[18+] Mark just wants a quiet life. With plenty of action at work, he has no interest in bringing the drama home with him. But he does need a flatmate, and when blonde bombshell Zoe crashes onto the scene, she's more than he bargained for.
Zoe is a...
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August 2006
MARK
I don't like my new flatmate. She's bubblier than a bottle of champagne, and I fucking hate champagne—especially when a bunch of loud toffs are knocking it back like water while dancing around my living room.
I've never been happier to leave for a night shift.
After a quick pat of my pockets to check for my warrant card, keys, and wallet, I yank open my bedroom door and step into the zoo. Thumping music assaults my eardrums. If we don't get a noise complaint from neighbours, it'll be a fucking miracle.
A tall brunette glides into my path, reeking of alcohol and sickly perfume. She wobbles in her heels as she tilts a flirty smile at me.
"Hey there." One pointy fingernail grates over my chest. "Zoe said her new flatmate was hot, but we thought she was exaggerating. Stay for a drink?"
"Oh my god!" Zoe stumbles into her friend's side, eyes wide. "Mark, I'm sorry. Ignore her. I never said that. I mean, I did, but not like in a, you know, objectifying kind of way—"
"I need to go to work," I say, to save us all from this excruciating exchange. "See you tomorrow."
"Yes! Of course." Her cheeks flush as she glances around the room. "We'll be finished by the time you're back. Don't worry."
I nod and step around them. A scan of the room doesn't reassure me that this party will be finished by seven. Bottles litter the worktops, a concerning majority of them still unopened.
Zoe and I should set some ground rules. Our lease is for a year, and we're barely a week into it. If she's a party animal, that's not going to work.
On second thoughts, a noise complaint would be ideal.
*
I didn't join the police to babysit thieving scumbags, and yet somehow I spend six hours of my shift sitting in a hospital corridor because a burglar claimed he'd swallowed a battery. It's a common tactic employed to upgrade their accommodation from a custody cell to a hospital bed. Plus they know it pisses off cops.
If it was up to me, I'd call their bluff. On the highly unlikely chance they have actually been stupid enough to eat a battery... Oh well, natural selection at its finest.
Sadly, though, it's not up to me, so instead I have to sit around and watch overworked nurses fawn over some prick who'd break into their houses at the first opportunity he got.
I grind my teeth as I listen to the radio buzz with activity. My sergeant is desperate for resource. There's a fight at a pub, a domestic at a hotel, and an RTC with fatalities. I can't attend any of them. I can only listen with fear when Ben offers to attend the domestic alone.
