The Gin Lover's Guide to Dating: A sparkling and hilarious feel good romantic comedy

by Nina Kaye

  ‘Just enjoy it,’ says Amir. ‘It won’t happen often. Anyway, I’m on with the lads tomorrow – Marcel and Piotr. Looking forward to an oestrogen-free zone.’

  He gives me a wink and I shake my head at him, knowing full well he’s just trying to wind Reyes up. Thankfully, it appears that she hasn’t yet learned the English words for hormones, so another one-sided war doesn’t erupt.

  ‘You’d have been very welcome to join us,’ I say. ‘One day when we all have time off together.’

  ‘Chance would be a fine thing.’ Amir rolls his eyes and then disappears back into the storeroom.

  Just as we’re using the quiet time to get a few extra bar maintenance tasks done, there’s a loud commotion outside on the street. It’s getting dark outside, but I can see a large group of after-work drinkers making their way towards the revolving doors of the bar. They’ve obviously already been elsewhere, their boisterousness giving this away.

  Reyes and I share a look that says, here we go. Having an easy night was obviously too much for us to expect.

  The group enjoy much hilarity trying to navigate the revolving doors, which spit them out into the bar, two at a time, looking slightly dishevelled. I pay them little attention as I clear away the cleaning materials I’ve been using to polish the bar top. I’m now used to dealing with all kinds of punters. But on returning to the bar, I glance over to the group, who are now deliberating over where to sit, and stop short.

  ‘Oh. SHIT!’ I instinctively dive into the storeroom.

  It’s not just any pack of well-oiled office workers, it’s my pack of well-oiled office workers. I peer round the door and see Anya bouncing up and down, chatting animatedly to Stella, Tom trying to engage a disinterested and glued-to-his-phone Derek in conversation, Sharon preaching her usual distasteful garbage to a flock of awestruck onlookers, and Dom and Marta are engaged in what can only be described as serious sexual tension, despite the fact they’re both married to other people and have kids.

  ‘What is wrong, Chica?’ Reyes enters the storeroom, regarding me quizzically. ‘This is fine. They are a bit loud, yes, but you are used to this now.’

  I look at her helplessly. She has no idea. I can’t go out there and let them see me. It will be professional and social suicide. What are they even doing here? It’s completely the other side of town for them – they usually hang out in the most popular and exclusive West End and city centre haunts. I realise there’s only one thing for it if I’m to avoid total humiliation: I have to tell the truth.

  ‘Reyes, they’re my friends. Well some of them, anyway. They’re all ex-colleagues.’

  ‘So, that is good, no?’ She looks confused. ‘You can say hello and spend some time with them.’

  ‘Nooo. It’s not good.’ I start to shake with anxiety. ‘They don’t know I work here. I told them I had some amazing communications job – so that they wouldn’t think I was a loser. They can’t see me. They just can’t.’ My eyes are pleading.

  ‘But if they are your friends—’ Reyes is clearly still trying to understand ‘—why would they think this? They should be supporting you.’

  I don’t have an answer for this.

  ‘What’s up?’ Amir looks from my terrified face to Reyes, as he comes up the steps from the cellar, having fitted the new beer keg.

  ‘Amir, why Liv’s friends are thinking she is loser for working here?’ Reyes asks.

  ‘If they were real friends, they wouldn’t.’ He gives me a searching look, then his eyes land on my ex-colleagues through the open storeroom door, and a flicker of comprehension crosses his face. ‘Ah, I see. Are these your old drinking buddies from when you worked in the corporate world?’

  ‘How did you know that?’ I’m stunned.

  ‘Educated guess.’ Amir shrugs. ‘Doesn’t take a genius to work out what type of company this lot are from. And it was even more obvious that you weren’t a bar worker by trade.’

  ‘Good detective skills.’ I sigh defeatedly, chewing on one of my perfectly (now self-manicured) nails.

  ‘Oh, Chica.’ Reyes puts her arm around me. ‘You should not feel like this. I am hating this for you.’

  ‘Don’t worry.’ Amir pats my arm. ‘Why don’t you find some more cleaning tasks to complete in here and we’ll deal with this lot. It’s still quiet enough, even with that lot in.’

  ‘Yes, this will work,’ Reyes agrees. ‘You stay back here.’

