by C.J Duggan
Chapter Twenty-Three
My mind was reeling as I tried to think of all the possible reasons I needed to be pulled aside.
Was he unhappy with my work? Was it about hanging out in the bar after hours? Was I fired? I felt sick.
The beer garden was a grapevine-infested Amazonian jungle, dotted with tiki torches and picnic tables. A rather exotic refuge if I didn't readily associate it with Uncle Eric's passive chain smoking. It was his own kind of sanctuary; where he sat with his coffee, paper and cigarettes when the day allowed him to get away from the bar. A place where he and his poker buddies sat in the evening, gambling and smoking cigars.
A brick BBQ and vine-covered gazebo sat in the corner and was a nice space, even though the area needed a desperate blower-vac. Today was slow and calm with Chris covering in the bar, while Uncle Eric led me out to his refuge at an umbrella-decked table with his coffee in hand.
The day was warming up, but I wasn't sure if it was truly hot or if it was my nerves that made me flush as I took a chair opposite Uncle Eric.
"You enjoy working here, Tess?" He tapped a cigarette from his pack.
I gave it a brief thought; I guess I did, now that I thought of it. I was both pleased and surprised by this revelation. I seemed to have found my feet now, even knew what I was doing ? kind of.
But why was he asking? I squirmed in my seat. Maybe I wasn't doing as well as I thought; maybe Chris had reported back one of my earlier calamities.
"Relax, Tess," Uncle Eric chuckled. "Don't look so worried. I hope you enjoy working here, you've been a real asset to our staff."
My shoulders slumped with relief.
"Thanks, I really do like working here. It was a bit hard in the beginning when I was trying to get my head around things, but I like to think I'm not making too many mistakes."
"You can't learn if you don't make mistakes." He flicked his ash in the ashtray. "You seem to fit in very well."
I smiled. It was nice to hear these things.
"You seem to get along well with Chris's friends."
My smile slipped a little. "Yeah, they've been really nice to me."
He took a deep drag of his cigarette. "They're good boys."
His gaze then flicked to mine. "Sean Murphy is a particular fan of yours, I hear."
My smile was all but gone, and I could feel the colour drain from my face.
Flicking another ash, he sighed. "There's not much that gets past me, Tess, there isn't much a publican isn't privy to. Though I don't tend to listen to much idle gossip, when something concerns me, I listen. I'm not going to give you a fatherly lecture, or pull the boss card on you, Tess. I just want you to be careful. I know that this is your first job and it's all new and exciting. But these boys, these young men," he corrected, "however nice they may be, well, they'll have different expectations compared to the high school boys you're accustomed to. They won't settle for hand holding for long, and I don't want you to feel pressured into anything you may regret. Not on my watch."
"You don't have to worry, Uncle Eric, we're just friends. It's not like that."
"I see the way you and Ellie look at the boys. I don't expect you all to be saints, I just don't want to see anyone hurt, or do something they'll regret. You're a good girl, Tess. I wouldn't want anyone to take advantage of that."
I'm sure in years to come I would look back at this and be grateful for his concern, but right at that very instant I was looking for the closest way to escape. He must have sensed my unease because he allowed me a reprieve.
"So I'll see you back here at six, then?"
I nodded with my best 'nothing weird just happened' smile.
"Thanks, Uncle Eric, see you later."
I shot to my feet and as I was nearly home free, he said, "Tess?"
I paused, cautiously turning at my name.
"If you need to speak about anything, me or Claire are always happy to listen."
I wanted to die.
There was a certain amount of discomfort from having your boss assume you were having sex when you weren't actually having sex. Now every time Uncle Eric looked at me, I knew that was somewhere in his head, and that idea freaked me out. The only thing that would get me through the evening shift was the fact that Uncle Eric retired early, otherwise it would have been Mission Avoid Uncle Eric's Knowing Eyes.
I entered the poolroom like a zombie, perching on a bar stool next to Ellie.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Oh, nothing. I'm just tired. I might head home, catch up on some sleep before tonight."
After all the buildup and enthusiasm for knocking off to hang with the Onslow Boys, all of a sudden I didn't want to be anywhere near them. If that was what Uncle Eric was thinking, what would others be? When Sean had defended me against Scott, I thought it was heroic, awe inspiring; to be honest, a bit of a joke. But now the news had travelled and to, of all people, my boss, it somehow didn't seem so funny anymore. I felt ill.
As a group of tourists flooded the poolroom, I took the opportunity to sneak away. I didn't even speak to Toby or the boys. Ellie said she wanted to stay a bit longer, her nervous gaze constantly flitting to Stan. I nodded, distracted, as Uncle Eric's mortifying words repeated through my mind.
