by M R Field
“The Day You Come.”
Powderfinger
ROBBIE
Melbourne
Present day, Spring
Start a business, they said.
It would be great, they said
What a load of stressful bullshit, I said.
I sighed as I turned the steering wheel of my Subaru into the dimly lit car park behind the club. My club. The wheels crunched across the asphalt as it rolled slowly into the park. Turning the ignition off, I stared ahead as the headlights illuminated the grey back door for a moment. This was where everything would hopefully fall into place. Where a half-brained idea I’d had three years ago, would finally take shape. In one month, the doors would open to the public. Was I ready? Fuck no. Did I want this more than anything? You bet your arse I did. It was too late to back out now—and I had never been a quitter. I had signed on the dotted line and was now a proud business owner. This club gave me a sense of purpose, and as the adrenaline charged through my veins, I pushed aside thoughts of the other mundane parts of my life to allow it to take hold and bask in the small sense of accomplishment.
After spending the evening at a dinner for my sister, Trice, who was celebrating finishing her dancing degree, I was eager to get a bit of alone time. Getting the finishing touches completed in the club was the key to keeping my mind in check. All the parts were coming together including Trice choosing to be part of an entertainment duo with a small jazz band to perform on stage here, rather than taking a position at a professional academy. Seeing my sister’s radiant smile when I asked her reinforced that I was doing the right thing. Even if my initial intentions were far removed from just giving my sister a job.
In the building stages, I had a stage built to cater for her duo. The sole purpose of this club in the first place was all for a woman who had stood on the cusp of my mind for the past four years. This woman was Trice’s now dance partner, Hazel, I had used a weak moment in her life to lure her back to Australia after she had spent four years away. Was I arrogant? Absolutely. Did I hope to finally win her attention? You bet. Was it working? Nope. Instead, I spent the evening at a dinner in close confines with her, and the wall that she forged between us had me seated in agitation. I needed a breather. I needed to reassess what I had to do. Especially after the recent clusterfuck.
Opening the car door, the crisp night air sent goosebumps along my forearms. Way to go, Melbourne—tan us during the day but freeze us at night. This four seasons in one day bullshit was a bit much. Spring had been a welcome change from the blistering cold winter we’d had this year, yet by evening, the cool temperatures continued to linger.
I shake my frustrated thoughts from my mind and turn my attention to focus on what the builders achieved today. But mostly, as much as the formation of this club all initiated from the idea of having her here, right at this moment, I need some space. I am too close to her. I can’t trust that I won’t try to touch her. To feel her soft skin under my fingertips. To watch that blush stain her cheeks as she smiles at me before glancing away. Fuck. This torrential wave of lust has been all consuming for a long time. But now, I just want to get in there and block her out. She consumes my thoughts, channels my dreams and sends me into a whirlpool of pent-up confusion. I adjust myself in my jeans and will my cock to calm down.
Being at the club each day is taking its toll as well as distracting me from her. Double- and triple-checking things while also second guessing everything. I had bought the chaise lounge and so far, my plan was to jazz it up, utilise the rooms out the back and have entertainment. I also had gone in over my head. I had no idea about the setup of the lounge itself, how it could operate effectively. My course at uni didn’t really seem to prepare me. But I’m a stubborn arse who is determined. Determined to win Hazel over, ever since that night years ago where I’d screwed up—it’s haunted me.
My phone chimes from my pocket, and for a moment, I pulse in excitement. Instead of retrieving it, I choose to ignore it. After all, it is late and usually a text this late is from her. I need to distance myself, even if it’s for a moment. I liked her, man did I like her, but the chase of trying to get her was wearing me down. If it wasn’t her and it was urgent, they could just contact me later. Yep. Tell yourself that. Any excuse to avoid another rejection. Soft cock.
I allow my phone to linger in my pocket, while I try not to second guess why she is messaging. Ugh. Enough. Made my point. I like a girl enough to make me second guess myself while also lingering on the edge of being a love-sick lunatic. Forget about her tonight. I walk to the back of my car to retrieve a slab of glass tumblers.
