Absolut Hell

Lucy sipped the tomato juice defiantly and wished she had ordered vodka instead. She was in terrible mood and listening to turgid conversation for the next hour was unlikely to improve things.

"No," she replied eventually. "I'm on a health kick and it involves ingesting five portions of fruit and vegetables per day. This counts as one portion."

"Well I'm on the Atkins Diet and there's my next portion of meat," whispered Sara with a lecherous look at the bar tender mixing her cocktail.

"You're disgusting." Lucy instantly regretted passing Matt's number to Sara. The poor guy was doomed.

Sara ignored Lucy's jibe. Instead she leaned over the bar to pay for her drink, making damned sure her cleavage was on full show at the same time. Lucy saw the bar man's eyes glaze over lustfully as he passed Sara the drink, his fingers lingering way too long when their hands touched. It was obvious that Sara had pulled yet again.

Are men really that shallow? That depressing thought kept Lucy fully occupied as she headed for the table where the rest of her colleagues were sitting. So much so that she failed to spot the plastic bag somebody had abandoned by a stool. Her foot caught in the strap and she tripped, falling straight into the lap of the new guy.

Tomato juice flew all over him in ruby red rivulets.

"Jesus Christ!"

Lucy grabbed the first body part she could reach in an effort to extricate herself from the unfortunate tangle of limbs. When she realised it was his thigh, she let go as if she'd been electrocuted. Could this be any more embarrassing?

His once lilac shirt was now pink and mauve and his expensive looking trousers were stained with a ruinous dark patch. Lucy's cheeks complemented the shirt perfectly: startling magenta.

"God, I'm so sorry...again."

"Are you always this clumsy?" His expression was one of complete exasperation rather than fury, for which Lucy felt some relief.

"Well, yes, actually, I suppose I am." Subconsciously her hand reached up and rubbed the sore lump on her head.

He sighed. "Would you like a replacement drink?"

She stared at him in surprise. "You'd buy me a drink after I threw the last one all over you?"

"I figure it's safer than watching you make another trip." His lip curled up at the corner and she blushed all over again. "What'll it be? Same again? Or would you prefer a vodka?"

"No, I'm not—" She stopped abruptly. "How did you know I like vodka?"

"You really don't remember, do you?"

There was something going on beneath the surface and she had a feeling she needed to find out what it was. "No, remember what?"

"We've met before—Saturday night to be exact."

Lucy sat down with a bump. Her heart was pounding inside her chest so hard she wondered if he could hear it. "Where?"

"You ran into the road, right in front of my car and I nearly hit you."

She tried to recall doing such a stupid thing, but there was still a blank page in her memory. It was so frustrating.

"Are you sure it was me?" It was possible he had mistaken her for some other drunken woman. After all, on the average Saturday night, there were usually hundreds of drunken women around.

"Lucy, you're not that easy to forget," he replied with a faint smile.

She knew then he was telling her the truth. At no point had she told him her name.

"You really don't remember what happened, do you?"

Lucy gazed into his orange flecked brown eyes and wished intently that she could remember what had happened. She had a strong feeling that she had enjoyed whatever it was. The guy was gorgeous. Who wouldn't enjoy a few hours in his company?

"No," she admitted sadly.

He stared pensively into his pint glass before looking up and saying, "Well then, I guess we'll have to start all over from scratch. My name's Chris."

"Lucy," she replied, shaking his proffered hand and feeling rather stupid.

"It's a pleasure, Lucy," he grinned. "Are you doing anything this evening?"

"Erm...no, not much?" She decided it was probably best not to mention the pile of ironing and the box set of CSI she had scheduled to watch whilst doing said pile of ironing.

"Great, me neither. How about we go somewhere a little less noisy and get something to eat?"

Lucy glanced sideways and saw Nigel drooling as Linda knocked back another large gin. The top button of Linda's blouse had popped open and she was licking her lips suggestively. It looked like it would only be a matter of time before the Black Widow went into a feeding frenzy. Lucy cringed and instantly decided she preferred watching such stomach churning events on the Discovery Channel.

She gave Chris her undivided attention. "Sounds lovely!" If nothing else, at least she could find out just what embarrassing things she had done the first time they met. She just hoped it didn't involve anything illegal.

