Richie stared at the sheet of paper in front of him. He’d been staring at it for the best part of an hour. It was still blank. He’d already written he music for it and couldn’t understand why the lyrics just weren’t flooding out. He usually found it so much easier to express his feelings through his music rather than verbally and he usually had no problem getting them firstly onto paper before enmeshing them with his music to create songs that expressed themselves with a deeper understanding into his psyche every time you heard them, but now? Zip, nada, nothing.
He wondered whether it had something to do with the fact that his divorce had just come through and he was, once again, a single man. He wondered whether his divorce had happened because he was unable express himself verbally. Shrugging he hummed the simple yet haunting melody to himself as his hand poised, wordlessly, over the pristine paper.
‘Coffee, that’ll help.’ he thought turning to look at the pot that sat on it’s own warming plate. It was empty. Erin hadn’t replaced it. He looked at the clock. She’d last been up with fresh coffee over two hours ago.
Frowning at having to interrupt his emotional thought process, he reached for the pot and made his way downstairs. He only used the elevator when he was carrying his tray of food. He’d found out the hard way that carrying a tray laden with food and coffee up two flights of stairs was synonymous with an accident waiting to happen.
He entered the kitchen to find it empty. He looked around wondering where she was. He knew she wasn’t in the lounge as he’s poked his head in on the way down.
He felt a slight warm breeze caress his skin and realised she was probably out in the garden. He made his way over to the fridge and walked down the corridor to the right of it. He passed by the utilities room and walked out the back door into the large garden. Being England the sun was shining but the temperature wasn’t scorchingly hot. He spotted Erin kneeling down by a clump of what he assumed to be weeds.
Erin turned as a shadow passed over her face to see a pair of feet. She look upwards to see Richie looking at her.
“Oh shit. Coffee. I’m so sorry I lost track of time. These weeds are all over the place and I guess I just lost in the job.”
Richie looked at her reddened eyes and thought she’d been doing a lot more than just weeding. He wondered why she’d been crying but didn’t want to push it. Instead he sat down cross legged on the grass and stretched.
“It’s ok, I’m completely stuck with work at the moment so I guess getting out in some fresh air ain’t exactly gonna kill me ya know?”
Erin smiled and went to put her trowel down.
“Oh, it’s ok, carry on with whatever it is you’re doing.” he asked, intrigued as to why someone would willingly put their hands in dirt just to pull up a few green things.
Erin turned back to the space she’d begun to clear of weeds. Gardening soothed her. It helped her forget her problems and soothed the savage beast that beat in her breast. Michael had always made sure she scrubbed her hands after gardening as he didn’t want people to think he was living with a scruffy person. He’d even bought her some top of the rang gardening gloves but she preferred to feel the earth directly.
Richie just sat and watched as she worked. He could see her nimble fingers working through the big clods of earth, breaking it up, enabling her to remove the weeds without leaving any of the roots behind.
Deftly she threw the weeds into a pile and lovingly tended to the flowers and shrubs.
Richie stretched out onto his side and smiled. He’d never met a woman before who loved getting covered in dirt. Every one he’d ever met, on a non fan basis, would run a mile before pulling a weed from a garden that wasn’t even hers.
Erin sat back on her haunches and sighed. She’d been out in the garden for over three hours and her back was beginning to ache, however the borders were looking so much better. She reached around for her bottle of water and took a long drink.
“Does that feel better?”
She jumped, having forgotten he was there, and water dribbled down her chin and soaked her tee shirt, which was already wringing with sweat.
“I’d forgotten you were there. I get so in the zone when I’m doing this, a nuclear bomb could go off and I wouldn’t notice.2 she said, wiping her forehead.
“Hmm, I bet you would.” he grinned. She had a smudge on her cheek and another on her forehead and her hair was in a messy ponytail which all combined to make her look adorable.
“Yeah, eventually I guess.” she laughed, “when the flowers all died from the radiation fallout.” She sat down onto the grass and stretched her legs out, feeling the sore muscles protesting.
“Have you been interested in gardening long?” he asked, not at all worried about getting back to his blank paper.
“Not really, I used to have a back garden and developed a love of it after I moved in and found a jungle. It took me six months to clear it all. Michael would just sit indoors and watch me. After I’d cleared it all I realised that I love gardening, but then, when we split I lost the garden.” She smiled but Richie noticed the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
They sat together in the garden companionably. As Erin got up to go make some coffee, Richie vowed he was going to find out what was making her cry. If he couldn’t compose he’d start prying instead. With that thought in mind, he smiled, closed his eyes and lay back on the grass, enjoying the sunshine.
Visitor Counter
There is a God and his name is Richie
Thursday, 29 January 2009
Wednesday, 28 January 2009
Chapter Six
Erin ladled chicken curry onto two plates and carried them over to the table, placing them next to an opened bottle of red wine.
She had been working for Richie for just under a week and had quickly settled into his routine. It had taken a couple of days to get used to it as he usually rose at midday, completely ravenous. The first day she rose as normal and was up and dressed by 8am. She’d gone down to kitchen and had started breakfast and coffee and had waited..and waited…and waited. Finally she’d had to throw the breakfast out and had sat in the lounge, watching daytime TV, waiting for Richie to wake up. He’d stumbled past the lounge at around midday and had looked at her as if to say, ‘why aren’t you cooking for me?’.
After he’d eaten he’d told her his daily routine and had asked her to be on hand for those hours. For someone who rose at 7am and was fast asleep by 10:30pm, having to switch to night time hours was hard and the first night she’d fallen asleep on the sofa. Richie had come downstairs for more coffee and had just covered her with a blanket. When it happened again the second night he woke her up and presented her with an empty coffee pot and a smile.
Erin had gotten into a routine of cooking lunch at around 1pm and dinner at around 9pm. Richie had agreed to this and generally made it down to the kitchen in time.
Erin placed his plate on a tray with a mug of coffee and sat down to eat her dinner. She looked up to see him walking in. His hair was all over the place and he was wearing an old pair of sweatpants with a ripped AC/DC tee shirt and was barefoot.
She smiled as he walked towards the table, fully expecting him to pick up his tray and take it upstairs via the hidden elevator she’d discovered on her second day.
It was situated to the left of the staircase and she’d only really discovered it when Richie had stepped out of it, scaring her half to death. He’d explained that the previous owner of the house had lived there for over 50 years with his wife and had it installed when she’d become wheelchair bound. It was only big enough for one wheelchair or two standing people and ran on the smoothest and quietest system she’d ever heard.
Erin turned back to her food and was quite surprised when, instead of taking the tray, he sat down opposite her and began to eat. She’d become quite used to eating alone but was glad of the company.
“This is lovely, did you make it yourself? Or is it out of a tin?” he asked
“Oh I made it myself. The sauce is shop bought though. I can cook basic foodstuffs but Indian cookery is not my forte.” she replied.
“I can burn water.” he replied, grinning as he shovelled the chicken and rice mixture into his mouth.
She laughed at the idea that someone was so useless a cook that ingredients would hide from him. She could imagine packets squealing and trying to hide behind tins when he opened the cupboards.
“Yeah, but then again I can’t play the guitar.” she said
“Good point, but isn’t everyone supposed to be able to at least make toast?” he asked.
