Pretty Boy

By Silja Evelyn

What would you do if your back was against the wall and you were running out of options?

Would you be tempted? Tempted to accept an offer that could make things a little easier. No matter what, or who, it cost?

Pretty Boy is a story of one couple's struggle to survive in a dark, unforgiving city. In a world full

• Language: English
• Publisher: Salad Pages
• Release date: Apr 3, 2020
• ISBN: 9781913067083

Silja Evelyn

Silja's writing is beautiful, impactful and moving. Silja is from Finland and learnt English from a young age. She moved to the UK when she was 19 years old to study at Anglia Ruskin University, Cambridge. She attained BA (Hons) in Film Studies. Silja currently lives in Finland and plans to return to the UK to pursue her writing career. Silja likes to write about difficult subjects and her first novel is no exception.

Book preview

One

I couldn’t get my lighter to work. It only spat out useless sparks, not enough to light my cigarette. The drizzling rain didn’t make it any easier. My hands were getting stiff from the cold, barely mobile enough to flick the lighter one more time. A little flame burst out – and died immediately. I wanted to scream, but settled for a frustrated sigh; the day had already been a nightmare. I took the cigarette out of my mouth and glared at the faint stain burnt on the paper. Maybe later.

It was freezing, even for early October. Technically it was dark, but the city lights gave the sky a rusty glow. High concrete buildings rose against the horizon, all filled with dreary offices. One of those buildings stood right beside me, casting squares of weak light on the ground. I leaned against the cold bricks, a distance away from the entrance where I could stare at the road leading to the car park. The crippling irritation and disappointment of not getting my late-night nicotine fix grew stronger with every car that drove past, instead of turning the corner.

My attention was caught by the front doors of the office block opening, and the silhouette of a man stepping out. He tried to open an umbrella whilst talking on his phone. I watched the attempt for a while. His deep, low voice echoed around the car park, but the weak wind and distance between us made it impossible to make out his words. I turned to look at the road again, hoping the faint words would disappear soon, and the stranger with them. Cars drove by one after another, but none were the one I was waiting for. The rain was only getting worse and it had already soaked through my jeans. Luckily my cigarettes stayed dry inside my jacket. Cigarettes I couldn’t smoke. The one I was still turning over in my hand was probably fucked, as I hadn’t been smart enough to put it back in the pack.

You need a light?

I turned instinctively towards the sound. The man was standing right next to me. I was too caught by surprise to fully process his question until he nodded at the cigarette in my hand.

Oh, um… Sure, yeah. Thanks.

I put the cigarette between my lips whilst he got his lighter out and stepped closer so that we were both under his large umbrella. I put my hood down, and damp strands of hair fell on my face as I leaned closer to the flame he was holding out. The cigarette wasn’t ruined, after all. I tried not to blow smoke on him, although he must have been a smoker himself. He was wearing a suit under his long coat, and he had the kind of propriety about him that you’d expect from someone who wore those clothes to work. Even his voice had that calm, stern tone of someone important. Or just a flat-out snob.

It’s a little late to still be out here.

I could’ve told him the same thing, but settled for an awkward shrug.

It’s getting quite cold, isn’t it? He went on, looking at the sky.

Yeah.

You’re waiting for someone?

Yeah, my friend’s picking me up. Well… he’s supposed to, at least. I glanced at the road in the hope that mentioning the ride would magically make it appear. It didn’t. The man gave a small nod, and his eyes wandered over to me, observing – and not very subtly. I felt the need to move farther away from him, but I stayed still.

I know you from somewhere.

Well, I’ve probably cleaned your office, I replied, without much enthusiasm. I was grateful for the light, not so much for the small talk.

No, somewhere before that.

He sounded insistent, like he already knew the answer. I looked at him, now a little troubled by the fact that I couldn’t remember ever seeing him before. He was taller than me, which made him quite a tall person, and much older. It was hard to say how much older exactly in the dark, but he had shallow wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. Middle-aged, maybe, or a bit older – which meant he was about twice my age, or more. He had plain features; none of them really stood out. Maybe that was why he hadn’t stuck with me, assuming I actually had met him before. His jaw was shaped into a soft square by a short, tidy beard, and his thick hair was combed back; I couldn’t tell what colour it was under the shadow of his umbrella. I knew where he could have easily seen me, but I couldn’t recall ever making him a coffee, so I wasn’t sure.