*

Lucy sat down in the small, intimately lit Italian restaurant and briefly gave herself a sanity check. As far as she knew, Chris was not a nutter, but since she still couldn't remember the circumstances of their first alleged meeting, how could she be certain? For all she knew, he was already planning which nice bottle of chianti would accompany his fava beans and her liver later.

But maybe that was a little paranoid, so instead she watched him as he ordered two drinks and tried once again to break through the memory block. Surely she would recall sharing a bed with somebody this sexy? Absently, she rubbed the still-sore spot on her head, and winced. Clearly the knock to her head had left lasting damage. That and the vodka abuse.

When the tall glass of vodka, lime and soda was placed in front of her, she looked at it as if it were witches' brew.

"Wrong brand?" Chris asked with amusement. "Or have you swapped allegiance to Bacardi now?"

"No, I'm just not supposed to be drinking tonight."

"Well at least that won't add any more stains to my clothing," commented Chris with a wry glance at his ruined shirt.

Lucy buried her face in the menu and pretended that the long list of pasta dishes was utterly absorbing.

*

Several glasses of vodka later and Lucy was feeling no pain. She was also finding it remarkably easy to forget her previous vow to abstain from alcohol. Chris was a very bad influence, she decided as she laid claim to the last piece of delicious focaccia bread. He was also very good company. So much so that she could barely remember who Gary was. She had certainly never had such fun with that bastard. Not that Gary had taken her out all that often anyway as the majority of the time his idea of a date involved him getting laid before pissing off home in time to watch the footy.

"Penny for them?" Chris asked when she failed to respond to something he said.

"They're not worth that much," Lucy replied with a grimace. And Gary wasn't. She could see that now; it was just a pity it had taken so long for the enchanted veil to lift. "Anyway, thanks for the meal—I've really enjoyed it," she said as the waiter cleared their dishes and they were left contemplating the dessert menu.

"Well at least this time you ate something before passing out," Chris commented as Lucy debated whether it would be rude to ask for a pudding as well.

She instantly looked up in mortification. "Oh God, was I really that bad?" She hung her head in shame. Why oh why couldn't she remember any of this?

"Yeah, you were pretty wasted," he laughed. "But you were also pretty upset, hence me not wanting to abandon you. I tried to find out where you lived, but I couldn't get any sense out of you."

"Do you make a habit of playing knight in shining armour to drunken women?"

"No, not usually, but then I've never had a woman attempt suicide beneath the wheels of my car."

"I just wish I could remember!" she wailed. The waiter hovering nearby raised one eyebrow in concern before scuttling off, obviously deciding that she was mentally unhinged.

"Well you did hit your head hard enough to pass out for a few seconds. I was going to take you to A&E, but when you came round, you insisted you were ok and that you just needed a drink of water, so I took you into the hotel with me."

Lucy's imagination filled the gaps in what he was telling her. She cringed at the mental image of herself, pissed out of her head, emotional, and concussed to boot. It wasn't pretty. Why on earth he had taken it upon himself to help her was a mystery. In his shoes, she would have run a mile.

"It was your bed I woke up in, wasn't it?" At least it wasn't some lecherous lout she had picked up in an alcoholic haze. Even better, at least it wasn't Gary's bed she had ended up in. The ramifications of that would have been far longer reaching.

He nodded before drinking the final dregs of his beer. "I suppose technically it was the hotel's bed rather than mine."

"And what erm...did we do before...erm me falling asleep?" She had to ask. If she had behaved like a total slut, then at least it was better to know now rather than hear the gory details via the office gossip machine.

"We talked a little, you cried a lot, and then I watched a movie while you snored for England."

"So erm...nothing happened?"

"Lucy, whatever you might be thinking, I can assure you, I'm not the type of guy who enjoys taking advantage of drunken women. I prefer my partners to be at least semi conscious."

Lucy scanned his face carefully to see if she could detect any signs of lying. But she couldn't. He looked and sounded like he was telling her the truth. Which was more than Gary had ever done, she reminded herself. He wouldn't know the truth if it came and bit him on the backside.

"Then how come I had no clothes on?" Whilst she wanted to believe him, she still couldn't help but think that something had happened.

