Red Knight: (Red Knight #1) Read online

  I brush my thumb over his embossed name and sit on the edge of my mattress. It squeaks loud and makes me jump. I tap the card on my hand and blow out the nerves. How has he invoked this inferno in me; these emotions in me? And the god awful need for something I haven’t needed in a long time.

  So you’re either going to call and use you seductive intellect to lure him to you. Or put him back in the open drawer Liz. You have until your chest erupts to decide.

  I take my Sony M2 from my bedside table. I touch the keypad and twiddle the card. Okay, here goes. I look down at his name. Even that makes my gut hurtle. Very slow, I type in his number. I hover my finger over the green bar, tap the screen, and screw up my eyes. It rings, and rings, and with each tone I lose the ability to move. The tone stops. Silence. Shit!

  “Hello,” I utter.

  ‘This is the messaging service.’ Good god, no Liz, do not do it. ‘For Mr Knight, who is currently unavailable, please leave your name and number after the tone.’

  The tone goes, and there’s a dreadful long hush. I don’t say a single word, and end up juggling with my mobile so it drops out of my hand, and lands on my bed.

  “Crap!” I punch end call several times.

  Balls. Now he might call me back. One-four-seven-one, Liz, did you not think of that?

  I tell myself, if my stupid phone rings tonight and it’s an unknown number, I will not answer. I’m going to deny all knowledge of my impulsive actions.

  There’s a knock on my bedroom door and it opens. Cate pops her head in. I dive on my bed, and slam down the lid of my laptop before she sees Mr Knight posing sexily on my duvet. I flush all hot and blow out loudly.

  “Oh my god Liz!” She squeals.

  Oh great. Here we go, she saw didn’t she.

  “Are you cyber-stalking Mr Knight?”

  I drink down the guilty bump in my throat. There’s just no getting out of this. I’m going to have to put a deadbolt on my bedroom door, to stop her bursting in whenever she feels like it.

  She smiles brazenly, and picks up the card from my bed. Her eyes grow huge, and with a gaping mouth she glares, waiting for me to spill the beans.

  “Sweetheart.” She sits on my bed. “Tell me all about it.”

  Oh this is just fabulous. She has her big sister head on. She’s always been the same. Agony aunt, whether I need one or not. I sit up straight with a sigh. Maybe talking will help. Or not. Either way I have no choice.

  “He gave you this?” She holds up the card.

  “Yeah, last week,” I admit. “He came to see me at work. Was all mysterious, vanished, and left me this.” I snatch back the card.

  “So, he’s got to you hasn’t he… and looking at the state of you in a big way.” She puts her arm around my shoulders. “Maybe you should go and get him out of your system.”

  What she’s implying is impossible for the likes of me. I’m no good in the art of seduction. If it were Cate, she’d be over there right now, launching herself at him with absolutely no shame. I’ve not had that kind of experience. Yes, I’ve had sex. But with one person, Nathan. And that turned out to be not so much a mistake, but a learning curve made by both of us years ago.

  “You’re waiting for Mr Right, and these days’ men like that don’t exist Liz.” She squeezes. “Have fun. Take a leaf out of Nathan’s book… didn’t stop him after you two broke up.”

  I shuffle up a little and smile awkwardly. I want rid of her, and the best way is to go along with what she says.

  “I’m fine,” I sigh, lifting up his card. “See.” I rip it up into pieces and drop it in the bin. “I was just being curious, that’s all.”

  She stands, and walks to my door. “Well there’s nothing wrong with looking Liz… lighten up.” She goes out into the hall.

  “Cate,” I call. She revolves, so her dark blonde hair swishes over her shoulder. “Don’t mention this to Nathan.”

  She smiles, “Mention what?”

  ***

  It’s 9am Saturday morning, and I’m just about to leave for a four hour shift at Aroma. I pass by my bin, see the torn card, and freeze up. I bend down, finger through the rubbish, and pull out what’s left of Mr Knight. This is so stupid. He has to stay in there. Even if I do piece him back together, I’m never going to call him. I let it go and take off quickly, before I go in search of the cello-tape.

