Red Collar (28 page)

*****

Vivaldi played softly in the background. Emma drummed her feet as she stood at her bench-top slicing her carrots into juliennes.

“You sure you’ll be fine?” said the young blonde woman slipping on a pair of red heels.

“I’ll be fine, Lauren,” she replied, glancing over at her. “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks.” Lauren gave one last appraisal of herself in the lounge room mirror. “You should come, you know. It’s Pete’s party after all. And you know him.”

“I know.”

“Learn to get out of this flat once in a while.”

Emma smiled. “I know.”

Lauren sighed. “Very well then.” She blew a kiss in the air. “Don’t stay up. I’ll be late.”

Emma walked her over to the door. “Have a nice time.”

“You can still come…”

Emma giggled and pushed her out of the door. “Bye, Lauren.”

Closing the door behind her, she looked around at the tiny flat. The walls were peachy in colour and beautiful ornaments and candles grazed the lamp stands, shelves and coffee tables.  A pair of lemony curtains was tied back and bordered the long French doors leading to the balcony.

It was seven in the evening and the lights of the city that sparkled into the flat, shown like stars. Her potted plants of geranium and begonia in her balcony were in full bloom and added to the romantic aura of the star studded night.

She sighed, realising that she was left all alone to embrace the serenity of her evening. She took a few steps forward to return to her cooking when a couple of desperate knocking interrupted her.

“Who is it?” she called out.

“Emma, it’s me,” replied Lauren.

Emma opened the door to an angst Lauren.

“Forgot my wallet,” Lauren screamed out as she rushed towards her bedroom. “Changed my bag, forgot the wallet.”

She ran back out, gave Emma a peck on her cheeks and raced out the door.

Emma shook her head in disbelief and closed the door. She was about to return to the kitchen when she saw Lauren’s keys on the hall table. Emma winced. It looked as if she would have to stay up then. Probably sleeping on the couch would be a better idea, she thought, her hands on her hips as she weighed out her options.

Another knock rapped at the door and she breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Lauren,” she started, opening the door. “Did you forget…”

There standing at the door was a six feet three young man. His short hair was neatly dressed and swept to the side. His glasses accentuated his blue eyes. He wore a stylish trench coat over his dark, striped suit.

Her jaw dropped open. No man had ever stood at her door looking like that.