by T L Swan
* * *
The flight is long and tiring. “Prepare for landing,” the voice announces over the loud speaker.
Chatting on and off with the boys for the last twenty-four hours has made us feel way more familiar with them than we should, and we’ve made plans with them for Saturday night. I know it would be better if we were going to live together, but Brielle’s—or Brelly as I call her—new position is live in. The judge apparently works back late through the week and wants the convenience of a permanent resident in her home, which is understandable I suppose. Brielle will get weekends off and even has her own private furnished one-bedroom wing off the main house, complete with a kitchen, separate exit, lounge and bathroom. I’m living with some guy and a girl. Mark helped me organize everything and said that when he checked it out, the apartment and the flat mates were nice. I really do hope that’s true.
* * *
Customs is ridiculously slow and a man has been pulled into the office up ahead. Don’t tell me the idiot has been busted for drugs…
“What do you reckon he did?” Brelly murmurs as she cranes her neck to spy on the commotion.
“I don’t know. Something stupid probably.” We shuffle up as the line moves forward. “I wish we had come earlier so we had a week together before you start work,” I murmur.
“Yeah I know, but she needed me to start this week because she is going away next week. I need to learn the kids’ routine before she leaves.”
I shake my head. “Who leaves their kids for three days with a complete stranger?”
“My new boss, apparently.” She shrugs.
“Well, at least I can come and stay with you when she’s away next week. That’s a plus,” I add. “Yeah, but I’m sneaking you in. I don’t want it to look like we are partying or anything.”
I smile broadly.
“What?’ She smirks.
“We’re here.” She pulls her shoulders together and widens her eyes. “Oh my God, I know. I just hope her and the kids are nice.” I raise my chin optimistically. “They will be. Who couldn’t be nice to you?”
Looking down at herself she tries to smooth the wrinkles from her skirt. “She is picking me up. Do I look okay?”
Brielle is a beautiful girl with dark brown hair that hangs just below her shoulders and a figure to die for. She has the straightest, whitest teeth known to man after having thousands of dollars’ worth of Orthodontic work which her father always reminds us about. Any employer will be so lucky to get her. She’s way too good for that imbecile on the other side of the world.
I smile nervously for her. “You look exactly what a twenty-five-year-old school teacher nanny from Australia should look like.”
She bites her bottom lip to hide her smile.
“So, what’s the boss’s name?” I frown.
She rustles through her bag and pulls out her phone to read the email from the nanny agency.
“Mrs. Julian Masters.”
I nod. “And what’s her story again? I know you told me before but I’ve forgotten.”
Brielle’s eyes light up with excitement. “She is a Supreme Court Judge, was widowed five years ago.”
I frown. “What happened to the husband?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know that yet. Apparently she’s quite wealthy.” She shrugs. “Two kids, well behaved.”
“Sounds good.”
“I hope so.” She frowns. “I just hope they like me.”
“They will.”
The line shuffles up in front and I feel my nerves rise again. “So, we are definitely going out at the weekend yes?”
She nods. “Yes.” Her eyes flick to me. “What are you going to do until then?”
I shrug. “Look around, I guess. I start work on Monday and it’s Thursday today. Are you sure you can go out on the weekends?” “Yes!” she snaps exasperated. “I told you a thousand times, we are going out on Saturday night.”
I nod nervously. “Yeah, right. Okay.”
“Did you get that thingy for your phone sorted?” she asks.
I frown. “Not yet, I will find a phone shop tomorrow so you can call me.”
“And Mark is picking you up?” she asks.
“Yes,” I mutter as I look around nervously. My heart rate has picked up dramatically at the mere thought.
She smirks cheekily and I shake my head in a dismissive gesture. The truth of the matter is that I have no idea what the attraction to Mark is. I may not even like him in the flesh, although I think it would be highly unlikely if I didn’t. We seem to get along very well, and it was at his insistence that I applied for this job.
“I need to go to the bathroom. How long is the drive from the airport to where we are staying?”
