by Emma Powell
Rich raised his right hand in salute. ‘Yes, boss!’
He grabbed a tray, a bottle of Perrier and three glasses from the bar where he quickly hi fived his best mate Ben, the bar manager.
‘Nice to see you slumming with us workers buddy,’ Ben teased.
Rich waved him off with a smile, then collected a wooden board with bread and olive oil from the kitchen pass, giving the kitchen team a loud ‘Ciao’ on the way through, and made his way to table four.
He reached the table of three, only to find that they already had their water and bread and had started on their charcuterie board. He apologised to the ladies for the interruption and glanced around the room trying to remember the layout. It didn’t take long for him to realise that he had it back to front. These women were on table sixteen and he was at the wrong end of his service area. He was so used to looking at it off the plans from the windows in, instead of out.
He felt jittery and took a deep breath to centre himself. The tray of water and glasses was feeling heavy – he was not waiter-fit, that’s for sure. He could knock out fifty push-ups at a time and bench press a hundred kilos, but his forearms weren’t happy.
He counted the tables until he hit on table four and made a beeline for it. Right on the window it had the best view of the vineyards and rolling hills. Sitting at it were two women and a guy. The guy looked up as he was approaching and smiled at his table companions, giving the redhead next to him a nudge.
She turned to say something to the guy, giving him a light punch on the shoulder and laughing.
As soon as Rich saw her profile and heard her laugh, his arm shook, making the glasses clink against each other. It’s her. It’s actually her. Get your shit together Rich. But it’s her. Rich wasn’t a religious person – which his mum never knew and if she had it would’ve broken her heart – but if he was, he would have thanked God for bringing Laney to him.
He was finally at the table, standing beside her. The guy was looking him up and down and talking to him, but Rich wasn’t listening. The other woman was fussing with the table to make room for the bread and water and Laney just stared ahead at the view. She had no idea he was there. Maybe she did and just didn’t remember him? She probably just thought he was any old waiter. Oh, please Laney don’t be that sort of person who ignores the wait staff. That’s not who you are. You’re better than that. I know you are. Laney…look at me. Laney. Laney.
‘Laney.’ That came out loud.
She looked up.
Laney
At Ryan’s insistence – Nerida called it begging – Laney stared out of the window. He was having a conniption over the waiter who was heading towards their table.
‘Oh, my gawd. He’s hot. He’s hot. He’s hot.’ He grabbed Laney’s face in his hands before she could look and turned it towards the view. ‘Now Lanes, straight ahead, ignore him because I want all of his…attention.’
According to him, waiters always paid attention to her and he didn’t think that was fair. She had punched him and reminded him it was her birthday and she deserved the spotlight. Ryan then actually begged her to give him the first few minutes at least.
She hated ignoring waiters. It was so rude and bourgeois. She promised herself she’d apologise once Ryan gave her the all clear.
Then she thought she heard her name being said over and over. It wasn’t Nerida, she was doing the mum thing and making room in the middle of the table for the food delivery and Ryan was having a one-way conversation with the waiter, something about did he have a girlfriend or perhaps a boyfriend. Ryan was confident, there was no doubt about that. The waiter, standing right next to her, smelled of a familiar savoury, edible aftershave.
There it was again, her name. It came from the waiter, she was sure.
She looked up.
Into his eyes.
Oh, so blue.
‘Rich?’
‘Laney?’
Ryan sat forward in his chair. ‘Rich?’ he sing songed, his chin resting in his hands, looking from one to the other. His eyes twinkled as if someone had placed a bowl of chocolate-chip-cookie-dough ice-cream in front of him. ‘Ohhh, what fun.’
Nerida shot him a calm the farm look as she reached up and eased the breadboard out of Rich’s hand. She was hungry.
Nerida’s action seemed to jolt Rich out of his paralysis.
‘You’re…you’re…you’re…’
‘You’re hot?’ Ryan finished the sentence, eyebrow raised and lips pursed.
Laney finally came to and gave Ryan a harder than normal slap on the shoulder.
‘Ouch, that hurt.’ Ryan rubbed the spot, forcing his lower lip to tremble.
