by Fox Brison
“Thanks, Adam.” Although, from her supercilious smirk, it was clear Adele expected nothing else. “However, Mackenzie deserves a lot of the credit. Have we scheduled her end of year review?”
Hmm, now that was unexpected. I couldn’t work Adele out. One minute she’s tearing a strip off the girl to the point she was in tears and now she was praising her to their boss? Forget Rose West, maybe she was more akin to Harley Quinn in Suicide Squad with voices telling her who to kill.
“Right well I’ll let the two of you get back to it. Joanne it was a pleasure. You keep this one on a tight leash.” He left us alone with another wink and a smile.
“Leash. That was rather apposite wasn’t it?” Adele said once the door clicked closed.
“You mean because you have me on a short one?”
“No, I was referring to our furry conversation.” She sighed resignedly. “Thank you, Joanne, for your discretion and-”
“Look don’t get the wrong idea, Ms Jackson,” I cut in rudely. I couldn’t allow myself to soften towards her. “This is a business transaction, nothing more, nothing less.”
“Oh believe me, I harbour no illusion it is anything but, and I didn’t need your quasi contract to inform me of the fact,” she sneered.
“Will you pick me up on Friday or shall I meet you at the restaurant?” I asked.
“It’s not a restaurant, it’s a small hotel on the coast. I’ll pick you up at six. Just so you know, I don’t appreciate tardiness.”
“And just so you know, I don’t appreciate blackmail, but hey, loosers can’t be choosers. Or wait. Yes they can - according to you.”
“This antipathy between us…” she growled but after playing with her scarf, she was quickly centred again. “This can’t happen on Friday.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be so convincing even you will think we’re in love.”
“I very much doubt that,” she mocked. “Until Friday then.”
“Until then.” I stood and practically ran to the door; I was desperate to get out of there. I wanted out of her sphere of blackmail and into my own little bubble of ‘fuck, what have I done?’
However, she quickly followed me and opened the door before I could reach for the handle. Two women, Adele’s assistant and another slightly older woman were loitering in the corridor and they watched us keenly. Hawks and prey sprang to mind. What’s with the looking up and down? “Call me later, hun,” I said huskily and put my arms around her neck. She tightened at the physical contact, but didn’t pull away, in fact it was the complete opposite and an alluring gleam lit her eyes; it was captivating and, if I’m completely honest, hot as hell.
“I will. Safe journey, darling.”
I then did something totally unexpected. Maybe it was the way the women were looking at us, or maybe I wanted to be the one in control, even if it was only for a few seconds. Whatever the reason, I reached up and our lips touched. What was meant to be a chaste goodbye became a bloody inferno for the naught point two seconds our lips were in contact. How on earth something so brief could be so encompassing escaped me.
I eased back, despite the alarm klaxon wailing a warning. “I’d better let you get back to work or Adam will have your guts.” I walked away coolly, despite being so hot not even a Boxing Day dip in the North Sea would cool me down.
You’re acting, Jo, none of this is real. I was the heroine in a B movie tragedy and Adele was the puppet master pulling my strings. I should have glutton for punishment tattooed on my forehead.
I was a fake girlfriend but there was no denying the sudden flair of attraction was the real deal.
Chapter 12
Adele
I stood at the window and watched the street below hoping to catch a glimpse of Joanne exiting the building. I wanted one last look before I launched into an afternoon of concentrated effort, something that had been absent for most of the morning as the hand on my watch slowly rotated through three hundred and sixty degrees.
The emotion roaring inside me was a brand new sensation. Yes Joanne was attractive, still I’d never experienced a thrill like the one that swept through me when she placed her lips to mine. I loved being single, never hungered for companionship and a lack of intimacy never bothered me. I wasn’t even tempted to buy myself a vibrator for when the urge hit; nor did I have the sort of dreams where I would wake panting for release. So to say I was surprised at the arc of pleasure racing through my veins is probably the understatement of the year. There was a lot to admire about Joanne and not just her girl next door sunny smile and classic beauty. No, for me her character was proving far more fascinating. I backed her into a corner and she came out fighting.
