A Proper Charlie (13 page)

She heard Melvin roll his chair over towards her, and felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. ‘Sorry babe. I was about to tell you that you’d already met Mr M last night, but… sorry, doll. What happened?’ he asked.

Charlie shook her head that was still in her hands, and muttered, ‘Don’t want to talk about it. Too embarrassing.’

‘
Babe?’ Melvin lifted a mop of her hair so he could peer into her face. ‘What was that?’

‘
Oh, Melly.’ She looked up. ‘He saw my nipple!’

The rest of the day passed with the usual activities of office life. Charlie sped through her work, keeping a watchful eye out for Mr Middleton. She
planned to dive beneath her desk if she saw him. The morning’s meeting with him seemed to have burnt into her brain. His Frank Sinatra suit hadn’t been a fancy dress. He dressed like that ordinarily and wore his hair forties style. Thank goodness he hadn’t seemed to recognise her. That would have been awful.

She cringed when she remembered how she’d ruffled his hair and asked if his bow tie spun. What a stupid thing to say! And all with one boob hanging out! Thank God for her Spice Girl disguise, but damn… even if he didn’t recognise her, she still made a hash of introducing herself. Why didn’t she enter his office more carefully, instead of barging in and practically dismantling his desk? Why’d she try to guess his name? She groaned.

Melvin brought over a cup of coffee from the vending machine.

‘
You’re not rushing home after work, are you, babes? I’m being wined, dined and theatred at the weekend and I want your help in choosing me something suitable to wear.’

‘
You’re joking!’ Faye swivelled round on her chair. ‘Charlie can barely dress herself. It’d be like pissing on a bonfire!’

Ah, it was so good to have the old Faye back. Her ‘niceness’ since Andy broke up with her was becoming irritating. ‘At least I do dress myself. Who dressed you this morning? Some guy you picked up at last night’s bar?’

Faye gave a wounded gasp. ‘You – you bitch! I’m classically dressed,’ she looked down at her tight fitting dress, the zipper resting smugly against her straining breasts. Then she looked up at Charlie and with a curl of her lip said, ‘Hang on a minute – are you calling me a slag?’

Charlie calmly sipped her coffee; her eyes met those of Melvin’s over the rim. She was laughing. ‘Honey,’ she said to Faye, ‘if you can’t take it, don’t dish it!’

‘
Well said,’ came a deep voice from behind.

All three swung round. Ben Middleton was on the point of leaving the office, judging by his coat that hung over his arm, files and laptop in the other.

He nodded to them, but on leaving, Charlie caught his eye and for a moment, their gaze held. Her entire body filled with warmth, and her breath became trapped in her lungs and even though it must’ve only been a mere second since their eyes locked, to Charlie it seemed like hours. His chocolate eyes melted into hers, and Charlie could almost see the electricity that held them. But then the moment was gone, and so had Mr Middleton, and Charlie was left staring at the door, feeling confused.

‘
He’d be good looking if he didn’t dress so nerdy,’ Melvin said regretfully. ‘He needs a stylist.’

‘
Are you going to offer yourself for the job?’ Faye teased, her anger as usual never lasting for long.

Charlie glanced up at the door where Mr Middleton had been, and in her mind’s eye she could still see him standing there. She fanned herself with both hands, and tried to mentally picture Andy but somehow he had chocolate eyes and neatly combed brown hair instead bottle blond spiky hair.

‘
He’s not my choice of beverage,’ said Melvin. ‘You fancy a shot, don’t you Faye? I can tell.’ Melvin turned to Charlie. ‘What about you? I thought you were going to throw yourself under your desk if he came in?’

Charlie gaped at him, wondering where her voice had gone.

‘
Not for me. Anyway,’ Faye said. She stood up and with a hand on one hip, she sauntered over to Melvin. ‘I like my men pretty looking. A bit like you,’ she drawled. Her lips formed into a pout and she looked Melvin up and down.

