For Your Eyes Only: HS

27. Starting Up Trouble

I stop him, mid sentence, because what the fuck did he just tell me?

"Three to six weeks?!" I clarify, a little too aggressively. I mean, I don't know what I had been expecting, but that just seems like such a long time. I'm starting to feel panicky. I can't stay in that hotel for that much time. Despite the fact that it's a shit shack, I can't afford it. And I know dad won't be keen on it either. I am 19 years old after all, with a semi steady income back home. I'm supposed to be able to take care of myself by now. 

Speaking of 19 years old...

My birthday is in two weeks, so I'm basically guaranteed to be spending it alone. Fabulous. Just how I envisioned my 20th.

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Back at the shit shack. 

Who knew a place like this could be so bloody expensive. It is London after all, I guess.

I toss an old plastic cup with the remnants of red wine into the nearby rubbish bin. 

My phone has been buzzing for the past few minutes but I can't be bothered talking to anyone. It's probably dad - I told him I had my interview today. 

Just as I'm about to strip myself out of my clothes (I can't stand wearing proper clothes when I'm at home, I always have to make myself comfortable), there is a knock at the door that scares the absolute shit out of me. "Room service!" The voice behind the door shouts, and confusion has taken over my thoughts.

This is the first time out of all the nights I've stayed here, that somebody has come for room service. I'm suspicious, but despite my doubts I open the door anyway. 

Yeah...bad idea. 

"Joseph," I greet the man, somehow not surprised to see him in the slightest. He always seems to pop up at the most random times. Or the most convenient times? I'm really not sure at this point. There is just something off about him. 

"Hey Miller!" He holds out a cardboard box with some kind of fried food, and immediately I'm sold. Goddammit. Fuck me for being too obsessed with food. 

"Come in," I tell him, guiding him through and closing the door behind him. He takes a long look around the room and I can see that his nose wrinkles a bit due to the off smell. It's funny, I don't even smell anything anymore. It's like my nose is immune to it now - that's how long I've been here. "I know," I say. "It's dodgy. But it's what I've got for the moment."

"No, no! I like it...it's cosy?" He's trying to be nice, well it looks like it. "You look hungry. Let's eat these fish and chips before they get cold, shall we?"

So we do, and it's probably the best thing I've eaten in a while. Joseph and I catch up, and even though I have my persistent doubts about him, we have a good time. He's almost like the brother I never had, if that's not too excessive. 

That's way too excessive. 

After eating enough to feed a small army, I throw down my napkin. "I've got to go to the loo, I'll be back in a minute," I tell him, and he laughs in response.

"You're sounding more English by the day!" He says after me, and I can't help but laugh because it's probably true. 

But just as I sit down on the toilet, I hear him yell out again. "Miller, I'm really sorry, but I've got to get going! I've just got a really important call and it's an emergency!" His voice sounds as if it's getting closer to the front door - he really is leaving. 

"Wait--" I half yell, trying to pull my pants up but failing miserably and falling on the floor. "Fuck," I curse. That's going to bruise. 

By the time I get out of the bathroom, Joseph's gone, with no evidence of him even being here in the first place. There is one particular thing that isn't right. I'm one observant girl.