by Turner, V T
Sissy
She remained on the pavement after he hit her, after she watched him leave. She half expected him to apologize, to blame a moment of madness and pick her up, hold her tightly and beg for forgiveness. She also expected that, after he had gone, he would come back and carry her away in a fit of apologetic tears. But he didn’t apologize and he didn’t come back.
She was too stunned to cry at first, but when the tears came she couldn’t stop. A few people passed her but no one stopped to console her. Eventually a man from behind the counter in the pharmacy came outside, put a consoling arm around her. She looked at him, saw the pity in his eyes as he asked what was wrong.
Moments earlier she had been hiding her angst behind a veil of giddy excitement, taking pride in his reaction -- a stranger’s reaction -- as she announced her pregnancy and asked what vitamins she should take for the baby. He wished her well, gave her what he thought was best, and now, after a run in with the father of the baby, she was sprawled on the pavement with the bottle of pregnancy vitamins lying by her side.
“I’ve called the police,” he told her. “They’ll be here soon. “I didn’t see what happened. Did someone hit you?”
She shook her head, struggled to her feet. Not just someone, she thought. The father of her unborn baby, the love of her life.
“Thank you,” she said through the sobs. “But I think I should just go.”
He left a trailing arm on her shoulder as she walked away.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
She nodded, putting a sleeve to her face to hide the sobs.
“What about these?”
She turned around, saw that he had picked up the bottle of vitamins and was holding them out.
She shook her head slowly. “It doesn’t matter,” she told him. She wouldn’t be needing them anymore.
Part 2: Afternoon
Mark
Shelly was standoffish again. She seemed distracted at lunch, barely spoke more than two words to him. His day had gone from low to high to low again. He didn’t know what to think.
He spent most of his break at his desk, feigning interest in his work to not let Shelly know that her aloofness was affecting him.
Amber Matthews
“Come on sweetiepie,” Amber leaned over, gave her lover a kiss on the cheek, felt the clammy heat of his stubbled skin against her lips. They had only just gotten out of the tub, their skin still wrinkly from the water. They shared a bottle of wine in there, lost themselves in each other.
Now they were naked on the bed, exhausted and drying with the windows wide open.
She felt him stir when she kissed her, they’d had sex half a dozen times, he should be shriveled up and spent by now, but every time she kissed him or touched him, every time he saw her naked breasts or the curve of her back or the heart-shaped pattern she had shaven into her pussy, he wanted her more.
He moved to her, hooked a leg sluggishly over her. “You want to go again?”
She giggled, moved her face away from his seductive and eager kiss. “No,” she said. “You need to phone a taxi, he’ll be back in a couple of hours.
Phillips gave her a pouty expression, his bottom lip stuck out in a sulky manner.
“He’ll catch us,” she insisted.
“So?”
“So?” she parroted. “We’ll lose everything we’ve been working for,” she said, lifting herself up on her elbows. “We need to catch him cheating so we can have his money. If he catches me...” she shrugged. She didn’t want to think of the possibilities of giving him control in a divorce settlement. She had nothing without him, he would make sure she returned to that. She would still have Phillips and he wasn’t exactly poor, but with Ian’s money they’d be so much better off and she would have her own nest egg.
“Okay,” he said with a sigh. He sat up, yawned, stretched and then flopped down on top of her. “But just one more.”
She giggled hysterically, jokingly prying him away from her as he nuzzled her neck and twisted his leg over hers, his erection poking into her leg, edging closer towards her moist sex which had already seen enough action in one day to last her a week.
Shelly
She spent the rest of the morning thinking about it, slacking with her work as she racked her brain. Then she made up her mind.
She was going to tell him. She didn’t have any other choice. She didn’t care about Sissy, didn’t care what the little tart would think of her, if she told Matthews about her conversation with the assistant, told him what she had seen and what Sissy had asked her to do, then he would protect her. He certainly wouldn’t fire her. She would be throwing Sissy under the bus but part of her, a cynical and raw side that remembered how mean Sissy had been and how she had taken a peaceful night with Mark away from her, thought she deserved that.
She was short with Mark at lunch, she couldn’t help that, but she didn’t think he had noticed. He had a lot of work on and quickly went back to his desk.
She waited for Matthews to go to the kitchen but he didn’t, he stayed locked up in his office. She heard him grumbling in there. He sounded annoyed. She thought about knocking and asking if she could have a quiet word, but she lost her nerve.
Then, a couple of hours later, she saw him leaving his office, walking through the main floor. A decisiveness that she didn’t know she had took over. She called to him, attracted his attention. It felt like someone else had done it, a different part of her -- perhaps the same part that wanted Sissy to suffer.
