Only Yours

Nothing freaks me out more than walking into a crowded place and drawing attention to myself. The only other option is to actually pay for the copy of the newspaper I’m dying to read. Not because I have an interest in current news affairs. Nor do I care about whose screwing who but because of the job classified section.

“Can I have a look at that?” I ask a guy who’s just finished ogling pics of babes in bikinis on the back page.

His eyes sweep over me. “Yeah.”

I grab the folded, well-worn edition of the paper and walk away before he says anything else.

RESEARCH ASSISTANT TO COMMENCE IMMEDIATELY. NO EXPERIENCE NECESSARY. APPLICANTS MUST CURRENTLY BE STUDYING TOWARDS A DEGREE IN MARKETING MANAGEMENT. PLEASE EMAIL YOUR APPLICATION WITH TRACEABLE REFERENCES TO [email protected]

My heart races. A job I actually qualify for?

Desperate times call for flexible measures. College tuition fees are overdue. My current contract with “Coastal Temp Placements” ended today, and my fridge, save for a piece of week-old cheese, serves little purpose. I’m already at an internet café and there’s a vacant booth.

The internet connection is slow and my resume takes forever to upload.

“Miss, your time’s up.” A youngster—he can’t be more than thirteen—glares at me. Half an hour at Harry’s Internet Café cost me five bucks, and I’m not leaving here without creating a little hope. Something that will keep my mind off the impending doom if I fail to find a job before the end of the week.

“Give me a second.” My fingers fly over the battered, greasy keyboard. “I’m nearly done.”

“Hurry up,” the kid whines. “I’ve already paid for a full hour and you’re eating up my time.”

“Sorry.” The poor kid probably saved up for weeks for a chance to spend a full hour surfing the net. I hit send. “Thank you.”

“Whatever,” he mumbles and pushes past me.

It’s barely six p.m. and as dark as midnight. Winter’s settled on the KwaZulu Natal North Coast mid-season. I pull my beanie low over my forehead and tuck loose strands of hair beneath the beanie. The gentle sound of the ocean soothes away my financial worries and restores some calm to my thoughts. Ballito’s pretty safe—I’ve always wanted to live here even though I barely make it to pay rent. The east coast of South Africa is incredibly laid-back and postcard scenic.

I head for the community center my study group uses twice a week. It’s near the clinic, about ten minutes from the beach. Walking doesn’t bother me. It helps me maintain a healthy body weight.

“Hey, Riley.” Justin, my best friend and confidante, greets me with a smile that reaches his crystal clear, aqua eyes. He hugs me before I sit.

“Hey. Did I miss anything?”

He adjusts his gold emblazoned silk scarf. “Nope. We’re still discussing Liam David.”

“Liam David?” I’m totally blank. “Who is he?”

“Riley?” Justin places his palm on my forehead. “You okay, girlfriend?”

“Yeah.” I take his cold hands off. Really, who is Liam David? The rest of the group is fascinated with this mysterious man I’ve never even heard off.

“You seriously have absolutely no idea who Liam David is?” Justin rolls his eyes.

It’s pointless lying when Justin can see right through me. He’s my closest friend. “Nope.”

He turns his tablet my way and shows me a picture of a tall, muscular cricketer practicing in the nets. He’s as regular as other celebrities—standard bronze complexion, broad shoulders, six pack, even teeth and self-assured smile. “That’s Liam David. Twenty-seven, at the top of his game, billionaire, and now businessman. He’s my dream boyfriend.”

“What’s so special about him?” I fail to see what the fascination with a mere, shirtless man is all about. And if Justin’s judging Liam’s success by his age then I still have a good five years to go.

“Nooo.” Justin gasps and fans himself. “Liam’s only the best fast bowler in the world. Are you for real, Riley? He took the winning wickets in last week’s cricket match.”

“Ohhh.”

Justin leans across the scratched wooden desk we share. “Not only is he hot and talented, he also took over his dad’s business. He’s advertised a few posts.” He glances at London and Gem—Barbie-like socialites who study part time because their drug habits got them kicked out of every university and college in South Africa. Justin’s mouth tightens in disgust. “They’re hoping to get called for an interview just so they can meet him.”

