Chapter 3
The night had already fallen. A line of gas lamp hazy halos spread on her left and right as she was standing at the bus stop, having jumped off the random bus she had come on board half an hour ago. She had really no idea where exactly she was. All she knew was the bus conductor has shouted Shoreditch when she decided to get off, and that she was looking at a public house across the busy Friday night street.
Seemed like a jolly place, she thought and crossed the street. She slipped her hand in the inside pocket of her fitted tuxedo jacket and felt the folded paper.
Audrey Perkins is one crazy gal. Always on the lookout for spontaneous thrills, a treasure hunt was suggested, orchestrated and put into action in less than an hour. When things were getting boring in the Kit Kat club, the plan was hatched. The treasure hunt would involve items related to the arts. She chuckled the moment she pushed the door of the London Apprentice, the lager flavoured air, vinegar-smelling and warmed up by the body heat of the crowd inside swept her face.
Let's see whether there is a painter in here, she thought, without counting her chances of finding one but she had to try something. She excused herself as she tried to open up a path through fairly inebriated guys and gals who were having a good time. Some guys smiled at her and others examined her looks with a sparkle in their eyes. Not many girls would wear a tuxedo suit on their Friday night out. Sweat started to moisten the back of her neck, making the hair stick on her skin.
This was one of the moments, she thought what a great idea was to chop off that wild mass of blonde curls she had used to try to keep tame with all shorts of hair pins, hair bands, put in ponytails, pig tails, buns, you name it she had tried it, her hair when they were long had a mad frizzy curly mind of their own. Although now, they were cut just to fall at the small curve of her neck, that sweat had started to bother her and she wished she had worn something lighter.
Nevertheless, a quest was a quest and judging by the looks a lot of men were giving her right there, she thought wise not to stay for too long in London Apprentice. Sounds of laughter, talk and music all at the same time were filling the pub like the constant bubbling of water boiling in a pot. She managed to reach the bar, looking all flustered, face glowing with a mist of sweat, stood at the tips of her shoes and shouted to the bartender for half a pint of lager. While waiting she took the jacket off and lit a cigarette. She was thankful when the bartender appeared with the glass of lager because her throat was quite dry. Aware that time was ticking, she gulped the lager down, had a few puffs of her cigarette and stomped it off in the ashtray that lay on the bar bench. With the corner of her eye she noticed a guy on her right, staring at her. She didn't spend too much thought on him, despite being almost certain his stare looked quite amused with what he was seeing.
It was time for action. There was no way in hell she could find a painter just by sipping her beer. The big iron pub bell for last orders was hanging just by her side. Took a deep breath, reached up and hit it with all her strength. It was a little bit unnerving to look back at a crowd where every pair of eyes has turned at you thinking why the heck this broad hit that bell for. Is she unhinged or something?
Before everyone started to form a clear opinion and before management had time to throw her out, she shouted with a clear voice:
"Any painter in the house? Looking for a painter."
The brief silence after her question was even more deafening than the noise before. It only lasted for a few seconds, enough to make her heartbeat shoot up and she bit her bottom lip by reflex.
"Hey lass, I'll show you a painter", one punter shouted and a raucous roar of a laughter spread in the pub.
"I'll paint you all over", another followed and a second wave of unrestrained laughter spread even louder than the first. Several wolf whistles were heard.
What a dumbdora Candy!
You can't get any stupider
She continued her internal scolding, and laughed at herself, joining the others.
"Aren't I the clever one?", she shouted and pulled her tongue out, acting cute.
"My apologies gents...and ladies", she continued while she put her jacket back on.
Just ignore everyone and walk to the door like nothing happened
She kept her mind preoccupied with her thoughts of advice, trying to calm herself down and started making her way out.
"Enjoy your Friday chaps", she turned and said out loud and gave them one last dazzling smile.
"Wher' ye'r goin' doll?", she heard another gruff voice shouting.
She chose to ignore whoever else was taking the mickey out of her, pushed the door and went out on the pavement. The cool air was welcomed on her hot face.
Great plan Candy, she thought to herself.
