Fighting Heart: Fighting Heart Erotic Bad Boy Romance Series Book 1 (2 page)

The lectures I was due to attend that morning had already started, and because of Dean Jonathan’s lateness I would be behind already. I was fuming, but mostly I was scared and frustrated. How could the Dean try to get in the way of this girl’s dream? Surely people like him were supposed to be there to help me. I badly needed to speak to Penny, my friend of all of two minutes at the university, as I just knew she would have a positive spin on this. Penny was in the lecture I should have been in, listening to the hottest Lecturer in the prospectus, Simon Ridgley, talking on the American Novel. If that man had given me a private lecture it could have been on any topic, from baking soda to household bacteria and I still would have melted at his word. But right now, I wanted my friend’s ear and a shoulder to cuss on.

I walked around the quadrangle of concrete where all the students liked to smoke, and then vaulted up the old stairs towards the Lecture Hall. The double doors of the Upper Lecture Hall had circular windows cut into them. I hesitated, wondering if hauling a friend out of lecture was the best thing to do under the circumstances. As I looked in through the window, my blonde hair fell in front of my eyes and I swept it out of the way. I peered through the glass and saw banks of young faces, bearded guys, girls with funky hair and some genuine oddballs either with their face front, or yawning or head down toward their notes. I scanned for Penny.
Where the hell are you, Penny?
I said to myself. I scanned the rows, and then I eventually saw her. She was playing with her long auburn hair, her head tilted. Maybe she was lost in literary reverie, but I think it was more likely she was fantasising about what she wanted to do with our English Lecturer. I waved, but she didn’t see me. That was some fantasy. Other people were looking at the door. I caught some eyes. The teacher’s pet squad were giving me disapproving looks, but there were only a few of those. And there were some guys. One or five of them looked interesting. One guy had that wavy brown hair thing going on, with his hair parted and swept back to the side. He had a face which reminded me of a lion, all proud and purposeful. His eyes met mine through the glass and they stayed on me. My anger and fear melted as a warm feeling gathered around my stomach. Whoa. This guy looked good. I let him take all the looking he wanted, but I still had other stuff on my mind. Like my impending exit from university, my missing out on any chance of that bright future, and the possibility of affairs with the coolest and most interesting guys I had ever known. There was another male set of eyes on me from the back of the hall. This guy was a carrot top, a red-head. He had a nice square jawline and from where I was standing he could have had nice eyes too. He looked nice enough, but he was way beneath the lion king in the hot stakes. Penny was still not biting in spite of all the guys and girls around the theatre either looking at me with disapproval or trying to ignore me. Oh no! I took a breath and sighed. Here I was about to make a name for myself all over again. I pushed the door and half the faces in the Lecture Hall looked down at me. My nerves started jangling again as if I was about to make my big speech. Wow, the crowd looked intimidating. I walked awkwardly into the big cool room, and Professor Ridgley looked at me as I entered his field of view. He stopped talking and planted one hand into his jeans pocket. He looked like a middle aged model from some guys’ fashion magazine. I looked at him and tried hard to not blush.

“Yes? Can we help you?”

“Um. I really need to speak with Penny Foster. Penny?”

“Is this urgent? Because it’s really not good form to interrupt lectures like this. Hang on, aren’t you supposed to be in this one. You were here last week, am I right?”

Damn. The Spanish Inquisition in front of a hundred and fifty prying eyes, potential friends and enemies throughout the whole time of my degree here Oh well, at least they’d know who I was now.

“Yeah, I had to go to a meeting with the Dean. I’m sorry but I’ll be back next week.”

The Lecturer nodded and looked at Penny. She was already looking sheepish and flustered and gathering her things.

“If you’re leaving please be quick. We’ve got plenty to get through here.”

Penny made an awkward smile and skipped down the steps from the back holding far too much stuff. When we got outside the door she didn’t look too pleased for at least a second, but then she must have seen something unexpected in my eyes. I let her tune in before I started speaking.

“Newsflash: The Dean looks hot, but he’s definitely not.”

“What happened, Ashley? You didn’t drag me out here just for that…”

“No. I thought I could find a way to fix this financial thing as I went along, Penny, but maybe I was kidding myself. The Dean has given me an ultimatum. I have to pay three thousand by the fifteenth of November, or I am out of here. Gone. You know, I really think I should send a thank you note to my beloved brother.”

“Come on. You did know all of this before last week, Ash.”