He looked away and gazed intently at a large potted plant near the window. In an instant, Lucy guessed that her instinct was spot on—something had happened all right. Of course! He was just like all the other guys she had ever known. It was known as the 'mushroom effect'—feed her shit, keep her in the dark, and she was as happy as, well, a mushroom!

"You erm...tried to seduce me," he coughed before she could fling abuse at him.

In an instant, her face flushed with heat. "What?" she squeaked with horror, "But I thought you said I fell asleep while you watched a film!"

"You did fall asleep, but not until you'd done a dance of the seven veils on me!"

Lucy buried her face in her serviette and wished there was a deep fissure in the earth's crust, right beneath the restaurant, one that conveniently decided to open up and swallow them. Unfortunately, this was York, not San Francisco.

"Oh God," she whispered, utterly mortified that she had behaved like such a trollop. It was obvious that Chris didn't fancy her or he wouldn't have rejected her drunken advances. Strangely enough, that stung even more.

"Oh trust me, I wasn't complaining all that much at the time," he laughed. "I just didn't want to take advantage of you when you were drunk, emotional, and probably concussed."

She peeked through her fingers at him. He was grinning cheerfully.

"You could have put some clothes back on me once I fell asleep," she pointed out accusingly.

"Nah, I was too busy enjoying the view." He ducked to avoid the serviette she threw with no accuracy whatsoever.

*

Water dripped from the edge of the awning that covered the restaurant entrance. Lucy eyed the large puddles that had collected on the pavement with great suspicion. "My shoes are gonna get ruined," she moaned.

"Women!" scoffed Chris. He took her hand and dragged her out into the light rain that fell from an inky sky. "Do you live far away?"

"About a fifteen minute walk," she told him as she jogged in an attempt to keep up with his much longer stride. It occurred to her rather crossly that at this rate they would probably make it in less than five. But the feel of his hand wrapped around hers was strangely comforting. Gary had never held her hand without much coercion on her part. He had always said he didn't like being affectionate in public. Of course she knew now that he just hadn't actually cared enough. However, she wasn't thinking about Gary, she reminded herself as they crossed the bridge over the river.

By the time they reached her front door, her hair was plastered to her head and she knew she looked a mess. Strangely, she didn't care. Chris seemed in no rush to release her hand; instead he stared out over the twinkling city stretched out below.

"Pretty, isn't it?" he commented after a moment.

"I guess," she replied. "Suppose I don't notice any more. Been here too long I think."

"Not much view from my hotel room. It looks out onto a ventilation shaft."

Lucy felt sorry for him. Living out of a suitcase was crap.

"You can come in for a coffee if you like?"

It wasn't as if anything was going to happen, she quickly reminded herself. It was late, after all, and they both had work in the morning. Besides, the last time they had met, she had been rat-arsed. This time she was relatively sober and therefore fully in control of her wayward libido.

"That would be nice." His teeth gleamed brightly in the glow from the street lamp and Lucy was suddenly reminded of a picture in an old fairy tales book she had once owned—the big bad wolf in Little Red Riding Hood had also grinned in much the same fashion...shortly before he attempted to devour poor, innocent Red Riding Hood. She shivered while being acutely aware it couldn't all be attributed to fear.

Chris was forced to let go of her hand as she fumbled for her key. Eventually she opened the door to her building and they climbed the communal stairs. The light flickered on and off spookily and then went out, leaving only the emergency light glowing high above.

"Bloody cheapskate landlord!" Lucy grumbled. "He takes our rent but never spends anything on this place."

Just as Lucy turned to make sure Chris was behind her, the heel of her shoe caught on the edge of the stair. She felt herself falling sideways and reached out frantically for the banister, but her fingers touched nothing but air. Her head hit something painfully hard, and the world went black for the second time in a week.

*

"You have to be the most accident prone woman I've ever met," Chris told her when she opened her eyes, half expecting to see the stark décor of the local A&E department. Instead the familiar beige walls of her flat were in very much in evidence.

Her head throbbed yet again, but something felt different. It was almost as if a door inside her mind had miraculously opened. In a blinding flash of recollection, she was suddenly blasted backwards in time to Saturday night and all the missing memories hurtled through her brain like a dazzling kaleidoscope. The argument that had sent her running from the party replayed in ghastly clarity...

