by Nina Kaye
‘Not completely,’ I admit. ‘That false start was real. I haven’t played for years. But seems the rustiness wore off pretty quickly.’
‘I’ll say. Where did you learn to play like that?’
‘Spent a lot of time in the pub as a kid. Not drinking obviously. Just a community thing.’
‘Right. Well, you do realise, that I will kick your arse next time.’ Josh’s wounded pride is already on the mend. ‘Just didn’t know what I was dealing with. Best of three?’
‘Sure.’ I give him a wink. ‘If you want to subject yourself to that.’
Josh laughs and holds my gaze. ‘I like you, Liv. I’m glad you’ve come to work here. I hope we can spend a bit more time together.’
To my horror, I start to feel myself blush. ‘Err… well, yeah, I guess there will be plenty more work breaks to be passed at the pool table.’
‘I was thinking more like going for a drink – just you and me?’ He raises an eyebrow suggestively.
Now he is asking me out. For a moment I imagine what it would be like to kiss him and feel his muscular arms around me, before snapping myself back to reality. As hot as he is, I must stand by my rule. The last thing I need right now is another distraction preventing me from getting my life back on track.
‘I… umm… I’m not sure that’s a good idea.’ I chew on my lip awkwardly. ‘Us being colleagues and all. Plus, I need to focus on other things in my life right now.’
‘OK… no problem.’ He holds his hands up in defeat once more. ‘But I’ll be right here when you change your mind.’
He saunters out the door of the canteen, leaving me wondering: how it was me who won the game and knocked back his advances, yet somehow it feels like he got the upper hand? Shaking my head in amazement, I’m just putting the pool cue back, when Clara comes sweeping into the canteen.
‘Liv!’ she barks across the room.
A few people eating their meals look up in surprise.
‘Oh, hi, Clara.’ Having assumed this is just another of her strange behaviours, I miss the menace in her approach.
‘Liv Hamilton.’ She walks right up to me, her severe features creating an almost evil look. ‘You may have been hired by the top brass in this place, but you answer to me.’
‘Err… OK… sure.’ I’m perplexed by the ominous tone in her voice.
‘You get forty minutes for your meal break and not a minute more. I only briefed you on that a few hours ago and already you’ve taken advantage. This is your first strike – and it’s only day one.’
‘What? Clara, I’m sorry, I just… I must have lost track of time.’
I glance at my watch and see that I’m two minutes over my break time. She was obviously lying in wait, hoping I would break the rules. Obviously I need to be more careful. Another three minutes and I’d have been back at the bar. It’s hardly even relevant.
‘You can make the time up tomorrow by coming in early.’ She eyes me with disdain.
‘You are kidding.’ I’m so shocked, it just slips out.
‘Strike two, Liv.’ She surveys me coldly and I realise she means business; I can’t afford to lose this job.
‘OK, sorry. I’m really sorry.’ I say this as sincerely as I can. ‘I’ll make the time up and I’ll be on top of my timekeeping in the future.’
‘Make sure that you are.’ She stares me out, then stalks off across the canteen, letting the door slam behind her as she leaves.
I stand rooted to the spot, thrown by her viciousness and complete lack of humanity. OK, so I was late. I accept that. But I reckon she was banking on that happening. I glance around me self-consciously and see a few fellow employees offering me sympathetic looks. How have I gone from being a high-performing, credible professional who manages my own time and workload, to being publicly scolded like a toddler, by someone who probably wasn’t much more than a toddler herself when I entered the world of work? It’s almost unbearable.
With the force of an avalanche, the pride and strength I’d gained from my win against Josh collapses. Unable to bear the unwanted attention, I put my head down and hurry out of the canteen, back to the bar.
Chapter 9
It’s after 2 a.m. when I finally unlock the door to my apartment and slip inside. I kick off my shoes, trudge through to my bedroom and slump onto my king-size bed, exhausted. My back is aching, the pain in my heels and the balls of my feet is excruciating: a burning like I’ve never felt before. Drained, both physically and emotionally, I get under the crisp, clean duvet, still fully clothed, and just lie there, numb. I’m so done, I can’t even muster the energy to go to the bathroom and remove my make-up and brush my teeth.