I also work in a café just down the road.

Of course, that must be it.

I puffed hard on my cigarette to justify being quiet for as long as possible, and ended up inhaling too deeply. I barely resisted the urge to cough. He smiled, but in that annoying, superior way; like he had been amused by my awkwardness.

You must be a student or something, then? he asked suddenly.

I glanced at him, raising my eyebrows.

Wouldn’t have time to work two jobs if I was still a student. I said, sarcastically.

He realised the contradiction and gave a nod.

Well, he exhaled, at least you’re hardworking.

I accepted the compliment with a quick smile, although I didn’t think ‘hardworking’ was the right word.

I guess you could call it that.

Well I guess you could, he repeated, smiling at my modesty. It wasn’t really the presence of the suited man that made me uncomfortable, more the fact that I had been working all day and dealing with customers for the majority of it, so I really wasn’t in the mood for a chat. I escaped the conversation for a few seconds by checking my phone, but there was nothing there. No messages. No explanation for the delay.

Just wondering… he started, then paused, as if to let me protest before I even knew what he was going to say. Whereabouts do you work in that building? he nodded towards the office he had just left. Or which floors do you clean, I mean?

I glanced in the same direction, like I needed to look at the building to be able to answer.

Um… the top ones, mainly.

Huh, that’s odd, he mumbled. I should have noticed you. The cleaners aren’t usually so…

He stopped, looking at me thoughtfully. The way he started the sentence made me curious about how he would finish it. But he just gave a dismissive smile and waved his hand.

Well, they’re usually quite invisible.

My painfully dry laughter made him clarify his respect towards the people who kept his office in order.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mean it in a bad way. All work is honourable work.

Yeah, I said, even though I hardly agreed. The work didn’t feel exactly ‘honourable’, but I didn’t expect a person like him to understand.

The conversation was interrupted by a distant sound. Finally. I recognised the car long before it got to the car park – assuming there weren’t other old classics with attention-whoring engines around. I turned to tell my companion I was leaving only to find him staring at the source of the sound, as well. Nothing much could be seen of the black car turning into the car park besides the two bright headlights with raindrops falling across them. Heavy music accompanied the revving engine, leaving no doubt it was Cris.

Your friend?

I glanced at the man and nodded. He gazed at the car with admiration.

Tell him he has a good taste in cars. What model is that?

He squinted to see better. I hesitated; I hated that question.

Uh, I have no idea.

I only knew it was a Jaguar because Cris had told me it was a Jaguar. He had told me every little detail about the car when he had restored it with his dad only a couple of years earlier, but not a single word had stuck. To me it was an old car that looked cool.

Hmm, that’s alright, he answered, leaving me to wonder if the disapproving undertone in his voice was just in my head. Good night, then. I suppose I might see you here again.

Yeah… I answered stupidly, without paying much attention to the last thing he said. It was naïve to think I’d never see him again, but at that moment I just wanted to leave, thinking the encounter would just be that one weird chat after work that one night. So, I rushed over to Cris’s car through the intensifying rain, dropping my cigarette in a puddle on the way. It wasn’t even completely finished.

Cris turned the music down when I opened the door and sat on the crimson leather seat. I then noticed how red and clumsy my hands had got in the cold; I shivered for a long while before the warmth of the car melted away the chill.

I thought you were never coming. My voice trembled, sounding awfully desperate.

I took a wrong turn twice.

So much for your dependable driving skills.

Shut up. He gave me a mean glance, then focused on the rear-view mirror as he reversed back onto the road. Who were you talking to?

I don’t know, some old guy just gave me light. Knowing Cris would be hyped, I added: He asked about your car.

Oh yeah?

Yeah, said you had good taste.

See, told you car knowledge comes in handy.

Well I didn’t know anything, so…

He shook his head.

I’m disappointed.

Well it’s not like I was trying to hit on him!

Why not? He’s probably rich.

I gave him a disgusted stare, but he just smiled at his stupid joke. He knew I wasn’t a fan of unnecessary attention, but he liked to be annoying.

