Playing Irish

  Playing

  Irish

  Brooke Harris

  Copyright © 2017 Brooke Harris

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased is purely coincidental. The author recognizes the trademarks and copyright of all registered products and works mentioned with this work.

  Editing; Laura Kavanagh

  Proofreading; Jenny Sims

  Cover: Najla Qamber

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  Acknowledgements

  About The Author

  Coming Aug 2017

  1

  Ms. Evangeline Andrews,

  You are cordially invited to an evening of splendour and

  extravagance.

  Reveal yourself

  Waterside Stud Farm

  July 26th RSVP

  Eva ran her fingertips over the crisp, ivory paper waiting on her desk. The raised gold font felt like tiny bubbles under her skin as she admired the elegance of the small, rectangular invitation. This was not how she expected Monday morning to start. She glanced over her shoulder suspecting to find sniggering faces staring at her. But life in the office was as mundane as any other Monday. If this was Meghan’s idea of a joke, she hadn’t let anyone in on the punch line yet. Eva checked her watch. Shoot! She had five minutes, and she was hoping to dash to the restroom before this morning’s meeting. But she had no time, she’d have to hold it. She couldn’t be late.

  The boardroom stank. A mixture of too much perfume, bitter coffee, and…Eva took a deep breath and coughed dryly. Ugh. Stale, cling-to-your-clothes cigar smoke. Yuck. She skilfully cast her eyes around without moving her head. Everyone in the boardroom was under forty, at least. Who in the hell under forty smokes cigars? She wondered if it was a cultural thing here in Ireland. She’d heard how the Irish like to smoke and drink, but she hadn’t seen much evidence of it since she’d spend most evenings in her apartment Googling ways to understand their strange phrases and thick accent. But, she did have to smile because cigars and brandy before a meeting at 10am had its charm. It was like 1920 all over again and life definitely had to be simpler back then, didn’t it?

  A seat at the huge, oval table offered a panoramic view of everyone and everything in the boardroom. Between fidgeting with her nails and looking out the window, Eva kept herself entertained by watching grown adults, in smart attire, subtly pass notes like school children and try to hide a laugh. Meghan, the office manager, continued her infamous Monday Minutes oblivious to everyone’s lack of interest. The two guys on either side of her were practically drooling over the top button of her shirt that looked like it might pop open any second. Eva knew Meghan’s appearance was gaining far more attention than the words coming out of her mouth. Last week, Eva spotted one of the interns slip Meghan’s used coaster into his trouser pocket as if it were celebrity memorabilia. Meghan, the rock star of the business world, Eva thought, rolling her eyes.

  ‘So…’ Meghan said, the apples of her cheeks rounded by her huge smile. ‘We have a couple of newbies with us.’

  Eva looked toward the coaster collector and gave a friendly smile.

  ‘Everyone give a warm welcome to...’ Meghan glanced at a piece of paper where she obviously had the newbies name’s jotted down. ‘Niall or Nigel or…’

  ‘Nathan,’ the intern mumbled, unsure.

  Meghan flicked her hand as if she was swatting an irritating fly. ‘Whatever.’

  She quickly reverted her stare back across the room. ‘And another big hello goes to Evangeline.’

  Eva tapped her chest with her fingers. ‘Me?’

  ‘Of course, you, silly.’ Meghan grinned. ‘Now, stand up and give us all a few words.’

  Eva’s chair squeaked sharply as she got to her feet and tried to hide her confusion. She wasn’t new. And she guessed half the room, who stared at her blankly, knew it, too. She’d worked in Ignite Technologies for over quite a while, and if there was one thing she’d learned in that time, it was that you didn’t contradict Meghan - ever.

  Eva cleared her throat as Meghan tapped the side of her glass with a paper clip. Christ, she wasn’t giving a wedding toast, was she? A couple of coughs and some shushing followed. Eva swallowed roughly.