“No, not really. I can only cook through trial and error. I used to try new dishes on my ex and watch his face as to whether it was any good. I gave up trying to create new things after I nearly killed him with an overload of curry powder!” she laughed.
The forkload of food halted in midair as he looked at her suspiciously.
“Don’t worry, it’s perfectly ok. I‘ll show you the bottle it came out of if you want.” she giggled.
Richie smiled and ate the forkful.
After he’d eaten his fill he sat back with a contented sigh.
“You know I get so involved with what I’m doing that I forget what the time is. I’ve had to set an alarm to remind me to come down for food. Oh I meant to see you to say thanks for the ever ready coffee and apologise for not really being around for your first week. You know writing an album is like making a baby. It takes a lot of effort cause you want everything to be perfect and then when it’s finally done or born, you can’t quite believe you had anything to do with it as it’s just so perfect, then come the sleepless nights as you worry about it, is it going to sell, will people like it, ya know? And I get so wrapped up in it that time slips away. So anyway, how has your first week been? I know there isn’t a lot of actual PA work to do at the moment but I promise you there will be.”
Erin was taken aback as it was the longest speech he’d given since she’d moved in. She had already come to the conclusion that she wouldn’t get to see much of him over the next six months and was bracing herself for a solitary existence.
“It’s been fine, I love the garden so I’ve spent some time out there. The flower borders are fantastic but needed weeding so I did a bit of that, I hope you don’t mind. The PA stuff takes me about an hour and a half which pretty much leaves me the rest of the day, except for dinner and making coffee every hour or so.”
“I will have some paperwork for you to deal with soon, and some letters to type up and send out. Stupidly I’d already agreed to going along to some charity events parties and I need you to arrange that for me.”
“Do you not like partying then?” she asked, surprised.
“Hell yes, when it’s the right kinda party but I’m not Jon, I can’t go along and make small talk to people who bore the fuckin tits off me ya know, all in the name of making contacts. Jon? He’s the fucking master at doing that. The only one I’ve really enjoyed is the Habitat for Humanity which we got involved in to help build new homes for the victims of Hurricane Katrina, but having to talk to some heavily made up Lady wotsit or Lord hoohaa? Christ it’s a cure for insomnia.”
Erin laughed, she liked this side of Richie, the honest, funny side. She’d almost forgotten what he’d been like when she’d first turned up.
“I know what you mean, my ex is a lawyer and every few months I’d have to get dressed up and go make meaningless small talk all to help him get noticed by the big bosses. You tend to develop a meaningless smile that you plaster on your face and I don’t know about you, but I’d end up with this massive ache across my mouth when I got home and sometimes it felt like the smile was frozen.”
“Oh yeah, when you’ve been photographed as many times as I have the aching face is nothing. Wait till you’ve had to hold a position for so long that your limbs have gone to sleep. That happened once and I went to walk and fell over, my foot was completely asleep. Jon nearly bust a gut laughing at me, bastard!” Richie laughed, completely relaxed.
It was weird, but he really felt he could talk to Erin. After the really bad first impressions he’d got he’d expected her to be a complete klutz but she wasn’t that bad. No coffee mishaps in over a week. Things were looking up. Plus she was easy on the eye, even if she did wear shapeless clothes that hid her figure.
He put his coffee mug down and smiled. "Oh well I'd best get back up there. I'll see you later. Thanks for dinner." he said as he got up and exited the kitchen.
She had been working for Richie for just under a week and had quickly settled into his routine. It had taken a couple of days to get used to it as he usually rose at midday, completely ravenous. The first day she rose as normal and was up and dressed by 8am. She’d gone down to kitchen and had started breakfast and coffee and had waited..and waited…and waited. Finally she’d had to throw the breakfast out and had sat in the lounge, watching daytime TV, waiting for Richie to wake up. He’d stumbled past the lounge at around midday and had looked at her as if to say, ‘why aren’t you cooking for me?’.
After he’d eaten he’d told her his daily routine and had asked her to be on hand for those hours. For someone who rose at 7am and was fast asleep by 10:30pm, having to switch to night time hours was hard and the first night she’d fallen asleep on the sofa. Richie had come downstairs for more coffee and had just covered her with a blanket. When it happened again the second night he woke her up and presented her with an empty coffee pot and a smile.
Erin had gotten into a routine of cooking lunch at around 1pm and dinner at around 9pm. Richie had agreed to this and generally made it down to the kitchen in time.
Erin placed his plate on a tray with a mug of coffee and sat down to eat her dinner. She looked up to see him walking in. His hair was all over the place and he was wearing an old pair of sweatpants with a ripped AC/DC tee shirt and was barefoot.
She smiled as he walked towards the table, fully expecting him to pick up his tray and take it upstairs via the hidden elevator she’d discovered on her second day.
It was situated to the left of the staircase and she’d only really discovered it when Richie had stepped out of it, scaring her half to death. He’d explained that the previous owner of the house had lived there for over 50 years with his wife and had it installed when she’d become wheelchair bound. It was only big enough for one wheelchair or two standing people and ran on the smoothest and quietest system she’d ever heard.
Erin turned back to her food and was quite surprised when, instead of taking the tray, he sat down opposite her and began to eat. She’d become quite used to eating alone but was glad of the company.
“This is lovely, did you make it yourself? Or is it out of a tin?” he asked
“Oh I made it myself. The sauce is shop bought though. I can cook basic foodstuffs but Indian cookery is not my forte.” she replied.
“I can burn water.” he replied, grinning as he shovelled the chicken and rice mixture into his mouth.
She laughed at the idea that someone was so useless a cook that ingredients would hide from him. She could imagine packets squealing and trying to hide behind tins when he opened the cupboards.
“Yeah, but then again I can’t play the guitar.” she said
“Good point, but isn’t everyone supposed to be able to at least make toast?” he asked.
“No, not really. I can only cook through trial and error. I used to try new dishes on my ex and watch his face as to whether it was any good. I gave up trying to create new things after I nearly killed him with an overload of curry powder!” she laughed.
The forkload of food halted in midair as he looked at her suspiciously.
“Don’t worry, it’s perfectly ok. I‘ll show you the bottle it came out of if you want.” she giggled.
Richie smiled and ate the forkful.
After he’d eaten his fill he sat back with a contented sigh.
“You know I get so involved with what I’m doing that I forget what the time is. I’ve had to set an alarm to remind me to come down for food. Oh I meant to see you to say thanks for the ever ready coffee and apologise for not really being around for your first week. You know writing an album is like making a baby. It takes a lot of effort cause you want everything to be perfect and then when it’s finally done or born, you can’t quite believe you had anything to do with it as it’s just so perfect, then come the sleepless nights as you worry about it, is it going to sell, will people like it, ya know? And I get so wrapped up in it that time slips away. So anyway, how has your first week been? I know there isn’t a lot of actual PA work to do at the moment but I promise you there will be.”
Erin was taken aback as it was the longest speech he’d given since she’d moved in. She had already come to the conclusion that she wouldn’t get to see much of him over the next six months and was bracing herself for a solitary existence.
“It’s been fine, I love the garden so I’ve spent some time out there. The flower borders are fantastic but needed weeding so I did a bit of that, I hope you don’t mind. The PA stuff takes me about an hour and a half which pretty much leaves me the rest of the day, except for dinner and making coffee every hour or so.”
