Page 12 of The Wedding Pact
‘Well, luckily you work in law, maybe you could sue your ghost. I, on the other hand, have chronic bed-bugs and the only way to get rid of them once and for all is to move out, otherwise they might eat me to death.’ She shrugged at the unavoidable nature of these surely made-up bed-bugs.
‘That’s a big shame for you, but if you have bed-bugs you could bring them onto Elizabeth Street and then be exiled. I think you should stay away. However, I’m not so lucky. I’m pretty sure my hotel is a front for a criminal underworld.’
‘Oh, really, what a shame.’
Flynn nodded. ‘And they’re trying to recruit me because of, you know, my sharp suits, and whatever.’
‘It’s nice to have extra income … ’
‘I just don’t look good in trilbies.’
She laughed. ‘Is that what you think criminals wear?’
‘I’m pretty sure I’ve seen pictures of James Cagney in one.’
‘What a modern reference. But look,’ August sighed. ‘A criminal underworld is one thing, but I need to move out of my current flat because it doubles as a porn studio. It’s very hard to keep the place clean, Flynn.’
His face went mock-serious. ‘Maybe Ishouldmove in … ’ August gave his arm a slap and he laughed, and they stood in silence for a few moments before he added. ‘It would be some really nasty porn with all those bed-bugs.’
August checked her watch as another person went into the building. ‘It’s started, and I keep seeing people go in. Look, I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but I have a history with this place, and like I told you, it was my grandmother’s dying wish that I lived here. Not you,me.’
‘It sounded more like a pep talk for you, than a dying wish for her. And didn’t she say that to you when you were a child?’
‘Yes, but, we’re all dying Flynn, all the time, so even back then it still technically counts as a dying wish.’
‘As sobering a message as that is, I can’t give upmy new homeon a technicality, sorry.’ Flynn started to make his way towards the door, while August scurried beside him.
‘I’m glad I spilt coffee on you now,’ she hissed.
At the bottom step they looked at each for one moment longer, August with her chin tilted in subtle defiance, Flynn with a glint in his eye.
‘I guess this is it,’ Flynn said. ‘Time to find out which one of us is going to be moving in.’
‘Time for you to go on back to that hotel and keep looking, because I am witty and charming and having that house.’
‘Is that so?’
‘That is so.’
‘I can be pretty charming myself, you know,’ he said.
But August appeared ready for battle; like she’d been ready for this since she was six years old. ‘Let the games begin.’
Chapter 9
August
They stood at the door of the house together. August had had it all planned out, from the smile she was going to dazzle the owner with, to a perfect handful of compliments to scatter between the front door and the door of the flat. No matter what the inside was like, and no matter who was showing them around, they were a perfectly curated collection of not-too-needy, gracious accolades.
This was it. The door that was going to open up all her dreams. The life she’d imagined for herself, the person she wanted to be, who she’d always thought shewouldbe, the goals and visions that had been reignited inside her were one door away.
August stepped up and rang the bell.Hello, future.
She leaned forward slightly; mouth already open to impart her wonderful opener. The door swung open and she hesitated for a millisecond at the sight of an attractive man in his late thirties, all tensed jawline and brooding eyes, a light tan to his skin that gave a hint that there was more to him than the businessman façade that the world was seeing in this moment. That hesitation proved fatal, as Flynn swept in and bellowed, ‘Hello! I’m Flynn, I’m ready to move in and let you get back to your Sunday,’ diverting the man’s attention upwards.
She was going to kill Flynn. And then move into her new flat.
August wracked her brains for something to say, because her sparkling opener, which wasn’t far off what Flynn had exclaimed, now seemed like it would fall flat. She tried to pull inspiration from the improv classes she’d taken when she’d first moved to London, but the best she could come up with was declaring ‘August!’ rather loudly, followed by, ‘That’s me. I’m August.’
