by Cerys du Lys
“You’ve got class and style, clearly,” he said. “But you walk into my bar one morning having slept the night rough God knows where. You’ve never worked in a bar before but you’re a natural: you can mix with anybody and you’re not afraid of long days and hard work. Closest I can describe it is you’re like a chameleon: you can blend in just about anywhere.”
She swallowed. She still wasn’t confident she could find any words yet.
The man.
“You okay?”
Those silver eyes were fixed on her. She looked down. Her food was mostly untouched. “Yes,” she said. “It’s just...”
“It’s okay,” he said, reaching out to put a hand on her arm.
His touch – she couldn’t put a word to the sensation. Intimate, sensitive, but at the same time... the man.
“It’s fine,” he said. “You don’t have to tell me anything. We’re all cool. We’ve all got stuff we’re running away from.” Then he smiled, and added, “At least, those of us who end up some place like this have.”
5
Back in prison Ashti had described revenge as the best feeling in the world.
El had come to believe that, too.
With Danny... that mad, intoxicating adrenalin rush had swept over her, through her, and it had been unlike anything she’d ever known.
She’d made someone hurt, like she’d been hurting.
It wasn’t something to be proud of, she knew. It didn’t make her a better person. If anything, it dragged her down to their level, or below.
But that mad rush!
She’d had a long time to build up to that, though. She’d known Danny was first on her list, and she knew he deserved everything that came his way. Just the thought of it had kept her going through the darkest times in prison.
But now... Now she had a face to attach to all those gathered up feelings. A name.
Rob.
It should have made things simpler, but it didn’t.
How could she transfer all that anger onto an easy-going, wide-smiling beach bum like Rob?
§
She couldn’t, because he wasn’t the man.
He was just an easy-going bum who was running a beach-side bar, who liked to sit down with a pretty waitress and impress her with bragging about how he was the big everything. The kind of guy who’ll say pretty much anything to get into a girl’s panties.
The man... the real man... well, tonight he was a no-show, but at least he was out there, he was real, and that alone gave El the sense that she was getting close.
Tonight...
It started out as what El was coming to know as a typical evening at La Taberna. Early evening, the sun dipping low and that furnace heat starting to ebb away, and it was family time. Parents with their kids, out for drinks and food – anything with French fries, and preferably an old favorite: fish, pie, steak, and for the kids, fish fingers or sausages or chicken nuggets. Increasingly, the families drifted away and were replaced by groups of young drinkers, older couples, expats who were always clearly identifiable by their leathery sun-wrinkled skin.
Rob manned the bar, while Lucy and El worked the floor, a constant stream of clearing tables, taking orders and ferrying food out from Inge’s kitchen.
Around mid-evening, Rob went to take a call in the back office. El went across to the bar to cover for him, but also because he’d left the door open and she might just catch what the call was. This was the place he used to call people like Danny – and her late husband... It made sense that any use of that phone might give her some kind of lead.
A middle-aged couple came to the bar then, talking loudly in German to each other, then pausing to address El in faltering, and even louder, Spanish.
She raised her hands, gave them the smile, and said, “Guten abend. What can I get you to drink?” By the time she’d finished serving them two Carlings and talking them through the menu, she turned and Rob was coming through the doorway.
He nodded to her, and said, “Thanks for that,” as she threaded out from behind the bar. Then he went on, “Looks like we’ve got some company tonight. Might need cover on the bar again if he wants to talk, okay?”
“‘He’?”
That shrug again. “So when I told you I own this place, like I said, it’s complicated. The lease is mine, I run the bar, but, well, this is an expensive place to be running a business.”
“So this man,” said El. “He’s coming here now? And he’s the owner? The man?”
Rob nodded. “It’s no big deal,” he said. “He’s a good guy. It’s just a matter of running the place like any other evening, okay?”
She hadn’t seen him like this before. Edgy, nervous, trying to make out that this was no big deal when it clearly was.
She was getting close, all of a sudden. Just by putting herself in the right place at the right time she was getting close!
§
Now, every time someone new showed up at the bar’s entrance, El studied them carefully. An elderly couple in shades and sun hats. A group of twenty-somethings, drunk already. All of them holidaymakers or expats.
Then three men came in, one in dark linen trousers and an untucked, short-sleeved white shirt, the other two in black jeans and t-shirts. Surely that must be him? He looked like he owned the place, and the other two looked like hired muscle. But no, Rob took one look at them and ignored them, leaving Lucy to seat them at a table over to one side of the covered area. Whatever dodgy business they were here on, it didn’t seem to be anything to do with Rob.
By eleven it was clear the mysterious owner wasn’t going to show up.
“Change of plans?” El asked, as she collected another tray of drinks from the bar.
Rob shrugged, and gave that easy smile of his. “Happens sometimes,” he said. “Busy guy. No big deal.”
The place was heaving tonight. Every table was taken for most of the evening, and there was standing room only at the bar. Nights like tonight they needed double the staff. It wasn’t until after midnight that things started to ease, and then, abruptly, by shortly after one the place was almost empty.