I winced. “I did know but now it’s real. I thought they would see how committed I was and make some kind of arrangement with me that I could afford. I even thought my incredible hotness would wow the Dean into submission, and that he would say I could pay once I was a millionaire.”

“You’ve got a great imagination there Ashley.”

“Clearly. I thought I had a chance at this. But already I’ve got no money, an impossible deadline, and I think I’ve managed to alienate the Dean and offend the best looking Lecturer in the Department. Today is not a good day, Penny.”

“Chin up, Ash. You’ll think of something.”

I looked at Penny and wished she didn’t have to be so glib. But to be honest, that’s why I pulled her out of the lecture. I needed her simple optimism to lift my gloom. The truth was I’d been willfully naïve in coming to college without the cash to pay for it. But I had been in denial. I wasn’t in denial any more. But I was angry as hell, shocked at how quickly my predicament had unfolded, and I was blaming Regan more than ever. I’d ruined my college dream for him and he’d barely even said thank you.

“What can I do, Pen?”

“Well, you start looking for a job. Or you could quit college and come back next year. That’s an option. Or you could go out and work that bod of yours on the street. You’ll be surprised how much income you can generate that way.”

I checked her face. Thankfully she was joking, but it gave me an idea.

“I have to do this, Pen. I simply can’t let that bastard steal my dream. You’re right, if I have to I’ll use my feminine wiles.”

“Erm, Ashley... You don’t really want to earn money that way.”

“I didn’t mean on the street, Penny! Jeez! I mean I am going to find a job with enough pay to meet that deadline.”

“But what about your English Programme? You’d have to work all the hours under the sun to meet that deadline.”

I thought about Ridgley and the guy with the lion face and the eyes which cut me so deep. There was no way I was missing out on any of that. The slogan from a sports commercial popped into my head.

“Penny, Impossible is nothing. Not in my world anyway.”

I was always good at talking. But now I had to practice what I preached.

I had a coffee with Penny in the canteen then took off before the lecture finished. I didn’t want a hundred goofy questions from people asking me why I didn’t make it in, or looks of disapproval from the serious folks who did that kind of thing. More than that I didn’t want to look stupid in front of those few male faces who stuck out from the crowd. Particularly the one with the longish brown hair and the regally lion-like face. He was definitely worth not looking like a fool for. I wondered how old he was. He didn’t look too fresh faced like some of these first-years. He looked confident and cool. There was a chance he was my age and I hoped he was at least in the same ballpark. But I was getting way beyond myself here. In order to even have a chance with that guy, I needed a chance at university. To do that, I needed some spondolicks as quickly as I could. I called home and rolled my first dice.

“Hi, Mum. Is Regan home?”

“How are you, sweetie? It’s great to hear from you. Did your first week go well?”

“Very well. But it’s just this whole money thing. It’s a problem and it’s getting serious now.”

“Oh...” My mother fell silent. I felt a strange mix of anger at my mother’s brick-walling mixed with pity towards her too. My mum had never enjoyed a lot of money, or much luck in life, and there was no way my mother could help me now.

“I just need to speak with Regan. I’ll catch up with you when I’ve got this all sorted, okay? Don’t start worrying, promise?”

“Worrying is a mother’s job.”

If worrying was my mum’s job I wished it paid a lot better. “See you, mum. Love you.”

Eventually Regan picked up the phone. His voice sounded rough, and almost incomprehensible. I blinked at the clock on my phone. It figured. Regan had just woken up.

“What?” said Regan.

“It’s so nice to speak to you too, bro. Long time no hear.”

“Yeah, yeah. You enjoying yourself? Not playing with too many of those dirty boys up there, are you? You might catch something.”

“Yuck. You’re gross. That’s my business, Regan, but for your information, I am staying clean and wholesome, just like I always did.”

“Yeah, right.”

“So, how’s the drug-dealing business going?”

“What you talking about? You can’t be saying stuff like that on the phone! You’re nuts girl!”

“Sorry, sorry. I forgot MI5 are listening in. Okay. What I meant to say is this. You know when I emptied my bank account to save you from having your legs smashed into chalk dust?” she let that hang, but Regan didn’t bite.

“What about it?”

“Do you remember saying that you’d pay me back?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, the college have given me an ultimatum. I need to pay them all of that money in three stages, and the first payment is in due in ten weeks.”

“Ten weeks. How much?”

“Three grand. Then another three grand three months after that, and another three grand three months after that.”

“You’re joking with me, right?”