Brielle shrugs. “No idea.”
My eyes scan the customs area for a bathroom. “It must be on the other side of the gates.”
We are called to the front of the line to the customs desk, then half an hour later we exit, walking into the arrivals of London International airport. It’s a noisy, crowded, bustling space, and a row of men stand to the left along the wall holding small signs with names of the people that they are picking up. We both look around nervously.
“Do you see our name?” I ask.
“No.”
“Shit, no one is here to pick us up!” I snap. “Typical.”
“Relax, they will be here,” Brelly murmurs.
We keep walking toward the baggage terminal but I still don’t see anyone with either of our names on their signs.
“What do we do if nobody turns up?” I frown.
She runs her hands through her hair as her eyes scan the space. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m going to lose my shit.”
I look over her shoulder and see a tall, broad man in a suit holding a sign with the name Brielle Johnston on it.
“Oh, look, there is your name. She must have sent you a driver.” I point to the man and she turns around and waves meekly at the distinguished looking driver.
He walks over and smiles warmly. “Brielle?”
She smiles nervously. “Yes, that’s me.”
He holds out his hand to shake hers. “Julian Masters.”
Oh. I bite my lip to stifle my smile as I watch the color drain from my dear friend’s face. Julian is a man, not a woman as we thought.
Brielle’s saucer size eyes meet mine in shock. Oh my God. I want to burst out laughing. Her face is priceless.
He raises his eyebrows impatiently.
“Um, so, yeah, I’m Brielle.” Her eyes flick nervously to me. “And this is my friend I am here with, Emerson Mathews.”
He nods warmly and shakes my hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Hello,” I squeak.
“I thought you were a woman,” Brielle breathes.
His brow furrows. “No, last time I checked I was all man,” he grumbles, unimpressed.
I swallow the lump in my throat. Awkward.
Brielle fakes a smile and I drop my head to hide my face.
“We will have to wait about fifteen minutes for your baggage, I’m afraid.” He gestures to the carousel in the corner. He then paces off in front and Brielle punches me hard on the arm. “Oh my fuck,” she whispers. “He’s a fucking man.” I giggle with my hand over my mouth like a child as we follow him marching through the crowd.
“I can see that,” I whisper.
“Excuse me, Mr. Masters?” she calls.
He turns around. “Yes.”
We both wither under his glare. “We are just going to use the bathroom,” Brielle tells him nervously.
He nods one curt nod and gestures to the right. We look up and thankfully see the neon sign.
Brielle grabs my arm and drags me into the bathroom. “I’m not working with a stuffy old man!” she shrieks as we burst through the door.
I shake my head. “It will be okay. How did this happen?”
She takes out her phone to check the email again and I duck into a cubicle. I rea
lly am busting.
“It says woman,” she cries through the door. “I knew it said woman.”
I frown as I sit down. “He’s not that old,” I call out. “I would prefer to work for a man than a woman, actually.” Damn it, I need to calm her or she will get on the first plane back.
“You know what, Emerson? This is a shit idea! How in the hell did you talk me into this?” she shrieks through the door.
I smile sympathetically as I exit the cubicle and wash my hands. “It doesn’t matter, you will hardly see him anyway, and you’re off weekends when he’s at home.” I need to diffuse this. “Stop the carry on.”
Steam practically shoots from her ears. “I’m going to kill you. I’m going to fucking kill you.”
I know I shouldn’t, but I want to laugh. This is frigging hilarious. “Listen, just stay with him until we find something else. I will get my phone sorted tomorrow and we can start looking elsewhere for another job,” I reassure her.
She puts her head into her hands in dismay.
“At least you got picked up. Nobody cares about me,” I scoff as I stare at my reflection in the mirror and reapply my lip gloss. “I look like shit. Mark probably saw me and ran a mile,” I reply flatly as I try to fluff my hair.
She looks up from her hands. “Oh, Em. What are we doing?”
