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babylooneytoonz · 4 years ago

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(A/N- Not my gif. Found this lovely one on Google and have no idea who it belongs to. Let me know if it's yours and I'll credit you.💕)

Warning(s) - ANGST, WAR & mentions of violence, character death.

Quick links- For those who haven't read the Prologue & Part 1, you will find all of them here.

Trip Mines & Broken Hearts [Tommy Shelby x Reader]

Part 2

It wasn't until weeks after that day you saw that blue eyed boy again.

It would have been a lie to say he didn't cross your mind once since then—

When you weren't treating casualties or you were curled in your bunker, your reading glasses plastered to your eyes and an old , tattered book that belonged to your elder brother rested against your thigh, you found yourself thinking of him, wondering if he was doing okay, if he was alive —

A part of you felt guilty— you should have thought of your brothers, prayed for their safety, prayed for the war to get over so you could all go back home, but you couldn't stop yourself from wondering if Thomas Shelby had made it so far, since the last time you saw him.

A few miles away, in a basement of an almost crumbling building, the soldiers of the 8th Service Battalion were trapped. The only exit was blocked by piles of rocks that had come crashing down when a trip mine had exploded, taking the life of a fellow comrade. Tommy stood by the stone wall, leaning against it, holding his body for support, a lit fag in his fingers, his lips belting out smoke as he exhaled. Right in front of his eyes, three of his comrades, which included his brother John, were digging with their bare hands, trying to burrow a hole into the ground so they could get into the other side and get out of this godforsaken place.

Tommy's fingernails were soaked with blood and dust, his nails almost broken for he had been the one trying to dig with his bare hands an hour back and had only taken a break to take a little rest. His observant eyes scanned through the men that were tumbling in and out of his vision, yelling amongst themselves, talking or trying to come up with a plan but his eyes were fixed on one person— Jasper.

He looked just like you, his raven black hair was just the same shade as yours, only shorter. If you decided to one day chop off your locks, you'd pass as his twin. Tommy dumped the cigarette butt to the ground and at the same time, his hand flew to his neck, clasping his fingers against the locket that you had given him. It felt warm against his palm and he knew he should have given it back to the black haired boy in front of his eyes.

Maybe this was meant to be his lucky charm, a token of love from his sister, something that was meant to protect his life. Although he wanted to go and talk to the black haired boy, a part of him did not want to part with the memory he had of you— a part of you that was now clinging to his neck.

Maybe it was his selfishness, or it was just his thoughts of you, the fact that you occupied a corner of his mind more than anyone these days, he bit on his lip hard and kept his mouth shut. He will talk to Jasper, but later — once they were out of this place.

And they did.

Only how—

It was almost twelve hours; the men were hungry, starving beyond their wits and the basement smelt of piss, sweat and blood. Finally, a yell rang through the lads' ears. A hole had finally been dug. They were free— they could go to the other side now. One by one, the men started crawling through the hole and their heads emerged on the other side of the basement, where bright moonlight shone though the glass windows, providing them with respite. There the door was, right in front of their eyes; all they had to do was get out and breathe the fresh air. Anything was better than the stale, bloody air in this place.

Tommy was speaking to his brother when from the corner of his eye, he saw three boys, one of them (Y/N)'s brother. They walked up to the front door, placing their hand on the doorknob, they pulled it open when suddenly, there was a click.

"DUCK!" Tommy screamed at the top of his lungs, as loud as he could, jumping to the ground, shielding himself underneath a table when a loud explosion happened and the screams of the three men in front of him drowned into his ears. His palm flew to the locket that dangled from his neck and a sudden guilt hit him.

"Jasper, no! Fuck, fuck. No." Tommy slid out of his hiding spot, cowering slightly just in case there was any more explosion to happen, making his way through the furniture that was lit on fire around him. There, in front of his eyes, lay the young man, covered in blood and soot, coughing.

Tommy fell on his knees, sliding his hand underneath Jasper's head to lift it up as he could see that he was still breathing, although very faintly.

"Jasper, hold on. We're going to get you to a bloody hospital, you know?"

Breath by breath, Tommy could see life sliding out of the young boy's body and it hurt him.

"Listen, mate, I met your sister, she's at the camp, she's a nurse, a fuckin' good nurse and she will —"

"She has no - no one except m-me and Johnny—" Jasper's breathless voice cut him off, whispering, his voice cracking, his chest heaving up and down.

"Come on, don't you fucking die on me here. I promised her I'll take you to the camp the next time I need fuckin' stitches."

Tommy placed his hands on the young boy's chest, pumping his heart, trying to get him to open his eyes.

"Tommy—" John's voice called out to him but he ignored him.

"Tommy" This time John's voice was loud, causing Tommy to sharply turn his neck towards him. Underneath the layers of blood and soot covering his face, he could see the sadness in John's eyes. "He's gone, Tommy. He's dead." John whispered, his voice barely a whisper.

The darkness surrounded you, but it wasn't peaceful; you could hear the sounds of occasional grenades and trip Mines somewhere at a distance and you could sometimes hear a cry of pain. You had to force yourself to clench your eyes shut and press the pillow tight against your ears to block out any sound. You wondered if life could get any worse than what it already was—

Letting out a frustrated groan, you sat up in bed, rubbing your tired, sleep deprived eyes as you snaked out of bed, your feet touching the floor. Without making any noise, you sneaked out of the bunker, not wanting to wake up anyone inside as you walked out. You looked up at the sky, the moon was shining bright — it was a beautiful full moon; a lovely starry night, but it was ironical how no one could see beauty in it. All we could see was blood, death and cries of pain.

Your arms wrapped around your body instinctively as a chilly breeze hit you, causing a shiver run down your spine. It was then when you heard the sound of the crunching of leaves somewhere across you, causing you to sharply look forward, until the familiar silhouette of the blue eyed boy came in your view.

"Tommy!" You exclaimed, your voice expressing a sudden joy you didn't know you could even feel.

You didn't know why; what connection you had with him but it felt like someone you'd known for ages had finally come back back to you. You ran in his direction, wanting to embrace him.

"You're back! You—" Words stopped from your mouth when you saw him up close. He wasn't happy. His face looked worse than how you'd seen him the last time— yes, physically too but more so, emotionally. You could see a scar in his eyes; you knew something had happened. His eyes were sunken, hollow, his face devoid of any emotion.

"Tommy—" You whispered his name, your words dripping with pain; it was strange to say that you felt it, genuinely, whatever it was that was bothering him. There was a connection and you could feel a pain building inside you as well, looking at him— so distraught.

"Say it," you pleaded with him.You knew he knew that you were in no mood to play games; that you knew that something had happened and you weren't the type of a girl to beat around the bush.

Your eyes moved along with Tommy's hand as he slid it into his pant pocket and pulled something out. Within the next second, you felt his fingers brush against your hand, his hand finally taking a hold of your hand and turning it so your palm was wide open. He then placed something cold against it and you looked down, the silver glistening against your now tear clouded eyes.

Your locket—

You bit your lip.

He was dead, of course he was.

You didn't cry or break down. You looked up at the sky and your lips curled into a weak smile. He was finally free; free of the torture, of watching countless people die and he had died a martyr. You were proud, needless to say. But your heart felt heavy. It didn't matter if he'd died a martyr's death, what mattered was that he was gone— your baby brother was gone and he was never coming back.The next minute you knew, you were on your knees, your face buried against Tommy's chest, his arm holding you gently as he let you whimper against his chest, his hand stroking the back of your head.

"I'm sorry, I'm fucking sorry. It should've been me maybe. I didn't give him the locket, I thought—"

You kept listening, all the while you had your face buried in his chest, a stabbing pain rising in your chest.

"I wanted to keep it for myself. I should've given it to him."

It didn't matter anymore. He was dead.

You don't remember how long you cried for—

It was probably minutes—

But once you were done, you wiped any traces of tears left in your eyes and put on a brave face. You were still sitting on the ground but Tommy was now standing, wondering, if there was anything he could say to you; to comfort you.

You didn't need it—

No amount of words can comfort you, and he knew it.

So he slid his hands into his pocket and turned away, slowly walking away from you.

"Tommy, wait." You weakly called out, and he froze, not turning towards you. You stood up and with slow, dragged steps, you walked up to him and placed your hand on his shoulder, nudging him to turn towards you and face you. He had to fucking face you, you deserved that much. "Look at me, for fucks sake." You hissed, your voice harsh, his body immediately stiffening in response to it. But he did what you asked him to do. Slowly, he turned around and your eyes met his icy blue ones.

He had expected you to slap him, scream at him and curse him but he had least expected you to do what you did then. You swallowed the bile forming in your throat and brought up the locket to his neck, clasping it around, letting it hang from it.

"Although it didn't protect him, I always hope it protects you."

You took a step away from him but this time, he caught your wrist, pulling you back towards him.

"Y-you don't hate me?" His voice was filled with anguish.

"It wasn't your fault. Maybe this was how it was meant to be. If there's anyone to blame, it's me. Instead of praying for them to be safe, I hoped and wondered if you were okay—" You softly whispered, looking down at the floor.

Tommy left the wrist he was holding reluctantly and this time, you gave him a weak smile and turned away. Watching you leave tore through his heart but your words providing his aching heart with a medicine, your words which he'd heard, the fact that you had thought of him, the fact that you'd wanted him to be safe. The fact that you cared for him. You wanted to be alone; to grieve. So he let you be. But he kept standing there, watching you with awe in his eyes. He wondered what he'd done good in life, to meet a woman as pure as you were. And now, a sudden selfish desire filled him up completely.

He wanted you. He needed you now. And he had to have you.

A/N: thank you for all the love I've received so far. And thank you to the creators of the lovely GIFs. 💕

#thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #peaky fucking blinders #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby x reader fanfiction

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hasufin · 6 years ago

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I am now the proud owner of two very aggressively masculine coffee mugs. (Which is not to say that a woman cannot own these, but there’s no doubt both were created with the intent to sell them to men.) To those who know me, this is kind of funny. I’m not big on performative masculinity. I have found that I am perfectly capable of indulging in traditionally feminine pursuits without sacrificing my gender identity. And increasingly performative masculinity also means toxic masculinity, and that’s bothersome to put it mildly. So it’s funny that I would have these two mugs. The grenade one is especially funny, because it references the entire culture of how people are impossibly grumpy without their coffee, and I am basically immune to caffeine (though it’s still not a great idea to disturb me before I’ve had my first cup because who wants to be bothered that early in the morning?) That being said, I don’t really mind seeing stuff that’s marketed to men, that’s made to be distinctly masculine - especially when it’s something which is typically considered very feminine. As a child of the 80s in America, I can say that the most common taunt of bullies, the one they’d fall back on when they had nothing else to latch onto, was gender identity. “Fag”, “queer”, “girly” - it was what they used to attack others. It should come as no shock that even after 30 years, that sort of thing still makes many men twitch. There’s a lot of trauma there. So of course many men will shy away from floral-scented body gels and bright colored clothing and anything else they associate with femininity: those are things which make you a target. So we tend to go with performative masculinity for that reason - it’s comforting, it’s safe, and it’s familiar. Who wants to be reminded of childhood trauma while doing the dishes or having breakfast? Which is why I do get pretty upset at those who decide it’s “funny” to call my bag (what, did you think I could fit a laptop in my pockets? Yes, mens’ jeans have functional pockets but they’re not that big) a “murse”. It’s an intentional attack on someone’s gender identity. Odds are really high that when you use a taunt like that - whether YOU think it’s in good fun or not - you’re harkening back to a lifetime of insults and bullying. Hey, you don’t get to decide what trauma others are allowed to have. And it’s only funny if you’ve chosen to not think about how mean it is - you’re still being an asshole, whether you want to admit it or not. All that being said, these two mugs are pretty neat. The Alcatraz one is very functional - it’s stainless steel and nigh-indestructible; I take it camping, and also it holds heat way better than you’d expect. The grenade one is just kind of funny. But once the novelty wears off I’ll probably go back to my more normal mugs. I have a neat one that’s in the form of a matchajawan but with a handle, though mostly I use these nesting mugs I got at World Market because they’re small and I finish a cup before it’s cold.

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godforbidwomenhavehobbies · 7 years ago

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grenade

Pairing (s): Steve Harrington x Jonathan Byers, Will Byers x Mike Wheeler (mentioned)

Warnings: Self-hate,Self-harm, eating disorders, anorexia, gay love i guess

Word Count:

Part 1/1

(The demogorgan never existed btw, El still exists, she’s just Will’s sister, Jonathan and Nancy are friends because Will and Mike are dating cute ik)

a/n this is modern!stonathan thx

Jonathan Byers enjoyed taking pictures. Anyone who had ever seen him in public or really anywhere could tell you that, due to the fact of him literally always having his camera around his neck. Jonathan took pictures of lots of things. The small lake near his house, his siblings, his records, the sky, you name it, Jonathan took pictures of it. His favorite thing to take pictures of, however, was himself. Not in the mirror, or posing for pictures with his little brother and hoping that they were both in the frame, no. Jonathan took pictures of his tiny, bony wrists, and his hipbones sticking through the band of his boxers. He took pictures of his small hands reaching towards flowers, and of his fingers triggering a lighter. Jonathan displayed most of the pictures he took of things like Will and Mike around his room, most of his walls filled with the black and white shots, but the pictures of himself he kept secret. They were stuck in a pale blue folder, which was hidden under a stack of old essays in a drawer in his desk. The last thing he needed was someone like his mother or Will or Eleven to see them, draw the connections between how skinny he was and how little he actually seemed to eat, and the hateful, tear splashed messages written on the back of the pictures and realize that something was wrong, very wrong. The only picture of himself that he had out in the open was one that Will had taken of him, where he was mid-laugh, sitting on a blanket on the 4th of July, fireworks in the sky. His cheekbones looked sharp as knives, and you could clearly see his collarbones. It was the only picture of himself that he liked.

Steve Harrington longed to one day be the subject of a Jonathan Byers photograph. He watched the shorter boy take pictures of Nancy striking a ridiculous pose against a wall after school one day, both of them gathering around Jonathan’s phone and laughing obnoxiously at the results.He watched Jonathan take pictures of his hands when he thought nobody was watching, not that Steve ever got close enough to see what was so interesting about them. Sometimes he stuck his head into the darkroom that the school reluctantly set up for the photography department, citing a need for “authenticity” or whatever, that Jonathan used after school sometimes to develop his pictures. Jonathan was only in there one out of sixteen times he looked, and it was awkward because Steve looked at the picture of Nancy in bed for too long and Jonathan smirked at him. They never spoke a single word to each other until Tommy texted him in Trigonometry and informed him that “we’re messing with the fag, byers, today after school. we gotta make sure he’s not taking any pictures he’s not supposed to”. Steve agreed, because if he was there, he could control the situation and make sure nobody went too far.

