Heller (7 page)

“I’m sure
you’ll understand if I don’t offer to shake your hands,” I said,
holding out my bleeding palms to them like a tortured saint begging
for mercy. “Very nice to meet you both though. I’m just leaving.”
Clive stared at me coldly and Sid nodded and smiled. Well, I think
it was a smile. It cracked his stony countenance, revealing
surprisingly tiny regular teeth. But his smiling face was only
marginally less alarming than his angry face.

“You’re not
going anywhere,” Heller ordered. “You need more first aid and we
haven’t finished our interview yet.”

My mouth
opened and closed like a slow-witted fish. Did he honestly think I
was going to hang around to be physically and mentally tortured
some more? Oh man, he was a real piece of work! The interview was
well and truly over as far as I was concerned.

“What do you
mean
more
first aid?” asked Sid.

“Niq kicked
her in the face earlier,” Heller answered, regarding me
unsmilingly.

“Trouble-magnet, is she?” Clive scorned, his lip curling.

“Apparently,”
replied Heller, and they stared impolitely, almost as if waiting
for some other disaster to befall me. When I failed to oblige, they
turned away and resumed their discussion. I bristled indignantly
with the unfairness of it all. As if being kicked in the face and
nearly blown to pieces by a ball thingy was my fault!

“Look, I
appreciate your willingness to resume our interview, Mr . . . um .
. . Heller, but I’m slowly bleeding to death here and I’m sure you
understand that after everything today, I just want to go home.” I
carefully picked up my handbag with my stinging hands, the blood
smearing all over the cream leather-look material. “Oh, now look
what’s happened! That will never come out. This has been the worst
day I’ve ever had.” I could have cried in frustration.

“Stop!” Heller
ordered again. Before I could blink he was standing closely in
front of me, looking down. “You haven’t told me what that other job
was yet.”

I raised my
eyes to him and sighed. What did it matter if I embarrassed myself
before him one last time? I’d never see him again and my parents
had always told me to take pride in my work, no matter what I did.
So I took their advice and met his eyes as I spoke. “I played a
slice of watermelon in a fruit salad song-and-dance routine. It was
a big hit with the primary school kids.”

He closed his
eyes briefly and his beautiful lips clamped together as if to
suppress a shout of laughter. He couldn’t stop them twitching at
the ends though. Fed up, I spun around, determined to finally
leave. He grabbed me by the arm and turned me back around
again.

“I was just
about to offer you the job on a one month trial. I’m impressed by
your ability to handle unexpected events in a calm and collected
way. You haven’t fallen to pieces, despite today’s many, er,
misfortunes. I didn’t see that in any of the other applicants, and
frankly it’s a vital skill in this office.” He paused for a moment.
“Plus, you’re very entertaining.”

I shook off
his hand angrily. “I’m not here to entertain you! I was looking for
a job, but I’m no longer interested in this one,” I said huffily as
I started to stalk out of the office again, not without some
satisfaction I confess. But I also knew that I had to get out of
here before something else happened to me.

He mentioned
the salary and I stopped dead in my tracks at his office door,
hesitantly rotating, sure I’d misheard.

“How
much?”

He repeated
the offer. My bank manager sat up with interest.

“That’s a very
generous salary.”

“You’ll earn
every cent of it,” he said, which sounded like a threat to me.

“Does this
kind of thing,” and I waved my hand around his ruined office,
droplets of blood spraying freely, “happen often?”

“No, this is
nothing, a little unfriendly rivalry with one of my competitors.
I’ll sort them out soon enough.” He looked me up and down
critically and I clutched my bloodied handbag to my chest
protectively. “I’ll also pay for your clothing and styling. I need
you to look absolutely professional at all times. With my
clientele, appearances are critical to my success.”

I suddenly
felt dowdy in my borrowed clothes.

“Hmm,” he
added, looking me over again unfavourably. “You really are going to
require quite a lot of styling. And some toning as well. You aren’t
as in shape as you ought to be for a young woman, though I think
there are good bones underneath there somewhere.”

Make that fat
and dowdy.