  ‘Thank you both so much. I really owe you for this.’ I’m flooded with temporary relief at this suggestion.

  Reyes and Amir head out into the bar, leaving me alone, glad of the reprieve but still reeling. I pick up the list of bar maintenance and cleaning tasks, but the words swim in front of my face. What if they decide they like this place and it becomes a regular haunt for them? I won’t be able to hide every time. I’m so lost in panic and dismay, I fail to notice Clara’s swooping approach from behind.

  ‘Liv. What are you doing?’ she barks, as she towers over me menacingly.

  With my blood pressure already soaring, Clara’s surprise entrance nearly finishes me off.

  ‘Oh… err… hi, Clara. I’m… umm… just doing bar maintenance, while it’s a bit quieter. Reyes and Amir suggested I do that.’

  ‘Did they?’ She peers at me with suspicion. ‘Well, it looks like you’ll be needed out front after all. Some more customers have just walked in.’

  ‘I… err… I’m sure they can manage.’ I’m on severely shaky ground, but my survival instincts are in such conflict, I’m willing to take the risk. ‘Some of the tasks on this list are really overdue. I can help the bar team get on top of things after being so busy recently.’

  I’m hoping the ‘team’ reference will work, and I can see Clara mulling this over. Then, to my alarm, she looks out across the bar at my ex-colleagues. I can almost see the thoughts processing in her mind.

  ‘That group that just came in.’ She narrows her eyes at me. ‘Do you know which company they’re from?’

  ‘Err… who knows?’ I try to sound genuinely unsure, but it’s pointless; she’s on to me.

  ‘Yes, Reyes and Amir definitely can’t manage this by themselves.’ Clara’s mouth curls up slyly at the corners. ‘An opportunity for you to do some of the running – get some practice with the Waiter Pad after your training.’

  What a bitch. Unfortunately, a smart bitch. She’s read the situation as easily as Amir did. This is her chance to either lose me for good for insubordination, or subject me to total humiliation.

  ‘Go on. Get their order in.’ She flicks her head towards my ex-colleagues.

  I have less than two seconds to make my decision. Face the humiliation, or risk losing the roof over my head. My pride screams at me to avoid this interaction at all costs. But I realise I have no choice. It could be weeks before I find and start another job, even doing bar work. Weeks of no income. I can’t afford that. And I could never face Aaron again if I got fired.

  Without saying a word, I put down the maintenance list and walk past Clara into the bar. Glancing to my left I see Reyes and Amir standing awkwardly, having clearly heard every word. Reyes mouths ‘sorry’, and I shake my head, communicating that an apology is not needed. Neither of them saw the beast coming, and even if they had, there was nothing they could have done.

  I pick up the Waiter Pad, and try to manage my breathing, as I add the table details on the screen. Then I slowly approach my friends and ex-colleagues, as if I’m walking to the stake.

  Chapter 11

  ‘Err… hi, guys. What can I get you?’ I murmur almost inaudibly as I reach the tables occupied by my friends and ex-colleagues.

  At first, they barely register my presence, too lost in their conversations and hilarity. Then Anya glances up and does a double take.

  ‘Liv? What are you doing here?’ Her face drains as she takes in my bar uniform and the Waiter Pad in my hand, and for a long moment she appears too taken aback to speak. ‘Do you… work here?’

  The
rest of the group look up suddenly; dozens of eyes, nearly sending me scarpering back to the store cupboard. There’s a clatter as Derek finally catches up, in his surprise, dropping his precious phone. Most of my friends and ex-colleagues just look genuinely shocked. But as my eyes land on Sharon, I can tell this has made her night. I realise I need to say something, but what?

  ‘I… err… what can I say? You’ve rumbled me.’ I hold my hands up jovially, and aim for a light-hearted chuckle, but it reverberates around the group pathetically, causing a few people to wince in embarrassment.

  ‘But, Liv, I thought you had an amazing new job.’ Anya looks stricken. ‘This isn’t it… is it?’

  I realise, caught out or not, I simply cannot bear to reveal the full truth. They just must not know that my career has bombed, and how much of a failure I actually am.

