ONE
EVANGELINE
“Please do this for me, I’ll be your slave for life, please, please, please.”
“All right,” I replied, looking down at the stricken form of my housemate, Clare, laid out on the sofa. “You’ve only got a cold, I feel I should point out.”
“It’s the worst cold in the history of the world,” she said, sneezing loudly as an exclamation mark to finish her sentence.
She nodded towards the coffee table and I sighed, picking up the parcel she was supposed to deliver. “You’ll be my slave for life?”
“Well, for a week at least. Remember it’s got to be there by six.”
The couriers Clare worked for were all right but they were pretty strict about time off. If she’d arranged to deliver something and then didn’t, the delay meant she lost a week’s pay. If I didn’t do this for her, she’d have worked all week for free for the sake of a single remaining parcel that had arrived late on our doorstep. She carried things the last few miles for the personal service some customers demanded.
I looked at the address on the front of the box. Dominic Hawke, Skyview Apartment, Riverside Building. Right in the middle of the city. “You’ll have to get them to buzz you in,” Clare said, noticing my look. “It’s one of those sealed in for rich snobs places, don’t like us riffraff just wandering in there with our working class values.”
“Since when were you working class?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. “Your father’s a lecturer and your mother is an interior designer.”
“I’m more working class than the people in Riverside. You should see them, all tuxedos and top hats, and that’s just the kids.”
I sighed. “Drink your hot lemon thing and get some rest while I go do your shift in the coalmine.”
“All right, don’t tease me when I’m not well enough to fight back.”
“Why not? I can’t get away with it the rest of the time.”
I headed towards the hallway to collect my bike. She was pretty sick and I wasn’t really up to much.
“Oh, by the way,” she called after me, “the guy you’re delivering to can be a bit prickly, just be aware.”
“What do you mean, prickly? Is he a cactus or something?”
“You know the type, all money, no manners. Thinks that because he’s hot, he can get away with being an arrogant twat.”
“He’s hot, is he?”
“Trust you to focus on that part. Yes, he’s hot. No, you haven’t got a chance. I doubt he sleeps with anyone with an income lower than six figures, or a waist above six inches.”
“Way to crush my dreams before they start.”
“You wouldn’t want him, Evangeline. Trust me. He’s rude as hell. I’ve yet to have a thank you from him when I’ve dropped anything off. Half the time, he just snatches it out of my hand without a word. Now, go on, get out of here. You’ve only got an hour.”
I didn’t feel too resentful about delivering her parcel even if her description of the recipient made me a little bit nervous. It was a nice enough evening and it gave me the perfect excuse for a bike ride. There was an off-road path that weaved along the old railway line right into the heart of the city and it would bring me out just a couple of minutes away from Riverside. I could hardly miss it anyway, a gleaming tower of glass that seemed to have sprung up almost overnight. I had no idea which one was Skyview Apartment but a place like that would no doubt have a doorman who’d tell me where I needed to go. If he’d let me inside of course. There was always the chance he’d take the parcel from me, save me the trouble.
I pushed my bike out of the front door whilst shouting bye and being rewarded with two loud sneezes in response. With the parcel in my basket, I set off, heading along the road towards the traffic lights at the end of our street. There was a light breeze which was just enough to keep the heat of the summer evening from being oppressive. The sun was starting to sink.
Another couple of weeks of summer and it would be back to university for my final year. I wasn’t even sure I was doing the right course anymore. Philosophy was an interesting enough subject but it wasn’t where my heart was. I wasn’t an academic by nature, I was a baker. I was already regretting not studying catering. I pushed the thought away. Why ruin such a nice evening with thoughts of the stresses to come. Better to enjoy it while it lasted.
It normally took half an hour to get into the city but this time I was less than ten minutes in before the bike started to slow down. Glancing at my wheel, I immediately saw why. The back tyre was going down. By the time I stopped and hopped off to have a look, it was completely flat. I went to take my rucksack off to dig out the puncture kit before realising I’d left my bag at home.
“Just great,” I said out loud before looking at the time on my phone. “That’s just perfect.”
I tried to decide whether to walk home and fix the puncture or walk on. I chose to walk. It didn’t really matter to me that I was walking. I was sure I’d still get there in plenty of time. Which shows how stupid I am.
The Riverside building loomed just ahead of me and it looked as if I’d reach it in just a couple of minutes. But it didn’t seem to get any closer as I walked and by the time five to six rolled around, I was still a couple of streets away. “Sorry, Clare,” I said out loud, breaking into a half jog, the bike rolling along with a wobble next to me as the tyre struggled to stay on the wheel.
I got to the front door of the building at five past six. There was a doorman but he was on the other side of the glass. I waved at him and held up the parcel. He nodded imperiously, swiping a keycard to let me inside. “Can I help you?” he asked, glancing from me to the bike.
“I’ve a parcel for Skyview Apartment. Can you tell me where I need to go?”
“Top floor, the penthouse,” he replied. “You may leave your bicycle with me if you wish.”
“As long as you don’t ride off on it,” I said, hoping for a smile. Fat chance.
Leaving him holding the bike, I climbed into the lift and punched the button for the top floor. The lift smelt of roses. Did they pump the smell in? Was this how the other half lived? Floral scent and a lift bigger than my kitchen?
When the doors slid open on the top floor, I stepped out into a square room filled with tall plants in terracotta pots. The carpet was so thick my feet didn’t make a sound as I walked towards the only door which was directly opposite the lift. I pressed the button next to the door and waited.
Nothing happened. I pressed the button again. Still nothing. I gave it thirty seconds before digging out my phone. Clare hadn’t told me what I was supposed to do if no one answered. The phone hadn’t even started ringing when the door opened and a man appeared, making me almost drop the phone to the floor at the sight of him.
I could see at once what Clare meant when she’d said he was hot. He wasn’t just hot, he was absolutely drop-dead gorgeous. He was in his mid thirties, wearing a very expensive bespoke black suit with white shirt and crimson red tie. His hair was jet black and neatly trimmed.
In fact everything about him was neat and tidy, even the hint of stubble on his chiselled jaw. He looked every inch the arrogant businessman, from his furious eyes to the way he impatiently tapped his foot as he looked at me as if he was expecting someone else. He scowled as I recoiled from his glare, unable to bear the anger radiating out from him.
“You’re late,” he snapped, before blinking in surprise as he looked at me properly for the first time. “Who are you?”