CONTENTS
Time And Time Again – Chantal Fernando
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Epilogue
Also by Chantal Fernando
The Broken Pieces of Us – M. N. Forgy
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Acknowledgements
Contact M. N. Forgy
Also by M. N. Forgy
TIME AND TIME AGAIN
Copyright © 2014 Chantal Fernando
All rights reserved.
Published December 2014
Cover design © Arijana Karčić, Cover It! Designs
Edited by Erinn Giblin
Formatting by Max Effect
All rights reserved. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any form without prior written permission of the publisher, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.
TIME AND TIME AGAIN is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and events portrayed in this book either are from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, establishments, events, or location is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. Please do not take offence to the content, as it is FICTION.
Trademarks: This book identifies product names and services known to be trademarks, registered trademarks, or service marks of their respective holders, The authors acknowledges the trademarked status in this work of fiction. The publication and use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Three weeks.
It’s been three weeks since I lost my job. Cuts had to be made, and I was the youngest and had been there the shortest. It wasn’t as though I loved my job at the hotel, but it paid the bills. Now, I am in desperate need of another job. I’ve applied everywhere I can think of, and I’ve even been to two interviews, but nothing. My resume isn’t that impressive. I finished high school and was hired straight away as a receptionist at Western Hotel. I’d been there for two years before they fired me, and it was the only work experience I had. I was living pay check to pay check, and now my rent is three weeks overdue. My landlord gave me one more week before he would kick me out. I had no savings or credit card. In other words, I’m screwed.
I suppose I could always go back to one of my parent’s houses, but I don’t want to. They live in Melbourne, which is on the other side of the country, and I have no intention of going back there to see them any time soon. Standing up from my seat on the bus, I walk to the exit and hop down the step.
“Thank you,” I call out to the bus driver then make my way down the street. I was wearing a professional looking outfit. At least I thought it was. A black, knee-length pencil skirt hugged my hips and matched my crisp, white shirt that didn’t show too much cleavage. My red hair was pulled away from my face in low pony tail, and my complexion was make up free aside from some mascara and eyeliner rimming my green eyes. My heels make a clicking noise as I scan the shops, bars, and restaurants, looking for a help wanted sign or anything that could give me some hope. I was down to my last fifty dollars, and it wasn’t looking good. I’d been surviving on two-minute noodles, fruit, and tap water for far too long, and it had begun to take a toll on my once curvy figure.
That is the least of your problems, Clara.
Buying a newspaper as I walk past the newsagency, I take a seat on a bench and skim over the employment ads. Pulling a pen from my handbag, I circle a few of the job positions I think I could manage, most of them being reception or retail work. I don’t think I’d be very good at sales, but I am good at customer service. Sliding the newspaper under my arm, I walk into a few businesses and ask if they’re looking to hire anyone. Three say no, and one says maybe, stating they will give me a call. Feeling hopeful, I head to the closest coffee shop to splurge on a latte. After paying the cashier, I take my warm drink and walk back towards the bus stop. As I’m leaving the coffee shop, however, I bump into someone.
Or did he bump into me?
My latte falls to the ground, splashing both of us on the way down.
“Shit,” I mutter, the newspaper under my arm falling too. Wiping my hand down my now, not-so-crisp white shirt, I lift the material away from my skin so it doesn’t burn me.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” comes a deep, masculine tone.
I look up into a pair of dark eyes.
“It’s okay,” I mutter. “Just seems to be the month I’m having.”
He runs a hand over his shaved head. “Your shirt is ruined.”
“I’ll live.”
He reaches down and picks up the newspaper, glancing at it before handing it back to me.
“At least let me give you my shirt,” he says, staring at the stain on my left breast.
I raise my eyebrow. “You going to walk around shirtless then?”
He smirks. “Not quite.”
He pulls off his black shirt, revealing a white wife beater underneath.
Holy muscles.
My eyes grow wide at the sight of his broad shoulders and ripped biceps, and I couldn’t help but notice a flash of his smooth, hard chest through the thin material.
“I didn’t know they made them like this in real life.”
“What?” he asks amid a soft chuckle.
I snap out of it. “What? I didn’t say anything.”
His lips kick up at the corners as he hands me his shirt. “It’s not necessary.”
“You looking for a job?” he asks. “I might be able to help.”
I glance up at him in suspicion. “What kind of job are we talking about here?”
He grins at that, rubbing his hand over his goatee. I never liked goatees, but on him, it was hot. Everything about him was. “Nothing like what you’re thinking. Bar work. Why don’t you come in tomorrow night and we’ll see what we can do?”
“Really?” I ask, unable to mask the hope in my voice.
His eyes soften. “Yeah, really. You ever heard of Knox’s Tavern?”
