by L.H. Cosway
“No. And don’t call me that.”
His mouth twitched. “But you said you were a punk.”
I made a face. “I’m not into nicknames.”
He nodded. “Okay, no nicknames. Your real name is too pretty not to use anyway.”
I barked a laugh. “Is that a line?”
“If it was?”
“I’d advise you to try a different one.”
“Noted. So, what do you do when you’re not scrubbing dishes for my brother, Iris?”
The way he said my name made my pores tingle again. It felt luxurious somehow, like a caress. “I talk to my cat. I read. I wander.” Talk to Bowie.
“You wander?”
“Yeah, I like to choose a starting point and let my feet lead the way.”
He looked displeased hearing this. “Only during the day, I hope.”
Huh. Was he worried about me? Nah, he was just being a copper. Nosy. I shrugged.
“Sometimes at night. I’m good at being invisible though, so I rarely run into trouble.”
His displeasure increased. “How often is rarely?”
I tilted my head. “Why do you care?”
His expression turned serious. “A tiny little thing like you wandering around in the dark is a recipe for trouble. Do you realise how easy it’d be for someone to just pluck you up off the street and do whatever they wanted?”
Ha! That was a laugh. The street was my home. I knew how to survive there, and I’d done fine so far. “Just because I’m little doesn’t mean I’m not tough. Let some fucker try to pluck me up. It wouldn’t end well for him.” I stabbed my fork into the empty plate with force to emphasise my point.
For some reason the action made him smile again, but this time there was a spark of calculation behind his eyes. “So, if I were to grab you right now, push you up against that wall,” he paused and gestured to the wall by the door, “you’d be able to fend me off?”
I swallowed. Not surprisingly, that visual wasn’t as scary to me as it should’ve been. Instead my gut twisted with anticipation. Do it.
Do it.
I nodded casually. “Sure.”
“Let’s try it, then.” He moved to get up and suddenly my courage fled.
I forced a laugh. “No, thanks.”
He shot me a wry look. “No?”
“No.”
“So, you’re all talk then.” He folded his arms, pleased with himself, and it made me want to punch him. I’d never been good at backing away from a challenge.
I grit my teeth. “Fine.”
His gaze flicked to my mine, his pupils dilating. I didn’t care to ponder what that meant. Without another word, he advanced on me. My heart hammered and I was too fascinated to react when he lifted me up off my chair, carried me across the room, and slammed my back into the wall. I exhaled choppily when he used one hand to grip my neck and the other to hold me down. My chest rose and fell as I looked up at him, entirely too engrossed.
What was he going to do next? I wriggled my hips, though not to break free. He made a curious noise in the back of his throat. I tilted my head. He looked pissed. Huh.
“Iris,” he practically growled.
“Y-yes?”
“You aren’t doing anything.”
“Should I be?”
His hand on my neck loosened. “I just physically assaulted you and you haven’t lifted a finger to stop me.”
“Sorry.”
He let out a frustrated sigh. “Don’t fucking apologise. Fight back.”
Fight back.
Right. It was a little hard to do that when all I wanted was for him to tear off my clothes and do very, very bad things to me. But I had to prove a point. I had to show him I could protect myself. Summoning my resolve, I twisted in his hold and tried to get my leg up so I could knee him in the balls. Unfortunately, his entire body was pressed into mine, preventing all movement.
I continued twisting, testing his strength, but I couldn’t find a single weak spot. In the end, I let out a frustrated sigh and relented.
“Fine. You win. Maybe I won’t go wandering at night anymore.”
“I’m not trying to be a dickhead. I’m just trying to make you more aware of the dangers,” he said, releasing me and taking a step back.
No, don’t go.
I’d been warm with him on me. Warmer than I’d been in a very long time.
I cleared my throat. “Job well done.”
He seemed conflicted, his eyes wandering over me and then to his watch. He swore under his breath. “I have to go.”
“Okay.”
He eyed me seriously. “Think about what I said, yeah? Don’t have me worrying.”
I only nodded and then he left, a question hanging in the air.
He hardly even knew me, so why would he worry?
Two
The Man Who Fell to Earth
The next day at work I’d barely taken my seat in the break room when someone pulled out the chair across from mine. Liam. He wasn’t wearing his police uniform today. Instead he wore jeans, a grey woollen jumper, and a curious expression.
Interesting.
Thankfully, we weren’t alone like yesterday. One of the cooks and two of the waitresses were eating at a nearby table, chatting about the latest episode of the Kardashians. I couldn’t remember the last time I watched TV.
“You again,” I said, peering at him over my food.
He smiled. “Me again.”
I twined some spaghetti around my fork and shoved it in my mouth. Liam watched me the entire time.
“Not working today?” I asked as my eyes traced his outfit. He looked good. Maybe even better than he did in his uniform. Something about how the wool hung on his solid frame.
He shook his head. “Today’s my day off.”
“Ah. And you decided to come pay me a visit. I’m honoured.”
His smiled deepened. It was very, ah, interesting. That seemed to be the recurring adjective of the day. “I had to drop something off for Lee.”
I effected a pout. “You wound me.”
He cocked his head to the nearby table. “Why don’t you ever sit with the others?”