  ‘Oh… umm… of course not.’ I wave my hand flippantly. ‘This isn’t the job I told you about. Bit of a delay with my start date. Still working through their confidential restructure. They can’t bring me in until they’ve got it beyond the point where it may ruffle feathers.’

  I ignore the looks being shared among the group.

  ‘Right…’ Anya still looks confused. ‘And you’re working here because…?’

  ‘Because I know the General Manager. We worked together years ago.’ I intentionally leave out the fact that I actually worked for him. ‘We recently bumped into each other, and he mentioned that he was tight staffing-wise. So, I offered to help out while waiting to start my new job.’

  ‘Oh right. I see.’ Anya seems happy enough with this explanation. ‘Well, that was good of you, offering to help him like that.’

  ‘What’s the new job, Liv?’ Tom asks.

  ‘It’s a senior manager role – in communications.’

  ‘Great stuff. Well done you!’ Tom stands up and makes a show of giving me a bone-breaking congratulatory handshake-come-hug, while Anya beams at him adoringly. ‘Where’s it at?’

  ‘Err…’ I draw a sharp intake of breath to try and emphasise the level of confidentiality involved. ‘Can’t really share that right now. I’ve signed a non-disclosure agreement. You guys will be the first to know, though.’

  ‘OK… sure.’ Tom is now looking perplexed.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Sharon studying me curiously. She sits forward and puffs out her enormous bust.

  ‘A confidential restructure, you say?’ She fixes her gaze on me.

  ‘Err… yes.’ I shift a little on the spot.

  ‘And it’s a company in this city?’

  ‘Mmmm.’ I keep my reply non-committal, concerned about where she’s going with this.

  ‘That’s interesting…’ Sharon makes a show of racking her brain. ‘Because I’m very well connected – been around a long time, you know how it is – I don’t remember any contacts mentioning anything about a restructure as sensitive as that.’

  ‘That’s because it’s top secret.’ I nod affirmatively. ‘It would have huge implications for the share price, profits, everything, if it were to get out.’

  ‘Of course.’ Sharon recommences her hard deliberation. ‘See, the thing is, Liv. Nothing ever stays “top secret”. There’s always rumours, even information leaks. If by some miracle it has actually managed to stay off the rumour mill, I’m just wondering why they would tell you about something so sensitive; when you don’t even work for them yet. How do they know they can trust you?’

  There’s a stifled snigger from someone I’m unable identify on glancing insecurely at my ex-colleagues. I feel the burn in my cheeks as the humiliation sets in, and I process the double meaning in Sharon’s message. She knows fine well that I’m making this up, and she’s enjoying this game of cat and mouse; letting me hang myself.

  I look around the group, hoping to see at least a hint of disgust at Sharon’s behaviour. All I’m greeted with are faces of discomfort, pity or amusement. Even from Anya, who despite my gaze lingering on her in an appeal for some kind of support, refuses to make eye contact with me. My eyes shift towards the bar in desperation, hoping to find the sympathetic faces of Reyes and Amir. But instead of the encouragement I’m seeking, I make eye contact with a self-satisfied Clara, standing watching, her arms folded across her chest. She simply stares coldly at me for a couple of seconds, then sweeps out of the bar. This is just too much. I have to get away.

  ‘Well…’ I bluster. ‘Obviously, I’d love to fill you all in, but as I said, I can’t. I have more customers waiting. What can I get you?’

  Sharon looks like a pig in shit as I race round the group, taking their drinks orders as fast as possible. Anya and Tom are barely able to make eye contact with me as they relay their orders; Stella looks like she might faint. As soon as I can, I excuse myself. Returning to the bar – where Reyes and Amir are nowhere to be seen – I bolt for the store cupboard. Once inside and out of sight, I slide down the wall in despair, head in my hands, my heart racing.

  ‘Why did that have to happen? Why?’ I murmur inconsolably.

  ‘Chica, I am so sorry.’ Reyes’s voice comes from inside the store cupboard.

  I look up and see that she and Amir are standing just a few feet away. In my anguish, I didn’t even notice they were there.

  ‘Oh… sorry.’ Embarrassed, I stand up quickly and brush myself down.

  Reyes gives Amir a little nod and he quietly leaves the room to make up the drinks order, giving my shoulder a little squeeze as he goes.

