The Girl Next Door
"How was the move?" Meg asked the next morning, stopping by Christine's desk.
"It was fine. I've still got a few things to unpack and I'll have to do a proper clean but it's starting to feel like home." Christine said, slipping an envelope into her out tray.
"Call if you need any help."
"Shall do." Christine smiled before turning back to her computer screen.
She enjoyed her job. She worked for an advertising agency and was mostly involved with creating mock-up posters and advertisements. An enjoyable, if challenging job. It was a relatively small company, perhaps eighty people altogether, but they were steadily rising. The name of 'Populaire Advertising' was becoming a well-known one.
Christine was currently working on a poster for a new book that was about to be released. There was something not quite right about the position of the text. She tapped her front teeth with a biro, staring hard at the screen. She tried it in a new place, but that made it look worse.
"You OK, Christine?" Sorelli, a co-worker asked, as she passed on her way to the printer.
"What's wrong with this poster?" Christine said, turning the screen. Sorelli looked at it.
"It looks great."
"The main text isn't working." Christine complained, peering at it again. Meg paused as she walked past with a cup of coffee.
"It's too big. It's drawing too much attention anyway from the image." She said, brushing a strand of blonde hair back from her face. Christine looked at the screen and shrank the text. Sorelli and Meg both grinned.
"Much better."
Christine printed the rough copy up to send to her boss and looked at the clock. Five minutes until she could clear off home. She'd just have time to clear everything up and drop the mock-up in to Firmin's office.
She knocked on Firmin's door and he called for her to enter.
"Ah, Christine. What have you got for me?"
"A mock-up of the new Piangi novel."
"Excellent." He eyed the piece. "Leave it there. You can go home and finish unpacking."
"Thanks Mr Firmin. And thanks for helping me find somewhere."
"Oh, it's nothing. André's an old friend and when I told him that my best worker was looking for a place he rose to the occasion." Christine smiled.
"Don't tell Sorelli that, she's still convinced that she's your favourite!"
"Have a good weekend." He said, picking up the telephone as it began to ring shrilly.
A couple more hours of solid cleaning and her work was done. Feeling like a victorious warrior surveying a battlefield, Christine grinned at her handiwork.
The apartment consisted of five generously sized rooms. A living room, a kitchen-cum-dining area, a bedroom, a bathroom and a room that Christine had turned into an office. The living room, where she stood now, was a rather bland room in beige. A few framed paintings had soon broken up the dullness of the colour. The floor was varnished wood, a couple of rugs added for warmth and she had a suite of two armchairs and a sofa in dark blue. A glass and steel coffee table scattered with coasters and a radio/CD player stood in the centre of the room and in the corner, by the faux fireplace, was a television set. A few framed photographs were set out about the room, adding a touch of homeliness about the room. There was also a large space beside the bay windows that led to a small balcony, where she planned to put her piano, as soon as she could get it here.
Christine threw the last of the newspapers that had provided padding for the more delicate objects into the bin before putting the kettle on for tea. Whilst the water heated, Christine went to put a bag of rubbish down the chute at the end of the hallway. As she passed the door opposite hers, she glanced at it with a flash of curiosity as to its strange inhabitant.
The telephone began to ring as she poured tea.
"Hello?"
"It's Meg."
"Hi Meg." Christine said, pouring milk into her mug. "What's up?"
"I was just wondering if you wanted to do something this weekend."
"Sure. I mean, I've got a couple of things to sort out with the apartment but if you want to go somewhere tomorrow night, that'd be fine."
"Great! We could go to the Club Garnier; we haven't been in a while." Meg said, cheering up at the prospect. Christine smiled.
"That sounds good. I'll meet you at yours at about eight, OK?"
"See you then!"
Christine hung the phone up and sipped at her hot tea, before going into the living room. She caught sight of herself in the mirror over the fireplace and considered herself critically. At twenty-four years, she had an air of solemnity about her that she despised. It was as though her past was clinging to her despite her efforts to leave it behind. Still, she thought, she didn't look bad. Her hair was thick and curly, a rich dark brown in colour and fell to midway between her shoulders and elbows. Of course, in a time when straight hair was the height of fashion, this didn't help her. Her eyes were dark brown too and set in a pale face. She hated being so pale, she thought that it made her look gaunt and unhealthy, but Meg always said that she had English Rose skin. She wasn't… unattractive, Christine decided. But she was ordinary; you couldn't have parted her from a crowd. She was an ordinary woman with an ordinary job in an ordinary apartment with an ordinary life.
Read – dull.
Christine sighed and sat down, switching the television on. The news was starting and she half-listened as she noted down some ideas for her next work assignment.
"In local news, the police are looking for a man who is suspected of attacking several women. The man, who is described as a white, approximately 5 foot ten and with dark hair and beard, has attempted to rape two women and has robbed a third." The newsreader announced. Christine glanced at the screen, making a note to take her pepper spray out with her.