  ***

  The bell above the door rings as I enter Aroma, and I’m greeted by all the staff who work here. Harry and his wife, Ronda. Racheal, Dave, and Shell, all sitting with coffee. Immediately, I become aware something bad is about to happen.

  Harry is standing with several envelopes in his hand. They all watch as I cautiously take off my jacket. I frown, and place my bag over the back of the chair, wondering what the reason is for this gathering and icy atmosphere.

  “Liz, can you sit please,” Harry asks.

  I squeeze by the two tables that have been placed together, and sit next to Shell. Her expression is sullen. I drag a chair out from under the table, and when the scraping sound stops, Harry clears his throat.

  “So” He pauses as he fills his lungs. “I have called this staff meeting, and I’m glad you have all shown up.” He looks down with concern at Ronda. “It is with great regret that I have to inform you… that I’ve had no choice, but to sell the shop.”

  “What!” Dave barks, slamming his back in the chair.

  Dave has worked here since leaving high school. Ten whole years. Each one of us rely on this job to make ends meet. And it’s been sold, without a single word to any of us. Ronda begins to cry. Harry rubs her back and chokes up.

  “What can I say?” His eyes well. “Circumstances have changed, and Ronda and I have thought about this long and hard.” He places the envelopes on the table. “There is good news though. The shop will be refurbished, and will still need staff.” He shrugs, emotionally. “If you show commitment, your jobs will remain safe under the Beans brand.”

  This place has become a second home to me. It’s second nature to work here. Even though it’s not my dream job, this is still distressing.

  “This is bullshit Harry… I’ve worked my ass off for years for this place.” Dave shoots up and snatches up his envelope. “I won’t work for a chain, you know that.”

  I purse my lips, because I feel the same way.

  Harry lowers his head. “Guys, I’m sorry, but like I’ve said, my circumstances have changed.”

  “Well, now all of our circumstances have… haven’t they?” Dave charges through the shop and leaves.

  I glance around the table. Racheal doesn’t seem too bothered. She bites her thumbnail, not paying attention. And Shell, well, she has her hands into everything; three jobs she works. So I guess her losing one isn’t such a big deal to her. Me on the other hand, I’m not sure what I’m going to do without this place. I look at Harry. He stares, waiting for me to speak out, but I can’t. Emotional, I rise from the chair, take my envelope, and go behind the counter to wait for customer one.

  Harry kisses Ronda goodbye at the door. He walks over with his grey brow low. I don’t understand; this place is their nest egg. Another ten years, maybe then they could have sold to retire.

  “I’m sorry Liz.” He leans against the counter. “It’s been a difficult decision.” His eyes begin to water.

  I hate men crying. Can’t cope with it. Men only cry when there’s no light at the end of the tunnel. I pull out a napkin from the stack below the counter.

  “Harry, here.” I pass it to him. “Things will work out.”

  I don’t know why I said that. I want to ask him what the hell am I supposed to do now; how do I pay my rent? But Harry’s been good to me, and I’m not as forward as Dave.

  ***

  I’ve worked under a big dark cloud all morning. Smiling and being polite hasn’t lifted my spirits. To know I only have two more shifts working here is soul-destroying. So what, most would say. It’s just a coffee shop job and there are hundreds more out there
. But I bet none like this. I fit in well here.

  I take a quick break halfway through my shift, while Shell takes a delivery from Brown’s Bakery. I’m standing at the backdoor for some air. I really could do with a cigarette right now. To fill my lungs with catarrh, and experience that instant calming hit. But I’ll stick with a strong coffee. I can’t start now; not after being smoke-free for almost two years, no matter how shitty my day is.

  I hold the envelope in my hand and stare at it. May as well open it to see what I have to live off until I find another job. I pull out a letter stating when the shop closes, and when it will re-open. Also the possibility of internal interviews for existing staff. I laugh to myself. No one who works here should have to be interviewed for a job they already do. It’s a joke. I pull out a check for the amount of one-thousand pound. Enough to cover three week’s rent, but not food. I close my eyes, stuff the check into my pocket, and pour my cold coffee down the drain as I make my way inside.

  I serve my last customer of the day as Racheal gets ready to take over. I put on my jacket when Nathan swaggers through the door, removing his grey scarf. I sigh, altering my collar.