I nod. I had heard of it. It was meant to be one of the best bars in Perth.
“Come find me there tomorrow afternoon,” he says, taking a step back. “Ask for Tag.”
“Thank you,” I reply, clutching his shirt to my chest. “I really need this job.”
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asks, studying me.
“Clara.”
“Clara,” he repeats. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I swallow hard. Could it really be that easy?
I didn’t have anything to lose; that was for sure. A bar was a safe, public place, so nothing could go wrong.
I watch as Tag swaggers away, probably unaware that he just made my year. Smiling to myself, I head to the bus stop.
Maybe my bad luck was about to change.
*****
It’s a Thursday night, so I don’t anticipate the bar being too busy.
I was wrong.
Feeling nervous, I fiddle with the sleeve of my
black t-shirt as I enter the bar, my gaze scanning the establishment. When I see Tag serving at the bar, I walk in his direction. He smiles when he sees me, calming my nerves a little.
“Clara,” he says. “Wait there just a second.”
He serves two more customers then returns to me. “Spoke to my boss. Are you looking for day shifts or night?”
I look around. “It’s open during the day?”
He nods. “Reid and Ryan just turned it into a bar slash restaurant during the day, so it’s open from nine AM until late.”
“Either is fine,” I reply. I’ll take anything I can get.
“But you would prefer…?”
“Day…,” I say, quickly adding, “but night works too though.” Catching a bus home at night isn’t exactly ideal, but I’ll do it if I have to. I won’t even complain.
Tag’s eyes narrow almost imperceptibly, but he nods once. “Day shifts would be Tuesday to Saturday, nine until four. Would that work for you?”
I nod, trying not to jump for joy. “That would be perfect.”
“How old are you?” he asks, tilting his head to the side and thrumming his fingers on the bar countertop. “I probably should have asked that already. Fuck, I’m a shit interviewer.”
I try and hide my grin. “I’m twenty.”
His eyebrows rise. “That’s… young.”
“Why? How old are you?” I ask. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s twenty-four, but I’ve never been good at that sort of thing.
“Twenty-six,” he replies, lifting his chin and saying hello to a customer as he walks by the bar. “So you can start tomorrow, if you like. Wear all black, and bring in your bank details for me tomorrow. Any questions?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m good.”
I watch as a beautiful woman walks up behind Tag. He looks down at her and wraps an arm around her.
“Summer, this is Clara, our new employee. Clara, this is the boss’s wife, Summer.”
“Nice to meet you,” I tell her, flashing a smile that she returns.
“Welcome to the mad house,” she says, giggling. “Tag, you can have a smoke break if you want.”
He nods. “Good idea.”
He steps out from behind the bar and nods his head towards the exit. “You sticking around for a drink or going home?”
“Going home,” I reply.
“Come on then. I’ll walk you out.”
I say bye to Summer then follow Tag outside. He leans back against the building wall, one foot up in a casual position. Pulling out a packet of cigarettes, he lights one up and takes a drag. I check out the tattoos covering his arms, wondering what each one means to him.
“You smoke?” he asks.
“No. I better get going.”
He nods and glances over the car park. “Which ride is yours?”
My cheeks heat, but I don’t know why. I’m sure many people my age don’t own a car. “I took the bus.”
He drops his leg from the wall, his eyes darting to me. “Why didn’t you say something? I would have picked you up.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s five o’clock. I still have an hour or so before the sun goes down. I’ll be fine.”
“Fuck that,” he murmurs. “How far do you live from here?”
“About fifteen minutes. Not too bad.”
“I’ll give you a ride. Stay here,” he demands, putting out his cigarette on the wall and throwing it in the trash. He then heads back inside the bar. Rubbing my arms, I wait a minute before he returns, keys in his hand.
“Come on, Clara,” he says, nodding his head towards a white four wheel drive. “If you ever need a ride, let me know, okay? I’ll give you one home after work too. I’d take you in the morning, but I have to drop my daughter off at school tomorrow and then you would be late.”
My head snaps to him. “You have a daughter?”
I don’t know why, but that little fact surprises me.
He unlocks the car with the press of a button then opens the driver’s side door. “I do.”
Is he married? I ignore any disappointment I feel because it has no reason to be here.
My apartment isn’t in the best neighbourhood, but it isn’t in the worst either. It is a small, one bedroom unit. To most, it may not seem like much, but it’s clean and it works for me. I have some awesome neighbours too.
“I know these apartments,” Tag says, glancing up at them through the window. “Knew a girl who lived here.”
I could only imagine how he “knew” her.
“Thanks for the ride. You didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.”
He rests one hand on the steering wheel and turns his body to me. “Couldn’t let a pretty thing like you go home by yourself.”