I glanced down, my mouth settling in an uncomfortable line. “I haven’t been here long. Besides, they all have their groups.”
“I’m sure you could become a part of a group if you tried.”
Yes, but that would mean making friends, and friends wanted to know things about you, your family, where you come from, where you live. The shame I felt at the very idea of anyone at The Grub Hut discovering my circumstances was immense. My gut literally turned over at the thought. Sometimes I had nightmares where I was laying on the floor in my dirty old sleeping bag and all my fellow workers came into the squat, disgust in their eyes as they discovered the reality of my life.
I lifted a shoulder, feigning disinterest.
“No? You too cool for the staff here? Are they too mainstream for your dark and aloof self?”
I laughed at this. “Has Lee enlisted you to try and get me to be more sociable or something?”
“Nah, I enlisted myself.”
Why? I wanted to ask. Instead, I ate some spaghetti.
When Liam didn’t say anything more I spoke. “You shouldn’t waste your energy on me. I only wash the dishes. Maybe direct your effort towards the cooks, that’s where the money’s at.”
“You’re odd, Iris.”
“And you’re wasting your time. For all you know I could be gone tomorrow.” His jaw firmed at this and he appeared unhappy for some reason.
“Are you planning on leaving?”
“No, I’m not. I was just saying it’s a possibility is all.”
“Don’t leave.”
I furrowed my brow, not getting him. “Why?”
All of a sudden, my mind was awash with apprehension. Did he not want me to leave because he was keeping tabs on me? No, he couldn’t be. Police didn’t care about the homeless unless they were bothering nice, civilise
d people for money or doing drugs out in the open. As long as we hid away in the cracks so nobody had to feel bad by seeing us, we were left alone. Sure, I didn’t look as obviously homeless as some because I actively took care of myself and I was young. Give it a few years and all the sleepless nights and bitter cold was going to catch up on me.
“Because I’d worry about you,” Liam replied after stewing on his answer a moment.
Something squeezed at my chest but I endeavoured to ignore it. I also tried to ignore the genuine concern in his eyes. After so long on my own, with nobody giving a crap about me, it felt foreign to have someone express concern. Made me feel vulnerable, and I didn’t understand it. My eyes watered a little but I pushed back the emotion.
“Why would you worry?” I practically whispered.
Liam’s handsome features formed a sad, empathetic expression. “Because I can tell you’ve got no one looking out for you.”
I stiffened, growing defensive. “I’ve got people.”
He cocked a brow. “Really? Who?”
I averted my gaze. “That’s none of your business.”
“You’re closed tight as a bank vault, Iris. You’re closed tight because you’ve been let down too many times.”
How could he possible know this?
“I know because I’ve been where you are,” he went on. Man, could he read minds, too?
“You have?”
“You know I’ve got two other brothers aside from Lee, right?”
I nodded. Stu and Trevor had been around the restaurant a time or two, but I’d never really spoken to them.
“Well,” he continued, “we were let down by grown-ups a lot when we were kids. Ended up having to raise ourselves. If it weren’t for Lee being so determined for us to survive on our own, I’m not sure what might’ve happened.”
I gaped at him in disbelief. Sure, my boss didn’t strike me as the kind of man who came from a fancy background, but I didn’t imagine he’d been in a similar boat to mine. Suddenly, I felt even more warmth for him. After all, if it weren’t for Lee showing me kindness, I might not have had food in my belly the past few weeks. Nor would I have two-hundred pounds in savings hidden at the end of my Doc Martin boot. Another three-hundred and I’d have enough for a rental deposit.
“Where were your parents?” I asked quietly.
“Mum passed away. Drug overdose. Dad was MIA. We had our aunt for a while but eventually she fucked off on us, too.”
A shiver trickled over me. Was this why I’d always felt so drawn to Liam? Because our stories were so similar?
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Hey, we all survived, didn’t we?”
“Yeah, you did.”
A quiet fell and Liam held my gaze. It was like he was reading a book in my eyes. I felt exposed.
“Are you okay, Iris?” he asked, his voice heavy. The question might’ve seemed out of the blue if it weren’t for the way he’d been looking at me. It also wasn’t as straightforward as it sounded. Somehow, he wasn’t merely asking if I was okay, he was asking if I was safe, if I really had anyone looking out for me.
“Of course, I am,” I answered confidently, pure bravado.
“You can talk to me, you know. I’m not in uniform today. Anything you say will stay between the two of us.”
I bristled. “There’s nothing to say.”
“No?”
“No.”
“I nearly went to prison once,” he confessed and I startled.
“What?”
“I said, I nearly went to prison once, but my brothers, they protected me. Our lives weren’t always so law-abiding.”
He broke the law? But how? It didn’t make sense. Criminals didn’t get to become police constables. That wasn’t how the system worked. At least, I thought it wasn’t. Maybe he was lying, trying to lure me into a false sense of security so I’d talk.
“Sure.” You could’ve cut my sarcasm with a knife.
“I’m not lying. How else do you think we pulled ourselves out of the gutter? Because it sure as shit wasn’t by following the law. We stole cars, got caught up in a gang. It took a long time to get out. Again, I owe it all to Lee. I was too young at the time to realise the path I was going down. Sometimes we all need to accept help from others or else we’ll sink below the tide.”