And interesting enough, she was fighting for me.
I knew I’d made the right decision when I’d approached her with my offer. Sometimes gut instinct was worth far more than careful consideration. She didn’t have to put herself out there with Adam and although I knew it was a game of make believe… I touched the glass when I saw her cascade of long red hair. Joanne. The sun added to it’s vibrancy and highlighted soft waves of golden flames impossible to find in a bottle. She turned, our eyes meeting for a fraction of a second. I smiled wistfully. If only the kiss was real, not manufactured.
Love from a bottle. Or in this case, love caused by a bottle of vodka jamming the brake pedal.
The plans on my walnut desk were sirens calling for my attention; I had the girl, now to produce a design for Jordan Golf that matched her beauty.
Easier said than done. I instinctively fingered my scarf.
***
The car service dropped me at home at seven pm, and after feeding my two ginger gannets, I sat down at my desk to try and continue the tentative start I’d made to the golf complex at the office. However, it was no use, I couldn’t settle, so I did the one thing guaranteed to ease my mind.
I put on my leathers and took my Harley out for a spin.
The roads were quiet, only myself and a few lone motorists out in the heat of the summer evening. Scotland was enjoying something of a heatwave, unexpected but definitely appreciated.
Hugging the curves as I rode the Lowlands, I lost myself in the freedom, responsible for no one and nothing apart from me and the machine between my thighs. The wind pushed against me and I eased away from the tethers of my home, my job, my past and my future. Nothing entered my mind except the next corner, the next dip, the next change of gear.
It was exhilarating.
I travelled further than I intended and was almost into the Border region when I finally pulled over and stared over the valley below. The lush green hills rolled down to meet farmland as the grey blanket of dusk drew in from the east, slowly covering the land in a soft down.
I must have sat there for a full half hour watching the light gradually fade, and only stirred from the moment when my phone rang, shattering the silence. “Hey, Da, is everything alright?” I answered.
“Aye, I just wanted to remind you that ye mam and me are going to Lanzarote next week.”
In actuality it didn’t matter when and where my parents were going, because I didn’t really give a hoot. Tonight was no different. “Right. Yeah thanks, I’d forgotten.” I wondered if my dad would hear the indifference in my voice. I also wondered if he cared. Maybe I was more like him than I gave myself credit for.
“So ye’ll come round Saturday for dinner.” It wasn’t a request although I took it as one.
“Sorry, can’t, I have a date,” I lied. There was silence on the other end of the phone.
“Bring her,” he said gruffly. That was a bigger hit to my solar plexus than the car crash.
What now? I should phone NASA and check if there’ve been any strange lights sighted over the skies of Falkirk. Invasion of the Body Snatchers - the Scottish edition. I could imagine aliens running around in kilts eating haggis and square sausage; mind they could have landed years ago, you’d be hard pressed to tell the difference.
“Bring my girlfriend? Is Gemma b
ringing Donna?”
“Of course she is,” he said. Defensively. “The Volvo’s been running hot. Donna said she’d have a look for me.”
I bet she will. Ingratiating… “But, Dad…”
“It must be serious if you’d rather see her than us.”
I’d rather see a gynaecologist with shovels for hands then them most days, but I kept that thought firmly locked away where it belonged. “It’s early days,” I prevaricated.
“So then don’t bring her. Saturday at six. Don’t be late, you know your mother likes an early night.”
“Right.”
We hung up with barely a goodbye and I revved the engine. On the way home I frustratedly took a corner too hot, and only experience and reflexes kept the bike upright.
I didn’t need to add more scars to my already sizeable collection.
Chapter 13
Joanne
My phone chimed just as I walked through the door after the day from hell.
You looked beautiful today.
