Your Red Always (4 page)

I take a quick break halfway through my shift, while Shell takes a delivery from Brown’s Bakery. I’m stood at the backdoor for some air. I really could do with a cigarette right now. To fill my lungs with catarrh, and experience that instant calming hit. But I’ll stick with a strong coffee. I can’t start now; not after being smoke-free for almost two years, no matter how shitty my day is. 

I hold the envelope in my hand and stare at it. May as well open it to see what I have to live off until I find another job. I pull out a letter, stating when the shop closes, and when it will re-open. Also the possibility of internal interviews for existing staff. I laugh to myself. No one who works here should have to be interviewed for a job they already do. It’s a joke. I pull out a check for the amount of one-thousand pound. Enough to cover three week’s rent, but not food. I close my eyes, stuff the check into my pocket, and pour my cold coffee down the drain as I make my way inside.

I serve my last customer of the day as Racheal gets ready to take over. I put on my jacket, when Nathan swaggers through the door, removing his grey scarf. I sigh, altering my collar.

“Liz.” He notes my sombreness.

I silently close the hatch, and with my head down, make my way out onto the street. I didn’t want cry in the shop, and knew the moment he asked me what was wrong, I’d end up blubbering in there.

I hear Nathan’s breathing as he catches up with me. “Liz.” He takes my hand to stop me in my tracks. “What’s up?” His eyes crinkle with concern.

“I have no job… as from next week.” I let out a tear.

It’s knocked me in a big way, like the end of an era, and I’ll miss it. Given, it’s a messy job, and I often smell like a sweaty old man when I’ve finished my shift. But it’s my own bit of independence in this big city. It’s daunting to think I’ve got to start over.

Nathan takes me in his arms, and I need it. I need to feel the comfort of a man’s touch.

He draws away from my body in alarm. “Stop it Liz.”

He knows. He probably sensed it from the way I ran my hand over his neck in a needy way. I didn’t mean to. Right now, I’m feeling as chaotic as a monkey with a knife and fork.

“You’re better than that place anyway,” he says, sweeping his thumb over my wet cheek. “It was a stepping stone, that’s all. Something on your way up.” I look down at the icy pavement. “Tonight I’m taking you out,” he says, matter of fact, softly pushing up my chin.

I grumble. I’m in no mood to be painting the town red. “No Nathan… I can’t.”

“Yes, and you can’t refuse,” he insists. “Remember the good old days,” he smiles.

I chuckle. “Not very much.”

“There it is.” He brushes his fingers down my cheek, smiling tenderly. “Well, we are going out. We’ll drink the bar dry, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll treat you to a kebab smothered in garlic sauce on our way home.” He pecks my forehead. “Now you know you can’t refuse that.

“I can’t believe I’ve got to work,” Cate sulks, jangling the keys for Beryl.

She hates missing out on anything. Especially if it involves booze, men, and music. 

“Is your hair okay?” She asks. 

I let her free on my locks tonight. Otherwise I would be going out like I was, reeking of coffee. This time I gave specific orders. Loose curls, and no backcombing whatsoever. And the mood I’m in, she complied.

“Yeah,” I sigh, holding up the scanty dress she’s loaned me to wear.

“There’s just no pleasing some folk,” she witters in jealousy, opening the latch on the front door. “Liz,” she calls. “You go out and get laid, you deserve it.” My eyes revolve as she leaves. 

I step into the dress. It’s a black tight number that clings to every nook and cranny. I pull the straps up over my shoulders, and brush down my hips, trying to add a bit of length. If I can just get it an inch further down my thighs, I’ll be satisfied. 

I look in the mirror and turn sideways, sucking in my belly. I’ll do I suppose. I’m only going out with Nathan. He’ll probably just take me to Finley’s again, and serenade me on the karaoke all night.

I pull on my biker boots. Yes, that’s right, my comfy knee-length, black leather, fur-lined boots, that I have no difficulty walking in. Then I spray some Hugo Red on my black jacket to rid the work smell. I scrutinize myself for a moment, uncertain of my appearance. I look like I’m about to go to a rock concert. Oh, to hell with it. It’s winter anyway, and I’m sort of aiming for that punk look.

To say I wasn’t up for a night out, I’m now sat on the couch with a glass of white wine, waiting for Nathan. He’s late, three minutes to be precise, and if I have to wait another three, I’m not going. I bounce my restless legs, while clock watching.

There it is, with thirty seconds to spare, he knocks.

I open the door to see his eyes spark open. “Wow, check you out,” he jokes, swirling his finger like Gok Wan. “You is digging that look girl.”

“Shut up, Nathan.”

I shuffle by him and close the door, irritated because he’s being so upbeat. He alters the collar of his navy blue jacket over his cream polo shirt. 

“Maybe I should change.” He looks down, unimpressed with his attire.

“Come on.” I pull on his arm. “This was your idea… So don’t stall, or I’ll be going back in there.”