“I will have some paperwork for you to deal with soon, and some letters to type up and send out. Stupidly I’d already agreed to going along to some charity events parties and I need you to arrange that for me.”
“Do you not like partying then?” she asked, surprised.
“Hell yes, when it’s the right kinda party but I’m not Jon, I can’t go along and make small talk to people who bore the fuckin tits off me ya know, all in the name of making contacts. Jon? He’s the fucking master at doing that. The only one I’ve really enjoyed is the Habitat for Humanity which we got involved in to help build new homes for the victims of Hurricane Katrina, but having to talk to some heavily made up Lady wotsit or Lord hoohaa? Christ it’s a cure for insomnia.”
Erin laughed, she liked this side of Richie, the honest, funny side. She’d almost forgotten what he’d been like when she’d first turned up.
“I know what you mean, my ex is a lawyer and every few months I’d have to get dressed up and go make meaningless small talk all to help him get noticed by the big bosses. You tend to develop a meaningless smile that you plaster on your face and I don’t know about you, but I’d end up with this massive ache across my mouth when I got home and sometimes it felt like the smile was frozen.”
“Oh yeah, when you’ve been photographed as many times as I have the aching face is nothing. Wait till you’ve had to hold a position for so long that your limbs have gone to sleep. That happened once and I went to walk and fell over, my foot was completely asleep. Jon nearly bust a gut laughing at me, bastard!” Richie laughed, completely relaxed.
It was weird, but he really felt he could talk to Erin. After the really bad first impressions he’d got he’d expected her to be a complete klutz but she wasn’t that bad. No coffee mishaps in over a week. Things were looking up. Plus she was easy on the eye, even if she did wear shapeless clothes that hid her figure.
He put his coffee mug down and smiled. "Oh well I'd best get back up there. I'll see you later. Thanks for dinner." he said as he got up and exited the kitchen.
Tuesday, 27 January 2009
Chapter Five
Erin placed two mugs of fresh hot coffee down on the battered, scarred, wooden table and sat down.
Richie took his coffee and put it out of her reach.
She smiled, wanly, “Would you believe I am not normally like this? In fact I’ve never been this much of a klutz in all my life.”
“Must be meeting me then.” he said, softly as he blew on the hot drink to cool it slightly.
She smiled, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of his full lips pursed, blowing cool air across his coffee. She shook her head to clear any impending naughty thoughts about her soon to be ex employer and turned to her own drink.
“Must be.” she said quietly before taking a sip of the heavenly brew. It was a hazelnut cinnamon blend and tasted absolutely divine on her tongue.
“Oh god that’s good.” she said, placing the mug down on the table.
“It’s my own blend.”
“You blend your own coffee?” she asked, intrigued.
“God no,” he laughed, a rich smoky laugh, ”No, I have someone back home make it up for me. I was thinking of marketing it but I’ve been told it’s an acquired taste.”
“My ex said the same about me.” Erin said without thinking, “Oh god sorry, forget I said that.” she uttered, as she looked at him.
Richie raised an eyebrow.
“I just meant that I have these quirks about me that he said not everyone would appreciate.. And…oh god, is this day never going to end?” with an embarrassed sigh she laid her head down on the table, narrowly missing her own mug of coffee, and groaned, “Someone just shoot me now”.
Richie looked at her for the longest time, feeling the ghost of a smile playing with his lips, his mouth twitched as he tried to keep it in but it was just too much. He tipped his head back and let out a huge belly laugh.
Erin just groaned further and covered her head with her hands, feeling the chignon start to come loose. She deftly pulled the pins out and ran her hands through her tired scalp, hoping her hair would completely cover her red face.
Richie could feel tears rolling down his face as he got, what is commonly referred to as ‘The Giggles‘, and once he’d started he found he couldn’t stop.
Erin lifted her head off the table and watched, bemused, as the handsome man across from her, with the gorgeous eyes but quick temper, was reduced to a child. She looked at him with such a look of puzzlement that it set him off again on a wave of hysterical laughter.
Finally, when he was able to calm down enough to speak, he looked at her and said simply “Welcome to the Mad House.”
“You’re keeping me on?”
“Hell yes darlin, I haven’t had that much fun in ages.” he grinned, wondering just what the hell he was in for letting her stay, “On one condition though. Don’t wear your hair up, let it loose. It suits you more.,” and looking at her bemused face, he got up, “And now if you will excuse me I really need to get back to some writing, or this day’ll just go to shit. The bedrooms and bathroom are on the third floor. Mine’s the untidy one. My study is on the second floor and the lounge is on the first floor. These houses may be old and exclusive but they are laid out in a really shit way.” he finished, walking out of the kitchen, leaving her sat there drinking coffee and wondering if she should order the straight jacket now, or wait a bit.
Richie took his coffee and put it out of her reach.
She smiled, wanly, “Would you believe I am not normally like this? In fact I’ve never been this much of a klutz in all my life.”
“Must be meeting me then.” he said, softly as he blew on the hot drink to cool it slightly.
She smiled, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of his full lips pursed, blowing cool air across his coffee. She shook her head to clear any impending naughty thoughts about her soon to be ex employer and turned to her own drink.
“Must be.” she said quietly before taking a sip of the heavenly brew. It was a hazelnut cinnamon blend and tasted absolutely divine on her tongue.
“Oh god that’s good.” she said, placing the mug down on the table.
“It’s my own blend.”
“You blend your own coffee?” she asked, intrigued.
“God no,” he laughed, a rich smoky laugh, ”No, I have someone back home make it up for me. I was thinking of marketing it but I’ve been told it’s an acquired taste.”
“My ex said the same about me.” Erin said without thinking, “Oh god sorry, forget I said that.” she uttered, as she looked at him.
Richie raised an eyebrow.
“I just meant that I have these quirks about me that he said not everyone would appreciate.. And…oh god, is this day never going to end?” with an embarrassed sigh she laid her head down on the table, narrowly missing her own mug of coffee, and groaned, “Someone just shoot me now”.
Richie looked at her for the longest time, feeling the ghost of a smile playing with his lips, his mouth twitched as he tried to keep it in but it was just too much. He tipped his head back and let out a huge belly laugh.
Erin just groaned further and covered her head with her hands, feeling the chignon start to come loose. She deftly pulled the pins out and ran her hands through her tired scalp, hoping her hair would completely cover her red face.
Richie could feel tears rolling down his face as he got, what is commonly referred to as ‘The Giggles‘, and once he’d started he found he couldn’t stop.
Erin lifted her head off the table and watched, bemused, as the handsome man across from her, with the gorgeous eyes but quick temper, was reduced to a child. She looked at him with such a look of puzzlement that it set him off again on a wave of hysterical laughter.
Finally, when he was able to calm down enough to speak, he looked at her and said simply “Welcome to the Mad House.”
“You’re keeping me on?”
