All of me
Authors: S Michaels
All
of me
by
S Michaels
Text
copyright © 2014
P
Shelley
All
Rights Reserved
I am thrust forward with a jolt. ‘Are
you freaking kidding me?’ I fume, recovering immediately glaring into the
mirror to view the car behind. I unclasp my seat belt and attempt to grab the
handle of the door before it is yanked open.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ yells a
masculine voice above me.
My icy glare moves upwards into a pair of
equally cold, hazel eyes outlined by black spikey lashes, ‘you hit me
arsehole!’ I yell incredibly, as I unfold myself from the driver seat onto the
road, my hand finding my hip as I challenge the owner of the angry voice.
‘What the hell did you stop for, there
wasn’t a vehicle in sight?’ he fumes, his lips pulled tight against his perfect
teeth.
‘I stopped, you egotistical maniac,
because there is a stop sign,’ Emily couldn’t help but become distracted by the
stranger’s hard, yet handsome face.
He runs a hand over his short, dark, crew
cut hair that matches his five o clock shadow before sighing, ‘are you ok?’
‘Well gee thanks, shouldn’t that have
been the first question?’ I mutter sarcastically.
His gaze lingers for a moment too long,
his eyes assessing me sending my insides fluttering, ‘of course, I am sorry are
you alright?’ he softens.
‘Fine! Thank you,’ I fluster, as I purposely
move my glance back at the sleek car stationed behind me, before inspecting my vehicle.
I exhale a breath in frustration.
He follows, examining the damage, ‘I think
you came off worse,’ he winces.
‘You think Einstein?’ I moan, pushing a
hand through my long, brown locks.
‘Ok, well I can arrange a tow to a garage,’
he is scrutinizing his own vehicle, which I now realize is a Porsche.
‘I cannot be late for work,’ I groan. I
am a temp and commence a new assignment this morning at a large Company in the
city, ‘it’s my first day!’ I glare up at him emphasizing the urgency.
He holds his hands up in defense, ‘I can arrange
a cab for you.’
‘Why, oh, why?’ I mumble locating my
mobile phone, calling through to the agency to inform them of my late arrival.
The persistent honking of horns fills the
atmosphere as a line of vehicles begin to form behind the accident scene.
‘We need to move to the side,’ he utters,
distracting me, as I end the call. I climb into my Vauxhall Corsa, and pull over
to the pavement ignoring the slight crunching sound of my bumper trailing
behind me. I collect my mobile phone and exit the car once again attempting to
calm my insides.
‘Ok,’ I blurt out frustrated, determined
to end this encounter and get to work ASAP, ‘can I take your name and insurance
company please.’
‘I have called a tow truck to deliver
your car to a reputable garage and will, of course, cover all the costs,’ he
ignores me ‘if you leave your keys with me, I will ensure the safe arrival of
your vehicle.’
‘Name?’ I raise an eyebrow towards the
immaculately dressed man. I have noticed that he is dressed in grey slacks and
a pristine white shirt, rolled up at the arms. The picture itself is a
contradiction to his mean, moody face, he should be dressed in jeans and a
leather jacket. His hazel eyes harden towards me, as if he is daring me to
ignore him again.
I feel anger bubbling up inside me as I
raise my mobile phone and take a picture of first his face, then his car
registration number.
‘What the….’ His shocked expression
amuses me and I cannot prevent a grin appearing on my face.
‘Well, if you aren’t going to provide a
name, I require proof of who you are, that reminds me are there any witnesses.’
I search around for someone, anyone to confirm my statement of events incase Mr
Mean and Moody decides to alter his plea.
‘Seriously, are you deranged or
something?’ he utters exasperated, ‘I already expressed my guilt and offered to
cover the full expense of the repair of your vehicle.’
‘You say that now,’ I glance up
stubbornly.
‘Where are you from, for goodness sake,
that you have experienced such mistrust?’ he furies.
A tow truck pulls in behind us diverting
our attention. Mr Mean and Moody struts over shaking hands with the mechanic.
Fifteen minutes later, my car is on the
back of a tow truck. I have the paperwork ensuring its safety and the
reassurance from the mechanic that he will have it delivered to my address by
the end of the week. Great, a week of public transport.
‘So Miss Taylor, again I apologize for
the inconvenience caused by the event,’ he holds out his hand for me to shake. I
move to take his hand before I stop.
‘You still haven’t informed me of your
name,’ I cock my head to the side frowning, ‘I think I deserve to know, in case
the police wish to contact you.’
He shakes his head impatiently, ‘Matthew
Ritchie,’ he sighs. I place my hand in his.
‘Thank you!’ I murmur, his warm hand
feeling delicious against mine, ‘now, that wasn’t so bad was it?’ I tease.
‘Your cab has arrived,’ he ignores me, ‘I
have arranged with the garage to drop off a courtesy car to you this evening,
until yours is fixed,’ he adds.
‘Oh thank you,’ I smile up genuinely,
before I enter into the waiting cab. It isn’t until we have driven away do I
glance back at the tall, handsome man entering his, not so damaged car, exhaling
a breath in admiration.
Matt Ritchie enters into the driver seat
of his Porsche rubbing a hand over his face. What an infuriating woman, with
her suspicious mind and body to die for. Her hair is long and dark, her eyes
the color of copper, her lips, soft and kissable covered in a pink gloss. She
must stand at around five foot five, him towering well above her with his six
foot two. Her personality, however, believes it is six foot, a feisty one
that’s for sure!