The worst part of the night was my run-in with Clara, and I just couldn’t get the easy banter I’d had with Josh back after that. It was impossible to shake the feeling that I was being watched. I couldn’t laugh or have any chat with Reyes and Amir; anyway, it was the last thing I felt like doing. Clara has made herself abundantly clear: she doesn’t want me working there and she’ll do her very best to get rid of me. Miserably, I curl up into the foetal position and wait for the nightmares to come.
The next morning, I wake groggily to the sound of my phone pinging. Fighting the urge to drift over to sleep again, I reach into my handbag on the floor to retrieve it.
No great surprise. It’s Dylan – asking if we’re still meeting during his lunch break. I’m in mid-flow, cursing him for waking me so early after such a late night, when I clock the time on my phone: it’s 11.45 a.m.
‘Shit!’ I call out through my empty apartment, as I leap out of bed in shock. ‘Shit. Shit. Shit.’
I dial Dylan’s mobile and wait impatiently for him to answer.
‘Morning, you lazy dog,’ he greets me jovially as he picks up. ‘Fifteen more minutes and I’d be saying afternoon.’
‘Shut up, Dylan.’ I’m so not in the mood for one of his ribbings. ‘I had planned to spend this morning trying to save my career. I’m going to have to take a rain check, as I’m due in the hotel at 3.30 p.m. for training. If I don’t spend some time on my job hunt now, I won’t get a chance.’
‘Hey, chill,’ Dylan tries to soothe me. ‘Don’t put yourself under so much pressure. Give yourself a couple of days to settle in before hitting the job sites again.’
‘Settle in?’ Unable to control my rising stress and irritation, I begin to pace round my bedroom. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me. Dylan, that place is a nightmare. The last thing I want to do is settle in. I have to get out of there – fast.’
‘Oh, come on,’ says Dylan. ‘I know it’s not what you’re used to. You need to give it a chance: it’s the only way you’re gonna keep a roof over your head. Seriously, you’re gonna turn into a right snob – and a skint one at that – if you’re not careful.’
My irritation boils over. ‘Two strikes, Dylan. I’ve had two bloody strikes already – on my first night!’
‘What?’ He’s understandably confused. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘My boss – the beast, as she’s affectionately known – has already given me two strikes. She hates me because Aaron brought me in and he didn’t consult her. Like that’s my fault? She’s determined to get rid of me. I got strike one for being a few minutes late back from my break, and the second because I couldn’t believe that she was serious when she told me to make up the time today. It’s worse than you could possibly imagine…’
I tail off breathlessly and sink to the floor.
‘Aww, Squirt.’ Dylan lets out a low whistle. ‘That’s bullshit. What you gonna do? You can’t let her do that. Maybe speak to Aaron?’
‘No way.’ I shake my head determinedly. ‘It’ll just make things worse for me. Apparently, she sucks up his arse. He won’t have a clue.’
‘But Aaron knows you. He trusts your judgement.’
‘He also knows I think this job is below me, Dylan. He’ll just think I’m being some kind of little princess – or snob!’
‘I don’t
know what to say then.’ Dylan sounds genuinely troubled and concerned for me. ‘Guess you’re just gonna have to try and ride it out, make sure you’re squeaky and all. Don’t give her any excuse.’
‘That’s all I’ve come up with too.’ I sigh resignedly. ‘So, now that you know how bad it is, can I take that rain check?’
‘Yeah, course. Chin up. Hopefully things will get better for you. Talk soon.’
‘Thanks, Dylan.’ I cut the call and look around my room hopelessly for a few moments, before dragging myself to the shower.
An hour later, I’m feeling a bit fresher, and devouring a ham and cheese salad sandwich at my breakfast bar, while poring over job listings. Although there’s nothing that immediately fits my preferences, I’ve decided that anything is better than where I am right now. I apply for a handful of jobs (including temporary ones) that are slightly more junior than my position at McArthur Cohen, with a couple of them even being outside my area of direct experience and expertise.
