by Donna Jay
Then she heard it. The front doors opened and closed. Jane was here! At least she hoped. Surely Hamish hadn’t forgotten his phone.
Now that she was here, nerves fluttered low in Simone’s belly. She didn’t know how to act or what to say.
Deciding to leave that up to Jane, she flicked open a file and picked up a pen under the ruse of doing some actual work.
Her gaze landed on Jane’s name in big, bold letters on her desk pad. Mortified, she dragged a manila folder over and covered up her scrawl.
“Hi, would you like your office vacuumed?”
It took less than three seconds for Simone’s stomach to hit the floor. Disappointment stabbed her in the chest, and she deflated like a popped balloon.
“Not tonight, thank you.”
The woman, Helen from memory, smiled. “Okay, I’ll be back in a bit to empty your rubbish bin.”
Once she stepped back out of the office, Simone dropped her head in her hands, massaging her temples.
What the hell was the old cleaner doing back, and where was Jane? She should ring the cleaning company and tell them they had no right switching cleaners without consulting her first.
But that wouldn’t do. If she seriously had an issue with that, why didn’t she phone last week when the substitute had been sent? If that’s what she even was.
“Goddammit.” She thumped her hand on the desk.
This was ridiculous, why was she so upset?
“Oh, is it a bad time?” Helen hovered in the doorway, black trash bag in hand.
“No, it’s fine.” She forced herself to smile.
It wasn’t the cleaner’s fault she was in a bad mood. Perhaps she could shed some light.
“You weren’t here last week,” Simone said, keeping her tone light.
“Don’t tell me you missed me.”
“I won’t.”
Helen’s lip kicked up and Simone gave her what was probably her first genuine smile. Until last week, she’d barely given the cleaner more than a cursory glance, let alone had a conversation with her.
“Were you on holiday?” Simone asked, keeping her tone light. Conversational.
She let out a derisive chuckle. “I wish.”
Already sick of idle chitchat, Simone cut to the chase. “Where’s Jane?”
“Who?” She put the rubbish bin down and picked up a couple of pieces of paper that hadn’t made it into the bag.
“The woman they sent last week.”
“Jane?” She frowned.
“Busty blonde. Dark blue eyes. Taller than you.”
“You were paying attention, huh?”
Simone fought off a blush. “It’s hard not to notice a cleaner in high heels. It struck me as odd.” And fucking hot, she didn’t add.
“Oh, her. Yeah, she’s something isn’t she.” Helen nodded like a bobblehead. “She fills in when people are sick. I think she’s covering for Cindy tonight. Great person, yep, real lifesaver that one. We’d be screwed without her.”
For someone who’d forgotten her name, Helen suddenly seemed to know a lot about her. But Simone didn’t say anything. What could she say? Do you have her number? Do you think she wants her panties back?
With a heavy heart, which was ridiculous, Simone stacked the files on her desk. Jane’s name swam in her vision when she moved the last manila folder.
Shaking her head at herself, she tore the top sheet off her desk pad and balled it up.
“Here.” Simone held up the crumpled sheet of paper.
Smiling, Helen opened the black rubbish sack and Simone lobbed it in like a professional netball player.
“Shot!” Helen exclaimed.
Her enthusiasm was contagious, and Simone found herself smiling.
She eyed Simone with warmth. “You really should smile more often, you’re very attractive.”
“You really should do the job you’re paid to do,” Simone said, shutting down that line of conversation before it even started.
She knew she was being paranoid, but she’d let her guard down once and look where that had left her.
Wondering what the fuck went on and why she cared.
***
Friday night, rather than make her excuses and apologise for not being able to attend happy hour, Simone was one of the first to arrive at the pub.
It was a lively place with pool tables, dartboards, and a good old fashioned jukebox.
Her two administrators, Alex and Leisa, were already seated at a table to her right. They waved when they spotted Simone.
She smiled, waving back. After ordering a glass of house wine, she wove her way between patrons and joined them.
“Evening, ladies. Where are the guys?” Hamish and Michael never missed Friday drinks.
Leisa lifted a shoulder.
Alex grinned from ear to ear. “I think they balked when they heard you were joining us.”
“Really,” Simone said, pleased she didn’t sound as offended as she felt. She wasn’t that fucking uptight, was she?
“Really,” Leisa said, her smile as big as Alex’s. “Michael still cries about you kicking his arse.”
Oh, right. Thanks to her dad, Simone was a sharp-shooter when it came to darts.
“Did I bruise his ego?” Simone slipped out of her suit jacket.
“Whose ego?” Hamish asked, stepping up behind them.
“Michael’s.” Alex and Leisa said in unison.
“Hey.” Simone smiled at Hamish. He was a great guy.
“Michael’s what?” The person in question asked, stepping up beside Hamish.
“Your ego.”
“Darts anyone?” Leisa grinned.
“Bring it.” Michael tossed his dart’s case on the table, puffing out his chest like a gladiator.