Her computer arrived the next morning. The delivery man was extremely rude and moaned about having to take the computer up five floors. Eventually Christine snapped,
"Just go, I'll do it myself!"
He was gone before she had a chance to blink. Christine ground her teeth and looked at the three heavy boxes. One by one she moved them over to the elevator. As she lifted the third, her eye was caught by the intercom system. She searched for apartment 5a. The name of its inhabitant was written next to it.
Mr E. Destler.
"Well, hi there Mr Destler." Christine mumbled, carrying the last box to the elevator doors. She opened it and quickly pulled everything inside.
Getting it all into the apartment was easy enough, although her arms were aching by the time she had finished. She put it together as quickly as she could, checked to make sure it worked and looked at her watch. Damn! Was that really the time? She only had an hour before she had to be at Meg's!
Christine dashed to her bedroom and looked quickly through the wardrobe for something that wasn't wrinkled. A red off the shoulder shirt, great. And dark jeans, that would be fine. A pair of heels, Christine hastily applied some make-up and checked the mirror. Better tie her hair back she didn't have time to do anything with it now.
Well… at least she was presentable. She applied some dark red lipstick, sprayed some scent on, grabbed a bag and jacket and made hastily for the door. Just as she was closing it, the door opposite opened and her masked neighbour appeared, carrying a bag of rubbish, apparently headed for the chute at the end of the hallway. He blinked at her in surprise.
"Hi Mr Destler. Have a nice evening." Christine said brightly, with a charming smile as she dashed to the elevator. He merely nodded, seemingly bemused. As the elevator doors closed, he shook his head.
Odd girl…
"Hey Christine! Make yourself at home!" Meg said, answering the door, still wrapped in a towel and dripping water over the carpet. Christine stared at her in disbelief.
"I'm so sorry I rushed over her, thinking I'd be late and you'd be waiting." She said, annoyed. Meg grinned.
"Aw, thanks sweetie, but you shouldn't have bothered. You know what I'm like!"
She disappeared and Christine collapsed onto the sofa. Tiggsy, Meg's tabby cat, wandered in. Christine rubbed her fingers together and the cat leapt onto her lap. Christine stroked her soft, stripy fur and sighed heavily. Twenty minutes later Meg appeared, looking gorgeous in a short black skirt and pink top.
"How do I look?"
"Stunning, as always. Can we skip the ego-feed and go?"
"But my ego will deflate and I can't have that! We need some serious gorgeousness tonight to get the guys running for us." Meg winked. Christine rolled her eyes.
"Meg, I am seriously not looking for guys."
"In which case, can I have yours?"
Christine couldn't help laughing as they went to the door.
Club Garnier was a single floor, divided into three rooms. One was the dance room, with loud music and a busy bar. The second room was a bar, usually with live entertainment and the third room was more like a lounge than anything else, quiet music playing and comfy chairs all around.
Christine and Meg paid to get in and went to the bar room.
"What do you want? I'll get the first round." Christine asked.
"Oh, get me a G and T, would you? I'll grab us some chairs." Meg said. Christine went to the bar, waiting behind a couple of men who were taking their time. Eventually she reached the bar and said,
"A gin and tonic and a Baileys on ice, please." Whilst the bartender fetched her drinks, Christine leant on the bar, looking around. There were two guys sat at the end of the bar, watching her. She caught the eye of one and then turned away as her drinks arrived.
"I saw that, Christine Daae!" Meg hissed in her ear. Christine jumped what felt like half a mile into the air and glared at her, picking up the drinks.
"Saw what?"
"You looking at those guys!"
"Dear god, did I just look at someone? In a crowded bar? I actually looked at another human being?" Christine gasped sarcastically. Meg snatched her drink.
"You should have smiled or something!"
"Meg, I already told you. I am not planning to meet someone. I've had enough guy problems to last me for years."
Meg rolled her eyes.
"Come on. I've got us some good seats." These good seats turned out to be opposite the men's toilets, where they could see every man who went in and out. Christine had to admit, it was funny to give marks out of ten.
"Oh, fly's undone. One point."
"That guy was in there for fifteen minutes, what the hell was he doing? Three points max."
"Can we sit here?" They looked up and saw the two men who had been watching them at the bar. Meg smiled saucily.
"Help yourselves." They sat down around the little round table. One guy, with dark blonde hair that was spiked up and brown eyes, smiled.
"Hi. I'm Stuart and this is Matt." Matt had brown hair and blue eyes and was looking at Meg, with a little smile which she returned. Christine felt distinctly uncomfortable and sipped at her Baileys. Within a few minutes the other three were laughing and joking. Christine listened in amusement and Stuart looked at her.
"What do you do, Christine?"
"I'm in advertising. Populaire Advertising." Christine said. Meg cut in.