Melvin preened beneath her flirtation. ‘Princess, you can thrust your melons at me all you like, but I’m afraid I’m as bent as a Curly Wurly
.
’

‘
What about you Charlie, do you fancy Middleton? I saw the way you both were looking at one another.’

Charlie flushed hotter, took a sip of her drink too quickly,
and coughed. ‘Of course I don’t fancy him!’ she said hoarsely. ‘What a stupid idea.’

‘
Hmmm,’ Faye said, drumming her chin with her fingers theatrically, ‘but I
saw!
You see it too, Melly?’

He shook his head, looking baffled. ‘Charlie and Sir? Are you mad?’ He glanced at Charlie and said, ‘No offence, babe.’

Charlie continued to sip her drink, trying to hide her rosy cheeks behind her cup and wondered just
what
had passed between her and Mr Middleton?

SIXTEEN

I
t was when she plumped up the cushions for the fourth time that she decided she would go out for more research on the prostitutes. She grinned, brightening as a plan pinged in her mind. ‘I’ll approach it differently this time,’ she said aloud, feeling ingenious. ‘And
I’ll
be a hooker for the evening. I’ll get information undercover!’

She rubbed her hands together, warming to her plan and picturing Melvin’s face when a publishing house took on her book and elevated her up the best-selling list.
She
would be sending
Fanny
to the canteen for her lunch and not vice versa; she imagined sending him for lattes and Sushi as Mr Middleton looked on in admiration.

‘
Obviously I won’t be sleeping with the clients, unless Orlando Bloom or Will Smith pulls up, but that’s not very likely. Hell, I’d settle for Terry Wogan at this rate! Hmmm what to wear…’ and she danced off towards her bedroom and pulled out a pair of stockings and a red garter from her drawer while humming to herself. In her over enthusiastic mind the dangers she might encounter were completely submerged.

On nights out makeup was usually just a slick of lip gloss, and so the hunt was on for her makeup bag which contained cosmetics not worn since her schooldays, unless you included the hideous occasion where she embarrassed herself in front of Mr Middleton at the fancy dress party. She found it after turning her bedroom and bathroom upside down, and emptied the contents in the bathroom sink.

She picked up a red lipstick and pulled off the gold lid. Before the sensible side of her talked her out of her mad plan she applied the lipstick to her mouth. Smacking her lips together she looked at herself critically in the mirror. It was amazing how a little makeup changed your face. She wiped it off and set about making up her face properly using foundation, lip liner and black kohl to line her eyes. She viewed herself in the mirror again: sparkly purple eyeshadow, pillar-box red lips and cheeks. Her makeup would match her red mini skirt and garter that she’d planned to wear.

She wrinkled up her nose in the mirror, saying with a grin, ‘Oh, I’m
such
a slapper!’

She straightened her hair and added the blond hair extensions she had used at the disastrous party, only this time she used all she had instead of just a few. When she’d finished she looked like a blonde bombshell from a 1980s budget movie.

‘
Goodbye Wallis,’ she told her reflection, ‘Hello Charlotte.’

*

Charlie slowed to a saunter on reaching the red-light area. She itched to pull her red mini down over the tops of her stockings, but resisted. Keeping close to the kerb and fixing a smile to her face she walked slowly along the pavement – had to walk slowly. It was a wonder she was walking at all in the four-inch red stilettos. She’d bought them in a sale a year ago and they’d never been worn until now. She wondered how Victoria Beckham coped with heels; she wondered about David Beckham…

A woman in the distance was leaning against a lamppost, puffing on a cigarette, and Charlie headed towards her. The woman watched her approach, and as she drew near said, ‘Bloody cold, ain’t it?’

Charlie couldn’t disagree. Already her feet were numb, although she couldn’t be sure if that was the style of the shoes. ‘Been here long?’ Charlie asked. ‘I’ve just started my shift.’

‘
Shift?’ The girl laughed. ‘Never heard it called that before. I’ve been ‘ere a couple of hours. Had two shags and made fifty quid. I might go soon.’

