From the Heart: A Valentine's Day Anthology Read online

  “Talk to me baby, please,” Andy’s heart thumped against his chest wall, he was certain she could hear it

  “You love me?”

  “Yes baby, so much it hurts.”

  “That’s good.” All Andy could do was nod, Yes it was good, so fucking good he was about to panic because she hadn’t said what he was so desperate to hear.

  “That’s good, because I love you too Andy.”

  Her answer had barely left her mouth before he meshed his lips onto hers, branding them and her as his own and erasing the memory of Simon’s foul touch.

  “Carly?” He asked between kisses.

  “Yeah Andy?”

  “Tomorrows the 14th February, will you be my valentine for now and always?”

  Her answering smile caused his heart to expand with joy.

  “I thought I already was.”

  Their lips met again, this time at a slower pace, each touch laced with love and emotion, each breath from the heart.

  A True Exercise in Love

  The End

  Acknowledgments

  A huge thank you to these fabulous authors for letting me be a part of this anthology MB Feeney, LJ Harris, Beverley Hollowed, Sarah Elizabeth, Laura Morgan, Kyra Lennon and to the wonder JA Heron who organised it and made it happen.

  Thank you to my street team for always supporting me and to my readers for having my back. You all rock.

  Loves and hugs

  RJ

  xx

  Jersey Girl

  By

  J A Heron

  Jersey Girl

  © Copyright 2016 J A Heron

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. All rights reserved.

  The Scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorised electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, organisations, and incidents are either products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or locale is entirely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  “Jesus Christ! Who keeps moving the world?” I’m so drunk. I’m yelling at anyone who will listen, but all the people surrounding me just ignore me. The bar is not really that busy tonight, but the music is loud. I can’t help singing at the top of my voice to the 90’s track currently playing. So I’m pretty sure that my drunken, out of tune melody falls on deaf ears. I’ve had one too many rum and cokes and I’m feeling the effects of all the alcohol swimming through my veins. I’m sure I look a complete mess, but at this moment in time, I think I look like a sexy goddess. Everyone thinks like that when they’re drunk, don’t they? I’m pretty certain that when I look in the mirror in the morning, I will be horrified by the sight before me. It’s normally what happens - I speak from experience. I can see my normally shiny black hair looking dull, and probably matted from all the drool that’s escaped due to my pissed up coma. I can also see my normally bright green eyes looking like sludge pools.

  I feel a tug on my arm. I’m pulled so hard I nearly end up on my arse. “Move your ass Kat,” Benny shouts, she’s my best friend. I’m tugged in the direction of the dance floor, and with the genre of music that’s being played in here tonight; I don’t want to disappoint her. It’s time for a drunken strut on the dance floor, my inhibitions decided not to make an appearance tonight, I am extremely thankful for that fact.

  I shake my hips sexily, but I’m positive I look like I’m wrestling with a kangaroo. “You’re my bestie, I love you,” Benny slurs in my ear after throwing her arms around my neck. She’s just as pissed up drunk as I am. “I don’t care that you’re single, no hope of a good job and living hand to mouth every day.” She has this uncanny knack does my friend Benny. She has this ability to make you feel like shit, without even realising she’s doing it. Most people would slap her across the face, but me, I’m used to my friend with her foul and unforgiving mouth. She doesn’t mean the things she says, it just happens to be verbalised wrong. “Oh shit! I’ve done it again - haven’t I?” She says with a sorrowful look. She knows that her mouth is one day going to get her into some serious trouble, I’ve told her enough times. I nod my head. “I’m sorry Kat. You know I don’t mean it, not the way that stuff comes out my mouth anyway.” I nod again. Over the years, I have come to realise that my friend suffers from verbal diarrhoea - often.

  We dance for a couple more songs, then decide it’s time for another drink. Mr Grumpy has other ideas, “you two, go home.” He says as we reach the bar. “I’m not serving any more booze to either of you, you’ve both had enough.” Mr Grumpy is my boss. When I’m not working, I’m in here spending the money I’ve earned. It’s a catch twenty two situation. I like working here, I like drinking in here, so this is the round-a-bout I find myself twirling on, most days.

  “Okay, Mr Grumpy, keep your hair on.” I scowl at him; he’s not my father, although he likes to acts like it.

  Benny pulls out her phone. I make a feeble attempt at trying to grab it out her hand. “What are you doing?” She manages to pull her arm away before I can make contact.

  “Shh,” she whispers. I notice the sly look on her face. That look tells me that she’s up to no good. “Watch,” she says, pointing discretely towards Mr Grumpy. I watch as he walks away towards the phone that hangs on the wall near the kitchen door. She hands me her phone and when I look at the display, I notice she’s called the bar. “Take it, talk to him, but you have to be someone else. Distract him.” I do as she says and watch as she darts behind the bar. She pours two shots of tequila and runs back in my direction - totally un-noticed. She can be a sneaky minx. All the while I’m putting on my best Irish accent, asking Mr Grumpy for directions to his bar. He can hear me, but not well enough over the music. He keeps asking me to repeat myself. I can’t help the little giggles that escape, when he says ‘what?’ for the hundredth time.

