Challenge 01 - Heather in the City

What did they used to call men like this. 'A lady's man' wasn't it. A phrase that covered a lot of ground - much of it absolutely unacceptable in the world of a modern woman like Heather. She almost sneered just thinking about it. Almost...

Because it was a little different when you were sat next to a man like Harley. It wasn't just the Mercedes and that swish apartment of his. One benefit of always having money was that it didn't tend to impress you. He had that something or that combination of somethings - his personality, his charm, his presence, his confidence. Wherever they had been Harley had been treated with respect - she knew that took more than just easy-going charm in H-town. She didn't think that she had ever met anyone quite like him. She had met others who tried or pretended to be like him but they were all just a cheap facade hiding a little man. Harley seemed to actually be the real deal and there was no wonder that so many women would find him so attractive.

He wasn't driving fast but it seemed that all too soon they were back at the parking garage.

He turned off the engine and looked at her. "Any help to you?"

She took a moment to remember the reason for her trip to the city - the research for her paper. "New experiences can be good or bad but they are seldom a waste of time. I'm not sure what I can use for my paper since I wasn't really expecting your information to run in this direction. My supervisors might not be too impressed."

She saw Harley's eyebrows furrow a little and realised that he had genuinely wanted to help, was disappointed that he apparently had failed to do so. She hurriedly completed her thoughts. "Your other contacts were wonderful - absolutely invaluable. They are going to make my work much more filled-out and impressive. Perhaps they might even secure me a doctoral transfer. I am so very grateful for all that you have done. I can mention this aspect but perhaps only carefully - without too many details."

Harley was watching her closely but finally he nodded. "Well that's your province not mine. Glad to have been of help. Have a safe drive home."

She instinctively almost leaned in to kiss him good-bye but managed to stop herself. The realisation of what she had been about to do rather flustered her. Instead she held out a hand and Harley shook it, his big black hand gently engulfing hers. She reached for the door and almost stumbled out of the car. This sort of thing didn't happen to a young woman like her. It was ridiculous and she felt ashamed of herself. She barely pulled herself together to wave as the Mercedes eased its way past her and up onto the ramp to the outside world.

***

"It is an interesting proposal." The man was small, impeccably-dressed and with the cut-glass accent that only the hereditary English academic of a certain age could still pull off. Professor Solon was indeed the grand-son of a very distinguished Oxford anthropologist and his family's intellectual credentials extended back even further.

Heather watched him nervously. It was hardly crucial for her future that he recommended her. In the end she had her trust fund - she would be OK whatever happened. However, she was ambitious to succeed and to make it clear that she didn't have to ride on her family's money and name. The approval of Solon would go a long way towards that. If he approved a doctoral paper then who knew where that could lead. Fortunately, unlike most of her fellow-students, the issue of her funding was not a problem.

"I have a desk-full of papers along similar themes of course." Solon's voice came through the speakers as his image on the monitor looked down at the documents on his desk. "However, your section regarding 'H' and 'the Owner' is a little more notable. In fact, I will be frank, it has the potential to be ground-breaking. The sort of research that can establish a reputation. A little outré of course but I could tell you some tales of my own grand-father's researches in a time much more hide-bound than our own." Solon chuckled to himself and pressed his spectacles back up his nose with one finger. "You'd like my advice I presume?"

Well WTF did he think she was on this call for? Heather bit down her impatience. "Yes please Professor." She tried to give him her sweetest smile. It was quite a pride of her college that Professor Solon acted as an external doctorate advisor and so she had to behave.

"The rest is a good introduction, a very necessary introduction, but the meat of the research should be carried out in the section that I have indicated. That is where the truly original work can be under-taken. Of course it is somewhat confidential, not to say potentially controversial, and so I would advise completing your initial paper without that section. I'm sure that would be more to your college's liking." Again his finger pushed up spectacles that refused to remain in place.

Heather felt her ears burning Her vague suggestion to her College supervisor, Jane Allison, had been shot down in flames pretty immediately. 'Not a suitable field of research', 'not in the interests of encouraging female emancipation', 'not acceptable sources of information.' Her proposal had somewhat watered down her intentions by speaking vaguely of 'adult entertainment' and 'grey-market activities'. Doctor Allison had made it pretty clear that only 'orthodox' and 'regular' commercial activities should be covered by any future project. That had annoyed her but not deflated her. Which was why she'd decided to go for broke and why she had been a little more candid in the submission she had sent off to Oxford as a PDF.

Solon gave a little grimace. "Can I presume my associate and colleague Doctor Allison did not agree with my analysis and recommendation?"

