by Nina Kaye
‘Thanks, Aaron.’ I turn to him. ‘I really appreciate this. I owe you one – once again. If it weren’t for you, I’d be in it knee-deep.’
‘You’re welcome. And no, you don’t.’ His tone is a bit stiff, betraying his discomfort in dealing with my gratitude. ‘I’ll leave you here then. Reyes can sort you out with a uniform and give you the details for the Responsible Service of Alcohol online learning, which you must complete before you start on Monday. We’ll reimburse you for the cost through your pay. Come in for 4 p.m. on Monday and Clara can do your induction before your shift starts at 5 p.m.’
‘Clara?’
‘The Bars Manager.’
‘OK, sure. Bye then.’
‘I’ll check on you next week.’ Aaron nods at me and sweeps out of the bar.
I start to follow Reyes, who hangs back and links arms with me companionably. I’m a bit shocked at first, but I can see that this is just her nature; she’s treating me as she would anyone, so I try to relax and just go with it.
‘He is funny one, Mister Gardiner.’ She chats away casually. ‘He is very caring, it is clear, but he does not know how to show it.’
‘Yes.’ I nod agreement. ‘He’s certainly a bit difficult to read at times.’
‘We’re going to have so much fun, you and me.’ She casts me a slightly wicked sideways look as we head behind the bar and into the bottle store at the back.
Despite all my misgivings about this being a step down, and my misery that this not at all what I should be doing at this point in my life, I actually almost believe her.
‘You took your time.’ Dylan barely glances at me as I join him in the almost empty sports bar, his eyes glued to the football. ‘Good news then, I assume?’
‘If you consider working behind a bar till all hours, instead of continuing to nurture my hard-earned career good news, then yes, I suppose it is.’ I slump down in the seat next to him and exhale theatrically.
Dylan tears his eyes away from the screen, scrutinises my downtrodden face and then shouts across to the barman.
‘Gin and tonic for the lady, mate. Looks like she needs it quick.’
The middle-aged barman throws Dylan an I’m-not-your-bloody-servant look, which Dylan misses completely, having sneaked back to the football momentarily, before forcing himself to focus fully on me.
‘So, you got the job. That’s great.’ He squeezes my shoulder supportively. ‘It’s not forever, Squirt. Just to top you up till you do get your career back on track.’
The barman places my drink in front of me.
‘Thanks.’ I give him an appreciative and apologetic look, take a big slug of my gin and tonic, then turn to Dylan. ‘I know, but I can’t help feeling that my “career” is slipping further away.’
‘You can’t think that way,’ says Dylan. ‘You’re the most successful person I know. You’re the only one – other than me – who’s moved away from the estate. And you’ve really made something of yourself. One tiny setback isn’t a big deal. If I had the CV you have – gap or no gap – I’d be well proud. You’re gonna be all right. You just need to keep fighting on.’
‘I’ll keep trying, of course I will.’ I sigh. ‘Nothing will take away my drive and determination long-term – that’s hard-coded in me. But each rejection chips away that little bit more of my confidence.’
‘Aww, Squirt. I really wish I could help you.’ Dylan pulls me into a sideways hug that I don’t even have the energy to resist. ‘At least you have some more time to sort things out now.’
‘I know. I’m fine. It is what it is.’ I shrug. ‘I just need to keep going. I do have more time, as you say. That’s the main thing. I’ll keep applying for anything in my field that comes up…’
I trail off thoughtfully and we sit in companionable silence watching the players on the screen kick the ball around the pitch.
‘One good thing actually,’ I say eventually, ‘is that it looks like one of my bar colleagues is really nice. A bit over-friendly, perhaps, but she seems fun. Hopefully that’ll take the sting out of things.’
‘There you go.’ Dylan seems encouraged by this tiny morsel of optimism. ‘That’s a positive. Keep thinking that way and you’ll be fine.’
‘Yeah, you’re right. I need positivity.’ I sit up straight to affirm this. ‘Hey, you never know, maybe a job at Head Office will come up quickly and I’ll only be in the bar for a few weeks.’
‘Exactly. Maybe Aaron’s already working on that for you. So, is she hot, this new mate of yours?’