“Okay my lady, your carriage awaits.” He holds out his arm.

I frown. “Where we going?” 

“Ah-ah.” He taps his nose. “Away from here, where you’ll be ploughed with drink, and you can dance your heart out.” He grabs and tugs me eagerly, as I conclude Finley’s it is then.

                                                             ***

We’re in a black cab. I watch as we move by Aroma and Finley’s.
Hmm, at least I won’t be subjected to Nathan’s tone-deaf vocals tonight.
 

Snow begins to float down from the sky and melts as it hits the windscreen. Great, the white stuff looks pretty, but being in it without my thermals on, is not a great start to the night.

“Here.” Nathan shoves his vodka flask in front of my face. “Warm-up before we start.” I take the steel flask and wipe the rim he’s just drank from. “For fuck sake Liz, you’ve had your mouth around…”

“Nathan!” I gasp. “Shut up.” I gulp down two huge mouthfuls of Smirnoff; I’m going to need it.

“Whoa, easy girl.” Nathan snatch’s his liquor back, as I wipe a drop from the side of my lip.

The cab pulls up to the curb and I look straight ahead. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

I launch over Nathan’s knee and grasp at his flask again. I swig and wheeze out with vodka burn. I watch the spotlights dancing in the night sky, highlighting the sleet falling directly above Smiths Mill. There’s a queue of people waiting to get in that stretches the length of the street. The six story building has been adorned with lasers and lights. And is now simply called, The Mill. 

“What’s up?” He asks.

Okay Nathan, this is my problem. I know you and I used to sleep together, and you’re my best friend now. But the guy who owns that building, well, I would really like to do things with him, I never dreamt of doing with you. Of course I can tell him that; if he was like a thousand miles away, and on the telephone.

“Hey, you up for this?” He scowls, fighting to get the flask out of my mouth.

“Hmm,” I squeal as he snaps the flask from my sweaty hand. “Sure.” I quickly get out as he pays the driver.

Nathan links up to me as we hurry to the back of the queue with our heads down in the blustery snow. It’s absolutely freezing. Bitter. Nights like this are meant for staying at home with a nice cup of coco, and the heating on full.

I shiver as the line slowly grows smaller. I’d say ten percent of the people waiting, have been sent away. Kids with fake Id’s don’t cut it here. There are bollards and security staff, keeping us stringent military in order. 

I hoist my head as the snow turns to hail, and see security cameras rotating in all directions. The music booms from inside, and some of those waiting in the queue, being to yell at the staff about the length of time it’s taking to get inside.

“Opening night, bottle of free wine for every customer, it’s bound to bring out the crazies.” Nathan nods in the direction of some yob, trying his luck with a gargantuan bouncer.

A member of security staff approaches with his hand held over an earpiece. He stops on the other side of the thick red rope, and eyeballs Nathan up and down. Quickly, I unzip my bag so I can show him my driving licence, which clearly and truthfully states my date of birth, the 28th of June 1993.

“Miss Lovell.” He lifts the rope. “And sir.” He dips his head at Nathan. “Would you please follow me?”

Nathan scrunches his face. “Why?”

“Sir,” he nods. “Miss Lovell, you’re free to go inside,” he says.

Nathan utters in my ear, “How the fuck does he know your name?”

I bat my eyelids. My brain is freaking out. I shrug my arms and try to remain cool, as I silently curse myself for not running away. I should have never got out of that cab. Shit. I should have never left the flat.

“I don’t know.”

Nathan huffs, oblivious to my private meltdown, and bends under the rope. I glance up at the security camera. I’m suspiciously anxious. There’s a reason we’ve being given priority. Mr Knight has seen me through that lens. He must have. Oh god.

“Liz, come on.” Nathan bobs on the spot. “Freezing my manhood off here.”

I nervously follow as the people waiting furiously question why we’re being prioritised. 

We’re shown through a side door, and up a deep red painted staircase. The vibration of the music is felt on each step. We climb four floors, and with each one the beat reduces slightly.

Nathan pulls open the black double doors, and we enter a vast room full of city types mingling. It’s dark, nightclub dark, with a cool blue lit bar, and shelving full of popular and exotic liquors. In the centre of the room, there’s a brushed chrome rail in the shape of a large square. I run my hand over the cold metal, and see the jam packed dance floor three floors below.

“What do you want to drink Liz?” 

Nathan knows I don’t do wine in these places. Not only because it tastes like bitter vinegar, but I’ll be passing out within two hours.   

I look behind the bar. “Just get me a beer.”

He orders our drinks, while I discreetly scour the area for Mr Knight. Maybe he’s not here, and us being allowed in was just some gimmick for opening night. 

Nathan turns to me empty handed. “Let go sit… apparently this is the executive area, and they bring it to us.”

Several suits bound through the door, and I have to weave my steps to avoid a collision. Clearly uptown guys, who have just finished work at the stock exchange or something.

