The Boys of Summer (The Summer Series) (Volume 1)

by C.J Duggan

  Chapter Thirty

  I was so tempted to call in sick, to avoid the rest of the weekend and everyone in it altogether.

  But Chris could have eyed the beer in my hand last night, combined it with my silence during lunch service, and it wouldn't take him long to conclude that I wasn't sick, I was hungover. He'd give me the sack for that, I just knew it. It was a tempting thought, to be honest. Maybe if I broke my arm, I would be sent away to my nan's house in the city for the rest of the summer. Not that I had a nan in the city, but still. I needed Adam. He could have cheered me up, especially in lieu of Ellie's and my heated debate at lunch.

  After a catnap, I showered and had a quick bite to eat. Although I felt human again, I didn't feel much better until I started getting ready for work. In the process, my self-pity morphed into determined resilience as I stared hard into the mirror.

  I opted for a cute little top and skirt. If I was going to face an audience, I was at least going to do so looking hot.

  As I walked into the bar that afternoon, I had on my best happy-go-lucky face and flashed the customers a winning smile and false confidence that had everyone fooled. Mostly everyone knew me by now, and I was always greeted with either a 'Tess!' or 'McGee!'.

  Days of Tic Tac Tess were light years away. I couldn't believe that used to be my biggest problem: a stupid nickname by an immature boy.

  I hung my bag up behind the door. Ellie's bag was already there. I was still mad at her, but it would take far more energy to keep up the silent treatment than to be civil. She couldn't rain on my parade anymore, because I simply wouldn't confide in her about my love life. I knew that would hurt far more than the silent treatment, even though, in its own way, it was kind of the same thing.

  Ellie was still on edge around me as if she wasn't wholly buying the act, and I knew that if anyone could see through it, it would be her.

  Rosanna, Amy and Melba seemed to suspect something was amiss though I chatted animatedly to them about all sorts of things. Maybe too animatedly. I was over-the-top bubbly with the customers, and I even caught Chris giving me a confused frown. After a few hours, my face ached from all the smiling, and I was exhausted. How could Ellie stand this all the time? Being a wallflower conserved so much more energy. I let my smile slip for a breather as I gathered some cutlery for a table. Beside me, Ellie reached for some silverware for her table.

  "Toby's here," she whispered.

  And when I met her eyes, she smiled a small smile and then whisked herself away.

  Oh shit.

  I had no intentions of running to the poolroom, or even crossing his path at all if I could help it. Even though I had completely resented Ellie's advice, I knew there was something to it. I already felt like a big enough idiot.

  When Chris asked me to deliver a meal into the poolroom, I paused so long he thought I hadn't heard. I had heard alright. Even though the order of a single bowl of chips didn't have 'Onslow Boys' written on it, it didn't have to; to me, the poolroom was a no-go zone. Enemy territory. I had to woman up. The last thing I would do was get Ellie to run the meal for me, so instead I ran fingers through my hair, straightened my clothes, took a deep breath and grabbed the meal.

  It felt like every step I took was in slow motion. The achy melody of Portishead echoed from the poolroom as I dodged traffic in the front bar on my way. All of a sudden, I wasn't paranoid about dropping the plate or spilling the contents, I was just hoping that Toby might have been in the men's room when I delivered the meal.

  No such luck; I spotted him through the alcove, laughing at some bad shot that passed from his opposition. He leaned casually against the windowsill, pool cue in one hand, beer in the other. He didn't look hungover to me, I thought. As I paused, watching on just beyond the doorway, his eyes flicked up and met mine just as he was about to take a shot.

  My breath hitched at the acknowledgement; the first time since last night. The contact was broken when Sean heckled him to hurry up and take his shot. He did, making the white ball rebound on the cushion and pot the wrong ball.

  "Oooooh, two shots, son!"

  The poolroom filled with cheers and exclamations of shock at the rare occasion Toby made a mistake on the pool table. The boys pounded him with back slaps and ruffled his hair. He shook them off with a smile. My face felt on fire; he'd lost concentration because of me.

  I hurried into the poolroom, trying not to draw attention to myself while they were all preoccupied.

  It was then that I looked at the order. 'Bowl of chips' with an angry face next to it, in Ellie's handwriting. Then I realised why, as a group of Angela Vickers' friends sat around a barrel on stools, pursing their lips in disdain as they sat in the corner feeling superior.

  Awesome, I thought. Icing on the cake of a brilliant day.

  "Bowl of chips," I said in the friendliest way I could.

  Three sets of cold, angry eyes met me, all casting me a death stare.

  They begrudgingly moved their drinks aside for me to place the bowl down. I offered them another friendly smile and escaped while the going was good.

  Only to be stopped by a shrill voice.

  "Hey, bar-keep!"

  I turned, dread swept over me; the snarky comment had drawn the whole room's attention.

  My brow quirked in question as I met her gaze. Just try it, I thought. I was in no mood for her.

  The girl's manicured claw pointed to the chips.

  "We said chips and gravy."

  The docket didn't read with gravy, but the customer was always right, no matter how evil they were.

  "I'll grab you some," I replied sweetly.

  The blonde with her eyes a little too close together feasted distastefully on a chip.

  "And we said chicken salt, not ordinary salt."

  "God, who would have thought you would actually need a brain to waitress," Pencil Eyebrows scoffed.

  I bit the side of my jaw, ready to grab the bowl from the barrel and pelt them with chips when I heard a voice next to me.

  "Lay off, Jules." Toby lingered near the French door, chalking his pool cue.

  Pencil Eyebrows had a name, and now her death stare was focused on Toby.

  "Oh, I forgot that jail bait here was you guys' little pet. I guess you can't handle a real woman with a brain."

  "Which instantly rules any of you out," Toby added coolly as he blew the excess chalk off his cue and gave them a knowing smirk. Laughter and catcalls sounded in stereo as the Onslow Boys overheard the exchange.

  "Go fuck yourself, Toby."

  Jules stood up, chucking a handful of chips at him and stormed out, earning me three bumps in the shoulder. But that did little to upset me when I met Toby's gaze, and he gave me a wink.

  Sean slung an arm around my shoulder. "Never mind them, Jail Bait, they can't help it. They were born with chronic evil."

  I smiled at Toby. "You okay? You're lucky a wayward chip didn't take out an eye."

  He laughed then, the warm familiar one I loved to hear.

  "Could have been worse, there could have been gravy."

  I sighed, my attention moving towards the mess that had been dumped on the floor.

  I retreated for a dustpan and headed back in, ice broken by, of all things, a bowl of chips.