“And like most
of my office staff, I want you on call twenty-four hours a day.
That is why I pay so well.” He added casually, “It would be best if
you moved into the building.”

“Live here in
the office?” I asked in surprise.

“Yes, several
of us live here in this building.”

“You want me
to move in with you?” I squeaked. My stomach did a double-flip.

He grinned
nastily, flicking his eyes up and down me again. “If you want to,
but I was thinking rather of a small place I have on the fourth
floor. One bedroom, self-contained. No rent.”

I blushed
ferociously at my
faux pas
and gathered together the
remnants of my battered dignity. As if I really had any choice. It
was either working for Heller or humping the landlord.
Unsurprisingly, on remembering the landlord’s greasy hair and fat
belly, I chose Heller.

“That would be
most satisfactory, thank you, um . . . Heller. When would you like
me to start?”

He shot me a
withering glance. “I have offered you a job and you have accepted.
You have just started working for me. I’ll ask Daniel to show you
around and then you will return to your flat and pack your
belongings. You will move in today.”

And with that
imperious order, he went to his phone and summoned Daniel and Niq
back upstairs.

After he
organised a glazier and a cleaning crew, Daniel led me up two
flights of stairs to my new little flat on the fourth floor. It had
the same redbrick walls and starkness as the other areas in the
building that I’d seen, but there was pale green carpet on the
floor and the furniture was white, bright and modern. The flat had
a cheerful IKEA-look about it, although I was quite sure it was
actually very posh furniture. I glanced around me happily, thinking
that with a few little personal touches it would be quite cosy. And
I would live here alone, not with three other people! Sheer luxury!
It wouldn’t be hard to turn my back on my current dingy little
flat, with its rickety and lumpy tenth-hand furniture.

The bathroom
was modern white and sparkling clean and also housed a washing
machine and dryer. The bedroom had a comfy queen bed complete with
good quality white linen and a small walk-in wardrobe. The kitchen
was very compact, but fully-equipped with utensils and cooking
implements. The combined living-dining room was pocket-sized, but
so well-designed that it still felt spacious. Lots of natural light
flooded in from the white-trimmed sash windows, and with its high
ceilings the flat had a pleasant airy feel. I couldn’t wait to move
in. Daniel watched my progress through the rooms with
enjoyment.

“Everything
looks so new!” I exclaimed. “Has it been lived in before?”

“No,” he
replied. “Heller converted it from some storage space only recently
when he decided we needed another staff member. You’re the first
tenant.” I was speechless with delight. He continued, “There should
be some towels in the bathroom cupboard and I’ve grabbed another
set of clean clothes for you to change into. When you’re finished
here come back down to the office.” He’d kindly brought up some
soap, shampoo and conditioner for me, as well as some disinfectant
cream and bandaids.

I took a quick
shower in my lovely new shower cubicle, the water jets on
full-blast to dislodge any stubborn remnants of glass. One check in
the mirror afterwards confirmed my suspicion that I now resembled
Edward Scissorhands’ sister, and I patched myself up as best I
could. I slipped into the expensive man’s jeans and long-sleeved
t-shirt that Daniel had left me.
The people here seem to love
dressing well
, I thought. I presumed the clothes were Daniel’s
again and I hoped I didn’t also end up bleeding all over them.

Back in the
office, Daniel guided me through the appointment paperwork and
arranged for my staff card and keys to the building. As he did
that, he filled me in on me a few work rules, including one that
reinforced my impression that the Warehouse was not a place where
you could spontaneously invite people over. Heller hadn’t been
joking when he said that he screened everyone who came to the
building. I wondered if he would let Dixie visit.

We were about
to commence our tour of the Warehouse when Heller walked back
through the door. He had obviously showered as well and like me,
was covered in scratches and cuts. He had changed out of his suit
into black jeans and a tight, muscle-hugging dark green t-shirt.
Having already been bowled over by his stunning good looks, you
would expect that I’d be better prepared this time. But you’d be
so, so wrong! Just at the sight of him again, my heart stopped, my
stomach flipped, my brain froze and my private parts grew hot and
tingly. God, he was absolutely heavenly. I tried to settle myself,
swiftly looking away so that nobody could see my desperate
expression. I really needed to find a boyfriend. Fast.

