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

by Nina Kaye

  I drink in his words, reading them over and over. As I do, I feel an eruption of questions, thoughts and emotions. He thinks I should be proud? Of what I just shared? But my life was a car crash. A humiliating blot on the early pages of my copybook. Though he does say I should be proud of myself, not my family. I contemplate this for a moment and consider how much this man’s views mean to me. In many ways I don’t really know him at all, but when it comes to perspectives and intellectual and emotional depth, I know him well. Not just that, I have the absolute highest respect for him. His opinion means more to me than anyone’s.

  I realise he’s right. I did defy the statistics. I did exactly what I always encouraged Dylan to do – but I never allowed myself to appreciate that I had done it myself. I just saw it as my only chance of survival. I can be proud of that. But it doesn’t stop me being ashamed of, and embarrassed by my upbringing. I was the kind of human vermin people looked down on, wrinkled their noses at, even took a wide berth from when they passed me in the street. But was that my fault? I was just a child. A harmless, innocent child. I chose none of it. So why should I be ashamed?

  I let out a splutter of emotion as it dawns on me that I’ve been carrying this burden all my life. My parents – and in some ways, the rest of society – were the ones who more or less abandoned me to become almost feral. And who was it that dug and dug, and eventually climbed out of that hole? Me. With no help from anyone else – except maybe Dylan and Mrs Patterson.

  Tears begin to roll down my cheeks for the first time since I was a small child. And this time, I let them. For years I’ve hidden away from this. I’ve batted back Dylan’s criticisms of my refusal to acknowledge my background and past, because it was just too painful, too humiliating. I realise Graham is right. I need to face this, and allow myself to be OK with it. And I need to find a way to feel the pride he describes.

  Wiping the splatter from a few rogue tears off my keyboard, I thoughtfully type out a reasonably short, but heartfelt message of gratitude.

  MissGinFizz: You may not know me that well, but somehow, you’ve reached into the very core of my soul. I’ve spent years running and hiding, unable to grasp at logic because it was just too raw. Somehow, you’ve picked the lock; now, finally I feel like I can start to undo the chains. I honestly can’t thank you enough. If you don’t mind, I’d like to go to bed now. I suddenly feel exhausted, like I’ve scaled a mountain. But I would very much like to chat again tomorrow, if you would too?

  He responds almost immediately.

  GrahamLeeton: Absolutely, MissGinFizz. I completely understand. And I look forward to it. I’m glad you feel you can start to move on. Goodnight.

  Chapter 26

  I’ve seen a lot of forward people in my time: men and women.

  The pushy guy who relentlessly propositions his disinterested target (and I say target because that’s all she is to him), firing out one cringeworthy line after the next. And on finally admitting defeat, he moves straight on to the next ‘most beautiful woman he’s ever seen in his life’.

  Then there’s the determined female who’s decided that this is the man she simply must have: the perfect accessory to drape over her arm, alongside her Michael Kors handbags and her Gucci watch. They’d have the most beautiful children ever – of course!

  I’ve seen all that. But I’ve never seen anything quite like this.

  The unassuming datee innocently sips at a classic gin martini (a simple, laid-back combination of dry gin, dry vermouth and a lemon twist to garnish), while grazing on a complimentary bowl of cashews, peacefully scrolling through his phone. His wait is relaxed, unanticipatory.

  She enters the bar, scanning the room hungrily, and quickly spots her prey (aka this poor unassuming man). For a moment she simply stands there, sizing him up. I swear I even see her lick her chops (sorry, lips!). Then, slowly and calculatedly, she stalks her way across the bar towards him.

  He doesn’t hear her coming. His defences are down. This is his fatal error. She’s just two feet away when he finally looks up, but it’s too late. She takes her opportunity and pounces. If this were the jungle or wilderness, a brutal, cruel assassination would immediately follow, blood and body parts on full display as the more sinister side of nature took its course.

  This is far more terrifying.

  ‘Oh, you are just delicious,’ I hear her purr. ‘I will so be having you for dessert.’ The man gulps as the realisation dawns. He’s not getting out of this with his pride.

  What follows is a game of cat and mouse so painful to watch, I almost feel the need to intervene. She toys with her victim: physically and psychologically bats him around like a bit of meat. To her, he is nothing more than a chew toy for her to poke, prod and paw at. She pauses only briefly to order a rather fitting Hanky Panky (a mischievous mix of gin, sweet vermouth, a double dash of Fernet-Branca, and a strip of orange peel to serve). At one point, I become concerned that she might actually swallow him whole. And the man, dazed and disoriented, just lets it happen. He has no defence against this perplexing ‘assault’.

  After what feels like an inordinate amount of time spent fearing for this man’s safety and sanity, the woman eventually pays up and drags him off to what I can only assume is her lair.

  I spend the rest of the evening wondering what became of the poor bloke, and whether, once out in the open, he was able to make a successful bid for freedom.

  This week I’m making two recommendations – one for each scenario. If you believe he got away, toast him with a Raspberry Gin Bellini (a lively, fizzing combination of champagne, raspberry gin liqueur, a dash of lemon juice and fresh raspberries), and if you think he was a goner at the hands of this predator, please raise a Black Widow (a dark, mildly foreboding mix of gin, fresh blackberries, basil leaves, fresh lime juice and agave nectar) to his memory.

  As usual, featured cocktail recipes are below. Looking forward to your verdicts!

  ‘Hola, Chica. You are good?’ Reyes greets me with her usual European-style kisses as I enter the bar the next afternoon at 5 p.m.

