‘Okay, I’ll let you off this time, but I promised I’d show you all that Utah has to offer and I don’t break promises, so this is just a rain check.’
Abbie grinned at him, her face uncontrollably giving him a reaction that her head was telling her not to give, and he smiled back at her.
‘Alrighty, England. Get yourself packed up and out of here before I call security on your ass. Kitty must have told you that Friday overtime is prohibited in the state of Utah? She did tell you that, right?’
Abbie’s eyes widened as she began to babble that she didn’t know. She stopped in her tracks when she noticed that familiar twinkle in his eye.
‘Oh, bugger off, I knew that wasn’t true.’
‘I had you for a minute there. Admit it.’
‘I believed you for less than a second. And that’s only because I’m jet-lagged. I never would have fallen for it otherwise.’ She looked at Kyle and rolled her eyes, with a little smile on her face. Despite knowing she needed to keep him at arm’s length, she couldn’t help but warm to him and find herself comfortable in his presence. ‘I’m heading off in a minute, I promise.’
‘You better. I don’t want to find you here on Monday morning still in the same clothes. We shower here in the US. I know you guys still have your outside toilets and share a tub once a week but over here we’re clean.’
‘That’s enough of your cheek. Go on, get out or I’ll never finish up and then I will still be here on Monday morning.’
Kyle hopped off her desk, took off his baseball cap, bowed and made for the door. ‘Until later, England.’
‘It’s ABBIE,’ she half-shouted, half-giggled, as he disappeared.
It suddenly felt empty in the office, as it always seemed to when he’d been around and then left. Deciding the best thing was to start with a fresh brain on Monday morning, she closed down her computer and headed out into the brisk Utah evening.
CHAPTER 8
Abbie got ready on Saturday morning, took her guide book and left the apartment, deciding to wander the streets in her area in the hunt for a spot to have lunch.
She braced herself against the chill that hit her as she walked out the door, and headed north. The weather since she arrived had been crisp. It was cold, but the sky was a beautiful blue each day, meaning that each morning when she opened her curtains she was greeted by the same spectacular view of the park and snow-capped mountains. It felt so alien. Usually, the only thing she caught sight of on a clear day in London was the BT Tower, but in Salt Lake City, it felt like she was close to nature. It was calming, despite her being a stranger to these types of surroundings.
Keeping her eyes peeled as her stomach started to rumble, she scanned the street for an eatery. She had yet to come across another walker, but she’d quickly realised that people here seemed to drive everywhere. Whereas she would walk to Liberty Park, most other people would drive, park up in the lot there, then get out and be ‘active’. The walking felt good, though, so she didn’t want to fall into a habit straight away of hopping in the car to drive short journeys.
Out of nowhere, she spied a sign for an all-day diner. The building looked identical to the row of colonial style homes along the rest of the street but had been fashioned into a café. She pushed open the door and was met with a buzzing room containing about ten tables. She was ushered to a table in the window, prettily decorated with lace mats and a milk bottle filled with fresh yellow and white crocuses. The friendly waitress pushed a menu into her hands and Abbie scanned it with joy. Pancakes, maple syrup and bacon it was then. Maybe with a side of strawberries. God, she loved America.
With a full belly and a grin on her face, Abbie had no choice but to head home and fetch her car for the next item on her agenda. She had joked with her parents about the search engines throwing up nothing but information on Mormons, but it was a huge part of Salt Lake City’s history so she decided to visit the famous headquarters of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, which she had located in downtown.
She was surprised to find herself back in the same area where she had gone crazy with her credit card the weekend before. Crossing the street from the car park, she looked at the map in her guidebook and saw she was on the perimeter of the church – she was heading for Temple Square. To her, it looked like a whole mass of concrete office buildings, but then she saw a path splitting the buildings and headed towards it.
Suddenly it was as if she were in the midst of the Chelsea Flower Show. Everywhere she looked were beds of beautiful multicoloured blossoms, and towering trees filling the space with greenery. It was so lush and so peaceful. She meandered around and then looked to her left. Eclipsing the skyline was the most stunning church she thought she had ever seen. Towering above the rest of the city was an intricately built gothic-style temple with six stunning spires. It was breathtaking, absolutely huge, and according to her guidebook, over 125 years old.
Abbie didn’t particularly think of herself as religious, but in the past she had enjoyed visiting the works of art that were some of the world’s most famous and historic places of worship. From the Sacré-Cœur in Paris to the cathedral in Barcelona (which she still thought was stunning despite it being perpetually covered in scaffolding), and the one in Liverpool, which had embraced modernism and also now acted as a mini gallery, exhibiting a neon light installation by Tracey Emin, she loved them all.
She couldn’t wait to get inside this beauty in front of her, and walked purposefully towards it. As she reached the tall black wrought iron gates, flanked by Victorian style lanterns, she spotted a security guard in her path. Approaching him, she asked if there was a payment required to enter and if there were formal tours and was surprised when he told her it was prohibited for her to go into the temple itself – it was considered sacred and only open to members of the church. However, she could tour the square, taking in the gardens and the visitor centre. She thanked him and headed back the way she came. Maybe she’d come back another day, but for now she had seen what she could and it was pretty impressive.