Jonathan exited the building from the West doors, headphones secure in his ears, blasting Wet’s “Don’t Wanna Be Your Girl”, and keeping a close grip on his bag, which contained twelve pictures that would immediately be going into the blue folder, two pictures of Mike and Will giggling and blowing bubbles, a picture of El sticking her tongue out at the camera, and a picture of the four boys and El playing Dungeons and Dragons in the Wheeler’s basement. That was one of his favorites he had ever taken. Mike’s face was partially covered by the big book, but you could see his shining eyes and quirked up nose. Eleven was smiling widely at a joke Dustin had told. Will was making his little puppy dog eyes at Mike. Dustin and Lucas were laughing obnoxiously at Dustin’s joke with cokes in their hands. After he had taken it, Lucas dropped his pop on the carpet, and Mike had leaned over the table to peck Will on the lips, causing El to wrinkle her nose in mock disgust and Dustin to pretend to gag. Nancy and Jonathan were babysitting them that night, and the kids had all fallen asleep on the living room floor just after 2 AM, Mike and Will holding hands loosely, Dustin and Lucas each curled up to a bag of candy, and Eleven still holding her figurine from the game.

He was met at his car by the three people he detested most in life. Well, the two people he detested most and Steve Harrington, who he couldn’t really figure out. Whenever Steve was alone, he was kind, almost friendly to Jonathan, but when he was joined by Tommy and Carol, he became cruel and vicious for no reason other than to impress his stupid friends. Tommy smiled at him unkindly and stuck an arm out to stop him as he tried to move past them to get into his car.

“Hello, fairy boy. Just curious, what exactly do you take pictures of all the damn time? Because it’s kinda creepy, and weird.” Tommy narrowed his eyes and took a step closer to Jonathan

“I-I-I don’t take pictures of anything except my-my friends and the sky and stuff.” Jonathan stuttered out, looking down, wishing Nancy was here to help him, but Nancy had left school early for a dentist appointment, Jonathan was alone.

“Bullshit. Stacy, you know Stacy? Stacy Miso? She walked into the dark room the other day and saw some weird pictures of Nancy Wheeler that you were hanging up. Pictures of her asleep.”

“No, Nancy and I are friends, I-I-I was staying at her house, we were watching the kids together.” Jonathan blushed, he had given those pictures to Nancy already, she loved it when he took candid pictures of her where she “actually looked pretty”, in her words.

“Save it, freak. If you take creepy pictures of Nancy while she’s sleeping, I wonder what you take of other girls at school?” Carol giggled at this, but a glare from Steve shut her up. He still hadn’t said a word.

“Tommy, I don’t take pictures of anyone without their permission except for my friends and my brother and sister, so please, leave me alone.” Jonathan tried to shoulder his way past Tommy, who in turn yanked Jonathan’s messenger bag off his shoulder and tossed it to Steve.

Steve silently opened the bag and pulled out the sixteen photos Jonathan had developed that afternoon. This was it. Everyone was gonna know now. Those twelve photos were some of the best he had taken of himself. There was even a particular damning one of him holding a lighter and burning his bony wrist with it. (He used self-timer, which was pathetic enough as it was.) He closed his eyes and waited for the confused questions that would come first, and then the laughter that was sure to come and then oh god they would tell everyone and Nancy would ask Mike what was going on and Mike would ask Will and Will and Eleven would tell their mother and his life was over he might as well just end it now- and then he heard Steve speak.

“Guys, go home.”

Wait, what?

Evidently, Tommy thought the same thing, because when Jonathan opened his eyes tentatively, Carol and Tommy were no longer looking at him. They were looking at Steve.

“I said ‘go home’. I can handle this.”

“What are you playing at here, Harrington?” Tommy ground his teeth, speaking under his breath to Steve.

“I’m not playing at anything. There are no pictures of anyone you know in here, unless you make a habit of knowing dorky middle schoolers. So go home. I can take it from here.”

“Whatever, Steve. You’re fucking weird, man.”

Tommy shook his head and grabbed Carol’s hand, leading her away from the two boys standing by Jonathan’s car.

“So you’ve said, Tommy.”

Tommy and Carol get into Tommy’s Mercedes and speed out of the parking lot.

“Thanks.” Jonathan moved to grab the pictures and his bag from Steve’s grip, but he merely moved them out of his reach.

“Don’t thank me. Explain. What the fuck is this?”

“What’s what?”

“Don’t play dumb, Byers. What the hell is this? Why are you taking pictures of some skinny ass wrists and shit?” Jonathan blushed and shuffled his feet at that statement.

“‘M not skinny.” He mumbled to the ground.

“What?” Steve narrowed his eyes at this, hoping he had heard wrong.

“I said, I’m not skinny.” Jonathan looked at Steve while he said this, hoping he would just drop it.

“This- This is you?” Steve looked as though he had a bad taste in his mouth, and he kept staring at the picture on top of the pile.

“Well, yeah.”

“Wanna explain to me why the fuck you’re so skinny? And why the hell you’re burning yourself in this picture?”

“I just told you, I’m not skinny. And I don’t have to explain anything to you, Harrington.” Jonathan reached for his stuff, and this time Steve relented, passing it off to him as thought it meant nothing.

“Let it go, Steve. I mean it.”

Jonathan gets in his car and drives away, watching Steve in the rearview mirror, hoping to God he doesn’t mention anything.

Hey ok so let me know if you want a part 2 to this! I hope you enjoyed it!

#stranger things #stonathan #steve harrington #jonathan byers #mike wheeler #nancy wheeler #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #eleven #will byers #stonathan fanfiction #eating disorder tw #self harm tw

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murdochmysteriesimagines · 7 years ago

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We Won't Lose Anyone Tonight-William Murdoch

Request: can u do another war au with reader being a soldier and mirdoch going into battle

A/N: Trying a new layout because for some reason it's the only some things appear when they are typed (I don't know how to explain it), let me know if it's for better or worse. I wanted this out earlier in the week but time was not on my side. Regardless here it is and I hope you all enjoy.

Setting: WWI AU

___________________________________

Part 1

"Yes sir, understood." Lieutenant Price hung up the phone.

From his chair in the dugout Murdoch could tell his superior was nervous. As he fidgeted in his own chair, rhythmically tapping his fingers on the table in front of the two men.

"Orders sir?" Murdoch cautiously asked hoping for a negative answer.

"Command is ordering trench raids all along the trench line, 01:00 hours." Price answered, beads of sweet forming along his hairline accompanied with a vice deprived of any emotion. A cold feeling comes over William, he tells himself it's just the atmosphere of the dugout but he's only lying to himself.

Fighting in this war was never pleasant but trench raids were a task almost everyone hated. Close, claustrophobic, hand to hand combat, the only objective to capture enemy equipment and soldiers, or simply kill them. Never gaining ground and just hoping it wasn't you who ended up dead on the muddy ground of a trench.

All of this was irrelevant to Murdoch however. If he had orders he would carry them out, regardless of personal opinion. Taking his helmet from the table and standing Murdoch asked a follow up question.

"How many this time?"

"Twelve, you and I included, tell them to grab weapons and meet back here for midnight, no rifles." Price didn't look up to his the Sargent, instead starring into the distance as if he could see through the mud wall and into no mans land. Nodding Murdoch excited the dugout, dreading the assignment of recruiting men for their possible death.

Part 2

You sat on a wooden create, weathered by the mud and rain but still a passable seat to whoever wanted it. In your hand was a photo of your unit all dressed in clean uniforms with serious looks on each face. It was taken back during training before you were sent into the horror that was the trenches.

You made a habit of looking and naming each man in uniform in your head. At the same time compiling a list of those who had past on, who would never have another photo taken of them. You did this so you would not forget anyone who fought along side you, so the names on your list were not forgotten, that same list always getting progressively longer.

Your name being called brought you out of your day dream. Tilting your head up you see Sargent Murdoch approaching, a stern look on his dirty face. Standing to formally address the Sargent he waves a hand in front.

"At ease y/n." He was never a fan of the formalities, less so when it was from someone he considered a friend. Reclaiming your seat Murdoch takes a box beside you.

"Got the old photograph out I see."

"Something to do in between shifts." You calmly answer, placing the photo back into your coat pocket and pulling out a tin of cigarette You offer one to William but as suspected he declines. Placing a fag in your mouth you struggle to light a match while asking a question.

"How did your meeting with the Lieutenant go?"

"Alright, the stress is showing wether he'll admit it or not."

"Hard to blame him."

You strike the match again, this time a small flame appears giving warmth to your freezing hands. Lighting the cigaret you inhale the much needed tobacco. Sighing in relief you continue your line of questions.

"Any new orders from command Will?"

"I dare to say yes, trench raid tonight." You get a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, taking a drag from the cigaret you respond with the exhale of smoke.

"So when will the briefing be?" Already knowing what Murdoch's next sentence would be.

"Midnight, Prices dugout, bring melee weapons only we don't want a repeat of last time."

You flinch at the memory of Peters charging a German in the last trench raid. How his bayonet was easily dodged in the tight space and he was rewarded with a knife in his chest, another name to add to your list.

"That won't happen again Will, we won't lose anyone tonight." Your voice grizzled ah the thought. Murdoch pats your shoulder before rising to his feet, no doubt in his way to recruit more soldiers for tonight's mission.

"I hope hope your right y/n." William says before walking off.

You lean against the dirt walk if the trench, pondering the possibility of tonight. It was never certain what would happen in battle. An unlucky grenade could result in the end for all men present, but that was not acceptable for you. Inhaling again on the cigarette you repeat that statement to yourself, hoping the more it's said the more accurate it will be.

"We won't lose anyone tonight."

Part 3

Price checks his pocket watch for what must be the third time in the last minute. According to the briefing all raiding party's were to leave at exactly at one. Simultaneously attacking kilometres of German trenches to cause mass confusion. The path was already you would silently take was already mapped out, weapons sharpened and everyone loaded with grenades handed out at the dugout. All there was left to do was wait. Price closed the lid of the watch and in a loud whisper speaks to the eleven men standing on both sides of him.

"Thirty seconds, check your kit."

Silently everyman follows the order. The Lieutenant and Sargent triple checking their service revolvers, assigned to the higher ranks while you go over your own kit for the fourth time that night. An empty rough sack on your back for supplies to steal, grenades in place of your ammo pouches, combat knife and sharpened spade is all you'll bring with you, that and the clothes on your back. This only takes a moment, leaving more silence among all of you, no one brace enough to break it.

Again Price checks his clock, in the same motion he steps into the bottom ring of the trench climbing ladder. The other soldiers moving close to a ladder soon after. Beside you Murdoch made the sign of the cross, causing you to break the silence. Your voice, barley a whisper but still too loud for the environment.

"Do you think God will help us sir?" He turns back to you, fear not found on his stern expression but instead his eyes, almost as if you would jump out of his head.

"I hope so." Like yourself, his voice is only loud enough for you two to hear it.

Not a second later Price addressed the men in whisper yell before crawling into no mans land.

"It's time, let's get to work."

#mudoch mysteries #ww1 #imagine #william murdoch imagine #william murdoch x reader #william murdoch #fanfiction #murdoch mysteries fanfiction #reader insert

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withasmoothroundstone · 7 years ago

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This has been at the front of my mind lately, because I can't help but see in our public discourse so many of the same destructive impulses that ruled my former church. We celebrate tolerance and diversity more than at any other time in memory, and still we grow more and more divided. We want good things — justice, equality, freedom, dignity, prosperity — but the path we've chosen looks so much like the one I walked away from four years ago. We've broken the world into us and them, only emerging from our bunkers long enough to lob rhetorical grenades at the other camp. We write off half the country as out-of-touch liberal elites or racist misogynist bullies. No nuance, no complexity, no humanity. Even when someone does call for empathy and understanding for the other side, the conversation nearly always devolves into a debate about who deserves more empathy. And just as I learned to do, we routinely refuse to acknowledge the flaws in our positions or the merits in our opponent's. Compromise is anathema. We even target people on our own side when they dare to question the party line. This path has brought us cruel, sniping, deepening polarization, and even outbreaks of violence. I remember this path. It will not take us where we want to go.

Megan Phelps-Roper, who grew up in the Westboro Baptist Church(1) and gave a very interesting TED talk(2) about leaving it.

(1) If you have somehow not heard of them by name, they’re the church (in)famous for protesting funerals, their slogan “God hates fags”, and other general acts of hate (and attempts to spread that hate).

(2) There’s a transcript underneath the video if you don’t want to watch video or prefer transcripts to captions or want to pull out a quote really easily (like I just did) or really any reason.

#hate #homophobia #antisemitism #listening #empathy #social commentary #TED talks #Megan Phelps-Roper #Westboro Baptist Church #echo chambers #holding the door open

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drhoz · 8 years ago

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Necromunda - Debriefing

Guilder Onille of the Long Drop Chamber of Commerce gave Crator a Look. Onille's simian servitor clambered up on to his shoulder, attention flicking from the enforcer to the merchant to the dataslate on the table. Crator stood to attention, and badly wanted to loosen his collar.

"Crator."

The unfortunate officer of the law twitched to an even tighter attention.

"Sir?"

"I distinctly remember, when you were here yesterday, that I asked you to impress me."

"Yessir."

"And I'm impressed. Really, I am. I'm IMPRESSED THAT SOMEONE COULD FUCK UP THIS BADLY."

+++ [ The Previous Day ] +++

"Mack, could you come in here a minute?"

Crator stubbed out the lho-stick and tucked the fag-end behind his ear. Things had been looking up - Hari and her Delaques had stitched up the Iron Martyrs a treat, and only the other splinter group and those frakking Spyrers remained to deal with, before things could return to normal.

"Anything I can help you with, sir?"

"Maybe. I'm not going to criticise you, Mack - crime rates around Long Drop are the lowest they've been in years, so obviously you're doing something right."

"Thankyew, sir."

"But maybe you'd like to explain the letter I got this morning?"

The scroll was unsigned, but the plastivellum was of the highest quality. And the ornate skull embossed into the wax probably wasn't a good sign.

