by Brenna Darcy
Already after three, the last thing Flic wanted to do was get ready for work. Meeting with Lacey and Mim meant she’d have to leave early, and she wouldn’t have time to get her few hours of writing in before her shift started.
Not having to wear the same dull clothes when working for Lacey would be a much-appreciated change. Dressed in her usual black and white, Flic twisted her hair into a loose roll at the back of her head and secured it with a clip. Applying some makeup she noticed a change in her appearance in the few weeks since she’d arrived. Looking in the mirror, the beginnings of a tan gave her a healthy glow, her skin no longer grey from lack of sun exposure. Even her eyes looked brighter, a definite hazel rather than the dirty pond colour they’d taken on, as a reflection of her mood.
Not wanting to be cooped up in her car Flic decided to walk. It wasn’t far and the roads were well lit at night.
Flic found Mim sitting in the restaurant reading, and recognised the book as one of Dave’s.
She didn’t want to disturb her, so walked over to the table as quietly as possible, Mim almost jumped out of her seat when she glanced up and saw Flic approaching.
“Sorry, he certainly drags you into the thick of the story, doesn’t he?”
“Hi Flic. Yes he does.”
“He was one of my favourite authors.”
“Was?” Mim arched one eyebrow. Flic was fascinated how she managed to do so voluntarily, having tried many times and failed as both eyebrows insisted on going up together.
“Still is I suppose, but now that I’ve met him—” She didn’t continue, instead shrugged.
Mim frowned. “There’s more to him than you realise.” Closing her book she placed it on the table, Dave’s image facing up. “Don’t be too quick to judge him. Women always do. There was a lot of truth in what Doris said the other night, even if she was a little out of line.”
“I’m sorry, but he irritates me, which isn’t fair because I don’t know him.” Flic stopped. She shouldn’t be discussing Dave with Mim, they were obviously close and not much of what Flic had to say about him was positive. “He’s a brilliant storyteller.”
“Yes, but I’d like to hear more about how he irritates you. Why do you think that is?”
“Because once he’s in my head he occupies too much space.”
Mim smirked. “Sometimes they call that something else.”
Lacey burst through the door. “Sorry I’m late.”
Flic wished she’d been a few minutes later so she could find out what Mim was referring to, although she doubted she’d tell her. Again, Dave was clouding her head, and it didn’t help that his sister was pulling up a seat, talking none stop, and Dave being the topic. Flic wanted to put her forehead on the table and bang until something other than He occupied her thoughts.
Mim laughed, her focus on Flic as if reading her mind.
Lacey stopped. “What’s so funny?”
“Maybe you should ask Flic, from the look on her face I imagine she has a lot of something going on in her mind—perhaps she could elaborate for us.” Mim stood up, not even trying to conceal her laughter. “Can I get you anything before we start?”
“I’d appreciate a cold drink thanks Mim, it’s warm out.” Lacey placed a hand on Flic’s arm. “How are you this afternoon?”
“I’d say claustrophobic—would I be right?” Mim laughed again.
Flic scowled at her. “Very funny.”
“I’m sorry can someone explain what’s going on, I’m confused.” Lacey slumped back into her chair with no idea what they were talking about.
Flic shook her head. “Nothing, honestly.”
Carrying a tray of drinks and plates of food over to the table, Mim’s laughter turned to a giggle. “Flic’s got the hots for Dave,” she teased.
“Very mature, Mim.”
Lacey beamed. “Oh, I hoped so.”
“Lacey it’s not true, she’s joking.”
“I think there’s chemistry, and even denial can’t change that.”
“Oh yeah, the type of chemistry they use to construct nuclear bombs, the only outcome an explosive disaster. We came here to talk about work, although I imagine Dave wouldn’t be anything less than a challenge.” Flic regretted the comment as soon as she said it. “I’m sorry Lacey, that wasn’t fair.”
“No it wasn’t.” Lacey only able to keep a straight face for a moment, released a loud burst of laughter.
