Downtown Girl (Lipstick Red #1) Read online

  Downtown Girl

  Zara Asher

  Website: zaraasher.com

  Twitter: @ZaraAsher

  Copyright © 2014 Zara Asher

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by photocopying or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage or retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author.

  Kindle Edition

  Cover Design by Melody Simmons

  The story contained within this book is a work of fiction.

  Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, organization, gang or group, either living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  This book contains graphic sexual content of an adult nature.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  About The Author

  Thank You

  Chapter 1

  Steeling her shaking hands, Taylor breathed deeply before walking into the imposing London tower where she’d spend a year of her life working. Her eyes travelled upwards as the marble flooring made way for an imposing staircase of glass shards, shimmering in the reflection from the glass ceiling.

  The busy but immaculately groomed receptionist with sleek brown hair and blood red nails spoke, without looking up from her desk. ‘Name?’

  ‘Taylor…err…. Griffiths. Here to see…’

  ‘Yes, yes. Take a seat over there.’ She waved a pointy fingernail towards a wall of chairs, already full of at least twenty other twenty something young men and women, twirling their hair, or patting their clothes, or picking their nails, or jabbing swiftly moving fingers over smartphone keyboards.

  Taylor’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She smiled, knowing it would be a text from Amber, her best friend since grade school, and pulled it out.

  ‘How’s London?’

  ‘Hot and clammy. How’s New Orleans?’

  ‘Hotter and clammier I bet. Met anyone interesting yet?’

  ‘I just got here! If you hadn’t backed out and left me to come to a whole new Country alone, I wouldn’t have spent the last two days wandering about on my own.’

  A shuffling noise caught her attention, as a huge set of wooden panel double doors opened. She stuffed her phone back into the jacket pocket of her new smart gray suit, while another brunette with red fingernails began a roll call.

  ‘Griffiths, Taylor,’ she shouted eventually.

  ‘Here,’ Taylor answered, standing and straightening her back while holding her hand up to acknowledge her name.

  ‘We thought you were a man.’ Her eyes flared in surprise, looking Taylor up and down, with a frown decorating her face.

  ‘I’m all woman. Well I was when I last looked in the mirror.’ Her joke fell on deaf ears, but did manage to elicit a disgusted frown from the pointy nailed goddess.

  ‘Sorry. American humor.’ She shrugged her shoulders, trying to break the ice.

  ‘Quite,’ said the starched brunette, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

  Clapping her hands as if she were talking to a room full of toddlers, she steered them through the double doors, along a glass corridor and into a cavernous lecture hall, complete with a professional stage and glass podium.

  The seating was old fashioned, with a modern twist. Laid out in rows, stepping up like university seating, individual desks lifted up from slots at the side of each carved oak chair.

  When the room was quiet and the lights dimmed, a tall blonde woman stepped onto the stage, in a black designer suit and expensive shoes. She oozed sophistication with every slow measured step.

  Coming to London on a work exchange was a big step that Taylor had planned for months. It’d seemed easy when Amber was coming too, and she’d considered calling it a day and pulling out when Amber decided to stay at home, until her brother Mark, had called her a wimp. She was not one to back down from a challenge.

  ‘Good morning ladies and gentlemen,’ the stunning blonde said. Taylor felt she should know who the blonde was, but she’d forgotten to pick up her orientation brochure when she’d been late for her flight.

  ‘I’d like to welcome you all to Willgox, the premier legal practice in Britain. For every one of you here, there were a thousand applicants. Consider yourselves the lucky chosen few. Make no mistake. We will work you hard and we will expect you to burn the midnight oil in pursuit of your dreams, and ours. Thank you.’

  The blonde sat elegantly on the podium, making way for another speaker. A well-dressed man with brown hair, wearing a crisp white shirt that gleamed in the spotlight.

  ‘Thank you Gillian.’ He nodded towards the blonde. ‘For your enlightening opening.’ He turned back to face the crowd. ‘I’m Jack Collins, the MD of Willgox Inc. We’ll soon be splitting you up, pairing each of you with an experienced lawyer for your time with us. What we haven’t told you so far, is that there will be several openings with our company at the end of this year, for the brightest stars from your group. May the best men or women win!’

  Jack Collins left the stage in a haze of applause, to make way for a procession of experienced lawyers, hungrily claiming their new assistants. Each new assistant meant less work for the old hands.

  ‘Griffiths, Taylor.’ A gruff, but well dressed man in his late forties or early fifties shouted her name.

  Taylor copied the other work experience candidates, stuck out her hand and met the surprised Kevin Jenkins gaze. So far, it seemed women were paired with women and men with men, as mentors in both gender and senior status. She’d be the only woman paired with a man.

  ‘All those young bucks, and I get a filly!’ Kevin Jenkins chuckled, his jowls wobbling as he laughed.

  ‘Nice to meet you sir,’ Taylor held out her hand to shake his.

  ‘Just call me Kevin,’ he said warmly, his shirt coming loose from his trousers as he pumped her outstretched hand. ‘I swear you youngsters get younger every year!’

