Cocky Notes: A Hero Club Novel

by Leesa Bow

  Early Sunday morning the city streets are bare. Revellers from the night before stroll by before heading home to bed. Thankfully, Lombardi’s is blocks away from the clubs. If trouble breaks out, we’re a safe distance from violence.

  After parking out back in the staff carpark, I enter through the back door and pass Dominic chopping away with his prized knife. Piero stands at the stovetop. Two cooks today. I better check the notes in case I missed a birthday function.

  “Morning.”

  “Morning, beautiful Macy. The sun is shining for you,” Dominic sings.

  “It’s barely up.” I laugh.

  I place my bag in the office, read the notes from Oliver mentioning Dominic and Piero preparing samplers for a new menu

  I head through to the dining room, fire up the computer and register, check off a list, and unlock the wooden front doors. A figure lying on the ground wrapped in a stained woollen blanket moves slightly. Salt and pepper hair covers his face, the same length as his beard.

  “Harry, you don’t have to move yet.” My stomach sinks every time he’s out there. I reach into my pocket and pull out a ten-dollar note. “If you’re around the back at five, I can bring you some of the leftover food.”

  He nods. “Thanks, Macy. I’ll get moving before your customers arrive.”

  I don’t know his story. Only that he’s gentle and broke. Does he have family? I stop myself from going there and getting emotionally involved. I help where I can and offer kindness. Oliver doesn’t know I feed him. I’m not stealing. I give Harry the leftover food on use-by date, which will be thrown out.

  “I’ll see you around five.” He hobbles away, backpack on his shoulder and a blanket over his arm.

  My stomach’s tight after seeing Harry.

  The morning lacks excitement for me without the footballers’ jovial voices echoing off the walls. Tables are filled, and I’m busy enough to keep my thoughts away from Reef. I keep looking at the table, his seat, where a teenage group sits.

  I sigh, distracted. My infatuation is getting old. I should bang him and move on so I can focus on more important things.

  I clear the tables for the guests who have been waiting outside. After taking their orders, Oliver calls me into his office and sends Tara, our casual waitress, out to cover for me.

  “Have you noticed the line on the street?”

  “Pretty hard not to. I’m doing my best for those who have finished to pay up and move on.”

  “Yeah. But it’s not what I want. I like people to see us as a place to meet up. I’m looking to extend our dining to the street, but it will take months for the council to approve the application. What I am looking at is an external counter. And having someone permanently stationed on coffee so people can come and leave and not crowd the counter… remain outside.”

  I nod. “Keep people happy. Good idea. Some only want coffee.”

  “Yeah. I need a barista and someone to take orders so I can keep you on the floor because I’ve heard some of the footballers are coming to see you.”

  Heat rises to my cheeks. “I don’t think that’s true.”

  He chuckles. “Just telling you what I heard. And next weekend I have a table booked for Chance Bateman, a soccer player. Have you heard of him?”

  “I have.”

  “He’s meeting some people from interstate here, and I told them they could stay as long as they need. So, don’t try to boot them off the table.”

  “Noted,” I say. Walking away, it clicks how he’s discussed plans of the business with me. As though I’m a responsible employee. Trusted. Reliable.

  Maybe I don’t have to be like my mum.

  Maybe I can be better.

  So I can’t jeopardise my job by banging the customers.

  On my day off, I live up to my new mantra and take Dad to the pool and let him check it out without forcing him to agree to anything. He walked in on his prosthetic leg. By the look on his, face he couldn’t walk fast enough out of there.

  By Wednesday, my brave front has slipped a little when Reef waltzes in with his mates. I manage to get through the morning by asking Ava to wait on Reef’s table. It took all my strength not to meet his gaze when my body zinged with heat. I could finally breathe easy when they filed out the door—that is until Ava presented me with a folded piece of paper.

  “Now I know where all the menus are disappearing.” She raises an eyebrow. “The surfy-looking dude asked me to give this to you.”