  ‘It is OK. Come. Sit down.’ Reyes pulls a chair from the corner, which I slump into gratefully. ‘We could not watch anymore. Not like Clara. She is the beast.’

  My mind numb from what has just unfolded, I say nothing for a minute or so. I just sit silently, with Reyes holding my hand.

  ‘She really is a beast,’ I say eventually. ‘A nasty piece of work. And so is that bitch out there.’ I nod towards Sharon.

  ‘The loud one that is making strange noises when she laughs?’ Reyes asks.

  ‘That’s her,’ I confirm, realising I had never noticed that before.

  ‘She was your manager?’

  ‘She’s the director for the department. She has this following: people who want to be like her and be in her crowd. Even I did. Until she as good as fired me, and I met the real Sharon. She pretends to care about people, but she doesn’t care about anyone but herself and her career. Just like Clara, I suspect.’

  ‘She is devil in disguise.’ Reyes screws up her face angrily in a show of solidarity with my plight.

  ‘Yes. She is.’ I smile weakly at the fact that Reyes has used this particular turn of phrase correctly.

  ‘To me it feels like you are better to be away from this woman.’ Reyes squeezes my hand comfortingly.

  ‘I suppose. And I guess she’s part of the reason why I’ve avoided my friends for the last few months. That, and because I lied to them about having a new job.’

  ‘But, you can meet with your real friends without her, yes? Without the other colleagues?’

  ‘That’s not really how it works.’ I look at the floor miserably. ‘We all go out together in a big group. And it looks like she’s become a regular feature. Although… maybe I could speak with Anya… She’s pretty much my best friend…’

  I pause thoughtfully, before continuing.

  ‘You know, you’re right. Friends should support each other, no matter what. Maybe if I can chat with Anya alone, I can arrange another way of catching up with my actual friends, without the others. Then I wouldn’t feel ashamed.’

  ‘Yes, Chica.’ Reyes nods vigorously. ‘This is what you must do.’

  ‘I’ll see if I can speak to her tonight.’

  This thought perks me up enough to get me off my seat and working on some bits and pieces behind the bar, while Amir and Reyes serve my ex-colleagues and the handful of other customers. Keeping my distance, I watch Anya like a hawk.

  An hour or so later, I see my opportunity. Anya skips off to the Ladies and I move do
wn the corridor to the toilets. I hang around outside the door to the Ladies for about five minutes, all the time praying that Clara won’t reappear and sack me on the spot.

  Eventually Anya emerges through the door, and on seeing me, stops short.

  ‘Oh, Liv. You OK?’ she asks.

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ I’m unable to hide the urgency in my voice. ‘Listen, I just wanted a quick word. It’s been ages since we caught up, and I’ve really missed you.’

  ‘I’ve missed you too.’ Anya’s words ring true, but something doesn’t seem right; she looks uncomfortable.

  ‘I was wondering if maybe we could meet up, just you and me, so I can chat to you about some stuff. And then maybe you, me, Tom and a few of the others could get together? You know, so we don’t lose touch. You guys are my best friends and I really miss you all.’

  Instead of reacting warmly and affectionately to my sincere gesture of friendship, Anya now looks like a cornered animal; like I’ve just invited her to join some kind of crazy cult.

  ‘Oh… Liv. I’d love that. Really. Only I’d feel uncomfortable about making it some kind of exclusive group. And I’m really snowed just now. These nights out with the group are about all I can manage.’ She pauses for a second. ‘But you can totally join us on our next night out… that is, if you’re not working.’

  I scrutinise Anya silently for a few moments. She couldn’t look any less at ease: anxiously playing with the rings on her fingers, eyes darting all over the place. She’s desperate to get away.

  I’m beginning to doubt that Anya is my ‘best friend’. I’m suddenly seeing that she’s not a friend at all – no more than Tom, Stella or any of the others. Have I been fooling myself, thinking we had some kind of special connection and bond? Has it all been false: a façade based on not much more than a shared office, common expertise, and the politics that go with it? A hurt deeper than I knew possible slices through my consciousness. I realise I’m even more alone and hopeless than I had feared. I had been avoiding my so-called friends. But it had been on my terms, nothing more than self-preservation – and I’d expected to be able to pick things up again as soon as I’d sorted out my situation. How wrong have I been? I realise I need to wrap this up.