Chapter 15 #2
She and him went way back. They’d met on Tinder and had hooked up quite a few times through the years.
He was a teacher and only did tech repairs as a side hustle, but he was skilled and reliable and had saved Eris’ phone more than once for pocket money.
Eris couldn’t deny she’d willingly taken advantage of his weakness for her and wasn’t proud of it, but a broke girl had to get by.
Besides, sex with him had always been good, even though he had a tendency to get clingy after a while.
Eris had always made sure to take her distance when that happened.
As hot and fun as he was, she wasn’t interested in him that way and would rather lose him than play with his feelings.
Will Tech
Still works or stays black?
Still works
Will Tech
You can replace the screen but it’s not cheap
Do you have all the parts?
Will Tech
Yup
Wanna swing by?
Same address as usual?
Will Tech
You sure you still remember?
Fuck off
Will Tech
Doorbell still not working, text when you arrive
Eris could always count on him, no matter how long they hadn’t seen or spoken to each other.
There had been a time when she had considered settling down with him.
He would have been a doting, lovable partner, her life with him would’ve been comfortable and safe.
Her respect and genuine affection for Will had always refrained her from taking advantage of him that way, despite the temptation.
As soon as Rocco returned, Eris ran upstairs to grab her jacket and her crossbody phone strap, returning only to promise Denny she’d be back before dinner.
“Where are you going?”
“Popping into town.”
“What for?”
“You’ll see.” Eris didn’t want to jinx it, in case it ended up in a fiasco, and it was a surprise, anyway. “Need anything?”
“Not that I can think of.”
“It’ll come to you when I’m already back.”
“As per,” Denny sighed. Eris gave her a forgiving kiss.
“Laters.”
* * *
Walking around with a few hundred quid stuck in her boot without her knife was unsettling. She didn’t feel safe, probably—and ironically—because she was walking in the shoes of her victims.
Lacking a weapon still didn’t make her an easy prey: her natural hypervigilance was an asset, albeit laden with side effects. The noise and the turmoil of London seemed worse than ever now that she was leaving the house only when strictly necessary. The headphones helped, even without music.
Passing by Marks now, looking at them, she only felt a bad taste in her mouth.
“Pass. I only smoke when I’m depressed.”
“Good streak?” asked Will while lighting himself a cigarette.
Eris shrugged, replying with the understatement of the year: “Can’t complain.”
“Wanna stay for dinner and tell me about it?”
Will’s deep, familiar voice floated around her, warm and inviting.
Eris wondered how she hadn’t fallen for such a walking green flag over the years.
Logic said there were plenty of reasons she should’ve fallen in love with him.
The irrationality of emotions said that all the good reasons in the world weren’t enough to make two people click.
It was a hard concept to grasp for an analytical mind like hers, but she trusted the process. She knew the difference now between someone good and The One.
“My girlfriend’s waiting for me at home,” she conveyed, perhaps a bit too self-complacently.
Will’s dramatic gasp couldn’t fully hide his disappointment. “You’re breaking my heart, doll.”
“The screen is for her phone, actually.”
He chucked the half smoked cigarette into a nearby ashtray and cast Eris a serious glance. “She good to you?”
Defining Denny as good would’ve been like defining outer space as deep.
It wasn’t measurable: it went on and on, way beyond what the human mind could conceive.
Just a fraction of that good would’ve been enough for Eris, but Denny was an all-or-nothing kind of person: if she gave you a crumb, she ended up giving you everything.
“More than I deserve.”
“Got a picture?”
The speed at which Eris whipped her phone out was embarrassing.
All she had to do was tap the screen to reveal the background: her and Denny’s faces pressed together side by side with identical huge smiles, the blurred colours of the shop behind them.
Eris had never liked having her picture taken, but Denny was a selfie enthusiast and wanted to immortalise everything.
It had been looking at their photos together that Eris had first realised how profoundly Denny had rubbed off on her: that smile—that big, radiant smile—wasn’t intrinsic to her own nature.
She had learned it, observing Denny, spending time with her, bathing in her sunlight.
The collection of photos in her phone showed a detailed chronology of the evolution: it had started out faltering and unsure and day by day, with steady practice, it had grown jaunty and spontaneous.
In the most recent portraits, Eris was almost smiling like a native smiler.
“A Disney princess?” Will chortled.
“I’m as baffled as you are.”
“Good for you, Keane. Good for you.” Will offered her a fist bump, which she amiably accepted. He reached for a small cardboard box next to the ashtray and handed it to Eris. “Here.” Inside was a brand new screen, a bundle of minuscule tools, and a QR code. “Still remember how to do it?”
“You taught me well.”
“The QR leads to a tutorial for that model, just in case.” Will winked. “Go save your princess.”
“How much?”
“A hundred.”
“Don’t lowball me.”
He flapped his hand dismissively. “Just bring back the tools when you’re done.”
It was underpriced, Eris had looked it up: the screen alone cost nearly two-hundred quid. But she couldn’t deny that the discount came in convenient for her limited funds.
Will cackled when she bent down to retrieve the cash from her boot. “Still carry a knife in there?”
“Don’t ask.” She slapped the two fifties into his palm with a glower that was quickly replaced by gratitude. He went for a handshake, but she surprised him by pulling him into a hug. “I’ll bring you flowers from Denny’s shop.”
It took a moment for Will to hug her back and, even when he did, it was tentative and light. “I’ll hold you to it.”
When he let go and opened the door for her, Eris was buzzing. She couldn’t wait to see Denny’s face when she found her phone with a shiny new screen.
Walking back to the bus stop, she clutched the small parcel like a treasure, having just blown a considerable chunk of her bank account balance for it.
The bus was hot but thankfully not too crammed.
She climbed upstairs and found herself a seat by the front window—her favourite, not because of the view, but because it made her less claustrophobic.
After tucking the small box into her jacket, she propped her feet up against the wall and finally relaxed.
Staring ahead as the road and the lights sped by, she wondered who the smiley stranger in the glass was. Smug, happy bitch.
Everything would’ve been perfect if she’d found a job, but Denny was right: she wouldn’t have lasted a day in a customer-facing spot.
Or anywhere near too many people. Maybe she should resort to factories, or construction.
She was strong enough to be a brickie. Or a welder. It wasn’t too late to learn.
When the bus turned into Baker Street, she rang for the stop and jogged downstairs. She would be home just in time to hide the parcel and start dinner.
Her ringtone went off as she stepped out.
Denny.
She swiped up, but before she could get the phone to her ear a waft of perfume that made her stomach churn stopped her dead in her tracks. She recognised at once the sickeningly sweet fragrance that had made Denny smell so wrong.
She looked around with a searing simmer in her veins and found heavy-lidded eyes sizing her up from head to toe a few feet ahead.
Blake was nothing like Eris had imagined her. She was feminine and graceful, but in a completely different way to Denny.
Denny had the vibrant grace of a hummingbird.
Blake had the vicious grace of a snake.
“We finally meet,” drawled a voice that sounded like how the perfume that accompanied it smelled.
Blake sauntered towards Eris with the regal bearing of a Hollywood star on a red carpet.
The stiletto boots made her tall enough that Eris had to tip her head back to look her in the eye, and she hated how small it was making her feel.
She was standing too close. Eris wanted to step back and regain some personal space, but she wasn’t going to give Blake that kind of satisfaction.
“You know who I am, don’t you?”
“A cunt fishing for trouble.”