Page 16 of Safe Word

Back to myself… The phrase made the corners of my lips twitch a little. I hadn’t been myself since I beat that monster to the brink of death twenty years ago. Everything since then had been a slow descent into chaos and the things I didn’t want to look at too closely. Vinnie might’ve thought I was just a writer going through a slump, but I knew better.

Maybe I was becoming a psychopath myself, given my increasingly darkening inclinations.

The first candidate shuffled in, all nerves and broken English. I barely managed to keep a straight face as Vinnie turned to the window, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

By the time the poor guy finished fumbling through his qualifications, I was glaring daggers at my best friend.

The second the door clicked shut, I muttered, ‘If the next one pulls the same shit, I’m going to beat you.’

He finally turned, grinning like the arsehole he was. ‘Come on,’ he said, his tone light and teasing. ‘This is fun. Admit it.’

‘Oh yeah. A fucking riot,’ I deadpanned, though I felt the threat of a smile coming on – which only made Vinnie’s grin widen.

‘Next one’s a winner,’ he said with a wink, heading for the door. ‘Promise.’

I rolled my eyes, settling back into my chair as I muttered, ‘Your promises are shit.’

The next candidate – a cheerful mother of five – explained she wanted to ‘earn some cash when she had the time.’ I resisted the urge to bang my head against the desk as soon as the words left her.

This wasn’t a hobby. It was my livelihood. And Vinnie’s.

When she finally left, I sat there tapping the edge of the desk anxiously, glaring at Vinnie for letting her through the door in the first place.

‘It was an improvement?’ he offered with a sheepish grin.

I narrowed my eyes, my hand jolting slightly towards the monitor. If I hadn’t been so fond of my equipment, I might’ve hurled it at him.

Another knock on the door. My patience, already threadbare, snapped further. Planting my face in my hands, I let out a slow, controlled exhale and regretted not booking Scarlett for tonight. I was going to need to let out some steam after all this.

Maybe I should go to the gym.

Or maybe I should find someone else to fuck hard enough to forget the terms of my contract with Scarlett. But even that felt pointless. No one opened their mouth like her, closed those lips around my knife. No one got wet like her at the feel of my blade pressing.

No one tasted like her.

Not even the weights would offer release. Lifting iron couldn’t bleed out the tension in my veins the way she could – stripped bare, bound, trembling, waiting for my command.

Ah, hell…

I had ruined my day with this. Two days.

Three more disasters followed – a wannabe poet, a retired teacher looking for ‘a new challenge,’ and someone who treated writing as a ‘passion project.’ Each was worse than the last.

I wanted to scream.

Writing wasn’t easy. It wasn’t something you dabbled in between Netflix marathons or PTA meetings. The sheer arrogance of these people, thinking they could waltz in and fake their way through it…

The final candidate wasn’t a writer at all – just a fan who had clearly memorised my bibliography and spent the entire interview blushing and stammering. Her questions didn’t even relate to the job; they were all about me. My writing process. My inspiration. My favourite meal. Sure, it was flattering, but I’d had more than enough of this kind of attention. It was becoming less of an ego boost and more of an annoyance.

In the end, I signed a copy of my latest book, handed it to her, and sent her on her way.

When the door closed behind her, I turned to glare at the broken coffee maker slumbering like a useless relic on the shelf. I caught myself fidgeting with the long sleeves of my shirt, which gave away just how much I was hating this.

I never fidgeted.

‘You still haven’t found someone to fix that thing?’ I asked, deciding to channel my irritation into something other than insulting Vinnie and his appalling vetting skills.

He glanced at the coffee maker, then back at me with a long-suffering sigh.