“Hell yes darlin, I haven’t had that much fun in ages.” he grinned, wondering just what the hell he was in for letting her stay, “On one condition though. Don’t wear your hair up, let it loose. It suits you more.,” and looking at her bemused face, he got up, “And now if you will excuse me I really need to get back to some writing, or this day’ll just go to shit. The bedrooms and bathroom are on the third floor. Mine’s the untidy one. My study is on the second floor and the lounge is on the first floor. These houses may be old and exclusive but they are laid out in a really shit way.” he finished, walking out of the kitchen, leaving her sat there drinking coffee and wondering if she should order the straight jacket now, or wait a bit.
Chapter Four
Chapter Four
‘oh crap.’ Erin thought as she looked into the handsome but red cheeked face of the man she’d knocked over in the record store a few days previously. She looked at him as he struggled, unsuccessfully to get his annoyance under control.
“What the fuck? Did you follow me here? Not content with trying to smash my brains in or scald me with coffee, you’re now trying to choke me to death? What is it with you and coffee?” he ranted at her.
Erin took a step back, easier now she was wearing flatties, and smoothed her suit down. Putting a smile on her face, she bravely stuck out a hand.
“Mr Sambora, my name is Erin Matthews and I’ve been hired by, “ she wrestled a piece of paper from her pocket, “TBJ Management as a live in PA and, er, cook.”
Richie stopped his ranting and took a long hard look at the woman in front of him. Ignoring her outstretched hand he stalked past her and into the hallway.
Erin’s smile faltered as she watched him walk out. She had the feeling that this was going to be the shortest job she’d ever had. She could hear him shouting out in the hallway and, knowing that she’d have to go that way to leave, she walked towards it.
“…that fucking crazy woman I told you about! The one who tried to brain me after dousing me with hot coffee…..no I’m not!…..she just tried to choke me to death with another cup of coffee…..fuck it man!…..yeah? I don’t need food that bad!…..what the fuck do you mean there’s no one else willing to live in?, don’t they know it’s me? Oh pull your own head outta your own ass!! She’s a fucking moron, I’m telling you!” Richie caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Erin standing in the archway, totally stricken, her face flushed.
‘shit!’ he swore under his breath, “Yeah yeah I hear ya bro. yeah and fuck you too!” with a crash he hung up the phone and turned to Erin who was just staring at him.
For the longest time they just stared at each other. Richie took in the elegant chignon and the grey trouser suit and swore under his breath again.
Finally Erin’s nerve broke and she moved towards her suitcase.
“I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you. If you could just move a little,” she started as she managed to ram her suitcase into his bare foot,” I’ll be on my way.”
By now she was having trouble seeing as she was blinded by a film of tears. It was bad enough that Richie thought she was a complete moron and klutz, but what was worse was the feeling that she’d let herself down. How was she going to explain this to Gwen and Jamie?
She wrestled with the large, cumbersome case and as one of it’s wheels got caught up in a free-standing coat rack she just stopped dead in the middle of the hallway.
“Fuck it!” she cried out, feeling an errant tear slip down her face. First Michael, now this?
Bending down she tried to prise the wheel out of the wooden arch it was trapped in but to no avail.
“Oh fuck it.” She said, softly as she just stared at the case, “Not you too.” she muttered to the black material covered case.
Richie watched as she struggled, unsuccessfully, with her case. He could see she was getting more and more irate with it but his foot hurt, dammit, and he had no intention of helping her. Until he saw the tear fall down her soft face.
“Hey, hey, stop, stop, you’re going to either injure yourself or break my coat rack. So let’s go back into the kitchen and start again. I would offer you coffee but a) I have no idea how to work the damn machine and b) I’m kinda afraid you’ll use it to kill me or at the very least injure me in someway.” He smiled at her and held his hand out.
Erin looked up at him and huffed, momentarily, before allowing him to pull her to her feet. She followed him back into the kitchen and proceeded to make some fresh coffee.
‘oh crap.’ Erin thought as she looked into the handsome but red cheeked face of the man she’d knocked over in the record store a few days previously. She looked at him as he struggled, unsuccessfully to get his annoyance under control.
“What the fuck? Did you follow me here? Not content with trying to smash my brains in or scald me with coffee, you’re now trying to choke me to death? What is it with you and coffee?” he ranted at her.
Erin took a step back, easier now she was wearing flatties, and smoothed her suit down. Putting a smile on her face, she bravely stuck out a hand.
“Mr Sambora, my name is Erin Matthews and I’ve been hired by, “ she wrestled a piece of paper from her pocket, “TBJ Management as a live in PA and, er, cook.”
Richie stopped his ranting and took a long hard look at the woman in front of him. Ignoring her outstretched hand he stalked past her and into the hallway.
Erin’s smile faltered as she watched him walk out. She had the feeling that this was going to be the shortest job she’d ever had. She could hear him shouting out in the hallway and, knowing that she’d have to go that way to leave, she walked towards it.
“…that fucking crazy woman I told you about! The one who tried to brain me after dousing me with hot coffee…..no I’m not!…..she just tried to choke me to death with another cup of coffee…..fuck it man!…..yeah? I don’t need food that bad!…..what the fuck do you mean there’s no one else willing to live in?, don’t they know it’s me? Oh pull your own head outta your own ass!! She’s a fucking moron, I’m telling you!” Richie caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Erin standing in the archway, totally stricken, her face flushed.
‘shit!’ he swore under his breath, “Yeah yeah I hear ya bro. yeah and fuck you too!” with a crash he hung up the phone and turned to Erin who was just staring at him.
For the longest time they just stared at each other. Richie took in the elegant chignon and the grey trouser suit and swore under his breath again.
Finally Erin’s nerve broke and she moved towards her suitcase.
“I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you. If you could just move a little,” she started as she managed to ram her suitcase into his bare foot,” I’ll be on my way.”
By now she was having trouble seeing as she was blinded by a film of tears. It was bad enough that Richie thought she was a complete moron and klutz, but what was worse was the feeling that she’d let herself down. How was she going to explain this to Gwen and Jamie?
She wrestled with the large, cumbersome case and as one of it’s wheels got caught up in a free-standing coat rack she just stopped dead in the middle of the hallway.
“Fuck it!” she cried out, feeling an errant tear slip down her face. First Michael, now this?
Bending down she tried to prise the wheel out of the wooden arch it was trapped in but to no avail.
“Oh fuck it.” She said, softly as she just stared at the case, “Not you too.” she muttered to the black material covered case.
Richie watched as she struggled, unsuccessfully, with her case. He could see she was getting more and more irate with it but his foot hurt, dammit, and he had no intention of helping her. Until he saw the tear fall down her soft face.
“Hey, hey, stop, stop, you’re going to either injure yourself or break my coat rack. So let’s go back into the kitchen and start again. I would offer you coffee but a) I have no idea how to work the damn machine and b) I’m kinda afraid you’ll use it to kill me or at the very least injure me in someway.” He smiled at her and held his hand out.
Erin looked up at him and huffed, momentarily, before allowing him to pull her to her feet. She followed him back into the kitchen and proceeded to make some fresh coffee.
Chapter Three
Chapter Three
Richie scrunched his nose up as the smell of burning toast wafted through the kitchen.
‘God I could even burn water.’ he thought as he gingerly pulled the blackened bread from out of the toaster and dropped them in the bin.