  We both throw back our shots and burst out laughing as we slam the shot glasses down on the bar. Mr Grumpy spins around, “you two will pay for those drinks. I mean it, no more!” He shouts, replacing the receiver. We both watch as he starts to serve customers, those who are willing to pay for their approved drinks, all the while, he’s scowling in our direction. Boss man seems to be even grumpier now. Benny and I giggle once more, knowing that we’ll be in even more trouble with him.

  “Wow. You two must be the ‘Booze Bandits’,” I hear a voice say. It’s a deep voice, masculine and sexy. I turn round so fast that my long black hair whips Benny across the face. That will serve her right for the comments she made earlier, I giggle at my own thoughts. I am struck dumb by the sight before me. He’s tall, bald, has blue eyes and I can see tattoos covering his arms. There is a faint darkening of stubble lining his jawline, making his face look sharp and defined. I wonder what that would feel like against my tongue, or other places. He looks like a cross between Bruce Willis and Vin Diesel. His voice is deep like Mr Diesel’s, but his accent is sharper. If melted chocolate could talk, that’s what it would sound like. I stare open mouthed at all the ink on his arms; my eyes follow the path up to his neck. I’m pretty sure that the ink goes further, but it’s covered up by his black cotton shirt. My eyes run down his arms again. For some reason they need to feast on the sight of that artwork once more. I notice his long shirt sleeves are rolled up to just below his elbow. Long, strong, rippling forearms greet me once more and I fi
nd myself staring at them again.

  “Mind your own business baldy,” Benny says, her tone has an icy edge. I’m wrenched out of my trance like state.

  “No need to be rude, shorty,” he says with a chuckle, he’s mocking her.

  “Shorty! Umph, I’m five-seven. Not really short, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Well, I’m six three, so to me, you are short.” I listen to the hot stranger and my BFF exchange good natured banter. All the while, I’m still eyeing up the giant, tattooed guy in front of me. I venture a look at his face. I see stubble, blue eyes that look like ocean pools and a defined bone structure. He really is gorgeous. I’m starting to feel uncomfortable because I’ve not said a word yet, I’m willing to bet he feels it too. He’s still bickering with my friend, yet he’s looking at me too. I can feel his eyes, they’re searching my face. It feels like he’s weighing me up, it feels like he’s searching my soul. Nah, I think to myself. It’s that last shot that’s done it… It’s screwed with my head. I’m so wasted. I think it’s time to go home.

  A week has passed since that drunken night in the bar. I’ve worked, I’ve slept and I’ve certainly had a few more nights in Mr Grumpy’s bar. It’s the same monotonous routine of work, alcohol and nothingness in my life. I work to live, I sleep because it’s the only thing that keeps me sane - also the excessive alcohol intake causes me to pass out into unconsciousness, and the drink drowns out the noise in my head. The life I’m living is shallow, pointless and completely despondent. I have my friends, mainly Benny. I don’t see the others much these days, they’ve all ran off, got married, had babies or all of the above. I see Benny everyday, but that’s because we live together.

  Mr Grumpy is not Benny’s biggest fan; he says that she’s a bad influence on me. I understand that he’s just looking out for me. I’m big enough and old enough to make my own decisions. I decide to work, I decide to drink and I certainly decide my own path in life.

  I really should do something about my shit life, but most days I really can’t be bothered to get out of bed on a morning. Yet, like clockwork, at 8 am, every morning our neighbour heads out to work. She makes the decision to play music so loud in her car that it wakes up the entire fucking apartment block. Every fucking morning. I’ve asked her to keep it down, but she says that she’s not breaking any law, as technically the noise isn’t in the vicinity for very long, because she soon zooms off for work. It’s the five to ten minutes she uses to warm up her car that I’m soon awake with the blaring racket of Westlife, or some other God awful boy band shit she likes to listen to. In the winter when there’s ice and snow on her windscreen, it’s probably more like twenty minutes that I have to listen to her bad taste in music while the ice thaws.

  When I’ve had a drink, I say to myself, ‘tomorrow is the day I do something with my life’, but then the morning comes, the hangover hits me like a bitch and the same old story repeats itself. That catch twenty two situation I’m in is a paradoxical statement - only I can make the change. I’m well aware of the depression, the darkness in my head and the lethargic feelings that swarm me every day. I’m certainly aware that I am the ‘master of my own destiny’, but I struggle to find the energy and inclination to take that giant step. Benny, the good friend that she is, has asked me a million times what I’d like to do. She says that there must be something in my life worth pursuing. When this conversation rears its ugly head, I just shrug and say that there isn’t. I think she’s given up trying to drag me into the world, so instead she leaves me to wallow in my own numbness. It’s become my usual routine.

  Chapter Two

  “I want those glasses spotless,” Mr Grumpy shouts. “Polish them with the glass cloth to a high shine, then put them on the shelves.” I’m already doing as he says. I think he has a touch of OCD as he insists on telling me this every shift I work, and if there is the slightest sign of a water mark he gets even grumpier. He’s already explained to me what he expects of me the first day I started here - ten fucking years ago. Has it really been that long? I’m not a goldfish; I’ve not forgotten how he likes things done. Albeit, some days I can hardly remember my own name after a session of drinking, but nonetheless, I can remember how to do this mundane job. He didn’t get his nickname by chance, he earned it.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I whisper under my breath.