“You two are cruel.” Flic picked up one of the bottles of pink grapefruit juice, opened the lid and took a long swig.
“Is your novel a romance? You’ve found the perfect leading man, broody and mysterious I think you called him.” Mim continued to tease, but Lacey stopped laughing.
“You write?”
Fabulous. Flic rolled her eyes, liking the Dave topic better than the current one.
“Not really.”
“Yes she does, every day. I can’t wait to read it,” Mim said, removing the cling wrap from the antipasto platters she’d made up earlier, and then emptied a bag of salted peanuts into a bowl.
“What are you trying to do to me, Mim?” Flic didn’t want to continue the discussion, at least not with Lacey. As if she didn’t feel intimidated enough already. What would Dave think when he learned of her ridiculous dream to become a writer.
“You should join the critique group Dave facilitates.”
“Lacey, Mim’s over generous as usual. I merely dabble. I’m not in your brother’s league and doubt I’ll ever be.”
“You sell yourself short. Besides some of the members haven’t written more than a letter. It’s not for professional writers, he helps people who want to tell a story and do it well.”
“That’s kind of him, but I don’t think my writing, or self-esteem is ready for critique yet.”
“Okay suit yourself, keep it in mind. I’ve been a few times and it’s actually helpful.”
“You write too?”
“Only Poetry.”
“Only a poet would say only poetry.” Flic tried the art form as a means of self-expression, instead wasted her time on an emotional mash of words not suitable to share with anyone.
“Well ladies as much as the writing world fascinates me, from a readers perspective anyway, we open in fifteen minutes,” Mim announced, serious for the first time since they arrived.
“Of course, this shouldn’t take long. You have Flic Friday, Saturday and Sunday evenings, yes?”
“Yep, when do you want her?” Mim smirked. Obviously there was more going on in her head than she was willing to share.
“How does Tuesday and Thursday work for you Flic?”
“Suits me.”
“Too easy. That’ll leave you plenty of time to write—and fantasize over Dave.” Mim let out a roar of laughter as she stood and walked away, taking her drink with her. “I’ve got a call to make. See you tonight, Lacey.”
“Ignore her. She’s hoping Dave finds someone she approves of, is all.” Lacey smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes as usual, and Flic noticed a sadness she’d not witnessed in her.
“I’m sure he’ll find someone suitable when the time is right.” She tried for convincing, despite her doubt.
“You’re a lousy liar, Flic, even you don’t think he will. I’m worried because women never give him a chance, not the nice ones anyway, and he deserves the best.”
“He has to want it too, and when he does he won’t have the ten layers of razor wire and a neon warning sign flashing keep away bound so tight around him.”
“You’re right. He needs to acknowledge reality long enough to realise he spends too much time trapped in an existence where he is the creator and not a character, if you know what I mean.”
Flic nodded. “What I love most about writing is becoming part of another world, as though nothing in this one exists.”
Lacey looked at her for a moment, but didn’t speak. Picking up the tray she went to leave then stopped. “Give him a chance, Flic, you’d be surprised how similar
you are.”
“Similar, maybe.” Flic stood and pushed her chair under the table. “I’ve got nothing left to offer. I don’t want children, or a husband—hell I’ve already got one of those I can’t get rid of. I’m making plans to work for you and Mim, yet I have no place to rent. I’m unreliable, and that’s not what he needs.”
Lacey nodded. “Fair enough. I better get going. He and Ty are probably waiting for me. I’ll see you later, okay?”
She’d upset Lacey, which bothered her, but they couldn’t expect her to solve Dave’s dry spell between relationships. An intelligent and good-looking guy, when he wasn’t grumpy, which was most of the time, didn’t need to be set up for a date.
Justification aside, she had work to do. If last Friday was any indication of what she had to look forward to, she was in for a late night.
BY THE TIME LACEY ARRIVED with Ty and Dave, the restaurant was packed, and Mim was turning customers away.