‘She’s not my mate. She’s a colleague.’ I give him a faux scathing look. ‘But, yes, she is – very beautiful actually. She’s Spanish. Probably a couple of years younger than me.’
‘Ding ding.’ Dylan’s eyes light up. ‘Might need to get my coat tails on sooner than I thought.’
‘Don’t you dare,’ I warn him. ‘The last thing I need is to lose another job because you’ve gotten drunk and disorderly, and been thrown out for perving on the bar staff.’
‘Hey.’ Dylan looks hurt. ‘I can scrub up when I need to.’
‘Well, you’ll definitely need to if you’re coming anywhere near that place – and I’m sorry but the earring will have to go. It’s proper high level – more so than the bars I’ve taken you to.’
‘You’ll fit right in then, won’t you?’ He gives me a huffy look. ‘You and your poncey arse.’
Chapter 7
Four days later, I’m standing miserably in front of the full-length mirror in the hotel’s dingy, rather stale-smelling staff changing rooms: nothing like the plush environment of the main hotel. I survey my bar uniform with four parts dismay, one part approval. The only saving grace – a slight release from mourning my previous beautifully tailored corporate wardrobe – is that I can’t help thinking my current outfit is a little bit stylish. Ankle-grazing black leggings and a chic, figure-enhancing purple tunic top with three-quarter-length sleeves; the bar name, Amethyst, emblazoned down the left side of the tunic, created from tiny white and purple diamanté stones and black stitching. On inspection, I’m surprised to see it’s actually made by a well-known, up-and-coming designer clothing label. At least they have damn good taste in this hotel.
It’s a short-lived boost, however. My mind creeps back to my impending shift and I’m flooded with dread. Thankful as I am to Aaron for saving my arse, and as lovely as Reyes may seem, this is not what I want – at all. I long for my shiny mahogany desk at McArthur Cohen, my comfortable, perfectly adjusted chair. I desperately miss the vibrant, buzzy cosmopolitan view from my window upon which I would gaze wistfully whenever I needed some additional inspiration. The tap-tap-tappity-tap of keyboards in the room, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee; being at meetings where we talked strategic concepts, discussed innovative ideas, reviewed progress, risks, issues, everything. I was at home there: climbing, achieving, and making it. It was my everything. How has it ended up like this?
The sense of loss for my old life swamps me, even more than when I was out of work. At least I was still then a communications and PR professional; one who was ‘between jobs’. Now I feel I’ve lost that identity altogether. It’s just temporary, Dylan keeps telling me, but the fear has already set in. What if that’s it? What if I can never get my foot back in the corporate door – slammed in my faced and some bastard has changed the locks? What if this is now it?
You’re not that hotshot professional anymore. You’re unemployed and barely employable.
The voice eats me up; goading and jeering at me, upsetting my breathing pattern. I suddenly feel completely overwhelmed and panicky as another wave of despair engulfs me.
Just as I’m deliberating whether to slip away and pretend this ‘bad dream’ never happened (while simultaneously beginning the countdown to my apartment being repossessed), the door to the changing rooms is flung open and Reyes bounds inside.
‘Hola, Liv! Welcome to hell!’ She laughs loudly. ‘I am kidding.’
She pronounces it keeding; with no idea
how close her joke brings me to scarpering through the slowly closing door, like a terrified mouse. As if to seal my imprisonment, the faulty door closer causes it to suddenly slam shut. I flinch at the unexpected bang.
‘Hey, are you OK, Liv?’ Reyes darts forward towards me. ‘I was just joking. It is not hell. It is great. The staff areas are not as good, and the food in the canteen is terrible, yes, but this place, it has great people, great spirit. You will be happy here, I know this.’
I look at her with wide eyes, a fear she knows nothing of etched across my face. She simply takes me by the hand and leads me to one of the changing benches.
‘Please, sit down. You are white.’
‘I… err… I’m fine,’ I say finally. ‘Just feeling a bit queasy. Must be something I ate.’
I take some slow deep breaths to calm myself. Reyes sits quietly beside me while I recover. After a few minutes, I get to my feet.
‘OK, I think I’m ready to go.’