  “Liz.” He notes my sombreness.

  I silently close the hatch, and with my head down make my way out onto the street. I didn’t want cry in the shop, and knew the moment he asked me what was wrong, I’d end up blubbering in there.

  I hear Nathan’s breathing as he catches up with me. “Liz.” He takes my hand to stop me in my tracks. “What’s up?” His eyes crinkle with concern.

  “I have no job… as from next week.” I let out a tear.

  It’s knocked me in a big way, like the end of an era, and I’ll miss it. Given, it’s a messy job, and I often smell like a sweaty old man when I’ve finished my shift. But it’s my own bit of independence in this big city. It’s daunting to think I’ve got to start over.

  Nathan takes me in his arms and I need it. I need to feel the comfort of a man’s touch.

  He draws away from my body in alarm. “Stop it Liz.”

  He knows. He probably sensed it from the way I ran my hand over his neck in a needy way. I didn’t mean to. Right now, I’m feeling as chaotic as a monkey with a knife and fork.

  “You’re better than that place anyway.” He sweeps his thumb over my wet cheek. “It was a stepping stone, that’s all. Something on your way up.” I look down at the icy pavement. “Tonight I’m taking you out,” he says matter of fact, softly pushing up my chin.

  I’m in no mood to be painting the town red. “No Nathan… I can’t.”

  “Yes, and you can’t refuse,” he insists. “Remember the good old days,” he smiles.

  I chuckle. “Not very much.”

  “There it is.” He brushes his fingers down my cheek, smiling tenderly. “Well, we are going out. We’ll drink the bar dry, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll treat you to a kebab, smothered in garlic sauce on our way home.” He pecks my forehead. “Now you know you can’t refuse that.”

  Chapter 4: The Mill

  “I can’t believe I’ve got to work,” Cate sulks, jangling the keys for Beryl.

  She hates missing out on anything. Especially if it involves booze, men, and music.

  “Is your hair okay?” she asks.

  I let her free on my locks tonight. Otherwise I would be going out like I was, reeking of coffee. This time I gave specific orders: loose curls, and no backcombing whatsoever. And the mood I’m in, she complied.

  “Yeah,” I sigh, holding up the scanty dress she’s loaned me to wear.

  “There’s just no pleasing some folk,” she witters in jealousy, opening the latch on the front door. “Liz,” she calls. “You go out and get laid, you deserve it.” My eyes revolve as she leaves.

  I step into the dress. It’s a black tight number that clings to every nook and cranny. I pull the straps up over my shoulders and brush down my hips, trying to add a bit of length. If I can just get it an inch further down my thighs I’ll be satisfied.

  I look in the mirror and turn sideways, sucking in my belly. I’ll do I suppose. I’m only going out with Nathan. He’ll probably just take me to Finley’s again, and serenade me on the karaoke all night.

  I pull on my biker boots. Yes, that’s right, my comfy knee-length, black leather, fur-lined boots, that I have no difficulty walking in. Then I spray some Hugo Red on my black jacket to rid the work smell. I scrutinise myself for a moment, uncertain of my appearance. I look like I’m about to go to a rock concert. Oh, to hell with it. It’s winter anyway, and I’m sort of aiming for that punk look.

  To say I wasn’t up for a night out, I’m now sitting on the couch with a glass of white wine, waiting for Nathan. He’s late, three minutes to be precise, and if I have to wait another three, I’m not going. I bounce my restless legs while clock watching.

  There it is, with thirty seconds to spare, he knocks.

  I open the door to see his eyes spark open. “Wow, check you out,” he jokes, swirling his finger like Gok Wan. “You is digging that look girl.”

  “Shut up, Nathan.”

  I shuffle by him and close the door, irritated because he’s being so upbeat. He alters the collar of his navy blue jacket over his cream polo shirt.

  “Maybe I should change.” He looks down, unimpressed with his attire.

  “Come on.” I pull on his arm. “This was your idea… So don’t stall, or I’ll be going back in there.”

  “Okay my lady, your carriage awaits.” He holds out his arm.

  I frown. “Where we going?”

  “Ah-ah.” He taps his nose. “Away from here, where you’ll be ploughed with drink, and you can dance your heart out.” He grabs and tugs me eagerly, as I conclude Finley’s it is then.