IF THE ENFORCERS OF LONG DROP CANNOT AT LEAST PRETEND TO BE DOING THEIR JOB, ONE MIGHT BE FORCED TO INVESTIGATE THE KIND OF PEOPLE THEY ASSOCIATE WITH

Crator started to sweat.

"Myself, I don't much mind whatever kind of deal you have going with the Legitimate Businessmen's Social Club. Like I said, serious crime is way down - apart from those Spryer killings and those bloody Redemptionists, obviously - but you've managed to piss somebody off."

"No idea what you mean, sir."

Onille gave him another Look. His cyborg monkey's electronic eyes glowed amber and red. Crator had always hated the little freak - he'd heard Furious George had digital weapons in place of some of the finger bones, and that Onille had once used it to kill a business rival up-hive, before 'moving his business interests' to Long Drop. But there were always rumours like that.

"Of course you don't. But I think you're going to have to do something about this. And soon. Impress us with your zeal. Understand me?"

"Understood, sir."

+++ [This Morning, 0600 Hours] +++

"Are we really going to do this, boss?"

Crator checked the mechanisms of his shotgun for the fourth time. Ahead, he could see the control hut where the Legitimate Businessmen had gathered for their regular meeting with the enforcers. Looming up and around them were the rusting towers of the promethium cracking plant and a nest of gantries, balconies, and smaller pipes.

"Yeah. Lob a few grenades in first, okay? If the gas takes them out, maybe we can round some of them up without having to hurt anybody. Hit them with a few fines, let them go, everybody is happy."

The others looked doubtful. Privately, Crator agreed.

"OK, everybody - visors on. Cut the lights."

Spider, Werwolf and Burgess were running late for the meeting, and were effortlessly picking their way across one of the walkways towards the cluster of huts. Spider paused, and adjusted his goggles.

"Is that Mack? What is he-"

The lights went out.

+++ [Today - 1400] +++

Onille stabbed a finger at the offending report.

"It says here that half of the refinery is wrecked, Crator. HALF. And you're telling me you managed to do this with a GAS GRENADE???"

Crator nodded, miserably.

"Yessir. I don't know what to say, but it really was just a gas grenade."

+++ [This Morning - 0610] +++

The choke gas grenade arced up into the darkness, and back down towards the open window of the control hut. It clipped one of the guy-cables strung between the second and third distillation stacks, and ricocheted up into the nest of umbilicals underneath the half-ruinous walkway between the stack and the main tank. There was a pause, and the weak explosive went off, with just enough force to sever the last bolt holding the walkway together, the others long since burned through by a slow drip of acid from the industrial levels in the dome above.

Crator and the other enforcers watched the walkway swing down like a pendulum of doom. The Delaques on the roof of the structure were already diving off, as metal tore and screeched above them, and then the entire prefabricated building was struck in the side and launched off its foundations, to skid across the floor like a giant angular cockroach. There was a certain amount of yelling from inside, and slack-jawed silence from the enforcers.

The hut slammed into the base of Distillation Stack Three, and shattered two of the supports holding it upright. There was an ominous creaking, over the shouts and oaths from inside the hut, and from the Delaques who had dodged the initial collapse. And then the tower stacked to fall, slowly, toppling like one of the mythical trees Crator had once heard about, pipes tearing free, rivets spanging off into the darkness, and volatile liquids gushing out over the machinery. It fell onto the main stack of Vat Nine, and the compressed gas cylinders bolted to that side launched themselves back across the dome as their valves were severed, and punched their way into the tanks to Crator's right. The entire side of Vat Nine collapsed, and the promethium sludge within gushed out in a meters-deep deluge of grease and oil, just in time to meet the debris of the connecting walkways coming the other way. Crator numbly admired the double somersault one of the condensors made as it was flipped halfway across the dome, and into the main transformers, before the resulting explosion started a chain reaction across the far end of the refinery.

"Fucking RUN!" he screamed, and then enforcers and gangers were running for their lives, as the plant tore itself to pieces behind them.

+++ [Today, 1410] +++

Onille sat staring at Crator for long minutes.

"... and did you actually manage to catch any of these individuals?"

"Ah... nossir. They all got away. Not a scratch on them, as far as I could tell."

Onille pinched the bridge of his nose. Furious George picked at his remaining scraps of fur, searching for a non-existent flea.

"And what happened then, may I ask?"

"That's when the Spyrers showed up."

There was another long pause.

"Spyrers."

"Yessir."

"Spyrers." Onille drummed his fingers on the table, and smiled at Crator. "That's good news - we can blame it all on them."

(This is what happens when you're playing Blind Fight - Ambush, in a dense refinery set-up, and the Dangerous Walkway and Fragile Roof event cards are in play - all that set-up and the entire bloody place caves in with the first shot)

#necromunda #enforcers #delaque #spyrers

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unqueenlybiscuits · 7 years ago

Note

K-pop hates your nasally tone.