‘You are sure?’ Reyes peers at me. ‘You still do not look good. You could go home and start tomorrow instead?’
As appealing as delaying the inevitable sounds, I know I have to do this, or I’ll lose my nerve completely.
‘I’m fine, honestly.’ I give her an appreciative look. ‘Let’s do this.’
We get up and walk through to the bar area, which thankfully is empty.
‘So, you remember what I show you last week?’ Reyes queries.
‘Yes, I do, thanks,’ I confirm.
‘That’s good.’ Reyes starts to empty the glass washer and I pitch in to help her. ‘I am sorry to tell you this when you do not feel good, but I must warn you about the one bad thing here – so you can protect yourself.’
‘What’s that?’ I’m unsure if I can take anything more.
‘The beast.’ Reyes’s face is serious.
‘The what?’ I look at her, perplexed.
‘The beast,’ she repeats in a lower voice. ‘Amir, our other bar colleague, create that name.’
I start to wonder if I’ve wandered into a children’s fairy tale.
‘What’s the—’
I’m immediately cut off by a swoosh of air from the door to the bar suddenly opening and closing, and the instantaneous voluminous presence of a young woman in a suit. She’s a lot taller and younger than Reyes and me, with long legs, an athletic figure and cropped dark hair. Her facial features are attractive, but emphasised a little too sharply by her hairstyle. She also has an unfortunately pointy nose.
‘You must be Liv. I’m Clara, the Bars Manager.’ She sticks her hand out, almost aggressively, across the bar and I shake it, my habitual corporate style this time feeling far more fitting.
‘Hi, Clara. Nice to meet you.’ I smile at her politely, then glance across to Reyes who theatrically mouths ‘the beast’ at me, before quickly breaking into a fake smile as Clara’s eyes land on her.
‘I’ve prepared your induction.’ Clara’s demeanour is stiff and overly professional. ‘Follow me and we’ll get started.’
‘OK, sure.’ I make my way out from behind the bar to join Clara, who’s already ascending the steps two at a time towards the back of the bar.
I look round to give Reyes a little wave as I go and find her doing an impression of a fierce animal, her hands raised baring pretend claws, her face contorted in a vicious-looking, but silent, roar. I give her a desperate look and find myself having to stifle a laugh.
‘Right, here we are.’ Clara stops next to one of the trendy white bar tables with a stack of folders on it. ‘Take a seat and we’ll get started.’
I slowly sit down on the comfortable purple fabric chair, which is more armchair than bar seat.
‘So, Aaron tells me you’re going to be working full-time.’
‘That’s right.’ I nod.
‘I can’t say I’m happy about him just hiring into my area like that, without even consulting me,’ she continues. ‘But he seems to think you’re good, so I guess we’re stuck with each other.’
Caught off guard by the harshness of her words, I scrutinise Clara’s face, trying to work out if she’s joking. She’s not. I say nothing.
‘Bar experience-wise, you have how many years?’ She asks as she pores over my CV.
‘None. But I worked for Aaron as a restaurant supervisor when I was at university. He was the Food and Beverage Manager at the Old Town Hotel. It was years ago.’
When you were about ten, I think to myself.
‘Right.’ She screws up her face in disapproval. ‘Your experience is pretty out of date then. And almost irrelevant. Do you even know about the Responsible Service of Alcohol online learning? You can’t start work here without doing that first.’ She sits back in her seat smugly, thinking she’s caught me out.
‘Yes, I do. And I have.’ I pull the folded-up printed completion certificate out of my apron pocket and hand it to her.
She snatches it from me and examines it, then casts it aside. ‘You’ll certainly never have used a Waiter Pad.’
‘A what?’ I ask.
‘A Waiter Pad. An electronic device for taking drinks orders.’
‘I have an iPad,’ I offer. ‘I assume the technology is not that different. Not rocket science.’
Clara glances up from my CV, giving me a scathing look. ‘It’s not quite the same, Liv.’ Her voice is intentionally patronising. ‘You’ll need training to use it. In fact, you’ll need training in everything.’
She exhales loudly as she makes a note in her notepad. I’m stunned by her behaviour. This woman is a manager of people? She’s barely human herself. How the hell did she get that job acting like this?
