Marx Girl

by T L Swan

  He turns to face me, and this time he does fall serious. “Wait here for me… In my bed.” His voice is deep and commanding, and damn, I know if I wait here it’s go time when he gets back. With one last look, he exits the room and disappears downstairs. I close the door quietly behind him and begin to pace.

  What now?

  I sit on his bed for ten minutes as I wait for him to return, and I look around the room. I pick up his pillow and smell it.

  Damn… he smells good. I inhale deeply again and then I see his suitcase in the walk-in wardrobe. I wonder what he’s got in there. I walk in and flick on the light, closing the door behind me.

  Hmm, a toiletries bag. I feel like a criminal as my eyes flicker to the door as I slowly unzip the bag. Deodorant, toothpaste and toothbrush, cologne…

  I take the lid off and inhale. Hmm, that’s the shit.

  Condoms… fuck. A huge box of condoms. I read the packet.

  Extra Pleasure for Bigger Men

  I narrow my eyes. For fuck’s sake, he pisses me off. Why does he have to be so damn well-endowed? I notice the seal is still intact. He probably has a stash in his wallet. Actually, where is his wallet? I walk back out into the room and look around. I see his jeans on the floor in the bathroom from last night and walk over and search his pockets.

  Bingo! Wallet found.

  I open it up and my heart stops.

  An image of me sits in the photo section. I stare at it for a moment as I try to remember where it was taken. Ah, that’s it. It’s in the hospital when my grandmother was dying. I’m sitting on a hospital chair and smiling up at him. I’m wearing a white dress and the photo was taken before we were together. I still remember the day he took it.

  Why does he have this in his wallet?

  I look in the compartment in the back and, sure enough, there’re three condoms. Fuck… I hate men.

  I slide out his credit card and read it:

  Ben Statham

  I slide out the next one and read the name.

  Ben Statham

  I slide out the next one.

  Jake Martin

  Who is Jake Martin, and why does he have his credit card? I slide the next card out.

  Jake Martin

  Huh? Two credit cards from different banks in another name. Who is it? Is it him? Is Ben even his name?

  “What are you doing?” Ben snaps from behind me. I jump, startled at being caught.

  “Oh… Oh…” I stammer. “Who’s Jake Martin?”

  He snatches the wallet from me. “I use the name Jake Martin when I work undercover.”

  “When do you work undercover?” I frown.

  “I’m a private investigator, Bridget.” He widens his eyes as if I’m stupid. “All the time. Will you stop snooping?” He walks back into the bedroom.

  “Why do you have a photo of me in your wallet?” I blurt out.

  He turns to face me. “I’m pretty sure you can work that one out for yourself, Einstein.” He sits on the bed and begins to put his shoes on, clearly annoyed at my detective work.

  “What happened downstairs? Where… where are you going?” I stammer.

  “I have to go down to the police station and give a statement.”

  “What?” I put my hands on my head. “Oh, no.” I begin to pace. “Why do you have such a huge box of condoms?” I ask. God knows why I want him to answer that, but I do.

  He stops what he’s doing and looks at me, deadpan. “I blow them up and make farm animals for children at parties. What do you think?”

  I stare at him. “Smart ass.”

  He ties his shoes angrily. “You shouldn’t be worried about who I sleep with, anyway. Your dipshit boyfriend is downstairs.” He sneers.

  I frown. Oh, yeah. I had forgotten about him.

  I wring my hands. “What’s going to happen at the police station?”

  “Nothing. I give a statement and then I come home.”

  “Will you ring me and tell me what happened?” I ask.

  “Why don’t you ask your boyfriend what happens?” he snaps as he stands.

  “I’m not talking to him. He pisses me off,” I whisper.

  “Not as much as he pisses me off, I can assure you,” he snaps. He disappears out of the room and I begin to pace, my head in my hands. This is a real fucking disaster.

