What’s Your Pleasure?
Lilly snatched the letter she had been waiting for from the hall mat and waited in a fever of shuddering apprehension for her brother to come out of the bathroom.
“What were you doing in there,” she scowled pushing past him in the doorway and slamming the door shut.
“Any letters for me?” Keavy called through the door. “The Bank said something about sending me out a letter.”
Lilly’s heart jumped into her throat.
“No, it’s for me,” she lied.
She pulled down the roller blind as if somebody could see through the opaque glass three flights up and read what she already suspected was in the letter.
Sure enough it was a demand for the full amount her brother owed on his credit card. Pay in full within ten days or else the bailiffs will be calling to recover the full amount in cash, cars or other luxury items, the letter stated baldly.
Lilly crumbled on to the toilet seat and put her head in her hands. What was she going to do? No way could she pay off Keavy’s s debt in such a short space of time.
Panic enveloped her when she read the total amount she had frittered away on her brother’s credit card on shoes, jewellery and vintage handbags and fashion on eBay. They had seemed too good a bargain to pass up.
No way was she going to be able to pay it off like she had planned before Kevin found out what she had been doing.
She was having difficulty getting a job. All the clubs wanted fresh little bodies and simpering teenagers who were willing to show all for tips. She scowled. She’d got one lousy tip for work from a young ‘dancer’ who had boasted about making money from ‘Honey Bees’.
Keavy would kill her! She was already living rent free in the house he shared with his partner – who didn’t like her.
What should she do? Keavy, innocent and trusting had made a good-hearted gesture and given her his bank details to buy some ‘essential’ when she turned up broke and unemployed after being evicted from her apartment.
She had told him a version of the truth and being her little brother, he had believed her.
Should she flush the letter down the toilet like she had done with the ones that had come before? Should she vanish into the night like she had done when she and Keavy were teenagers?
“I’m off to work at the bank, sis” Keavy called. “Hope you have better luck with the job hunting today.”
Guilt gripped Lilly. She’d told Keavy she was a flight attendant. The only ‘job hunting’ she had been doing was for jobs that were suited to the oldest profession in town. The only thing she was qualified to do.
She flushed the letter down the toilet and went in search of the scrap of paper she had written Honey Bees number on. It couldn’t help to find out, could it?
“Honey Bees, “What’s your pleasure?” What sounded like a kid’s voice cooed?
Lilly held the phone away from her ear and stared at it. What the hell kind of a place was Honey Bees?
“Put your mother or father or whoever is there, on the phone,” she literally shouted down the line.
There was a stunned silence and then the voice changed to a lilting Liverpool accent. “Who gave you this number,” the woman demanded.
“A baby assed cherub like you, doll,” Lilly said nastily. “I’m looking for work. I need to earn money – a lot of money right away. “For some reason she found herself telling the woman what she had done and why she needed the money.
“To work for Honey Bees you have to be good at make believe – make men believe what you tell them over the telephone, while you are doing your housework. It’s a work from home job,” the woman said in a prissy voice.
“Try me,” Lilly said feeling the opportunity slipping from her.
“Hold on.”
“You better be good. You’re costing Honey Bees money, “a man’s voice growled.
Lilly’s throat went dry. She licked her lips. She’d never had to talk much before only groan with pretend pleasure.
“Honey Bees, what’s your pleasure,” she croaked out.
There was a sound at the other end of the line like something between a snort and a groan. “Much too slow and hesitant,” the man’s voice said sharply.
Lily’s spine tingled. There was something very familiar about the man’s voice. She drew her brows together. It couldn’t be, could it?
“It’s you, Brian, isn’t it,” she said a plan already forming in her mind.
There was a stunned silence at the other end.
“Keavy will certainly be interested to hear about you’re little business venture on the side,” she smirked.
“Wait, Lilly. I know you and I don’t like each other but you wouldn’t tell your brother…about me””
“Why wouldn’t I…unless we can come to a …agreement.” She heard Brian swearing voraciously.
“You can start Monday. Start right away if you like. I always had you pinned for a slag…”
“Temper, temper,” Lilly said sweetly. “I have something more than a job in mind.”
Another silence fell.
But Lilly could feel his seething anger over the phone.
“My brother has run up substantial credit card debts. Unless they are paid right away you can expect a visit from the Bailiffs. I’m sure they will be interested in that nice little sports car…”
“You bitch. Keavy could lose his job at the bank…”
Lilly let him rave on for a bit.
“You know, Brian,” she said coldly, “I can see how you might be in the telephone communication business. You have a great way with words. Pity you will have to give it up when sweet natured trusting Keavy finds out how you really earn your money.”
“Consider all your brother’s bills paid in full. But Lilly, don’t be in my house when I get home tonight.”
Packed and ready to go, Lilly propped the letter to her brother against his favourite picture of him and her standing together as teenagers.
She closed the door smartly behind her. She’d flushed Keavy’s band details down the toilet. But not before she had booked a flight to New York and had confirmed her reservations for a classy hotel just off Broadway. Brian didn’t know it yet but it was his little going away present from him to her.
She was certain sure to get work there. She even had a glowing signed reference from Brian neatly typed on his personal headed business paper recommending she head up Honey Bees’ New York Branch that was just about to open..
Gemma Hill Writeyou Writeme 