vibrating with excitement.

“I want to hear all the gory details, Vivienne. Not a morsel of information should be left out. I want the whole enchilada on Mr. Foxx.”

I stare at him vacantly. How the bloody hell does he know about my date?

“Did you bump into Lucy, by any chance?”

He looks surprised, although his eyebrows remain static. “Yeah, I bumped into her and Dan on the subway.”

Laughing, I shake my head. “You still haven’t got the London-speak quite right yet, have you? It’s the Tube. Subway is a sandwich.”

Huffing his disapproval, he narrows his eyes. “Oh, well, you know what I mean. And stop trying to change the subject. Lucy told me you had a dinner date with Mr. Fantastic. So? How was it?” Grinning like an idiot he flashes all his perfectly white, immaculately straight teeth.

Arriving at my desk, I throw my bag on it and my coat over the back of my chair. Clive drags over a chair for himself, impatiently waiting for me to give him all the gossip.

“Well?”

A small smile of satisfaction spreads over my lips. Although I know my short-lived relationship with Mr. Foxx is over, it was the best night of my life. I choose to ignore the way the evening ended, that still stings like a bastard and this morning was definitely the final blow. But humiliation aside, I’m still reeling from the excitement of having dinner in Rome with the hottest guy on the planet. I don’t know how, but I can still smell him on me.

It becomes apparent that I’m not going to get rid of Clive until I’ve at least given him some of the details, so I tell him all about the jet and the restaurant in Rome which delights him immensely.

“Goddammit, Vivienne, if you ain’t the luckiest girl on the planet. Did you kiss him?...Did you, you know, do a little bump and grind?”

I look up at him, blushing and cringing.

“Oh, my God. You bumped uglies?”

His squealing voice is attracting some attention so I glare at him to shut him up.

“Clive, for fuck’s sake.”

Thankfully, those who had looked over are now getting back to their work.

Giving Clive the stink-eye and lowering my voice, I continue. “We kissed… We nearly…but...” I trail off. Now all I can see in my mind is the look on Max’s face when he was gazing down at Monica in his arms. Nope, don’t want to see that again.

Clive leans in toward me. “Whassup?”

My shoulders sag. I’m going to have to tell him.

“His ex showed up.” I don’t choose to elaborate on how, I can’t relive that at the moment.

“You shittin’ me?”

Glancing up, I see him looking almost as distressed as I feel. “I think he’s still in love with her too,” I add, cringing.

“Shut the fuck up.” He leans in even closer. “How do you know?”

“It’s a long story.” Over Clive’s shoulder, I see Sandra from the front desk heading our way so I shoo him away. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

He rises reluctantly with a pout. “Sure, sweetie. See you later.”

Sandra and Clive say ‘hi’ as they pass each other then she stops at my desk, holding out a large brown parcel.

“This was just left for you at the front desk.”

The wrapping is plain and only carries my name on the label.

“Thanks, Sandra.”

I stare at the package for a while, wondering what it could be, then I start to pick the tape off the wrapper. When I open the box inside my heart sinks. My new passport lies on top. Opening the pages, I see the Italian stamp sitting all on its own inside. The photograph is a recent one. When did he get that?

Underneath my passport, there’s a small, white, handwritten note lying on top of a large brown envelope. I take the note and unfold it.

I’m sorry.

M.F.

Staring down at it, my heart sinks at the thought of never seeing him again.

Clive’s hand on my shoulder startles me. “What is it, Viv?”

I hand the note up to him on a long and weary sigh. “It’s the end of a very short relationship.” I’m trying not to care but failing miserably.

“Well,” he huffs, folding his arms across his chest. “We should have known better with initials like that. Mother. Fucker.” He laughs, then stops abruptly when he notices I’m not laughing along with him. “Damn shame, though.”

Yeah. Damn shame.

I pick up the large brown envelope, I have no idea what this is. Opening it up, I pull out the contents. It’s a framed image of my eye scan. It’s incredible. How did he know?

Clive leans over my shoulder to get a closer look. “What’s that sweetie?”

“Peace offering.”

“Yeah, but what is it?”

“It’s a picture of my eye.”

“Euuuwww.”

I flip the frame over and notice there’s writing on the back.

You have the most beautiful eyes.

I stare at his perfectly neat handwriting, remembering the very same words he spoke to me as a sense of loss makes my heart clench.

Grabbing my phone from my coat pocket, I try to turn it on but the battery is completely dead so I take my charger from the drawer and hook it up.

Unwillingly, I set about clearing the files from my desk. Still, it helps to keep my mind off of you know who?

I’m just about to email some photographs to the editing department, when I notice my phone illuminate as it begins vibrating on the desk. It’s finally back to life.

I’ve got twelve missed calls, several text messages, and two voice-mails. The missed calls are mostly from Mike and two are from Lucy, but there are also four missed calls from a private number. Checking the call log, I see they were all made late last night and early this morning.