The message was from a private number; maybe Adele used her work phone to send it? Was this her attempt at PR or damage limitation? After our meeting I could see the reason she needed help. Scathing was an understatement. I knew I wouldn’t want to work with her unless I had to.
“Got to give her credit for trying,” I mumbled before calling out, “I’m home, Mrs – oh hey Ashleigh. It’s early, why aren’t you at work?”
“Didn’t you hear the news? There was a fire at the motor parts factory next door. They sent us all home because of the smoke.”
“Jesus was anyone hurt?”
“Not that I heard,” Ashleigh said. “It was a big one too.” I plonked myself down at the table and gratefully accepted the can of Coke Zero she handed me before sitting, quite literally, on the edge of her seat. “So how’d it go today?”
“Well I have a date on Friday night,” I said ruefully.
“What? You said yes? Why the fuck would you do something as stupid as that?” she squawked.
“Umm, hello? You helped me draw up the contract,” I protested.
“Yeah, but it was a joke, something to take your mind away from what happened. And don’t think I don’t see what’s happening here, Miss Joanne ‘I will protect everyone at all cost’ Cassidy.” She pointed two fingers at her eyes and then waved them towards me.
“Her phone was in her hand ready to call the police. What else could I do, Ash? Prison or prostitution.”
“You have to sleep with her?” Okay incredulity registering one thousand and anger heading into the danger zone.
“No, not at all. I’m not that desperate. She’s a cold hearted ‘I don’t give a shit about anyone’ bijou bitch. I’d rather sleep with Geoff!” Doth I protest too much? Perhaps. A change of topic was in order before Ashleigh called me on it. “How’s my mam been?”
“Asleep,” she said, pouring herself a cup of tea from the pot.
“She’ll have to go cold turkey.”
“Don’t go anywhere alone with her,” Ashleigh said suddenly.
“My mam won’t be going anywhere for a-”
“No, I meant with sexy architect,” she clarified.
“Sexy architect?” I tutted. “I’m supposed to be her girlfriend, for one night at least, how’s that going to work, Einstein?”
“Listen, you always look for the best in people, Jo, it’s one of the things I love about you, but you can be too trusting. Just… just don’t, not this time. Be a cynical cow like me and then you won’t, you know.” Her eyes were full of worry and love.
“I won’t get hurt again?”
“Exactly. I don’t want to mention she who shan’t be named-”
“But you already have.” Moira was the ex we all have. Not the one that got away, oh hell no, she was the one we should never have caught in the first place. It took me over six months to uncover all of her bad sides, so stopped when I reached twelve; I wanted a girlfriend not a deranged dodecahedron. When I finally called it quits, Moira did not take it well and she turned up on the doorstep at three in the morning. My mam was mortal drunk and let her have it with both barrels. That was an occasion where drunk mam came in very handy.
Not long after that Moira moved to Dundee.
“Is she back, by the way? I could’ve sworn I saw her outside Burger King last Saturday,” Ashleigh added.
“I don’t think so, I would have heard something; we both know it’s impossible to keep a secret on this estate.”
“And you couldn’t give a toss either way,” she smirked.
“Exactly.”
I had bigger things to worry about, like how to survive a night in Adele’s company without taking to the drink myself.
***
Opening my mam’s bedroom door, the pungent odour of stale sweat and alcohol hit me like an olfactory sledgehammer. I hurried to the window and swung it wide open, standing for a minute appreciating the summer evening and blessedly fresh air. I leant my bottom on the window sill and stared at the bumpy lump under the duvet. No time like the present.
“Hey, Mam,” I whispered, sitting down on the edge of the bed. I heard her breath hitching so I knew she was awake. Reaching over, I stroked her hair back from her eyes. “I brought you some tea and toast.”
“I cannae eat,” she coughed.
“You need something on your stomach, Mam. Come on, please, for me.”