And I mean, it’s not like you need to try. You just stand there and look pretty, he added in mock irritation.

Cris wasn’t pretty. He had dark eyes under even darker eyebrows, and his black hair was organised into a controlled mess with about ten different hair products. He was slightly shorter than me, but you couldn’t see it unless we stood right next to each other. And I hated standing next to him; it made me look even skinnier than I was. Cris had an excessive amount of free time, and he spent it at the gym. The slim designer jeans he wore were invented for people like him with ridiculously nice thighs. Sometimes I wondered if he ate anything other than protein shakes and egg whites.

He was also tattooed from his head to his toes. Well, from neck to toes, although he had large gaps here and there. He had the mainstream love/hate on his knuckles, but other than that all his tattoos were pretty original. He had contemplated getting a small tattoo on his face or behind his ear, but so far he had settled for jewellery; he had studs in his earlobes and a small scar from a helix he’d taken out. He said he didn’t want any more piercings, but I knew he just couldn’t stand the pain of a needle being shoved through the cartilage. He hadn’t even waited for that one helix to heal; he couldn’t have a bleeding, swollen mess anywhere near his face. It was the kind of face that had been quite plain as a kid, and then puberty had done something outrageous to it. Cris wasn’t pretty, Cris was gorgeous.

The road we were about to join was occupied by an uninterrupted line of cars, but he cut in without thinking much. I could hear the road rage in the long honk that followed. Cris glanced at the car in his mirror.

Asshole… he cursed, then changed his tone to a friendlier one. How’s it going, anyway?

Well, it would be going a lot better if you got me home in one piece.

Ha ha, you really think I’d risk scratching my car?

Well, it seems like you would.

He ignored my remark, knowing that I understood his reckless style of driving was never going to get any better.

Seriously, have you got bored of me or something? he asked.

Come on, I just stopped by… like, two… three weeks ago?

Oh shit, right, my bad. He gave me what would’ve been a much longer look if he hadn’t had to focus on the road. We slowed down to a crossroads, stopping barely in time. Raindrops rattled loudly against the windscreen, muffling the rock ballad on the radio. Cris started drumming the wheel with his fingers, clenching his teeth at the red light.

So, what have I missed out on? I asked, admitting I had been absent lately.

Well… I had one of those ‘I don’t like tattoos but I’ll get one unique one to show I’m cool’ kind of clients yesterday.

It was something really mainstream, wasn’t it?

A triangle. With a rose inside.

I frowned in disgust.

"Who the fuck gets roses?"

He slapped me on the shoulder with the back of his hand. In his defence, the dark red roses on his neck were way better than the amateur mess they were covering.

And guess where? he continued.

Where?

He pointed at his inner forearm, right below the elbow. I shook my head in disapproval, although the joke was on me now; it was where I had had my first tattoo.

It was one damn fine forearm though, he sighed. Then he raised his eyebrows like he had suddenly remembered something. Hey, you wanna go for a drink this weekend?

Um…

He knew what the answer was going to be, so he began persuading me before I could say no.

"Look, I need you to go out with me."

I wish I could, I answered, as apologetically as I could.

"Come on, one drink. It’s on me."

I owe you enough already. And I’m working all weekend anyway.

You don’t owe me shit. And it’s a perfectly good time to go out after you finish work. But… suit yourself, I’ll ask someone else.

He was clearly offended, and to be honest, he had every right to be. I tried not to think about how god awful tired I was, and how I was going to be just as tired at the weekend. And the one after that.

I’ll see if I can go next weekend, okay?

"It has to be this weekend, and it has to be Saturday."

I saw what he was after. I should’ve known.

You need a wingman, don’t you?

He scoffed as if I hadn’t been right.

"No, I just… I might have told someone that I was probably going out on Saturday and that I could maybe swing by a certain club."

It’s Rose Tattoo, isn’t it? You told mainstream Rose Tattoo you’d be out on Saturday?

He shrugged, which I took to mean yes.

Dammit, Cris, just ask people for their number!

That’s not how it works!

"Then how does it work?"