Charlie slipped her hand unseen into her bag and clicked on her tape machine, carefully aligning the microphone so it would catch the girl’s words but still remain invisible.

‘
I suppose the cold must be a problem standing out in all weathers. How long do you normally stay out?’

‘
Depends on how well I do. But it ain’t the cold, it’s that posh twat driving around and getting off on abducting us. T’ain’t worth it.’

‘
I think the police are onto him.’

She snorted. ‘The police are probably loving him. He’s helping them keep us off the streets after all. They call him The Gentleman Abductor because he’s posh apparently. Probably stabs you with a diamond encrusted knife or something,’ she muttered and took a deep drag from her cigarette.

This undercover interviewing malarkey wasn’t as easy as it looked. She wanted to talk about pricings, punters, sexual positions ... well maybe not that, but things that a prostitute got up to in the evenings.

‘
My name’s Jan, by the way.’ She stuck out a hand and Charlie was forced to drop the microphone to take it. ‘Sorry ‘bout me going off on one. He’s got me spooked, I guess.’

‘
I’m Charlotte,’ she said. ‘I think he’s got us all spooked.’ The girl didn’t look very old. Probably in her late teens. ‘You look very young to be out here doing this,’ she fenced.

‘
I’m seventeen,’ she said without blinking.

‘
Jesus – seventeen? The only things on your mind should be boyfriends and spots – Christ – seventeen!’

The girl chuckled at Charlie’s horror. ‘Been doing it since I was fourteen. Best job I’ll ever have. I bet I’ll be able to retire in two years,’ she said.

Watching the women from a café window was certainly different from actually meeting them. Charlie was scared for Jan. She was a vulnerable girl, who was clearly over confident or stupid or both.

‘
If you’re still alive. Can I give you some advice?’ At Jan’s noncommittal shrug, Charlie went on, ‘Do not get into punters’ cars, and do not take them back to your house.’

Jan laughed again. ‘I’ll not do it in some back alley like an animal. I’m all right,’ she said and tapped her nose, ‘I can smell danger.

‘
You’re new at this, aren’t you? C’mon,’ Jan said and hooked an arm through Charlie’s. ‘Let me introduce you around. Networking it’s called, and the more people you
know in this game the better you’ll do.’

Charlie had to bite her tongue. Networking whores? Do they have conference meetings and team building conventions too? Anyway, wasn’t networking to do with the Internet?

‘
Just one thing, though,’ whispered Jan as they approached two chatting women, ‘go it alone.’

‘
Eh?’

Jan touched her finger to her lips then whispered, ‘No pimp.’ She turned to the two women. ‘This is Sally and Max.’

They eyed Charlie up and down and looked at each other askance and smirked. Charlie didn’t know whether to feel insulted or amused.

‘
This is Charlotte,’ Jan said. ‘She’s new to the game…’ Jan laughed at her unintended pun.

Sally spat out her cigarette and fumbled in her handbag for another. She lit it, and looked at Charlie through a haze of smoke. ‘You inviting her to this patch, Jan? If I go short tonight I’ll know who to blame.’

‘
Aw, don’t give her a hard time, Sal, she’s new,’ Jan protested. ‘Take no notice,’ she said in a lowered tone in Charlie’s ear. ‘She’s probably out of dope again.’

‘
Hey, I heard that! You calling me a pot-head, bitch?’

‘
We all know you ain’t a druggie, Sal, now lighten up, would you? Oh, there’s Julie. She’s a married mum of two kids, would you know, and her old man thinks she’s stacking shelves in Tesco,’ she said, and she led Charlie away from the bristling Sally.

Charlie was introduced to Julie, who told her the same story as Jan about her pretending to go to work at the supermarket: ‘Why shouldn’t I get paid for doing something I enjoy instead of putting tins of beans on a shelf?’

Looking at it like that, it made some sort of perverse sense.

‘
Hi ladies.’ A man walked up to them. He evidently knew Jan, and circled her waist with his arm. ‘Hey, babe, fancy giving a little freebie to an old favourite?’