“Don’t worry, this won’t last long, the concert at the pub starts at half past eight,” Mim announced, as they passed each other on the way to the kitchen.
“That’s a relief.” Flic didn’t stop to chat. Tim was working at top speed. No sooner did he receive an order, another was filled. His attention to detail was not compromised in the rush, every meal served with his usual artistic precision.
“I love it when we’re challenged like this.” He loaded plates with delicious smelling meals.
“Speak for yourself, I’m ready to collapse.”
Tim winked. “You’re still quick, so save the collapsing for a little later and all will be well.”
Three plates at one time, she took the order to the waiting table. On the way backed to the kitchen she stopped a moment to check in with Lacey. Ty was probably hungry and she’d not taken their order.
“Mim sorted it, we don’t mind waiting. I forgot how crazy it gets in here when there’s a concert in town.” Lacey looked relaxed amongst the chaos.
Even Dave seemed to be enjoying himself. Perhaps the dining alone thing wasn’t good for anyone’s self-esteem, even someone as successful and confident as he.
“So Flic, Lacey tells me you escaped the big city to write a book.”
“I would hardly call Perth a big city, honestly Dave, you need to get out more often.” Flic deliberately side stepped around the question, however felt her cheeks heat, embarrassed that they’d been talking about her.
“When can I read it?”
“You? Never.”
The order bell sounded, putting an end to their conversation. Saved by the bell all right.
“You’re not being fair about this, you’ve read all mine.”
“Just because you choose to be so free and easy, exposing yourself to whoever happens to pick you off a shelf, doesn’t mean we’re all that way inclined. Enjoy your meal.” With a smile, Flic turned to greet and seat the new arrivals standing at the front desk.
Her smile faded when she recognised the man to be a former work colleague of Jason’s. They hadn’t been close, or spent time together outside of work, but enough that Flic remembered his name to be Ross, and for recognition to register on his face. He’d attended Ellie’s funeral alone, Flic never met his girlfriend, and despite her initial reaction pretended like she’d never met him before either. She could only hope they didn’t have a reservation, giving her an excuse to turn them away.
No such luck.
Showing them to a table at the far end of the restaurant, Flic handed them each a menu. “Can I get you something to drink, whilst you’re looking over the menu?” Ross had been Jason’s drinking buddy at work get-togethers. She didn’t have to ask to know he’d have an order to place. During their previous encounters he was too drunk to remember her name. She was guessing, at the moment, she was familiar to him, but couldn’t quite place how he knew her. With the way the woman pawed at him across the table, he wasn’t likely to do anything to jeopardize his chances and ask if he knew her from somewhere.
After taking their order, Flic turned to leave.
“Before you go,” Flic glanced over her shoulder. “Can we have a bottle of water too, please?”
“Certainly.” Flic walked away as quickly as she could, trying not to look obvious in her attempt to escape.
Perhaps if she kept them happy, giving no reason to take notice of the insignificant waitress, she’d be fine.
By the time she reached the bar she was shaking. Pouring proved an impossible task, spilling more than she managed to get in the glass. Over compensating as she tried to make up for lost alcohol, they couldn’t accuse her of making a weak mix. Placing the drinks on a tray, along with a jug of water, she picked it up. Still shaking too much, she set it down again. Taking a deep breath in, hoping to calm her self as it wouldn’t be long before Tim rang the bell.
What did it matter if Ross remembered her or asked questions she didn’t have to answer. So long as he kept his mouth shut if he caught up with Jason. The thought sent a fresh wave of panic through her. Surely he and Ross didn’t keep in touch. Jason hadn’t liked him much anyway—said he was all right to drink with, but the guy was a sleazebag.
The order bell rang. Still unstable, but aware she had to deliver their drinks before escaping to the kitchen.
“I’ll do that.” Flic looked up. Dave was standing in front of her.
She shook her head.