I put my arm around her and we walk out through the door. “It will be okay. I will call you tomorrow and we will work it out.”
We walk out and take our place next to Brielle’s new boss. My eyes flicker back to Mr. Masters. He’s about forty, immaculately dressed, and kind of attractive. His hair is dark with a sprinkling of silver. I swallow nervously as my eyes glance to Brielle who is also summing up her new house companion. “Did you have a good trip?” Mr. Masters questions as he looks down at Brielle.
“Yes, thanks,” she whispers. “Thank you for picking us up.”
He nods curtly.
I look to the ground to hide my smile. This is hilarious. I’ve never seen her so out of her comfort zone.
“Emerson,” A male voice calls from behind, and when I turn, I realise it’s Mark.
“Hello.” I smile nervously.
He kisses me on the cheek. “Sorry I’m late.” He turns to Brielle. “You must be Brielle?”
“Yes.” She smiles before she gestures to Mr. Masters. “And this is…” She hesitates, obviously not knowing what to introduce her new employer as.
“Julian Masters,” he announces sternly for her as he takes Mark in a firm handshake.
Brielle and I fake smiles to each other. This is so damn awkward.
Mark is blonde and handsome. His hair is neat, he’s dressed nicely, and… what else? Oh, I know… Short. He is really, really short – so much shorter than I imagined. I am not completely sure of whether it’s the jet lag or the let down of my imagination running away with me but I really thought I was going to see fireworks the instant I met him.
Guess not.
Hmm.
Finally, after ten minutes of uncomfortable silence, Brielle spots her bag as it comes out on the turnstile. “That’s my bag.” She points to her luggage coming out underneath the rubber flaps.
Julian Masters raises an eyebrow. “The one with the pink ribbon?” he asks dryly.
Brielle nods and drops her head in shame, and I want to hoot with laughter. I told her the pink satin ribbon looked ridiculous and not to tie it on the handle, but she insisted it was a good I will easily find my bag tactic and that was the only color ribbon she’d had. Her luggage comes around and he aggressively grabs it from the turnstile and turns to her. “The car is this way.” He gestures to the right.
She nods nervously. He turns back to me and shakes my hand. “Nice to meet you, Emerson.”
I smile. “Likewise. Please look after my friend,” I reply as my eyes flick to Brielle. She looks so scared, I think she might run over water to get back to Australia any minute now.
He walks off, wheeling her baggage behind him, and she turns to cuddle me.
“This is shit,” she whispers.
I smile into her hair as she grips me tight. “It will be fine. He’s probably really nice.”
“He doesn’t look nice,” she murmurs as she pulls out of my grip.
“Yeah, I agree. He looks like a tool,” Mark adds as his eyes follow Julian across the airport.
My eyes flick to Mark in annoyance. He is not a part of this conversation and I’m trying to sweeten the deal here. Shut up! Is he not aware that I have been in a plane for twenty-four hours and have jetlag with a bad case of don’t bloody mess with me?
“Mark, look after my friend, please.” Brielle smiles.
He smiles and rubs his chest like a stupid gorilla. “Oh, I intend to.”
I frown and he winks cheekily at me. Hmm. My disturbed eyes meet Brielle’s and this time it’s her who is smirking at my situation. We both look across the airport and see Julian Masters looking back impatiently for Brielle.
“I better go.” She frowns.
I nod. “I will get my phone sorted and then call you tomorrow. You have my apartment details if you need me beforehand.”
“I will probably turn up in an hour. Tell your room mates I’m coming in case I need a key,” she whispers.
“Go,” I mouth. She nods and tentatively walks over to her new boss, and they continue off into the distance together, soon disappearing from my sight. My eyes fall back to Mark and then over to the luggage carousel. “There it is, that one.” I point to my suitcase as I go to retrieve it.
“Stand back and let a man do his job,” Mark announces.
I feel the womens’ lib hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention. “I can lift a suitcase,” I mutter with a frown. Damn, this jetlag is making me bitchy.