***
Three hours later, and in no condition to drive home, Simone left her car in the staff carpark and called a cab. Michael won the first round of darts, and she won the second. The third was neck and neck until Michael hit the bullseye, knocking her out of the running. She didn’t care though, the night had been a blast and exactly the kind of distraction she needed.
The minute she got home, she kicked off her shoes and threw some bread in the toaster. Toast and marmite wasn’t the most substantial meal, but it would help soak up some of the alcohol.
Grabbing two ibuprofen and a tall glass of water, she wafted the lot down to stave off a headache. Exhausted and content, she fell into bed. The last thought that ran through her mind before sleep claimed her was she should do it more often.
The first thought that slammed into her when she awoke the next morning was no she shouldn’t. A hangover was about as enjoyable as a visit to the dentist. Groaning, she rolled over.
How the hell was she supposed to exercise for an hour with her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth and a woodpecker trying to drill a hole in her skull?
If she only had herself to consider, she’d stay in bed. But she couldn’t let Leah down.
They’d made a pact to exercise together for one hour every Saturday morning. No excuses. Unless one of them was away or dying, of course.
Although she felt sick as a dog, she was far from dying.
One look in the mirror made her question if she was. She looked like death warmed over. Bloodshot eyes, hair a matted mess, mascara staining her cheeks.
She could’ve sworn she washed her makeup off before bed. Her nightly routine was so ingrained; she could do it without thought.
She huffed out a breath. She should know by now, not only did being over the limit make it unsafe to drive; it also messed with her autopilot.
Shit! Her car.
Already running late, Simone went in search of her phone. It blared to life before she made it as far as the kitchen.
She lunged for the charging dock and came up empty. Where the hell was her phone? She glanced around. Her handbag vibrating on the table was a dead giveaway.
Fumbling with the zip, she ripped it open and snatched up her
phone.
“Hello.”
Silence.
She looked at the screen. One missed call from Leah.
She punched the phone icon and it immediately started ringing.
“Where are you?”
Simone winced, holding the phone away from her ear. “Not so loud.”
It sounded like Leah was driving, not sitting waiting for her at a park. “Where are you?”
“On my way to your place to drag your arse out of bed.”
“It’s out. Dragging on the floor but out.”
“Pfft, your tight arse will never hit the floor.”
Knowing damn well Leah was referring to money, she didn’t bother arguing.
“Shit! Gotta go. Cop!”
The phone went dead, and Simone shook her head. It would teach Leah a lesson if she got caught talking on her phone while driving.
A second later, she jumped, startled when someone pounded on her door. She yanked it open, ready to give someone an ear full and was met by a smiling Leah.
She gave her the once over and announced, “You look like shit.”
“I feel like it.” Simone slumped into a chair at the kitchen table.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Leah pulled on her arm. “Best thing for a hangover is to sweat it out.”
A shiver danced up Simone’s spine. Leah had said the exact same thing when Simone drank herself into oblivion the night Renee moved out.
Grateful for having such a great friend, Simone kissed her on the cheek. “You’re the best.”
She received a strange look in return. “I’m dragging you out of the house, looking like shit and not smelling much better, and you tell me I’m the best.”
Simone covered her mouth not wanting to breathe on her friend. “Way to kick a girl when she’s down.”
“It’s called balance.” Leah grinned. “I prop you up when you’re flying high too.”
That was true. Leah had been there for her through thick and thin. “You’re a good friend.”
After scrubbing her teeth and spritzing on some deodorant, Simone filled a water bottle and they were out the door and on their way to the botanical gardens.
They could just walk the streets, but petrol fumes and cracked pavements couldn’t compete with a picturesque landscape and fragrant flowers.
“Wanna tell me about your night?” Leah asked as she bent down to do up a loose shoelace.
“Not much to tell.” Simone jogged on the spot, trying to keep her heart rate up. Thankfully, the fresh air had done wonders to clear her head.
Leah straightened. “Don’t make me pull teeth. It’s not often you overindulge.”
“Honestly, it was no big deal.” They started walking again. “Half a dozen of us from work went out for a few drinks, played some darts, had some laughs, drank too much, and I got a cab home.”
“Alone?” Leah gave her a hopeful smile.
“Alone,” Simone confirmed.
A comfortable silence formed by years of friendship settled between them.
A couple walking at a far faster pace than them, arms pumping, backsides waddling, rounded them on the path.
Simone and Leah glanced at each other.
“That do it for you?” Simone asked her playfully.
“Whatever.” Leah bumped her shoulder. “That guy looks like his butt-crack’s trying to eat his shorts.”
“Speaking of guys, how’s Brad?”
“Great, why don’t you come over for dinner tonight?”
“Can I take a rain check?” She didn’t think her body could cope with two big nights in a row, and she had no doubt if she went to Leah and Brad’s bubbles would be consumed.
“Of course. Come on, let’s head back to the car.”
They turned left and followed the pathway back to the carpark and toilets. An unexpected sight made Simone’s heart leap into her throat.
Jane, alone, waiting outside the public toilets.
“I need to pee,” Simone said, picking up pace. She had to see her. Her entire body reacted to one glimpse; heart pounding, pulse racing, excitement building.
