Dirty Seduction

I pressed my back to the front door when I slammed it closed, eyes shut tight as I tried to come down from hyperdrive. I must have been as pale as a ghost as I gathered myself, choking back a fresh round of sobs. My ears were ringing, and I could feel my pulse in my temples, but it would be ok… Mum would be ok now… she’d be ok.

The man upstairs was in the kitchen when I opened my eyes. He was helping Mum to her feet, supporting her as she winced in pain with her hand on her side. Shit, it looked like Scottie had punched her in the ribs, too. No surprise, since it was his usual go-to spot. Nobody could see the bruising.

Together we eased her onto the sofa as she gritted her teeth. I was sitting right beside her when I saw him reach into his suit jacket and pull his phone out. I watched him key in the emergency services number, but I choked out a wait before he hit call.

He looked at me, his piercing green eyes so hooded with rage that I felt the burn.

“There’s no point,” I told him, hating my words. “She won’t talk to them, and they won’t arrest him, and he won’t get convicted for it. He never does.”

I realized then that I’d never heard the man upstairs speak before. He sounded like an Etonian graduate when he did.

“The police won’t arrest him? Are you being serious? Of course, they will.”

I shook my head. “Mum won’t talk to them. She always denies it. Always. They’ll barely even look at her when they get here, they’ve seen it so many times.”

I sighed. At least we’d got almost six months clear by now. I’d even dared to hope…

Mum was looking at the floor, not at me, and not at him, either. He crouched down beside her, staring until she met his eyes.

“Is this true? Will you ignore the police if I call them?”

Her shrug said it all. Her voice sounded blubbery through her thick lips.

“Scottie is Scottie. He gets like this sometimes. It’s just how he is.”

The man upstairs raised his eyebrows, and his shocked expression confirmed my suspicions. He didn’t belong here in this block, in this place, in this crappy life.

“That’s absurd,” he told her. “That vile piece of shit needs arresting and charging. I’m going to get the police over here. I’m sorry, but he needs to be held accountable.”

Mum grabbed his wrist as he made to dial the number again.

“Please don’t do that.”

I wasn’t sure whether to shout or cry at her, so I did neither. I looked over at him instead.

“She won’t listen. She never does.” My voice burst into stupid racking sobs. “She never listens to me.”

It must have been like witnessing a car crash. The poor guy should have been watching Mastermind upstairs, or reading a classic highbrow novel, enjoying a quiet Thursday evening, but here he was, crouched in our shitty living room next to a smashed-up coffee table and two fucked up women.

“I still think I should call them,” he said, but I shook my head again. “It won’t make any difference. She’ll just lie to them and tell them she fell.” Mum found her fake brave face and smiled at him.

“I’ll be ok now, thanks. It’s over. Me and Scottie are over. I won’t be going back to him in a million years. No chance. We’re done.”

She always fucking said that.

He looked almost as unconvinced as I was, but he got to his feet. What else could he do?

“Thanks,” Mum said to him. “For helping me. Scott’s a jackass.”Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

“He’s more than a jackass,” the man upstairs said. “He’s a violent, abusive, cunt.”

My breath hitched at the sound of the C word spoken in such a posh tone. I was staring as he put his phone back in his pocket, his eyes still angry.

“Do you need the hospital?” he asked Mum. “It’s Beverly, yes?”

She nodded, giving him a lip-swollen grin. “Bev, yes. And no, thanks. I’ll be alright. It’s only a couple of bruises. No big deal.” I despised the way she always made it sound so normal.

His green eyes burned into mine.

“And you’re Rosie?”

I wondered how he knew my name since nobody ever spoke to him.

I straightened my glasses back up and took a breath.

“Yeah, I’m Rosie.”

“Julian,” he said.

Julian.

I got up from the sofa, so grateful for his help that I wrapped my arms around his waist to hug him. “Thank you so much for helping us.”

He stiffened up at that, uncomfortable, giving my shoulder a token pat as I squeezed him tight. He backed away as soon as he could, straightening his tie. His emotions retreated, eyes turning duller as the adrenaline in the room came back to earth.

“Do you need some help cleaning up in here?” he asked me, surveying the damage, but I shook my head. I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

“No, thanks. We’ll be ok now.”

He gave the slightest nod.

“Please do call the police if he shows up again.”

“I will,” I lied. “I’ll call them.”

“I’ll be upstairs,” he told us. “I’m happy to be called as a witness.”

The genuine expression on his face made my heart sink at its contrast in my life. This place was always so two-faced and dismissive. Nobody usually gave a shit.

I followed him to the front door, embarrassed at how I’d hugged him. I waved him off like he was just a passer-by, not someone who had just saved my mother’s life.

“Bye,” I said.

It sounded so pathetic, but he smiled as he held up his hand.

“Please, try to persuade her to call the police.”

“I’ll try,” I said.

I watched him reach the staircase before I locked us in tight, making sure I put the bolt across. Mum was sitting up straight when I joined her, daring to touch her ribs to check out the damage. No broken ones, it seemed. Lucky for her.

Weirdly, she was grinning. She looked bizarrely happy for a woman in the aftermath of an attack, with a split lip and swollen jaw. “He’s nice,” she said. “The man upstairs.”

I nodded. “Yeah, he was great. I’m so glad he helped us.”

“He saved me,” she said, looking over at the doorway. “Did you hear his accent? He’s definitely from somewhere posh.”

Yes, I’d heard his accent. The memory gave me goosebumps. Nice ones.

“What a great guy,” she said again.

I knew her voice when she was like this. Loved up, like whenever she made up with Scottie, gushing after he’d bought her a cheap bunch of apology flowers from the corner shop. I got a tumble of sparks in my stomach. A barrage of sensations all at once. Relief, mixed with hatred of Scottie, bound up with gratitude for the man upstairs. And something else… a feeling that floated like Mum’s voice did, right down deep.

“Julian,” she said like he was a savior.

And he was a savior. He’d opened his door to me as I screamed.

Mum stared wistfully over at the door.

“I like Julian, you know,” she told me, and I nodded.

Yeah. I liked him, too.