  “Right.” I stuff it in my back pocket.

  “No way, girlfriend.” She takes me by the arm and drags me out back. “Read it.”

  “I can’t. It’s a stupid game I don’t want to keep playing.”

  She folds her arms. “Why?”

  “He’s a customer. I can’t get involved with someone like him.”

  “You have given me two different reasons.”

  “Exactly.” I hold my chest hoping the tightness will ease.

  “Mace, forget the customer thing. It won’t be a problem, so get over it. And someone like him… I don’t want to hear you say it again. I made the same mistake once. Paying for it ever since. You have to believe in yourself. You are good enough.”

  I shrug. “It’s different.”

  “It’s not. Trust me when I tell you not to give up until you’ve given it everything you have. No regrets.”

  Her last words snare my attention.

  “Open it.”

  I unfold the menu, ignore the arrows and circles and find the section written for me. It’s in the top right corner like on the previous menu.

  The property of Reef Burton.

  Please return to known address tonight.

  “Fuck,” I mumble.

  “What?” She leans over my shoulder and peruses the note. “What am I looking at?” I point to the corner. “Oh.”

  I fold the piece of paper and put it in my pocket.

  “I want to know what happens tomorrow.”

  “Nothing will happen,” I say, more to myself in a promise.

  “Tell him we’re changing the menu and looking for suggestions from these guys since they’re regulars.” She gives me a copy of the menu options as though giving me a reason to go.

  Chapter Eight

  MACY

  “Reef Burton, please.”

  I don’t bother to look the receptionist in the eye. Dressed in heels, a long skirt, and a short-sleeved button-up shirt to the nape of my neck, it looks like I’m ready for a job interview.

  “Name please.”

  “Macy Reynolds.”

  She repeats my name over the phone, then she turns to me. “He’ll be down in a minute.”

  I stroll toward the elevator, his note in my hand. The moment the doors open, I’m caught in his web, melting at the way he smiles.

  I shake my head, and I’m unsure if it’s to him or myself. I hold out the folded menu before he has a chance to embrace me in a friendly hug. “I believe this belongs to you. And here is a revised menu with options. Oliver would appreciate your input.”

  He glances over to reception. She’s watching us, I know it without looking.

  “Thank you for returning it, Miss Reynolds. I have other documentation upstairs. If you have a moment…”

  I glance at my phone. “I’m on a tight schedule.”

  “Come this way.”

  Seriously, who are we kidding? She saw me the night I fled.

  “I can’t,” I murmur.

  Reef’s brow pulls tight. He takes my hand to calm me. “Macy, please,” he whispers.

  My insides tighten at the sound of my name rolling off his lips. I’m staring at those lips imagining them on my body. Our gaze meets, and his eyes flare in need and frustration.

  I shake my head. “I’m sorry,” I mouth.

  He releases my hand and folds his arms.

  I take a few steps back second-guessing myself. My intimate areas are screaming at being denied the promise I mentally made. Bang him and move on.

&
nbsp; With every step toward the door, I’m questioning my behaviour. Why am I denying the attraction? We want each other. A night of passion to fuel the need, and then we can take the next step. Be it forget each other or...

  My chest constricts, and the last few strides to my car are a jog. In the safety of the cabin, I look to the top floor, to a window I make out to be his penthouse.

  He’s there, peering down watching me while I gather my thoughts and will my heart to slow.

  No regrets.

  I start the ignition and drive to Georgia’s house. At least she’ll understand.

  “I can have one wine,” I tell her. “Because I need to be home soon. Dad will want to go to bed. I needed to talk first.” I slide behind the gleaming glass table and grab a coaster from the centre, so the condensation doesn’t leave a mark.

  “Of course,” she says, pouring sav blanc from an opened bottle, one for me and another for her.

  “So, you’re talking about the surfy-looking guy, the one who was drunk leaning over Chance’s shoulder?”

  “Yes. We’d made a connection before that night.”