‘You’re here.’ Rich finally got the words out, and a smile covered his olive-tanned face.
Laney shifted in her seat to face him and threw her hands up. ‘Surprise!’ A blush crept up her neck as she realised that it probably looked stalky that less than a week after being his Uber driver she turned up at his winery. ‘It’s a surprise birthday lunch from these two. I had no idea. If it was up to me, I would’ve chosen Chandon.’
Nerida, her mouth full of bread and balsamic, stopped chewing and Ryan threw his hand over his open mouth.
Rich’s smile dropped back to a polite grin as he placed the water glasses on the table and jammed the tray under his arm to open the Perrier, which hissed its disapproval when he turned the cap.
Laney knew she had to pedal back her gaff. ‘I mean…oh…sorry…no…it’s so lovely. You’re beautiful. It’s beautiful. Oh.’ She dropped her head into her hands. It was not going well.
Ryan giggled and Nerida took a sharp intake of breath, which was a shame because she still had a mouth full of bread. She let out a violent cough and a piece of bread flew out of her mouth, across the table, hitting Ryan fair square in the middle of his forehead. He recoiled as if a bee had stung him. His squeal echoed that sentiment.
His hand flew up to his forehead, ever the dramatic, feeling for damage. ‘Oh my God! Nev! Ewww.’ He grabbed his serviette, dipping the corner into the glass of newly poured sparkling water and wiped his brow.
Laney tried to decide whether her perfect surprise birthday lunch was turning into a horror film or a slapstick comedy – maybe both. She glanced up at Rich who was looking down at her with a grin, his eyes sparkling with amusement. It was hard to stay grim when Nerida and Ryan were around, that was for sure. Laney smiled at Rich then turned to Ryan.
‘Oh, buck up, sunshine. It’s a surprise you felt anything at all what with all the botox.’
‘How very dare you!’ Ryan squealed. ‘I felt it in my very soul.’
‘Yeah. Your arse ... hole,’ Laney exclaimed, making all of them crack up.
Nerida coughed again, a smaller one this time. ‘Guys, please wait til I’ve swallowed.’
‘But honey, I’ve heard you never swallow.’ Ryan snapped his fingers with his usual celebratory glee.
They were all laughing when Dee interrupted them, tapping Rich on the shoulder. ‘Ahhh señor, sorry to interrupt. The kitchen is backed up with orders for your tables. Can I help here, perhaps?’ She peeked down at Laney as if she knew she was the culprit.
Rich cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. ‘No, thanks Dee. We just had an issue with the…ahhh…bread. All sorted.’
‘Very well.’ She ran her hand down onto his bicep that strained through the shirt, and gave it a light pat. ‘Table sixteen are ready for their il seconde.’
She raised her chin and sniffed, her brow knotted with concern. ‘Argh, not the polenta again.’ She looked at Rich and nodded as if to say ‘Let’s go’, then turned on her comfortable heels and hot-footed it towards the kitchen.
‘Are you in trouble?’ Laney looked up at Rich. In the light of day she could see the small smile lines fanning out from the corner of his eyes and the beginnings of creases in his brow, showing a thoughtful, curious person. She doubted he needed a 50+ sunscreen as he had been genetically blessed with olive skin, gifted through generation
s of sun-kissed Italians. She couldn’t even look at the sun without getting third-degree burns, thanks to her Irish and Celtic ancestors, who were more used to eating carbohydrates in the cold than sopressata in the sun.
Rich held her gaze, and she sensed his breath quickening. ‘Yes, Laney. I’m in trouble.’ A wave of longing flashed across his face. ‘Big trouble.’
Rich
He’d watched Laney blush and grab the menu, pretending to flick through it until she realised it was upside down. Snapping it closed, she lifted her chin in defiance and bore into him with her beautiful hazel-flecked eyes.
‘I’ll have the gnocchi, thanks, mister waiter.’
‘Will that be the gnocchi alla sorrentina or the burnt butter and sage, lady madam?’
He could tell she was enjoying the exchange by the slight upturn at the corner of her mouth. Other than that, she had turned on a haughty, holier than thou attitude, British accent and all.
