Chapter 14

Pretty Angie Hill’s eyes blazed with fury and she stamped her feet in anger.

“Just what the hell is going on here Ian? The petit brown haired fireball craned her neck as she strove to look up at the tall, bean pole whose nearly six foot frame seemed to tower over her.

She studied his lean face which still bore the final remains of a severe outbreak of acne, and tried to meet his eyes but it was useless. Because she barely broke the five foot mark her feet were getting tired from standing on her tip toes and her neck was getting sore from its strained position.

“I thought we were ... kind of like friends ... you know, and then you try and pull this crap on me.”

Angie gave up and sat back down in her seat. She took her eyes off him long enough to shuffle through the series of photos that were spread out on the table in front of them. They were sitting in a closed booth in a bar not far from their work place. She had agreed to meet Ian there after he told her he had something important to discuss with her. They both worked for the same business but since Ian toiled away in the shipping receiving area while she was in the accounting department, they barely knew one another. In truth, they rarely talked to one another unless Ian had questions about his pay cheque. The few times he appeared at her desk, her female work mates giggled behind his back and called him a nerd which made Angie feel sorry for him. She liked his quiet manner. She thought it showed respect so when he caught her in the doorway when everybody was departing work and suggested they go for a drink at the bar, she agreed, thinking he was working up the nerve to ask her out for a date.

But she was wrong. Oh, how wrong she was. He had almost managed to deceive her because by the looks of it, he was trying to black mail her. Well, it turned out to be a bumbled attempt because she knew how to handle guys like this. Who cares if smoking weed was illegal? Simple possession was such a minor offence nowadays the courts barely give you slap on the wrist.

She gathered up the photos which showed her smoking the grass with a group of people and shoved the pile towards Ian.

“I’m so disappointed. I always thought you were the decent type and actually hoped we could hang around together sometime ... you know ... be some kind of friends.” Now that Angie was sitting down she was able to look Ian directly in the eyes.

He had a shame faced look as he tore his eyes away from hers and slowly gathered up the photos.

“I’m sorry,” Ian mumbled, his face red like a school boy’s caught misbehaving. “I guess I’m a terrible black mailer. You see, I do like you. “I think you’re kind of ... augh ... hot.” He blushed beet red at the admittance. “ But I thought, since you barely seem to notice me, I thought it was the best way for us to become best friends and join the club ... you ... augh ... know.”

Angie was a sucker for sob stories and Ian’s contrite face and attempt at an honest confession softened her anger.

“Well, you didn’t have to go that extent. All you had to do is ask me out. And who knows? Maybe I might have said yes.” Angie admonished Ian.

Ian’s blush grew and it now covered his whole face. He shrugged his shoulders helplessly and his face as he admitted his defeat.

“Look I’m really not like this, into blackmailing,” he added. “But I thought you were too pretty and smart to go out with a guy like me so I tried to do what the rest of the group were doing.

“Group, what group?” Angie asked. Her interest was piqued and it grew as Ian began to explain about the Best Friends Club and how it was formed.