Just Business

Chapter One: Marcia

The pub smelt of cigarettes and piss, both of which must have been baked into the carpet, seeing as nobody else was there. Ally was ordering three overpriced ciders from the elderly barman, her words loud enough to reach Marcia as he cupped his hand around his ear. Ivy was late, but due to walk through the door at any moment. Everything was normal. Everything was fine.

Except it wasn't.

Marcia twirled a lock of hair in her fingers, twisting it tighter and tighter until it was cutting off her blood flow, pale finger turning cherry red. Then she released, and started over.

She had debated not telling her friends. It would have been easier to keep it a secret in some ways. She hated to think of them stressed or worried, especially about something as trivial as her. But, in a selfish way, she needed to tell someone, anyone. The pressure of it all was burning her inside out, until she felt like she was fanning the flames of her own demise with each exhale.

The door banged open, pulling Marcia from her fretting. Ivy swanned in, a man following tight at her heels.

"Sorry, doll," Ivy was saying, "This is a girls night. No smelly boys allowed."
"Do I not even get a kiss goodbye?"

Ivy swivelled, inspecting the man. Marcia took the opportunity to do the same. He was tall and well built: wide in a way that told of real labour, not just gym and diets. His skin was a deep tan, the dusting of dirt signalling him as one of the many local farm workers. But despite all this, Marcia was sure that under Ivy's penetrating stare, he couldn't have felt more than two inches tall.

"Please?" he asked, sheepish. She considered for another moment, and the man appeared close to exploding.

"Since you asked so nicely."

He needed no more encouragement. He pulled Ivy into a kiss that should have been accompanied by fireworks and string quartets, not flickering LEDs and tinny 80s hits. Marcia winced, looking away. She couldn't stand to see their oh-so-pretty faces smushed together, somehow still attractive.

Ally put a drink in front of Marcia, rolling her eyes in solidarity. Although for different reasons, Ally shared Marcia's distaste for PDA. But where Marcia disliked being reminded what she was incapable of getting for herself, Ally was against PDA because she felt relationships should be more private. Lyon, Ally's own boyfriend, knew to do little more than peck Ally in public, lest she panic that people were watching them.

"Which one's this?" Ally asked. "Martin?"

"Nope. Martin went two weeks ago. Ivy said he pronounced coffee like cafe and wouldn't shut up about a year abroad in paris. That one's Richard."
"Richard Alson?"

There were only a handful of Richards in their small hometown of Challyton, and the rest were either above fifty or below five.

"Yup," Marcia confirmed.

"Which makes him . . ."

"Donnie's cousin, yeah."

Ally bit her lip, appraising the situation again with this fresh information.

"Does Donnie know they're hooking up?"

"Maybe? I don't know, I've not seen him since Charlie and Mary's wedding. And I've not spoken to him properly since he and Ivy broke up."
"That was six years ago, do you think he would still care?"

"I don't know," Marcia said. She really didn't, but they seemed to spend a lot of time talking about it.

"That can't be good," Ally said.

"It's not great," Marcia agreed.

"Is she in the space to hear that it's maybe not a good idea?"

"Oh, not in the slightest. . . Maybe in a few drinks . . . Look now."