“Jo… Jo I’m so sorry, hen,” she repeated her contrite and shamefaced apology. I’d heard it before and the heartbreaking thing? I was sure I would hear it again.
“I know you are, Mam. I know. I am too. I should’ve known something was wrong.”
“It’s not your fault, I’ve never needed an excuse.” She sat up and looked at me through red rimmed eyes. I couldn’t tell if it was her drying out or because she’d been crying.
Probably both.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked unenthusiastically. I didn’t. What I wanted was to scream and shout that it had been twenty years since my dad left and enough was enough. I wanted to ram it down her throat that he was a selfish bastard and I had more half brothers and sisters running around Scotland than I knew what to do with. But I didn’t do any of that.
“No, it hurts too much,” she whined pathetically. She drank her tea and grimaced because it was laced with sugar and milk rather than infused with vodka.
“I know it does, Mam. He’s a bastard-“
“Don’t talk about your father that way,” she snapped, but this time, for the first time, it was perfunctory at best.
“Mam, he’s no father to me. I accept it, why can’t you?”
“It was all that wench’s fault. She set out to trap him. Got herself pregnant.”
Trapped. Ha. As if. “Once I can understand, but they have four kids together. You need to let it go.”
“I just don’t know what I did wrong.” She wrung her hands and the tremble returned, the quiver of a woman desperate for alcohol, the tremor of a woman who’d allowed one event to dominate and ultimately destroy her life.
“Nothing, mam. You did nothing wrong. Not then.” I wrapped my arm around her shoulder.
She began to cry softly. “I remember watching Benidorm and going to make myself a butty. I was trying to sober up, honest, doll. I felt bad about something, about you. And there was a glass on the table... vodka… And the next thing I’m sitting in the car. Oh god, I didn’t hurt anyone, did I? Am… is the polis coming for me?”
“No, mam, the other driver didn’t report the accident. I just don’t know where you found the money or why you took the car.”
“I don’t know how I took the car,” she wailed. “Most times I’m so pissed I couldnae even get the key in the ignition.” I passed her some kitchen towel and she wiped her tears.
“Mam, we can argue about the whys and wherefors till the cows come home, but you was in the car and you were drunk. It can never happen again. Next time you might kill someone. Next time it could be anothe
r Jimmy, or maybe little Ailsa Lawrence.”
“Don’t, Jo-Jo. I feel awffy enough-”
“Mam I have to say it because if you don’t stop drinking you’re gonna die, either behind the wheel of a car or of cirrhosis of the liver. And then I’ll have no one.”
“You have Ashleigh,” she argued petulantly.
“Ashleigh’s not my mam. Please, you were doing so well if something throws you, call me. Don’t reach for the bottle, use me as your crutch.”
“I’m sorry.” My mother’s tremulous voice echoed around the bedroom. “Satan takes care of his own,” she muttered.
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Mam, we can’t go on like this.”
“I want to get help. I mean it this time. I’ll even go to the Bible camp up the hill.”
“Hopefully it won’t come to that, but if it does, I’ll be right there with you.”
And I wasn’t paying lip service, I would be, of that I had no doubt.
***
I couldn’t decide if Friday came around quickly, or whether time dragged. The accident felt like it occurred months ago, yet the meeting with Adele was so fresh in my mind, it was like it happened seconds before. Fortunately we finished work for the weekend at two pm on Friday; I turned down a couple of hours overtime, even though the money would have been more than handy at the minute.
Ashleigh, god love her, also turned down the chance of an extra few quid to help me get ready for my ‘date’ with Adele, which was just as well because I was so nervous my hand was shaking, and if it was down to my efforts I’d have ended up looking like Coco the Clown after watching Beaches. It took me back to when we were sixteen and Ashleigh would tell her Mam I was having a sleepover, but we’d get dressed up and go clubbing instead.
“So will I do?” I asked when my makeover was complete.
“Will you do? Doll, if I was a lesbian I’d shag you!”