“Liam must be pretty special if London and Gem are willing to sacrifice sitting on their asses, checking their makeup, and counting calories twenty-four seven for a chance to see him.”

Justin stares at Liam’s image. “I don’t blame them. He’s a God.”

“Hmm.” I could use a God right now. Especially one who will help me pay my college tuition fees on time.

“I can’t believe the actual Liam David will be living right here, walking amongst us ordinary people.” Justin sighs dreamily “I might apply for that job just to meet him.”

“Good luck.” I open my textbook. Liam David isn’t going to pass Research Methodology for me.

Justin rolls his eyes at me. “You can actually study after looking at a pic of Liam David. Are you, like, normal, Riley Hart?”

“Half my year mark,” I remind him, “Liam David isn’t worth that much to me.”

“Or you could be scared of meeting him. What if he ends up liking you or something?” He winked.

An involuntary shudder steals over my body before I can stop it. Justin doesn’t notice. Yeah, I answer silently, I'm afraid of attracting attention to myself. Somehow Justin melted away the invisible boundaries I’d build around myself since I moved here. My pen slips out of my fingers.

Justin’s cold hand over mine pulls me into the present. “Sorry, didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“You didn’t.” He just reminded me of something that hadn’t crossed my mind in months. “Question five is a killer,” I quickly cover up before Justin suspects I’m hiding something.

“Defining a population sample? You’ve got to be kidding me.” Justin shrugs. “Unless you’ve been bitten by the Liam bug as well.” He pats my shoulder. “It’s normal. Happens to the best of us. No need to hide it from me if you are.”

Yeah right. Liam David might as well be a fictional character for me. I’ve never had time to watch sport or follow sportsmen and women on social media.

“Hmm.”

Liam David will have to be pretty damn miraculous to have me behaving like a celeb-obsessed schoolgirl.

“Don’t think so hard. You won’t lose your flat and you will pay your fees on time. The Universe always has a plan.”

“I hope.” If I don’t make payment on time I won’t be allowed to write my exams. I’ve vowed to make something off my life. Some jobs require having an education. I can’t afford to slip up now.

“You will.” He leans closer. “God’s moved into town. Only good things can happen now.”

My research methodology assignment’s done. Two days have passed since my contract ended and I haven’t found another job. I hope God helps me before I’m totally screwed. I might as well hit the streets and cold call a few restaurants. Waitressing isn’t my dream job, but it will help pay the rent and put food on the table. I’m on my way out when my cell phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Miss Hart? Henrietta Simmons from D Enterprises here. Will you be available for an interview at about half past ten today?”

Holy smoke. An interview! I’m so relieved tears sting my eyes and I choke on emotion. I don’t care that I’ve only got a few hours’ notice. Heck, I have an interview and it’s given me some hope. That’s all that matters.

“Miss Hart? I must apologize for giving you such short notice…we had a problem with our phone lines…”

“It’s okay. I’ll be there.”

“Do you need directions to our office?”

D Enterprises moved to a new complex overlooking the Indian Ocean a month ago. They’ve embraced eco-friendly building designs. Nobody misses their offices with huge glass windows that allows for maximum natural light. It’ll take me about fifteen minutes to walk there. “I know where the offices are.”

I have an hour to get dressed. Not that I have much of choice when it comes to clothes. My usual white shirt and black pencil skirt will have to do. I’ve started from scratch since leaving a state funded children’s home a year and a half ago. The fourteen-hour bus journey between St. Mary’s and Ballito is my saving grace. Nobody knows me here, and the anonymity’s given me chance to live life without being judged on the past. The memory of St. Mary’s orphanage is enough to fuel me with hope for the interview. Thank God that part of my life is over.

I blink furiously and force the memories of St. Mary’s to the back of my mind. No. My body trembles. That part of my life is over. I’ve come too far to fall back into the hollow of depression that almost destroyed me. My mood lightens when I remind myself of the interview. I pull my long, brown hair into a low ponytail and check my reflection in the mirror my landlord, Mrs. Harvey, gifted me. Mrs. Harvey’s been kind enough to send me supper every night since I’ve been jobless. I don’t want to take advantage of her kind heart, though. A touch of concealer disguises deep shadows beneath my eyes. Falling asleep isn’t easy when I don’t know where my next paycheck is coming from. I check my reflection in the mirror and smile. I'm presentable enough for my interview.