  ‘Hi, everyone. I’m Evangeline Andrews and I’m…’

  ‘Oh, my God. Are you American?’ Someone at the far end of the massive, oval table asked as if American was synonymous with a three-eyed, slimy-tentacle endowed alien.

  ‘Erm, yeah,’ Eva said. ‘New Jersey originally.’

  ‘No way. My grandmother is from Hoboken. I visit every summer,’ the voice continued. Eva craned her neck to see who was talking, but the afternoon sun was glaring in the huge window and blinding her.

  ‘Okay, chatterbox. We get the picture. Thank you, Eva,’ Meghan said, rolling her eyes and shaking her head dismissively.

  Eva sat back down sheepishly and stared at the table, feeling as if someone had just knocked the air out of her.

  ‘Okay,’ Meghan continued, her enthusiasm punctuated by a single, loud clap of her hands. She paused until she had everyone’s attention. ‘I didn’t say anything on Friday because I didn’t want to get your hopes up, but Mr Doe will be dialling in this morning. He has an important announcement for us.’

  A huge cheer and applauding erupted as if everyone had just found out they’d scooped a share in the lottery. Oh, Christ, Eva thought, groaning inwardly. Was she the only one whose airways were starting to close in?

  ‘So, you know the drill,’ Meghan said. ‘If you need to freshen up, you have five minutes. Don’t be late coming back from the loo. Mr Doe doesn’t wait for anyone…not even me.’

  The air outside the conference room seemed easier to breathe. Eva was one of the few to leave. Others seemed content to slouch back in their chairs and chat amongst themselves to kill the time.

  It’s only a conference call. You can do this.

  Eva’s reflection nodded back at her unconvincingly from the restroom mirror. Her blue-green eyes and hazel hair reminded her of her mother and she took a couple of gulping-style breaths and ran her hands through her hair. But she struggled to push memoires of home from her mind.

  She quickly lowered her hands as the door swung open and giggling voices filled the air. Eva dabbed under her eyes with a damp tissue and pretended to adjust the mascara she wasn’t wearing.

  ‘There you are,’ Meghan said. ‘Oh, I love your cardigan; it really brings out your…um… eyes.’

  Blushing, Ev
a pulled her cardigan closed, hiding a huge coffee stain on her blouse from earlier that morning.

  ‘Yeah, lovely. Really lovely,’ a couple of Eva’s co-workers echoed from the sanctuary of Meghan’s shadow. Meghan’s latest BFFs on a long and ever-changing list, Eva noted.

  Meghan brushed passed Eva for an unobstructed view in the mirror. She mimicked Eva’s make-up adjusting antics, only she was actually wearing some, and she pulled back from the mirror, looking more fabulous than before. Eva couldn’t help but stare at her high cheekbones and thick, long lashes. Eva faked a smile and hoped her face belied her envy.

  ‘Isn’t it so exciting?’ Meghan asked, irritatingly unfazed by the awkward silence. ‘I can’t wait to buy my dress.’

  ‘Dress?’ Eva could feel her palms sweating, wondering if she’d heard Meghan correctly.

  ‘For the company ball.’

  Eva looked at the ground awkwardly, preparing to be the butt-end of Meghan’s joke. She closed her eyes and hoped she’d get it over with quickly.

  ‘Oh, sorry. I should explain,’ Meghan said as she continued to layer on more mascara. ‘Mr Doe dialled in early, just after you left, actually. He shared a couple of details about the ball and, poof,’ Meghan clicked her fingers. ‘He was gone as quick as that.’

  ‘He doesn’t stay on the phone long,’ one of the girls behind Meghan explained.

  Eva nodded. She’d noticed.

  ‘I’m so glad it’s black tie this year,’ Meghan flashed overzealous white teeth. ‘I think we could all do with a chance to dress up, don’t you?’

  Eva’s fake smile became so huge, her ears twitched. ‘Sure. Sounds fun,’ Eva said, throwing her arms in the air and adding an enthusiastic, ‘woo-hoo,’ instantly realising that it was too much as Meghan and her friend stared back, wide-eyed and motionless.

