by Nina Kaye
‘That is nice. A good man like Dylan needs to find love with good chica.’
‘Totally agree. Right, shall we head off?’
We pick up our stuff, head out of the storeroom, and across the bar. As we’re nearing the door to the main hotel, Aaron comes striding through it.
‘Evening.’ He nods awkwardly as he greets us. ‘Just checking all was well with the close-down.’
‘Everything is fine, Mister Gardiner,’ Reyes confirms. ‘I have completed the cash-up and will sign in the keys just now.’
‘Good.’ He smiles woodenly at Reyes and then turns to me, arms behind his back as he towers over me. ‘All well with you, Liv?’
‘Yes, great.’ I smile at him genuinely. ‘Everything is great. Thanks to you, guardian angel.’
‘Gardeen angel?’ Reyes looks confused. ‘What is this?’
‘Guardian angel.’ I emphasis the word to help Reyes understand. ‘It means he’s looking out for me. He helped me once before, when I was at university.’
‘Ah, OK.’ Reyes nods her understanding. ‘Yes, Mister Gardiner, you are good hombre. You are good to Liv, and you are good hotel manager. The best I know.’
Clearly uncomfortable with this level of positive personal attention, Aaron stiffens slightly. ‘Right, well, I’m not sure I would put it quite like that.’ He clears his throat. ‘But I’m glad I could be of assistance. Glad all is well. Have a good night.’
With that, he disappears straight back out the door. Reyes and I look at each other and stifle a giggle.
‘That didn’t go down so well. I think he prefers to be the one in control.’ I bite my bottom lip, feeling a little guilty for making Aaron uncomfortable. ‘Oh well, he’s just going to have to get used to it. ’Cause, like it or not, I’m not going to stop being grateful.’
‘I agree.’ Reyes nods firmly. ‘A good man needs to know he is good man. Do you know if he has romancing in his life?’
‘Don’t even go there.’ I give her a warning look. ‘Aaron’s married with a kid.’
Reyes and I wander through the staff corridor and out into the dark night. It’s cool, but calm and refreshing after a long night in a hot bar. We chat lightly for a few minutes longer, then say our goodbyes and head in opposite directions.
As I walk along Newington Road towards the bus stop, I pull out my phone and see that Josh has replied. Letting out another involuntarily peep of delight at his flirty text, I immediately put my phone away again. He may have me hooked, but I can still pretend I’m not: by making him wait for a response. There’s no way I’m letting him hold all the power.
Chapter 18
The next morning, I wake groggily around ten. Feeling more tired than usual, I pull the duvet up to my chin, making the most of the cosy warmth. I decide I’ll just relax and enjoy the comfort of my bed for a while longer.
As I’m enjoying the indulgent feeling of not having to be anywhere, I allow myself to drift through the memories of the evening before last: my night with Josh still providing just as much enjoyment as it did at the time. Unfortunately, after reliving it couple of times – his scent, the lingering taste of gin on his lips, his firm but tender touch – my mind loses focus and wanders to less welcome thoughts, and soon I’m immersed in a full-scale assessment of my current predicament.
Where am I really? Failing in a career that possibly wasn’t right for me in the first place? Was it more the allure of the corporate world, that promise of prosperity and security? After a childhood of hardship: opening an empty fridge day after day, being teased for being so scrawny in faded, tatty clothes. I wasn’t the only kid from a deprived background, but probably the least nurtured and looked after. I remember the tutting of the other parents: the whispers of why social services hadn’t put me in foster care. They thought I didn’t hear, but I did. I wanted to put that existence behind me, to never have to go to bed cold and hungry again. What’s actually wrong with that?
I feel an overwhelming sense of vulnerability. Have I lost sight of why I made the choices I made? Allowing materialism to take over from my survival instincts so I could fit in. Living a false life in a way, with no real friendships. A tiny cog in a huge machine, where my projects could be halted and discarded like trash. I had a good, steady income that meant my kitchen cupboards were never bare, I could afford to have the heating on, and I had a secure roof over my head. I forgot how important that was.