We find a booth. It’s tastefully decorated. Cream and gold damask seating, with contemporary glass panels in the walls, surrounding a black marble table with a chrome rimmed edge.

“Lighten up will you.” Nathan nudges me as we sit. “You’re making me depressed.”

He has no idea. I’m so nervous. I’m expecting Mr Knight to put in an appearance, and I have to prepare myself for it.

My eyes expand. Our waitress for the evening is none other than slutty Sara. She’s stood right there in her skirt and heels, holding our tray of drinks.

“Well fancy seeing you here,” Nathan says, like his night has been made.

“Your drinks.” She bends over the table. Her attitude is-
Here, have a good long look at my round rump Nathan
.

I’m in one of those awful awkward moments in which you become obscure. I am an irrelevant blip, stuck in-between two lusting players. I’m not going to let him do this to me again. If he expects me to play gooseberry all night, he’s got another thing coming.

“Thanks Sara,” I snap. “We’ll let you know if we need anything else.”

Nathan shifts back in his seat, drawing his eyes back into his head. He knows I’m pissed-off. 

“Yes, thanks Sara,” he smiles warily.

She takes a bottle of wine from the tray, reverting back to her role of waitress from lap dancer. “Compliments of Mr Knight.” She places two wine glasses next to the bottle and trots away.

I glance to the bar, and there he is, appealing to me in stealthy ways. He’s wearing black pressed trousers that dress his hips and thighs magnificently. His blue shirt is open at the top, and the sleeves rolled halfway up his shapely forearms. His hair. Oh his hair. I’ve never in my whole life had an urge like it. I want to course my fingers through it, down his neck, and over his face. This is turning into a disastrous night. I breathe out and turn my attention to the bottle. I need something to cool me down.

“Liz… let me.”

Nathan sees me getting frustrated because I can’t open the stupid bottle. He pops out the cork with ease, and pours me a glass. It’s red. I don’t like red.

“Here, I’ll go ask them to change it.” Nathan stands up with the bottle.

I see Mr Knight watching. “No!” I take it from him. “It’s free, don’t want to be picky… besides I’ll give it a go. Alcohol’s alcohol.”

I take a swig and sigh out. I’m instantly taken back to that first oppressive conversation with Mr Knight. This is his personal stash, vintage, and very expensive. While taking another sip, I stare over my glass at his pert backside as he lean over the bar.

“Like it then?” Nathan asks.

“It’s perfect,” I say, secretly referring to my view.

“Hey, you okay… you seem a bit… I don’t know, in a different place?” He asks, touching my knee.

He really shouldn’t have his hand on there, he’s distracting me. Perhaps I need distraction. I consume what’s left in my glass.

“I fine,” I squeak, pouring another.

                                                              ***

I’ve devoured the whole bottle to myself, and it’s helping me a great deal. Nathan has hit the vodka and has been getting a tad rowdy. He’s been trying to get me up dancing for the last hour. But this is the classy area, no one dances here. Yet. 

My head’s a little woozy; the good kind of woozy. I’m all relaxed and giggly. Nathan is up there right now in front of me, doing the cha-cha slide. The song’s dreadful, but his moves are fantastic and very entertaining.

“Liz.” Nathan’s eyes follow slutty Sara as she goes by. I scowl at him. “Okay,” he laughs. “I’m all yours,” he yells. “Dance with me.” He hiccups.

Mr Knight walks by and my eyes tail him. “In a bit… Just going to the bathroom.” 

You can do this Liz. Go thank him for the wine. Just don’t be all soppy eyed about it. Sophistication is key.

I squeeze through a crowd of people blocking my way. The ladies bathroom is to my left, but Mr Knight is moving to the right. I’m at a defining crossroads and pause.
Shit Liz, just move. I’m sure you can string a thank you together.

I call after him, but he doesn’t hear. In my head I’m very ready and able. I can flirt, mentally seduce. God. I have plenty of subconscious ideas on how to talk to this man. All of them require a good amount of alcohol to pull off. 

I follow him to a booth where he chats to two half-naked women. I don’t like it. How dare they touch his hand in that whorish way.
There’s still time, just turn back, and walk away
. But no, for some stupid inexplicable reason, maybe the wine, I’m now stood next to him. He glares, his eyes thin, like I’ve just committed the crime of interruption.

He draws a breath, pursing his slick red lips. “Miss Lovell… what can I do for you?”

I don’t get it. Why’s he being all cold and business with me? He gave me his personal number. He invited Nathan and me up here. And he gave me a bottle of wine from his personal collection. I scrunch my fingers into my hand tightly, feeling foolish. It’s me. I’ve clearly got this so very wrong.

“I wanted to thank you for the wine.” This is terrible. He doesn’t look interested at all.

“It’s fine Miss Lovell.” He rudely turns back to the women. “Ladies, have a wonderful evening.”