“Regan, no, I am absolutely not joking with you. I am passing on news of my financial needs to someone who owes me a lot of money and has promised to pay me back. Are you telling me you can’t even pay me back just three thousand in ten weeks? Just how long were you intending for me to wait for the money?”

“I don’t know, but not that quick! What am I, Superman?”

“Exactly right. That’s who you are. Why don’t you go and have a shower, put your cape on and go and get a job like every other superhero in the world. Then who knows, maybe you could pay me the money you owe me and stop acting like a thirteen year old. You are twenty-one years old for Chrissake! Take some responsibility for yourself!”

“You’re winding me up now.”

“I
loaned
you that money, Regan. Did you ever intend to repay any of it?”

There was a pause at the other end of the line.

“’Course I did.”

“When?”

A longer pause.

“That’s what I figured. Thanks, Regan. Thanks for single-handedly ruining my life just so you could stay at home and smoke some more pot.”

“You’re
cold
sis. Cold.”

“That’s right. This is me being cold, just like when I saved your legs.”

I hung up the call, gritted my teeth and vented the only way I could in public - by growling at the plastic bus shelter in the middle of the busy South London street. Regan was a bastard. Just another one in a long line of bastards who was never going to stop me getting what I wanted out of life. I looked around and saw a reflection of my vexed face in the bus shelter window. I needed to get my act together if I was going job hunting. I parted my long blonde bob, and smoothed out the angry lines in my face. Anger wasn’t going to help me - not right now anyway, but maybe later. It was time to look for a job.

After pacing three hours around Lewisham and New Cross, cradling a thin stack of job application forms, I was full of a kind of weary satisfaction, because I had tried. At least I had tried. But another part of my mind, wasn’t happy with that at all. Trying was not even half way there. I needed a result, and I needed one fast. Preferably one that paid a ton per hour.  On the way back towards college and my shared flat, I walked past some less salubrious establishments on the other side of the busy road near the New Cross train station.  There were bars here, some big, some small and some 24 hour shops. I poked my head into the doors, and guessed these were too quiet to need anybody, or that they would pay in chick-peas or something. I needed cash. I looked at one of the bars I had never even noticed before – a tiny shop front space with black windows and a garish pink sign. There was a sign offering cash in hand work in the window. A bad hand-written sign. The more I looked at this little joint the more I was certain it wasn’t the one for me. This place probably wasn’t for anyone unless they were coerced to work there. Next. The last one I even vaguely felt like trying was the kind of joint you might see on the edge of town in a foreign holiday place, yet here it was in grey smoky London. It belonged in somewhere like Turkey or Spain. The kind of place that doesn’t get much business but is always trying hard to draw them in with big chalkboards of special offers and posters for this weekend’s entertainment. I had planned my next stop as a well-earned drink at the Union bar. I had texted Penny to book in with her, and she was keen for an update on my mission impossible. One last job-hunting effort would make a neat bookend to the tale of my day.

I walked into Yemek’s. There was a whole lot of space around, with a low ceiling and big heavy wooden tables. At this time of day – late afternoon- the place was kind of dreary because the windows were tinted dark blue.  But it was a very strange and interesting place to be. The emptiness had me on edge a little, I have to admit. There was stone everywhere. Or what looked like stone. On the walls and the floors. Maybe it was treated plaster made to look like stone but either way, it looked historic, in a cheesy nightclub kind of way. There were big baggy plants situated at regular points throughout the restaurant, keeping up the holiday vibe. And to complete the look, there was even a laminated photograph of every dish on the menu on a wall beside the bar. Wow. I wanted to take pictures and at the same time I vaguely wanted to be sick, but man did I need a job.

“Yes please, can I help you?”

I jumped a half foot in the air, and when I came down saw a Mediterranean looking guy who was pretty well put together. He wasn’t too bulky like boys get when they hit their thirties or whatever. He was in that slim but athletic phase, like only those boys from the med can pull off, and he didn’t mind showing off his tone by wearing slinky clothes – a white T with an unknown foreign brand on it, and a pair of skinny jeans. My guess, is he was twenty five or twenty-six. He had dark eyes and thick dark hair which had been buzzed at the back and sides. He looked pretty good, but something in his dark eyes was unsettling.

These days all the guys had a beard. This guy was no different. His short beard went all the way back up the sides of his head. He reminded me of a Liverpool footballer, but I couldn’t remember the name.

“You want to book a table?”

“Oh, no, no thank you.”