fuck you and your cow

You Don't Mess With The Zohan Script

You don't mess with the Zohan! Come disco. No, no, no.I no disco, I make the fish. Danny, come on, go disco. Oh, okay. Disco! Danny, that looks good. You're gonnabe a hit at your bar mitzvah. So okay, Mr. Big Penachim,I no see you disco. No, no, no. I making dagim.I no disco. A real man, he can discoand cooking dagim. So let's go. Go, go. I get the hummus for you. And for you. Little for me, eh! No. No. Kapara, what is going on! Just some bullshit-uchen. Let's go! Hey, I'm on vacation here.Can't you see this! You promised me time off.Get someone else to do it. Are they gonna hurt him! No one can hurt the Zohan. - Bye, Zohan.- Take care, man. The terrorist known as Phantom... ...was spotted yesterday at aHacky Sack tournament in Beirut. He may be have been trying tobait us by surfacing briefly. We believe he's being kept in a safehouse on the Lebanon border. How is we lose Phantom! Didn't I capture Phantomthree months ago! What, you didn't hearabout the trade! What trade! Zohan, we gave back the Phantom. No! What do you mean,we give back the Phantom! Zohan, relax. It was a good trade.We got back Etan and David. That's all we gotfor a veteran terrorist! Come on, we got hosed here. They threw in a spyto be named later. Come on, Zohan,you have to like that deal. Maybe they're talking about Ze'ev. Ze'ev.Come on, he's not even a good spy. He got caught, for God's sake.He's a stupid. Our plan is to enter the building fromthe front with a team of eight men... ...with an additional 12 menat perimeter positions. Unfortunately, there is a highprobability of collateral damage... ...including property and loss of life,on both sides. Okay, here we go. Excuse me! Come on, is it not saferto send one man into building... ...with minimal coverageto take out the target... ...instead of blowing uphalf the neighborhood! Well, who would do that! Oh, "who would do that!" You know you weregoing to ask the Zohan. Zohan, why you say this! I just laid out an entire planwhich didn't rely on you. Come on, Yaron,you're setting me up. All this talk of civilian casualties,then of course I end up doing it. - But I'm not even asking you to do it.- All right, I'll do it. Give me Avi and Koby as watch,I'll get it done without the mess. Well, thank you. You didn't have to. Oh, I didn't have to, bullschlassah. Have some Fizzy Bubblech. "Kiwi watermelon"! Yeah, is good. "Avalon." Chunky cuts. Zohan, what are you doing!The girls are here. I know, I was watching television. Well, if you want to have fun with us,we're right next door. - Good with the sticky, you should do it.- No, no, no. I am going to dinner with my parents.Just leave me alone. - All right, all right.- It is all right! You don't giggle at the Zohan. You hear me!No giggling at the Zohan. You never giggle at the Zohan. What's the matter, tatele? You haven't touchedyour baba ganoush. What would you think if I tell you... ...I want to leaving the army,start a new life! Why would you do that!You are good at it. It's steady pay. You can't leave,you're one of their best. Besides, you are too oldto take a risk. Stay in the army, play it safe. There's other things I can dobesides war. You don't war. - I was in the real war.- I know, I know the story. 1967. We were surrounded on all sides,outnumbered. - And in six days, we...- And in six days, we won. You won. I'm sorry,I don't have a big, fancy war... ...that lasted all of six days... Six days and five hours.Your generation likes to forget that. Dad, I've done so muchfor the country. When does it end! They've been fighting for 2000 years.It can't be much longer. All of my friends servedthe minimum three years. Why can't I move on!Do something else. Something more creative. Creative, what! You've caught so many terrorists,it's an art. You're like Rembrandtwith a grenade. What will you do! Maybe go to America. What, and haggle overstereo equipment! Wait a minute, Ya'acov. Uncle Levi will set you upat electronic store. You make money, sow yourcreative oats, you come back. No, I don't want to doelectronics store. Then how will you make money! I don't want to say. Zohan, if you can't tell your parents,who can you tell! Come, Zohanele. I want to cut... ...and style hair. You... You fagala? He's fag... Faga... I like hair. It's pleasant,it's peaceful, no one gets hurt. Well, you're only diggingthat fagala hole deeper and deeper. Hello, down there!Hello, in the fagala hole. Maybe he wants Vaseline. Yes, it's so funny. I just want to make peoplesilky smooth. You know the Phantom will try to run,so be ready for this. - Zohan, now!- So let's go. The Zohan. Freeze! I get it, I get it,you guys don't like our country. So we are the bad ones. I'd love to sit and discuss thiswith you, but I'm short on time. I'm just saying.It's not so cut-and-dry. We settled herefor hundreds of years! Good point. None of my ancestors ever steppedfoot in this land. No, you're right. Hey, don't walk away! Come out, come out,wherever you are. Hello, jackass. You think you can oppress my people,landgrabber! But I will never disappear. No one can catch Phantom! So let's go. Very good. Sorry. It's for the cause. Zohan. Zohan, bring it. Why you do this! I feel no pain. No, no, no. I feel no pain. - I feel no pain. This is too much...- No, no, no. I feel no pain. I have told you in other fights. No, no, no. I kill you right now. Look, look, look. The piranha,it looks very painful for you. Is good, is good. Is very nice. Yes, yes. Fizzy Bubblech for me. You like what you see! Time to die. So let's go. Okay, game over. Yeah! I kill! I kill the Zohan! Zohan is dead. The Phantom! Cutting the hair,this makes something beautiful. Instead of shooting it. That's why I had to fake to die. I could have captured Phantom again,but for what! They trade him. I love my country,but the fighting, it never ends. It's like Mr. Scrappy, you bite Coco. Coco, you bite him back. Soon you are both having worms,eating your own poopech... I understand. The pills. Your parents thinkthey know what's best for you. Sleep. It's all about not getting recognized. I know how great I lookedin the beard... but I'll make this work for me,you'll see. Rise and shine, guys.Good morning. Is nice, huh! It's the Avalon. It says I care about the way I look,but I'm still approachable. Oh, you like this! Who wants to go next, guys!Who wants to look silky smooth! Yes. Yes. Oh, where are my two little babies!Oh, come on. Come on out, Scrappy, come on out.Come to Mama, Mr. Coco. Mr. Scrappy. Coco.What happened! Who gave you permissionto do this, huh! Who did! Answer me. Scrappy, was it you!It was you, wasn't it! You're always the instigator. Bad dog. You are a very bad dog.Never again are you gonna travel. Take me to the Paul Mitchellhair salon. - First time in New York!- Yes, my friend. So, what brings you here! I have a dream. I had a dream too. What dream you have! My dream was to come to America... ...and make enough moneyto send for me brothers and sisters... ...so that we all could enjoyfreedom together. - This is good dream.- Oh, yes, it is. - Is dream come true!- No, man. Me brothers and sisterswere hacked to death. But I love the Chinese food here.It's incredible. - Hey, you forgot these.- Those are for you, my friend. Good morning for you.I am here to meet Mr. Paul Mitchell. And who are you! Scrappy Coco.I am here to take a job from him. He isn't in right now. That's good. So I will wait, then. You know what! I'll takeone Fizzy Bubblech, a raspberry. You know,he actually doesn't come in too often. Yes, just tell him I am perfect for this,so let's go. - I am the best.- The best at what! All of this. The cutting, the styling,the making it silky smooth. I wanna know who cuts your hair. Oh, you like this, eh! This is the Avalon,straight from the Paul Mitchell book. I haven't seen that stylesince Luke married Laura. Sister, are you this Laura! You tell Paul Mitchell,Scrappy Coco was here to see him. If I find out he was here... ...or you are keeping himhidden from me... ...I will destroy you. Believe me this. What the hell was this, champ!I'm not paying for that! This asshole cut me off,made me swerve into you! With all due respect,I was in the bicycle lane. You came like a madman.Be glad nobody was hurt. I mean, somebody could've died.I mean, you came... Okay, real mature, sir. Real mature. You do not want to bethrowing bicycles. Look, stay out of my business,Mustafa. "Mustafa"! This is not my name.Who tells you this is my name! Whatever.Salami, bologna, apple sauce. Apple who! My friend, if I were you,I would change the tone. Avoid the pain. Listen, go back to your goddamnedpretzel stand. We got it... - Look what I've got. It's right here.- Please! - I've got it.- Please, let me go. I never work at pretzel stand.You like to insult people! Was that your feet! Yes, it's the feet. The feet uppercut. Here comes the double foot. This is good. Smell it, smell it, smell it.Now take it. - That's for you.- All right, let me go! You said you wanted pretzel! Okay, I'm good. Beautiful. You want some chickens! No, no, no. I fix for you. It's all b'seder. What are you, bionic! No, no, no. I only like the girls. Thanks, anyways. This is ridiculous traffic. Anyway, George insistedwe have the party. - I always get midnight shift.- Could you keep it down, please! I no sleep,I no see World Series Poker. Are you even watching the road! Be nice. He could be a terrorist. - Why Hamdi no get no midnight!- Could you at least change the station! - Hey, that was amazing.- Oh, yes. Where are you from, anyway! Where am I from! Australia. Really!Because you sound Middle Eastern. No, no, no. Similar accents. - Kangaroo. You see!- Sure. This is ridiculous. We're getting out. - Come on, dear.- I've been working longer than Hamdi. - You want me to get you home!- No, I'll grab a cab. You've done enough.That was crazy. Whose lockzie do I have to schluck? Oh, you know you're boning me.I don't know that. It's you. - What is happening!- What's happening! It's bullshaklaga. - We have to go.- Go where! - I'll run you.- What are you doing! This is legal! Scrappy, have another kneidlach.Come on. You're very nice, Mrs. Klayman. It reminds me of my mother's cookingin Australia. Really!It's funny, you don't sound Australian. Yes, no, no, no.This is because I am half Australian... ...half Mount Everest. So this is what you're hearing. Well, Australia,it must be really nice there... ...since they got rid of the apartheid. Oh, yes, the weather is much cooler. So, Scrappy,I understand you cut hair. I will be workingwith Mr. Paul Mitchell... ...as soon as I find outwhere they are hiding him. Oh, Mom, Scrappydoesn't have a place to stay yet. - Really!- Not yet. Well, actually,there's a nice one-bedroom... ...that just opened up upstairs. Nice light, not huge. And they redid the kitchen very well. - This could be good.- Could be good. Could be good. Hey, Mom,do you know where the detergent is! - That's very good.- Oh, my God! What! What's the matter! What's the matter! That's my mom. - It's okay, Michael.- I know it's your mother. She's very beautiful. Michael, I haven't made stickyin two days. - What do you want from me!- Couldn't you wait till I was asleep! - Or dead!- No, Michael. You do... What's he doing now! Why'd that happen!Why'd that happen! It's okay. Let me talk to him. Oh, I can't get up. No, no. You'll feel your legs againin two hours. Michael. Come on, this is nothingto feel bad about. Me sexing your mother. It's beautiful. It's natural. No, I didn't bring you hometo do it with my mother. Why not, huh!You don't want her to be happy! Did you see her! Did you look at her! I don't thinkI can ever look at her again. Michael, her faceduring the big bang-boom! You did not see! She was glowing. Patches. What are you...! Michael, come on. They'll be plenty of timefor you and me. Tonight, I take you to disco, huh!How's this! No, why would I wanna goto a disco tonight! Michael, you should go. It'd be fun! You could use a little stank. Yes, you need your penachimto take a swim. Yeah, a little chicken of the sea.It wouldn't hurt. Disco, disco.Let's do this, Michael. Yes or no! Come on, you get to disco. - All right, fine, I'll go to the disco.- Okay. I do your mother one more time,and then we go. - Wha...!- Seconds already! Oh, yes. Hey. Look at this. This is what you need, man,to let off a little steam, huh! How many times a day do youmake sticky! Two! Five! Twelve! How many times a day!I've had sex once in my life. It was at tennis camp.It was awful. You're too picky, Michael.Maybe that's the problem. Every weed in the desertis still a flower. Look at this. This a big one, eh! But look at the tits.These will bounce nice for you. Your mother, she has huge poopeh. I mean, very wide. But what I see are two big, strong legswrapped around my head, squeezing. So who wants to get somepoontachen? - I wanna get some poontachen?- Well, let's get some. Yes. It's good for you. Nice spinning. This is what I'm talking about.You play this. - I ain't playing this corny shit.- No, no. I need to set themood for my friend. Get out,you Daisy Duke-wearing motherf... - Disco, disco.- Good, good! - Disco, disco.- Good, good! Yes, hello. Hello. Hey, Zohan. Who you looking for! It's okay, no one can hear mein disco, Zohan. Can you believe the poontachatin this place! I'm not Zohan.My name is Scrappy Coco, my friend. What!Of course you are Zohan Dvir. They all think you dead in Israel.I'm not going to tell. Tell what!I don't know what you're talking about. Zohan, it's okay.Don't worry, I'm a huge fan. The way you took outAbdullah Meda in '94. And when you made Melami Benazireat his own shit in '97. I can't believe I'm meeting you, man. So, what the fachmaare you doing here! Come with me. Look, I couldn't takeall the fighting anymore. - What's it all for!- Are you crazy! If I could blow a terroristinside out like you... ...this is all I would do.I'd never sleep. - This is exaggeration.- No, it's not. You made Palami Habdallah's poodlesit on a live grenade. - You gotta show me how you did that.- I don't remember. I was young. So tell me the truth.Why are you in America! I no want to tell you. What! What! Come on. You are the best, Zohan.Whatever you say is good. I want to be hairdresser. You a fagala? I can't believe it. A great warrior, but also a fagalawith the penachim. No, no, no. I like hair. Come on, man, I get you real job. You come by my shop tomorrow. Israeli electronics. Are you crazy! - Everyone will recognize me.- No, you don't look like same Zohan. You have silly haircut now. - I have what haircut!- What! - You say I look silly!- No, no. Who said this! - You said this.- No, no. Nobody say nothing. I don't need your job. I get my own job on my ownat a big salon. You will see. You ever cut a sister's hair before! Yes. Sister, brother, grandma,grandpa, the whole family. I'm good at this. Have you ever workedwith dreads before! This is what you do. No more. This creature slayed. It's not a problem. Okay, he's got me.He's got me. He's got me. Okay. Okay. So we blind him in the eyes.We got you. And we finish him. You back away, I take hold of him.Go! Go! Go out! Go now! Go! This is hair. This is hair. Oh, okay. The joke's on me, eh! A big part of our job hereis making this a fun experience. Of course, of course. For a lot of kids, this is their first cut,and it can be very frightening. - I can imagine.- I don't want a haircut. Get away from me. Let me go. Young man, look what I found here. A nice balloon. Do you want it! It's right here. You shouldn't jump around... ...when this nice woman'sholding a sharp pair of scissors. If you move, she could slip andslice your jugular vein on accident. There's no way to stitch the jugular. All of your blood will be on the floorin four minutes. I've seen this. I've done this.You don't want this. Well, then, at least it's a good time toshave his neck. I would get him quick. When I was your ageI already killed seven men. Maybe you should grow up. I promise you you won't regret. And come back. "Fujigawa"! I don't know that brand.It really isn't... It's not really Fujigawa.It's Sony guts. - Wouldn't it be better with the Sony...- Oh, no, no, no. This is what you want. - Four-hundred fifty.- But the ad says "Sony," and "300." No, no, no. What you going to believe,me or the ad! Four-fifty. Hello, Going Out of Business.Can I help you! Sony, yes. Three hundred. Come in, yes. Very good, very good. Hi. I represent the new ownerof this building. Good for you. Want a birthday cake!What do you want! Yamaha is very good. Did you receive our letterregarding your rent! - This I don't know.- It's being raised to 20,000 a month. No, no, no. This is too much. Eighty-five hundredis all we'll give you. - This isn't negotiable. We can get...- Ten thousand, that's all. We both go home happy. - I'm sorry. We can't settle for less.- Okay, no deal. You come back when youwant to deal. - Sir, you don't understand.- Go. What you still here for! You like me!I have girlfriend. Go. Thank you very much. Hey, look who's here. Come on, not so loud. Don't worry, Zohan.I tell you, they don't recognize you. Yosi. This is good man.This ChocolatÃ© Coco. - Scrappy Coco.- Scrappy Coco. Cooking Who-co! Yes, yes. So you're going out of business! No, no, no, no. Is just a sign.Is good for business. Yeah, so you look me up, man.That's cool. I come for job. Job. So you not big hairstyle! It's not really happening for meso far. So I am here. So let's go. No. No job. What do you mean!You tell me to come here. I can no let you do this.You want to be hair homo. No, so I do this for now.It's all yofi tofi. Is no now. Once you start in electronics store,you never get out. Look at Ephraim. You see! I don't see nothing wrong with that.It's perfect. Ephraim came to America... ...to be racing car driver. But he let slip away. I can hear it. Look. Check your ear. Pinchas wanted to bethe next Bill Cosby. No. Is resistant, no proof.You don't understand! But the store kept pulling him back. Maybe you swimming with the watch. - I'm not swimming...- Is resistant. Yosi wanted to be a hand model. What, you don't like this! Look at this.This is most beautiful. But he got too comfortable here. Press this button, it's free HBO. The electronics storeis a dream killer. And I won't let the Zohankill his dream. You are a real mensch, Oori. You the mensch. Come. What! What's this! You may not go for this,but this place cross the street... - Yes!- They maybe take you. - Is good place!- No, is dump, but they take you. Is on Palestinian side of street. Palestinian! No, no, no.Look, nobody kill you there. Here nobody care. First off, no one kill me anywhere. But Palestinian, no. I've done enoughto my parents already. I just want job for the Zohan. And it kills methe way Phantom bastard... ...getting his buttochim kissedin Palestine now. Buttochim kissed! What's this! He have business. He buy wives. Him! They say his ugly face everywhere. Everyone is runningTo Phantom's Chewy Muchentuchen For the food the heroes eat Kubeh, sambouesk,Delicious muchentuchen You never know who you'll meet You are going to get spoiled. Phantom Muchentuchen! Oh, yeah! This month,order Muchentuchen Happy Lunch... ... and get action figures fromPhantom Presents: Death to Zohan. Unbelievable. This animal gets to live his dream.But, me, l... I can no work Palestinian, no.It's like... I can't do this. Yes, you can. Is your dream to cut hair.You want fight, or you want hair! I want hair. But I'm scared. Is America.You can do anything here. You never done somethingpeople thought was impossible! So you don't want to talk, huh!I'll make you talk. I can do this. Disco, disco, good, good. Disco, disco, good, good. Disco, disco, good, good. Disco, disco, good, good. Disco, disco, good, good. So you have never cut hair before. I have cut my own hairand several dogs. I have the Paul Mitchell book,I have the stamina, the desire... But you have no trainingor experience. Would you hire someonewith experience in something else! In what! Can anyone here do this! Okay. I have never seen that. That is very nice,but that is not going to help me. No hands. Besides, I have no openings. If anything, I need to scale back... ...since they just raised my rentthrough the roof. Out of nowhere, some guy with a tiecomes in and tells me I need to pay. Stop it! I only wish to learn. I will do whatever it takes. Fine. You can sweep up haira few shifts a week. - You won't be...- No pay. No, no, no.But then, I will become stylist, yes! That could be a while. I will wait turn. You will see. I will get nighttime job for money. Soon the whole worldwill be silky smooth. Zohan. - Carmen Electra has the best tits now.