It’s Jane, it’s Jane, played on repeat in her mind. Feeling like a teenager with her first crush, she resisted the urge to fangirl.
“I need to use the loo, too.” Leah fell into step beside her.
By the time they entered the ladies, Jane had slipped into one of the two stalls. There was no way Simone was going to enter the other and risk missing her.
“You go first.” She stepped aside for Leah.
“You sure?” Leah said as she stepped forward.
“Positive.”
She watched the dial on one door turn from vacant to occupied, as the dial on the other door turned from occupied to vacant.
Excitement bubbled up inside her. Would Jane be happy to see her?
Holding her breath, Simone plastered on the biggest smile she could muster.
The door cracked open, and she locked eyes with…a stranger. Disappointment hit her like a sledgehammer, knocking the wind out of her sails.
“Excuse me.” The woman looked at the lone handbasin in the corner.
“Sorry.” Simone stepped aside, so she could wash her hands.
The second cubicle popped open and Leah stepped out. She took one look at Simone and scrunched up her face.
“What’s the matter with you? You look like someone crapped on your shoe.”
“It’s nothing, just busting to go to the toilet.” She shot into the stall and her bladder refused to cooperate.
“Can you wait outside?” Simone called through the closed door.
“Why?”
“I’ve got stage fright.”
“You’re so weird,” Leah said, and Simone pictured her eye roll as she marched out, sneakers slapping on the tiled floor.
It was something that had plagued Simone ever since her first year at high school when a girl had peered through a gap in the toilet door, big eye blinking.
Simone had told her to scram but she’d just stood there, watching. It’d been creepy as fuck and still haunted her.
She pulled her shorts up, washed her hands, and met Leah back outside.
“Feel better?”
“Yeah.”
“Great, now you can tell me what that was all about.”
“You know about the school incident.”
“I’m not talking about having the piss scared out of you.”
“It’s the opposite, actually.” Simone fell into step beside Leah.
“Semantics.” Leah shrugged, coppery locks shimmering in the sunlight. “And you know what I’m talking about. Takes a lot for you to want to use a public loo.”
Leah knew her as well as Simone knew Leah. They’d been friends since they were fourteen. Thrown into the same homeroom the first year at high school, they’d been firm friends since. Through the good and the bad. Passing exams, failing exams. Relationships and breakups and everything in between.
They arrived back at Leah’s car and climbed in.
“Can you take me to get my car?”
“Where is it?”
“At work.” Where she’d left it last night.
“On one condition.” Leah held up a finger.
“Since when did our friendship come with conditions.”
“It doesn’t.” She fired the car to life and turned on the air-con. “That’s why you’re going to tell me why you ran for the loo like your arse was on fire, and then looked like someone had kicked your puppy.”
“I thought you said I looked like someone had crapped on my shoe.”
Leah put the car in reverse, glancing left at Simone before making sure the coast was clear behind them. “Do you talk like that at work?”
“God, no!” She had an image to portray. If she expected staff to adhere to high standards, she needed to lead by example, and that didn’t mean fraternising with the cleaning staff.
“I’m waiting.”
“What?”
“Unless
you want to catch a bus, start talking.”
There was no point deflecting, and to be honest, she needed to make sense of the entire crazy situation. Perhaps talking to her best friend would help put things in perspective.
“I did something reckless.” She hesitated. “At work.”
Leah shot her a sideways glance. “You skipped overtime? Oh my God, Simone Emmett, are you out of your fucking mind?”
“Shut up.” Simone slapped her arm. “And you weren’t supposed to ask the second part until I told you what I did.”
“Go on.”
“I kissed the cleaner.”
“Was she hot?” That was so like Leah, no judgement.
“Incredibly.”
“You going to see her again?”
And therein lay the problem. “That’s the thing. I don’t know where to find her.”
Leah slowed at a zebra crossing. “I thought she was the cleaner.”
“She was a reliever.”
“So phone the cleaning company.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“What for?”
“You’re supposed to tell me I’m out of my mind, to forget about her, not to go after her.”
“I’ve known you for fifteen years, you’re not a reckless person.” Her eyes went wide, a huge smile lighting up her face. “Give me the deets. Did you just go up and snog her?” She closed her eyes briefly. “I’m having trouble picturing you doing that.”
No, she hadn’t done that, and Leah wasn’t getting the details.
“So, anyway, I thought it was her at the park.”
“You mean that leggy blonde that came out of the bathroom? Damn, no wonder you looked like—”
“I was pining for a woman I can’t have.”
“Why can’t you?” Leah’s expression transformed from jokester to comrade.
“Because I don’t know where to find her.” The thought was depressing.
“Like I said, phone the cleaning company.”
“And say what?”
“Ask to speak to her. You do know her name, right?”
“She said her name was Jane, but when I asked our regular cleaner about her, she acted really weird.”
“It’s worth a shot, though, isn’t it?” Leah said, pulling to a stop outside KB Incorporated.
“Yeah, I suppose it can’t hurt.” Simone cracked open the door. “You’re a good friend. You know that, right?”