I’m my own worst enemy—maintaining close contact with her while we continued to message each other like the fools we were back in high school. Almost six years of text messaging jokes, daily antics and general thoughts. Our messages tallied up more than what I sent to my own best friends. She knew my fears and I knew hers. We had a close and secret friendship. She was my sister’s best friend, but realistically, she was also mine. Friends, she had no problem with us being. Anything else? Not a chance. Any talk of anything further and that wall would shoot up quicker than the blink of an eye. But I was determined. Not tonight, but soon. When my Nonna had asked me, “When are you going to bring a nice girl home?” I’d always respond with, “One day, Nonna, as soon as she’ll let me.”
Carrying a slab of tumblers to the back door of the club, I chuckled at the cases and cases that were already stacked inside. How many glasses does it take to keep the patrons’ thirst quenched? A shit load. Taking on a new business with no experience was an idiot move, but I was up for the challenge. Good ol’ me wanted to make an impact and prove myself.
My gut had tightened when I’d first seen the For Sale advert for this place, but did the financial burden of another property stop me? Nope. Instead I saw a risky business opportunity and I jumped on it. After slaving away in the mines up north for a few years and earning a fuck-tonne of cash, I secured the lounge easily and I was able to put my business degree to good use. Before my mind caught up, I’d signed, deposited and sold my soul, all for a woman—Hazel, who had my heart at twenty. Before then, she was a pretty enigma that I flitted around with to make her blush. That night years ago, when she sang to me, knocked me on my arse without a second thought.
This club was my desperate attempt to secure her, get closer to me. To get her to return to Australia and give up her miserable life in the UK for a club job. It all looked promising until a few weeks ago, the night of Trinity’s party … the undeniable chemistry between us was as potent as it had been after her performance years ago. I was sure she would realise it too, especially after sharing a kiss. The taste of her lips reignited that memory. But instead of me pushing her away, as I did years ago, she returned the favour and stepped aside. This sting continues to burn, as now, all I can see is that I’m an idiot. I’m in too deep and it’s all hitting me, especially after the recent ‘friend zone’ chat. You’re such a good friend, she had said. What I needed then was to stick my nuts in a bucket of ice. Now was no different. Fuck you, friend zone.
I punch in the alarm code and flick on a few lights. Carrying a pallet of glasses under my arm, I turn into the storeroom and place them down. I go back and forth to the boot to retrieve the others while stacking them against the storeroom’s wall. Once I’m done, I head into the club. The narrow hallway has an office to the right and the storage room to the left. Continuing down the hall, the smell of turned woodchips lingers from the building works while I step across the drop sheets. The structure of the floor and lounge area were to stay the same, but the fabric covered walls and mahogany stages were changed. I had a custom L shape red mahogany bar made. These subtle changes were not only a new transformation; but a much needed facelift.
So far, the stage was almost complete—it just needed the thick curtains I had ordered for the backdrop. A small baby grand piano sat in the centre of the stage with a thick sheet covering it. Yes, I was pulling out all th
e stops here. Not only did Hazel sing and dance, but I also knew she was a pianist. Ugh, Alex would cut my balls and put them in her handbag if he guessed just how far gone I was.
Looking around the room, the occasional drop saw and scaffold lay around, while planning documents lined the table in the far corner. I had managed to snare Theo, my sister’s architect friend’s, attention a while back, and with his mad design skills, we both brainstormed the club’s new bar top layout. The logo is the only thing I’m stuck on. All my mind keeps picturing is a cartoon of her eyes. Call me a fool and open that handbag.
So much for not thinking about her tonight.
The sound of crunching comes behind me, and I turn to see a silhouette appear at the end of the hall. Narrowing my eyes, I recognize the familiar stroll and my chest tightens. Just what I was hiding from. My mind was definitely not going to clear tonight.
