An Unforgotten Bet: (A Contemporary Romance) (2 page)

Rose sighs as she slams down the phone.

“Arguing with him again?” her friend Gina says as she picks up an order of steak and fries from the counter. “How did you guess?” mumbles Rose.

“Well you’re always arguing, so I—”

“It was a rhetorical question, Gina.”

Gina rolls her eyes. “I don’t know why you’re still with him, Rose. Just leave him. It’s not like you’re married or anything.”

“But it’s not that simple, I—”

“Really, it is,” says Gina, cutting her off and waltzing across to the other side of the room to deliver a chicken pizza to a customer.

“But it’s not,” says Rose, as soon as Gina is within earshot. “We’ve been together for over three years, you can’t just throw that away.”

“And out of those three years, you’ve probably spent at least two and a half of them arguing with him,” sighs Gina. “Face it, Rose, you’re not right for each other. Clearly, he doesn’t think you’re right for each other, either.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she says, exhaling loudly and picking up a tray of milkshakes.
She’s definitely right,
she thinks to herself as she walks to a group of giggling girls and places their milkshakes down on the table.
If I’m not careful, I’ll still be in exactly the same position on twenty years — a waitress, trapped with a cheating boyfriend, always hoping that things will get better but never actually doing anything about it.
She shudders at the thought, unaware that she is being watched by the group of girls, who are now raising their eyebrows at her.

“Is everything satisfactory for you?” she asks, forcing a smile.

“Yes,” says one of the girls curtly, waving her away with a hand.

Gina smirks as Rose walks back over to the counter, rolling her eyes. “Don’t you just love this job?”

“Definitely,” mumbles Rose. “Almost as much as I love my boyfriend.”

Gina laughs out loud. “Honestly, what do you even argue about that is so important?”

“You know, the usual,” says Rose, shrugging. “Bills, expenses, cheating, his drinking problem…”

“Ah, I see.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s almost a relief to come to work every day…almost.”

“Wow, things must be bad,” says Gina. She smiles, but reaches out to put an arm around Rose. “You need to get out more.”

“I know, I know,” laughs Rose, concentrating hard to prevent herself from crying. “I really do think I love him, it’s just—”

She pauses, and at that moment the manager appears from behind the door. He doesn’t say anything, but his disapproving glare says it all.

“We should probably get back to work. How about we meet up for a coffee tomorrow? It’ll get you out of the house for a little while, and it will give us a chance to talk. Who knows, perhaps Mr. Right will be there waiting for you?” says Gina supportively.

“Don’t make me laugh,” snorts Rose. “That would take a miracle. Besides, I’m still in a relationship. I’m not looking for anyone right now. Even if I do break up with Danny, it’ll be a long time before I want to even think about dating again.”

There’s a group of men staring over at them at one of the tables, presumably waiting for their order of pizzas which are currently sitting on top of the counter.

“Sorry for your wait, I’ll bring them right over,” calls Rose. Gina begins to follow her to help, but Rose shakes her head. “I’ve got it.”

“Rather you than me,” mumbles Gina, backing away.

Rose sighs, knowing exactly what she means. These man are regulars, and they watch intently as she walks over to them with their pizzas. But their eyes aren’t focussed on the food.

“Hey, Rose,” one of them smirks, a smug grin across his face. “You’re looking as sexy as ever today.” She ignores his comment and sets down the food, making sure not to look at him. “I love that shirt,” he says, reaching out as if to touch her breasts. She jerks back immediately, shivering in disgust as his grotty fingers brush against her bare arm.

“I’ll give you a tip if you take it off,” says another one of the men, and they all burst out laughing simultaneously.

“Can I get you anything else?” Rose says politely, crossing her arms defensively as she speaks — partly to hide her breasts from their view and partly to show that she’s in no mood to put up with their shit today. One of the men makes another derogatory comment, but the rest of them are laughing too loudly for her to hear it properly. Gina looks at her sympathetically as she walks back across the restaurant floor, shaking her head.

“Men are pigs,” she says bluntly as she gets back to the counter.

“Most of them are,” agrees Gina, laughing. “But not all of them.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” huffs Rose.

“Don’t let one bad experience put you off all men,” sighs Gina. “There are plenty of good ones out there, you just have bad taste.”

“Thanks,” snorts Rose. “But Danny was a good person when I met him, he’s just got some…issues. He’s still a good person now, which is why I’m finding it so hard to leave him. I almost don’t want to.”

He’s crazy, Rose.”

“I know he is sometimes…but other times he can just be so kind, so gentle. I know he loves me.”

“
Sometimes
isn’t good enough,” says Gina with a sigh. “Rose, he
cheated
on you with three other women.”

“I know,” mumbles Rose. “I know.”

“But it’s not like it was even just one other woman. It was three, Rose. Three separate women, on three separate occasions. Hell, scratch that, who knows how many different occasions it was. It could have been hundreds, thousan—”

“Okay, Gina, I get it,” says Rose irritably. “He played me like a fool.”

“Well stop being a fool and
leave
him, then.”

Rose smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“I bet that one day you’ll run into someone and you suddenly realise how much time you wasted with Danny,” says Gina.

“You really want to bet?” she challenges.

“Yes, because I know I’m right.”

Rose laughs, shaking her head as she picks up a plate of fried rice and carries it over to one of the tables. The word ‘bet’ only ever made her think of one person: Tom.

“Get out of my way.”

Angelic eight year old Rose Evans was Michael Sawyer’s new bully victim, and he wasn’t going to quit it until he made her cry — which, to his triumph, should be any time soon. Her eyes swelled with tears as he hurled abuse at her and pushed her to the wall, and her lips quivered more and more until at last she couldn’t hold out any longer and the tears began to roll down her cheeks.