His stomach rumbled and he wondered, for a moment, whether sending Anna back to the states had been such a good idea. Yes, she was brainless and would’ve been too much of a temptation but she could at least make him some toast without burning it. He shook his head. Nah, she was just too brainless, even for him, and by god he’d dated some of the most brainless yet beautiful women in the world. He sniggered. Who the hell needed brains with tits that size?
Sighing he picked up two fresh pieces of bread and put them in the toaster, carefully turning the level down in the hope that they wouldn’t burn.
“Ok Richie I’m outta here, I’ll see you in a few weeks.”
Jon walked into the kitchen and laughed at the sight of his usually finely groomed best friend wearing a cooks apron and looking completely frazzled.
“Oh man, you are totally useless in the kitchen aren’t ya?”
“Jon, make me some toast please? I’m starving and can’t get this fucking thing to work.” he whined plaintively as his stomach gave a huge rumble.
With a huge sigh Jon walked over to the toaster and checked the settings before getting out a frying pan and checking the fridge for eggs and bacon. It was worth it just for the look of pure undying gratitude on his friend’s face.
Within a few minutes Richie was sat at the large kitchen table, munching happily on expertly cooked eggs, bacon, beans and toast with a huge mug of fresh coffee by the plate.
“Richie, enjoy.” Jon said with a smile, “I gotta go. Have fun bro, email Dot with any queries as you know I’m fuckin useless on those things, or call me. No, no don’t get up, not that ya would anyway, I’ll let myself out, Paul’s outside to pick me up.”
Richie waved at him, his mouth full of crispy bacon and hot egg yolk and a happy smile on his face.
Jon just hoped that the PA the Agency were sending over knew how to cook or there was going to be a lot less of his best friend to go around.
Erin stood outside the imposing black front door, checked her reflection in a small mirror to make sure her hair was still in the chignon Gwen had done earlier that morning, and reached out to ring the doorbell just as the front door opened.
“Er hi, I’m Erin, I’m from the Agency.” she said, looking up at the thin but well built blonde man in front of her, motioning towards her suitcase. She turned back to him, wondering why he looked familiar in his tight jeans, black bomber jacket and sunglasses.
“Oh hi, I’m Jon and I’m leaving. The guy you want is in there. Have fun, and I sure hope you can cook.”
With that he swept past her and entered a black car parked on the kerbside.
Erin looked around for a few moments and then pulled her suitcase in to the hallway. There was a staircase in front of her and an archway to the right of it. She sniffed, she could smell fried breakfast and deciding that the kitchen was through the archway, she left her suitcase in the narrow, high ceilinged hallway and walked through the archway.
“Hello?” she called out as she walked through the archway into a corridor, “I’m Erin, from the Agency.”
She rounded a small corner and walked into a large but cosy kitchen, dominated by a huge kitchen table in the middle of it.
A familiar looking man sat at the table, his eyes closed in what looked like utter bliss as he ate the last bite of what appeared to be toast.
Erin stood in the doorway, uncertain as to what she should do. She’d called out but he obviously hadn’t heard her. She stood and looked around the kitchen, taking in the beautiful top of the range Aga and the huge American style fridge. The kitchen was painted a muted terracotta colour with Spanish accent tiles dotted in amongst the white splash back tiles.
Feeling completely out of place as the man at the table picked up his mug and drank deeply from it, his eyes still closed, she walked over to him, her footsteps muffled by a large rug, and tapped him on the shoulder.
Richie’s eyes flew open as he felt someone tap him. He choked on the mouthful of coffee he’d just taken and looked at the person standing in front of him, he backed away from the table as he suddenly couldn‘t breathe and wild eyed, motioned for her to help him.
“Oh shit.” Erin muttered as she slapped the man hard on the back to try and help him stop choking. She hoped it would work as she really didn’t want to try and do the Heimlich Manoeuvre on him as he looked really buff.
Richie breathed hard as air flowed back into his lungs. Jesus fucking H Christ! What the fuck? Dimly he remembered something Jon had told him about having a PA/cook come and live in with him to take care of him. He sank back into the seat and finally looked up,
“YOU!!”
Richie scrunched his nose up as the smell of burning toast wafted through the kitchen.
‘God I could even burn water.’ he thought as he gingerly pulled the blackened bread from out of the toaster and dropped them in the bin.
His stomach rumbled and he wondered, for a moment, whether sending Anna back to the states had been such a good idea. Yes, she was brainless and would’ve been too much of a temptation but she could at least make him some toast without burning it. He shook his head. Nah, she was just too brainless, even for him, and by god he’d dated some of the most brainless yet beautiful women in the world. He sniggered. Who the hell needed brains with tits that size?
Sighing he picked up two fresh pieces of bread and put them in the toaster, carefully turning the level down in the hope that they wouldn’t burn.
“Ok Richie I’m outta here, I’ll see you in a few weeks.”
Jon walked into the kitchen and laughed at the sight of his usually finely groomed best friend wearing a cooks apron and looking completely frazzled.
“Oh man, you are totally useless in the kitchen aren’t ya?”
“Jon, make me some toast please? I’m starving and can’t get this fucking thing to work.” he whined plaintively as his stomach gave a huge rumble.
With a huge sigh Jon walked over to the toaster and checked the settings before getting out a frying pan and checking the fridge for eggs and bacon. It was worth it just for the look of pure undying gratitude on his friend’s face.
Within a few minutes Richie was sat at the large kitchen table, munching happily on expertly cooked eggs, bacon, beans and toast with a huge mug of fresh coffee by the plate.
“Richie, enjoy.” Jon said with a smile, “I gotta go. Have fun bro, email Dot with any queries as you know I’m fuckin useless on those things, or call me. No, no don’t get up, not that ya would anyway, I’ll let myself out, Paul’s outside to pick me up.”
Richie waved at him, his mouth full of crispy bacon and hot egg yolk and a happy smile on his face.
Jon just hoped that the PA the Agency were sending over knew how to cook or there was going to be a lot less of his best friend to go around.
Erin stood outside the imposing black front door, checked her reflection in a small mirror to make sure her hair was still in the chignon Gwen had done earlier that morning, and reached out to ring the doorbell just as the front door opened.
“Er hi, I’m Erin, I’m from the Agency.” she said, looking up at the thin but well built blonde man in front of her, motioning towards her suitcase. She turned back to him, wondering why he looked familiar in his tight jeans, black bomber jacket and sunglasses.
“Oh hi, I’m Jon and I’m leaving. The guy you want is in there. Have fun, and I sure hope you can cook.”
With that he swept past her and entered a black car parked on the kerbside.
Erin looked around for a few moments and then pulled her suitcase in to the hallway. There was a staircase in front of her and an archway to the right of it. She sniffed, she could smell fried breakfast and deciding that the kitchen was through the archway, she left her suitcase in the narrow, high ceilinged hallway and walked through the archway.
“Hello?” she called out as she walked through the archway into a corridor, “I’m Erin, from the Agency.”
She rounded a small corner and walked into a large but cosy kitchen, dominated by a huge kitchen table in the middle of it.
A familiar looking man sat at the table, his eyes closed in what looked like utter bliss as he ate the last bite of what appeared to be toast.
Erin stood in the doorway, uncertain as to what she should do. She’d called out but he obviously hadn’t heard her. She stood and looked around the kitchen, taking in the beautiful top of the range Aga and the huge American style fridge. The kitchen was painted a muted terracotta colour with Spanish accent tiles dotted in amongst the white splash back tiles.
