The Boys of Summer (The Summer Series) (Volume 1)

by C.J Duggan

  ***

  "Poor Adam," Ellie puffed as we made our way slowly up Coronary Hill.

  "Mmm," I replied.

  "Come on, Tess, he didn't break his arm on purpose."

  "Didn't he?" I gave her a pointed look. I knew I was sulking and being unreasonable, but Adam's words echoed in my memory: "The worst is over, it's all downhill from here".

  How ironic, I thought, as I physically made my way up the hill to my impending doom.

  My heart clenched as I looked over Lake Onslow. It was dotted with locals and tourists lapping up the remainder of the dimming sun. They would stay out for as long as the mozzie repellant lasted. It was a beautiful balmy evening, perfect for enjoying the breeze that flowed off the lake on a summer's night. Instead, I was about to enter the Onslow Hotel, which was like a giant tomb to me.

  Ellie and I decided to mix it up. Instead of entering the restaurant via the beer garden out back we walked through the front bar entrance. It was five o'clock, so the place was deserted save for the odd widowed drunk that had been propped up at the bar surrounded by empty chip packets and pot glasses for what looked like a rather productive day. Chris gave us a curt nod as we made our way through the front bar to the restaurant.

  "How's Adam?" Ellie asked.

  "He'll live." Chris took the empty beer glass from his patron as a sign of being done - that, and the old fella had nodded off at the bar.

  "Time for a taxi, Ned, before the riff raff get here," Chris yelled, jolting Ned from his slumber.

  "Taxi!" the old guy shouted.

  Ellie and I exchanged glances and couldn't help but giggle as we walked through to the restaurant.

  Melba was wiping down tables. "You're late!"

  I looked at the clock on the wall; it was two minutes past five.

  "We were just ?"

  "Loitering in the bar, I know what you young 'uns are like, but I have news for you - there'll be no jumping on the bar or table top dancing or breaking bones on my watch, ya hear?"

  Oh goody! Another reason to hate us even more.

  Melba gave us directions to prep the dining room before meals started at six. We busied ourselves to further avoid her wrath and gave each other the odd smirk as we settled into our work. It was then that Chris walked through the partition, weaving his way through tables and chairs towards us.

  "Melba, is it possible that you are looking younger every time I see you?"

  Melba scoffed, "Oh, you, quit it." She waved him away and quickly gathered up the extra tablecloths to carry back to the kitchen, a ruby red blush creeping up her neck and cheeks. My incredulous stare turned from Melba's retreating figure to Chris, who looked at me.

  And there it was, that Henderson charm.

  "What?"

  I shook my head. "Nothing."

  His face melted back to stone. "We have a promotion going on this weekend, for the Irish Festival."

  "Ooh, to be sure, to be sure," crooned Ellie as she sidled up next to Chris, who all of a sudden looked uneasy. He took a subtle step back.

  "You're to wear these as the uniform tonight."

  "A uniform?" pouted Ellie.

  "It's only for the weekend." Chris chucked us both unnervingly small black tops, which I held up against my torso with a gulp. Before I could question the size, Chris was gone.

  "Come on, let's get changed before Mad Melba returns."

  I had thought I looked summery with my leggings, ballerina flats and a long, flowy, dusty pink top.

  That was before. I stood in front of the full-length mirror in the ladies' toilets, my mouth gaping open in horror. I had literally poured myself into what there was of the tight, black top with the Guinness logo on my chest.

  "I can't go out there like this," I said. My voice shook.

  Ellie stepped out from the cubicle tucking her top into her non-offensive skirt.

  "What's the problem?" She froze when she caught sight of me.

  "Wow!" Ellie's eyes widened.

  I grimaced. "I look like I'm in a cat suit." Turning to the mirror, I tried to pull down the stretchy top but it infuriatingly drifted upwards.

  "You look hot, Tess!"

  I chewed on my lower lip, trying not to get upset.

  "Can you please go ask Chris if there is another size? Something bigger?"

  Ellie had to shake herself from her daze as her gaze looked over me. "Ah, Tess, I don't think-"

  "Ellie, please!"

  I paced the toilets, waiting for Ellie to return waving a XXXL top in her hand. Unfortunately, it was not to be.

  "Tess, seriously, you look fine. In fact, you look smoking-hot fine!"

  I didn't want to be 'smoking-hot fine'; I wanted to be blend-into-the-wall fine.

  Ellie grabbed my hand. "Come on, we can't stay in here forever. Chris said we were going to be flat out tonight so we better get to it."

  Perfect.

  "Oh, wait." Ellie pulled me up, and all but yanked my arm out of my socket.

  "What?"

  Without a word Ellie yanked the elastic from my hair and ruffled it up.

  "Ellie!"

  "Just trust me," she said.

  I took a deep breath and stood still. She ran her fingers through my hair and folded up the top half with the band, for a messy half-up half-down look, before fixing my fringe to frame my face.

  "Much better!" She smiled.

  We came out just in time for a staff meeting. Chris's words were cut off abruptly when he saw us join the group. His eyebrows raised in surprise as he took in my apparel. Not in disgust or mockery, but the way a guy checks out a girl. The way boys usually looked over Ellie. He coughed, cleared his throat and refocused on his clipboard. I felt the heat flood my cheeks as I quickly sat down in an attempt to hide myself behind a table. I sat next to Melba who didn't give me the same look of appreciation. She was looking at me in more of a 'You look like a whore' way.

  We were given our battle stations speech; what our roles were to be, and what was expected of us for the night. The Irish band would be setting up in the beer garden, and the restaurant was fully booked. My heart beat faster as I recounted my disastrous first shift. It hadn't exactly boosted my confidence (especially now that I looked like a ninja). Ellie was jigging her leg like she always did when she was excited.

  For what time remained before the expected arrival of our first booking, I took it upon myself to memorise the dinner specials, taking note of any vegetarian selections. I tested my pen for ink, dated the order pad accordingly and, before I knew it, the six o'clock rush had begun.

  I fumbled and stuttered at my first table, but luckily they were a family of locals. Ken and Wendy Martin and their three adorable kids. They were patient and kind, and helped ease my nerves. I took their order without drama and spiked it proudly on the kitchen spike.

  "Order up!"

  "Well, look at you," crooned the usually foul-tempered cook, Rosanna. She smiled at me, her demeanour disturbingly friendly. But I knew this was the calm before the storm.

  "Twirl for me." She circled her finger in the air in a spinning motion, giving a wolf whistle of appreciation.

  "You'll be breaking all the boys' hearts, Tess."

  I cringed. "I don't know about that," I said, and quickly retreated from the kitchen, running straight into Ellie.

  She pulled me into the alcove where the high chairs were kept.

  "Oh my God, Tess! You should see who just came through the front door."

  Before I could ask, she let out a squeal. "I'm going to take their order," she said, and disappeared.

  Okey dokey, there was either a celebrity in the bar (in Onslow?), or a hot boy. My money was on the latter and my suspicions were confirmed by the distant hum of the jukebox, which meant that the poolroom was in use.

  My friendly family table continued to be everything true and lovely, which almost made up for my next table ? almost.