Look, I get that you don’t know shit about dating, but…

How do you mean I don’t know shit about dating? I have a girlfriend, remember?

Yeah, if that counts as dating anymore…

Don’t start.

I gave him a warning stare, but he kept his eyes firmly on the road. We had been through this conversation too many times. Luckily he wasn’t in the mood to have it again, and changed the subject by turning the radio up a few notches.

Didn’t your band play this song in school once?

Don’t fucking remind me.

I grimaced at the awkward memory. We had never made it out of the garage, mainly because I had left; the others hadn’t even made it inside the garage after that.

We turned onto a street lined with grey-bricked blocks of flats. Some of the buildings had more crumbling corners than the others, but they were all equally depressing. Rainwater had gathered either side of the road and was washing bits of rubbish along the tarmac, like polluted little rivers. Cris stopped the car next to the pavement in front of my block, the tyres on my side splashing through a grey puddle. I dug my key out to minimise the time I’d have to stand outside, then turned to him. He was looking back at me with an expressionless face, but I could sense something unpleasant coming up.

You know… his voice had that strangely bitter tone, like disappointment – but not quite. He hesitated, but went on nevertheless. Not like I wasn’t happy to do it, but I feel like the only way to catch up with you nowadays is to give you a ride home.

My eyes shifted to the key I was fiddling with. What could I say? I couldn’t make time if I didn’t have time.

It’s not like I’m being selfish, he continued, turning away like he was talking to himself. I’m just saying, you’re missing out on life.

I had to reply before he could convince me he was right.

Look, I’ll see if… I’ll see about Saturday, yeah?

Don’t worry about it, I get that you’re busy and tired with... you know, work and that.

Yeah, well… I’ll think about it.

All I’m asking.

I opened the door, since there was nothing more I could say.

Thanks for the ride.

Tell Ellie I said ‘hi’.

As if, I laughed.

He flashed me a smile, although a sarcastic one. I got out of the car and hurried to the scuffed front door of one of the identical flats. The damp smell hit me at the threshold, and the hallway descended into blackness when I closed the door. There was a light, but it had been broken since we had moved in. Maybe it was better that way, because now I couldn’t see the filthy carpet with the black, fluffy dust gathered in the corners. I reached out to feel the wall beneath my fingertips and walked on, brushing the plaster until I came to a corner. Then I fumbled in the dark until I felt the doorknob. Living on the ground floor had quickly proven to have its upsides, even though it had annoyed me in the beginning – at least there was no need to walk up any stairs or use the lift that looked and sounded like a death trap.

I only felt the full extent of my tiredness when I finally entered the small flat. I had left home more than eighteen hours ago, and the day behind me was like a thousand-pound weight. My arms felt like lead as I hung my coat in the door-less cupboard; it did have doors, the sliding kind, but they slid anywhere they wanted, so they were basically useless. I wandered into the kitchen, although, I wasn’t sure if I could even call it a kitchen. It was more like a corner with a non-existent countertop, inadequate storage space, gas stove and a small fridge-freezer. And a microwave, of course. There was a dining table big enough for two people, drawing an imaginary line between the kitchen and a living room consisting of a small sofa and the TV that stood awkwardly in front of it. The TV was from my old student flat, so it had suffered some serious damage over the years. Our creaking double bed was cramped in a corner near the sofa. The place wasn’t any better than that old student flat – in fact, it was worse.

Ellie was sitting at the kitchen table, scrutinising something on my laptop, but she turned to look up at me when I wrapped my exhausted arms around her. I inhaled her shower-fresh scent as I kissed her cheek. Her eyes were getting brighter, and the healthy colour was returning to her face slightly more every day. She was looking like herself again. She had been for a little while now, but I still felt happy about it every time I saw her.

How was work? she asked.

Good, made a lot of coffee. Cleaned a lot of desks.

It was awful, wasn’t it?

Yeah, pretty much. I tried to soften the truth with a smile, but she knew very well I hated the place – those places – I worked in. She didn’t say anything, just tried to hide the apology in her eyes; and failed miserably. I stroked her damp hair and got my hands tangled in it; she barely noticed, she was so used to having her hair played with. It was as blonde as a person could naturally have it, and nearly reached her hips. She was wearing an old t-shirt with a worn-out print; I couldn’t remember if it had been mine or hers originally. Her eyes were frozen blue, framed by dark lashes. The soft arches of her rosy lips were highlighted by the pale, yet luminous, skin. Only the thin silver ring around her miniature nose interrupted the angelic innocence of her face – that, and the playfully mean comments she liked to make.