  ***

  We’re in a black cab. I watch as we move by Aroma and Finley’s. Hmm, at least I won’t be subjected to Nathan’s tone-deaf vocals tonight.

  Snow begins to float down from the sky and melts as it hits the windscreen. Great, the white stuff looks pretty, but being in it without my thermals on, is not a great start to the night.

  “Here.” Nathan shoves his vodka flask in front of my face. “Warm-up before we start.” I take the steel flask and wipe the rim he’s just drank from. “For fuck sake Liz, you’ve had your mouth around…”

  “Nathan!” I gasp. “Shut up.” I gulp down two huge mouthfuls of Smirnoff; I’m going to need it.

  “Whoa, easy girl.” Nathan snatch’s his liquor back, as I wipe a drop from the side of my lip.

  The cab pulls up to the curb and I look straight ahead. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

  I launch over Nathan’s knee and grasp at his flask again. I swig and wheeze out with vodka burn. I watch the spotlights dancing in the night sky, highlighting the sleet falling directly above Smiths Mill. There’s a queue of people waiting to get in that stretches the length of the street. The six story building has been adorned with lasers and lights, and is now simply called: The Mill.

  “What’s up?” he asks.

  Okay Nathan, this is my problem. I know you and I used to sleep together, and you’re my best friend now. But the guy who owns that building, well, I would really like to do things with him, I never dreamt of doing with you. Of course I can tell him that; if he was like a thousand miles away, and on the telephone.

  “Hey, you up for this?” he scowls, fighting to get the flask out of my mouth.

  “Hmm,” I squeal as he snaps the flask from my sweaty hand. “Sure.” I quickly get out as he pays the driver.

  Nathan links up to me as we hurry to the back of the queue, with our heads down in the blustery snow. It’s absolutely freezing. Bitter. Nights like this are meant for staying at home with a nice cup of coco, and the heating on full.

  I shiver as the line slowly grows smaller. I’d say ten percent of the people waiting, have been sent away. Kids with fake Id’s don’t cut it here. There are bollards and security staff, keeping us in stringent military in order.

  I hoi
st my head as the snow turns to hail, and see security cameras rotating in all directions. The music booms from inside, and some of those waiting in the queue, begin to yell at the staff about the length of time it’s taking to get inside.

  “Opening night, bottle of free wine for every customer, it’s bound to bring out the crazies.” Nathan nods in the direction of some yob, trying his luck with a gargantuan bouncer.

  A member of security staff approaches with his hand held over an earpiece. He stops on the other side of the thick red rope, and eyeballs Nathan up and down. Quickly, I unzip my bag so I can show him my driving licence, which clearly and truthfully states my date of birth, the 28th of June 1993.

  “Miss Lovell.” He lifts the rope. “And sir.” He dips his head at Nathan. “Would you please follow me?”

  Nathan scrunches his face. “Why?”

  “Sir,” he nods. “Miss Lovell, you’re free to go inside,” he says.

  Nathan utters in my ear, “How the fuck does he know your name?”

  I bat my eyelids. My brain is freaking out. I shrug my arms and try to remain cool, as I silently curse myself for not running away. I should have never got out of that cab. Shit. I should have never left the flat.

  “I don’t know.”

  Nathan huffs, oblivious to my private meltdown, and bends under the rope. I glance up at the security camera. I’m suspiciously anxious. There’s a reason we’ve being given priority. Mr Knight has seen me through that lens. He must have. Oh god.

  “Liz, come on.” Nathan bobs on the spot. “Freezing my manhood off here.”

  I nervously follow, as the people waiting furiously question why we’re being prioritised.

  We’re shown through a side door, and up a deep red painted staircase. The vibration of the music is felt on each step. We climb four floors, and with each one the beat reduces slightly.

  Nathan pulls open the black double doors, and we enter a vast room full of city types mingling. It’s dark, nightclub dark, with a cool blue lit bar, and shelving full of popular and exotic liquors. In the centre of the room, there’s a brushed chrome rail in the shape of a large square. I run my hand over the cold metal, and see the jam-packed dance floor three floors below.