  ‘I’m twenty four, I’m not that young!’ She giggled, relieved that he had a sense of humor. She instantly knew that she’d enjoy working for Kevin. He was nothing like the stuffy lawyers in suits she’d expected.

  ‘What brings you to London?’ he asked, walking along the corridor to show her his corner of the Willgox building.

  ‘It seemed like an adventure,’ she grinned. ‘And, coming to work in Britain is good experience for my future.’ She glanced sideways, the flicker of a smile twisting her lips, and then quietly added ‘I wanted to get away from an ex-boyfriend who cheated on me with someone I worked with.’

  ‘I think you and I will get along just fine!’ Kevin raised his eyebrows and chuckled again. He seemed pleased that he’d got a young lawyer who had a sense of humor and was honest.

  She felt irrationally excited when she was shown where she’d spend the next year of her life working. Her desk was an old solid oak slab, with a comfortable black leather chair resting beside it. Running her hands along the top of the chair, she inhaled the scent of new and old in the room of white walls with its own door. An empty bookcase dominated one side of the room, while the room seemed sterile and bare.

  In
New Orleans, she’d worked in a three foot by three foot square cube, made with fabric covered wooden walls, metal feet, and no window in sight. Here, she had an actual room of her own, with a window looking out onto a central courtyard of greenery and blooming flowers. She even had a secretary outside her door. Ok, she was Kevin’s secretary, but she’d been told she could use Annabel for up to ten hours a week.

  Left alone when Kevin was called to a meeting, she felt compelled to share her excitement with someone. Pulling up Amber’s contact on her phone, her fingers swiftly clacked the keys for a hurried message.

  ‘Squeee. A whole room to myself, WITH a window. How’s your cube?’ Snapping a picture of her office, she shared it on Facebook.

  ‘Claustrophobic! Jealous, I am not!!!!! Well, only a little. What’s your first case going to be? Not bad going for an old downtown girl turned international jet setter huh?’

  ‘Who’re you calling a downtown girl, you urban ghetto dweller? I’ve no idea what my first case will be, or even when it’ll be. I’ll probably be making coffee and fetching doughnuts for six months! Do they even eat doughnuts here? I’ll have to look out for a Krispy Kreme.’

  ‘Lawyer to coffee popper. Great career choice hon. Happy I stayed a divorce intern.’

  ‘Ha…. Enjoy your cube while I chill out in my little slice of heaven with a view!’

  Mentally hugging herself, Taylor trailed her fingers along the desk. This was going to be a good year. And what if she won a place permanently at Willgox? She’d be made for life.

  Chapter 2

  Three months later……

  Annabel knocked on Taylor’s door with a hot milky coffee in her hand. ‘Sustenance with an extra shot of caffeine and a pack of pro-plus on top. I’m off home in five minutes, so if you want anything, you need to ask now!’

  ‘Tell Kevin I’m working late, and not to lock up the suite. I’ll do it on the way out. Thanks for working late again. I owe you one.’ Taylor shot Annabel a genuine smile of affection.

  ‘Finish before midnight, or you’ll be exhausted in the morning, again!’ Annabel tried to gently push Taylor into going home, but she was not budging. She’d too much to do.

  ‘Goodnight Annabel, have a nice evening.’ Taylor grimaced as she eyed up the tray of unanswered mail on her desk, and the four piles of three foot high file stacks on her office floor.

  The first thing she’d done in London was to make a friend of Annabel. A shared secretary who doesn’t like you, isn’t going to be helpful. Annabel wasn’t the same kind of friend as Amber, but she’d felt less lonely with a friend in the office. It also gave her someone to share lunches and office gossip with.

  Taylor was helping Kevin with at least a dozen cases at once. She’d no idea how he managed to keep up, as well as representing clients in court. He only worked on criminal cases so she’d had a fast introduction to the seedier side of life. She’d asked Kevin why he often represented guilty people, but he’d just shrugged his shoulders, saying everyone is entitled to a fair defense. He had a point.

  Kevin burst into her office in the way that only he could. Enthusiastic, jovial and wearing the committed and enthralled expression of a man who’d scored a breakthrough in a major case.

  ‘We’ve done it! He’s agreed to meet. I’m in court representing a client on the day he’s allocated, so you’ll have to go.’ For two months, they’d tried to get a meeting with David Burton, but, until now, he’d resisted.

  ‘Me?’ Taylor asked, her eyebrows shooting up and sweat beading on her upper lip. ‘I couldn’t possibly go alone.’

  ‘He’s a respectable man now Taylor, that’s why we want him. Remember that. What he knows is valuable for the Inglebrook case, and great experience for you.’

  Taylor knew she was being played by Kevin. He wanted to see how good she was at gathering evidence. She’d looked David Burton up on the Internet and found evidence of a thug, involved in drug smuggling and extortion while he was only in his teens. Initially, she’d found it hard to relate the bad boy on the Internet with the file of the successful but private International Shipping company owner he was now. Trying to find an updated picture, she was disappointed. It was as if he’d died at the age of twenty one. He didn’t have Twitter, or Facebook, unless he used a fake name, which was entirely possible. She imagined that celebrities could have accounts in ordinary names to interact on social media in the same way as the rest of us do. How cool would it be to find out that Maisie Shawlands from somewhere in the US was really your favorite singer, who you’ve forged a great online friendship with.