By the time I’m on the bus, whizzing across North Bridge, looking out across Waverley Station to the Scott Monument and West Princes Street Gardens, I’ve cheered up a bit. At least I have some potential options on the horizon again. If I can limit my personal hell to a month or six weeks, then hopefully I can move on at the end of it with my sanity still intact.
On arriving in the bar, I’m greeted by an ever-cheery Reyes, who obviously doesn’t suffer the brunt of the beast in the way that I have so far – or just doesn’t care.
‘Hola, Chica. How are you today?’ She trots over and gives me a European-style greeting, kissing me on both cheeks.
‘Hi, Reyes. I’m fine thanks. You?’
‘I am good, like every single day. Even though the sun does not shine here, I am happy. But, I am worried for you, Liv.’
‘Err… why’s that?’ I’m immediately alert and nervous of an unanticipated third and final strike missile coming my way from Clara.
‘Because, Chica, you were not happy last night, yes?’ She fixes her emerald green eyes on mine.
‘Me? No, I’m just fine.’ I try, but fail, to hold her gaze. ‘Totally fine.’
‘I know that is not the truth, Liv. But I am not expecting that you tell me yet. We are only meeting a few days ago. I will not break your arm for this information, not yet anyway, but I hope you will learn that you can trust me.’
I blink at Reyes for a moment, mildly perplexed, then it clicks. ‘Oh, you mean you won’t twist my arm.’
‘That is what I say.’ Reyes gives a single assertive nod.
‘Right, sure.’ I offer her a kind smile. ‘Of course. But I’m fine, honestly. It’s just a bit of an adjustment working here.’
‘I understand,’ says Reyes. ‘I come from a different place too.’
I nod, thinking back to what Josh told me, unable to get my head around why Reyes would give up a cushy lifestyle for this.
‘How’s it going, sexy ladies?’ A voice suddenly cuts through the silence, causing us to jump.
‘Amir! You scare us,’ Reyes scolds him. ‘I did not know you are here.’
‘Been doing the stocktake for the last three hours.’ He jabs his thumb behind him, towards the steps that lead to the cellar from the bar storeroom.
‘You all good, Liv?’ He gives me a cheeky wink. ‘You’re looking particularly ravishing today.’
‘Yes, fine.’ I shrug and smile at him, already aware that he’s a bit of a smoothie.
‘Amir. Please!’ Reyes gives him another telling-off. ‘You are not Josh. You must stop with this… thing!’ She waves her hands in the air theatrically.
‘What thing?’ He grins innocently at her.
‘This… how do you say… flirting… yes, flirting. I see that you are picking this up from Josh and it does not work for you.’
Amir, rather than being offended, looks highly amused by Reyes’s comment. I watch as he plays on her fiery personality. At around five-foot six, he’s not much taller than me and Reyes, but he’s got more charisma than the two of us put together. And he loves nothing more than winding Reyes up, his broad Glasgow accent making him all the more entertaining.
‘Amir. No. I will not hear this.’ Reyes sticks her fingers in her ears. ‘You go too far. Too far!’
‘I think she fancies me,’ Amir whispers under his breath, causing me to have to hold back a snigger. ‘Right, I’m off for a break. See you in a bit.’
Amir wanders out of the bar, ignoring the stream of Spanish abuse following him.
‘Now, cocktail making.’ Reyes turns to me and suddenly claps her hands together with excitement. ‘This will be fun. Today I will teach you only the most popular drinks. It will take a while for you to learn everything. We will also try the beer again, yes?’ She gives me a sideways glance.
‘Sounds good.’ I pretend not to notice.
‘OK, empecemos!’
‘Empe-what?’ I give her a confused look.
‘Let’s get started.’ She gives me a mischievous wink. ‘You should learn Spanish, and then we can talk, and no one will understand.’
‘Hmmm… we’ll see.’ That idea does not fill me with enthusiasm right now. Learning a whole new language seems like an insurmountable task, especially with everything else I’m juggling.
Reyes and I spend a couple of hours working through a list of different gin cocktails, most of which, to my relief, are very simple. And they taste amazing – not that I’m able to have more than a snifter of each when checking I’ve got the balance of ingredients right. She makes sure I have a few attempts at the trickier ones, so I feel comfortable with them. Apart from a couple of early disastrous attempts, we gift the drinks we make to the smattering of willing guinea pigs in the bar.