Now I can count on two hands the number of weeks I have left before I’m homeless. Have I really tried hard enough to get my career back on track?
I lie there, torturing and berating myself for being such a failure and for taking things for granted – something I had promised myself I would never do. My irrational inner voice chides me cruelly and relentlessly until it’s interrupted by the alarm on my phone, set only to stop me sleeping till midday – which I might easily do after a long shift.
I pick up my phone to silence it and see I have a text from Dylan.
Hey Squirt. Hope you don’t mind, but I logged into your admin page to check your subscribers. You’ve just topped 2k! It’s moved faster than I expected. This is it. You’re gonna make money on this, but you need to be on it. Get another post done fast!
I stare at his message in disbelief. Two thousand subscribers? Since last night? How did that even happen?
It’s the kick up the backside I need. The rational part of my mind swoops in and grabs back control. I have done everything I can to save my career. I’ve applied for over thirty jobs. I’ve been to a mind-numbing number of interviews. I could never have stopped McArthur Cohen ditching me in the first place. They were responsible for that – not me. But now I have an opportunity, I’m going to damn well make it work.
I tap out a quick-fire response to Dylan to let him know I am indeed ‘on it’, then jump out of bed and head straight for the shower, my determination having returned with a vengeance.
Two hours later, I’m parked at my breakfast bar, tapping away furiously at my laptop. I’ve decided that, if I’m going to make this a success, I need a pipeline of content for my posts. In addition to having written the first draft of my next one, I’ve also got a list of ideas for others, based on the encounters I’ve witnessed in the bar.
Deciding I need a break, I get up and check my phone, and discover I have a text message from Josh – in response to the one I eventually sent just before going to bed.
Morning, beautiful. Will I be seeing you at work today? Wondered if you were up for that decider game of pool tonight? So we can get the competition out the way and just focus on us. :)
I smile at his message. Well timed, Josh. Had he sent me that while I was lost in my turmoil, I would probably have fobbed him off. Instead, I decide that his suggestion will do me a lot of good in two ways. The chance to kick his arse at pool will further fuel my determination; I’ll also benefit from the adolescent hormonal boost I get when I’m around him. I might even get some inspiration for my writing too.
As long as I stay focused on my blog and keeping a roof over my head, there’s no reason why I can’t enjoy a little bit of extra-curricular fun on the side (and Reyes would kill me if I ditched him anyway). Although I’ll wait a while before I let him know I’m in. I need to stay in charge, and I definitely don’t have time for lots of pointless messaging back and forth – no matter how much his texts turn me into a love-struck giggly schoolgirl. How is it that I can even be reduced to that?
As I’m pondering this thought, I remember what Reyes said the night before. I haven’t read or answered any of the comments on my site yet. I immediately hop back onto the bar stool and log into my admin page. Scrolling down the comments, I see that there are a few more than when I looked the evening before. I start straight away:
Tess89: Loving your choice of subject matter. Like reading a boozy romcom. Delicious!
MissGinFizz: Thanks, Tess89! Certainly sounds like your taste. More to come very soon…
TotalGinAddict: Great story! Tried yo
ur salad-gone-wrong. Great way to get one of my five-a-day. LOL. Thanks for the recommendation.
MissGinFizz: Love your username, TotalGinAddict. Seems like you’re the perfect audience for this. Thanks for subscribing. Hope you’ll stick around for more top tips.
SarahMcJ: Loved the underdog theme in this! I was rooting for the lad the whole way through. More please!! :)
MissGinFizz: I was too, SarahMcJ. Definitely more on the way. Stay tuned!
I plough my way through one comment after the next until I reach the final one:
GrahamLeeton: Simply inspired. You lit up the page with engaging, witty prose and had me hooked to the end. Obviously a very talented writer. Looking forward to the next.
MissGinFizz: Wow, thanks, GrahamLeeton! That is high praise indeed – talks to my mind and my soul. Hope I can continue to impress you.
