The Shop Girl

Two

New Job?

As chance would have it, I was to meet Ginny Weasley again, but that was not for another four months. Four months of boredom, spending each day hanging clothes on railings and standing behind a counter.

'You should get out while you still can,' Malcom told me one lunch break as I sat in Burger King, munching on some fries and sipping a vanilla milkshake.

'And go where?' I asked him, looking up into his brown eyes. It seemed that Malcom was the only friend I had left. Perhaps it was because he knew how I felt, he too was stuck in a shitty job, barley scrapping by with enough money to survive.

'Start writing again Bex,' he encouraged. 'Your stuff is amazing.'

I narrowed my eyes. 'You know why I stopped Malcom.' My voice was hard, warning him to drop the subject. My writing was a forbidden topic, which may sound a bit sad, but I preferred it that way. It didn't help me forget or anything, but it did mean that I didn't always have to think about it. About the reason I had to stop...

'Okay, I'm sorry,' he said, sighing and taking a sip of his coke. 'You could always get a different job. How about Top Shop?'

'Great, another clothes shop.' I rolled my eyes.

'At least you'd be dealing with normal customers. I don't like you working in that shop, the amount of married guys who try and chat you up...' he trailed off angrily. I'm not completely stupid, I know Malcom has a thing for me, a rather large thing if I'm honest, but he's not what I want, and he know's it.

'They're doing it a lot less recently,' I said truthfully. The customers I'd been getting in the past month or so seemed to be much more decent, paying me and then leaving without so much as a smile. Sure, I still got the occasional jerk, but that's to be expected.

'Still,' he said, as if that made his point. For a moment we sat in silence, Malcom seemed to be deep in thought, whilst I munched away hungrily on my fries. 'I could have a word with Greg,' he said finally. I looked up at him in surprise. Greg was Malcom's older brother. It was because of Greg that I met Malcom. See, back in the days when I was still happy and lively (I can't belive that was only two years ago!) I dated Greg for a while. Our relationship had been getting pretty serious, but then... stuff had happened and we broke up. We hadn't seen each other since.

'You hate Greg,' I reminded him. Malcom had never forgiven his brother for breaking my heart.

'Yes, but he's my brother and he cares about you.' I resisted the urge to laugh. I couldn't see Greg still caring about me. He dated young models now, his models. See, Greg is a fashion photographer, a good one at that.

'Malcom, I don't want to be one of Greg's little models,' I sighed, getting ready to stand up. If anything, I'd rather be one of Greg's models than return to work, but I wasn't going to admit that to Malcom.

'Rebekah, please,' he sounded desperate. 'You're gorgeous, Greg knows that. You can earn enough to live on if you model for him.'

I sighed and pulled my coat on.

'I'll think about it,' I promised.

Turns out I did more than think about it. Three weeks later, with the help of Malcom, I had an interview with Greg. I was nervous the entire week before. Not because of the interview, that was fine. I was nervous because it meant seeing Greg again, and we hadn't parted on the best of terms. I couldn't help thinking back to what Malcom told me though, about him still caring for me. Was it true?

I tried not to think too much on it as I got ready the morning of my interview. Upon Malcom's instructions, I left my hair down, but added subtle waves to it – apparently it looks better like that. I put a bit of light make up on, but mainly left my skin natural. It was clothing that really stumped me. I had a whole wardrobe full of the type of clothes I knew I should wear, but part of me didn't want to wear them. The thought of wearing a cute skirt and sexy top didn't appeal to me any more. Instead I finally settled for a fitted knee length purple skirt and a cute white top, knowing that Greg would be annoyed that I wasn't showing more leg.

An hour later I found myself sitting uncomfortably in a large and bright reception waiting for the receptionist to call my name. She had looked at me in distaste when I had first entered the building, and had done all she could to ignore me at first. It was when I lost my temper and shouted at her that I had an appointment that she finally told me to take a seat and wait to be called into Mr. Stevens office.

There were a lot of different offices, I noticed. I spotted Greg's one instantly, it was next to one closer to me labled Dudley Dursley, family portraits.

I flicked through a magazine while I waited, my long hair falling over my face, casting a curtain so that the receptionist couldn't sit there glaring at me. I briefly wondered what her problem was, but decided not to let it bother me, after all, I doubted I'd be seeing her again. I couldn't see myself returning to this place.