- Oh, please. Oh, my God.I wonder how much she paid for them. They're so perky. You know, leave it to herto buy the best tits. It's always first class with that one. You know you don't have to catchevery piece of hair as it falls. Yes, I do. You deserve a perfect floor.One single hair is unacceptable. As you were. Yes. I got this. "Did you seethe new Kate Hudson movie! I think she is even more vivaciousthan her mother." Scrappeleh, that's wonderful.Now, let's practice on Michael. Michael!Could you come in here, please! What! What is...! Oh, Scrappy needs to practicesmall-talking. Can we do this another time! I havea shot at keeping my food down. Michael, I want to practice now. I'm afraid I'm terrible at this.Why won't you help me! Oh, honey.You are good at everything you do. - Got it.- Thanks. So you're making her silky smooth,huh, Claude! - Framing her face!- Yeah, Scrappy. I'm framing her face. This is smart. A nice layered stylewith the soft bangs... ...is good for a bigger womanlike this. - Coco.- Takes the eyes off the moon face... ...and brings it toward the titzim. Coco. I need to speak to you. In private. Private. A secret! They will never get it out of me,I promise you. Coco, Claude is trying to work. Yes. He's very good. So I am ready to cut hair today.So let's go, let's get it on. No. Let's not go. But I am the best. Don't tell me you're the best. - I have the desire, the stamina.- You've been here two days. I run this place for five years. I think I know when you are readyto cut hair. Okay, Jeez! Get a room, you two. No, no, no. I do not touch thiswith your penachim. Out of respect for the working. No, you don't eat where you shit. Or shit where you eat.Whatever the... The smell is bad. This is called a comb. - With the fingers!- Yeah, yeah, yeah. No, no, no. - Scrappy.- I'm sorry. Here, I take your leg up. I'm sorry about this. I'm sorry. - Okay. All right.- I apologize. - Take him where he wants to go.- Thank you. Okay. - Good luck.- It will be fine. - Your limousine has arrived, sir.- You're observant, Tyler. Thank you, Big Mac. I am really late for a hotel openingdowntown. The Walbridge Hotel. I understand, sir. I know theneighborhoods inside and backwards. - We will not let them stop us.- What! I'm not in much of a hurry. Oh, no. You want some coffee back there! No! I will lose them. Nobody is following us. Oh, shit! Have a good time, sir. Debbie, you did a good job. You look very bangable,Mrs. Rosen. Mrs. Paulson, I must tell you... ...when you first came in,you looked hideous. There was nothing attractive. But now, I must say,my schtitzel, it's about to burst. - It could break these any...- What are you doing! We are talking shop. No. No. - Look, Coco...- What! You need to calm down now, okay! I don't think these customerslike the way you talk shop. Nobody say this. Coco, remember,respect for the workplace. I have betrayed my salon. He's trying to kill himself. - Scrappy.- I deserve this. No, no. Just... Just... Easy on the ladies. I didn't mind. Take care, Mrs. Paulson. She did not mind. Let me disinfect the scissors... ...so someone elsecan make someone else silky smooth. I'll just clean up. Rafaela's Salon. What! No. Debbie, she quit. - What!- Sorry. Claude, did you know about this! I should have told you. She's been looking for a new jobsince those rent guys came around. Then why you no say nothing,little bitch! Don't worry,I'm not giving up on this place. You're a good guy, habibi.I just... I don't know what to do. So let's go. Scrappy, I have enough problemsright now. I not the problem. I the solution. I fix. But if you screw up... I can't afford a screwup right now. No, no, no. I no screw up.I am the best for the job. Yeah, but you push and push."When is my turn"! I have to care about salon. - No, no, no.- No, no, no. You care about you. And don't fightin front of the customer. Mrs. Skitzer,I am afraid our stylist is out today. Would you care to wait for Claude! Does he do hair! He's not a regular. Well, that's fine. She say...I mean, only if it's okay with Dalia. Okay. You will not regret this decision. Mrs. Skitzer, let's cut your hair. Just lay back, Mrs. Skitzer.I'll take care of everything. - Oh, thank you.- Thank you. Sexy woman like youdeserves to be pampered. Me, sexy! Sure. Don't be humble. You've got the ass and titsof a schoolgirl and you know it. And everyone else knows this too,believe me. Yes. Let me get your earring off. I love it. Of course you do.I make you silky smooth. I tell you this. All right, Scrappy.You can cut Debbie's clients today. If they want you. Thank you. I'll get to you all soon as I'mall the way done with Mrs. Skitzer. That all you got, Mrs. Skitzer! Come on, baby. Go, baby. Yes. Yes. So who's next! Come on, Scrappy! Thank you, dear. - It's a lot of speakers.- Yes. Yes. It's orgasmic. Oh, my God. Oh, yes! Grab it, Scrappy! For you. Yes. I give this to you. - No. I am sorry, Mr. Paul Mitchell.- Hear me out, Scrappy, please. I'll give you stock options.I'll name a shampoo after you. No, my loyalty is to here.I will destroy you. I heard about this placefrom Joanne. You have to ask for Scrappy. Yes, is the primarycardholder present! Excuse me! Hello, I am callingfrom Spiegel catalogue. Are you between the agesof 18 and 39! We're trying to talk here. Have you ordered from cataloguein past six months! Could you get off the phonewhile you drive! Hey, what's the matter!I trying to make a living, do my job. This is your job. This is job also. This is not Iraq. I am Palestine, I'm not Iraq. And you're not getting a tip. And you are a stupid cow. Jeez. - And we're done. Okay, you, skedaddle.- Thanks so much. - I'll see you later.- All right. I like this, the red hair. I bet she has a pumpkin patchdown below, yes! I don't know. - Did you tap her tuchus?- No. Why don't you go afterthe snatchacheem in this place! They all want you, believe me. Scrappy, I wouldn't be so sure. I'm telling you,you're not picking up the signs. Come with me.I'll show you a technique. It's beautiful. Hello, Mrs. Haynes. How are you!You want the cut and color today! Yes, please. Thanks. Watch. You see! She's going with it.It's good. Yep. - She has a free shoulder. Come join.- I'm good. Mrs. Haynes,you're getting cold here. Claude, come. Keep her warm. Go ahead. Yes. And gently move.Gently move the shoulder. All you want to do is let her knowyou're here for her. Now look awaylike you're not even doing it. We're not doing this. - Same rhythm.- Okay. Push. Push. Push. Oh, you're pushing harder.It's starting to feel good on my end. I am trying to make moneyto start my own business, huh. Would you say you read Spiegelonce a month, twice... Would you just get usto the hair salon! We're gonna miss our appointment. I curse you, and I curse your hair. What is big dealabout this hair place anyway! They get worse every year. Okay, we'll take them to the truck.We'll just talk to them. But we'll find a... Did you throw this shoe at me,my friend! No! Sure looks like it was you. Then who threw it! Okay. You're lucky I'm in good mood.I'll let you off the hook. Nobody spits on me. Thank you for the goat, my friend. Yes. Goat! Goat. Goat! Goat! Goat. I said, "Can we have the receipt!" Yes. Die in hell. Welcome. We'll color your hair Bling-BlingBlond. This is what you need. You know what else they go for! The... I don't know what you have,but mine is the biggest. This...It does not get bigger than this. It's enormous. Scary. I mean: What! I have the biggest. It's the biggest. Take a look at this. Look. - It's not that big.- It's not that...! No, no, no. The bush. The bush is the biggest. And the girls like thisbecause it's cushion. It is no bullshaklaga. He is the one.I never forget a face. So, what do you want I do! Wait. I conference you. Hello! Nasi, emergency meeting.You're on with Hamdi as well. - Hello, Nasi.- Hello, Hamdi. Can you believehow much they pay Delgado! Yes. Why Mets do this! This is serious. We meet! I explain why is emergency. This is not just manwho take my goat. - Zohan Dvir.- Yes. Everyone think Phantom kill him. Phantom not kill him. We will capture,then make trade with Israel. We will be heroes. But, Salim, we are not Jihadim. Wedon't know for sure that this is him. Let's call Hamas, Hezbollah.Let them handle this. - Leave it to the pros.- No. Hezbollah shmezbollah. Hezbollah will take all the credit.This is our shot. Why not let Phantom capture him! Screw Phantom. He hero already. Where's my chainof muchentuchen restaurants! Salim, don't make thisabout yourself. This is about me. And about him. And about my goat! Come on, let's go! This is nice,the walking inside the outside. The park, the people,the horses, the kid. Well, you're always downtown. You should seea little more of New York. Yes, yes, this is good. The talking is good... ...to get to know each otherbefore the bang-boom. I like. Oh, no, no, no.There will be no bang-booming. I just wanted to thank youfor saving my business. - This isn't a date.- No, no, no. I feel you have helped me so much... The right thing to dois to tap you so hard... ...my schtitzel will come outyour poopech. That's what I think. Look, why don't wejust enjoy the park! No, no, no. This is what we do. Hey, look, softball. - You like softball!- Of course, I love softball. What is softball! Teach me how to. I learned softballwhen I came to the States. When you're Arab, it helps to fit in. Yeah, how long you move here ago! Just a few years ago. I couldn't take it there anymore.All the hate, on both sides. Yes, especially yours. Why you say this! You don't know. No, no, I don't. I read this. The Australian-Tibet mediais very biased. Look, both sides crazy. My own family... My brother... ...if he knew I work cross streetfrom Israelis, he would lose it. - Really!- You have the hardcores on both sides. They just want to fight and fight. Nobody will win this way.It has to stop. When will it end, eh! Yes. Okay, so you must be thirsty, no! Here. Where you get this! This! From specialty shopon West Side. This Middle Eastern drink.You know this! Fizzy Bubblech! No, no, no. It looks pretty good. Oh, try, try. It's very good.Try, have a sip. It's not for me. No! Really! This is his shop. Here is photo for compare. For how long this take!I close the newsstand. Make sure you ask himif he ever hit by shoe. And about the prize goatthat can fetch a bowl of onion soup. Look in his eyes when youask him this, for they will be suffering. - You know, I just got haircut.- Go. Look at this. I feel like Hugh Hefnerwith all you little bunnies around here. Okay, okay,let's see who is going next. "Jorge Posada," where are you! That's me. Okay, good-looking guy,you take a seat there. You're next. You know, you look likeyou already just got haircut. No, no. So I guessing you're looking forsomething in the silky smooth area! - Well...- Because I see you have nice curls. You don't want tocut into those curls. We will talk about this over there. Okay, Scrappy, I wait. Is not like I have a shoe to throw. Sure. Yes. Beautiful. Whatever. I don't have time to go watcha goat fetch soap. - What!- What! I don't know. Listen, my friend... ...you want to talk, it's good,but you have to wait your turn. First I have to cut and bangMrs. Greenhouse. - That's right.- Okay. Well, I'm ready for it. Oh, dear. I am sorry, Mrs. Greenhouse.I am not man enough for you today. Oh, Scrappy, it's fine. I don't know what the problem is.I am going to lose business. Oh, no, dear. You're still adorable. The screwingwas really just a bonus. You are an angel, Mrs. Greenhouse. An angel with a magic throat. Oh, Scrappy! No, that could work.One more, please. Let's see what we got. And we're still nothing. Well! He was very cool. Idiot. What did he say! He think I have nice curlsthat go well with a full face. - But was it him!- Well, it looked like him. But hard to know. I tell you this: he didn't seem to carewhen I talk about goat fetching soap. Soup. The goat fetched soup.You ruin everything. Soup! This makes no sense. Screw you. It's him. I know it's him. The goat fetched soup!This is unbelievable. Go to hell. You said it was urgent! It's an emergency.Please, take a look. Yes, yes. Well, that's not a real problem.You can always shave it. No, not the bush. No, inside the bush.Look deeper. Him. - I see.- He lays in there all day long. Maybe it needs some more oxygen.It looks like it's being strangled. So the Palestinian says to the priest: "Okay, but let's skip the bath." Why, are they not clean! No, is good joke. Honey, are you all right!You've been in there for over an hour. What is this stuff! I mean, I took onesip and I repainted the whole toilet. Is Fizzy Bubblech.You'll get used to it, relax. I don't wanna get used to it.My car couldn't. - All right, that's it for me. I'm done.- What! What! Is everything all right! - Is it about the pee-pee!- Stop it. - The pee-pee!- He can't do with his peepeechosetz. Really!He's usually as hard as trigonometry. - Mom. What...!- When did this happen! The last few days. Of course. It's ever sinceyou went out with that Dalia. Your hog is telling you something.She must be the one. The one! Is this possible! Of course it's possible, man. All the beaverim in the worldand he falls for Palestinian muffich. Why should Scrappy careif she's Palestinian! He's from Australia and Tibet.He's not Israeli. - No, no, no.- Oh, no, no, no. Exactly. What was that, a motor boat! You know, Scrappy... ...a special woman is specialno matter where she's from. Listen to your hog. Someone special. Maybe is good. It's good! It's terrific! I mean, you know,you guys won't be together anymore... ...but Scrappy is in love.That's great, awesome. Thank you for your support. - Is a good boy.- Good boy. This is fun. Let's celebrate.Where's the cat! Let's cat-sack, huh! Throw it to me. - Got you.- Let's play, man. Take it, Michael. Look at you. I wanna try it. Is good. Welcome to Hezbollah phone line. For membership information,press one. For negotiation update, press two. For bonus mile information,press three. For terrorist supplies, press four. We have currently suspendedour terrorist supply service... ... as we are engagedin negotiations with Israel. We will resume service as soon asnegotiations break down. Thank you. Great. Come on. Just think of a bomb. They say you can make bomb fromeveryday's material. You combine. Yes, okay.But what we combination! Just think of chemicals. Chemicals, like in science class. Yes. Who remembers this stuff! Hello. Well, can I help you fellasfind anything! Yes, do you have... ..."liquid nitrogen." You need what! Liquid nitrogen. Yeah. Well, I supposewe have some of that. Now, just a moment. - This is it!- Yes, and that's the large container. This works! Oh, it works quite well. Yes. You use! From time to time. Sure. We'll take 12. Look, you can turn off the water... ...but we will find a wayto keep on going. Oh, you like when I spray you,Mrs. Skitzer! Where's the $ 14,000! I have your rent right here.There is no getting rid of me. We don't wanna get rid of you. Mr. Walbridge would actually like torelocate your salon in our new mall. You mean the one you want to destroythis community to build! It is not our intentto destroy this community. I'll take the community, Pancake. My name is Gray, and I'll be back. Nice to meet you, Pancake. Why Pancake! Just for fun. You were amazing right there. Oh, my God. What! I have one. What! I have zikpah. Look at it. It is you. Dalia, I don't know how to tell you this.I cannot make sticky with anyone else. You are the special one. I will only be stiff for you. Who is Steve! Stiff, with an F. - Stiff. Stiff.- Yes. Okay... ...I know you meant thatin a good way... The best of ways. - so thank you. Thank you. Is crazy. This has never happened. One woman... ...one zikpah... ...one life. You see his face!Scared Israeli son of bitch. Salim, this is not bomb. What you mean "not bomb"! It's grade A liquid nitrogen. Guys, I really need to go home. Inaz have a soccer matchin the morning. - I am hero.- Salim, this not bomb. It just go: Well, just go with it. I scraped some off the window. Maybe you know what is! It's Neosporin, it's nothing.I use it for cuts and genital sores. We're beginning to thinkmaybe someone out to get the Zo... The Scrappy. You mean like a competing salon!That's heavy. Don't be afraid, honey.Don't be afraid. Well, I... Yeah, lick this.No, she likes the tongue in the ear. Oh, I like that bet... Oh, I like that. Close with the brenski. Come on, get some salivaon those bad boys. - She likes it, huh!- Of course she likes it. Okay. I could look for clues. It's my shiftfor community night watch. The what!The communism tight crotch! Oh, it's the communitynight watch program. You know, people in the neighborhoodpatrolling it, keeping it safe. We kick some ass. Hey, why don't you let Scrappy Cocotake your shift tonight! - I bet he'd be good at this.- Oori. What! For clues. I know it sounds scary, Scrappy,but you are gonna be just fine. Maybe I can manage one night. Maybe you can pretzel some people. - Thank you for getting the hummus.- The hummus. Where's Patches! Patches. I'm terrified right now.I'm totally terrified. "Shitting my pants"doesn't come close. I wish I was shitting my pants. It's just a patrol. What if something goes down! I don't know if I'd have the courage. What if something goes downand someone got killed! I would have to live with that.I'd be happier shitting my pants. Much happier. - Let's go.- We're supposed to call the police. No. No time. No, no. No. It's good. Drop the paint. Get out of here, Ahab,or I'll cut your eyes out. - Maybe we should let him finish.- No, no, no. What you cut my eyes out with!The Neosporin! My blade, camel jockey. My friend, the beating I give youif you stop the spraying... ...is much less than the beatingI give you if you try to cut me. What are you laughing at! That was just with everyone. They had it coming to them, right! Yeah. Yeah, it seemed like it. Yeah. - Okay, you take it from here.- I got it. Everything's gonna be okay. What you gotta say about that, huh! You're telling meour guys can't handle... ...some neighborhoodnight-watching losers! We can't even put a scareinto these people! The main guy who got in the way... ...is the same one who's bringingold biddies into Rafaela Salon. My aunt goes there. She says besides the sex,the guy gives a pretty good haircut. Don't talk to me about that dump. I've got a huge,classy hotel standing there... ...and it's staringat that cheap garbage. I want it staring at the Supercuts. Now, has anyone made any headwaywith any of these foreign people! I spoke to the manager of GoingOut Of Business again yesterday. I stated our priceand the urgency of the matter... ...and he offered me two-thirds lessand a Toshiba DVD player. The people at Everything Must Gowere just as difficult. They offered me a Blu-ray discand a jar of hummus. What's hummus! It's a very tasty... ...diarrhea-like substance. Grant Walbridge has a vision. A vision for Lower Manhattanto have the first indoor mall... ...with its own 300-footroller coaster. You know, you're lucky I havea world-class superhot girlfriend... ...with a perfectly proportionedass-to-breast ratio... ...or I'd be furious. She is smoking, sir. I'd payto spend an hour with her, sir. Let me in on that. Well, thank you. But if you bitchescan't get those people out... ...I will find other peoplewho will get the job done. However, whenever. Walbridge! This is where I find them. But I don't know if it's same peoplewho try to Neosporin salon. But you caught them writing this crap,so, what do you do! - You don't mess with the Zohan.- Check it. - Disco.- Disco. - Good.- Good. Why did you do thisto Naseef's store, huh! Why you blame the Israelis! We come to work,go out of business. No, no, no.Is not Israeli who do this. I do community watch.Don't worry, it's all taken care of. Not Israeli! Who else would write"Arab go home"! Oh, I don't know,just maybe 99 percent of the world. - You see what he says!- That was joke. Come on, come on.You guys get along here, stop this. Yeah, here it's okay. It's just there,the war is never going to end. You know, we were so close to peacebefore the asshole shot Rabin. Bush, he see the big picture. Bush no want peace,he set it all back. What about Bush's wife!This is a wife I would get sticky with. I would do this. I would do this. - Yes, yes.- What about Clinton! I would do Hillary. The big legs. Yeah, she look strict,like she's going to teach me a lesson. - Yes, discipline.- You know what's funny! I like Chelsea. You're crazy. She has beautiful legs. If I want legs, I'll take Obama's wife.She has legs. This is what happenswhen they talk politics. No, no, no, wife of McCain! She has the ass,and you know she's not getting any.