As I hit submit on this last response, I climb off the bar stool and do a big stretch, feeling quite pleased with my efforts. Definitely a productive start to my day. Deciding I’ll finish and publish my second post the next day – once I’ve had some distance and can edit it with fresh eyes – I lean over and log out of my admin page, shut down my laptop. I then grab my phone from the breakfast bar and send a reply to Josh.
Game on. I hope you’re looking forward to getting your arse whipped. Enjoy your ego while you still have one. ;) xx
He replies within seconds.
We’ll see. I’m more than ready for you. Your mind games definitely won’t work this time.
‘Just you wait, pal,’ I mutter, then head to my bedroom to get myself and my inner-pool-shark ready for work.
Arriving at the hotel a short while later, I feel a flutter in my stomach as I realise Josh is here, somewhere in the building. I have no idea when he’ll just suddenly appear. I enter the changing rooms, take off my jacket, and hang it and my handbag in my locker. As I do, I miss the door opening quietly behind me, and nearly die of fright as a pair of arms slip round my waist from behind.
‘What the…’ I spin round and find myself face to face with Josh. ‘Josh, you idiot! I nearly knocked you out there. I had no idea who it was.’
‘Why, who else are you seeing in this place?’ He grins, wrapping his arms back around my waist, causing me to melt into a little puddle. ‘How are you, beautiful? I saw you arriving.’
‘I’m good.’ I try to wrestle out of his grip, paranoid that someone’s going to walk into the changing rooms and see us. ‘Looking forward to destroying you at pool.’
‘Is that right?’ His eyes are fixed on mine, his tone characteristically sexy and smooth. ‘So, do I not get a kiss? I’ve been waiting for this for two days.’
‘What if someone comes in?’ My eyes dart towards the door anxiously, my hangover from Clara still clearly having an effect.
‘So, what?’ He shrugs casually. ‘It’s not against the rules.’
‘It’s not?’ I’m surprised at this.
‘No. There’s no rules against the staff dating each other, as long as they keep it out of working hours.’ He glances down at his wrist. ‘And by my watch, I make it six minutes till our shifts start.’
I lean over and check his watch.
‘So it is.’ I finally start to relax. ‘Well in that case, I’m great. How are you?’
Instead of answering, he pulls me in for a long sensual kiss, his strong hands gripping me just at my lower back. It has the effect of enhancing the intimacy between us yet keeping to the same level of personal respect as the other night. We quickly become so completely lost in each other that neither of us notices the door to the changing room opening once more.
‘Hola, lovers!’ Reyes’s jubilant voice blasts through our passionate embrace, causing us to pull apart suddenly. ‘Do not stop romancing for me. I am very happy to see you together.’
Josh grins like a naughty teenager, while I bite my bottom lip apprehensively, my face flushed with embarrassment.
‘Well, I guess I’d better get to work.’ Josh taps his watch. ‘Time’s up. See you at break time?’
‘Can’t wait.’ I give him my best competitive smile.
‘Chica. Wow.’ Reyes walks across the room towards me once Josh has gone. ‘You are in love.’
‘What makes you say that?’ I ask.
‘You are kissing like this, and saying you cannot wait to see Josh. This is so much love.’
‘Sorry to disappoint you.’ I raise an eyebrow at her. ‘I meant I can’t wait to beat him at pool later. We’re playing our decider game tonight.’
‘I see.’ Reyes looks mildly disappointed, then perks up. ‘So, you are competing tonight. For all chicas, I am hoping that you will win.’
‘Me too,’ I say. ‘Otherwise I’ll never hear the end of it.’
‘Ready?’
It’s three and a half hours later, and Josh has just swung by to announce that it’s game time.
‘I’m ready.’ I plonk a Negroni and a Tom Collins on a tray for a waiting Amir, and make my way out from behind the bar.
‘Buena suerte! Good luck!’ Reyes calls from the other end of the bar. ‘Do not let the chicas down.’
‘Thanks, I don’t intend to,’ I call back, as I head towards the door to the main hotel with Josh.