  ‘Gotta go,’ Eva swallowed. ‘Loads to do.’

  Eva heard giggles start as she left, and even if they weren’t laughing at her, it certainly felt as if they were.

  She missed home.

  Back at the safety of her desk, Eva shook her head and closed her eyes. Why did she always make such a fool of herself, she wondered. Meghan had actually spoken to her. Meghan almost never spoke to her. And all she could manage to do was wiggle her arms like a hyper monkey. It could be weeks before she’d get another opportunity to talk to Meghan. Ireland was going to be very lonely if she didn’t make friends soon.

  Eva knew she was socially awkward. She was born that way, and she had grown used to it over the last twenty-seven years. She rarely put as much effort into her appearance as the other women she knew. She’d never watched a YouTube makeup tutorial in her life and flats were so much more comfortable than killer heels that made woman walk like drunk ducks. Luckily, Eva’s clear skin and naturally straight hair allowed her low-maintenance approach to appear as natural and understated. But that was back in New Jersey. Back in the sanctuary of the city she grew up in. Ireland was different. The people here were different. And she was a distinctive outsider. Hiding at her desk during lunch and politely declining to go for after-work drinks meant fitting in was a near impossibility. Eva heard the whispers. She knew what people’s opinions of the stuck-up Jersey Girl were. And, much as the name calling hurt it was certainly better than reading her name in bold, black print all over the tabloids. Eva had to keep to herself. Friends asked questions. And questions were something she couldn’t answer. She didn’t need her past following her here. Being headhunted for this job was supposed to be her lifeline. She just had to figure out how to pass as normal and not draw suspicion. She had to find a balance. Easy – not!

  When the email from the social committee circulated later that afternoon, confirming the details of the ball, Eva’s panic at the thought of attending marginally outweighed her guilt at doubting Meghan.

  Eva was twitchy for the rest of the day. She’d never done anything like it before, but she had no choice. Or at least that was how she consoled herself. She couldn’t show up at the ball without a date. It would kick her freak status to an all-time high.

  Eva’s college freshman party was the last time she was awkwardly close to an attractive member of the opposite sex. That had ended with her date drinking a luminous, green liquid out of a plastic cup to impresses his friend and throwing up on her open-toe shoes. Now, ten years later, Eva stayed away from guys who drank liquids that glowed in the dark, and men who pretended to be something they were not. Her recent relationships had been less about looks and more about the nice guys inside. The skinny guy from the local grocery store was lovely, but he wasn’t about to make the office bitch drool with jealousy. No. Eva needed nothing shy of a ten on the hotness scale. Maybe if Meghan saw her with a really gorgeous guy, she’d suddenly know Eva existed. If Eva had Meghan on her side no one would be brave enough to talk about her behind her back and they certainly would have the courage to ask questions about her.

  Eva waited until everyone left the office before clicking on the link she had bravely Googled earlier. Casanova Agency appeared in a swirling, grey font on a soft cream background. There was nothing else. No info, no contact details, nothing. Eva tried dragging her mouse back and forth hoping for an image to appear. Nothing. She pressed almost every key on her keyboard. Nothing. A little bile rushed into her mouth, and she forced it down with an awkward gulp. What if it was a dodgy site? The whole office system could go down and the IT guys would trace it back to her. Her desk, her PC, and a frickin’ escort website.

  She was about to shut the window when she spotted three tiny letters in the bottom, left corner of the screen. She clicked on shh and waited. Loading appeared in a small, spinning, circle centre screen and a soft, violin solo began. Eva jumped before quickly hitting the mute button.

  A phone number appeared on the screen. Nothing more. No picture, or bio, or even a name. Eva tutted angrily. She hated clogged up, messy websites as much as the next person, but this minimalist crap was ridiculous. She wasn’t about to phone some random stranger. The site was a waste of her time and just made her feel more pathetic. She was about to shut the browser when an instant message popped up.