  I wait for fifteen minutes and hide behind the drapes, watching from the window as Ben walks down the driveway with Joshua, Eric, and another policeman, and then I can’t see what happens out on the street. What car did they go in? Is Ben under arrest? Oh, my God, my poor heart can’t handle this.

  Did Eric see my car?

  The door opens and Natasha bursts in. “Oh, my fucking God! Joshua and Eric got into a fight downstairs.”

  “What?” I shriek.

  “Eric was being a dick and giving attitude about Joshua having money and Ben being his lacky, and then it got out of control. I thought Joshua was going to knock him out.”

  I drop my head into my hands. “What was Ben doing?”

  “Ben was being Ben. Not saying anything, clenching his jaw in anger.”

  “For fuck’s sake. What if he charges him with her murder? Did Ben do this?” I ask, terrified of the answer.

  “No, he didn’t.”

  “Would Joshua tell you if he did?” I ask.

  “Probably not.”

  “What are we going to do?” I stammer.

  Tash puts her arm around me and we sit on the bed. “I don’t know.” She sighs. “But I can’t say I’m a huge fan of Eric at this point.”

  I close my eyes and blow out a breath. This is a complete nightmare.

  It’s 4:00 p.m. and I haven’t heard from Ben all day. So much for calling me, and I can’t even ring him to see what happened in case he’s still at the police station. Natasha is at some stupid charity lunch, so I don’t even know if the boys are back at Natasha’s or not yet.

  I think this is the most stressed out I have been in years, and I may have worn the carpet out with all my pacing.

  The door buzzer goes off and I run to the screen to see who it is.

  Eric. Fuck.

  I push the button. “Come up.” I sigh.

  I don’t want to see him. In fact, he’s the last person I want to see. He comes through the door and smiles when he sees me. “Hi, babe.”

  “Hi.” I fold my arms. “Where have you been?”

  “Working,” he replies as he throws his jacket over the back of the lounge.

  “You worked last night, so why did you work today as well?”

  “I had an important case.”

  “Bullshit. You were chasing Ben out of spite for last night, weren’t you?”

  His eyes hold mine. “He called you up telling tales, did he?”

  I narrow my eyes. “No, he hasn’t, actually. I spoke to Natasha and she told me how rude you were to Joshua this morning.”

  He lifts his chin defiantly. “Yeah, well, I don’t like him.”

  “You don’t even know him,” I snap.

  “I don’t want to, either. Rich boys don’t excite me.”

  “Get out.”

  “What?” He frowns.

  “You heard me. Get out. I don’t want anything to do with you and your prejudice.”

  “You’re sticking up for him?”

  “Of course, I’m sticking up for him. He’s my family.”

  “He’s covering up for a murderer, Bridget.”

  “Bullshit. You have your nose out of joint because Ben made it known that he wants me back and, rather than deal with the threat like a normal person, you’re dealing with it like a fucking cop, searching for something that isn’t even there.”

  “So, you think Ben is innocent?”

  “I know he’s innocent,” I yell.

  “I know he’s guilty, and I know that Joshua fucking Stanton is lying through his teeth.”

  “That’s it. Get out!” I scream.

  He looks at me for a moment with calculating eye
s. “Did you have something to do with this? What do you know, Bridget?” he asks way too calmly.

  I frown as fear slithers over me. “What? Don’t be absurd. You’ve gone fucking crazy.”

  “I’m not leaving,” he states.

  “Well, I want nothing to do with you.”

  His face falls before he covers it up, and narrows his eyes in anger. “You’re breaking up with me over this? It’s my job, Bridget.”

  I stare at him as a clusterfuck of emotions swirl through my head. “I don’t like the way you’re speaking about my family. I don’t like all these accusations and threats that I can’t go near them. This isn’t your job. This is payback and I won’t have it.”

  He glares at me. “And I won’t stand in the way of justice.”

  I roll my eyes and shake my head.

  He grabs his jacket. “Call me and apologise when I prove that they did it.”

