Kim & The Hitman, Sandie Baldry [red novels txt] 📗

it was always interesting to see what colour her eyes would be. Paula wore those contact lenses that could change your eye colour. Sometimes her eyes were brown, possibly her natural colour, then again could be blue. And one day, she had one eye blue, the other a cat-like green. No one mentioned it to her, but we all thought she had muddled them up that morning. Her reddish hair she kept cropped short with a natural curl. A bit of a know-it-all reckoned she’d met Ed Sheeran. Apparently, a vegan. Hope she checked the ingredients of the doughnut. And I suspected she was gay; she showed no interest in the men we discussed. And we always sat near the window so we could watch the talent walk by. I caught her eyeing me from time to time. Smiling when I met her gaze. It wouldn’t matter, just would be nice to know one way or the other, then at least we could admire the girls for her.

They looked at me as I took my place next to Linda. Alex called over to Ron for a coffee. I shook my head, holding my phone for her to read a text. Lost my voice, lol, just diet coke, thanks.

The other two examined the message before eyeing me. Linda shunted up as if I were contagious.

‘You poor thing,’ she smiled, exchanging glances with the other two.

Have you seen a doctor? Not catching, is it? Fuck, I can’t afford to be off work,’ said Paula. Yeah, forgot to mention, Paula always swore a lot.

I texted a reply, thinking bloody cheek. It’s a strain, not a virus, and there was no need to use that language.

I sent it to Alex since she was holding her phone. In fact, didn’t think I’d ever seen her phone out of her hand. She read the message.

‘Strain?’ she said.

‘Talking too much?’ Linda suggested. Then answered her question. ‘Yeah, makes sense.’ Then, meeting my outraged gaze, added, ‘Suppose talking all day to your clients.’ A titter went around the table. Then, hardly drawing breath, she changed the subject. ‘Do you remember Ben? You know, the guy we used to go to college with. He’d give us a lift in his car on condition we show him our knickers; we used to call him the knickers man. A bit weird but cute as hell.’

I remembered and nodded but still sulking over her last remark.

‘That good-looking guy at the pool last week?’ said Alex. ‘Wasn’t he a Ben?’

‘Yeah, that’s him. Kim and I would squeeze into his…?’ she looked at me for an answer. I went to mouth, ‘Citron.’ But she’d already turned back to Alex. ‘Looked well fit, didn’t he? Must be at the gym most days and have muscles everywhere.’  There were giggles all around.

The pool? What pool, and where was I? I tapped the question out on my phone. But the conversation moved on, and they appeared to not be in the mood to read my text. Not to be ignored, I opened my mouth. Nothing but a wheeze emerged, and Linda shunted further away from me.

Linda continued, ‘He asked me for my number and then texted me afterwards, wanting to know if I was seeing anyone.’ Letting that hang, eager eyes waited for her to continue while I was still wondering why I wasn’t there. I knew Ben. The guy I remembered was as thick as two short planks.

‘And?’ encouraged Alex.

‘Said I was just out of a relationship.’

The conversation went on. I was invisible and losing interest in life, and I still hadn’t got my coke. It was strange listening to them and not being involved, surreal. Did I sound like that? With the sound of their voices becoming white noise, I stood to go to the ladies.

I’d been in this loo more times than I care to remember. So, imagine my surprise to see the urinals. Had they merged the ladies and gents, had society come to that? And the smell! A second later, I realised I’d got distracted and walked through the wrong door. But before I could correct my mistake, the outer door opened. Mortified, I hurried into the nearest cubicle and pushed the door too. Lifting my feet on the toilet, I was ready to give my best interpretation of a male grunt if they tried to enter, throat allowing.

A man with light footsteps walked in. I peered through the gap of the door, not quite closed, watching the figure. Becoming aware if I were caught, I would be considered a pervert. I caught my breath, praying he would get on with it and leave. My eyes flicked to the door. Would others walk in? I could be stuck there all day. A thumping in my chest vibrated in my ears, and I felt sick. I wondered what Alex would do. Probably walk out as brazen as anything, giving the guy a wink as she left. Could I do that? My hands were trembling.

The man stood by a sink, checking himself out in the mirror, running a finger over his eyebrow. If I left now before he started having a wee, it wouldn’t look so bad, would it? But I was frozen to the spot. I continued to watch the figure, praying he would get on with his business and leave.

He was a tall man, thin with a face that said, I’ve seen life, suffered pain, but I’m still here. Taking a mobile from his mac, he turned from the mirror and looked around, stooping to check the loos for shoes, ensuring he was alone. Satisfied, he rested back on a sink; his fingers hit the screen of his phone. My interest piqued.

I could make out a male voice answering but not hear what the person was saying.

‘Who the fuck do you think it is on this number calling you back? What is