  Julian: Curious?

  Eva’s eyes darted around the office instinctively and she could feel the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand like obedient soldiers to attention.

  Julian: A little shy, are we?

  Her fingers hovered over her keyboard. She wanted to reply; she just didn’t know what to say, or who she was saying it to.

  Julian: Would you like my help?

  Eva135: Do you always ask so many questions?

  Julian: Do you?

  Eva135: I’ve only asked one.

  Julian: Are ther e more you would like to ask?

  Eva pushed her chair back from her desk and tapped her pen on her knee. Well, of course, she had questions. She had loads. Did this guy just wait around all day for women to click on his website? Who was he? How in the hell did someone become an escort? Why in the hell did someone become an escort?

  Eva135: Okay. What’s your name?

  Julian: Julian, I thought that was obvious.

  Eva rolled her eyes. Even cyber conversation made her look stupid.

  Eva135: How old are you?

  Julian: Don’t be greedy, Evangeline. You’ve had your question. It’s my turn. Why do you want an escort?

  Eva135: How do you know my name?

  Julian: Again, Evangeline, if you would like an answer to your question, you must answer mine first.

  Eva stood up. Did he seriously expect an answer? She paced the floor dramatically, drawn back to her screen only by the subtle tone of a new message.

  Julian: Are you still there?

  Eva135: Yes.

  Julian: Good. I thought you had run away. Are you going to answer my question?

  Eva135: I just answered one of your questions. It’s my turn again. Aren’t those the rules?

  Julian: Feisty. I like that. And you understand rules. I like that even more. Okay, Ev
angeline, let’s play by some rules.

  Eva135: How do you know my name?

  Julian: Your user name, it’s not hard to work out. Really, Evangeline. I find it hard to believe you don’t have a better question than that. I like you so I’m going to let you take another turn.

  Eva135: Isn’t that against the rules?

  Julian: My game, my rules. You’ve just used another question. It’s my turn.

  Eva poked herself in the knee with her pen. Damn, he was good at this. But she had studied psychology for three years, there was no way she was going to let him beat her. She was ready to up her game.

  Eva135: Okay, Julian. Your question.

  Julian: Why do you want an escort?

  Eva135: I don’t know if I do…

  Julian is offline.

  2

  Eva stared at her blank screen for longer than she was proud of. She didn’t consciously want Julian to reappear; she just couldn’t drag herself away from her desk. Finally, when life outside the office window diluted to a random passer-by every ten minutes or so, Eva decided she’d better go home before she ended up on the late train with all the weirdo types that scared her. She grabbed a marker from her desk drawer, scribbled the mobile number on the back of her hand, and dashed out the door, almost forgetting her coat.

  She couldn’t get her conversation with Julian out of her head. She was so curious it hurt. She imagined him in her mind. Tall, six foot, maybe a little over. And tanned. She allowed him dark, almost black, wavy hair and bright blue eyes.

  The station was ridiculously busy as commuters brushed past her. She almost missed the DART, but the man ahead of her got his briefcase caught in the door, and she managed to slip inside. She looked at his tired face. She guessed he had a wife and kids, and he just wanted to get home after a long day at work to kiss his babies goodnight. He certainly wasn’t Julian. She began to look around the train. Every man on board became a possible escort. The handsome, suited guy reading his Kindle; he could be a secret escort, she thought. She smiled at him, but he didn’t look up.

  The guy toward the back of the carriage looked delicious. His smart black crombie accentuated his tall, slim physique. She followed the line of his coat all the way up to its thick collar beneath his five o’clock shadow. He looked very Julian-like. He caught her eye and Eva quickly darted her gaze to the ground. Her cheeks blushed to the point of burning. She had taken the same route home from work for the past month and never once before analysed its passengers. Tonight, however, they were all up for her perusal. She was lonely, and she needed satisfying. She would appraise any man who passed her until she found someone who she was happy to fantasise about.