“Good luck, Riley,” I whisper to my reflection before leaving.

The morning’s deliciously warm and quiet. The route to D Enterprises is lined with centuries old trees. Morning traffic is slow in Ballito. I pause to admire a few houses with colorful gardens and glistening pools. Kids’ toys lie in most of the front yards, and the houses have that lived-in family atmosphere. Someday I’ll have a place to call my own, I promise myself, walking away.

I have an hour to get to my interview, so there’s no need to rush. I pause to watch a few surfers catching some waves. They look so free against the waves that, for a moment, I’m jealous. I wish I could be as carefree and happy…

I set off for my interview a few minutes later. The roads are clear this part of morning, so I only check once before crossing…

“Damn.” I jump when a car screeches to a stop before the driver blast his horn. Sweat beads on my forehead, and I freeze in the middle of the road.

“Hey!” the driver yells through his window. Gold flecked eyes burn into mine. His mouth’s set in a thin, disgusted line. I never thought I’d see someone look at me that way again. For a brief moment, I’m trapped in the past, totally helpless against the circumstance I’m in.

“Could you please get off the road?” the man yells. “I don’t exactly have all day.”

Then it hits me—I’m standing dumbstruck in the center of the road. My legs refuse to move. He must think I’ve totally lost my mind. He doesn’t know I’m being held haunted by dark memories of my past.

The driver gets out of his car and marches towards me. “Are you on drugs or something?” A breeze ruffles his hair. It’s barely mid-morning and his shirt’s undone top to bottom, revealing neat blocks of chest muscles, broad shoulders and a slim waist tapering into his expensive black pants. His smooth, waxed skin glistens in the morning light.

“Hello?” He waves his hand in front of my eyes. “You need to get off the road.”

I know that, but something apart from shock has gotten ahold of me. Must be the fabulous design of muscles on him and the way his pants sit so low on his hips, but I’m tempted to rip them off to see if what’s below his belt matches up to the rest of him. My brain eventually comprehends what’s happening. He wraps his arms around me before my legs obey the commands of my head. Waves of cologne with a deep woodsy, oriental base note seduce my senses. He holds me tight against his warm, hard body. My head rests on his shoulders and I’m amazed at how rock-solid his body is against mine. For the first time in my life, I feel safe. Nobody, not even Justin, has ever managed to make me feel like this protected. Ever. I’m airborne for a few seconds, but it feels like forever. And just like that, he places me on the sidewalk, gets into his car, and speeds off unaware of the effect he’s had on me.

“Damn youngsters and their fast cars,” a passerby says after stopping to check on me.

“Yeah.” I count to ten and get a grip on myself. It’s the first time a stranger affected me so intensely. It was just a freak meeting with an undeniably sexy hunk who literally swept me off my feet. I’ll never see him again. There’s no point in dwelling over my near accident. I’m fine, the sexy driver’s fine, and I have an interview to get to. My nerves calm down.

D Enterprises waiting area looks like the set of a photoshoot for Cosmopolitan. London and Gem shoot me scathing looks. It feels like I’ve gate crashed a beauty contest. They’ve invested in Botox and designer white suits for today’s interview. Their presence nags me until I recall my conversation with Justin a few days ago. Is this Liam David’s business? No way. Do I even stand a chance here? The women waiting for their turn to meet the media heartthrob check and re-check their makeup. Is this even a real job? Or is it just an exercise in amusement for Liam to pass time? I’m tempted to walk out of here before I’m interviewed, but I don’t have anything else lined up. The interviews have already begun, so I’ll probably have a short wait, I tell myself.

It’s tough sitting amongst wafts of DKNY and Boss for women when all I’ve worn is Nivea roll-on. If Liam David’s after a one night stand, he’s got two full weeks of fun lined up outside his office. And, if he’s after someone who will get his research done on time, then he’s got only one choice. Me. Let's hope lady luck is on my side.

Although, from the bits and pieces of conversation I hear, none of these women are here for the advertised post. They’re after a much sought-after spot in Liam’s bed. I guess I should be grateful I don’t have much competition for the job opening. Unless I’m expected to offer Liam David sexual favors in exchange for the post?