"Christine is on the team that's advertising the new Piangi novel!"
"You are? No way, I love his books!" Stuart said excitedly. "Have you ever met him?"
Christine smiled.
"A couple of times. I had to check that he liked the work. He's nice, a little weird, but he was very polite."
"Oh my god, I love this song!" Meg said as a new song began.
"Want to dance?" Matt asked eagerly.
"Sure! Christine, watch my stuff?" She was gone before Christine had a chance to reply. Christine rolled her eyes.
"Attention span of a dead cat, that one."
"So… tell me about yourself." Stuart said, shifting to sit next to her. "What do you like to do?"
"Well… I like music. I play the piano." Christine said. "And I sing a little."
"Ever played gigs?"
"Oh, god no. I don't like to play in front of people." Christine laughed.
They chatted for over an hour before Stuart worked up the nerve to ask her,
"Christine… would you like to go out sometime? To dinner or something?"
Hello awkwardness. Christine bit her lip and looked down at her drink before meeting his eyes.
"Stuart… I… I just got out of a long relationship and I've just moved house and I'm just trying to get my life back together. I don't think that it would be a good idea for me to see someone right now."
"Oh. Oh, yeah, sure." Stuart said, looking rather awkward. He paused, looked at her and then said, "But I'm going to give you my number. Just in case you change your mind. I'm very persistent that way."
Christine smiled and took the piece of card, on which he had scrawled his number, slipping it into her purse. She checked her watch and winced.
"Urgh, I'd better go. I've got a lot of work to do tomorrow, ready for Monday."
"Are you OK by yourself?" Stuart asked. Christine smiled and nodded.
"It's a fifteen minute walk along brightly lit streets with plenty of people. I'll be fine. It was nice to meet you."
Christine wrapped her coat tightly around her. It was chilly and she tugged her bag closer to her. She turned down a side street that led to the apartment block, walking swiftly. Her breath came out in white puffs of air and a cold, white moon shone down at her. She was half-regretting Stuart's offer of company.
A footstep sounded behind her and Christine glanced over her shoulder to see a figure, clad in a thick coat, his head bowed against the cold air. She carried on her way, half-forgetting about him. Until something dug into her back. She froze.
"Hand over the bag." A rasping male voice commanded. Christine couldn't move and he prodded her harder with what she presumed was a knife or a gun. She quickly slipped the bag from her shoulder and he snatched it. Christine let out a whimper without meaning to and he quickly pushed her against the wall, her cheek grazing the bricks. He held her there and she felt a hand going through her pockets.
The pepper spray! It was in the pocket of her jeans. Her hands were squashed against her front and she slid one down. He didn't notice, he was so busy rifling through her things. She pulled out the little tube and flipped the lid. And then she elbowed him quickly in the gut. He grunted and she spun around, aiming the spray at his face. The substance hit him full in the face and he howled in agony. Christine grabbed her bag from his hand and cried out as his flailing hand caught her face, the knife still clutched in it. Blood dripped down but she didn't even notice as she began to run down the road.
She heard thudding footsteps coming after her and looked back to see the man stumbling after her. She cried out. She was only a few houses form the apartment block, she could still make it! Christine stumbled to the door and tapped in the code. Her attacker, so disorientated and pained by the pepper spray fell after her but she slammed the door shut, the mechanical lock preventing him from chasing her.
He noticed the CCTV cameras surrounding the door, swore and ran off. Christine went numbly to the elevator and pressed the fifth button. She was trembling so hard that her teeth were chattering. The doors opened and she went into the corridor. She pulled out her keys and tried to put one into the lock but she was shaking so much that the key slipped from her fingers. Christine dropped to her knees and tried to grasp the key but finally noticed the river of blood soaking into her shirt and trickling down her arm.
She let out a sob as what had just happened hit her in its entirety. She had almost been robbed. She was injured. What if he was the same man who had raped those other women? What if he had tried to rape her? What if she hadn't had the pepper spray with her? A thousand different possibilities crossed her mind and a loud wail escaped her lips as the wall within her broke and her fear flooded her.
She buried her face in her hands, like a little child. She didn't know what to do. The door opposite her opened and she looked up in terror. But it was not the man who had attacked her. It was the masked man, what was his name? Destler. Yes, that was it.
She must look a sight, she thought. Blood smeared all over the place, her hair in complete disarray and crying like a baby. A look of distinct confusion and horror crossed his face for a moment. He knelt before her and she shuffled back without meaning to, pressing against the wall.
"I'm not going to hurt you." He said in that gorgeously deep voice. Christine swallowed hard, tears blurring her vision.
"What's your name?" He asked.
"…C-Christine." She stammered.
"My name is Erik Destler. I'm going to help you."
And he lifted her as easily as if she were a rag doll and carried her into his apartment, ignoring the blood that was staining his clean shirt.