  “Don’t hold your breath.” I sneer.

  He walks out the door and I slam it behind him.

  I blow out a deep breath and drop to the couch.

  Great. What now?

  It’s Wednesday and I walk from the subway, up the main street to my work. It’s 8:00 on a beautiful, sunny morning, and I’m early, but being at home alone isn’t the easiest thing to do right now. I would rather be at work than thinking on my own.

  My thoughts aren’t making sense anymore.

  I’ve broken up with my boyfriend, yet all I can think about is Ben and why hasn’t he called me to tell me what happened at the police station with Eric.

  I know Ben’s not a talker, and I know communication doesn’t come easily to him, but he said he was going to call. I don’t want to call him because I feel like then he’ll know that I’m hanging on his every word. I don’t want to be that girl anymore. I don’t want to go back to relying on him, because the shitty reality is that I know that I can’t. I won’t go backwards, and trusting him would be doing exactly that. These last three days I’ve gone over and over Ben, our demise, how he just turned up here, and how suddenly I wanted to hear what he had to say. Well, I don’t want to know what he has to say anymore, and I don’t care what he has to say… so, I’m not calling him.

  To make matters worse, Joshua isn’t saying much to Tash, other than it went well and there’s nothing to worry about. Abbie and Tash and I have been having crisis meetings all week over it. I’m beside myself. I walk up the three stone steps into the building. It’s four levels and we all take turns being on reception on the ground floor. I work at a large travel agency in the city and arrange corporate travel for large companies and business professionals. The job is fantastic, and my work friends are awesome, but my boss is a real bitch. I don’t know if she’s going through menopause or what, but holy hell, she’s giving us all grief. The staff are leaving like flies and, to be honest, I can see the end is near for me, too, which sucks because it’s a great job. The door is already open, and I make my way up to level one. My desk is near the window and overlooks the busy street below. I have a Madonna lily on my desk in a white marble pot, alongside a photo of my nephew and nieces in a silver frame. I unpack my lunch, turn on my computer, and I sit at my desk.

  This is the last place I want to be.

  It’s 11:00 a.m. and I am on hold to an airline as I try to secure a flight deal we have going, when Bethany from reception buzzes up.

  “Bridget?”

  I push the button. “Hi, Beth”

  “Um…” She pauses. “Didge, you might want to come down here.”

  “What’s up?” I sigh as I stay on the line.

  “This holy hot guy just dropped something off for you.”

  I frown. “Huh? Who?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispers. “But he was built like a brick shithouse and had a cap on.”

  “What?” I stand and peer out the window, down onto the street.

  “Just get down here!” She hangs up.

  I stare at the phone for a second. Screw waiting on hold. I’ll just call back in a moment.

  I head downstairs and walk over to reception. “What’s going on?

  She shrugs as she passes me a coffee and a brown paper bag. I open it and peer inside.

  A chocolate éclair.

  I smile.

  Ben.

  He used to buy me a chocolate éclair every day when Gran was in hospital, because he knew how much I loved them. “Where did he go?” I ask.

  “He walked out the front and to the left.”

  “Did he ask to see me?”

  She shakes her head. “No. But please tell me you’re banging this guy.”

  I run out the front and look to the left. The street is busy and bustling, and I crane my neck to see over the crowd.

  Damn it.

  I walk up the street a little and still can’t see him.

  Shit.

  I turn back to go back to work, and there he is, leaning up against the wall, wearing a white T-shirt, blue jeans, and black cap.

  His eyes hold mine and I smile softly as I approach him. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” He smiles.

  My heart starts to hammer, and I swallow the lump in my throat. Why does he make me so nervous? “Did you bring me morning tea?”

  He nods once. “I did.”

  Our eyes are locked. “Why?”

  “I thought you might be hungry.”

  6

  Bridget

  I stare at him for a moment and I don’t know what to say, because that’s so sweet, but I really want to be mad at him, too. Finally, good manners get the better of me. “Thank you.”