Feeling completely out of place as the man at the table picked up his mug and drank deeply from it, his eyes still closed, she walked over to him, her footsteps muffled by a large rug, and tapped him on the shoulder.
Richie’s eyes flew open as he felt someone tap him. He choked on the mouthful of coffee he’d just taken and looked at the person standing in front of him, he backed away from the table as he suddenly couldn‘t breathe and wild eyed, motioned for her to help him.
“Oh shit.” Erin muttered as she slapped the man hard on the back to try and help him stop choking. She hoped it would work as she really didn’t want to try and do the Heimlich Manoeuvre on him as he looked really buff.
Richie breathed hard as air flowed back into his lungs. Jesus fucking H Christ! What the fuck? Dimly he remembered something Jon had told him about having a PA/cook come and live in with him to take care of him. He sank back into the seat and finally looked up,
“YOU!!”
Monday, 26 January 2009
Chapter Two
Chapter Two
Gwen walked into her spacious lounge-diner and sighed with relief. She’d finished the housework and now could, legitimately, have a nice glass of red wine. So what if it was 3pm? She loved having Thursdays off, even if it did mean she worked on a Saturday. Being a shop manager of a well known manufacturer of china and porcelain ware meant that she was expected to be on call whenever she was needed and had, at times, worked 7 days a week.
She took a sip of the rather nice Chilean red she’d had breathing on the kitchen counter and sighed, contented.
The phone rang and she let the answer machine kick in, not wanting to move.
She heard the front door open and called out.
“Erin? Is that you?”
“Who else would it be? Jamie’s not due back till 7pm and it’s hardly likely that a burglar would have the front door keys is it? You daft moo.” Erin retorted, smiling.
“I was just asking.” replied Gwen in her soft Welsh lilt.
Gwen looked up as Erin walked into the lounge, limping.
“What the hell happened to you girl?” she asked concerned, placing her glass of wine onto the coffee table.
“My shoe broke, just as I was looking for that album you wanted. What a shit day I’ve had. Any of that wine left?” Erin asked as she dumped her handbag on the dining room table.
“yeah sure, it’s on the side. Help yourself.”
Erin poured herself a glass and joined Gwen on the terracotta sofa.
She removed her shoes and plonked her feet up onto the coffee table.
“So your shoe broke? Did you get to any agencies before that?” Gwen asked.
“Trying to get rid of me already?” Erin grinned.
“No, of course not. You’re welcome to stay as long as. I just know what it’s like not to have any money coming in.”
“I know, I was just kidding,” Erin sipped her wine, “yes I did manage to get to two agencies and sign on with them before the bloody shoe broke. I went down a grate, can you believe that? Oh and then the icing on the bloody cake, when the heel broke, I went arse over tit backwards, in the shop, right into this bloke who was standing behind me.”
Gwen spluttered her wine over her tee shirt with laughter.
“So you fell for him in a big way then?” she cackled.
“It gets worse. Not only did I fall onto him but I also knocked him flat onto his arse with me landing on top of him, so there we were lying on the floor, me with my arse on show, I bet the CCTV operators were killing themselves laughing at this point, and him with a huge coffee stain over the front of his tee shirt. It was so embarrassing, even if he was the cutest guy I’ve ever seen in my life. Those eyes. Amazing.”
Gwen was holding her sides with laughter.
“Oh Erin, only you could manage to do something like that. Anyway I thought you’d sworn off guys for a while? After Michael?”
“I have but he was just so damn cute, with these huge chocolate brown eyes. Anyway he asked me to get off him.”
“He did what?” Gwen laughed.
“Well we just stared at each other for a while and I think I forgot to get off him so he had to ask.” Erin said, sheepishly.
“You are one dozy mare, you know that?” Gwen giggled, holding her glass out for a refill.
Erin got up to go get the wine and noticed the answer machine flashing.
“Oh yeah, it rang and I was just so cozy like, I couldn’t be bothered to move.” Gwen admitted.
Erin shook her head and pressed the play button.
“Hello, this is a message for Erin Matthews. This is The Adele Agency. A position has come up we feel you would be suited to. Please call Caroline to discuss this. Thank you.”
Erin flashed a look at Gwen who was beaming at her, partly due to the amount of red wine in her system.
“Hi, this is Erin Matthews, can I talk to Caroline please?
“This is Caroline, Hello Miss Matthews, thank you for calling back. This position came in just after you had left and I think you will be perfect for it. It is a temporary position for six months. The job itself is that of PA but there are a couple of conditions.”
“What conditions?” Erin asked, crossing her fingers that they wouldn’t put her off.
“The first condition is that it is in house work.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sorry, I mean it’s live in work. The client is an American musician who is over here to write and produce his album and needs a live in PA as he will be working from home.”
“Ok, so far so good. What’s the second?”
“Apparently he can’t cook and needs someone who can. That’s why I thought of you as I remembered you saying that you love to cook.”
“On the weekends yes but not everyday.” She muttered.
“Oh and the salary is £30,000.”
“So £15,000 for the six months?” it didn’t sound too bad.
“No Miss Matthews, £30,000 for the six months, £60,000 pro rata.”
“Wow! I’ll do it, when does he need me to move in?” She asked, her bank balance sitting up and begging for this money, “Sorry did I sound too desperate there?” Erin laughed.
“That’s ok Miss Matthews,“ Caroline laughed, “I’ll just double check on the start date then email you the details as to where you’ll need to go.”
“Thank you, thank you so much.”
“You are very welcome.”
“Bye.” Erin put the phone down and turned to look at Gwen.
“Whoo Hoo I got a job!!! “ she began to a shuffle around the lounge to some imaginary music.
“Oh did you manage to get my album?” asked Gwen, by this time quite sloshed.
“No. Sorry.” Erin danced her way round the coffee table.
“Oh pity,” Gwen sighed, “I had the space picked out ready for it, just next to ‘Undiscovered Soul’.”
“Is that another Bon Jovi album then?” Erin asked, her mind off shopping for shoes.
“No, it’s the guitarist from the band, Richie Sambora. Here have a look.”
Erin forced her mind off shoes and looked at the album Gwen was holding out. She looked at the picture on the cover.
“Oh my fuck, that’s him!”
“I know it’s him” Gwen said, puzzled.
“No you moo, him! The guy I fell on today.”
“No way!” Gwen slurred slightly.
“Shit! I tripped up Richie Sambora. Well fuck me.” Erin intoned, grabbing her wine and taking a huge gulp.
Gwen walked into her spacious lounge-diner and sighed with relief. She’d finished the housework and now could, legitimately, have a nice glass of red wine. So what if it was 3pm? She loved having Thursdays off, even if it did mean she worked on a Saturday. Being a shop manager of a well known manufacturer of china and porcelain ware meant that she was expected to be on call whenever she was needed and had, at times, worked 7 days a week.
She took a sip of the rather nice Chilean red she’d had breathing on the kitchen counter and sighed, contented.
The phone rang and she let the answer machine kick in, not wanting to move.
She heard the front door open and called out.
“Erin? Is that you?”