You reek of work-perk coffee, she stated when I sat down at the table with her.

Oh, I thought I’d sweat it out at the office.

Well, I can still smell it. She raised her eyebrows like she had been irritated by the smell, putting the laptop aside.

Don’t worry, I’ll wash it off, I replied, while tapping her tiny nose with my finger. She grabbed my hand and entwined her fingers with mine.

You’re probably not hungry after all that free coffee.

I frowned miserably.

I’m starving. I hadn’t noticed how hungry I actually was until she had mentioned it.

Well, maybe I’ll make you something. I watched her go to the fridge and get out a plate wrapped in cling film.

Ellie? I thought it better to mention it sooner rather than later. She glanced at me over her shoulder.

Yeah?

Um… do you mind if I go out on Saturday, after work?

She shrugged.

Why would I mind?

We both knew the answer to that.

Just thought I’d ask, in case…

"It’s fine, I know you haven’t seen Cris in ages."

She emphasised ‘Cris’ to show she knew I had intentionally left out who I’d be going out with, then put the dish she had taken out of the fridge into the microwave.

I don’t have to go if you need me here, you know…

She gave a heavy exhale and turned to me with crossed arms.

I’m not going to relapse if you stay out a little longer one night.

She said it so straightforwardly that I couldn’t argue with her – and looking at her now, it was impossible to believe she had ever even been in a rehab programme of any sort. All I could do was nod and mutter something to agree with her.

Yeah, I know…

Besides, she added, I’ll get a job soon, so I won’t have to stay at home all day anymore.

You heard back from the applications, then?

No, but it’s not really my thing to be a housewife. I need to get out of this place. Then she nodded at the crackling microwave with a warning smile. So you better enjoy the service while it lasts.

I gave a tired laugh, but the smile faded from Ellie’s lips before she went on. I’ll start volunteering at the church, if nothing else.

I’d like to see that.

She shrugged as if she had been serious.

Would look good on my CV.

You already have that on your CV.

"Yeah, but that was ages ago. I have to be actively doing something now to make it look good."

Well… your CV’s not that bad.

She raised her eyebrows incredulously.

"The only real recommendation I have is from my brother. I mean, they don’t know who he is, but they can see we have the same surname. They probably think he’s my dad, which is even worse."

Then change his last name, I suggested. He won’t mind lying a little if they actually call him. I think he owes you that much.

She shook her head and laughed bitterly, not really convinced by my idea.

Come on, you said it yourself, I reminded, "you will get a job soon."

Yeah, maybe I’ll just be a cleaner, she lamented.

"Ellie, I’m already a cleaner."

Yeah, part-time! I’ll probably be a cleaner for the rest of my life!

Well… you can always progress to… you know, cleaning management.

Oh, well then, that changes it, she laughed. I’ve always wanted to manage cleaners.

Cool, and I have a passion for coffee-making.

She turned to the beeping microwave, and her tone got more serious.

You know I’d happily do some of your shifts if I could.

I took the plate from her after giving her the kiss she demanded for payment. I decided not to tell her that I was perfectly ready to give away all my shifts, if I could.

It’s fine, you need to find something you’re passionate about. We can’t both be stuck in shitty jobs.

It took a while before the bathroom light came on after pulling the chord, so I stood in the dark, waiting for my reflection to appear in the mirror above the sink. The little kid in me who had been terrified of the dark was still sure there’d be some sort of demon lurking behind me when the light came on. If there had been one, I would’ve happily sold my soul for a day off. Or for a couple of hundred pounds. But there was no demon, just the sickly green tiles lined with black dots that no detergent could defeat.

And my reflection.