“Thank you,
Daniel. I’ve decided to take Ms Chalmers to collect her belongings
myself now,” he said.

“No worries,
Heller,” Daniel told him. “We’ve finished with the paperwork for
now anyway.” He turned to me. “Welcome to
Heller’s
, Tilly. I
hope you enjoy working here.” I smiled at him. He was a very nice
man and I could tell I was going to like him a lot. With a
surreptitious wink, he sauntered away, whistling to himself.

“Let’s go,”
Heller said abruptly and disappeared quickly down the stairs. I
hurriedly followed him down to the basement level, hobbling in my
tight court shoes, puffing by the time I got there.

“You’re not
very fit,” he remarked scornfully, and if I hadn’t literally been
fighting for breath I might have shot him an acidic response. He
climbed into a shiny black Mercedes 4WD, its vanity number plate
gold-coloured with black lettering spelling out HELLER.
No
question over who owned this one
, I thought with a well-hidden
smile as I clambered into the passenger side. I had barely begun
doing up my seatbelt when the vehicle squealed backwards and shot
off up the driveway to the entrance to the garage. On the street
though, he drove carefully. I noticed that he regularly checked his
rearview and sideview mirrors, prudently stuck to the speed limits,
and cautiously obeyed all road signals – almost as though he was
trying not to attract attention. It was the complete opposite of my
driving style. I regularly attract far too much attention from the
traffic police. That was on the rare occasions when I was flush
enough to actually own a car though. Mostly I was forced to use the
bus for my transport needs.

Heller didn’t
even bother to ask me where I lived, but confidently guided the
Mercedes in the right direction.
Of course, he already
knows
, I thought sourly. We didn’t speak on the trip. I stole
some glances at his perfect profile, but he kept his eyes firmly
fixed on the road. I went at one stage to turn on the radio, but he
glared at me so ferociously that I hurriedly leant back in my seat
and looked out the window instead.

Finally we
pulled up outside my slummy block of flats. Unaccountably, Heller
was able to find a free parking space right out the front when in
my entire two years living there, none of us had ever been able to
park closer than four blocks away. I stared at him with suspicion.
He was almost supernatural.

Unsurprisingly, the lift was now out of order and he followed me up
the stairs, which today smelt of urine, curry and cat crap. Shame
burned my cheeks and I kept my eyes on the ground. By the time we
reached the seventh floor, I was puffing like a stream train and a
sweat had broken out on my forehead. Heller remained cool, his
breathing normal. He shot me a look.

“Yes, I know!”
I spat out between heaving breaths. “I’ll start working out
tomorrow.” He raised a cynical eyebrow but said nothing. I fumbled
in my handbag for my key and opened the door. It was stifling hot
inside the flat and the smell of unwashed dishes and clothes hit me
as soon as I entered. I desperately did not want Heller to witness
the shabbiness and impoverishment of my life, and tried to close
the front door on him.

“I’ll be back
in a minute,” I insisted. “Wait there.” He wedged his well-shod
foot in the doorway. I tried again to shove the door shut on him,
but he pushed it open with minimal effort. I gave up. He stepped
into the slovenly mess and wrinkled his elegant nose.

“Quickly
please,” he commanded, as if he couldn’t bear to spend one extra
moment in the putrid surroundings. Thoroughly humiliated, I slipped
into the bedroom I shared with Dixie. She was asleep, snoring
lightly, windows wide open to catch a non-existent breeze with the
bedclothes thrown back in the heat. A longish t-shirt barely kept
her decent. This time I shut the door firmly, gloweringly daring
Heller to object. He didn’t.

“Dix! Dix!” I
said urgently. “Wake up.” I shook her shoulder, feeling guilty
because she’d worked the red-eye shift at the fast food store the
previous evening. She roused slowly and drowsily.

“What?” she
grumbled, annoyed, sitting up and yawning. “What the fuck, Tilly?
Why are you waking me up? You know I just got to sleep.” She rubbed
her large black eyes, ran her fingers through her spiked hair and
looked at me properly. “Shit! What happened to you?”