“Well damn, but that was a good evening,” said Rob, taking a stack of notes from the till. Then he cracked that grin at El and said, “Maybe now’s the time for that drink. What do you say?”
Inge had gone already, and Lucy was just threading her way through the tables to leave.
“I... maybe,” said El.
He took that as a ‘yes’, and leaned back to grab a bottle of Smirnoff and a bucket of ice.
“Show you something?” he said, turning back to face her. Then he laughed, and added, “It’s okay. It’s cool.” And with that he stepped past her and led the way out of the bar, only pausing to roll down the front canopy and hook and zip it into place.
Instead of heading up into town, or either way along the paved promenade, he led the way through a gap in the iron railing and out onto the silver-white sand. Now, in the darkness, the sand had taken on an almost eerie glow. Beyond, the sea was dark, the crests of the occasional low waves glinting pale in the light from the town.
“I love it like this,” said Rob, turning right when he reached the edge of the water. “It’s suddenly a different town. Peaceful.” He reached into the bucket and withdrew a glass full of ice, then paused to pour vodka for El, before doing the same for himself.
She took a drink, and the blast of icy alcohol made her eyes water. There was something decadent about drinking vodka neat like this, but the ice took the edge off it and it seemed somehow right.
“So what did you want to show me?”
He stopped and turned to face her, and for a moment she thought he was going to take that one step to close the gap and kiss her.
Instead, he hooked the bucket over the arm holding his drink and with his free hand he waved in a wide sweep to indicate the town.
She turned to look. Most of the beach-side strip of restaurants and bars was in darkness now, save for a few night-lights, and a
bar that was still open and lit like a casino. Beyond, lights stacked up the hill away from the beach. It was almost geological, that layering of lights in strata; rock formations that followed the contours of the land. Further still, and the lights petered out, leaving just the looming dark shape of the hills that formed the backdrop to the town.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
The effect of the town’s lights was totally artificial, yet the way it delineated the landscape was so dramatic, a rugged thing, almost. El looked at Rob, and his features were picked out by the lights, almost as the landscape was. “You wuss,” she said, and carried on walking.
He laughed, and caught up with her.
“So where are you from?” she asked, getting in before he could start questioning her.
“Stow-on-the-Wold,” he said. “Exotic, huh?”
“Pretty,” she said. She’d been there with friends a few years ago, an attractive little market town in the Cotswolds, all golden limestone walls, cottage gardens and wonky buildings. She paused to remove her shoes, then stepped past him to walk in the surf. The water was surprisingly cold, given the heat of the day, and the sultry mugginess of the night air.
“Is that what you’re running from?” she asked. “Chocolate box villages and BMW drivers?”
The question appeared to throw him, then he nodded and gave a brief laugh. Earlier, he’d told her everyone was running away from something.
“Nah,” he said, joining her in the waves without bothering to remove his canvas sneakers. “Just... you know. Too many bad choices, I guess.”
He moved up the beach and flopped down on the sand, leaning back on his elbows.
El stood before him, looking down at him. He should be on a beach in Thailand, or Goa, or Australia, with his lazy, rugged look and his lean surfer’s body. “Your accent,” she said, pressing him. “You don’t sound like a Gloucestershire boy.”
He shook his head, peering back up at her. What was in his head just then? Was he studying her as she had studied him? Was he trying to work her out?
“I left when I could,” he said. “Went to art school. Yes, that’s probably why I take a girl like you out to see the lights and the hills: the artistic temperament, darling. Dropped out, went traveling. Spent time in Nepal and Kerala, then found my way to Australia. Traveled the Queensland coast, working in bars and campsites, lived in Gold Coast for a while and then ended up down in Sydney. I found a place in Cronulla, a little bar like La Taberna, only with a cook who really knew her seafood. The snappers and calamari really were to die for. Bless Inge, but... you know what I mean?”
“You still haven’t told me what you’re running from.” She dropped to sit beside him, knees drawn up to her chest.
“You take that kind of thing for granted, don’t you?”
“What kind of thing?”
“Twenty-three years old. Running your own business in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Beautiful girlfriend who just happens to cook the best salt and pepper squid you’ve ever encountered. You don’t realize that’s something you have to fight to hold onto. You don’t realize just how easy it is to wreck it by acting like any other twenty-three year-old boy who doesn’t know when he’s got it good. Guess I hit the skids after that. You don’t know what it’s like to lose everything.”
She said nothing. Instead, she drained her glass, crunching on the last of the ice and then reaching for the bottle.
“So you’re running from a broken heart?” she said, after a time.
“You make it sound romantic,” he said. “When in truth I’m just running from a big fuck-up.”
“So how did you end up here?”
“Friend of a friend,” he said. “Guy I met in Oz. Put me in touch with the guy who owns La Taberna and here I am, in charge of a bar that’s not a patch on my first one and running all kinds of shitty errands to pay back favors... Sorry: I’ll stop bitching. I didn’t bring you out here to complain about my lot in life. All in all, it’s pretty good, you know.”