The boy nodded and smiled, then he gently clapped his hands.

“Then why a pretty girl like you comes in here? Are you a student? I know, I bet you want a drink? What would you like?”

I smiled back at him. He was friendly enough, maybe a bit full of himself. I was remembering those few brief holiday romances, the near misses, and the ones I was glad never actually happened. This guy was reminding me of a few of those.

“I’m fine, really. You’re right. I am a student. I am just looking for a job to supplement my income, and I wondered if you had any vacancies...”

The boy stopped for a minute, processing what I had. Then he looked at me and he grinned. “You want to work here? At Yemek’s?”

“If there’s a vacancy, yes, maybe…”

“Hey. That’s fantastic. You take a seat over there. I will bring you a coffee and we can talk.”

“Great. So is there a vacancy?”

“Sit, please. Sit. Then we talk.”

He made a friendly gesture that I should pick a seat near the bar. This was feeling a little weird already, but hey, when at Yemek’s… I picked a chair with a view of the outside world just to remind me that I hadn’t slipped into another dimension.

The guy emerged from the kitchen after two minutes of me feeling awkward. He was carrying a tray with a silver kind of teapot and a couple of small little glass cups. He gave me the full beam smile all the way and laid the tray down in front of me like it was the best thing I would ever see. I made a good fist of smiling back.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Turkish coffee.”

“So good, you can chew it,” he smiled. Then I remembered the one time I’d tried Turkish coffee. Chewy coffee dregs never made it to the top of my list of regional delicacies. He poured a small cup for me and himself and I drank a sip of the vile concoction, and nodded without grimacing.

“You like?”

I nodded.

“Okay. You want work. What can you do?”

I went back to the same patter I had used all morning. “I’m versatile. The main thing is that I am personable, and hard working. I learn quickly and I fit in really well with teams. I always give 100 per cent. I have experience in retail, and retail management, and I’m good with customers. I can give you my CV, if you’re interested.”

He nodded and looked at me over his coffee. He was thinking. There was a glint in his eyes. His look soon became a solid stare. I don’t like staring and I don’t like silences either.

“What do you think?” I said.

“I think I’d like you to work here with me. I would be your boss. You would serve tables. You would clean the tables. You take the orders to and from the kitchen.”

“Like a waitress.”

“Yes, a waitress,” he repeated.

“How much would you pay?”

“For you? Maybe eight pounds an hour.”

“Really?” That was very good compared to some of the lines I’d heard across town. I tried to hide my surprise. Now I wasn’t so sure this job was a definite No.

“And you keep tips.”

“That’s good. It all adds up.”

“What are the hours and when are the shifts?”

“Tuesday to Sunday, 12 midday until midnight. You do lunches and dinners, with a break in the middle.”

I thought about the hours and my college commitment. That wasn’t going to work, but I needed the money. Maybe I could play work and college off for a little while to keep it going…

“We do a work trial, yes. See if it suits you. Try it for an hour.”

“A work trial?”

The guy stuck his thumb between his smiling teeth and leaned forward over the tray of coffee. He looked straight at me. I didn’t know what that meant, but it didn’t feel good.

“You’re pretty.” His eyes dropped to my chest. My flowery top wasn’t cut very low, but it was kind of suggestive. You could see the beginning of my curves, and this guy was staring at them. I sat back and drew my jacket around me.

“I tell you what. Kiss me and you have the job. No work trial. We’ll have fun working together. I promise.”

I stood up and the chair creaked on the floor behind me, which scared the crap out of me again. The guy stood too and suddenly I realised how tall he was compared to me. Skinny, but tall. 

“Just one kiss. I am handsome, yes?”

He moved around the table and I snatched up my application forms.

“Stop. I’m leaving. I don’t want a job here, not now, not ever. Okay.”

He moved again, so what I did next I did without even engaging my brain. I grabbed the little cup of putrid coffee and tossed the contents at him. Hot black water and coffee gunge landed on his stomach and the crotch of his jeans. It looked like someone had catapulted a wad of mud at him.

“Stay away from me!”

The guy groaned and tilted his head down to look at himself. I used that second to back away toward the door. I backed out into the traffic noise and the rush of the wind, grateful that I didn’t like Turkish coffee at all and grateful I was due to meet Penny any moment. But the clock was ticking and I still needed a job. A decent job, one without lechers and idiots which paid at least the minimum wage. I just wasn’t sure such a thing existed in South East London. Man, did I need a drink.