“Who else would it be? Jamie’s not due back till 7pm and it’s hardly likely that a burglar would have the front door keys is it? You daft moo.” Erin retorted, smiling.
“I was just asking.” replied Gwen in her soft Welsh lilt.
Gwen looked up as Erin walked into the lounge, limping.
“What the hell happened to you girl?” she asked concerned, placing her glass of wine onto the coffee table.
“My shoe broke, just as I was looking for that album you wanted. What a shit day I’ve had. Any of that wine left?” Erin asked as she dumped her handbag on the dining room table.
“yeah sure, it’s on the side. Help yourself.”
Erin poured herself a glass and joined Gwen on the terracotta sofa.
She removed her shoes and plonked her feet up onto the coffee table.
“So your shoe broke? Did you get to any agencies before that?” Gwen asked.
“Trying to get rid of me already?” Erin grinned.
“No, of course not. You’re welcome to stay as long as. I just know what it’s like not to have any money coming in.”
“I know, I was just kidding,” Erin sipped her wine, “yes I did manage to get to two agencies and sign on with them before the bloody shoe broke. I went down a grate, can you believe that? Oh and then the icing on the bloody cake, when the heel broke, I went arse over tit backwards, in the shop, right into this bloke who was standing behind me.”
Gwen spluttered her wine over her tee shirt with laughter.
“So you fell for him in a big way then?” she cackled.
“It gets worse. Not only did I fall onto him but I also knocked him flat onto his arse with me landing on top of him, so there we were lying on the floor, me with my arse on show, I bet the CCTV operators were killing themselves laughing at this point, and him with a huge coffee stain over the front of his tee shirt. It was so embarrassing, even if he was the cutest guy I’ve ever seen in my life. Those eyes. Amazing.”
Gwen was holding her sides with laughter.
“Oh Erin, only you could manage to do something like that. Anyway I thought you’d sworn off guys for a while? After Michael?”
“I have but he was just so damn cute, with these huge chocolate brown eyes. Anyway he asked me to get off him.”
“He did what?” Gwen laughed.
“Well we just stared at each other for a while and I think I forgot to get off him so he had to ask.” Erin said, sheepishly.
“You are one dozy mare, you know that?” Gwen giggled, holding her glass out for a refill.
Erin got up to go get the wine and noticed the answer machine flashing.
“Oh yeah, it rang and I was just so cozy like, I couldn’t be bothered to move.” Gwen admitted.
Erin shook her head and pressed the play button.
“Hello, this is a message for Erin Matthews. This is The Adele Agency. A position has come up we feel you would be suited to. Please call Caroline to discuss this. Thank you.”
Erin flashed a look at Gwen who was beaming at her, partly due to the amount of red wine in her system.
“Hi, this is Erin Matthews, can I talk to Caroline please?
“This is Caroline, Hello Miss Matthews, thank you for calling back. This position came in just after you had left and I think you will be perfect for it. It is a temporary position for six months. The job itself is that of PA but there are a couple of conditions.”
“What conditions?” Erin asked, crossing her fingers that they wouldn’t put her off.
“The first condition is that it is in house work.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sorry, I mean it’s live in work. The client is an American musician who is over here to write and produce his album and needs a live in PA as he will be working from home.”
“Ok, so far so good. What’s the second?”
“Apparently he can’t cook and needs someone who can. That’s why I thought of you as I remembered you saying that you love to cook.”
“On the weekends yes but not everyday.” She muttered.
“Oh and the salary is £30,000.”
“So £15,000 for the six months?” it didn’t sound too bad.
“No Miss Matthews, £30,000 for the six months, £60,000 pro rata.”
“Wow! I’ll do it, when does he need me to move in?” She asked, her bank balance sitting up and begging for this money, “Sorry did I sound too desperate there?” Erin laughed.
“That’s ok Miss Matthews,“ Caroline laughed, “I’ll just double check on the start date then email you the details as to where you’ll need to go.”
“Thank you, thank you so much.”
“You are very welcome.”
“Bye.” Erin put the phone down and turned to look at Gwen.
“Whoo Hoo I got a job!!! “ she began to a shuffle around the lounge to some imaginary music.
“Oh did you manage to get my album?” asked Gwen, by this time quite sloshed.
“No. Sorry.” Erin danced her way round the coffee table.
“Oh pity,” Gwen sighed, “I had the space picked out ready for it, just next to ‘Undiscovered Soul’.”
“Is that another Bon Jovi album then?” Erin asked, her mind off shopping for shoes.
“No, it’s the guitarist from the band, Richie Sambora. Here have a look.”
Erin forced her mind off shoes and looked at the album Gwen was holding out. She looked at the picture on the cover.
“Oh my fuck, that’s him!”
“I know it’s him” Gwen said, puzzled.
“No you moo, him! The guy I fell on today.”
“No way!” Gwen slurred slightly.
“Shit! I tripped up Richie Sambora. Well fuck me.” Erin intoned, grabbing her wine and taking a huge gulp.
Chapter One
“Dammit” Erin muttered as she stepped onto a drainage grate and her heel went through. She stretched her hand out to lean against a nearby parked car and lifted her foot up to inspect any damage.
She lifted her shoe off and balanced on one leg, loathe to put her stocking clad foot down onto the dirty pavement. She looked at the heel and sighed in relief. It wasn’t broken, just scraped.
She put her shoe back on and, avoiding the grate, stepped out to try and cross Regent Street. The sky was a miserable light grey with just a hint of blue behind it, like a badly designed dress.
Erin’s stomach gave a rumble and she smiled, ruefully, thinking she needed to grab a sandwich and soon. She made her way across Regent Street, only having to run a couple of times to get out of the way of insane Black Cab drivers who seemed hell bent on running down as many pedestrians as they could; like they were keeping a tally or something.
She checked her watch. 1:30pm. My god, no wonder she was hungry, she hadn’t eaten anything since 8am that morning.
She stopped outside of the Virgin Megastore on the corner of Piccadilly and Regent Street to catch her breath. That last cab driver really had been insanely gunning for her.
She smiled at the irony of lighting a cigarette whilst trying to catch your breath and took a long drag, blowing the smoke out with joy.
She had just spent the last two hours doing some excruciating typing and data entry tests for one temp agency and one and a half hours for another one before that. She was currently what the papers liked to call ‘unemployed’ but she liked to think of as ‘totally fucked money wise’. She smiled as she thought of what her best friend had said that morning. Gwen had handed her £10 to pay for her train ticket up to London with the express condition that she get a job or Gwen would sell Erin on Ebay.
Erin was currently staying with Gwen and her husband Jamie as she had nowhere else to stay. She had split up from her ex two days previously and Gwen had taken her in.
Erin stubbed out her cigarette and push her long light brown hair out of her face. She knew she couldn’t afford it but the new Bon Jovi album had just been released and Gwen was eager to hear the new country type sound they’d come up with. Erin had been a bit of a fan back in the early nineties but had lost interest over the years due to moving in with her ex and setting up a home. Gwen was also looking forward to the band coming over on tour for the new album and was determined to drag Erin along. The Lost Highway Tour. Erin had seen posters advertising an imminent tour on the internet but they weren’t due over for at least a year, which gave her enough time to find a job, a place to live and save up some money beforehand.