For a time there, she’d forgotten everything. All the weight had lifted from her frame, all the anger and the burning resentment. There was just the gentle lapping of the waves, the lights of the town, the surrounding darkness, the soft tone of Rob’s voice.
She still couldn’t claim to really know Rob, but... somehow it was hard to believe that he was any more than a bit player in all this. A front for the bar’s real owner, a guy who runs errands because nobody would ever suspect easy, laid-back Rob.
He was watching her. Those silver eyes glinted in the light spilling down from the town.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, out of the blue.
She looked away, down towards the water.
“Lucy said it wouldn’t be long before you made a pass at me.”
“Can you blame me?” He had turned onto his side now, propped up on one elbow, still studying her.
“You need to take your time with me,” she said, surprised at her own words. He didn’t need to take his time, he needed to stop. She couldn’t do with this kind of complication.
“Sure,” he said. “Something to do with the shit you’re running from?” He didn’t know how close he was to the truth with his damned smooth talking.
And so much for taking his time: he took that moment to lean in, put his hand to the side of her face and press his lips softly against hers. It was a brief, chaste kiss, and so incredibly tender and intimate because of that: the press of lips, the touch of his hand, and then he withdrew, leaned back on both elbows, tipping his head up towards the stars.
She took another drink, a deep breath, and held both before swallowing and then exhaling.
“So who’s the man?” she said, after a time. “Why the drama about him visiting this evening?”
Rob shook his head. “You really don’t want to know,” he said. “You know I said I got here as a result of too many bad choices? Ever hooking up with him was probably the worst of them all.”
“That sounds dramatic.”
He sat up now, and drained his glass. “Maybe so,” he said. “Maybe it’s just the vodka and the late night talking. But I’ll tell you one thing: you don’t ever want to get dragged into his world, you hear?”
“Is that what happened to Keira?”
Silence. Those silver eyes studying her again.
“It’s just... one of the girls said Keira had been ‘noticed’ – I wasn’t sure what that meant. I wondered...”
“Best not to do that kind of wondering, okay?”
He stood, hooked up the bucket in one hand and offered his other to El. “It’s late,” he said. “I’m sorry. Just tired, I guess.” That smile again, but this time it looked distinctly forced.
She took his hand and allowed him to draw her up to her feet. He wouldn’t meet her look now. Had she pushed too hard?
They walked back up the beach to the promenade and then back the short distance to La Taberna, silent.
At the zipped up doorway of the canopied frontage they paused.
“I’m sorry,” said El. “I didn’t mean to–”
He raised his hand to her cheek again. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s just... Some of the stuff I’m involved in... Like I say, I’ve made a few bad choices and drifted into a life I’d never have anticipated. I like you, El. I like you one Hell of a lot. But you have to understand: if you go asking the kind of questions you’ve been asking you’re going to end up in a lot of trouble. There are some seriously bad people out there.”
Was he threatening her? Warning her? Or merely trying to explain his responses?
He probably didn’t even know, himself, she thought. She had been right earlier: he was just a bit-part player in something way bigger, and for the first time she had a real sense that she might be blundering into something a long way out of her depth.
She pressed against his hand on her cheek, then stretched up towards him and kissed him softly. Just as brief and chaste a kiss as before and, if anything,
even more intimate and loaded with promise because of that.
Then she turned and slipped through the narrow opening in the canvas and turned to zip it closed.
6
Rob went AWOL again the next day. There was no sign of him when they opened up, which wasn’t unexpected. But then as the lunchtime rush built up, and it was still just the El, Lucy and Inge, it became clear that he was unlikely to show.
Dropping one order off in the kitchen, El paused and said to Inge, “So no Rob today?”
“He called,” said Inge, and it sounded as if she would have left it at that if El hadn’t loitered and caught her eye again, prompting for more information. “He’s been called away,” she added. Then: “So he hit on you, did he?”
El shrugged. “He might have tried,” she said.
“No surprise.”
Inge clearly wasn’t going to tell her anything more, so El returned to the bar, where two more tables had filled up already. It was going to be another busy one.
§
He was away all that day and most of the next, and El had to clamp down on her growing sense of frustration.
Most of the time it felt as if she was getting nowhere, and it gave her plenty of time to think. When she was inside, she’d had all the time in the world to think and plot, but now, here on the ground in a foreign country surrounded by the complications of real people, everything seemed so different.
Second thoughts? No: that would be a betrayal of herself. She couldn’t abandon the one thing that had got her through the last two years. She had to see this through.
But she remembered that sudden sense that she might be getting out of her depth.
There are some seriously bad people out there.
She did her best to shut out those thoughts. They would do her no good at all.
The next day was just as busy, and now she fully understood Lucy’s frustration at Rob’s approach to running La Taberna. Back on El’s first day Lucy had said he treated it ‘like a pastime’, absent more often than he was there. So most of the time it was just Lucy and El out front. It was only a small place, but when the tables were full and the customers were lined up at the bar it needed more than just the two of them.
