Nick's Girl

7 | the incident

Two months later.

The phone rings.
I'm brushing on some nail polish, sitting on my bed, listening to 'Light My Fire' by The Doors.
"I know that it would be untrue... I know I would be a liar..." I sing as I mooch over to the pink telephone on the dresser.
"Hell-o-o?" I chime merrily, turning the music down carefully, my red fingernails still drying. "That you, Nick?"
"Is this Miss Evalina Jones?" a high-pitched female voice responds.
I curse inaudibly, and immediately stop the record from spinning.
"Ah—ahem— Yes! This is she!" I say shrilly.
God, that was embarrassing!
"Hello, Miss Jones," the lady says, "I'm Cheryl from Pixie Beauty Incorporated —
"—Pixie Beauty?" I repeat, "as in, the makeup company?"
It's the company. Thee company!
"Yes, miss..." Cheryl responds, "I'm calling to let you know that your application to work as an intern for the company from 15th January to the 27th March has been accepted. You are now required to come in for a series of interviews with our managers."
"Thank you... I—
"—your interview will take place on December 7th, at 2:00 o'clock. Is that a suitable date? Good. The meeting will take place in our Head Quarters, 123 St James Street, Covent Gardens.  On behalf of the team at Pixie, we wish you good luck."

The phone line goes dead.

I need to tell Cassie. I call her, and Donna, and Heather, in rapid succession, barely able to string two sentences together.
Then I call Nick.
We've been seeing each other for two months now. It's official. My parents don't know, of course. Nick and I are thick as thieves, but our parents wouldn't see that if it but them on the nose.

I wait as the operator puts me through, clicking my nails on my dresser. Nick and I talk every day at 9pm on the telephone.
But he doesn't pick up.
I try again.
No answer.
Just to be sure, I check my watch; it reads 9:15.

A few minutes churn by. I feel strange and disconcerted.

Suddenly, a heavy pound sounds at the door. I jump.

"Get the door, Eva!" my mother yells from the front room, where she and my father are sitting  by the fire.
I sigh, irritated.
What if Nick tries to call and I'm at the door?!

Sluggishly I resign myself from the room, my nails still damp with red polish.

Dressed in my robe and socks, I pad down the stairs. A second impatient thud comes from behind the door.
"Alright! Keep your hair on!" I shout, as I reach the door. On the other side of the frosted glass panel, a dark figure is standing there.

I slowly unlock the door, and creek it open.

"Oh my God," I breathe, "What's happened to you?"
Nick stands on the doorstep, his lip burst and gushing with bright red blood.

"Can I come in?"

*

I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while! But here we are!
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