  She sits opposite me at the table and watches my reaction. “And you made out?”

  “Only made out. No sex but…”

  She raises her glass ready to make a point. “It’s just sex, babe. Those guys know it. The longer you draw it out, the harder they play. It goes hand in hand with sports players. They’re competitive… yada, yada… you know what I’m saying. You want him. He wants you. Get it over with so you can move on.”

  It’s the reason Georgia and I get on so well. We’re two of a kind.

  “Wait. Unless you don’t want to—”

  “I do,” I say, and inhale dramatically. “I mean… I need your help. I’m feeling weird, and I’m not sure what’s going on in my head.”

  “Shit, girl. You took the bait. He’s reeling you in.” She takes a sip of wine while assessing me over the rim of the glass.

  “I’m not hooked easily. It’s why I need your help to get the upper hand.” I gulp a few mouthfuls of wine hoping for clarity.

  “Help you how?”

  I point a finger at her. “Exactly. I have no clue, babe.”

  “I’ve seen a movie where this happens,” she says with wine-influenced honesty. “You can’t sleep with him if you want to keep him around.”

  I roll my eyes. “It’s not the movies.” I sigh.

  She lifts the wine to her lips. Her expression changes. “What are you afraid of?”

  “What do you mean?”

  She pulls her legs up and rests her chin on her knees. “Something has spooked you. It’s why you’re here. You don’t need my help. It’s something else.”

  “No, no.” I take another mouthful of wine and stand before I have finished the glass. “I really have to go and check on Dad. Let’s make plans to go out in another week or so.”

  I leave before Georgia probes further. I couldn’t admit to falling for him even without having sex. Something is stopping me from sleeping with him because I know once will not be enough. I’ll want more, and neither of us can give more.

  Georgia understands my hang-ups about my mother and knows how much I don’t want to follow in her footsteps, but here I am not allowing anyone in while keeping a heart of cold glass. No emotion to give it life, and the lack of motherly nurture left my heart fragile and ready to shatter, especially at the thought of losing my father. Because he’s the only person my heart loves purely.

  The entire drive home in the car, I reiterate the importance of keeping my distance for now. I’m sure Reef will find someone else quickly because I don’t mean anything to him. I repeat the last line like a mantra, rebuilding the walls around my heart.

  Some of the Blackbird footballers stroll into Lombardi’s, and there is no sign of Reef. Is he mad at me? Or is he keeping his distance because it’s what he thinks I want?

  “Did you hear about Nemo?” the dark-haired guy with a man bun says as though he’s telling a joke.

  “What did he do now?”

  “Went surfing this morning and the fin of the surfboard sliced his groin. He’s out of action for a couple of weeks until it heals.”

  Nemo?

  “Coach was shitty as fuck. Asked why he was surfing before training.”

  They all chuckle.

  “He’s been doing it for years, man. How has coach not known?”

  I glance up and look around the table to see who is saying what. “And coffees?” I ask. “Do you want cake, breakfast?” Turns out Nemo is more important than breakfast.

  “Just the regular, sweetheart,” a blond guy says without a glance my way.

  Shit, I am invisible. Evidently, they don’t know anything about me. About Reef and me.

  “Do you want me to bring out the chef recommendations?”

  “Yeah. Perfect. Thanks.”

  I turn away, tapping on my iPad, pretending to be busy while the guys discuss Nemo.

  It clicks.

  Reef. Nemo. Nicknames are part of the football world.

  “How long is he out of action?”

  “A couple of weeks.”

  “That’s if he doesn’t get suspended for ignoring coach’s rule.”

  Eyes down, I have no idea who is saying what. But I can’t move. I need to know what’s happened to Nemo.

  “Twelve stitches. Missed his sack.”

  They all break out in stomach-wobbling laughter. Only these guys have a fat indicator of probably two percent. Nothing wobbles. All firm muscle and definition.