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anavoliselenu · 7 years ago

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This man chapter 9

A treacherous moan escapes my lips as he pushes himself against me, breathing his hot, minty breath on my lips. I’m supposed to be bloody mad here. Instead, I’m being held against my will – kind of – and wanting to strip my captor in front of all of my colleagues, who are all squashed at the office door, fighting for the best view.

‘Mouth. You stood me up.’ He presses his lips to mine before he pulls away, his sludgy eyes softening as he looks at me expectantly.

I can hardly tell him why I cancelled now. I imagine he’ll go up the wall. ‘I’m sorry.’ I sigh. Will he accept that? I need to get back into the office and sort my head out. No, I need to go home and sort my head out, preferably with a bottle of wine.

He shakes his head mildly, and then he attacks my mouth purposely, right in the middle of Bruton Street. My fingers thread through his hair as I surrender to his impossibly addictive mouth, without much thought at all. He’s unashamed and oblivious to the hustle and bustle of lunch time pedestrians passing and, quite probably, staring as he completely consumes me. He swallows me up every time. He thrusts his groin forward aggressively, coaxing a moan to escape my mouth. This is a look-what-you-missed kiss, and I’m beginning to damn Matt to Hell.

‘Don’t do it again.’ he orders, in a tone that dares me to challenge him. He releases me from his grip and my feet hit the ground, the loss of support causing me to stagger forward.

He grabs the top of my arm to steady me, causing a slight stab of pain to radiate through me, snapping me out of my spellbound state on a sharp inhale. He drops my arm and stands back from me, his soft eyes raging and focused on the scatter of bruises at the top of my arm, courtesy of Mr Baldy Jag. His jaw starts ticking, his chest puffing, as he stares at my arm.

All I can think about is how lucky Mr Baldy Jag is that these bruises weren’t present yesterday. ‘I’m fine,’ I cover my arm with my palm in the hope that concealing the offending area might snap him out of his fuming state. He looks positively homicidal. Is he mad because I have a few bruises? ‘I need to get back to work.’ My voice is small, nervous even.

He drags his stare from my arm, back to my eyes, looking at me like I’m the offending object. A flash of irritation passes over his handsome face as he reaches up to rub his temples with his fingertips. It’s an obvious sigh of stress.

He eventually shakes his head lightly and stalks off, without another word, leaving me standing on the pavement wondering what in the world just happened. I look down to the ground, my eyes darting about, like I might find the answer written in chalk on the slabs.

Is that it? Is it over? The look on his face said it is. I’m not sure how I feel about that. One second he’s thrusting his h*ps into me on a moan, the next he’s looking at me in pure irritation. What am I supposed to make of this? I really don’t know. I shake myself out of my reverie and head back into the office. The silence is awkward, everyone obviously pretending to look busy.

‘You okay?’ Tom asks, slowly passing my desk. I look up, seeing his usual nosey expression is dotted with concern.

‘I’m fine. Not a word to Patrick.’ It comes out harsher than I intended.

‘Of course, I’ll say no more.’ He holds his hands up in defense.

Fuck! All I need is Patrick to find out that I’m caught up with a client. I should have been stronger and resisted his advances. I’m really not very comfortable with how I feel right now. I think…I think it’s somewhere in the realms of…abandonment?

Chapter 16

I practically crawl through the front door in an exhausted heap. I find Kate in the kitchen, hanging out of the window having a cheeky fag.

‘You need to pack that in.’ I scorn her. She doesn’t smoke much, just a couple here and there, but it’s a bad habit, nevertheless.

She takes a last drag and throws it out of the window before hastily climbing down from the worktop. ‘It helps me think.’ She defends herself. Yes, she claims this whenever I catch her having a sneaky puff. Now, I’m supposed to ask what she’s thinking about, but I already know the answer to that question.

‘Where’s the wine?’ She grabs my bag from me, pulling it open, before looking at me in disgust. I’ve just committed a cardinal sin – I forgot the wine.

I shrug. I’ve had other things on my mind. ‘Sorry.’

‘I’ll go to the shop, you get changed. Fish and chips?’ She grabs her purse from the table as she shoves her feet in her flip flops.

‘Just chips.’ I make my way down the hall to my bedroom. I feel completely deflated.

I sit with Kate on the couch, picking at the chips on my plate. I have absolutely no appetite, and I’m only half watching the re-run of Friends. My mind is all over the place, and I’m so furious with myself for letting it be.

‘Come on then, spit it out.’ Kate demands.

I turn to face my fiery friend with a chip half way to my mouth. I was an idiot if I thought I could get away with mooding in peace. I give her a non-committal shrug, popping the chip in my mouth and chewing lazily. Talking about it will only emphasise the fact that I am actually mooding over it – “it” being a man.

‘You like him.’

Yes, I do. I don’t want to, but I do. ‘He’s bad news. You saw him today.’ I grumble.

She makes a dramatic display of rolling her eyes and throwing herself back on the sofa. ‘You stood him up for your ex-boyfriend,’ She puts her plate on the coffee table in front of the sofa. ‘Selena, what did you expect?’

I frown at her. ‘He didn’t know why I stood him up. As far as he’s concerned, I just stood him up.’

‘Well, he doesn’t like being stood up then, does he? She laughs. ‘Oh, by the way, I’m seething with you.’ She turns all serious.

What have I done? Oh, yes. She must be talking about my little Dan grenade. ‘Would you have preferred it if I hadn’t of told you?’ I ask.

‘You’ve not left me much time to leave town!’ she wails at me.

Oh, the drama! ‘You’re overreacting. You don’t have to see him.’

‘No, I don’t. And I won’t!’

‘That’s okay then, isn’t it?’ I go for subject change. ‘Sam?’ I raise my eyebrows.

‘Isn’t he yummy? Justin came back to the bar – with a face like thunder, by the way – so I left them to it. He took my number.’

‘You’re a tart Kate Matthews!’

‘I know!’ she shrieks. ‘How were things left with the Lord?’ She looks at me carefully, weighing up my reaction to her question.

‘He was still mad, he stormed off.’ I shrug.

She smiles. ‘He’s pretty intense.’

I start laughing. ‘Pretty? I lose all cognitive thought when I’m around him. When he touches me, it’s like I hand over all control of my mind and body to him. It’s frightening.’

‘Wow.’

‘Yes, it’s pretty wow.’

She turns back to the television. ‘I like him,’ she says quietly, almost like she’s afraid to admit it, like it’s wrong to like him. ‘I’m just saying.’ She shrugs but doesn’t look at me. ‘He’s rich, steaming hot and obviously well into you. A man doesn’t behave like that when he’s just f**king about, Selena.’

Well, that may be so, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s cleared off and my phone hasn’t rang since. It’s probably a good thing.

‘Do you fancy a proper night out on Saturday?’ I ask. It’s a stupid question that I already know the answer to.

The look she fires me is mischievous. I grin back at her.

The next day, I breeze into the Royal Park hotel at twelve fifteen, all set for my appointment with Mikael Van Der Haus. I’m directed into a snug sitting area with plush sofas. Gilded frames swamp the walls and a carved fire place dominates the room. It’s typically regal. I’m offered tea which I decline in favour of water. It’s bloody hot, and my black pencil dress is clinging to me.

Twenty minutes later, Mr Van Der Haus enters looking impeccable. He’s really very handsome. He smiles brightly at me, revealing a perfect row of white teeth. What is it with me and older men at the moment? I hastily bat away my wayward thoughts.

‘Selena, please accept my apologies. I never like to keep a lady waiting.’ His mild Danish accent is only just detectable but really sexy.

Stop! I rise from my seat as he approaches, putting my hand out to him with a smile. He takes my hand, but shocks me when he leans forward and kisses me on the cheek. Okay, that’s slightly inappropriate, but I’ll go with it. Maybe it’s a Danish thing. Ha! I would do well to remember what happened that last time a male client kissed me on a first meeting.

‘Mr Van Der Haus, it’s not a problem. I’ve not long arrived myself.’ I reassure him.

‘Selena, this is our second project together. I know you dealt with my partner on Lusso, but I will be involved in The Life Building a lot more, so please, call me Mikael. I hate formality.’ He takes a seat in the chair opposite me, crossing his long legs. ‘So, I’m looking forward to going through ideas with you soon.’

Huh? Isn’t that why I’m here now? ‘Yes, I haven’t really had the opportunity to research the development yet. I was hoping you would give me a brief and a week to get some ideas rolling.’

‘Of course!’ he laughs. ‘I’m being very rude dragging you here at such short notice, but I’m flying back to Denmark on Friday. I have your email. I shall send you the specific requirements. You did such a good job at Lusso. It really does lighten the pressure when you work with proficient people.’ He smiles.

Isn’t he going to give me the specifics now? That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? ‘We could have a quick chat now.’ I prompt.

He sits for a while, regarding me quietly, before leaning forward in his chair. ‘Selena, I hope you don’t think I’m being audacious, you see… well, how can I put it?’ He drums his fingers on his chin. I’m a little worried. ‘I’m afraid I’ve brought you here under false pretenses.’ He laughs nervously, shifting in his chair.

‘Oh, how so?’ I ask baffled. And then it hits me. Oh, no! Oh, no, no, no! I lean back in my chair, instantly tensing from top to toe, and mentally beg the Lord Almighty to talk some sense into him before he says what I think he’s going to say.

‘I would like to ask you to join me for dinner.’ He looks at me expectantly, and I’m sure my face must resemble that of complete horror. I’m burning up. ‘Tomorrow evening, if it’s convenient with you, of course.’ he adds.

Shit! What do I say? If I say no, he might withdraw his business from Rococo Union, and Patrick will go spare. What is it with men suddenly falling at my feet? Older men in particular? He’s way past Justin in terms of age. At least, I think he is. He’s very good looking, but good God, he’s got to be twenty years older than me. I inwardly laugh. At least he hasn’t got me locked in a suite upstairs. How do I play this?

‘Mr Van Der Haus…’

‘Mikael, please.’ he interrupts me with a smile.

‘Mikael, I’m not sure mixing business with pleasure is a good idea. It’s kind of a rule for me. I’m very flattered.’ I laugh at my own audacity. Since when has that been an issue of late? And why did I say pleasure? I’ve assumed, and suggested, that it would be pleasurable to have dinner with him. It might not be, or it very well could be. Oh God! I mentally throw myself into the lovely fireplace.

‘Oh, that is a shame, Selena.’ he sighs.

‘Yes, it is.’ I agree, re-launching myself back into the hearth when he looks up in surprise.

He leans forward. ‘I admire your professionalism.’

‘Thank you.’ I’m bloody blushing again.

‘I hope this won’t affect our business relationship, Selena. I very much look forward to working with you.’

‘I’m looking forward to working with you too, Mikael.’

He lifts himself from the couch, approaching me with his hand stretched out. Thank God! I take it, letting him gently shake it. Did he really just drag me here to ask me to dinner? He could have called me.

‘I shall endeavor to email you at my earliest opportunity. Once I return from Denmark, I would like to show you around the building. Until then, you can draft some schemes. I’ve had the drawings sent to your office, and I’ll email you the specifics.’

‘Thank you, Mikael. Enjoy your trip.’

‘Goodbye, Selena.’ His long legs take him out of the snug.

Well, that was uncomfortable. I sit and finish my water while deliberating over my current emotional turmoil. If Justin was as gracious as Mikael, then I wouldn’t be feeling so shitty right now. Never mixing business and pleasure has never been a rule because I’ve never had to make one. In the space of two weeks, I’ve had two wealthy and very handsome clients pursue me. One I’ve declined, the other I‘ve caved in on. And, as a result, I’m all over the place. Not mixing business and pleasure is now a firm rule and one I intend to stick to. Not that I need to reinforce it. Mikael took my decline rather graciously and Justin hasn’t called since abandoning me. Abandoning?

By two thirty, I’m back in the office. I don’t mention to Patrick the strangeness of my meeting with Mikael Van Der Haus, mainly because I’m concerned that, in the name of business, he’ll demand I go to dinner with him. Patrick will assume it would be a business dinner, but Mikael made it perfectly clear that there would be no business involved. Instead, I just mention emails, drawings and his intention to show me the building upon his return from Denmark. This seems to keep him happy.

I get my phone from my bag, noting no missed calls. I ignore the pang of disappointment and start making a few notes on Scandinavian design. I know I’ll be basing my design around clean, white, easy living, but I’m comforted by the fact that it will be tranquil and warm, not sparse and cold.

My phone rings and I grab it, way too hastily. It’s Kate.

‘Hi.’ I greet in an over the top, chirpy voice. I don’t know why I bother. She sees straight through it.

‘Faking detachment, are we?’ she asks.

‘Yes.’

‘I thought so. Have you not heard from him?’

‘No.’

‘Liking monosyllables today, huh?’

‘Yes.’

She sighs heavily down the phone. ‘Whatever. Have you asked Victoria and Gayboy if they’re up for Saturday night?’

‘No. I will, though. I’ve just got back from a very strange meeting.’ I open my top drawer to grab a paperclip, noticing the calla lily squished down the side of my stapler.

‘Strange how?’ She’s intrigued.

‘I went to meet the developer of Lusso, well, one of them. He asked me to dinner. It was really uncomfortable.’ I grab the lily and chuck it in the bin quickly.

She laughs down the phone at me. ‘How old is this one?’

I bristle at her insinuation. He’s much older than Justin. How much older is unknown, but he’s definitely older. I’ll probably never know now, though. ‘Mid-forties I guess, but extremely handsome, in a Scandinavian kinda way.’ I shrug to myself while guiding my mouse aimlessly around the screen. He’s nowhere near Justin’s league, but he’s handsome, nonetheless.

‘You’re like a mature man magnet at the moment. Are you going?’

