Throw a Double for Spite

by Cherie Mitchell

  Throw A Double For Spite

  By Cherie Mitchell

  Throw A Double For Spite by Cherie Mitchell 2020 © All Rights Reserved

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter One

  Riley Preston pushed a handful of change across the counter, gave the disinterested clerk a sunny smile, and picked up her bottle of orange juice. A proposed glass of wine with her friend Briar last evening had morphed into the entire bottle and a vodka chaser, which in hindsight wasn’t the smartest of moves. Briar had that special ability to throw both caution and common sense to the wind whenever the opportunity for fun presented itself and on this occasion, Riley had been foolish enough to join her. Riley unscrewed the bottle cap as she stepped back out onto the sidewalk, squinting into the bright glare of the sun where it reflected with dazzling intensity off the barren concrete expanse of the city. Another glorious autumn day lay ahead but she didn’t expect to see much of it, not with Colin huffing his tobacco tainted breath down her neck and muttering about the team project due in by the end of the week.

  She waited as a pair of morning runners with identical swishing blonde ponytails jogged past, their taut buttocks jostling pertly beneath the silky fabric of their shorts. Snippets of the young women’s conversation floated back. “He’s not really my type and I don’t know if I can trust him.” “Maybe not, but you probably should give him a chance.”

  Riley grinned to herself as she walked across to her car. She and Briar had delved into the subject of men and their trustworthiness last night, in between sips of wine and a couple of ribald jokes courtesy of Briar’s job on a construction site, where she worked with a large group of male colleagues. Briar Franklin was gorgeous, with a cap of glossy brunette hair, large expressive eyes, and tanned, well-defined arms and calves due to the physical nature of her strenuous outdoor job. She worked as a supervisor and project manager for a construction firm, a career path that perfectly suited her high fitness levels and intelligent mind. However, most people did a swift double take when she revealed her occupation. Briar’s appearance suggested that she should be behind the counter of a high-end fashion store or overseeing a portfolio of corporate social media accounts rather than digging trenches and wrangling piles of dusty bricks.

  Riley’s phone pinged as she slid into the driving seat, the distinctive chime of a message from the dating app that she’d recently downloaded at Briar’s urging. The dating site too had been the source of hilarity last evening, especially after her friend demanded to look at the profile Riley had created so she could utilize her undoubted expertise and assess Riley’s potential love matches.

  “Bambi?! Is that your user name? What were you thinking?” Briar had thrown her an incredulous look and all Riley could do was screw up her face and grimace. She was faintly ashamed of the name herself but it had been taken from a random computer-generated selection after she’d discovered to her exasperation that all her preferred options were already taken.

  Briar had taken exception to her profile picture too, a photo that Riley had chosen because she thought it made her look outdoorsy and vital. Her friend Megan had taken it during a recent Sunday hike, although hike was probably the wrong word for it. A slow, chatty stroll on a popular walking track at a local park was closer to the truth and they’d gone to a wine bar afterwards, which had probably erased all the good that the walking had done. “It’s not the best photo of you. Hold still.” Briar had set her wine glass aside and taken a quick series of snaps on Riley’s phone, while Riley giggled and pulled outrageous faces for the camera.

  Surprisingly enough, Briar’s un-staged artistic efforts had resulted in several flattering photographs, most of which highlighted Riley’s ashy blonde curls, sparkling blue eyes, and the solitary, un-twinned dimple in her left cheek. Riley had promptly switched her existing profile picture for one of the new photographs while Briar topped up their glasses once more.

  Briar’s subsequent evaluation of Riley’s cartel of hopeful virtual suitors had been witty, disparaging, and dismissive. Unfortunately, Riley had to agree with her. The app’s automated selection of Riley’s five best matches were disappointing and none of the men suggested for her had raised her interest. She had also received several unsolicited, hopeful messages from some of the other men on the app but most of these had bordered dangerously close to the edge of Are you looking for a hook up? territory.

  But then again, what exactly was she looking for? Another Michael? She’d once thought she’d found her fairy tale romance with Michael and to be fair, their first few years together had been wonderful. However, just as Riley had started to flip through mountains of wedding magazines and dream of chiffon and lace, Michael had just as industriously started an affair with his young secretary. An anonymous phone call had tipped Riley off, the relationship had exploded in a blaze of hurt accusations and sheepish admissions and Michael had moved out. That was almost twelve months ago now but Riley knew she would be lying to herself if she claimed her healing was complete.

  Downloading the app had been her first apprehensive step back into the dating world, one nervous toe dipped into the murky water of new relationships but so far, not one of her virtual matches had met her expectations. She recapped the half-finished bottle of juice, dropped it down onto the passenger seat and pulled her phone from her bag. She held her finger down on the florid pink heart icon and opened the app, poised to give the notification a cursory glance rather than pinning any great hopes on what it might contain.

