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    Back in Service: Service Girl Chronicles, #2
    Back in Service: Service Girl Chronicles, #2
    Back in Service: Service Girl Chronicles, #2
    Ebook141 pages2 hours

    Back in Service: Service Girl Chronicles, #2

    By Heidi Lowe

    4.5/5

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    About this ebook

    Now that her first year of drama school is over, Erica returns home for the holidays, with empty pockets and a keen appetite to see her favorite clients again. One in particular.

    But there's a spanner in the works. Having been out of action for almost a year, she returns to find that a new girl has taken her place. Not only will this affect her ability to earn, she's concerned that her special place in Dana's heart could be under threat.

    As she continues to juggle love, family and her risque career, it's only a matter of time before everything around her begins to unravel.

    Back in Service is the second book in the Service Girl Chronicles.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHeidi Lowe Books
    Release dateJul 18, 2018
    ISBN9781386936978
    Back in Service: Service Girl Chronicles, #2
    Author

    Heidi Lowe

    Heidi Lowe writes steamy lesbian fiction.

    Read more from Heidi Lowe

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      Book preview

      Back in Service - Heidi Lowe

      Back in Service

      (Service Girl Chronicles, 2)

      by Heidi Lowe

      Published by Heidi Lowe Books, 2018.

      This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

      BACK IN SERVICE

      First edition. June 9, 2018

      Copyright © 2018 Heidi Lowe

      _________________________

      For exclusive content, discounts, and news of upcoming titles,

      visit www.hlowebooks.com or sign up to Heidi's newsletter

          _________________________

      CONTENTS

      Title

      ONE

      TWO

      THREE

      FOUR

      FIVE

      SIX

      SEVEN

      EIGHT

      NINE

      TEN

      ELEVEN

      TWELVE

      THIRTEEN

      Out of Service Preview

      Books By Heidi Lowe

      Blurb

      ___________________________

      ONE

      With the biggest grin on my face, I stepped out of O'Hare Airport and took a huge breath, sniffed in the American air. It felt great to be home. Nine months away had seemed like forever.

      I wheeled my two cases to the curb and waited for my ride, wondering how long it would take my dad to get here. I hadn’t been away long enough to forget how chaotic the highway was at this time in the afternoon.

      I stuck my earbuds in, clicked play on a Received Pronunciation recording I’d downloaded for school, then proceeded to practice my accent, ignoring the funny looks I received from the waiting travelers. Being the only American in my year at RADA, I was at a disadvantage when it came to speaking the Queen’s English, so the extra practice was a must. I couldn’t wait to use my RP voice on the Chicago residents.

      About five minutes into my wait, I spotted a beat-up old Honda huffing, puffing and sputtering its way toward the pickup bay. Dirty black smoke poured out of the exhaust, polluting the air. If this wasn’t an environmental hazard worse than a thousand landfills, I didn’t know what was. My heart went out to the person who had the misfortune of being picked up in that.

      Then it stopped in front of me, and my dad stepped out! My heart sank to the ground.

      Well look at you, Hollywood! he shouted jovially, drawing everyone’s attention to us and the monstrosity.

      My happiness at seeing him again was severely tempered by my embarrassment. He threw his arms around me, nearly choking the life out of me, and wouldn’t let go until I wriggled free.

      You look great, love, he said, stepping back so he could give me the once-over. Already looking the part with those.

      He was referring to my sunglasses, which I was now thankful to be wearing.

      You’ve lost weight, I said to him. He took my cases, popped the trunk (which I didn’t think would open, but luckily did), and loaded them in.

      So I’ve heard.

      The handle of the passenger’s seat door almost didn’t open, and I had to tug with all my might to get in. Inside, the air smelled of mold and feet. The seat was uncomfortable, the headrest loose. To my surprise, though, the seat belt actually worked.

      And if all of that wasn’t bad enough, the engine cut out as soon as we set off.

      Sorry about this, he said, starting it up again. I know you’re probably jet-lagged and want to get home.

      It took only a few minutes of beating around the bush before I came right out and said, So what happened to the Lexus?

      Sold it months ago. Got a good price.

      You loved that car.

      He shrugged easily. Just a relic from an old life. No use holding onto something I can’t afford.

      Being thousands of miles away had made it easy to forget the misery of the life I’d left behind here, namely the bankruptcy. Although we’d spoken several times on the phone, my parents had done a great job of keeping me insulated from their troubles. I knew that Carl Mirchoff had done a stellar job in keeping my dad out of jail; but outside of that they’d made sure not to burden me with their problems. Shielded me from the harsh reality. Now that I was back, however, no such shield was available.

      What about my car? I’m sure Jo wouldn’t have minded if you took it.

      There just seemed to be something so ironic about an ex-luxury car salesman driving something that was...anything but luxury.