'Miss Lewis,' the blonde receptionist finally called, what seemed like an hour later. 'Mr Stevens ready for you now.' I nodded and, with a filthy glare at the blonde, made my way to the office clearly marked Greg Stevens, fashion photographer.

'Ah, Rebekah,' a familiar voice said as I entered his office. I looked up into the smiling face of Greg. It had been so long sine I had stared into his hazel eyes that I had almost forgotten how the green and brown twined together almost fiercely, making a fantastic blend of them both.

'Greg,' I said curtly, nodding my head. He smirked and my formality and indicated for me to sit opposite him.

'Looking as gorgeous as ever, I see,' he nodded approvingly at my appearance. Perhaps I was wrong to think that he was still the same Greg, wanting me to wear as short a skirt as possible?

'Thank you,' I mumbled.

'Malcom tells me that you're looking for a new job?'

'That's why I'm hear,' I said coldly, I wasn't about to play his games. He seemed un fazed by my coldness, and laughed.

'I see you haven't changed much. Lydia, the receptionist, told me you almost bit her head off earlier.' I smirked at the memory. The blonde had looked quite startled when I had lost my rag with her.

'She shouldn't have ignored me then,' I shrugged. I let my self take in my surroundings. Greg had done well for himself, I'll give him that. The office was large and decorated modernly, with large windows and white walls. Several of his photo's hung up on canvass around the room; woman in lingerie and skimpy dresses with wild hair and a ton of make up.

'Impressed?' he asked, catching my gazing at his work.

'The photo's are good, the models look cheap,' I said dryly, just to insult him. His smile didn't falter.

'Well, you'd better get used to it if you want to model for me, sweetheart.' I didn't like the way he was looking at me. I knew that look, and I didn't like it.

'What else should I get used to, sweetheart?' I asked coldly, looking pointedly at him. 'How many of your models do you sleep with?'

'Come come, Rebekah, I don't force any of my girls to do anything.' His eyes narrowed slightly, I knew that I was hitting a nerve. I'm sure he liked to be portrayed as the decent business man.

I don't know why I let Malcom talk me into this. I wasn't who I used to be. I wanted to keep away from men like this, not walk eagerly up to them and throw myself at them. I wanted a job where I didn't run a risk of anything more than the occasional flirting of an idiot, if even that.

'You know what Greg, I wouldn't take your job even if there was nothing else in the world for me to consider.' He looked as if I had slapped him as I stood and left the office without a glance back. I was so pissed off as I left the office that I did not notice the couple I was walking towards until I smashed into them.

'S-sorry,' I apologised, glancing into the kind face of a man with unruly black hair and startling green eyes behind glasses.

'No problem,' he grinned. I took in the girl by his side and found myself foolishly saying,

'I know you!' The girl looked startled at my outburst. Obviously she had not expected a complete stranger to burst out with that. She smiled at me with a look of bewilderment across her face. 'S-sorry,' I found myself mumbling. 'It's just I'm good with faces. You can into the shop I work in a while back, looking for a black dress,' I reminded her, feeling like a complete prat.

'Ah, so you're the one who sold her that amazing dress,' the black haired man said. I was a bit surprised about the comment 'amazing dress,' after all it had been simple, albeit pretty, and if memory stands correctly it was to be worn at a memorial.

'I remember,' the girl said with a smile. 'The dress Fred would have loved,' she said, more to herself and the man beside her than to me.

'Well, um.' I suddenly felt like a complete idiot. 'Have a nice day,' I said to the couple before hurrying away. I hadn't got far when the girl cried out.

'Wait!' I froze to the spot. Surly she didn't think I had stolen anything from her did she? That would be just my luck. I spun around to see her mutter something to the black haired man who nodded and kissed her on the cheek before heading, without her, to the office labled Dudley Dursley.

'My name's Ginny Weasley,' the girl introduced when she reached my side. I was stunned at her friendliness, but smiled back at her.

'Rebekah Lewis,' I informed her.

'Well Rebekah, this is going to sound odd, but would you like to go to lunch with me? My treat? You look like you need a good meal.' Instead of being offended by the obvious meaning behind her words – it was true after all, that I couldn't afford much food at the minute – I found myself flattered that she was being so kind.

'Are you sure?' I asked worriedly. She smiled and nodded.

'Don't take this the wrong way, but you look like you need a good chat with another girl.' She was right. I laughed slightly and followed her from the building.