Free Kept by Elle Field

what they were. Did he really want
me to spell it out for him? A fierce look when I didn’t answer meant he
did.  
    ‘I went a little mad with my spending,’ I began quietly,
feeling ashamed. ‘But I thought I’d have a job sorted out before it got too
serious, and now they’re sending me threatening letters because I defaulted on
some payments.’
    Piers was studying my face, not answering.
    I sighed. ‘I’ve been so silly. I know I should have asked
Mum and Dad to help me, but I have my pride. I wanted to prove I was a grown-up
to them.’
    I couldn’t look him in the eye. Honestly, I wasn’t implying
anything, yet he tilted my head up from where I was staring mortified at the
floor, before tutting fondly at me.
    ‘Arielle, you silly,’ he said softly, ‘you could have asked
me.’
    ‘I can’t take your money, Piers,’ I quickly protested.
‘You’ve already done more than enough for me. I feel bad enough as it is, like
I’m taking advantage here because I don’t contribute.’
    ‘Hey! It’s my fault you’re not working now, isn’t it? So,
don’t worry. I’ll take care of these.’
    ‘Piers, no!’
    I tried to grab hold of the bills, but he stood up and held
them high. I didn’t want his charity. I saw how hard he worked for his money
and in some way he inspired me. Gone were my wishes of fairy godmothers; I knew
I could and would achieve something fantastic all by myself. Piers had shown me
it was possible.
    ‘Arielle.’ He said it warningly, but there was a tender look
in his eyes. ‘I’m doing this for you regardless of what you say and, believe
me, I’m taking advantage of you.’
    ‘Piers!’
    He had that look in his eye, the one that meant he would
politely and nicely insist over and over until I caved in. He was tenacious; I
knew I was defeated.
    ‘OK, thank you,’ I meekly said. ‘Really, Piers, thanks. I
will pay you back as soon as I’m on my feet and working.’
    ‘Whatever you say.’ He smiled at me again, his frowns
disappearing. ‘I’ll take care of these in the morning. Now, what do you want
for dinner?’
    And that was it – credit cards paid off – and Piers calling
in a favour because I really fancied sushi and he would only eat it from Nobu
but didn’t want to leave the house. Like everything in his life problems were
fixable with one phone call. I soon came to envy this, but at that moment I was
grateful more than anything else.
          
    A week later, there was a surprise in the post. ‘Here,’
Lydia said, passing me the envelope. ‘For you.’
    ‘I’m not expecting anything. I wonder what it is?’ I tore
open the letter to reveal a credit card. ‘There’s been some mistake,’ I
muttered, spotting “Miss A D Lockley” on the card. ‘I didn’t ask for this.’
      And I hadn’t. How
could I have? I didn’t earn any money and they didn’t exactly hand out platinum
cards to people with lousy credit scores with temporary addresses. As for my
credit cards, I had cut them up because I didn’t want the temptation,
especially around Lydia whose job in life was to shop.  
    She laughed. I think more at my stupidity than anything
else. ‘No, but Piers clearly did.’ She winked at me, her black curls bouncing
with the movement on her shoulders.  
    Today she was wearing a sapphire tee adorned with hundreds
of hand-stitched rhinestones – Prada, I suspected – and dirty denim and
leopard-print ripped jeans from the latest Roberto Cavalli collection. I was
super jealous, especially considering I was in an Armani Exchange tee that I’d
possibly swiped from a uni friend and Diesel jeans from three seasons ago that
I had picked up in the sales. I’d sacrificed them as I needed to cut up the
seam to get them over my cast and they were of the “boyfriend” variety. What
had I been thinking? Back then I often made the rookie error of picking up
designer clothes in the sale because of their label, not because they actually
looked nice.
    ‘Piers?’