The street had quietened down. She started walking while trying to hatch a plan for that treasure hunt which proved more challenging than she thought. Perhaps she could just go home, curl up with a drink and a book, but she wasn't one to give up on the first hurdle.
She stopped when she realised she was hearing echoes of her footsteps. She was followed. Turned and came face to face with two hoodlums, looking as rough as they could get. Alcohol steaming from every pore of their bodies. They looked at her with eyes lost at the bottom of their multiple pints.
The chattier one, rubbed his tattooed ring clad hands together, as if he was going to have his favourite dinner.
"Care for a painter are you miss?", he said slurring his words, lust flashing in his stare, while he wetted his lips.
The second moved closer. Touched her hair.
"She ain't gonna want you", he looked at her, his face almost falling on hers, smelling foul.
Candy's stomach turned.
"Get off me", she yelled. She pushed him away but he was stronger than her. Grabbed by her waist, lost his step and they twisted on the pavement.
"Leave the woman alone!"
Candy heard behind her a smooth strong voice and thanked her lucky stars. The thug who held her, turned with her in his arms.
She connected the voice to the face. He was the guy who had caught his stare in the pub.
A blade gleamed in the hand of the other hoodlum. He launched forward towards the man who swerved just in time and grabbed his wrist. Tightened his grip, until he yelled in pain, leaving the blade to fall. The man crouched to pick it up, leaving the thug to flee in panic.
It was the turn of the second one who had tightened his hold on Candy as she squirmed, attempting to get away.
"Let her and you can go", the man said and fixed his eyes straight on the face of Candy's captor.
"Or else?", the guy mocked him.
Without any second to spare, the blade left the man's hand in one lightning move. The thug screamed in pain. The blade had landed on his right foot. His hands fell from Candy's waist. She made a run towards the man.
"Thank you", she managed to say.
"Walk", he ordered her and grabbed her hand to cross the street with hurried steps leaving behind the creep cursing, yelling, threatening he would kill him. But for now, he wasn't going to go anywhere apart from the closest hospital.
A bus was coming. "Jump on", a second order followed.
He sat next to her on the bus, catching their breath. Her fragrance of vanilla and leather was intoxicating. He turned and looked at her.
"Love, I'd say you are off your rocker but you're a Yank", he said with a constraint voice.
There was no doubt about the anger in his voice. In any case, she answered back, and did not care whether this guy, not matter how gorgeous he was, was going to scold her or laugh on her face. She had enough turmoil for one night.
"You are having me on, right?", she raised her voice back to him.
"A Yank?!", she repeated.
"Really?!"
"What does being a Yank has anything to do with my actions?"
"I'm proud to be a Yank, I'll have you know"
Her tirade carried the utmost certainty and pride, so much so she was just about to put her hand to her heart the moment she finished her angry monologue.
He had not tried to say a thing while she kept going, letting her release all the tension from what happened outside the pub.
"And ignorant, you may add", he said in the end.
She widened her eyes. She could not believe this guy. Judging her reaction, he understood, she really had no clue.
"Did you have any idea where you were?", he asked her.
"What do you mean?", she replied.
His question made her wonder. Had she just done a huge gaffe by jumping out of the bus without thinking twice? Where exactly was she?
"Shoreditch?", she gave a reluctant reply.
His eyes mellowed.
"East End London"
She looked puzzled. But it was too late to explain further. And she was too damn sexy in that tuxedo. Especially when angry and confused.
"Let's just say, you don't wander there, dressed in man's clothes, looking for a bloody painter"
That was the only explanation he was going to give her. But it was enough for her. She realised what he meant. She had landed herself to the wrong neighbourhood.
"What do you need the painter for...anyways?", he asked her and his grey eyes sparkled.
"Forget it...", she said. The way she had stayed in his eyes, it was the truth. She had forgotten about the painter.
Then the treasure list...She put her hand in the inside pocket of her jacket, took out the paper and gave it to him. He unfolded it, read it and looked back at her.
"I've got what you want...but you need to come with me...where I live", he said with a teasing tone in his voice.
Her eyes widened with disbelief.
"Christian Blake", he introduced himself before she could say anything back at him.
"I am a painter", he added and his smile lit his whole face.