His eyes flared meaningfully as I studied him. He didn’t look like he was lying, and for some reason I wanted him to be telling the truth. Because if he was, it meant we weren’t so different. It also meant I had a chance of living a good, normal life one day. If Liam and his brothers could manage it, then so could I.
Still, if he thought telling me all this meant I was going to open up to him he was dead wrong.
“Well, I’m glad to hear you changed your ways,” I said and stood from the table, my voice toneless. “I need to be getting back to work now.”
He exhaled a frustrated breath. “Iris.”
I cut my gaze to his. “What?”
“If you need a friend I’m right here.”
Suspicion swelled within me. In my experience, people didn’t offer up friendship out of the kindness of their heart. No, if I knew anything about human nature, I knew that Liam Cross wanted something from me. That was the only reason he was being kind.
I just had no clue what it was he wanted.
He didn’t follow me out to the kitchen, and despite my tenseness, I finished up the rest of my shift without incident. It was dark when I made my way home, and when I turned the corner that led to the abandoned building I was squatting in, I heard voices. Loud, raucous voices.
Crap.
A group of bedraggled-looking homeless men had set-up shop outside the building, drinking cans of cheap beer, and warming themselves next to a fire they somehow managed to get going in the icy cold.
My heart pounded, a lump of dread sinking in my gut. If they were outside the building it meant they’d likely taken a look inside. I always kept the money I’d saved on me, because I didn’t have a safe enough place to stash it. All of my things, however, were inside that building, and though they weren’t much, they were mine.
I was going to kill every single one of those hobos if they’d so much as lain a finger on my stuff.
I crept around the side of the building, blending into the shadows. I was an expert at that. I always wore dark, inconspicuous clothes so I didn’t stand out. Attention wasn’t my favourite thing, which explained why Liam Cross had become a source of anxiety.
The men were either too drunk or too oblivious to notice me scuttle by. I crept inside the building and bounded up the stairs two at a time, my heart in my throat at what I might find. Mr Hector sat in the doorway and as soon as I saw him I knew. His fathomless green eyes were somehow accusatory.
You let this happen.
You let them wreck our home.
My sleeping bag was torn to shreds. My candle collection had been tossed aside and lay scatted all over the room. The clothes I’d kept tucked inside a small duffle bag were strewn all over the place. Clearly, the men had been searching for valuables and come up empty. They probably thought I’d hidden money in the lining of my sleeping bag, but no such luck. Still, I was distraught. My few possessions might’ve been worthless to them but they were everything to me.
Where was I going to sleep tonight?
It was cold, and later it would turn icy. My sleeping bag had been the only thing to keep me from freezing to death and now it was useless. I didn’t cry much, not anymore. It felt like I’d spent so much time crying as a kid that I was all cried out. Even so, tears stung at my eyes now as I slid down to the dirty floor. I held my head in my hands as I sobbed heavily and something warm and furry crept into my lap. Mr Hector was mewling, probably wondering why I was acting so mental.
Don’t you understand? They took everything.
But no, cats didn’t get the concept of having to start over from scratch. And starting over from scratch was exactly what I had to do now. I had t
o find a new place to sleep and buy a new sleeping bag. That was going to cut into my savings. Still, tonight was going to be rough because it was late and all the shops were closed. A new sleeping bag would have to wait until tomorrow.
I petted Mr Hector and then got up to check if my food was still in its hiding place. By some stroke of luck the men hadn’t found my stash. I pulled out a slice of bread and ate it, wondering where Mr Hector went during the day to get food. He wasn’t a skinny cat, so he had to be eating somewhere. If only humans could eat out of rubbish bins and not get sick from salmonella.
I sniffled a few more times, dried my eyes with the back of my hands, and went to gather my clothes. My duffle bag lay emptied on the floor and disturbingly some of my underwear and one of my T-shirts were missing. A chill ran down my spine. I tried not to think too much on that.
I gathered everything into the bag and wracked my brains for places I could go for the night. I couldn’t stay here. Those men might decide to come back inside and God only knew what they’d do if they found me.
“Why don’t you pay Maude a visit?” Bowie suggested. He was The Man Who Fell to Earth tonight, his hair as orange as a flame.
“I can’t go to Maude’s. I’m too old, and besides, there wouldn’t be any room for me there,” I huffed and continued gathering what remained of my possessions.
Maude was one of my old foster parents. She owned a large house and usually had anywhere between five and ten teenagers living with her. She ran a tight ship and although she could be very cold and practical, had probably been my favourite foster carer. However, as soon as I turned eighteen she regretfully couldn’t put me up anymore. That’s how I ended up on the streets.
“Well, you can’t sleep rough. You’ll catch your death,” said Bowie, visibly worried for me.
I stiffened. “I’ve survived worse.”
“Maude will let you stay at hers. Just rock on up and be all it’s Britney, bitch. Confidence makes people give you what you want.”
I chuckled. “You obviously don’t know Maude. She’d be like call me a bitch again and I’ll shove this broomstick up your arse.”