  A slightly blurry photo of a smiling man with dark hair, brown eyes that crinkled beguilingly at the edges and one of those movie star jawlines filled the screen. The username Jester One typed in bold text above the image served as the only other teasing introduction to Riley’s latest admirer. Intrigued enough to want to know more, Riley clicked through to the message and the man’s profile.

  Hi Bambi. Great photo! Have a look at my profile and decide if you like what you see. Feel free to message me with any questions. Steve.

  Bambi. She should have chosen another name. To her mind, the word
held vaguely sexual connotations, screaming of a fragile, helpless creature waiting for a hunter with a large weapon to appear and make her beg for mercy. That wasn’t going to happen, not on her watch. Yes, she was a diehard romantic and yes, she wanted a boyfriend but her next relationship would be on equal terms. Both her father and Michael had given her ample experience of the sort of man she didn’t want. She clicked into the next screen, where a brief one-paragraph profile summary gave her the information that Steve deemed important enough to reveal.

  I’m a 35-year-old male who likes to keep himself fit and active. I enjoy biking and hiking, walks on the beach, starlit nights, picnics, and traveling to unexpected places. I have a great sense of humor and I like animals. I am seeking a romantic partner with a disarming smile, an outgoing personality, and an optimistic outlook on life. My job keeps me busy but I have plenty of time and affection to give to the right woman.

  The profile description was cookie-cutter rather than inventive but the description beneath her own photo wasn’t exactly creative either. She looked at Steve’s appealing photo again before tossing the phone back into her handbag. She would wait until this evening before replying to his message. There was no point in giving him the impression that she was in a hurry to find out anything more about him or that she was interested enough to know more based on one bland paragraph. She’d read enough grim stories about dating horrors and she’d lived through one of her own with Michael, and she had no intention of presenting herself as an easy or gullible catch for anyone. Bambi. Ugh, she really needed to change that name.

  A few minutes later Riley turned into the parking lot of Smith & Gordon, the accounting firm where she worked as an office coordinator. The somber brown bricks of the building loomed up in front of her as she walked past the dumpsters and crossed the shadowy asphalt to the front door, unscrewing the top of the juice bottle as she went. Smith & Gordon wasn’t the most exciting or forward thinking of companies to work for, but the job suited Riley well enough for now. The pay was good too, giving her more than enough to live on while leaving a small amount aside for savings. She hadn’t told many people of her secret goal for fear of ridicule, but her dream was to one day honeymoon in Japan – preferably in the springtime when the famous cherry trees were bursting with lush, fragrant blossoms. Of course, she needed a loving and loyal fiancé to make that dream a reality but she was working on rectifying that. She had always believed the so-called biological clock to be a fallacy dreamed up by a man, a myth designed to keep women firmly in their place, but lately the subtle ticking in her own head had grown loud enough for her to be able to hear it. Kids were definitely part of her future.

  “Riley.” A heavy palm and hard, painfully insistent fingers covered her shoulder just as she went to grab for the handle on the faded entrance door.

  “Oh!” Startled out of her daydream, Riley jerked her hand back from the door and spun around. A sticky splash of orange juice slopped from the open mouth of the bottle and splashed across her wrist, the syrupy liquid laying viscous and bright against her skin. “You frightened me! What are you doing here?”

  Chapter Two

  “I didn’t mean to scare you. You’ve spilled your drink.” Briar touched the tips of her fingers to the back of Riley’s hand, the contact quick and feather-soft.

  “Dammit.” Riley shook the sticky drops from her wrist and replaced the cap on the bottle as her pounding heart slowly settled back into its rightful place. “I don’t usually crave juice in the morning but I think I had too much to drink last night. Why are you here?” she asked again.

  “You left this at my place. I’m working just a few blocks away today so I thought I’d drop it off.” Briar pushed aside the flap of her orange hi-vis safety vest to delve into the hip pocket of her tight black jeans. She opened her hand to reveal a length of chain lying on her outstretched palm.

  Riley stared down at the familiar chain and tiny diamond R laying coiled on Briar’s palm like a small golden snake. Her hand went to her bare throat, her fingers searching for it even though it plainly wasn’t there. “I don’t remember taking it off.” The necklace had been a 21st birthday gift from her father, a rare token from a man who didn’t spend much of his time thinking of his daughter and she seldom went anywhere without it.

  “I found it on the bathroom floor this morning. The clasp must have come undone and it slipped off without you noticing. Here, let me put on for you.”

  Riley turned and lifted her hair as Briar looped the necklace around her neck and locked the clasp. Briar’s fingers brushed against the back of her neck, as gentle as a lover’s caress. The chain and pendant felt smooth and cool against her skin, the sensation momentarily foreign and strange, and Riley wondered how long it would have been until she noticed it was gone. She should never have had so much to drink, especially on a weeknight.

