Down London Road

Alistair inquired immediately if I was feeling better, and I lied and told him I was fine. It was nice of him to ask. Alistair was a sweet guy. I was glad, however, that we’d been so busy the night before that he hadn’t noticed Murray’s appearance. If Alistair had seen the interaction between us, he would have known something was wrong and he would have peppered me with questions. He was a sweet guy, but he was also a nosy bastard, and if I hadn’t given him answers, which I wouldn’t have, he would have sought out Joss for them. Joss would then be involved and well … she had a way of unearthing all of my secrets.
    It was just as busy as it had been the night before, and I was a jittery mess. I got drink orders mixed up, I dropped not one but two glasses, and in general caused Alistair to raise his eyebrows so many times he could have been mistaken for a Muppet.
    When the time for my break arrived, I couldn’t have been more relieved. I threw back water, staying away from anything with caffeine in it, since it would probably only make my nerves worse, and I pulled out my phone. Cole still hadn’t texted me.
    I rang him.
    ‘Uh, hullo?’
    ‘Uh, hullo?’ I sniped. Sometimes worrying could turn me a mite crabby. ‘You were supposed to text me when you got home. Are you home?’
    I heard him sigh heavily and had to stomp down on my aggravation so I didn’t scream at him. ‘Aye, I’m home. And when are you going to start talking to Cam again so you can stop being a total –’
    ‘Finish that sentence and die.’
    Silence governed on the end of the line.
    I scowled. ‘Are you still there?’
    He grunted in response.
    ‘I’ll take that as a yes.’ I tugged on the end of my ponytail, wrapping my hair around my fist. ‘You locked the door, right?’
    ‘Of course.’ He sighed again. ‘Jo, is there something else bothering you?’
    ‘Nope,’ I answered quickly. ‘Just, you know, I worry, so next time I ask you to text me, text me.’
    ‘Fine.’
    ‘Okay. I’ll see you in the morning.’
    With another grunt he hung up.
    As I blew out the air between my lips in relief that he was home and safe, I noted the envelope in the top left-hand corner of my phone screen. I clicked on the unopened message. It was from Joss.
    The Reign of the Vomit is over! Hope you’re not missing me too much:)
    I choked on a weak laugh and texted her back.
    Are you telling me you’re well enough to be working but aren’t? Tut tut, Mrs Carmichael, tut tut. x
    Two seconds later my phone binged.
    I was well until you called me that:\
    Better get used to it x
    Fuck!
    I laughed for real now, shaking my head. She was worse than a bloke. Poor Braden had his work cut out for him with that one.
    Feeling somewhat better, I returned to the bar, praying the evening would be over quickly. For the next few hours I couldn’t help but scan the crowds for Murray’s face, but as the night wore on and he didn’t show, I started to feel antsy. Part of me had wanted him to appear so I could get our confrontation over with. The sooner he realized I wasn’t with Malcolm anymore and didn’t have the kind of money he was after, the quicker he’d get the bugger out of Edinburgh.
    Last night I’d called a cab to pick me up at the door of the bar, but tonight I was feeling defiant. I was still angry at myself for reacting to Murray like I was ten years old again and defending myself against his fists. I didn’t want him to know I was frightened of him. I didn’t want him to think he had that kind of power over me. I wanted him to think he’d never left a mark on me.
    So I (in retrospect, stupidly) took my usual route home – walking to Leith Walk in hopes of grabbing a taxi with its light on once I got there.
    I stood on Leith Walk for five minutes, waiting for a taxi to turn down the wide road. The only one that did was mobbed by a small group of guys. As the taxi drove away, I stood there for a minute, listening to two drunken girls across the street shout names at one another.
    I was starting to get uneasy standing there alone. It never usually bothered me because Edinburgh was still soalive at this time in this area – people were still out and about, witnesses to halt any nefarious intentions of a creepy stranger. But I had goose bumps and the hair on the nape of my neck prickled. I whipped my head around, scanning back up the road I’d just walked down. I couldn’t see anyone watching me.
    With a weary huff, I decided to just