"You could say that."

"Indeed. I suspect that I just did." Solon looked at her severely and then gave a little nod and smile. "I am willing to endorse your proposed programme along the amended lines that I have suggested. I think it best that you come under my direct supervision as a distance research scholar of my own institution. I doubt your college will disapprove. If they regard this as a little bit of 'poaching' then I'm sure I can make it up to them elsewhere."

Heather had always felt that several of the staff resented her taking up a valuable place simply because of her family ties to the college. Well that wouldn't matter now - they would hardly be willing to go against Professor Solon!

***

Indeed they wouldn't. Having a student transfer to a Doctoral programme at Oxford was good for any institution. If they didn't have to supervise her then that was a bonus she suspected.

One of the problems with having a nice fat trust-fund was that you really didn't NEED to do anything. Having a purpose in life, a career, could seem pointless. She knew better than that. She dreaded the boredom, the ennui, and she dreaded it for itself and not just for the various intoxicant paths that it could lead you down.

Now she had her motivation, she had her aim. Three years of doctoral research leading to the production of a ground-breaking thesis. A potential position at a prestigious seat of learning. So long as she kept Professor Solon happy then his support would be invaluable.

It was a little frustrating that things were not turning out to be so easy. She had e-mailed Allie who had passed her message on to Harley. He, to her surprise, had not been as enthusiastic as she had hoped. She had suggested sending him a rough draft of a questionnaire to be distributed among potential sources of research information.

In a message exchange Harley had frankly been scornful. 'U think people down here are gonna put shit in writing for someone they don't even know. Someone who ain't a part of this life?'

'If you asked...'

'If I asked then they might. But how are u or me gonna know whether it's all BS?"

"Could I pay them?"

"Yeah - then u be a real mark. They'd sell u a line out of principle. Folks down here look after themselves. They don't trust people outside the life and they sure as shit don't feel like they owe them anything. That kite won't fly.'

'What can I do?'

'Think about it - if I can help I will but I can't be pushing others. U got to win them over yourself.'

It was infuriating. She didn't know why Harley was making things so difficult. She frankly wasn't used to things being difficult or to people saying 'no' to her. But without him she knew she would never get the contacts she needed. So she did what he said and thought about it. She thought about it for two weeks and then, finally, messaged him back.

'Harley - cut me some slack. How can I do this?'

'By taking my advice.'

'OK - what do you suggest?'

'No-one is gonna be able to do anything from the outside. To get the contacts and info u need then there's only one way. U smart enough to know what it is.'

She didn't understand but she also knew it was another of Harley's little tests. She re-read his message a couple of times and then in a stark moment of clarity she did understand and it didn't help at all.

'You are crazy - there's no way I am getting involved with anything like I saw at the clubs. That's absolutely out of the question.'

'Who said anything about that? U need to be part of the life, to be able to show that u ain't no damn tourist, to show that u down with how things is. So you ready to listen to some real talk?'

'I'm not committing myself.'

'I know u too smart to be signing blank checks. So u gonna write u proposal, then u can start on the introduction and the more white-bread shit. How long before that's all done?'

She wasn't entirely sure. 'To a finished product - probably just short of a year.'

'I'll give u nine months after approval to send it over. At the same time u can do a little prep work for our part of the deal. If u sure u up for this. Not like agreeing to anything right now is gonna cost u anything - 'cept some hard work and some sweat."

He sent over a document. She opened it and read it. As she did so she remembered the conversation between Harley and the club-owner about her appearance. She knew that she should refuse purely on principle. However, she also realised that he wasn't wrong. It really wasn't costing her anything and deadlines were often motivational. As for his instructions - well, when did getting fit ever hurt someone?

'I'll do it.'

'Set a date - April 7 sound about right. Prove u done the work and I'll show u how u gonna get this thing done.'

Heather took out her phone. She automatically moved to her photo gallery and down the ranks of images until she found the one that she wanted. It was far from the first time that she had found it, enlarged it to fill the screen and then looked at it.

There was the wall, well the depot door, covered in gang tags. Stood in front of it was a young white woman, naturally attractive but plainly dressed and wearing no make up. She was looking out at the camera from under a fringe of auburn hair, the pale skin of her face framed by the same. She looked very alone and very out of place but her eyes looked out defiantly and her mouth was set in a determined expression.

Heather really liked that picture that Allie had taken of her. She looked like a woman ready to achieve her goals, to deal with anything the world might throw at her. That was how she like to think of herself and that was why she was going to succeed in her project. Come what may - she was going to win.