In the bar, I serve tables, trying to dodge around the groping hands of louts who think that I am on the menu. I slapped one once, and it almost lost me my job. “Hey, Pete was just fooling around…” was the attitude of my boss, Ben.

Take orders, serve tables, clear tables, load dishwasher, clean tables…. it goes on and on…

I am cleaning stinking grease off a counter. Figures move close, to occupy a table. “I’ll just be a moment,” I say. “Nearly done here.” I pull out my pad and pencil. “What can I get you?”

“Two coffees, please.” says a familiar voice. I startle, looking up to see Michael and James.

“Mind if we sit here?” asks James.

“It’s a public place, and it’s not my bar….”

I am interrupted by Ben. “Hey, Jenny, table four needs serving too.”

“Yes, boss,” I say wearily.

Both men look shocked. “Jenny?” asks Michael.

Hands on hips, I stare at them. “’Jennifer’ is what it says on my passport. ‘Charlotte’ is a fantasy, remember? She always was.”

I turn on my heel, and ask Samantha to serve them instead, while I go deal with table four.

*****

Shift over, I return to the flat, collapsing onto my bed. I should read a textbook I’m working on, but I want to sleep.

Still fully clothed, I drop onto the blankets, and pull the duvet over myself, trying to ignore the smell of mushrooms that clothes everything in here. Barely have I closed my eyes, when there is a knock at the door.

For a moment, I simply stare at the ceiling. I know who is on the other side of the door. Perhaps if I ignore it, stay quiet, they will go away.

Michael’s voice: “Charlotte, Jenny, whatever you’re calling yourself; open up. We know you’re in there.”

I get up and open the door. “You followed me? What are you now? My stalkers?”

Michael looks angry, James upset. Both push past me into the miserable room.

“You’re living here?” demands James. “In an area like this?”

“And working in that dump of a café,” says Michael. “Why?”

“A girl’s gotta eat and pay rent, and to do that, she has to work.” I snap.

“In this miserable place?” demands James. “What happened to the money you had? And the money I sent you?”

“The money I had, I still have, because I am going to need it to fund the next year or so. And I don’t know anything about any money that you sent me.”

“I paid it to your bank, to see you alright.” He sees my blank look. “You haven’t checked your account recently?”

“No need. I’m living on my earnings. And if you sent money, I’ll damn well send it back. I am not available for purchase!”

Michael is silent.copy right hot novel pub