I roll my eyes at him. “I’ve managed thus far.”
His mouth twitches. “Never heard a woman say ‘thus’ before. Do you want me to walk you in?”
“I think I can manage,” I reply in a dry tone that makes him laugh.
“Give me your phone.”
I hand him my phone, and he presses buttons. “Now you have my number. Call me if you need anything, alright?”
I nod. “Sure. Thanks again.”
I get out and close the door, making sure not to slam it. When I walk up the first floor’s stairs to my door, I turn to see him still waiting there for me to enter. I open the door then turn to wave at him. Only then does he pull out of the car park. Smiling to myself, I lock the door behind me.
*****
I catch the eight AM bus the next morning and arrive at Knox’s at eight twenty. I walk past the bar and sit on a lonely bench, wasting time before my nine o’clock shift. My stomach growls, but I ignore it. I don’t know when payday is, but I assume it will be a week before I see any of the money. I need to save what little I have for bus fare. Last night, I ate toast and an apple for dinner, and the same this morning. My fruit supply, however, is now gone, so options for dinner tonight will be limited. On the bright side, next week I would have money for whatever I need. I left my landlord a note asking if I could pay him then. I wouldn’t be able to pay it all off, but some of it at least. I hoped he found it in his heart to let me. I would pay every cent off of course, as soon as I was able to.
“Are you Clara?”
I turn to the masculine voice, instantly standing up. “I am.”
The man smiles easily and puts out his hand. “I’m Ryan.”
“Nice to meet you, Ryan. Thank you for the job,” I blurt out to the handsome man. Thank you for the job? Did I even definitely have the job?
Ryan’s lips kick up at the corners. “You’re welcome. Tag wouldn’t have it any other way. Come on. Let me show you the ropes.”
I follow him inside the restaurant section of the bar where twelve tables await customers.
“Have you ever waitressed before?” he asks, studying me.
“No,” I reply, licking my lips. “I worked reception at a hotel in my last job. But I’m a fast learner. You won’t be disappointed. I promise.”
I really needed this job. Was waitressing and bartending experience necessary? Tag hadn’t even asked my employment history. Was he about to send me home? I sure as hell hoped not.
Ryan’s brows furrow imperceptibly. “It’s okay. Experience was preferred but not necessary. Let me talk you through everything.”
He explains what he expects of me. It all seems easy enough, and I’m confident that I can do the job without any issues.
“You won’t be alone today,” he says, smiling gently. “There will be two other girls, so you don’t have to worry. There won’t be much pressure on you.”
What an awesome boss.
“I think I’ll do fine.”
“So how do you know Tag?” he asks after showing me how to use the cash register.
How do I know Tag? It’s simple—I don’t.
“We kind of ran into each other,” I reply. “I’ve only met him twice now.”
Ryan looks confused but doesn’t
say anything else on the matter. The restaurant opens, and the other waitresses start their shifts. Sally, a blonde who tells me she is a thirty year old single mother, helps with any questions I have. Lyla, an older woman who appears to be in her forties and has a real motherly nature, checks in with me to see how I’m holding up. Great boss and wonderful staff. I really was lucky to get this job.
“Did you take your break?” Ryan asks as I bring some dirty plates and cups to the sink.
I shake my head side to side. “Not yet.” It was twelve o’clock. I was hungry, and working around all the delicious looking food wasn’t helping.
“You get half an hour. And grab something to eat. Staff get lunch every day for free. There are sandwiches, wraps, muffins, fruit, and that kind of thing.”
My stomach grumbles, and Ryan flashes me an amused smirk. “Hungry are we?”
I was starving.
Free lunch? Every day? I could kiss Tag.
“Thank you,” I reply in a low tone. He didn’t know how much this meant to me, but holy fuck. Something must have given how I was feeling away because his expression softens.
“It’s nothing. All employees get lunch. Now go and eat and relax for a while. And grab whatever you want to drink.”
I smile gratefully then head to the pre-made sandwich selection and choose one—chicken and salad. I grab a Coke and a muffin too.
Best. Job. Ever.
*****
“Thank you,” I say softly to Tag as he drives me home after my shift.
“You’re welcome,” he replies, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. “You having a hard time with something?”
I sigh and turn my head to look out the window. “Just a string of bad luck, is all.”
“Hmmmm. When’s the last time you had some fun?”
I tilt my head to the side, trying to think.
Tag chuckles. “If you have to think that long, it can’t be good. I have an idea.” He takes a U-turn and heads in the opposite direction of my apartment.
“Where are we going?” I ask in suspicion.
He flashes a grin, showing off his straight, white teeth. “Surprise.”
“I don’t do well with surprises.”
I can’t remember the last time I had a good one. The last time I was surprised was bad. Like, really bad.
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