“Stop it,” she pleaded. “Why are you doing this?”

He was about to answer, but as soon as he opened his mouth he felt a hand on the back of his shoulder. He knew who it was immediately, and his grin turned sour.

“Get off her,” growled Tom, in the most intimidating tone that he could muster. His voice was undeniably feeble, but it still managed to shock Michael. Tom was about the same size as Michael—a little bit smaller, perhaps—yet much more athletic. But Michael had the advantage of being two years older — and when you are only eight years old, standing up to a ten year old is a massive feat.

“What are you going to do?” said Michael, whirling around to face Tom and squaring his shoulders. Tom did the same, but his shaking knees betrayed his fierce facade. This was all it took to convince Michael that he could take him on, and within seconds his fist met Tom’s cheek, and Tom was left writhing on the floor.

“Stop it, Michael,” yelled Rose. She ran towards them to try and help Tom stand up, but Michael knocked her to the floor with a single swipe of the arm before she could get close to him. Alas, Tom refused to be beaten — as soon as Michael had turned around he leapt up from the floor, jumped on his back, and wrapped his long arms around his neck. Michael let out a screech and tried to throw him off, but Tom held on tightly.

“Get off, Tom,” yelled Rose, scared what Michael would do to either of them when he inevitably managed to throw Tom off, but Tom wasn’t listening. He pulled his arms tighter around Michael’s neck until his face went red, and dug his nails into his shoulders. The more Michael fought, the tighter Tom clung. And then, just as Rose thought he was about to give up and let go, he bit Michael hard on the side of the neck.

“Stop it,” yowled Michael, shaking his entire body in fury to try and get rid of Tom. “I’ll leave you alone, just get off me.”

“Don’t touch Rose ever again,” said Tom. His voice was so quiet, so eerie, that it sent a chill up Rose’s spine.

“I won’t, I won’t,” yelled Michael, trying to pry Tom’s nails from his skin. “Just get off me.”

After another brief moment of hesitation, Tom let go. He was terrified of what would happen next, but his body was already aching and he knew that he wouldn’t have been able hang on for much longer. His nose was bleeding where Michael had punched him in the face, and he fought off tears when he landed on the gravel with a thud.

Rose stood motionless, waiting to see what Michael might do. At first it looked as though he might come charging straight towards her, but he didn’t. He stood still for a moment, staring at her, as if weighing up his options, and then slowly began walking towards her. She braced herself for what might happen next, squeezing her eyes tight shut and holding up her arms in front of her as if she stood any chance of protecting herself against him. But instead, Michael did something that Rose never thought he would do — he walked straight past her, and left her alone. She stared at Tom in amazement as he walked away across the yard.

“Tom,” she breathed, running over to him and throwing herself to the floor to wrap her arms around him. “You’re a hero!”
She could feel her blonde curls sticking to the blood on his face, but right now she didn’t care. Tom really was a hero. And suddenly, despite the throbbing pain in the left hand side of his face, it was all worth it.

“Don’t mention it,” he said casually, raising his free hand to stroke Rose’s hair. He couldn’t see her face, but he knew she was smiling.

“Thank you,” she said, raising her head slightly so their eyes met.

“It’s okay,” said Tom, returning her smile. “I bet he won’t bother you ever again.” He paused for a moment. “If I lose the bet, I’ll beat him up for you...again.”

“Okay,” laughed Rose, wrapping her arms around him. “It’s a deal.”

Tom was always scared that Michael would come back and get his revenge, but he never did. And after that, neither he nor Rose never saw Michael Sawyer again.

What should I wear?
Tom asks himself for the seventh time as he sifts through his wardrobe.
Smart or casual? Or smartly casual? Or perhaps casually smart?
He shakes his head. Looks like jeans and a t-shirt. After all, he should be himself, right?

He slicks back his dark brown hair and checks himself out one last time in the bathroom mirror, wincing at his pasty reflection.

It’s already four-thirty, and he’s meeting Lauryn at 5 o’clock at the coffee shop downtown. It’s quite a bit further from his house than he admitted to her, but what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her.

It’s been so long since he last went on a date, and he doesn’t want to ruin his chances before he’s even met her. He opens up his laptop and taps a quick message before he leaves:

To: Lauryn Clarke
Message:
Hi, Lauryn,

Can’t wait to meet you. I’m really looking forward to it. See you soon.

Tom. x

The car journey itself is even more nerve-wracking. He tries turning on the radio to drown out his thoughts, but they just seem to get louder above the noise.
What if she doesn’t like me? What if I disappoint her? What if she doesn’t even turn up?

His thoughts consume his mind, and by the time he arrives at 4:55pm, Tom is shaking and sweating uncontrollably. He attempts to dab himself down on a coat that he finds lying in the back seat, but there’s nothing he can do to stop his hands trembling as he gets out of his car and walks inside.

His eyes dart to every corner of the room as he opens the door.
She’s not here.

“Good evening, sir,” someone behind him says. He almost falls over trying to turn around, thinking that it might be Lauryn, but it’s not. It’s a short, stout woman with fluffy black hair, and she’s carrying a tray of empty cups. “Can I help you?”

“I’m just waiting for someone,” he mumbles. “She should be here soon.”

The woman smiles, but there is no denying the hint of pity in her eyes, as if she can somehow sense his fear of being stood up.

“That is fine. Just take a seat anywhere and call me over when you’re ready to order,” she says, smiling and then walking away into the kitchen.

Despite a few businessmen sitting with their laptops, the rest of the shop is pretty empty. Tom’s hands are still trembling as he pulls out a chair to one of the small two-seater tables in the corner and fumbles for his phone to try and pretend that he’s busy. It’s 4:58pm, she’s got to be here soon.