I hardly recognised the green eyes as mine. There were dark shadows under them, and they were surrounded by red veins drawn by prolonged tiredness. Strands of my brown hair fell on my forehead. I didn’t even know what to call my hairstyle anymore. It was getting a bit too long and tended to get tangled in the double helix on my right ear. I felt like my features were unnecessarily delicate, almost ‘elfin’ like, as I had sometimes been called in the past. My lips were still well-defined, and my jawline was sharp – like my collarbone, which was just visible in the mirror.

I couldn’t see the rest of me, although maybe it was better that way; taking my shirt off revealed how my unhealthy lifestyle was starting to take its toll. But at least the few tattoos scattered around my arms and torso still looked familiar. A couple of them were amazingly skillful – especially the newest one on my back. The oldest ones were clumsy, amateurish, and so faded that it was hard to remember what they had originally looked like. It seemed as if my skin was fading too, it was so pale. I told myself it was just the sallow lighting. Or maybe my body was catching up with my mind and I was turning into an actual zombie.

Two

The café I worked in was quite small, but that seemed to make it all the more popular. Well, the space was small, the business was a big chain. This particular shop was an obnoxious hipster-haven, with its purposefully scuffed vintage chairs and tables. The coffee-themed posters framed on the walls made a perfect backdrop for all the local social media influencers, but the worst part was the depressingly soothing indie music playing in the background, with an occasional pop song. The managers probably thought it was a safe choice, something everyone would like, not realising that for every customer who enjoyed it, there were two who hated it. But in spite of all that, it wasn’t a bad place to work. Well, at least it hadn’t been a bad place to work when it had just been my part-time job – now that I was serving coffee full-time to people whose world crashed if they got the wrong syrup in their latte, I had a whole new perspective.

I had caught the bus barely in time and arrived at the café just before the worst morning traffic, since I was doing the inhumanely early opening shift. On the bright side, I shared this shift with my boss, who was just as devoted a smoker as I was. I found her standing near the door, going through her huge purse with half of her belongings in one hand.

Please don’t tell me you don’t have a lighter, either, I groaned as soon as I was within earshot. She glanced at me, shaking her head with a worried laugh.

I swear I… she started, then abruptly pulled a lighter from the depths of her bag with a victorious smile. I held out my hands for a temporary storage for her belongings, so they wouldn’t scatter on the pavement as she re-packed her bag. Then she lit her cigarette whilst I got mine out. We received an occasional bad look from pretentious, offended pedestrians passing by, but there were no alleyways near the café for discreet smoking.

I think it’s a sign.

Huh?

She held up the lighter. We should quit.

I wish.

She smiled as if accepting her fate as an eternal smoker. It was sometimes awkward communicating with Alex for the sole reason that her face was so much lower than mine. She had such a tightly styled ponytail she almost looked bald, especially since her hair was also dyed platinum blonde. It didn’t help that her face was quite round. She wasn’t overweight as such, she just had a certain roundness to her.

It’s a nice morning, she declared after gazing at the orange glow in the skyline.

Yeah, if you like mornings.

She gave a short but happy laugh.

You’ll start liking mornings when you get old like me.

If I live that long.

I couldn’t help laughing at her dramatically offended expression in spite of my numbing tiredness.

"Just wait until you get to your forties, she warned. You’ll have a bigger crisis than I have when the first wrinkle appears on that precious face of yours."

Don’t worry, I’m past that, I assured her. I’m mentally seventy.

How come? she scoffed.

My friend wants me to go out with him at the weekend, but I just want to sleep.

Sounds like a young person’s problem to me. She raised her eyebrows at me. "But you should definitely go, or you’ll regret it when you’re actually seventy."

I didn’t get a chance to reply before her attention was caught by someone behind me.

Oh, hi! Are you Danielle? she asked suddenly, making me look over my shoulder.

Just Dani, the girl replied with a wide smile.

I’m Alexandra, we spoke on the phone. Some great example we’re showing, on your first day! Alex laughed while stumping her cigarette, then went to unlock the door while I replied to Dani’s cheery handshake.

I only realised how disinterested I seemed when Alex leaned closer to Dani and whispered loud enough to make sure I heard.

He’s really nice, he just doesn’t want people to know it.

The day at the café was no different from any other long and boring day, which was exactly what I expected from my evening job as well – since I had already forgotten all about the strange encounter from the night