I put my hands in my pockets trying to hold my shoulders stiff in indifference, turning back to the stage. No use in playing the flirt; at Trinity’s party a few months ago, she had told me point blank that she could only be my friend, despite sharing an explosive kiss that seemed to last forever. Those fucking lips moulded perfectly against mine as I’d kissed her. Her lips responded each and every time. We were magnetic, but after a while I could see something dawn on her, as the moment was lost when the lust that filled her eyes turned into apprehension. The connection between us was there—it cracked between us like a live wire. Just as I was going to reach out to her, she’d retreated into herself, and all that was left was a fake and practised smile to hide behind.
“Hey Robbie,” Hazel greeted me softly, walking in, wearing a tight-fitted black dress that had my palms sweating earlier at dinner. I tried to pry my eyes from her legs and fuck-me shoes, but it was a losing battle. She was too hot, and I was a horny guy on edge.
“Hey, Ginge. What are you doing here?” For years, I had nicknamed Hazel the Ginger Ninja. Her deep red hair had always fascinated me. Growing up, she had been painfully shy to me and the first time I’d called her Ginge, her cheeks had flushed. From that moment, I did anything to see her cheeks glow; she was fucking beautiful then but even more radiant now. I want to touch her, badly. Keep your hands in your pockets, you dickhead.
“I thought I’d find you here,” she admits. “I was going to swing by the apartment but figured you’d want to give your sister and Alex some space.”
I cringe. Like I said, happy for my sister but at the end of the day, she’s my sister. I am a visual person and the thought of what Alex was doing to her now … shit. Yeah—I’ll stop.
“Yep, don’t remind me.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Just checking on the club. Looks good so far. Had to drop some glasses off.”
Hazel looks around and takes in the setup. I suddenly become nervous, these were my ideas and I’m certainly not a professional designer. I just went with what I thought would go.
“Does it look alright?” I stammer. “I was going for a sexy, chilled-out look.”
Her eyes are bright as she turns back to me. “Yes, Robbie. It looks amazing. I like that stage, and the bar looks fantastic. I can see myself coming here to work or to hang out.”
I sigh in relief. She faces away from me, and steps towards the new bar. Raising her fingertip, she runs it across the curved edge in a gentle caress. I had already pictured fifty different ways from Sunday that I would take her on that bar if given half the chance. Her fingertip and what I wanted it to do to me just made fifty-one. Willing my libido to quiet down, I step closer to her.
“What brings you here, Hazel?”
She tenses at my use of her full name. I hardly ever call her that, especially when we are alone. It is usually the Ginger Ninja or Haze. What I should call her is Farfalla, meaning butterfly. Running my tongue across my bottom lip, I inwardly curse. She looks different from when she entered. I have seen this Hazel before, just before she left for the UK, and I didn’t like it then and sure as shit didn’t like it now.
“Talk to me, Ginge. What’s going on in that little head of yours?”
She snaps out of her daze and looks back at me. “Just the usual bullshit with my family. I just wanted to go someplace that they hadn’t tried to touch, you know?”
Yeah, I did know. Her family are the shittest bunch of arseholes I know. Her folks are divorced, but full of mind games. Their biggest joy was to commandeer their daughters to follow the path they had chosen for them, all while evoking a river’s worth of guilt and bullying. Oh we missed your graduation, along with all the other important moments in your life? Oh sorry. Here, have some cash or a ridiculous gift as an apology. What I wouldn’t give to punch her dad in the face. Her sisters though—Satan had a great time making them.
“Well, I might have a bottle of something funky in the store cupboard if you really want?”
She shakes her head vigorously. “No, no, no, last time I made a fool of myself. I’d rather just discuss the setup of the club so I can start picturing routines. I know it’s early, but I’d like something to do.”
What I’d give to be able to fill in her time the way I wanted.
We walk back to the stage where Hazel begins to pace back and forth, observing the area. She halts and stops in front of the covered piano and looks at me. “You got a piano?”