*

"Why didn't you tell me about Hayley?" she had screamed as Gary sank down on one of Megan's rickety garden chairs looking shocked.

"How did you find out?"

"I bumped into her earlier," Lucy snarled. "Your ex wife took great pleasure in telling me you and she were now enjoying a reconciliation after your touching night of passion six weeks ago."

He scowled and lit another cigarette. "It didn't mean anything. She rang and asked me to go over and sort the lawn mower out. We had a glass of wine and a chat and, well, one thing led to another. She did suggest we give everything another go, but I never agreed to anything."

"How could you, we were still together then!" Lucy could scarcely believe that after everything she'd put up with, he had not even managed to remain faithful to her. She collapsed on to the lawn and fought the angry tears that threatened. Why oh why had she come tonight?

"Oh come on, Lucy, it's not such a big deal," Gary wheedled. "I've really missed you these last couple of weeks. It's made me see how much I care about you."

She heard the words but not for one second did she believe them. It was too little, too late. Unable to stay in his presence for another minute, she grabbed her bag and dashed out of the garden and down the road, the vodka she had consumed sloshing around in her empty stomach nauseatingly. The shops and flats merged into a teary blur. The pavements were fairly busy with Saturday night revellers and more than one person gave Lucy a passing glance of curiosity, but she ignored all of them. The only thought in her head was to get as far away as possible from the man who had messed her life up for so long.

When she dashed across a road, hell bent on escape, it didn't occur to her to stop, look, and listen for traffic. Consequently, she failed to spot the silver car heading straight for her. Fortunately for Lucy, the car was travelling very slowly and it skidded to an abrupt halt before actually hitting her. The sound of squealing tyres registered briefly in her addled brain just long enough to stop her in her tracks. Her heel caught in a rut in the tarmac and she fell to the floor, hitting her head with a thump on the pavement. It was a painful end to her great escape.

"Are you ok?" the man was asking when she came too. She opened her eyes to find a pair of russet brown eyes mere inches from her face.

"Yeah, ouch, I think so," she managed to spit out. Everything was mixed up in her head and she wasn't sure what had happened, but she still recalled listening to Gary in Megan's garden. Fresh tears began to slide down Lucy's cheeks and she angrily brushed them away.

"I think you ought to go for a check up," the man told her as she struggled to her feet, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in her head.

"No, I'm fine," she insisted. The thought of sitting for hours in the casualty department was hardly very appealing. "I just need to get home."

"Where is home?"

It was a reasonable question, but for the life of her, Lucy couldn't remember. "Erm actually I think I need a drink, or something," she stalled. Christ, if she admitted she couldn't remember where she lived, she would be carted off in an ambulance in no time at all. She hiccupped as more tears fell and bounced off the pavement.

"Look," the guy said patiently, "How about you let me park my car over there and then I'll get you a glass of water in the hotel while you think about what you want to do. Ok?"

It seemed easier to do as he said. She didn't have the strength to argue anymore. The fight had all gone leaving a broken shell behind. So she followed the man into the hotel nearby and gratefully took the glass of water he fetched from the bar.

"Fucking men," she sniffed before gulping some down.

"Oh dear," the man replied with a faint smile. "That bad, huh?"

Lucy burst into another jagged bout of crying and the man passed her some tissues. Eventually there were no tears left to cry and she blew her nose rather noisily before dropping the tissue into the adjacent plant pot.

"Sorry," she apologised.

"Forget about it. Most fun I've had all evening."

Her head was spinning and she felt like crap, but it was hard to ignore the fact this man was seriously hot. "What's your name?" she heard herself asking in a flirtatious voice.

"Chris."

"I'm Lucy," she continued. Then remembering what had thrown her into Chris's path, she asked, "Are you married?"

He looked slightly taken aback. "You don't mess about, do you? Actually no, although I had a near miss two years ago."

Lucy smiled and moved closer. He really did smell good: kind of sexy. She closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder. It wouldn't hurt to sit here for a while. No. Once she had sobered up, she would ask somebody to call a taxi and head home, but not just yet. For now she felt...safe.

"Lucy, the bar's closing. We need to move."