She was going to tell him right there in the hustle and bustle of the workfloor. Probably for the best, she reasoned. He wasn’t likely to blow his top or get angry at her with everyone else around.
Ian Matthews
He was still wound up. He felt like he was ready to explode. The coffee hadn’t helped, even a nip of the scotch he kept in the bottom drawer of his desk hadn’t helped. He needed to go home, have a bigger drink and fuck his wife. That would calm his nerves. He realized that he could also tell her, just incase Sissy used their breakup and the incident in the street as a motive to tell Amber, but he doubted she would. They were finished now, she had nothing to gain from telling Amber anything.
He left the office a couple of hours earlier, while everyone was still at work. He didn’t need to be there for them, didn’t need to supervise them. Simone would keep an eye on things, it was her job to escort the last of them out and make sure the place was locked up.
“Mr Matthews, can I have a word?”
The new girl called to him as walked with hurried steps out of his office. He paused to study her, wondered if she could relieve his tension better than his wife could.
He didn’t think about it long. She wasn’t anything special, but he had already tried to go down that route and, for whatever reason, she didn’t seem to be interested. He turned away, “Not now,” he told her.
He noticed the sly smile that Simone gave him when he walked by the front desk, he paused to tell her that he was leaving early and wouldn’t be back, was ready to ask her to phone his wife to tell her he would be back early. From Simone’s reaction on the phone he could gauge if she would be waiting for him with a hacksaw and a murderous grin, or if he had any chance of her waiting with one of her sexy nightdresses that he liked so much.
He didn’t like the look in Simone’s eyes though, a look that suggested a lot but said nothing. He weighed her up, noticed how the grin never faltered from her face.
“Can I help you?” she asked him eventually.
He studied her some more and then shook his head. He patted the desk, looked away, thought about telling her again and then dismissed it, saying nothing more than, “I’m going.”
“Will you be long?” she asked.
He didn’t answer. In his mind he was already home, already suckling on his wife’s tits and a tumbler full of expensive whiskey.
Amber Matthews
Phillips rose from the sofa when he heard the taxi pull up outside. The day was dim
ming, afternoon gradually shifting to evening, and he saw the strong beam of the headlights cutting through the living room window and the glass panels in the door.
He was already dressed, all ready to leave. He stopped in the hallway to give Amber one last goodbye kiss.
“I’ll see you on Friday,” he told her, tracing a finger down her cheek, smiling at the disappointment on her face, disappointment that always appeared whenever he had to leave.
“It’s so long.”
He shrugged. “That’s what you get when you spend all night sleeping half naked in a closet; schedules get rearranged.”
She smiled at him, partly happy that he hadn’t entirely blown his job for her; partly disappointed that she wouldn’t see him for a few days. They heard a car door open on the driveway, heard it shut and lock.
“I’ll miss you,” she said honestly.
“I’l miss you too.”
They kissed; a long, warm and pleading kiss, one they both knew had to make up for the next few days, when he would have nothing but work and she would have nothing but her husband.
They were still in each other’s embrace, their lips still locked, when the front door opened.
They were lost in the moment, almost didn’t realize that it wasn’t standard practice for a taxi driver to walk through the front door. They didn’t react until they heard Ian speak:
“I don’t fucking believe it.”
Mark
Shelly looked distant. She had something on her mind, something that was forcing her into a state of melancholy. His fears and paranoia had told him that her dismissive state at lunch had been because of him, but his rationality now told him otherwise.
She was a beautiful woman and she didn’t wear melancholy well. It upset him just to see her in that state. He went over to console her, gave her a warming smile and asked if she wanted to share a coffee in the kitchen. She agreed.
After they made their coffees, sat down and exchanged pleasing smiles, she told him everything in every detail.
“We all knew,” he told her when she had finished. “Although clearly they don’t know we know.”
Shelly sighed. “I really don’t want this hanging over me,” she said. “I don’t know how Sissy’s going to react, what she’s going to do. She seems like the devious sort.”
Mark nodded, he had assumed the same thing.
“The longer I leave it without telling Matthews, the more chance I’m giving her to manipulate him.”
“You need to tell him as soon as you can. It’s no skin off your nose,” Mark said. “I don’t think he’ll be too happy, but if he’s annoyed, he has no reason to be annoyed at you.”
Shelly nodded, looking troubled. “I think he’s finished for the day,” she noted. I saw him leave.”
“It’s okay,” Mark took out his phone, jabbed in a few numbers and then showed her the screen. “I have his mobile number.”
She raised her eyebrows quizzically, wondering what he was doing with the boss’s number.
Mark gave her a knowing grin. “At one point he insisted we all have his number, so we could contact him if we needed his help of guidance.”
“Really?”