‘No!’ I screech. ‘Why would I?’

‘Why not?’ I can’t see her, but I know she has a questioning eyebrow arched.

‘No, I can’t, because I have a new rule…no mixing business with pleasure.’

‘MOVE!’ she screams, making me jump at my desk. ‘Sorry, some prat just cut me up. No mixing business with pleasure, ah?’

‘Yes. Are you driving and talking on your mobile, Miss Matthews?’ I challenge her. I know Margo doesn’t have a hands free kit.

‘Yeah, I’d better beat feet. See you at home. And don’t forget to tell Gay boy and Victoria the plans for Saturday.’

‘What are the plans?’ I blurt before she hangs up.

‘Get drunk, Baroque, eight o’clock.’

Get drunk. Yes, that’s a very good plan.

I leave the office at six with Tom and Victoria. ‘Saturday night, Guys?’

Tom stops abruptly, dramatically putting his palms out with a shocked expression on his smooth, baby face.

‘Oh my God, yes! I brought the most amazing coral shirt at lunch time. It’s divine!’

Victoria giggles, slapping his arse to push him onwards. ‘Where are we going?’ she asks.

‘Baroque at eight.’ I answer. ‘We’ll see where the night takes us.’

‘I’m in!’ Victoria sings at me. ‘But no g*y joints, Tom. It’s my turn to pull.’ she grumbles

Tom frowns. ‘What about me?’

‘You’ve had your feed. It’s my turn,’ she spits, ‘Besides, what about the scientist?’

‘You know, science is actually very boring.’ he grumbles.

We say our goodbyes at Green Park Station. I take Jubilee to Central, while Victoria and Tom hop on Piccadilly.

Chapter 17

‘Morning,’ I know I sound like a miserable cow, but I’m trying really hard not to be.

Tom looks up from his copy of Interiors Weekly and lowers his glasses to the end of his nose. ‘Darling, why the long face?’ he asks. I can’t even muster up the energy to plaster on a fake smile. I slump in my chair, and Tom’s sprawled across my desk, like mature ivy, within a second. ‘Here, this will cheer you up.’

He presents me with a feature in the magazine he’s reading and there, sat casually on the velvet chaise lounge at Lusso, is me. ‘Wonderful,’ I sigh. I don’t even bother reading it. I need to eradicate all things relating to Lusso from my mind.

‘Man trouble?’ He gives me a look of sympathy.

No, not man trouble – there’s no man to be having trouble with. I sulk. I knew it would be the last time I saw him. When he stalked off, I knew deep down that I wouldn’t see him again. I’ve not been checking my phone every ten minutes, I’ve not been mooding over it and I’m not twiddling my hair as I think this. I reluctantly admit…I really miss him. How ridiculous. He was a rebound f**k.

‘I’m fine,’ I find the strength to slap a smile on my face. ‘It’s Friday, I’m looking forward to getting plastered tomorrow night.’ I need a good night out.

‘Are we really getting plastered? Fabulous!’

My attention is turned to the office entrance when I hear the high pitched screech of Victoria.

‘Oh…my…God! You will not believe what I just saw.’ She’s on the verge of passing out.

Tom and I both look at her blankly. ‘What?’ we ask in unison.

‘So, I was in Starbucks, waiting for my double shot cappuccino with extra chocolate, and this guy walks in – I recognise him from somewhere. I’m not sure where, but he’s one hot piece of man. Anyway, he’s just stood there, minding his own, and this woman comes strutting in and tips a frappuccino all over him,’ She pauses to draw breath. ‘So, the woman starts screaming at him, calling him a lying, selfish arsehole, and then just walks out, leaving him dripping in frozen coffee and cream. It was all very dramatic.’

I sit and watch as Victoria recovers from her two breath commentary about the happenings of Starbucks on a Friday morning. Nothing like that ever happens when I’m in there.

‘It sounds like someone’s been a naughty boy,’ Tom smirks. ‘How hot was he?’

I roll my eyes. No doubt Tom would have flown to his rescue.

Victoria hands come up in front of her, palms forward. ‘We’re talking Men’s Vogue.’

‘No!’ Tom takes his glasses off. ‘Is he still there?’

She screws her pretty little face up. ‘No.’

Oh, this is ridiculous.

Patrick comes barrelling into the office. ‘Guys, have we any work to do, or is it fart around Friday?’ He passes us swiftly, heading into his office and shutting the door behind him.

‘You two, let’s get on with some work, shall we?’ I shoo them away from my desk.

‘Oh, I forgot.’ Tom swings around. ‘Van Der Haus called to say he’ll be back in London on Monday. He’ll call you upon his return. He’s emailing you the specifics and had these sent over. Is he hot?’ His eyebrows jump up suggestively as he hands me an envelope.

He’s the biggest g*y tart, but I’ll humour him. ‘Very.’ I take the drawings, widening my eyes for affect.

He screws his face up. ‘How come you get all the dishy clients?’ He walks back to his desk. ‘What I wouldn’t give to have an Adonis walk in here and throw me over his shoulder.’

I wince at Tom’s referral to Justin’s performance the last time I saw him and pull my phone out of my bag when it starts bleeping with a calendar reminder. Oh, my hairdresser’s appointment, tomorrow at noon. I forgot about that. Well, that’s improved my mood slightly. And I’ll be nicely groomed for our big night out. Perfect.

I work my way through heaps of quotations, delivery schedules and contractor requirements, before calling my live clients to check all is well. It is, apart from Mrs Peters swags and tails drama. An email lands from Mikael. I scan it quickly, deciding to look at it in more detail on Monday.

Sally comes scuttling up to my desk with a delivery. ‘Urm…I think this may be for you, Selena.’ She shifts from side to side with a box in her hand. ‘Do you want it?

What? Yes, I want it. If it’s a delivery for me, then I guess I want it. Oh, this girl is painfully anxious. I take the box from her hands.

‘Thank you, Sally. Will you make Patrick a coffee?’

‘I didn’t know he wanted one.’

Oh, the panic on her face has me wanting to make her a coffee. ‘Well, he doesn’t look right. Let’s look after him.’

‘Is he okay? He’s not ill, is he?’

‘No, but I think he could do with a coffee.’ I press, trying my hardest not to lose my patience.

‘Of course.’ She scuttles off, her brown plaid skirt swishing around her court shoes. I couldn’t even hazard a guess at her age. She looks about forty, but intuition tells me she’ll shock me and be nearer my age. I open the box and find all of the material swatches I ordered for The Life Building. I throw the box under my desk. I’ll deal with them on Monday too.

As six o’clock approaches, I pop my head around Patrick’s door. He really doesn’t look right.

‘Patrick, I’m off. Are you okay?’

He looks up from his computer and smiles, but his eyes don’t sparkle like usual. ‘I’m just feeling a little peaky, flower.’

‘You should go home.’ I’m worried.

‘I think I will.’ He heaves his big body up from behind his desk and turns his computer off. ‘Bloody woman’s fed me something dodgy.’ he mutters as he picks up his briefcase.

‘Everything’s been turned off. You just need to set the alarm.’

‘That’s good. Have a good weekend, flower. I’ll see you on Monday.’ He wipes the back of his hand over his sweating brow. There’s definitely something wrong.

‘Okay, see you on Monday.’

***

I stand in my bedroom ready to go. My hair is behaving – happy that it’s been blow dried into tumbling waves, courtesy of Philippe, my hairdresser – and the new dress I picked up from Selfridges was a panic buy to make me feel better but fits perfectly. It’s black, short and very tight. With dramatic, smudged eyes and nude lips, I’m looking pretty sultry.

I walk into the kitchen, finding Kate hanging out of the window having a sneaky fag. What’s she thinking about now? She looks her usual lovely self, in a cream backless dress.

‘Wow!’ she blurts. ‘Someone’s out to impress tonight.’ She jumps down from the worktop, slipping her feet into her gold heels. ‘Short enough?’

I arch an eyebrow at her, running my eyes down her dress. ‘Pot…’

She laughs her carefree laugh that never fails to bring a smile to my own face. ‘Here.’ She hands me a glass of wine. I take it gratefully, pretty much necking it. It’s very welcome. ‘The taxi’s here.’

I dump my empty on the side and follow Kate out to the taxi. I’m looking forward to my recovery night, but ignoring the fact that my recovery night is to recover from a few steamy encounters with a steamy male, and not to recover from the breakdown of my four year relationship with Matt. It’s ironic. I never felt the need to go out and get steaming drunk after my break up with Matt.

We walk into Baroque, spotting Tom and Victoria at the bar immediately.

‘What the hell?’ Tom exclaims, running his eyes up and down my black clad body on a grin. ‘Selena, you look lethal!’

‘Really good, Selena.’ Victoria adds.

It’s just a dress. ‘Thanks,’ I shrug, pulling the hem down.

‘What are you having?’ Kate asks.

Well, I’ve already had a glass of wine, so I guess I should stick. I did say I was going to have a good drink. ‘Rose, but make sure it’s Zinfandel, please.’

Kate orders the drinks, and we make our way to a tall table near the DJ. Tom’s wearing his new coral shirt and too tight jeans – he may as well have g*y tattooed on his forehead, and Victoria looks as pretty as always. Everyone’s really made an effort tonight, me included. Why is that?

As the wine flows down, my troubled thoughts flow away. We’re laughing and chatting, and I’m beginning to feel normal again. I feel foot loose and fancy free. I like it. My Mum has always said “Alcohol makes for loose lips and loose lips sink ships”. This, I have just discovered, is most certainly true because I’m totally lit up, and I’ve filled everyone in on recent events. Considering I wanted to forget about it, I’m doing a bloody good job of hanging on to the memories.

Tom is thrilled about all of the rebound sex I’ve had. ‘So, he just stalked off and you haven’t seen him since?’ he asks critically.

Victoria pipes up. ‘That’s really un-cool.’

Kate rolls her eyes, looking at the pair like they’re a sandwich short of a picnic. ‘Isn’t it obvious?’ she huffs. Tom and Victoria look at each other, then to me. I shrug. Is what obvious? Kate shakes her head. ‘You lot are dense. It’s simple…he wants her. No man behaves like that over a quick screw. I’ve told you this, Selena.’

‘Why would he disappear then?’ Victoria leans in, truly captivated by Kate’s explanation for Justin’s behaviour.

‘I don’t know! I’m just saying. I’ve witnessed the chemistry. It’s way off the scales.’ Kate flops back on her tall chair in complete exasperation.

I laugh. I’m not sure if it’s too much wine, but that’s just…funny. ‘It doesn’t matter. He was a rebound f**k and that’s it.’ My explanation doesn’t seem to satisfy because they all carry on studying me with doubtful looks on their faces. I don’t even think I’m satisfied with my explanation, but it’s been four days and I’ve resisted the overwhelming temptation to call him. Besides, he hasn’t called me or made any further appointments, so that pretty much says it all. I’m moving on. I’m just massively pissed off with myself for relenting to his persistence, putting him in the position to drop me – and he has.

‘Oh, can we change the subject, please?’ I snap. ‘I’m out to enjoy myself, not to analyse the details of my rebound f**k.’

Tom stirs his pina colada. ‘You know, everything happens for a reason.’

‘Oh, don’t start with all that airy fairy crap!’ Kate chides him.

‘It does. I’m a firm believer in it. Your rebound f**k is a stepping stone to the love of your life.’ He winks at me.

‘And Matt was a four year stepping stone.’ Kate points out.

‘To stepping stones,’ Tom sings.

Kate joins the toast. ‘And shots!’

I finish my wine and raise my glass in agreement.

‘Yes, shots!’ Tom shouts, dancing off to the bar.

We sway down the road to our next destination, The Blue Bar. We make it past the doormen, although one does eye Tom’s shirt suspiciously. Tom and Victoria charge for the dance floor when they hear Flo Rida and Sia singing about Wild Ones, leaving Kate and I to get the drinks.

I order a round and take Tom and Victoria’s over, putting them on a ledge nearby under their instruction. The dancing is that serious; they could be some time. When I join Kate back at the bar, she’s talking to a man. She doesn’t know him. I can tell because she’s notched up her flirting by a few gears.

As I approach, she raises her voice over the music. ‘Selena, this is Greg.’

I smile, putting my hand out politely. He looks normal enough. ‘Hi, nice to meet you,’

‘Yeah, and you. This is my mate, Alex.’ He signals to a cute, dark haired guy next to him.

‘Hi,’ I shout.

He smiles confidently. ‘You wanna drink?’

‘No, thanks, I’ve just got one.’ Rule number one: Never accept drinks from strangers. Dan’s drilled it into me since I started going out.

‘Nah problem,’ He shrugs.

Kate and Greg move away from us, leaving me and Alex to make conversation. I didn’t really want this. I came out to be rid of men in general. Now I’ve been lumbered with one.

‘What do ya do?’ Alex asks me.

‘Interior design, you?’

‘Estate agent,’

I inwardly groan. I have an aversion to estate agents – cocky, over confident, gold plated salesmen. Alex is all of these, with the added bonus of a dodgy cockney accent.

‘Nice.’ I say, because he’s just lost all of my interest, not that there was any in the first place.

‘Yeah, got myself a few grand bonus taday. Give me a shit pit and I’ll sell it, nah problem. I’m living it large in Landon and laving it.’ Oh God, slime ball! ‘Ya fancy going out samtime?’

NO! ‘Thanks, but I’m in a relationship.’ It’s a good job Cockney doesn’t know me and my bad habit. I’m twiddling my hair frantically.

‘Ya sure?’ he asks, inching closer and stroking my arm.

I pull away, planning my escape. ‘Positive.’ I smile sweetly, looking around for Kate.

Within the space of time it takes me to raise my glass to my lips, Cockney quickly disappears from my line of vision. It takes me a few seconds to piece together the events that are unfolding before my eyes, but when I do, I’m appalled.

Justin has Cockney in a firm grip around his neck and pinned up against a pillar.

Chapter 18

‘Keep your f**king hands to yourself.’ Justin snarls at a poor, startled Cockney. He doesn’t know what’s hit him. I feel bad; he was only trying his luck. I would have dealt with it. Where did he come from? This is all I need on my night out, supposedly free from arrogant men. Or not so, it would appear. He’s left me for four days wondering what happened, and now he’s turned up, out of the blue, raging like a wild bull. Has he even calmed down from Tuesday?