‘I see you’ve been working in the corporate world till recently. At McArthur Cohen. That’s a prestigious name. Why did you leave?’ She eyes me suspiciously.
Who the hell does she think she is? My hackles start to rise. She’s not inducting me, she’s interviewing me. And from the looks of things, it seems she’s looking for a reason to not to keep me on. I’ve dealt with her type before. The key is to stay calm and let their derision wash over you. Their problem, not mine.
‘Mutual agreement.’ I decide to stick to my script. ‘There was a company restructure and I took the opportunity to go as I was looking for a move anyway. This is a temporary role for me to get some extra cash while I continue my job search.’
Clara’s face instantly clouds with annoyance. ‘Does Aaron know this? I’m sure he wouldn’t have agreed to take you on if he’d known you’re just going to skip off as soon as something better comes along.’
‘Actually, he does.’ I smile at her tightly. ‘And he didn’t agree to take me on, he offered me this temporary work.’
I can almost see the steam rising from Clara’s ears as she furiously makes another note in her notebook. ‘The beast’. Really rather apt. Well done, Amir, whoever you are.
‘Right, well.’ Clara sniffs. ‘Let’s get your departmental induction and hotel tour done. You can go on the formal company induction next week – bit of a waste if you’re only stopping by. Reyes can do your behind-the-bar training.’
‘I’ve already had the tour, so you can cross that one off.’ I’m keen to spend as little time with Clara as possible. ‘Aaron showed me around last week.’
A personal tour by Aaron is obviously the final insult for Clara. She snaps her notebook shut and, still fuming, starts to run me through essential departmental information. By the time she’s done, I’ve only heard, and taken in, a fraction of what she’s said. But I have developed, in my head, a full technicolour adaptation of how, given the chance, I would inflict the slowest and most painful death possible upon her. This beast needs to be slain.
‘She’s not just fierce,’ I say to Reyes as we’re stocking the bar fridges a little while later. ‘She’s vile. I can’t believe the way she spoke to me. And what is she, like twelve?’
‘She is twenty-two.’ Reyes laughs. ‘I know. It was a shock for me too. My husband and I come here t
o live for a couple of years to have different cultural experience – and it is very different experience working for Clara. I did think to leave and find other work, but the pay is good for a hotel and so are the tips. And also, the people, as I say. Everyone, except the beast.’
‘Why would Aaron hire someone as a manager who behaves like that?’ I’m still bewildered by this. ‘He’s awkward himself, a bit of a smug bastard at times, sure, but he’s not offensive, nor malicious. I didn’t think he’d accept behaviour like that.’
‘You think that the beast speaks to Aaron like us?’ Reyes hoots. ‘No way! She is clever. With Aaron she is like butter that would not spread.’
‘You mean melt.’ I giggle.
‘Huh?’ Reyes looks confused.
‘The saying is: she acts like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. You mean she’s all angelic with him, right?’
‘Ah, yes! That is it, exactly.’ Reyes grins broadly. ‘She is a real jacket and hype.’
‘You mean Jekyll and Hyde!’ My giggles turn into full-on laughter.
‘You are good at this.’ Reyes looks impressed.
Her naivety is adorable, making me laugh even more.
‘What’s so funny?’ A voice comes out of nowhere, causing the two of us to snap to attention, immediately silenced.
Thankfully, it’s not Clara. It’s a man wearing a similar outfit to her. And he’s absolutely gorgeous: broad and muscular, with mid-brown hair and the most amazing smouldering eyes and chiselled jawline.
‘Oh… err… sorry. It’s nothing. Nothing at all.’ I let out a loud involuntary snigger.
Mortified at my own behaviour, I turn away briefly to compose myself.
‘Didn’t sound like nothing. Come on, share the joke.’ He gives us a dazzling smile, displaying a row of perfect sparkling white teeth.
Although I realise his manner is nothing like Clara’s, I don’t know him. Since I can’t trust my unwanted hysteria not to return, I stay quiet and gaze around me, silent.
‘It is a chica thing, Josh. You do not understand.’ Reyes jumps in to save me. ‘This is Liv. She just started today.’