‘Which would you recommend?’ she threw back at him with a tilt of her head.
‘Oh, come on, guys. I’m starving. Flirt over dessert,’ Nerida huffed, unaware she’d just managed a nice little rhyme.
‘She’ll have the burnt butter and sage.’ Ryan raised his hand as if in a schoolroom.
Laney rolled her eyes at them and dropped the facade. ‘Yes, the burnt butter please, Rich.’
He knew she was ordering gnocchi but the way her voice had dropped into her solar plexus and hummed its way into his body he was sure she’d said Make love to me, Rich.
He heard Ryan order the lamb and the antipasto. And he even heard himself recommend the barramundi to Nerida, but it was like someone else was doing it. He was outside his body and inside Laney’s.
When he’d told Laney he was in trouble, he knew he was in deep do-dos. The kind of trouble that duels were fought over. The kind of trouble where heroes died for their lovers. The kind of trouble his mother had always warned him about.
‘Get a girl who will look after you, Tesoro. Who will give you lots of bambini. But make sure she is plain, like gnocchi, or you will have to have war over her. Personality, yes. Pretty, no.’
She had taken his face in both of her weathered, hard-working, grape-picking hands and kissed his forehead. He was eight years old. The very next day he went to school and ignored pretty little Suzanna who he had a crush on. With his mother gone five years, Rich still could not shake her well-meaning but terrible advice…until now.
Laney had both looks and personality. He hoped his mum would’ve approved.
‘How would you like a birthday tour of the property after lunch?’
‘Oh yes, please,’ Ryan gushed, clapping his hands.
‘I think he means just Laney.’ Nerida raised her eyebrows at Ryan as she dipped the last piece of bread into the olive oil.
He did only mean Laney. ‘No. All of you, of course.’
Laney smiled up at him. ‘That would be amazing. Thanks.’
He smiled back and resisted the yearning to lean down and kiss her. ‘Deal.’
A crash of glass echoed across the dining area.
‘Taxi!’ Ryan shouted, making diners at the tables closest to them laugh.
Rich whipped his head around to see where it had come from. ‘Oops, I’d better go or I might have to give myself the sack!’
He forced himself to leave her side and as he headed to the bar, he sensed her eyes on him making him smile.
‘Since when did breakage make you smile Richy Rich?’ asked Ben.
‘Since now, mate.’
‘Jesus, mate. What’s going on?’ Ben bent to sweep up the glass with a shovel and brush.
‘I don’t wanna put a jinx on it, Ben, so I might just keep it to myself for a bit.’ He reached for a broom and helped with the clean-up.
Ben looked up from his chore. ‘What’s her name?’
Rich continued sweeping. ‘Why would you assume it’s a woman?’
‘Is it a bloke then?’
‘No! Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Each to their own.’
‘Hashtag equality.’ Ben lifted his brush into the air in a gesture of solidarity and bits of broken glass fell onto his head. ‘Shit!’
Rich laughed at his mate. They’d been friends since primary school. After Ben got his Responsible Service of Alcohol licence, which was ironic because there was nothing responsible about him, he’d disappeared for a few years. He’d backpacked around Europe and the US and had finally returned, broke, but with enough experiences to last him a lifetime.
He also had no qualifications to his name so Rich had given him the job of head bartender at the winery and he was still there three years later.
Rich shook his head at the memory. ‘What are you still doing here mate?’
‘My shift doesn’t finish until eight and if you hadn’t noticed, we’re packed today.’
‘I didn’t mean here here. I meant here, bartending still.’
‘Like I’ve said before, I don’t care what I’m doing, I just care who I’m doing it with.’ He winked at Rich as he dropped a shovel of glass into the bin, tinkling to the bottom.
Rich nodded, still not convinced. He knew his friend, and he knew he was one of those people who well and truly had the travel bug. He hoped he wasn’t hanging around just for him. ‘Ok mate, whatever you say.’ He finished sweeping glass residue into a pile for Ben to collect. The ding of the service bell jolted his memory about there being a backlog of dishes in his service. He leaned the broom against the bar. ‘Sorry, gotta feed the masses.’
