Something About Harry
by Suz suzvoy@tesco.net

Disclaimer - Well, ABC own Denby...

Don't take this seriously. If you do you're liable to hurt yourself.

*

From: crichardson@hitmail.com
To: speccybecky@rew.net

Dear Becky,

Well, who would have thought it - Steven shacking up with Teresa! Heaven forbid. Still, thanks for letting me know. I don't hear from either one of them these days...Lord knows why.

Anyway, how are you? How are the kids? Send them my love. How's Chris (and more importantly, how's your sex life?) Did he get that infection seen to? I hope so, if only for your sake.

Things are pretty much the calm after the storm around here. I've almost got everything unpacked from the move - why is it that the number of personal items I have seem to multiply whenever I move anywhere? - and by unpacked I mean 'lying around the apartment with dirty dishes on them.' I never could learn to clean up after myself. In truth the only things I can say have been properly 'unpacked' are my computer (what would I do without it?), my television (no way am I missing my show), and my coffee maker - I have more caffeine flowing through my veins than blood. But then, you're just as bad. Mom taught us well.

The apartment itself is lovely. Maybe a little smaller than I'd been looking for, and maybe not as...well...in good condition, but it's in a great part of the city - if there is such a thing - and frankly it's just adorable. It's mine.

I await your response, which will no doubt berate me for describing my apartment as 'adorable' with baited breath.

As for other residents of the building...haven't really met many yet. There's an old lady upstairs called Iris who made a point of introducing herself - oh God, and when you come to visit, whatever you do don't ask to see her photo collection - but with everyone else I'm just meeting them as I bump into them. So far I've seen two women living upstairs - separately - two men living downstairs - together - a couple just down the hall with a fondness for Elvis, and a man in the apartment to the right of mine.

Speaking of which, you should come visit soon. He's a cutie.

Well, it's the first day of THE JOB today. I still can't believe it! And I'm willing to admit that I'm getting very, very nervous.

Why did I agree to take it?

I'm off to have a shower, drinks lots of coffee, and eat obscene amounts of ice cream. If I had any ice cream in the freezer, that is.

I'll probably e-mail you again tomorrow. Wish me luck.

Love and hugs,

An extremely nervous Claire.

*

Dear Becky,

My first day at work went very well, thank you very much! My boss is such a sweetie - even if his boss is an absolute prick. But my boss, Dan, is so absolutely lovely and made it really easy for me to fit in. Oh, he certainly has a disgusting sense of humour, but as you know so do I so we'll get on wonderfully.

The office seems a friendly enough place. The usual mishmash of names and faces that I'll never remember. A few cute guys - probably gay knowing my luck. Showing me the ropes is a woman called Carol. Definitely has an interesting fashion sense all her own. I swear you need sunglasses just to look at her, but she's terrific too.

I've been so damned lucky lately that it's freaking me out. I'm just waiting for something bad to happen.

Ooo...someone's knocking at my door! Be right back...

...I'm back. It was one of the women from upstairs, and I now know her name is Liz. She brought me a plate of brownies. They tasted disgusting but we shared them with some wine that she conveniently also brought along and suddenly they tasted wonderful. She apologised for not introducing herself sooner, but she's been very busy with her work. Apparently she's a struggling artist, although she refuses to classify herself as such.

She can also hold her alcohol. I have to go to bed. I'm starting to feel dizzy...

Oh! It turns out I'm also not the only one who just moved in. Cute guy next door moved in about a week ago. Nobody knows anything about him - what he does, where he used to live. All they know is that his name is Harry.

Love and hugs,

A slightly tipsy Claire

*

Dear Becky,

I have a lunch buddy already. Carol has taken it upon herself to go to lunch with me every single day which is great, but I'm seriously considering investing in a good pair of sunglasses - she's even brighter in daylight.

Please, tell me every detail about Hannah's play - I wish I could be there to see it! And I'm sure she won't wet herself on stage! You have to be optimistic, look on the bright side of life...like that song.

Liz has also taken it upon herself to sneak down to my apartment whenever she can, just to talk about the mysterious Harry. I think she has a serious crush. The most she's heard out of him is "Hello" and - truth be told - that's all I've got out of him, too. It's that whole tall, dark, handsome and mysterious thing, isn't it? It was just the same with Alec...

Blergh. That was my own fault, wasn't it? I brought up that particular subject. Let's move on.

Last time Liz visited she brought the other woman from upstairs with her, who's called Roberta. She's probably the most 'normal' one I've met so far - although I suppose it depends on your definition of normal. All I'll say is; she doesn't have a pornographic photo collection, she doesn't have a disturbingly obsessive fascination with a dead singer, and she doesn't turn up in my doorway covered in paint whispering, "He just said hello to me!"

Love and hugs,

A Not-thinking-about-Alec Claire

P.S. Glad to hear about the infection. Dr Morris always did do wonders.

*

Dear Becky,

Well, add another to the 'fascinated by Harry' list. We had a girls night in - alcohol, ice cream, chick flicks, the usual - and ended up talking about guys (of course). Now that we've brought him to her attention, Roberta is quite fascinated by the Harry Denby situation.

Oh, that's his surname. Denby. Harry Denby. Roberta shared that with me. I don't know why she didn't tell me immediately - how could it not be vital information?

Sorry about Hannah, by the way, but it could have been worse. I'll leave that to your imagination.

Weekend tomorrow. The girls (the girls...I have a 'the girls'. Hee.) and I have decided to use every opportunity we can to 'bump into' the mysterious Mr Denby.

Hey, it's a hobby.

Love and hugs,

The Starting-to-feel-like-a-peeping-Tom Claire

*

Hold everything! The man can TALK! I had an actual conversation with him (no, not when I was trying to accidentally bump into him) in the elevator. It broke down. Seriously. No tampering, no false intentions. It just broke down.