  Photographs, and his police mug shot from his rebel teen days, showed a skinhead with love and hate tattoos on his knuckles, bright blue eyes, and the top of a Dragon tattoo peeking out of his t-shirt at the top. The Dragon was his gang stamp, from a miss spent youth.

  Kevin was defending Alan Inglebrook, the current leader of a hip and trendy opposing gang, who refused to share information that could aid his defense. He’d been accused of eliminating rival gang members, one by one. Kevin was convinced he was innocent, but had no way of proving it.

  David Burton could be on the hit list of potential murder suspects, and if he was, he’d know it.

  ‘What will I ask him?’ she queried, knowing full well that she’d have to go, whether she liked it or not.

  Grinning, Kevin handed her yet another file. ‘All you need to know is in there. I’ve booked a room for you, close to his building in Leeds. Your train is four am tomorrow, and your appointment is Thursday at ten. Don’t be late. He tends to scratch people from his calendar if they make him wait.’ Kevin shot her a warning glance before continuing, obviously considering his words carefully. ‘He’ll expect you to know your stuff. Pack for two days in case you get a second chance at cracking him.’ Kevin scratched his chin, as if he wondered whether he should carry on. ‘And Taylor!’ he said softly.

  ‘What!’ she answered, aggravated. Her tone was shrill and sharp.

  ‘Go home, now!’ He took the pile of mail from her desk and waved his arm toward the door. ‘Get some sleep. You’ve an early morning.’

  Reluctantly, she gathered what she’d need and walked to the door before turning back.

  ‘Out,’ Kevin gestured to the door, brooking no argument.

  ###

  This was not what she needed, as working late gave her purpose. It gave her satisfaction, and it filled her life. The prospect of being home alone by eight pm wasn’t something she’d relish. Even after three months in London, she’d neither met nor dated anyone. She’d worked solidly since Kevin took her under his wing. She knew she’d been lucky in the mentor draw, as he was a fair and helpful boss. Some of the younger, hotshot mentors, had treated their exchange partners badly, and she didn’t like it. Many of her peers had gone home already, having given up their International Law experience dreams.

  On the train home, she’d ignored the file in her hand. As the messenger, she’d only have to ask the questions, record the answers, and transcribe the interview for later. How hard could that be? Her research told her that David Burton had been high up in his gang, and had possibly ordered murders and beatings. Her stomach knotted at the thought he might still be dangerous. She’d be meeting a real live ex-gangland leader. He might be reformed, but she was convinced he’d still be a violent thug.

  Stopping at the corner shop beside her flat, she trailed her hand along the shelf of chocolate bars. She chose a luxurious bar of Swiss Milk Chocolate, knowing full well she was compensating for the lack of a love life. She’d have to watch, as she’d already gained a few pounds and grown some curves. She used to be such a skinny little thing, but when she looked in the mirror now, she saw a real woman with sleek dark hair, blue gray eyes, rounded hips, and boobs that filled out a shirt.

  She loved the new flat she’d rented on her own, after giving up her space in the shared house with other exchange lawyers. They’d partied too much, and she’d hated how the bathroom was always dirty, with every l
ast dish in the kitchen, permanently covered in half eaten food.

  She’d found her new place by accident. Walking to work, she’d taken a wrong turn and spotted the sign in the window. It hadn’t been advertised as far as she knew, as she’d been looking. Taking a chance, she’d knocked on the door there and then. She’d been rewarded by a friendly outgoing tenant who was keen to find someone new to take over the lease. The white walls reminded her of home, and it was fully furnished in muted shades of brown and cream, just what she liked. It was small, but it was hers, and if she cleaned in the morning, her little corner of the world looked exactly the same when she got home from work. She loved the scent of gardenia and lime that always met her when she opened her front door. She’d never tire of that.

  Packing her case was harder than she thought. She imagined that David Burton was used to leggy blondes in short skirts, so she was grateful for the brunette waves that she’d simply tie back in a pony tail, or twist up into a bun. To help mute her blue gray eyes, she chose her glasses rather than her contact lenses. They made her look intelligent.

  Chapter 3

  In Leeds, Taylor set her phone map, walking the route to find out where David Burton’s building was in relation to her hotel. It was only a ten minute walk. She wouldn’t have to get up too early.

  International Shipping Company, she snorted to herself as she stood below its five storey high office and warehouse building. She wondered if he still dabbled in drugs, and if his company was an excuse to launder money. It would certainly explain why he’d achieved such wealth and power in such a short time. She also knew that Kevin would be disappointed in her for even thinking it, as he was a great believer in successful rehabilitation of hardened criminals.

  Turning away from the building, she swung round swiftly, intending to return to her hotel and prepare for the next morning. Flinging her leather satchel bag over her shoulder, she felt it strike something behind her, hearing an instant grunt, as if she'd slugged someone with the force of a hurricane.