  “Fuck, imagine having your ball sack ripped open from a fin of a surfboard. A shark bite would do less.”

  “Bullshit, dickhead.”

  “Anyway, who’s taking his spot on the wing?”

  “Roughy.”

  “Nemo’s going to be pissed if he doesn’t get his spot back before the season.”

  I glance up to the guy who spoke last. It resonates. Everything Reef has worked for is on the brink—one stupid decision for enjoyment.

  The big guy is eyeing me. I’ve overstayed my welcome.

  “Okay. Got it. Your order will be out soon.”

  Nemo isn’t discussed again.

  Clearing their mugs and dirty plates, I don’t even care about their silly game plan on the back of the menu.

  The hours passed slowly with Reef not here. Even more so knowing he’s home, in pain.

  I swore not to go back there.

  He has a groin wound.

  I’m on safe ground.

  He could use a friend, not a mate to take the piss.

  My shift ends, and I drive to the Bay.

  “Reef Burton, please,” I say to the receptionist. Argh, even now I’m second-guessing myself as she speaks to him on the phone.

  “He wants me to take you up,” she says, sounding put out.

  I take the ride in the elevator with Miss Snobby, and she leaves me outside his door. I knock once. Twice.

  The door opens, but he doesn’t smile. I walk in and watch Reef hobble back to his chair then elevate his feet.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Do I look okay?”

  I sit beside him. “I heard the guys joking about Nemo.”

  He groans. “Bastards.”

  “Put two and two together and thought you could use a friend.”

  His eyes meet mine. “Is that what we are?”

  “For now,” I whisper.

  He nods. “I’m not much fun to be around. The drugs might knock me out. Just so you know it’s not you.”

  I laugh. “You wouldn’t be sleeping if I had my way…”

  He smiles. “Sorry, Mace. I’m out of action.”

  “I know. It’s why I’m here.” I shrug. “Safe ground. Thought we could take it slow and start over.”

  Reef reaches for my hand and rubs a thumb over my knuckles. “Do you like sports?” He drives the remote with his free hand.

  “Nope. I prefer horror.”

  “Serious
?”

  I nod. “It’s my thing.”

  “Weird.”

  “You didn’t take me for the romance type, or rom-com?”

  “No. Weird because horror is my go-to.”

  Something we have in common. That shouldn’t make me feel so good, and yet it does. We oddly agree on the same movie, and while it loads, I sneak into the kitchen to call Dad. “Everything okay?” I whisper.

  “Yeah, love.”

  “I’m catching a movie with a friend. I’ll see you when I get home.”

  “Sure. I thought I might catch the cricket replay streamed from the UK. I’ll be fine. I’ll warm up some leftovers.”

  “Okay. Call me if you need me to come home.”

  I pad into the lounge as the intro music of It rolls onto the screen.

  “Need me to hold your hand?”

  I snort. “Got any red balloons?”

  He chuckles. “Thanks for taking my mind off the pain.”

  “Hey, I’m thankful it missed your sack.”

  He flinches, and his expression changes. I’m not sure what sparked his sour expression. I thought these guys thought about sex twenty-four-seven. “We have unfinished business, remember?” I’m flirting and enjoying it.

  “Damn right. I’m getting a raincheck just so you know.” He grins. It’s subtle, and enough for me to relax. I’m starting to understand him better. Aware he is a man of few words, and maybe it’s why he gives out the shy vibe. A contrast to his mate, Chance. He’s content to sit beside me in silence, our fingers close but not touching.

  I lean into the cushioned lounge, stretch out until my hand lands on his. He interlocks our fingers without taking his eyes from the screen.

  Now I’m smiling, and it’s not subtle.

  Chapter Nine

  MACY

  “Macy, sweet cheeks.” The words roll off Chance’s tongue as he enters the restaurant just after nine. I can’t help but smile at those dimples.

  “We have your table reserved by the window for six. Do you need more chairs?” I ask, noting the six AFL players standing behind Chance.