Two hours later, I’m the only one seated in the African-themed waiting area. It’s nearly one thirty. My stomach’s crying for food, and my feet are numb from sitting too long. Mr. Cricket Star obviously has no regard for punctuality. Not impressive.

“Miss Hart?” The ever-smiling receptionist gestures for me to make my way to Liam’s office.

At freaking last. I consider flashing her a fake smile and then decide against it. Liam David worked his way through the leggy, picture-perfect air heads and left me for last. He deserves a piece of my mind. A few strands of hair escape from my ponytail. It doesn’t bother me. Liam needs to see what a real, working woman looks like, not the plastic-looking princesses he’s entertained all morning.

The door opens before I raise my hand to knock.

“Good afternoon, Miss Hart.” He greets without looking up from his laptop.

“Good afternoon.”

“Please come in and have a seat.” Something about his voice seems familiar…

“Thank you for attending the interview at such short notice…” He sits across me and looks at me for the first time.

“You?” The syllable escapes before I can stop myself. Anger overpowers memories of this morning’s instant physical reaction to his body against mine.

He stares at me like I’ve totally lost my mind. “I’m sorry?”

“You almost ran me over this morning.” I point an accusing finger at me and instantly regret doing that. Damn. I should have shut up instead of reminding him. I’ve probably ruined my miniscule chance of getting this job.

His pleasant business mask dissolves. “You really need to pay more attention to what you’re doing. You could’ve gotten yourself killed.”

“And you need to pay attention to the speed limit. You were probably doing a hundred and twenty in a forty-kilometer zone.”

“I had an urgent meeting to attend.”

“So being late for your meeting makes it okay for you to run me over?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, the corners of his mouth twitching like he’s about to smile.

“Then what did you mean?” I ask.

“The world may take a year to rotate around the sun, but we live our lives in fast forward. And,” he leans forward, “Rules were meant to be broken. Sometimes you have to do whatever it takes to get what you really want in life. Remember that.”

His gaze meets mine. I’m tempted to look away. People looking into my eyes freak me out. My mind flashes back to St. Mary's—to one of the sisters squeezing my face in her hand.

"I know you're hiding something. I can see it in your eyes," she’d say before slapping me across my face.

"Miss Hart?"

I snap back to the present. “Yes?”

He folds his hands across the desk, his golden eyes remain fixed on me. “The past should remain where it belongs.”

It’s easier said than done. Even though it’s something I tell myself every day, forgetting the past isn’t so simple. Especially since mine is tinged with blood . . . “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Be careful. Anyway, I’m not going to let this morning’s incident affect your interview.” He flips through my resume. “Let’s get to it. What makes you the ideal candidate for this post, Miss Hart?”

I clear my head and recite the words I’ve practiced over and over. “I have a sound theoretical knowledge of what the job requires. I recently completed a mini research project on consumer perceptions towards visual displays in stores earlier this year which was published in my university’s online academic journal. Feedback from retailers on the research has been phenomenal. A few of retailers have used the results of my study to improve their visual displays.”

Liam nods. “I’m aware of that. It’s in your resume which I’ve actually read. Tell me something I don’t know.” He lowers his voice. “I hope you’re not prone to walking into office furniture? I haven’t had any injury on duty claims since I took over from my dad, and I intend keeping my record clean.”

Oh no, he didn’t just drag this morning’s incident into my interview—again. I wish I could slap the arrogance off his face. My temper snaps. “I’m not. So don’t stress over your injury on duty record. For your information, I’m a professional at what I do. I meet deadlines on time. I learn fast. I assisted Dean Beard, CEO of African Banks Limited, with his recent marketing presentation which got him international recognition. And I single-handedly managed all administrative duties at Seeling International. In other words, Mr. David, I know my shit. I work hard and I have my head screwed on right. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have better things to do than sit here and listen to your insults.” Fury raises my body temperature.

“Better things like what?” he asks with an amused smile like I’ve just completed a comedy set.

“Look for a real job.” Me and my big mouth. Anyway, this arrogant jerk deserves to hear the truth as it is—minus the sugar coating.

“Why? This job is yours.” He holds a sheaf of stapled papers out. “Please read through your contract, sign it, and return it to Henrietta before you leave.”