“Don’t be stubborn, gin and tonic and a beer to the guy who should be home with his date, and not out in public, right?”
She attempted a smile, but was still too rattled. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”
“No problem. Tim’s not a patient man.” He nodded toward the kitchen as the bell rang again, then raised his eyebrows and laughed.
Flic liked to see him act his age rather than the grumpy old man he portrayed.
Picking up the tray, he left, and Flic rushed to the kitchen.
“Sorry Tim, it’s crazy out there, and even more so in here, I bet.”
“You’d win then, honey.”
Flic picked up the order. “I’ll be right back.”
Mim walked into the kitchen. “Why are my customers serving drinks?”
“He insisted—do you think he’d consider a career change?”
Mim laughed. “I’d have to sell the place to afford him.”
“Who’s serving?” Tim wanted in on the joke.
“Dave.”
Flic didn’t wait to hear his response, but a roar of laughter echoed down the passage.
Returning to the kitchen, Flic wasn’t feeling any better.
“Mim, if you get a chance before I do, table twenty three hasn’t ordered yet.”
“I’ll take care of it, you can wait and carry those out once Tim finishes off. Are you okay?”
“Just the start of a migraine I think, but I’ll be fine.”
“If you can hang in for another twenty minutes we’ll be quiet as a baby sleeping.”
For the next twenty minutes Flic didn’t stop taking out orders, tending the bar, or clearing tables. All the while thinking of comments Ross could make in front of her unsuspecting friends. Nothing could be as bad as the ugly scene Jason would create if he came looking for her.
Dave didn’t come back to the bar, but she sensed he and Lacey watching her. Trying to avoid eye contact, she hoped they’d keep their distance. Ross too. He sat with his back to the bar, his focus on his date.
Who’d she been kidding thinking three hours from Perth would wipe her off the radar so she could relax and start afresh? Her mother warned her she couldn’t run from her problems. She’d been naïve to think Jason wouldn’t find her. How could she stay and make a life for herself when, within two weeks of arriving, she had reason to be looking over her shoulder.
How likely was it that Jason would run into Ross at a pub, or bottle shop close to home? Flic was willing to bet the odds were greater than him stumbling across her working the weekend shift at Mim’s.
“Are you okay Flic?” Lac
ey had a habit of sneaking up on her, she moved so quietly.
“Just a little tired.” Flic hoped Tim would save her by ringing the bell. She wasn’t in the right headspace to be making conversation. “Can I get you anything, dessert or a pot of tea?”
“That’d be lovely, but no rush. Ty will want dessert for sure—his favourite part.”
The bell rang.
“See to the kitchen first, Tim’s a bit impatient sometimes.”
Flic laughed despite her mood.
Mim had been right, of course, and twenty minutes past eight saw the restaurant deserted, aside from a few stragglers, including the cause of her concern.
She busied herself resetting tables and stacking the dishwasher, letting Mim tend to the customers. Mim had suggested she go home to get some rest. As tempting as the offer was, she wouldn’t leave Mim, not with the restaurant in such a state.
“I’m fine. I’ll get some order happening whilst you deal with the people.”
Mim smiled, and pat her on the arm. “You’re a sweetie,” and went to speak with Dave and Lacey.
It didn’t take long to return the restaurant to its usual charm. Leaning forward, she loaded glasses into the bottom rack of the dishwasher.
“Excuse me.”
Flic jumped, dropping the glass she’d been holding, which fortunately didn’t break.
“Sorry to startle you, can I grab another beer thanks.”
Ross.
“For sure.” Her voice was too high-pitched—too eager. She straightened, washed and dried her hands before grabbing a beer from the fridge, removed the cap with a bottle opener and handing it to him.
“Thanks.” He turned to walk away, then paused. “By the way, dinner was delicious.”
“I’ll pass that on to the chef,” she said as he walked away. Flic glanced over and caught Dave watching her. She smiled as if all was fine, but inside she shook like jelly.