She entered the large music store and began to browse. As she walked slowly round the rock/pop section she began to feel quite unsteady on her heels.
‘Oh god, if that heel is broken, I’m in the shit’ she thought as she looked down at her one and only pair of Manolo Blahniks. She’d had them for years , having gotten them in a half price sale at Liberty’s and they were her lucky shoes. In fact they were her only pair of heels and the way her money was slowly leaking from her bank account she’d be lucky to be able to afford a pair from Primark. She stood, leaning hard on the heel that felt loose, trying to somehow jam it back into place when she heard an ominous crack and felt herself falling backwards. She staggered on the broken heel and placed her good heel straight down on someone’s foot.
“Fuck!” a male voice muttered behind her.
Erin twisted to see whos foot she’d trodden on when the heel broke off completely tipping her backwards. She stumbled into a hard, firm body but the momentum of her fall caused the both of them to fall backwards.
Erin looked down at the man she’d landed on. ‘Damn, he’s cute’ her libido registered before her brain took back control.
“Oh my god, I’m so, so sorry, my heel broke and I fell.” she said, feeling quite embarrassed as she was lying on a complete stranger, albeit a cute one with the most gorgeous eyes, on the floor in the middle of the Virgin Megastore, surrounded by shoppers, all of whom seemed to have mobile phone camera’s pointed at them.
She looked at his tee shirt and noticed a dark spreading stain, then registered the fact that her hand was wet atop it. She brought her hand up and sniffed at it. It smelt of coffee.
“My coffee. My hot coffee.” he said, staring at the woman who was currently sat on his chest. Her hair had tumbled in a disarray around her face and looked quite sexy. He liked her blue eyes and stared right into them for a few moments before he began to realise they were lying on the floor and people were taking photos of them.
“Erm,” he began, “Could you get off me?” he looked at her with a questioning look on his face; as if her getting up off him was a hard thing for her to comprehend. Maybe she did this sort of thing all day long but he as hell didn’t.
“Oh god yes, sorry, yes,” she replied, scrambling to her feet, trying desperately to pull her skirt back into a presentable position.
She held her hand out to help him up but someone else had already beaten her to it. Brushing himself down, swearing at the coffee stain and muttering about crazy females, he walked off away from her, led by a much bigger man.
Forlornly she looked at her shoe and saw that the heel had broken off completely. She sighed and looking back at the quite gorgeous man she’d literally swept off his feet she watched him walk away.
She put her shoe back on and limped slowly out of the megastore, the album quite forgotten.
It was a very sore footed Erin than walked into her best friends house later on that afternoon
She lifted her shoe off and balanced on one leg, loathe to put her stocking clad foot down onto the dirty pavement. She looked at the heel and sighed in relief. It wasn’t broken, just scraped.
She put her shoe back on and, avoiding the grate, stepped out to try and cross Regent Street. The sky was a miserable light grey with just a hint of blue behind it, like a badly designed dress.
Erin’s stomach gave a rumble and she smiled, ruefully, thinking she needed to grab a sandwich and soon. She made her way across Regent Street, only having to run a couple of times to get out of the way of insane Black Cab drivers who seemed hell bent on running down as many pedestrians as they could; like they were keeping a tally or something.
She checked her watch. 1:30pm. My god, no wonder she was hungry, she hadn’t eaten anything since 8am that morning.
She stopped outside of the Virgin Megastore on the corner of Piccadilly and Regent Street to catch her breath. That last cab driver really had been insanely gunning for her.
She smiled at the irony of lighting a cigarette whilst trying to catch your breath and took a long drag, blowing the smoke out with joy.
She had just spent the last two hours doing some excruciating typing and data entry tests for one temp agency and one and a half hours for another one before that. She was currently what the papers liked to call ‘unemployed’ but she liked to think of as ‘totally fucked money wise’. She smiled as she thought of what her best friend had said that morning. Gwen had handed her £10 to pay for her train ticket up to London with the express condition that she get a job or Gwen would sell Erin on Ebay.
Erin was currently staying with Gwen and her husband Jamie as she had nowhere else to stay. She had split up from her ex two days previously and Gwen had taken her in.
Erin stubbed out her cigarette and push her long light brown hair out of her face. She knew she couldn’t afford it but the new Bon Jovi album had just been released and Gwen was eager to hear the new country type sound they’d come up with. Erin had been a bit of a fan back in the early nineties but had lost interest over the years due to moving in with her ex and setting up a home. Gwen was also looking forward to the band coming over on tour for the new album and was determined to drag Erin along. The Lost Highway Tour. Erin had seen posters advertising an imminent tour on the internet but they weren’t due over for at least a year, which gave her enough time to find a job, a place to live and save up some money beforehand.
She entered the large music store and began to browse. As she walked slowly round the rock/pop section she began to feel quite unsteady on her heels.
‘Oh god, if that heel is broken, I’m in the shit’ she thought as she looked down at her one and only pair of Manolo Blahniks. She’d had them for years , having gotten them in a half price sale at Liberty’s and they were her lucky shoes. In fact they were her only pair of heels and the way her money was slowly leaking from her bank account she’d be lucky to be able to afford a pair from Primark. She stood, leaning hard on the heel that felt loose, trying to somehow jam it back into place when she heard an ominous crack and felt herself falling backwards. She staggered on the broken heel and placed her good heel straight down on someone’s foot.
“Fuck!” a male voice muttered behind her.
Erin twisted to see whos foot she’d trodden on when the heel broke off completely tipping her backwards. She stumbled into a hard, firm body but the momentum of her fall caused the both of them to fall backwards.
Erin looked down at the man she’d landed on. ‘Damn, he’s cute’ her libido registered before her brain took back control.
“Oh my god, I’m so, so sorry, my heel broke and I fell.” she said, feeling quite embarrassed as she was lying on a complete stranger, albeit a cute one with the most gorgeous eyes, on the floor in the middle of the Virgin Megastore, surrounded by shoppers, all of whom seemed to have mobile phone camera’s pointed at them.
She looked at his tee shirt and noticed a dark spreading stain, then registered the fact that her hand was wet atop it. She brought her hand up and sniffed at it. It smelt of coffee.
“My coffee. My hot coffee.” he said, staring at the woman who was currently sat on his chest. Her hair had tumbled in a disarray around her face and looked quite sexy. He liked her blue eyes and stared right into them for a few moments before he began to realise they were lying on the floor and people were taking photos of them.
“Erm,” he began, “Could you get off me?” he looked at her with a questioning look on his face; as if her getting up off him was a hard thing for her to comprehend. Maybe she did this sort of thing all day long but he as hell didn’t.
“Oh god yes, sorry, yes,” she replied, scrambling to her feet, trying desperately to pull her skirt back into a presentable position.
She held her hand out to help him up but someone else had already beaten her to it. Brushing himself down, swearing at the coffee stain and muttering about crazy females, he walked off away from her, led by a much bigger man.
Forlornly she looked at her shoe and saw that the heel had broken off completely. She sighed and looking back at the quite gorgeous man she’d literally swept off his feet she watched him walk away.
She put her shoe back on and limped slowly out of the megastore, the album quite forgotten.
It was a very sore footed Erin than walked into her best friends house later on that afternoon
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