“What?” Is Liam David for real? Or does he get his kicks out of tormenting interviewees?

“Welcome to D Enterprises, Miss Hart.” Liam smiles and his hair flops over his forehead as he gets up to let me out his office. “This company needs people who know their shit and aren’t afraid to show it. I like your spirit. I’ll meet you at eight a.m. tomorrow and brief you on my pilot research project.” He lowers his voice. “Don’t keep me waiting. I’m not a patient man.”

I can’t decide whether I should be happy or angry. Happy because I’ve got a job or angry because Liam David is a self-assured jerk. I accept the contract with a smile. He’s saved my ass from potentially being on the street.

“I won’t. And, thank you.”

The contract is straight forward, and, to my relief, the job is permanent. The salary isn’t bad either. I can’t believe Liam hired me after I told him off. I sign the contract and leave D Enterprises on a high.

Mrs. Harvey’s waiting with supper when I get home.

“Thank you, Mrs. Harvey.” I’d starve without my landlord’s intuitive kindness.

“You’re welcome. How was your day?”

“Great.” I smile. “I got a job.”

Mrs. Harvey pats my hand. “Congratulations,” she says before leaving.

I eat quickly and head for study group. I texted Justin earlier and told him about my interview. He’s waiting outside the makeshift classroom eager for news and juicy tidbits on Liam.

“How did it go?” Justin wants to know after air kissing me. He’s all smiles.

“I got the job.”

“You lie.” Justin’s mouth opens in a perfect ‘O’.

“Nope. I’m starting tomorrow.”

Justin grabs me and hugs me so tight my bones hurt. “Congrats, Ri.” He holds my hand and squeezes it like I’m going to leave and never see him again. “I’m so incredibly proud of you.”

“Thank you.” He glances at London and Gem. “They’re anxiously awaiting Liam’s call. Should we end their misery?”

“If you want to.” I grin.

“Nah.” He lets go off my hand. “Let them wait a few more days.” He leads me inside the center. “I want you to tell me everything. Every miniscule detail. What was he wearing? What did he smell like? What’s he like in person?” Justin sighs. “What I’d give to spend a minute in the company of a God.”

Justin’s dramatization of his infatuation with Liam is a fraction short of hilarious. I’ve never had a best friend. Justin’s filled that gap since we met at study group last year. I’m careful to keep my distance and not reveal too much about myself. My philosophy is the less people know about me the better.

“I’m waiting,” Justin reminds me once I’m seated.

“He was wearing a black suit and white shirt. He smelt okay, I guess. I didn’t pay much attention to his cologne and stuff. And he’s a total jackass in person.”

Justin frowns. “Jackass?”

“Yeah. He almost ran me over on the way to my interview. And then acted like it was my fault.”

“It probably was, Ri. You should keep your eye out for signs of the God now that we know he’s in town.”

“I told him off.”

Justin’s hands fly up. “You didn’t.” His eyes turn glassy like he’s about to have a seizure or something.

“I did. He hired me after my outburst.”

“He’s obviously forgiving, Ri. Gods usually are. So what exactly did you tell him?” he recovers from shock in an instant.

I shrug. “Nothing major. Just that I know my shit…”

“You used the word shit in his Lordship’s presence?” Liam pats his face with his white silk scarf. “Riley Hart, you’re a woman. Women don’t use those trashy words in the presence of Gods.”

“Sorry.” It’s pointless arguing with Justin.

Study group is pretty intense after our tutor, Mr. Madden, arrives. Lectures go on until ten thirty. Justin drops me off after class. “Good luck tomorrow, Ri. Text me all the juicy details and send me some pics of Liam.”

“Will do,” I promise, even though I have no idea how I’m going to take pictures of Liam without him noticing. Liam will probably think I’m crazy if he catches me taking photos of him. Worse, he may think I’m after him. Justin waits until I’m inside the building before leaving.

Butterflies fill my stomach at the thought of tomorrow. I wish I had a family—a mother, at least. Someone who’d comfort me and tell me everything will work out just fine. The ad for the vacant post may not have been descriptive, but, after being at D Enterprises, I’ve figured being Liam’s research assistant is going to be really demanding.

***