Just as we’re clearing up from the training, Aaron strides into the bar.
‘How are you getting on, Liv?’
‘Fine, thanks, Aaron. I’ve just learned how to make a Negroni, a Tom Collins, a Bramble, an Aviation, a Singapore Sling, a French 75…’ I count them out on my fingers.
‘Very good.’ He nods awkwardly. ‘And colleagues? How are you getting on with everyone?’
‘Oh, err… great, yes.’ I’m smiling, while my insides contract. ‘Everyone’s really nice. I’m feeling very welcome.’
‘Very good,’ he repeats himself, his eyes narrowing slightly. ‘Well, keep up the good work.’
‘Thanks. I will,’ I say to his back, as he’s already on his way out the door.
‘You are big fat liar, Chica.’ Reyes giggles when he has gone.
‘Sorry?’ I turn to her.
‘Everyone is not nice. Everyone else is nice, but the beast is not.’
‘Yeah, like I’m going to tell him that.’ I put my hands on my hips and give her an appraising look. ‘Would you?’
‘I am not his favourite, like you.’ She gives me a mischievous smile, and without thinking, I throw a bar towel at her – then look around me in terror in case Clara is lurking in one of the corners of the bar.
Chapter 10
For the next couple of weeks, I manage to keep my encounters and interactions with Clara to a minimum. Thankfully, she has two other bars to run as well, so she’s not breathing down our necks the whole time. That said, she does expertly materialise out of nowhere regularly, and when I least expect it, behaving in a manner not too dissimilar to the character of Regan MacNeil in The Exorcist.
As a rule of survival, I reply politely when she asks me a question, avoiding any additional unnecessary conversation. I keep the chat and banter with Reyes and Amir to a minimum, particularly when the bar is busy and Clara might ambush us. I also return from all my breaks five minutes early, and even buy a book about gin and swot up in between job-hunting, to make sure Clara can’t catch me out that way.
There’s no sign of Josh, who it turns out is on holiday and then a training course. So, I eat alone in the canteen. To my relief, my feet and back become less sore with each passing shift, which helps me to feel ever so sl
ightly less miserable. But all the time, in the front of my mind – even though I couldn’t ask for better workmates in Reyes and Amir, and I am really enjoying getting to know them – is the desperate, almost unbearable need for this to come to an end.
Having to downgrade my brand of gin and cut out the champagne has been the least of my worries. With every passing day, every job rejection, every death stare from Clara, I’m painfully aware that if I don’t catch a break in my career soon, there may be no way back.
‘What is on your mind, Chica?’ Reyes asks me one Wednesday evening when the bar is uncharacteristically quiet. ‘You can tell me anything.’
‘It’s nothing.’ I let out an involuntary sigh.
‘You cannot fool me, Liv. I see you. I watch how you are. You are unhappy.’
‘It’s complicated, Reyes.’ I try to put her off. ‘Probably not a conversation for work.’
‘Then we will have it out of work.’ She smiles at me sympathetically. ‘We go for a drink on day off tomorrow, yes?’
I look at her and suddenly feel an overwhelming need to share. I’ve been holding everything in for so long. I’ve discussed my situation only with Dylan, whose natural sway towards a big-brother-style tough-love approach is effective, but not always easy to accept. I need some more caring support too.
‘OK, sure. Let’s do that.’
‘Did I hear you say you’re going out tomorrow night?’ Amir, who’s in the middle of changing one of the beer kegs, pops his head round the door of the storeroom.
‘Yes, but it is chicas only. No men allowed,’ Reyes reprimands him.
‘I can be one of the girls – if you let me borrow your clothes,’ he teases her. ‘Maybe one of your sexy little numbers. I’m about the right size.’
Reyes tuts at him noisily.
‘Just kidding.’ He reaches round the door and gives her a playful push. ‘I’m working anyway. Someone’s got to pick up the slack while you two go off gallivanting – and on a Thursday night as well. Who authorised that?’
‘Yeah, I’m surprised too,’ I say. ‘I wouldn’t have thought we’d both be given time off together on one of the busiest nights of the week.’