  He nods once and bites his bottom lip.

  “You didn’t call me,” I say.

  “I wanted to.”

  My eyes search his and then I drop them to the ground. What’s going on here?

  “I got an apartment,” he blurts out.

  I glance back up, surprised. “You did?”

  “I can show you, if you want.” He shrugs as if trying to act casual. “Tonight, maybe?” His eyes hold mine and he seems nervous. “I mean… I don’t have any furniture or anything yet, but—”

  “Sure,” I cut him off. “I’d like that.” I frown as I consider my next sentence. “As friends.”

  He nods softly. “Of course.”

  We stare at each other for a moment. Why is he so bad at talking to me?

  “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  I nod.

  “We can get something to eat?”

  I smile softly and I know that this is the last thing that I should be doing, but fuck it. “Okay,” I reply.

  He bites his bottom lip to stifle his smile. “So… see you then?”

  I nod as I take a step backwards, unable to drag my eyes away from his beautiful face. “Bye, Ben.”

  I don’t remember getting back to my desk. I don’t remember doing any work for the last two hours.

  I do, however, feel off the charts excited and I shouldn’t.

  But maybe tonight we’ll finally get to talk.

  What the hell am I going to wear?

  I’m on my third glass of wine. It’s 6:50 p.m. and I glance back at the mirror to study my reflection. I didn’t want to seem to be trying too hard by wearing a sexy dress, so I’m in a tight chocolate-coloured skirt that hangs just below my knees, and a white off-the-shoulder blouse. My hair is down and full, and I have minimal makeup on.

  I’m nervous as hell as I sip my wine and reapply my lip-gloss.

  God, I have literally no idea what is going to happen tonight. I may be back home within the hour. The door buzzer rings and my heart flips in my chest.

  Here we go.

  BEN

  I push the door buzzer and wait.

  “Hello,” Bridget’s sweet voice responds.

  “Hi,” I murmur.

  “Come in.”

  I walk in and take the stairs. I don’t have the patience to wait for the lift.

  Friends. She wants to be friends. Keep it to fri
ends, I remind myself.

  I know through Natasha that things aren’t good with her boyfriend, and Tash seems to think that they may have broken up—which is good, great actually—but I also know that she needs time if that’s the case.

  But the last five years without her have left me with no patience at all. I take the stairs two at a time.

  I get to the front door and exhale as I close my eyes. Just friends.

  The door opens and there she stands, wearing a tight skirt, with her big, beautiful lips smiling at me. My cock instantly hardens.

  I swallow the lump in my throat. Cut it out. “Hi, Didge.”

  “Hi.” She gestures to her apartment. “Come in.”

  I nod and walk into her apartment, taking a look around. Just as I thought, it’s impeccable, filled with luxurious furnishings, chandeliers, and warm, earthy tones. There’s a chocolate leather couch in the room and a big antique rug. The back wall has bi-fold doors that open onto a large deck that overlooks the ocean. A barbeque and outdoor setting are out there, with candles all over the table, furnishing the space. When Joshua told me that Natasha owns half of Bridget’s apartment with her, I knew that was his way of ensuring that Bridget lives in luxury. He’s generous like that.

  “This is nice.” I smile as I look around. “It’s very you.”

  She smiles back. “Do you want the tour?’

  I nod.

  “This is the main bathroom.” I peer in to find the bathroom is white marble with a grey swirl, with a large, freestanding bath and double-headed shower. The tap fittings are all trendy copper.

  “This is the guest room.” She gestures into a room. It has white walls with a thousand different shades of aqua-coloured cushions on the bed, along with mirrored bedside drawers that match the mirror over the bed.

  “Still got your cushion fetish?” I smirk.

  She smiles. “Better than your fetish.”

  Our eyes lock and the air pulses between us.

  Friends…

  I snap my eyes away as I try to rein my thoughts in. “Where is your bedroom?”