I do love a woman with real curves, these
bony model types do nothing for me at all. Miss Emily Taylor, has real curves
in her short black skirt and teal blouse softly clinging to her round breasts.
‘You need to get laid Ritchie,’ he scolds
himself aloud, ‘it has been way too long,’ he puts a call through to his
office, ‘Martha, can you reschedule my 9am please.’
‘Certainly Mr Ritchie.’
Emily walks through the door of her tiny
one bedroom flat, over the large garage of her sister and brother in laws, huge
four bedroomed house. The garage had been converted just before they married
last year, despite Emily’s insistence that she was quite capable of managing
her own living arrangements. Most people take umbrage to Emily’s attitude, her
sister however disregards it. She is aware that it is purely a defense
mechanism used specifically when anyone indicates the tiniest hint of empathy,
sympathy or kindness.
Emily and Lucy Taylor spent the majority
of their teenage years in foster care due to the passing of their mother to
cancer, some years previous. Their father departed when they were both
toddlers and had not been around since, rumor had it that he had been having an
affair for a considerable amount of time and is presently residing in Devon,
with his partner and their three children.
There was a time, in the past, when the
pair of them would scrutinize the internet in the distant hope that they would re-discover
him. They spent hours romanticizing how he had been driving the length of the
country in desperation, eager to locate them but as time passed they realized
they had remained within the same county, if he did indeed wish to contact them,
he probably could have. It is then that they erected the solid walls around their
hearts and concluded it was the two of them against the world.
That was until Lucy met Tom eighteen
months ago and fell head over heels in love with him, resulting in their swift
wedding, a year ago. Tom was a corporate lawyer who although, a hard faced
business man in the workplace, in the presence of his wife melted absorbing her
quiet strength.
Lucy was softer than Emily, but also wore
the scars of their years in the care system, they shared a lack of trust in the
human race. They were both cautious of any display of kindness, certain the
owner most probably had an ulterior motive.
Although Emily was ecstatic that Lucy had
found happiness, she felt slightly abandoned as she sensed her sister
unintentionally detach the closer she became to her husband. Tom though,
embraced Emily as a younger sister and through his love for his wife persevered
with her to eventually gain her trust.
Emily, being a year older than Lucy, took
on the role of guardian early on in her life so when Tom purchased the property
and invited Emily to live with them, she declined fervently, insisting that she
was no one’s third wheel and required her own space.
The foster system had given them a local
authority flat when they reached a certain age where they had survived, for a
number of years, until Tom’s arrival. Emily insisted she would stay in the
rundown property alone, but Lucy refused even suggesting she turn Tom down
rather than leave her in that flea bitten flat.
So Tom had found a compromise and had a
flat built over the garage where Emily could come and go independently with her
own front door and parking space. Eventually Emily had agreed, on the proviso,
she pay a suitable amount per week rent and that she wasn’t a charity case.
Kicking off her shoes Emily drops her bag
on the table and switches on the kettle for a cup of tea, ‘bloody public
transport,’ she grumbles reaching for a mug. She was an hour late for her job
this morning, although it could have been worse under the circumstances. This
position was a Reception job for twelve weeks, whilst the original post holder
was on maternity leave. Reception wasn’t her favorite placement, but she took
what she could to pay the rent. All that smiling and welcoming visitors took a
lot of effort for Emily, not to mention how boring she found it passing calls
through continuously. She preferred to be sitting inconspicuously behind a
computer.
The doorbell chimes, imagining it was
probably Lucy she jogs down the stairs and flings the door open.
‘Miss Taylor?’ a voice enquired.
‘Yes,’ I frown, gazing up at the blonde, suit
clad man, a clipboard in his grasp.
‘I have a courtesy car for you Miss,’ the
young man explained, ‘could you sign here please,’ he holds out the clipboard
and I squiggle on the dotted line.
‘Ok, thank you,’ I accept the key,
smiling politely at the young man.
The man trots away and I glance up at my
sister, who appears behind him, ‘where’s your car?’ she asks, her face anxious.
‘Come in. Bloody man hit the back of me
this morning, on the way to my new placement,’ I explain as we trot up the
steep stairs.
‘Oh no, are you ok?’ she worries.
‘Fine, he was obviously going too fast,
but admitted liability. He towed my car to the garage for repair.’ I express
as we reach my living room.
‘He knocked at the main house, I directed
him over but was confused as to why he was delivering a car.’ She explains her unexpected
appearance.
‘You look tired,’ I tilt my head to the
side observing my baby sister with concern.
‘I got my period,’ she appears
miserable. Lucy and Tom have been trying to get pregnant since their wedding
night, without success, they have had tests which exposed that Lucy has
Endometriosis, which can affect fertility, not to mention the awful cramps she
experiences.
‘Oh I am sorry sis,’ I hug her tightly,
‘it just doesn’t seem fair, you have all this love to give….’
‘I know,’ she sniffs, as the tears roll
down her cheek.
‘Come on Luce, this isn’t like you, you
are the positive one,’ I remind her hugging her close again.
‘I just feel so wretched Emily, I think I
am going to have to have the surgery,’ she moves away wiping her eyes.