As soon as we’re in the staff corridor at the back of the hotel, Josh steals a little kiss and takes my hand, threading his fingers through mine. While it feels wonderful, and in any other place I’d be more than happy with this attention, I’m still uncomfortable with the idea of being seen by other staff. Particularly by Aaron, whose reaction I couldn’t even begin to anticipate. With these thoughts circling my mind, I walk close to Josh so that if anyone comes, I can hide the fact we’re holding hands.
‘How’s your shift been so far?’ he asks me.
‘Good.’ I smile up at him. ‘Every shift has been good since Clara left.’
‘I bet.’ He chuckles. ‘It might seem a bit selfish, but I’m so glad she’s gone. On top of her being a pain in the arse, it would have made it much harder to snare you with her evil eye on you all the time.’
‘I think I would have been too scared to even look at you, for fear of getting the sack.’
‘Well, thankfully you don’t have to worry about that now.’ He squeezes my hand reassuringly. ‘Amir is much more chilled out.’
‘He really is.’ I nod agreement. ‘Don’t think I could have a better boss.’
We reach the staff canteen, and wait in a small queue, before filling our plates, and finding a seat at the back of the room near the pool table. We chat easily while we eat, the banter flowing steadily, the chemistry crackling between us through flirty exchanges. We seize any opportunity for the slightest bit of physical contact, Josh being far less discreet than me.
Once we’ve finished our food, Josh sets up the pool table. As he does, I give myself a silent pep talk. I can do this. I can beat him. I’ve done it before.
‘Challenger breaks.’ He hands me the cue.
I chalk it well and make my way to the end of the table. Taking a deep breath, I lean over and line up my shot, all too aware that my break will set up the game, putting me either at an advantage or a disadvantage. I must not mess this up.
Letting the pool cue run smoothly through my fingers, I test my angle several times. Once I’m satisfied that my aim is razor sharp, I focus my gaze on the target, ready to take my shot. Everything is perfectly set up. However, just as I’m about to follow through, I glance up at Josh involuntarily. He’s standing at the other end of the table, his face etched with concentration, making him look even hotter than usual. Momentarily distracted by this sight, I switch into autopilot, and before I know it, the white ball is careering towards the triangle of red and yellow balls.
‘Oh, shit!’ I cry out instinctively, as I despondently watch the balls rattle around the other end of the table.
It’s not a terrible shot, but nothing goes in the pockets, meaning Josh has the upper hand.
‘Oops.’ He cr
inges a little on my behalf, as he takes the cue from me. ‘What happened there?’
‘Hand slipped,’ I mutter, unable to look him in the face, and furious at myself for allowing my emotions to hijack me like that.
Josh sizes up the options on the table and – fully calm, composed and self-assured – sinks three red balls in a row. Watching him expertly work his way round the table, the bottom falls out my stomach. How on earth will I gain back that ground?
I breathe a sigh of relief when he misses on his fourth attempt, but Josh simply shrugs and hands the cue back to me. He’s trying to keep a poker face, but I can tell that he’s pleased that he’s ahead.
I step back up to the table and weigh up my options. Come on, Liv. Do not let him win, and if you do, at least don’t let it be because you were too busy lusting over him, you idiot. Focus. How you perform in the next ten minutes is a symbol of your ability to get yourself out of the bloody great sinkhole you’ve fallen into in your life.
As the determination not to fail floods my body, my focus returns. I quickly and confidently pot two yellow balls, before missing a third. It still leaves me behind, but not by much.
We continue to take our shots, passing the cue back and forth, neither of us saying a word. We’re committed to one thing only: we both desperately want the win.
Eventually it’s down to the black ball. We take it in turns with carefully calculated shots: aiming for our designated pockets, while tactically trying to create a difficult shot for the other if we miss. As my turn comes round once again, I see I have a good opportunity to take the win. It’s not the most straightforward shot, but I know I have a good success rate with this angle. Taking my time, I line up the cue and do a few practice run-throughs. Then, when I’m ready, I follow through with exactly the right speed and precision.
I hold my breath as I watch the white ball make its way down the table; this is no longer just about beating Josh. It’s the metaphorical summing-up of where I’m headed next in my life. And it’s like someone has hit the slow-motion button.