Leaving the square, she felt the need for some noise. It had been an eerily quiet area and, having been on her own all day, she craved some company as the evening started to draw in.
She walked several blocks away from the temple and started to see restaurants and hotels. She spotted a sports bar but couldn’t bear the thought of filling her weekend off with talk of balls, goals and nets so carried on walking, looking out for something up her street.
She saw a sign up ahead, sticking out overhead above the path. The logo featured a piano and a guitar, with the name The Live Joint. There was still a padlock on the door and a sign telling her it would open at 8:00 p.m. Something about the place drew her to it, so she decided to kill some time in the Mexican restaurant next door.
Peering at the menu, she mulled over the fact that, despite nearing her thirtieth birthday, she still had no bloody clue about the difference between a soft taco, an enchilada and a burrito. She’d lost count of the times she had been to a Mexican restaurant and listened to the people around her convincingly ordering, yet it seemed that no matter what she ordered the bland plate arrived looking and tasting the same as every other time she’d ordered.
She decided this time to put her fate in the hands of the gods (or the chef to be more precise) and told the waiter to bring her whatever he would recommend.
A few minutes later, he proudly placed a plate in front of her.
‘Let me present you our speciality – a BBQ chicken fajita with guacamole. Please, go ahead, I hope you like.’
Abbie eagerly speared her fork into the mixture and the next moment was caught up in what could only be described as a foodgasm. The taste of the tenderly cooked chicken marinated in a sweet BBQ sauce, mixed with flavourful onion, juicy tomato and the freshest avocado, worked to create an explosion of pleasure in her mouth.
It was the best thing she had ever eaten and she couldn’t help letting out a groan of bliss.
&nb
sp; She took it all back. Mexican food was absolutely not bland and she never wanted to eat anything else ever again.
With her taste buds well and truly satisfied and the waiter in possession of a rather hefty tip, Abbie made her way back to The Live Joint and was happy to find the padlock now released, the door open, and an inviting light beckoning her inside.
Walking in, she heard the strains of ‘Free Bird’ by Lynyrd Skynyrd playing and smiled to herself. It was as if they knew she was coming in and had captured the feeling she’d been wrapped up in since touching down in the city.
She looked around the room. It wasn’t a big place but she could see a small raised platform in the back corner, complete with a drum kit, amps and microphone stands. Mix-and-match, scuffed-up wooden tables and chairs were dotted around the room, and to her left was a weathered bar with drip mats scattered along it bearing the logos of every conceivable whisky brand and a row of bar stools with torn black leather seats set in front. She loved how authentic it all felt.
Facing away from her, refilling bottle dispensers at the back of the bar, was a woman of about her age. As Abbie pulled a stool out, the woman turned and beamed.
‘Sorry, I didn’t see you there. We don’t usually get many people in here this early.’
‘No problem. I know you’ve only just opened. I was trying to find somewhere I could get a drink and maybe listen to some music.’
‘Well, this is the place to be for that. We’re famous for it. Where are you from? You’re not from round here.’
Abbie explained her English roots and that she had now been a Salt Lake City resident for all of a week.
‘That’s just brilliant. Welcome to Utah. I’m Rose. Born and bred here. Barely left the city. Super jealous of you coming from England, home of so much amazing music. Why on earth have you come here?’
Both of them laughed then Abbie started to fill Rose in on her job and why she was there. ‘Sorry, you must be busy and I must be boring you.’
‘Are you insane? This place isn’t going to get busy for another hour and it’s not often an interesting new gal arrives in town who sounds like an English princess but apparently works in the down and dirty world of sport. I don’t know anyone else who can introduce me to fit soccer players, so you better believe we’re staying friends.’
Something about Rose reminded Abbie of Polly, and it felt familiar. It felt nice.
They kept chatting and discovered a mutual love of a number of bands, from both sides of the pond.
‘One of the reasons I like working here is we have some great indie bands playing most nights of the week,’ Rose said. ‘So, I basically get entertained and get paid for it. There’s no downside. Except every so often when a couple of drunks need splitting up and throwing out, but I try to treat that like it’s exercise and take the positives.’
Abbie was warming more and more to Rose and thanked the serendipity of stumbling across this bar. People had started to fill the room and Abbie made a move to leave the bar, but Rose stopped her. ‘Stay here, we can watch the band together. It’ll be good company for us both!’
Secretly thrilled, Abbie ordered another glass of wine and settled back onto the stool. Between serving, Rose told her that the band tonight was a young country rock outfit from Tennessee called Memphis Black, who were touring venues around the country. They were tipped for big things, and if predictions were right, she and Abbie would be able to brag one day about seeing them in a ramshackle bar with only a hundred or so other people, when by that point they would be selling out arenas.
By the time the band came on stage, Abbie was filled with the warm, woozy feeling that only three glasses of wine and a new friendship can bring.