  “What was that?” Oh crap, he heard me. He’s scowling at me over the top of his spectacles that are too big for his face. The fifty something man has run this bar since dinosaurs roamed the earth. The stress of running his own business has caused premature balding and greying hair. As far as I can remember, his appearance hasn’t changed in all the time I’ve known him. He’s not completely bald, but he’s close and the hair he has left is almost white. He has a beer belly, I’m sure that’s from his ‘tasting the beer, to make sure it’s not off’, mentality.

  “Yeah boss,” I say as enthusiastically as I can.

  Nothing exciting ever happens in here. During the week I don’t see many customers, but at weekends the place really livens up. Today is a weekday and it’s just as boring as any other. It’s cold outside, there was a frost this morning, which means my badly behaved neighbour was singing along to something tasteless in her car. The song and her singing made my ears bleed, I could’ve throat punched her, anything to get her to shut up. The last thing I need though is time off work, or even being sacked because of a night in the cells, charged with assault. A criminal conviction wouldn’t bode well for me; even if my hypothetical plans ever turn into something. Having a black mark against my name would certainly drive me into a never-ending pit of despair, with no hope of ever resurfacing. I really need to get a grip. There are people in this world who have absolutely nothing or no-one, I should count my blessings. “Another pint Fred?” I ask the eighty something pensioner who waddles up to the bar. He nods and I begin to pour his ale. He’s in here most days, especially when it’s pension day. He sits nursing a pint for two hours, then has four more. He sits in the corner sipping his beer, reading a newspaper and occasionally flits his eyes to the TV. He doesn’t speak to anyone, except the bar staff when ordering his beverage. I’ve never seen him smile either. Most of the staff that work here have tried at some time or another to start a conversation with him, but he just walks away, sits down at his usual table and carries on reading the daily paper. We’ve just learned to accept him, let him do his thing until he leaves around 10pm.

  BBC news is on the TV, the same news is repeated continuously throughout the day. Mr Grumpy likes to watch the news; he says that it’s important to keep abreast of current affairs. He’s got ‘Sky’, yet he watches terrestrial TV. “Please let me put MTV on,” I’m begging. It’s dead in here, Fred is the only customer. I just served him a pint, so I have another two hours to wait until he needs a refill – I’m bored rigid.

  “I’m watching the news,” Grumpy says sternly, the points at the screen for good measure. Knowing him, he’s just perving over the sexy blonde woman reading the stories from around the world, on a continuous fifteen minute loop. I’m losing my mind.

  There’s only so much cleaning you can do. I start to polish all the bottles of spirits – again, anything to alleviate the boredom. The bottles are gleaming; in fact this whole bar is cleaner than my apartment. “Bottle of water please,” I hear a deep velvety voice say. That’s funny, I didn’t hear anyone else come in. In a fraction of a second the hairs on my neck stand up, my body is covered in goose bumps and my mind conjures up the visions of Mr Vin Willis. I giggle to myself; my analogy of the two movie stars makes me smile. I turn around and there he is. The tattoos are as brilliant as ever, I can see a few more today because he’s wearing a grey marl T-shirt. The lights over the bar are reflecting the shine on his bald head and his blue eyes look darker as he stands under the artificial bulbs of light. I walk to the back of the horseshoe shaped bar and pull out a bottle of water from the fridge, then pull down a small high-ball glass.

  “Ice?” I ask him with a
sweet tone.

  “Just the bottle, no glass. Thanks.” He says politely. His manners are impeccable. He knows his please and thank you’s, so I’m certain he’s had a great upbringing. Most of the customers that come in here forget that we live in a civilised society, it’s just good conduct to remember your manners - it makes me mad when customers are rude.

  As I stand in front of him with just the thick mahogany separating us, then placing the bottle on the bar, my eyes gravitate towards his once more. He’s just as handsome as I remember from last week. His eyes stare at mine, and there’s a small hint of a grin. His lips slightly curl up, flashing me with a little glimpse of his teeth - they’re white and straight, as far as I can tell. He hands me the money, then turns to walk away. I put the money in the till and turn back around. It’s like my alter ego wants to feast her eyes on him some more, I don’t have a choice. I’m shocked when I watch him as he takes a seat next to Fred. Fred actually smiles, they both do.

  I watch as they both interact with each other. The mystery guy’s body language is open, he’s sitting in a welcoming position and I realise that he’s probably related to Fred - nephew or grandson perhaps. I’ve never seen him around here before, having worked here for a very long time. I’d certainly recognise him if he had.

  Fred and the mystery hottie are both in deep conversation; it looks intense as they converse. I keep staring at him; unable to stop myself from drinking him in. He has this conscious ability to summon my eyes towards him, to devour him. It’s been a very long time since I’ve felt any of these emotions, the emotions I feel when he’s around are hard to ignore, and they’re even harder to eradicate.