‘No worries mate. Oh, and can’t wait to meet her.’ He winked at Rich again then bent to pick up the last remnants of glass.
Rich laughed and made his way to the kitchen pass where plates of food waited to be delivered to hungry diners. He drew a deep breath, trying to expel Laney from his mind just for the moment so he could make sure he did his job properly. It didn’t work. Laney was stuck in him. He just hoped he was on her mind too.
Laney
Laney watched Rich walk away. She’d never seen his bum before because it had been on her passenger seat the last time she’d seen him and she hadn’t watched him walk off because it was just too difficult to see him go.
She was glad she watched this time and shifted in her seat as a hot wave of desire, beginning in her abdomen, tingled its way down to in-between her legs. It wasn’t a totally foreign feeling, it had just been a long time. She hoped her friends wouldn’t read her mind. She was sure they could, they were so close and knew everything about each other.
She thought about how it would feel to have him lying over her, naked, as she grasped that backside, and guided him towards her.
Ryan rudely interrupted her thoughts by clapping his hands at her. ‘Why. Did. You. Not. Tell. Us. About. Him?’
Laney turned to face the music. She raised her hands in submission. ‘There was nothing to tell.’
‘Didn’t look like there was nothing to tell,’ Nerida reprimanded, as she picked up the ramekin and mopped up the remnants of the balsamic olive oil with her finger.
Laney ignored how unrefined that was, considering Nerida had just demanded Ryan act like a five-star person.
‘Out with it, young lady,’ Ryan insisted.
‘He was a passenger. That’s all.’
‘Obviously that’s not all.’ Ryan gave her arm a flick.
Laney flicked him back, hoping to distract him. But when Ryan got locked onto something it was hard to get him off it. Just ask his last disaster of a boyfriend Neville.
‘He was not JUST a passenger. Laney Gallagher. Did you fuck him?’
Nerida and Ryan leaned forward in their chairs.
‘No!’
Ryan looked her up and down. ‘But you want to?’
Laney leaned into Ryan. ‘Well, don’t you?’
Ryan nodded. ‘Touché, girl. Touché!’
‘He for sure wants to fuck you Lanes,’ Nerida whispered, still going hard on the olive oil.
‘Like you want to fuck that ramekin?’ Laney leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, well pleased with her comeback. It even left Ryan speechless as he zipped his lips and threw away the key, giving Laney a finger click as praise.
Nerida dropped the ramekin back on the table. ‘Like I said, I’m starving and I skipped breakfast because of this lunch but I didn’t think it would take this long.’ It looked like she was going to cry.
Laney leaned towards her and held her hand. ‘I’m sorry Nez. I’m sure the food will be here any minute.’ She looked behind her and, as if on cue, Rich was striding towards them with an antipasto platter in one hand, a wine bucket in the other and a bottle of wine tucked under his arm.
When he arrived at the table, Laney felt the air around her charge with ions and eons and all the other ons that created electricity. He leant across her to place the platter on the table and his shoulder brushed against hers. She heard him take a sharp intake of breath and she was sure they all heard her utter a soft groan as desire came literally flooding back.
She didn’t know how she would get through the lunch without being arrested for indecent exposure because all she wanted to do was rip off her top and her bra and have Rich find her nipples with his mouth and go to town.
To quell her thoughts, she watched as he set up the wine bucket on the stand and pull out the bottle from under his arm. It was the same Chardonnay he’d left under the passenger seat.
He presented it to the table, but mostly to Laney. ‘Happy for me to pour?’
‘Oh, thank you but we were going to do wine by the glass…a bit exxy on our actory budget,’ Nerida piped up, ever the pragmatist.
Rich ignored her and untwisted the bottle top. ‘This is on the house.’ He glanced down at Laney and smiled. ‘Like the other one.’
Ryan raised an eyebrow and mouthed to Laney, The other one?
So he did leave it on purpose. She couldn’t wait to tell her mum.
Laney revelled in watching Rich’s muscles working through his crisp white shirt as he poured wine into each glass. The deep gold colour of the chardonnay was perfect.