The band was brilliant. With both a female and male vocalist, their delicious voices blended together like coffee and cream, while the drummer and guitarists filled the room with heart-pounding beats and chords.
Abbie felt exhilarated by the end of their set, clapping wildly as they modestly left the stage and made their way over to the bar for a well-earned drink on the house. She was exhausted by the combination of having been out all day and still trying to see off the remnants of her jet lag, but didn’t feel quite ready to leave this bubble of fun.
Rose engaged the band in conversation, her natural ability to make people feel at ease once more coming to the fore.
‘I’d like you to meet my friend, Abbie. She’s just moved here from England and is working for the MLS soccer club here. She used to work in music in the UK and she’s kind of a big deal.’
Abbie started as she realised Rose was introducing her to the band. They were friendly and seemingly interested in this weird foreigner moving to Utah to work in a sport that even Americans hadn’t got used to yet. The drummer, Kevin, was quite excited though as he had spent some time as a child on an air force base in England and developed a love of Arsenal, so he quizzed her on the current state of the Premiership.
Rose distributed another round of drinks as the conversation continued to flow, all of them discussing their love of music and Kevin asking regular questions about the beautiful game.
Abbie left the bar when it closed at 1:00 a.m. having swapped contact details with both Rose and the band, and made promises to contact Rose to organise a night out and to invite Memphis Black to one of the forthcoming Utah Saints games.
She took a taxi home with a plan to collect her ditched car the next day, then fell into bed in The Royal Suite without taking her make-up off and was asleep before turning out the light.
CHAPTER 9
March arrived before Abbie could believe it, and with it came the first game of the season. The Utah Saints would be playing the fearsome-sounding San Jose Earthquakes. The season opener was at home, and for Abbie, that meant one thing: she was launching her big idea.
She had spent her first weeks at her new job feverishly making phone calls, sending emails and pulling together plans for the fifteen minutes that she hoped would please her new bosses.
It hadn’t left much time for getting to know her new city, but she was desperate to do a good job so she had thrown all her time and energy into quickly making a good impression. She had worked late nights and weekends, had eaten an inordinate amount of take out, and hadn’t been back to The Live Joint, but had promised Rose they would meet up once this important day had passed.
Taking everything she had researched about American sport and what fans seemed to like, she had created The Half-Time Show, and now there was less than an hour until it began. She didn’t have time to worry now, though, as she was in the press room talking to journalists, introducing herself in person after speaking to them on the phone and making sure they all had what they needed.
All the ingredients for her big idea were sitting in the marketing office and she had already double- and triple-checked everything was set for half-time so that she could focus on watching the opening forty-five minutes of her first Utah Saints match. She had lost count of the games she’d watched back in the UK, but she felt a frisson of excitement as the whistle blew for kick-off and she stood on the sidelines.
The game began in a fast-paced manner with the home side confidently driving the ball forward towards the San Jose Earthquakes goal. It looked like it was only a matter of time before the Utah Saints opened the scoresheet and, sure enough, in the twenty-third minute, Bobby Fox scored with an incredible volley from outside the penalty box. Bobby was a young hotshot, straight out of college and scouted by Kyle. Abbie felt her pulse race as she watched her new team celebrate and saw Bobby’s eyes nearly pop out of his head with excitement as if he could hardly believe he had scored on his debut.
It neared half-time and the moment she had been working towards. She knew she wasn’t reinventing the wheel, but she was introducing something new to this stadium that she hoped would bring the crowd alive. The whistle blew and she watched as The Half-Time Show unfolded.
A troupe of twenty cheerleaders in navy costumes bearing the team cres
t, together with a new club mascot, Eric the Elk, ran out onto the sidelines. As soon as the last player had left the field they catapulted onto the pitch to begin a dynamic routine. There were girls and boys cartwheeling, backflipping and flying through the air while other members of the troupe were running around the perimeter, triggering the crowd to start a Mexican wave.
While all this was going on, her slick production crew assembled a simple platform in the centre of the pitch and rigged a microphone connected to a sound system. When the cheerleaders ran off, a local singer she had found on Instagram called Nicola George took to the stage with her guitar and performed two songs for the now enraptured crowd. As Nicola’s gravelly country voice played out of the PA, Abbie watched the crowd closely and saw they were all listening to the young woman attentively, lots with their phones out filming and taking photos. This young performer was a complete unknown yet it still seemed to be working. The crowd were enjoying themselves, choosing to stay and buy hot dogs and beers from the roaming vendors rather than leaving the stands. She had wanted Memphis Black to play, but they were already booked, so she had earmarked them for something later down the line.
With the final five minutes approaching, Nicola wrapped up her set and walked back through the tunnel while Erik The Elk stood in the goal mouth. The cheerleaders had picked out three children from the crowd who all took turns in a penalty shoot-out against the large elk. His bulging costume made it difficult to nimbly defend against the ensuing shots, but must have eased the pain when the ball hit him smack in the stomach when seven-year-old Jessica hit the bullseye. In the background the stage was expertly and discreetly removed, leaving the pitch ready for the second half of the match.
Half the World Away Page 6