Eagerly checking the texts, I sag when I realise they’re all from Mike, with varying levels of drunken chit-chat.

Taking a deep breath, I dial the voice-mail service. My heart leaps when I hear Max’s voice.

“Vivienne… Ah, I’m sorry… I… I’m so sorry…”

“Oh. That’s all?” I choose the save option, I don’t know why, then I wait patiently for the second message to kick in.

“You could be due up to seven thousand pounds compensation from PPI...”

“Oh, piss off!”

~

The morning drags. Concentrating on anything has been difficult.

Thankfully, lunchtime rolls around eventually so I grab my coat and leave the office, there’s a large glass of wine with my name on it at the bar across the street.

As I sit alone drowning my sorrows in a quiet corner of the bar, I see Clive and Sandra wandering in. Crap. I don’t want company.

Clive gives me a wave so I raise my wine glass in salute, forcing myself to smile back. Sandra begins chatting to her friends so Clive wanders over once he’s been served.

“Whassup sweetie?”

“Nothing.”

Luckily my phone rings, ending the conversation, but it’s Lucy, and I’m not ready to answer the million questions she’s bound to ask me about last night.

“Well? Do I take it that you didn’t answer my calls because you were…busy?” she giggles, emphasising the word busy.

I don’t want to go through it all here, especially not in front of Clive.

“Luce, can we do this later?” I make sure to keep my voice as light and airy as possible but the pause before she answers informs me she’s detected my reluctance.

“Sure, I’ll see you after work…everything okay?”

“Not really.”

“Oh dear. Are we talking wine or chocolate?”

“Both.”

“Bummer. I’m on it, see you later, Viv.”

Clive does his best to cheer me up and when Luke arrives, I use it as an excuse to leave them alone and head off to the high street. A bit of retail therapy always helps.

~

The rest of the afternoon drags. All I can think about is last night. By four thirty I’ve managed to clear all the work from my desk so I head home.

After changing into my comfies, I tidy my room, then prepare some nibbles for me and Lucy, she’s bound to come straight up to my flat after work, the curiosity will be killing her.

I prepare some party food, wine, and ice cream. Always the best for when you’re down in the dumps.

Lucy arrives at six-thirty and does a quick change into the polka dot onesie she brought with her. We slouch on the sofa with our wine and a huge spread of calorie laden food.

“Okay,” she says, with a sympathetic smile, “tell me everything.”

I had given Clive the abridged version earlier today, but Lucy gets the whole deal, warts and all. She patiently listens without butting in, just the occasional nod and shake of the head. I have her full attention throughout, not normal for Lucy, but I’m grateful to get it all off my chest uninterrupted.

“Shit, Viv. That’s awful. Why didn’t you call me?”

“I left my bloody phone at his house, didn’t I.” The memory of our steamy moment in his kitchen, mangles my heart, I was so happy then.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I forgot.” A frown lowers over her eyes. “I can’t believe he’s dumped you for her, especially after she shagged his brother. Men! Can’t trust ‘em. Can’t kill ‘em. Friggin’ useless.”

“Mike didn’t call me today.” I stuff another sausage roll into my mouth, mumbling around it when I continue. “I thought he might, after turning up last night… This morning… Whenever it was. All his missed calls were yesterday before he showed up drunk.”

Lucy pulls her fuck-him face. “Viv, you don’t need Mike in your life anymore. And by the sound of it, you don’t need Max either. Tossers. I can’t believe he’d just leave you like that. Not even making sure you got home alright. What a bastard.”

I must admit, he’d been so attentive all night that it had shocked me too when I realised he was just going to leave me like that. How humiliating.

A thought furrows my brow. “I could never take Mike back after he cheated on me, I know that for sure. But what I can’t understand is why Max would take Monica back after she left him for his brother.” That thought has been bothering me all day.

“Well, you know these crazy Americans are all a bit fucked-up, don’t you? It’s all that popcorn and candy, it sends them a bit bonkers.”

Refilling my glass, she leans back against the sofa, staring at me for a while before speaking. “You know what? I don’t know anyone as strong as you are, Viv.”

My eyebrows spring up in sarcastic protest.

“I mean it. You’ve survived your shit-bag of a mother’s drug addictions. Her, and all her numerous nob-head boyfriends trying to fleece you for money.”

We simultaneously roll our eyes at that remark.

“And then, the death of your father. Christ. You’ve been through shit-loads of…shit. And you’ve always come through it. You’re a fighter. Mike and Max don’t deserve you.” Lucy’s eyes glisten as she reaches over, squeezing my hand.

“Yeah.” I appreciate the sentiment but her words don’t help.

“Anyway,” Lucy says, trying to lighten the moment, “think yourself lucky you’re not Joan from the nail salon. That poor cow’s been blown out more times than a windsock.”

We burst into giggles, then gorge on the snacks. Finishing off another bottle of wine, I try to put him out of my mind. For good.