He laughs heartily. “That’s why you have me. I’m going to look after you for this entire trip.”
I fake a smile. Oh, great. Lucky me.
* * *
“Its on the third floor,” Mark tells me as he unlocks the bottom front door of my new apartment block. The building is old and smells musty.
I feel the apprehension swirl in my stomach.
We walk up the flights of stairs in silence until we get to number fourteen and he unlocks the door, holding it open for me. I peer in like a curious child.
“It’s a nice apartment.” He smiles.
“Yes.” I nod, still unsure as we walk in together. “Thank you for organizing everything.”
“And your room is through here.” He opens the door and I smile. Oh… my bedroom is nice. It has a large bay window with a window seat. It’s airy, big, and painted white. The bed is Queen size and the headboard is cast iron in a mint green kind of color. There is also a desk, a large wardrobe, and a full-length mirror on the far wall. I look around and for the first time since leaving home, I feel excited. Mark throws my suitcase onto my bed. “The others wont be home until after six. They’re all working.”
“Okay.”
“And I have taken tomorrow off work so I can show you around London.”
Oh, he’s being so nice. I smile broadly. “Thank you. That would be lovely.”
“Would you like me to make you a cup of tea or something?” he asks.
I nod. “Yes please.”
He disappears into the kitchen.
I walk over to the window and pull the sheer curtains back and look out onto the street below. There’s old houses and apartment blocks and terraces down the street. I smile proudly to myself because I did it. I did this. I’m in London and this is really happening.
Mark reappears with my tea. “Do you want to go out for dinner tonight?”
Hmm. I am as tired as hell. I frown. “Do you mind if we take a rain check? I’m exhausted and would really just like to sleep.” I sip my tea as I watch his face.
“Of course.” He fakes a smile. “I will pick you up about nine in the morning and we can explore London?” he offers hopefully.
I smile in relie
f. “Sounds great, and thank you for being so great today.”
He stands and his eyes search mine. Oh no. He’s coming in for a kiss. He leans in and I quickly peck him on the lips. “S-see you tomorrow,” I stammer.
He pulls back and I see disappointment cross his face. “Goodbye then.” Flustered, he leaves in a rush.
“Goodbye.” I smile, but as I watch him disappear down the stairs, my heart drops and I feel bad.
This is not what I had imagined and I have absolutely zero physical attraction to Mark.
Shit.
Chapter 2
“Knock, knock.”
I pry open my groggy eyes, slowly waking to the sound of a strange voice. I sit up in a rush. Shit, where am I? My eyes dart around frantically as I struggle to gather my bearings. The door opens slightly.
“Hello?” A girl smiles through the crack. “Are you okay?”
Oh, it’s my new flatmate. “Hi. Please, come in.”
She slinks around the door and smiles. “I’m Vanessa.”
Vanessa is young, much younger than me, and she’s skinny with black grungy hair with a thick fringe. She’s dressed in a black dress with thick black tights and knee high punk leather boots. “I’m Emerson. Sorry, I must have fallen asleep last night. I did plan on waiting up to meet you.” I smile nervously.
She smiles back and flops onto the end of my bed. “That’s cool. Hank.” She calls.
I frown. Who is Hank? A nerdy looking guy pokes his head around the door. “Hello.” He smiles, he has a very strong English accent.
“Hi.”
“Hank lives with us.” Vanessa smiles. “He’s studying biochemistry and doesn’t really do anything else so you have to boss him around.”
I grin as my eyes flicker back to Hank. He smirks mischievously and holds his hand up in defeat. “Guilty.”
He walks in and flops down on my bed, next to Vanessa. He’s wearing an old ripped t-shirt and only his boxer shorts.
“Thanks for having me, guys.” I say nervously. “I really appreciate it.”
“That’s alright.” Vanessa stands. “Do you want some breakfast?” She puts her hands on her hips. “Hanks making eggs, aren’t you Hank?”