  Riley shook her hair back into place as Briar thrust her hands into her pockets and nodded at the unkempt wooden door, where the Smith & Gordon company logo stood out boldly against the dust-covered windowpane. “So this is where the magic happens?”

  “Yes.” Riley couldn’t ever remember telling Briar the name of the company she worked for, but she supposed she must have done so at some stage. The two women had met just over a year ago when Briar moved into the apartment block where Riley lived with Michael, back in those halcyon days before Riley discovered Michael’s affair and her world disintegrated. The scene of their first meeting had been the aftermath of a hit and run accident outside the complex that left a stray dog injured. Briar’s cool head and calm manner after the incident had quietly impressed Riley, as she herself had been too flustered and distraught to be much use to anyone. Briar had nursed the dog on her lap while Riley drove to the nearest vet clinic, where the patient was duly checked and evaluated. The vet had diagnosed bruising and shock, revealed that the dog did not have a microchip, and released the animal into Briar’s care after she’d volunteered to take him in.

  Buddy the dog, with his scruffy fur and perpetual pink-tongued grin, had become a familiar sight around the apartment block in the weeks following the accident. The women’s friendship had continued to develop during that time as Riley made numerous visits to Briar’s apartment to check on the dog’s welfare. However, when the anonymous phone call alerted Riley to what Michael was up to behind her back, Riley had promptly moved out of the complex without telling any of the neighbors of her departure - and that had included Briar.

  Riley realized now that Briar had just spoken again. She rested her hand on the door handle, acutely aware of the distasteful stickiness on her skin. “I’m sorry, what did you say? I was miles away. My head is still foggy after our drinking session. That was such a mistake. I don’t know how I’m going to concentrate this morning but I should go in. I have to wash this juice off my arm and I’m late already.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I only stopped in because I was passing. Have a good day, ok?” Briar tossed her head and flashed her perfect white smile. The morning sun coaxed the glossy highlights in her hair into a stunning halo, giving the young woman an ethereal glow.

  “You too. Bye, Briar. And thanks for bringing my necklace back.”

  Briar strode off across the yard to the street without looking back. Riley watched her go before thoughtfully pushing the door open. Briar had re-entered her world a month ago, when she’d quite literally bumped into her at a local farmers’ market that she’d visited with Megan. While Megan had continued browsing through trestle benches laden with leafy lettuces, succulent misshapen tomatoes, and soil-dusted mushrooms, the Riley and Briar had moved to one side of the torrent of organic Sunday shoppers to reacquaint themselves. Briar had informed Riley that Buddy had run away a few months prior and that she herself had now moved out of the old apartment complex and into an inner city high rise. The two women had arranged to meet for a drink a few nights later, although Briar was certainly more insistent and eager than Riley was that they should renew their friendship a
s quickly as possible, and since then they had met on several more occasions. Last evening had been a spur of the moment get together after Briar extended an invitation for Riley to drop by her apartment to see the painting she was working on. Her artistic talent had surprised Riley, although it really shouldn’t have. It wasn’t as if she had known Briar for all that long and there were bound to be many things that she hadn’t yet discovered about her new friend.

  “Good morning, Riley.” Paul beamed at her as he rounded the corner of the reception area with a pile of folders clasped in his arms.

  “Hi Paul.” Riley, holding her sticky hand out in front of her, made a beeline for the ladies’ bathroom beside the front desk. “Excuse me, but I have to wash my hands.”

  Paul was waiting patiently in front of the old fashioned and uncomfortable visitor’s sofa when Riley left the bathroom. She blinked at him before glancing at the clock on the wall above the reception desk, where young Lucy was already diligently tapping at her keyboard. “Do you need me for something?” She was now in a hurry to reach her desk before Colin Smith, with his strict adherence to timekeeping and potent dislike of transgressors, walked out of the corner office for his daily surveillance of his inner office territory. There was nothing he liked better than pouncing on an employee who dared to break his no tardiness rule.

  Paul was the son of Angus Gordon, the other of the two accountants who had given their names to the company title. Paul was a thin, anxious young man with a nervous habit of pushing up his glasses with one finger and a perpetual red, pimply shaving rash on his neck. His clothes smelled odd too, but it had taken Riley some time to pinpoint the odor – mothballs, an item that she mentally related to maiden aunts and charity shops. Paul’s reticent personality was the polar opposite of his father’s robust, arrogant nature and Riley had always felt vaguely sorry for the younger Gordon and his awkward position in life. She knew herself how difficult it could be to live on an entirely different wavelength from a self-serving, self-absorbed parent.