‘I’m sorry mate. I didn’t mean any offence. Your girlfriend and I were just chatting about shit, ya know.’ Cockney explains, completely panicked.

Girlfriend? Oh! I want to advise poor cockney that I’m not even the girlfriend of the maniac pinning him up by his throat, but judging by Justin’s obvious mood, I’ll decline at the risk of pissing him off further.

‘Justin, let go of him, he wasn’t doing anything.’

Cockney looks at me gratefully. He knows I’m stretching the truth. A few more seconds, and I’m pretty sure I would have been throwing a drink over him. I gently stroke Justin’s arm in an attempt to calm him down, ignoring his warm firmness. He looks like he could explode with anger. I’m pissed. How dare he turn up and trample all over my recovery night.

‘What’s going on?’ Kate arrives next to me.

‘Nothing,’ I snap. ‘Justin, let him go.’

He doesn’t appear to be listening. What am I supposed to do with this? I don’t want to see him. I’m feeling derailed already, and he hasn’t even looked at me yet. I can hardly walk away and leave poor Cockney to bear the brunt of Justin’s unjustified rage. Where the bloody hell has he been for four days?

I’m beyond relieved when Sam turns up on the scene. ‘Sam, please sort your twat of a friend out,’ I turn towards Kate. ‘Come on.’

Kate’s eyes light up like The Blackpool Illuminations at Sam’s unexpected arrival. I hear Sam calmly coaxing Justin from Cockneys throat as I drag Kate away, heading for the dance floor.

‘What was all that about?’ she asks.

‘Don’t. What happened to Greg?’

‘He was a total dick. Come on, let’s dance.’

Tom and Victoria welcome us with waving arms as we join them on the dance floor. I’ve been thrown off guard by Justin turning up. Is this a coincidence, or did he know I would be here? How could he know? I was having a great night, not having thought about him for at least an hour. That’s a record for the last four days. Damn it!

I push Justin out of my mind and soon let The Source & Candi Staton take me to a better place. I love this track.

After half an hour and a string of some great tracks, I haven’t seen or heard from Justin. Sam must have ejected him, or maybe the doormen did. Either way, I’m free to resume the great night it had been up until Justin crashed in. I signal to Kate that I’m going to the toilet, smiling when she acknowledges with a shimmy and a laugh.

As I exit the cubicle, I fish my nude lipstick out of my bag to re-apply, and check my phone to find ten missed calls from Justin. What? Oh, he’s angry all right. But what on earth has he got to be mad about? Any pangs of Justin withdrawal have been extinguished by his unreasonable behaviour. Who does he think he is? I don’t dwell on it, though. I clear the missed calls, making my way back to the dance floor, only to find the others making their way to the bar.

‘Drink!’ Tom clenches his throat in an exaggerated signal of thirst.

It’s Victoria’s round. As I wait for her to get served, a wave of unease washes over me. He’s still here. I know it.

She hands me my drink, her mouth gaping open. ‘Oh…my…God!’

I take my wine. ‘What?’

‘That guy, the one in Starbucks I was telling you about,’ she explains, nodding over my shoulder. ‘There he is. I told you he was yummy.’

I turn in the direction of Victoria’s stare and find her looking at Sam. But that’s not what catches my attention. Every fine air on the back of my neck prickles when I see Justin leaning against the very pillar he had poor Cockney pinned up against, not an hour ago. His severe stare is piercing me, while Sam and the other guy from The Manor, Drew, are busy chatting and drinking. Justin’s not engaging in the conversation, though. No, he’s stood there looking as angry as he did earlier, drilling holes right into me. Victoria’s information suddenly filters into my brain.

I turn back to her. ‘What happened?’

She looks vague as she hands drinks to Kate and Tom. They accept, swiftly returning to the floor. ‘What happened where?’ she asks on a frown.

I roll my eyes. She’s so dim sometimes. ‘Starbucks, what happened?’

‘Oh.’ She’s back in the game. ‘She just walked in, started screaming and shouting, and lobbed a coffee over the poor bloke.’

‘What did she say?’

‘Oh, I can’t remember. She called him a selfish, cheating something or other.’ she flips casually. Sam has a girlfriend? I’ll have to warn Kate, she seems to like him. ‘Hey, he’s with the guy who hoofed you out of the office.’

‘Yeah, listen, keep that to yourself, okay?’

She frowns at me. ‘What?’

‘I mean the flying coffee. And while we’re at it, not a word to Patrick about the hoofing either.’

She shrugs. ‘Whatever. Oh, I love this song. Selena, come on.’

I watch as Victoria dances her way back through the crowd, but I can’t move. I can feel his eyes burning into my back. I know I should just walk away, but the magnet affect he has on me sets me turning towards him instead. He has his phone in his hand, and he waves it in the air in a kind of look gesture. I don’t know why I do, but I do. I get my phone from my bag, and not so much to my surprise, Justin’s name is illuminating my screen. I glance back up, seeing him put his phone to his ear. He wants me to answer it.

The loud music around me fades out into a dull base, pulsing in my ears, and the hum of laughing and chatting diminishes into a low mumble of sound around me. I’m being swallowed up by his eyes. I’m completely immobilised. My senses are assaulted by the presence of Justin Ward, the sight of him triggering all the memories of his voice, his smell, his touch. The unforgiving power he holds over me is playing the Devil’s advocate with my intelligence, and my heart is hammering a wild, uneven beat in my ears.

I watch as he lowers his phone from his ear, shaking his head. He starts towards me. I see Sam look in my direction as Justin leaves their group, Drew flipping his eyes up too. They both look uneasy at Justin’s obvious target.

I momentarily recapture my senses when Sam grabs Justin’s arm to pull him back, but gets shoved out of the way. The music and activity crashes back into my brain. I plead with my legs to listen to the sensible side of my brain and take me away from here before my stupid side allows me to fall victim to his physical magnetism again. I abandon my drink on the bar and kick my legs into action, bolting through the crowd, knocking people out of the way, as my retreat becomes fraught with the need to make it to the safety of the toilets. No contact and no derailment. Hazardous doesn’t quite cover it. He’s proved tonight exactly why I need to avoid him like the plague.

I throw the cubicle door shut, fighting to secure the latch as he pushes against the other side, hindering my attempts to keep him away. My adrenalin is pumping. For the briefest of moments, I think I’ve managed to block his access because the resistance on the other side eases, but not enough to for me to get the lock engaged.

‘Selena, I’m coming in or you’re coming out. I don’t want to hurt you, but if you don’t stop fighting me, I’ll break the f**king door down.’ His breathing is heavy.

Resting my back against the door, I try to get some air into my lungs. I look up around me. I’m cornered. You would think I would be safe in the ladies. I can’t look at him, I’ll cave if he gets is hands on me. I need not to be in this f**king position! How did I get myself in the situation? I jump when the bang of a fist on the door resonates through me.

‘God damn it, Selena!’ Bang! ‘Selena, please.’

I repeatedly jolt forward under the thumps of Justin’s fist. I’m screwed. ‘Go away, please!’ I shout.

His fist collides with the door again. ‘No, f**k. Selena!’

I just have to leave. He won’t restrain me in such a public place. I need to walk away. Block it out…block him out. There’s silence. I hold my breath. Has he gone? I stand quietly for a few minutes, my eyes darting around the small cubicle, constantly looking up to check he’s not coming over the top. He’s gone. I stupidly relax against the door.

Within in two seconds flat, I’m thrust forward and he’s in. When I turn around, there’s less than a foot between us, and the first thing I notice is his rapid breathing, his black shirt lifting with the rise and fall of his chest. I stare at his jeans. If I look up at his handsome face, I’m at an instant disadvantage.

‘Selena, look at me.’ he demands harshly. I clap my hands over my ears, lowering myself to the toilet seat. I need to block it all out. ‘Selena, why are you doing this?’ he asks.

Oh, how long have I got to sit here and block it all out? I start humming in my head as I stare down at the floor. I feel his hands clap around my wrists, pulling my hands away from my ears. His touch heats my skin. Why does he think I’m doing this?

‘I don’t want to do this in the toilets of a bar, Selena.’

‘Then don’t.’ I try to regain possession of my hands but, as usual, he overpowers me. ‘Please, just let me walk away.’

He slowly crouches down in front of me, still holding my wrists. ‘Never.’ he whispers.

The tears in my eyes spill over, splashing the top of my bare knees. ‘Why are you doing this to me?’

He clenches my jaw, pulling it up so I have no choice but to look at him. His eyes are glazed. ‘Doing what?’

Oh, the arsehole. His impudence knows no bounds. I use my free hand to roughly brush the dampness away from my cheeks, suddenly horrified that I am, yet again, crying all over him.

‘You persistently pursued me, bombarded me with calls and texts, f**ked me into oblivion and threw a wobbly when I re-arranged our meeting. You stormed off four days ago, and I’ve not heard from you since!’ I pull my other hand from his grasp. ‘Now, you turn up, trampling all over my recovery night.’

He’s the one to look away now, he’s ashamed. ‘Watch your mouth.’ he murmurs.

Watch my mouth? After all that, he tells me to watch my mouth? He’s impossible!

‘Fuck off, Justin.’ I spit.

His head snaps up. ‘Mouth!’

I look at him in shock, and he scowls at me, his frown line deep on his forehead. I can’t cope with this. I’ve had four days to put my encounters with this man down to experience and rebound f**king. I was well on my way to forgetting him – kind of. Why is he here refreshing it all for me? I knew I should’ve stayed away. I could kick myself.

I stand up in front of him, leaving him crouching, but he reaches up and clasps behind my bare legs. The fear of his evocative touch is completely warranted. I’m immediately on guard. The heat emanating from his palms is spreading like wild fire through my blood stream, and there is no way to free myself from it. The toilet is behind me and he’s blocking the door.

‘Let me go, Justin.’ I grate, with all the firmness my quivering vocal cords will allow.

He looks up at me. ‘No.’

‘You seemed to manage just fine on Tuesday.’

He pushes himself up to his feet, sliding his palms up the backs of my legs as he does. It sparks a vicious bang between my legs. ‘I was mad.’ he says quietly as he looms over me.

‘You’re still mad. Did you know I would be here?’ I ask. He stares down at me, but he doesn’t answer. ‘You knew I would be here, didn’t you?’ I push.

‘Sam.’ he offers, completely unashamed.

‘Sam?’

His face is poker straight. ‘He rang Kate.’

‘She never said!’ I cry in despair. The devious cow! I can’t believe she’s done this to me. There will be some seriously strong words exchanged when I get my hands on her.

‘I’m going to kiss you now.’ It’s that tone, and I know I’m doomed. ‘You’re lucky, because if I had you anywhere else, you would be getting a reminder...right...about... now.’

I gasp as he takes the one step forward that’s needed to close the gap between us. With the toilet behind me, there’s no retreating space.

‘I like your dress,’ he murmurs, stroking my bare arm with his finger tip. ‘It’s too short, but I like it.’ He leans down, nuzzling my neck on a groan. My knees buckle. Damn him. And damn me too.

My eyes close without command, my head turning into his hot breath on my neck, my willpower scattered to the wind, just like that. It’s impossible. He’s impossible.

I feel him crouch slightly, his arm creeping under my backside, and with one effortless pull, he straightens his legs and lifts me from the floor. I’m secure against his chest and looking down into his eyes.

Game over. In a tiny toilet cubicle, I’ve absolutely no hope.

‘Do you have any idea what you do to me?’ His husky voice breaks as he looks up at me. ‘I’m a f**king mess.’

He’s a mess? That’s rich! He releases his grip on me slightly, causing me to slide down his body until our lips meet. He swings me around, pinning me up against the back of the door. I don’t have time to be concerned by our location; I’m too busy searching for the willpower to stop this. His tongue brushes across the seam of my closed lips, tempting them open, and I’m furious with myself for responding. But I should know by now…it’s unavoidable. I open to him like I always do, meeting his tongue with mine, clamping my hands in his hair.

Groaning deep and low in his throat, he locks his free hand around the base of my neck to hold me in place as he pushes his body further into mine. Our mouths are fused and our tongues colliding, rolling and stabbing together. This is a possessive, demanding kiss, and I’m back to square one. With just one kiss, I’ve surrendered. I’m weak and desperate.

He breaks away, leaving me panting and feeling the violent rise of his chest pressing against my breast bone. His forehead meets mine and my nostrils are instantly invaded with his minty breath.

‘There she is.’ he pants surely.

‘Yes, you got me again.’

He smiles slightly, circling his nose with mine. ‘I missed you, baby.’

‘Why did you go then?’

‘I’ve no idea.’ He plants a lingering kiss on my lips and lets me slide down his body.

I feel the undeniable hard ridge of an arousal as I slip past his groin. He’s being very reasonable, especially considering his current hard condition. I look up at him, finding a dark smile playing at the corners of his lips.

‘I should force you to sort this out.’ He places his hand over his crotch and my eyes widen in shock. Fuck, I probably would as well. He bashes down all of my defences and tramples my rational thinking. He has a frightening effect on me. ‘But I’m not having you on your knees in here. We’ll make friends properly later.’

I’m not sure if I’m disappointed or relieved. He opens the door, manoeuvring so I can leave. I walk out to be immediately confronted by two wide eyed women. They start talking about anything and everything, looking anywhere and everywhere, except at me. But then Justin makes an appearance and they can’t hide their blatant interest. They both stand with their lipsticks half way to their lips, gawking in the reflection of the mirror at the magnificent male who has emerged from the cubicle behind me.

I turn to Justin. ‘I need to sort my face out. I’ll see you out there.’

‘You face is perfect as it is.’ he reassures me softly.

I can’t help but smile. ‘I won’t be long.’

With no regard for the women still gawping at him, he walks over and kisses my forehead, looking at the dumbstruck women in the mirror. ‘Ladies,’ He nods, they swoon, and then he’s gone.

I shuffle over to the mirror to sort my face out, the silence painful as I re-apply face powder, eye liner and lipstick. In other words, I basically re-do my whole face; it’s a tear stained mess. I do all of this in an uncomfortable silence, as the two women shoot each other questioning glances every so often.

When I’m done, I wash my hands, smile sweetly and leave, hearing them coo and melt all over the ladies bathroom. I escape and find Justin waiting for me outside. He holds his hand out on a smile. Of course, I take it, letting him lead me to the bar. I scan the dance floor as he pushes his way through the crowd, making a clear path by holding his spare arm out. I see Kate, Tom and Victoria, all still busting their moves.

s: norm�6�

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