I shrug as if it wasn’t a big deal. “Don’t most entertainment lounges have one?”
She beams at me and jumps up on stage. Her dress lifts slightly with each movement. Dick, settle down. Lifting the cover back, her hand strokes along the top of the shiny key block and fallboard. I blow out a soft breath, failing in my piss-poor attempt at not wishing to be those piano keys right now.
“It’s gorgeous, Robbie.”
Staring straight at her, watching her smile happily at the piano, I can’t help but reply. “Yeah, she is.”
Her eyes meet mine and for a moment, she holds them. I feel the familiar zing from her stare, but it’s short-lived as her phone starts ringing. Stumbling, she reaches into her handbag to retrieve it, her mouth uttering a soft curse, until she takes a look at the screen and grimaces. She hits the side button to mute the sound and throws it back into her bag with a hushed, “Prick.”
“All okay?” I ask, stepping closer to the stage. She stares at her feet for a moment while shifting her bag to her front. Biting her lip, she grabs the old sheet and covers the piano.
“Yeah, just some stuff to sort out.”
Or him. I don’t press her for details, even though I want to. I know I helped to get her back here, but I also know it was mainly due to what she caught that dickhead ex of hers doing. Even though I was grateful to the guy, I still wanted to punch him for hurting her. There have been a few occasions when I’ve noticed her not looking like her happy self. This is the one thing she still doesn’t trust me enough to talk about. I want to reach out and soothe her, but I gather that me touching her is the last thing she needs right now.
“This is such a nice piano.” She turns back and runs her fingers across the sheet. “With the club setup, the acoustics alone will be amazing. Once we find an ensemble to play with us, it will be even better. Have you worked out what to do in the back room yet?”
“I was thinking of putting up mirrors so Trice could have a little dance studio. But, I think I’d need a lock on the door to stop Alex from coming here to perve on her.”
Hazel’s eyes light up as a smile forms across her face. She clasps her hands together and giggles. It isn’t only the blush that makes me hard. That laugh could send me straight to directing traffic.
“Yes! That would be perfect. Trice will love that idea.”
I shake my head and smile. Fuck! She’s too hot for words. She smiles back at me and for a moment, her eyes linger on my lips and the intense rush surfaces again. Come closer. Just give me the sign and I’ll come to you. She rolls her lip between her teeth before her eyes flick up into mine, a frown halting her lustful gaze. For a mom
ent, I had her, but now she’s shut me out. My throat tightens as the disappointment stings.
Despite the obvious attraction, she just won’t let me in. The worst thing is she thinks I’m a player. A joke. A loveless fool. Her home life gave her a heartache for life, and now she won’t risk her own heart with me. Who could blame her? In the past, the trials of insipid exes from my teenage years led her to believe it. She stood watching me as I dated and wooed, never noticing that she had been there until that night. My sister’s best friend, who shadowed her wherever she went, was finally in my line of sight. I was a maverick who indulged in bimbos, not realising that I was breaking her heart each time and leaving her splintered and alone. Hindsight was such a jackarse. The sooner someone invented a time machine, the quicker I could go back and kick my teenage arse’s head in. Even years later when I finally grew up, I screwed up again by convincing her to live her dreams—but it had worked against me. It left me where I was—right here. Annoyed, frustrated and without her.
Her family, her fuckin’ sisters had all been a huge roadblock in the past when it came to pursuing her. Would I ever be good enough? Probably not. But now that I was older and wiser, I’d try. My emerald vixen would eventually know. She’d see that I was willing to wait here, to beg to lure … anything to get me out of that fuckin’ friend zone. No more waiting or doubts. No more judging me, thinking she was just like the others I used to date. She was never one of them. She might not be ready for me just yet, but I hoped that she would be soon. I was charging at her impenetrable wall and couldn’t wait for it to come crashing down.
So much for not thinking about her tonight. We are already near each other, again.