      It’s fine, love. Honest. She might not be much to look at, but she gets me where I need to go...most of the time. He laughed heartily, as he always did when he tried to put a positive spin on a crappy situation.

      How’s the job working out? I said.

      It’s going well. I mean, apart from the fact that I don't know the first thing about sporting gear. Eddie’s been really supportive and patient with me. I owe him a lot.

      Eddie was his old friend from college. He owned a chain of sporting goods stores across Illinois, and had given my dad an assistant manager position in his Chicago branch. The benefits of having friends in high places.

      But I don’t want to talk about my boring, old life. I want to hear all about you. What are your plans for the next three months?

      I laughed. Can I get home first, before I start planning my future?

      Are you thinking of getting your old job back at the coffee shop? What will you do for money?

      He didn’t know that I’d left under bad circumstances, nor that I knew exactly what I would do for cash. The one thing, besides acting, that I excelled at and also happened to love. He didn’t see the little smile creep to my lips when I thought about getting back to my clients, who were probably dying to see me again; dying to throw money at my feet for taking them to heaven and back. A shiver of excitement ran down my spine.

      I’ll think of something, I said.

      The crummy apartment I’d left behind seemed even more crummy when I returned. Smaller too. And despite the paint job my mother had done, the place still felt cold, unwelcoming, and dull. The old place was a home; this was...not.

      My mom’s hug lasted just as long as my dad’s, and I had to pry her off just like I had him. Parents! And although I made a point of acting cool and independent, I’d missed the crap out of them.

      I put fresh sheets on your bed, Mom said.

      But I had no intention of going to sleep, jet-lagged though I was. Instead, I took a shower and got dressed, prettied myself up.

      Where are you off to already? I thought you wanted to sleep, Dad said as I headed out the door.

      To see a friend.

      Tell Jo I said hi.

      I rolled my eyes. I have other friends besides Jo, Dad.

      Of course you do, love.

      His inadvertent condescension only made me laugh. The truth was, before my sexy, wealthy clients, all of whom I considered my friends, Jo was my only friend. There were acquaintances I said hello to every now and then, but no one I hung out with. That was why being with the ladies meant so much to me; for the first time in my life I had a social life. I’d made friends in RADA, of course, thanks to my new-found confidence. But nothing compared to being the center of attention to hot, rich housewives.

      It was one of said housewives that I was on my way to see. The smile that spread across my face as I trotted to the bus stop could not be contained. I’d been beaming like that all through my flight, knowing it was only a matter of time before I saw the lovely Dana again.

      I said hello and sat beside the old man perched at the bus stop. I’d never seen him before, but my spirits were so high that afternoon, talking to strangers seemed like the natural thing to do.

      I took out my phone and flicked through my photos until I got to the second week in January. These were photos I’d seen a thousand times or more, and couldn’t stop staring at. There we were, me and Dana; snaps taken on a night out in Soho, on a morning outside Buckingham Palace, and an evening in her hotel room, in bed, naked, the camera aimed in such a way that no naughty bits were showing. In total, thirty-five pictures of her or us together, all locked away behind a secret photo vault app that required a password to access.

      Just as she’d promised, she’d visited me in London. The best four days of my life. We'd spent every day together, most of which were passed in bed, in her hotel room at The Ritz. On her final night, I almost told her I loved her. But that wasn’t the right time, just as it hadn’t been the night before I left for London.

      Looking at those pictures of us — smiling, happy, perfect — we could have been Mrs and Mrs Evans-Frost. She could have been mine. When I zoomed in on her hand, I noticed that her wedding ring was missing. She never wore it the whole time we were together. For me, or to avoid awkward questions? Who knew?

      I spent the whole bus ride looking through the photos of my time in London. The sights, the friends I’d made — who all seemed to think I was hilarious for some reason — school, my housemates. The life I’d built in the UK was everything I’d dreamed of, but as long as she wasn’t there, it never felt complete.

      Wrapping my knuckles against the mansion door, I sucked in a deep breath, the excitement rising to my head, making me dizzy. Thump, thump went my heart. What would she do when she opened the door and saw me standing there, unexpected, having not called and told her I was back in town? Would she embrace me in a hug that rivaled my parents’, kiss me incessantly (something the Brits called snogging... don’t ask me why)?

      When the door opened, my smile vanished. It wasn’t Dana that answered, but a shaggy-haired dude in his twenties, wearing nothing but boxers, a bowl of Cheerios in his hand. He looked just as suspicious to see me as I was to see him. Who the heck was he and why was he answering Dana’s door?

      Uh, hi...

      Uh, hi, he repeated, before stuffing a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

      Is Dana here, I’m a friend of hers?

      "Is Dana here, I’m a friend of

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