Chapter Text
Serena sighs heavily and swallows the dregs of the mediocre Shiraz she has been served. The pub is loud and stuffy, bustling with people in poorly fitting suits, out for an after work drink or two. Definitely not her usual scene.
She catches the eye of the bartender and gestures for another glass of red, hopes that the next one will taste better than the last, or at least that the alcohol in her system will make her believe it does.
The bartender places another Shiraz in front of her that Serena immediately clasps between her fingers. He gives her a dubious look and she raises a challenging brow, takes an extra large swallow and proceeds to glare at the phone screen in front of her.
Call me as soon as you can. The parasite is going to challenge your divorce petition. S x’
Parasite. Trust Sian to find the one word that sums up her hopefully soon-to-be ex-husband. Serena feels inclined to add a few choice words of her own.
Wanker. Scumbag. Deplorable, potato-faced son of a…
“Is this seat taken?”
The balding, middle-aged man standing, no - swaying, in front of her reeks of stale smoke, at least two pints too many, and resembles Edward far too much for Serena's liking. She feels inclined to say yes, but he sits down before she can answer, so she opts for a non-committal shrug and decides she won’t care as long as he leaves her in peace.
“Why the gloomy face, love? Did someone stand you up?” Ah yes, she should have known better.
He places a meaty hand on top of Serena’s and leers at her. “Name’s Harold, by the way. I’m happy to fill in, you know.”
“Oh, I’m sure you are,” Serena mutters under her breath. J ust leave, a voice in her head pipes up, but her pride doesn’t let her. She won’t let another idiot’s antics further affect her already terrible night. Deciding that he isn’t worth causing a scene, she wordlessly frees her hand and picks up her phone again to signal a lack of interest in her unwanted companion. Alas, her chosen approach proves too subtle.
“Wassat?”
"Nothing." She looks up, shoots him a glare that would send even the cockiest of her F1s scurrying. “Listen, I’m really not in the mood for idle chit-chat.”
“Oh, cheer up, love. A beautiful child like you should smile! Suits you much better.”
Child?
Serena groans inwardly, forces an exaggerated grin, and directs her eyes back at her already almost empty wine glass.
The man leans towards her again and Serena can feel her hackles rise. The voice that reaches her ears, however, is decidedly female.
“I think you’ve heard my friend. She’s not interested.”
She turns around and her eyes fall on a slim blonde standing behind them, arms crossed and an unimpressed look on her otherwise delicate features. The woman turns towards Serena, leans down and softly kisses her cheek.
“Just play along, okay?” she whispers before straightening herself again and shooting her an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry I’m late. Traffic has been hellish."
It takes Serena a second or two to regain her composure, slightly thrown off-kilter by the stranger's affectionate display.
“Ugh, I can imagine!” she exclaims with an exaggerated huff. "I’m so glad you made it. Here, sit… Oh. ”
For a moment she had actually forgotten about the lech seated next to her. She falters, still hesitant to cause a scene. The other woman lays a reassuring hand on her shoulder as if to say ‘let me handle this’. There is a mischievous glint in her eye that immediately has Serena on the edge of her seat.
She turns to address their unwanted hanger-on and clears her throat. “Thank you for keeping my seat warm, that’s so kind of you. But I think we both know that you have overstayed your welcome, so if you don’t mind…”
The overly friendly tone is contradicted by a steely expression that brooks no argument and makes Serena swoon slightly. At first Harold looks like he wants to protest, but another glare from the beautiful stranger makes him change his mind, his pint sloshing as he scrambles to get away from them.
"Now that was quite the show."
"Well, I could see the daggers your eyes were shooting at him from over there," the other woman waves her hand across the room, "And I figured I should step in. For his benefit as much as yours. Well… not really for his benefit." She grins cheekily at Serena.
"A true knight in shining armour, I see. Can I offer you a drink, o brave one?"
"How can I refuse such an offer? I'll have whatever you're drinking, thank you. I'm Bernie, by the way,” the woman extends her hand, smiling expectantly at Serena.
Something makes Serena hesitate, even though she already wants to get to know Bernie better. She feels like she has too much emotional baggage that is holding her back and yearns to be someone else for tonight, not Serena Campbell, tired, middle-aged divorcee and mother of one currently very moody teenage daughter. But she cannot lie, not even to a virtual stranger, so she opts for a half-truth instead.
“Nice to meet you, Bernie. I’m Wendy.”
Bernie raises her eyebrows, clearly amused.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing. Just… you don’t seem like a Wendy to me. What were your parents thinking?” The cheeky grin that Bernie shoots her tells Serena she's teasing. Well, two can play at this game.
“Says the woman who insists people call her by a name that my grandfather would've found old-fashioned. Pray tell, what trauma-inducing name did your parents inflict on you? I'm betting you're a Bernadette."
Bernie says nothing, just smirks and takes a sip of her wine. There’s that mischievous glint of hers again, which Serena finds herself growing more attached to by the minute.
"Wouldn't you like to know? A girl has to have some secrets, though, doesn’t she." Another cheeky wink is directed at Serena. The audacity. "Anyway, what is a beautiful woman like you doing here on her own? I don't think I've seen you here before."
"Well, aren't you a charmer," Serena huffs. "Come here often, do you? And don't think I don't realise that you're stalling. It can't be that bad, surely? And may I remind you, I'm not exactly in a position to judge you either."
Bernie earnestly ponders Serena's argument. "Well, I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you. And that would be a shame, wouldn't you agree? Hey, don't laugh at me! I was in the army, you know. I know thirteen ways to kill someone with my bare hands.”
Serena can't help it, she has to laugh out loud at that statement. There is something about Bernie's playful cockiness that intrigues her and makes her feel at ease. She hasn't felt this light-hearted in days, maybe even weeks, she thinks.
“Oh my, you're full of surprises! Fit Army girl, who would’ve thought it.” She makes a show of feeling Bernie’s biceps and inspecting her admittedly strong hands. “Thirteen ways, eh? Do you reckon you could teach me a trick or two? Might come in handy when I'm dealing with annoying exes."
"Well, these hands could definitely teach you some tricks. Okay, I can tell you one secret, if you're still interested." Bernie smirks at Serena's eager nod, then leans forward to whisper in her ear: "I'm ambidextrous."
Serena gulps. The feeling of Bernie's warm breath against her cheeks sends a delicious shiver down her spine. For a split second she's so distracted that she almost misses Bernie's next remark, nonchalantly added like an afterthought but clear in its intention.
"... and my flat's just around the corner."