Mark nodded. “Christmas party I believe, he was drunk. Most of the others dismissed it, I kept it. Just in case.”
Shelly shifted uncomfortably. “And you think I should phone him? Now?”
Mark could see her agitation and discomfort. “Not now, no. I’ll phone him for you after work.”
“I don’t think--”
“It's okay. I won’t tell him you know, I’ll tell him you told me the story in strictest confidence it’ll be okay,” he side, putting his hand on his heart to offer her his promise and giving her a cheeky smile.
She gave him a long hard stare and slowly allowed a smile to creep onto her face.
“Thank you,” she said warmly.
“You’re welcome. But, I want something in return.” He dropped the phone in his pocket, stood up. “I want you to accompany me for drinks after work, finish off what Sissy interrupted last night.”
Shelly beamed. “I’d love to.”
Part 3: Evening
Simone
Mr Matthews had something on his mind, something he clearly couldn’t get off his chest before he left work for the day. Simone loved to see him squirm, loved to see the discomfort on his face as he struggled with his own inner turmoil. She didn’t know what was eating him, but guessed that his problem was probably sex related. His life was run by sex, either with Sissy, his wife or any other woman he could get his hands on. Simone had turned him down that day, Sissy hadn’t shown up; Matthews was probably ready to explode.
She’d had a good day and had felt content throughout. She hadn’t gotten what she wanted, hadn’t started the game just yet, but she knew she was just waiting for the right time. She hummed softly to herself as the day progressed, smiled warmly at the workers as they filled out at the end of the shift. She noted that the new girl looked very friendly with Mark. He was a handsome man, seemed a little weird and even awkward at times, but she had noticed similar traits in the new girl. They were probably a perfect match.
When she locked up for the night she stopped outside the building and glanced up at the dull facade. She imagined it completely derelict, the business bankrupt, the building falling into disrepair. She imagine the lives it would damage; imaged how much Matthews would be destroyed to see his business empire and personal life crumble into one shitty mess.
When she turned around and headed for her car, she was grinning.
Shelly
They went to the same place as the night before and shared a friendly drink without the fear of being interrupted by Sissy as on the previous evening. Mark put her at ease and she stopped worrying about Matthews and Sissy. After they had a drink, after they shared some smiles and light conversation, Mark decided to call Matthews; get it out of the way so they could enjoy their night.
She watched the cheeky smile on his face as he made the call, saw the smile switch to a serious and sombre note as he tried to gather himself. It rang for a while, he raised his eyebrows at her playfully, was about to comment on the length of the call when someone on the other end picked up.
His eyebrows arched into a frown at the sound of the voice. “Hmm, I’m looking for Ian?” he said.
Shelly shifted closer, strained her ears to pick up any of the conversation on the other end. She could hear some high pitched noises that sounded like sirens, could hear a rasping, agitated voice. She couldn’t make out anything coherent.
“Okay, sorry. I’ll--yes--ok.”
Mark ended the call, stared at the phone in his hand before slipping it into his pocket and slowly turning his attention to Shelly who was waiting with bated breath.
“Well?” she asked, curious and eager to know.
Mark was taken aback, he took a few moments to gather himself. “That was his wife,” he said, before adding: “I think.”
“You think?”
He nodded. “It was a woman anyway.”
“What did she say? Was Matthews there?”
Mark looked at her, didn’t speak for a few moments as his mind processed something. “I think something's wrong.”
“What?”
He shook his head. “I heard the sirens, heard a lot of shouting. There were men in the background. His wife, or whoever it was, seemed breathless and agitated. She didn’t say anything but something was wrong.”
“What do you think happened?”
He shrugged. “From the sounds of it, I think our boss ran into a spot of bother and I don’t think he’ll be hearing your story tonight.”
Sissy
She sat on the edge of the bed, her hands on her stomach, feeling the imagined contours; the shape of her unborn baby.
The party had begun outside the door, another session of drink and loud music arranged by her flatmate Julie for a handful of her friends. She had asked Sissy if it was okay -- it was a work
night after all -- but she didn’t mind. It wouldn’t matter either way.
She had also asked Sissy if she wanted to join in. She would have to forego the booze for the sake of the baby, but, Julie promised, she could have just as much fun with a cup of tea; enjoying the music and the company without the sedation.
She refused the offer, she was in no mood for partying. Luckily for her Julie hadn’t asked about the mark on her face, hadn’t even noticed it. Nor had she noticed when Sissy took one of the bottles of wine laid out on the counter. She had stuffed it under her top on her way upstairs. There was a mirror at the top of the stairs and she paused to look at herself, at the bulge underneath the top. She imagined herself in a few months, imagined the bulge to be the baby and not a bottle of wine. But that image was never going to come true now, not after what had happened outside the pharmacy.