You should see the grin of my face.

Nothing happened of course (although the girls are insisting otherwise and are quite upset that I'm not sharing the details), we just made conversation. Or more specifically, he made conversation and I stood there, slack-jawed, wondering just how the hell his brain works.

He's intelligent. Very. I don't see how he could possibly not plan everything he says - it doesn't sound like anything a regular person would say. I'd say it was mostly defensive; he was trying to protect himself from something, although God knows what. Certainly not me.

And I couldn't help it - since the girls posed the question as to what kind of underwear he wears I spent most of the time trying to stare and not-stare at his butt. I'm sure he noticed. How embarrassing.

Claire

*

Boxers. MAN, do I mean boxers.

You wouldn't believe what's been happening! So, two nights ago I'm lying in bed, when I suddenly KNOW that I'm being watched. I sit up and see some guy in a ski mask standing in my bedroom. You should have heard the scream - actually, you probably did! The guy had a gun. A GUN!

Immediately he turned and ran and - I can't believe this - I actually leapt out of bed and went after him. Don't ask me why. It was just instinct.

I had just stepped out the door of my apartment when a very nice chest stopped me. Yes, the chest belonged to the elusive Mr Denby, and all he was wearing was a pair of black boxer shorts. As soon as I noticed those I realised how very little I was wearing. It was a hot night, and I never wear a lot anyway. I couldn't decide if I should try to cover myself up or not.

He didn't even seem to notice, just grabbed my arm and murmured, "Don't."

It took me a few moments to realise that he meant that I shouldn't go after the man in the ski mask.

For some reason, it was only at that moment that I realised what he was holding in his free hand (he was still holding onto me with the other hand) - a gun. And he knew what he was doing with it.

Then Liz and Roberta came stampeding out of the elevator. They stared at us in shock for a moment, then began edging back towards the elevator. "Don't mind us!" Liz yelled, winking (I almost died) "Go back to what you were doing!"

"No," I shouted back, hearing the creak of a door as the Elvis couple finally peered into the hallway. "It's not..." I shook my head and shrugged apologetically to Harry. "We should call the police."

Sighing, he turned his head and studied my busted door. For some reason he winced. "Yeah."

I soon found out why. MAN, did I find out why!

I phoned up and the police didn't seem too interested, but as soon as I made an off-hand remark about Harry Denby helping me out they suddenly told me they'd be there in a few minutes.

You can imagine my surprise.

It was a bald guy and his partner who turned up, and both were snarling at Harry from the beginning - especially the bald guy whose name was Sipo...something I can't spell. From what I could figure Sipo and partner knew Harry because - get this - Harry is a cop! I didn't see that one coming!

They took my statement, and glared at Harry the whole time. They seemed to be convinced that he had something to do with it - I had to point out several times that he had helped me, and they were really starting to get on my nerves.

Then the name 'Diane' kept creeping up in conversation; usually hostile conversations. I felt as if I didn't even exist when they got going. Something about Diane, drugs, Dominican's, Denby...a lot of D's. Something about Harry being undercover.

They left, eventually. Harry apologised. I told him to stop being so silly, and offered him a drink.

He stared at me for fully ten seconds before asking for a glass of milk.

We talked for a while, and I think it was the first time he was honest with me about anything.

I can tell you, work is boring in comparison to my personal life recently.

Love and hugs,

Claire

*

You're so sweet! I am absolutely fine, it seems the only damage was to the apartment door. Nothing was taken. I guess he was scared off. At least I can only pray that all he wanted was to take something...it's too horrible to contemplate.

And what do you mean by saying I 'spend too much time obsessing about a man I can't possibly have'?

Hell, Becky, I don't WANT him! Do you have any idea the amount of emotional problems this guy has? I'll be his friend, if he'll let me, but no way would I want to date him!

Doesn't mean I won't have sex with him though.

HA! Made you blink. Just kidding.

Really.

The-not-entirely-sure-if-she's-joking Claire

*

Scratch the sex. He's already doing that.

Sigh.

It was fun while it lasted.

So, picture this: I'm in my apartment last night, appreciating my fixed door, when someone knocks. I open the door and Liz practically pushes me back into my own apartment and slams the door. Leaning against said door she heaves for breath and declares, "There's a woman next door!"

Needless to say, I'm interested.

As she tells it, she was heading towards my apartment for a visit anyway, when a woman with shoulder length brown hair stampeded past her and headed straight for Harry's apartment. She thumped on the door loudly and when it opened she walked straight in. All Liz heard was "Diane, honey!" before the door closed quickly.

The elusive Denby and the elusive Diane meeting up.

I was even more interested.

As I grabbed a glass off the side and put it against the wall, Liz called up to Roberta's apartment. I think it's the fastest Roberta's ever moved. Within seconds Liz was letting her in, and we all crowded around the same glass, trying to listen as I pushed my ear against the end of the glass. When they realised how stupid they were being, they got their own glasses.

There was a lot of shouting, but not many specifics that we could pick up - just that this Diane was very angry with Harry about something. After about ten minutes of shouting - I was starting to cramp and Roberta was sure she'd heard the phrase 'a sex change of consideration' (that caused some interest, as I'm sure you can imagine) - it stopped.

We weren't sure what was happening at first, but then something thudded against the wall.

All wincing we moved our faces and glasses away from the wall.

Something thumped again, and at the same time we all realised what it was.

As one we said "Shit," then found a bottle of wine and sat around, commiserating as we tried not to listen to what was going on in the next apartment.

When she left the next morning, passing me in the hallway, she was trying not to smile. I decided not to point out that Elvis couple were peering around their doorway, giggling.

Or that her skirt was caught up in her underwear.

I'm not jealous. Really.

Claire

~FINIS

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