  ‘I’m great actually.’ I give her a big smile.

  ‘What is this?’ Reyes cocks her head to one side curiously. ‘I am seeing different chica today.’

  ‘I think you are,’ I agree. ‘For the first time in months… no… make that years, I feel genuinely content and free.’

  ‘Dios mio!’ Reyes pretends to faint. ‘I am not knowing this chica at all. Where is Liv? What you do with her?’

  ‘Very funny.’ I laugh, giving her a playful nudge. ‘I’m serious. I feel like everything is going well again. Better, in fact, than it was before I lost my job.’

  ‘I am very happy that this is true.’ Reyes starts to empty the glass washer, and I pitch in to help. ‘But you must tell me, why you are thinking this?’

  ‘For lots of reasons.’ I shrug. ‘I feel like I’m being myself again for a start. My blog has really taken off – I have over twelve and a half thousand subscribers now – and I’m starting to make some money from it—’

  ‘Chica, this is amazing! Come to me.’ Reyes puts away the glass she’s holding, and gives me a huge hug. ‘I am subscribing, and I read your new post this morning. It is so much fun. And so real. That chica last night, she is… wow! I never see anything like this.’

  ‘Me neither.’ I shake my head at the memory. ‘I’ve seen her in here before, with friends or colleagues, but never with a man.’

  ‘I am very hoping that this man is still living.’

  ‘Me too.’ I giggle.

  Reyes stops what she’s doing and looks at me. ‘I am thinking this is not all. You are very different chica today. There is more with Josh, or your online hombre?’

  ‘Actually, yes.’ I nod slowly, weighing up how much to share. ‘Not with Josh though. With Graham. Last night—’

  ‘You meet him?’ Reyes interrupts me with wide eyes. ‘Dios mio – again! I say you meet him only with me and Dylan. What you are thinking?’

 
; ‘I didn’t meet him. Calm yourself.’ I shake my head at my friend. ‘I just had a really… enlightening conversation with him. One that made me realise two things: he’s bloody incredible, so I need to meet him soon or I’ll explode; and that I’ve been really shit to myself.’

  ‘I tell you this.’ Reyes shrugs. ‘Why this is news?’

  ‘No, you don’t get it.’ I suddenly feel almost wired with exhilaration. ‘He helped me see things in a way that no one else ever has. And he’s helping me make peace with things I’ve never shared with anyone. I mean, it will take a while, but I’m on my way – and that feels good. We were chatting again this morning, and I just felt such a connection with him. He really understands me… gets what makes me tick.’

  ‘If this is true,’ says Reyes, ‘then you are right. You must meet this man. But what this is meaning for you and Josh?’

  ‘That I don’t know.’ A creeping sadness begins to smother my positivity. ‘I think Josh is amazing. He’s so loyal and affectionate – and the chemistry between us is explosive. The thought of ending things between us makes me a bit sick. I’ve got strong feelings for him, no doubt about that. It’s such a horrible dilemma. And it’s not fair to Josh – me being so divided. He deserves better.’

  ‘Unless he sees other chicas too?’ Reyes suggests.

  ‘Yeah, that would make it all totally fine.’ I let out a weak laugh. ‘And for all I know, he might be. But from his actions, I suspect not.’

  ‘I tell you this.’ Reyes puts her hands on her hips, signalling that she’s about to make an important point. ‘I am thinking you must not end with Josh until you know who this Graham really is. If Graham is not what you have in your mind, and you are realising Josh is more than you think, then if you are losing him, this will be very bad. You comprende?’

  ‘I comprende.’ I nod apprehensively.

  As we’re chatting away easily, preparing for the busy evening ahead, Amir enters the bar, looking uncharacteristically troubled.

  ‘Hola, little man. Why you are looking so…’ Reyes searches for the right word.

  ‘Concerned?’ I suggest.

  ‘Yes.’ Reyes nods vigorously. ‘This is it. You are looking like… there are words on your shoulders.’

  ‘Huh?’ Amir glances at her distractedly.

  ‘I think she means you look like the world is on your shoulders,’ I clarify. ‘And she’s dead right. What’s up? Are you OK?’

  ‘I’m…’ Amir rubs his forehead. ‘Eh… oh man… I’m sorry, Liv, I have no choice but to do this. Can you come with me?’

  ‘Err… sure.’ I look from him to Reyes in confusion. ‘Where are we going? Do you need help with something?’

  ‘Look, do me a favour and don’t ask any questions, yeah?’ Amir looks sick.

  Faint alarm bells start ringing in my head – though I have no idea why. ‘OK, yeah, of course. I’ll come right now.’

  Amir turns and heads back out of the bar, leaving me to trail behind. I glance back at Reyes as I go. She simply shrugs and holds her hands out in a gesture of bewilderment. I begin to feel quite uneasy as I trot along behind a silent Amir through the echoing staff corridor, past the canteen until we reach a door I’ve never seen before. He opens it, steps inside and I follow.

  As I enter the room, which is very small, and hosts just a table with a laptop on it, and four chairs similar to those in the canteen, I gasp in surprise.

  ‘Josh. Hi. What are you doing here? What’s going on?’

  Josh, like Amir, doesn’t look himself at all.

  ‘Take a seat, will you, Liv.’ He doesn’t make eye contact.

  As I tentatively pull out a chair and sit down, my insides begin to churn. This feels eerily familiar. This time, I can tell at this early stage that something is very wrong. Amir walks round the table and takes a seat next to Josh. I wait silently for someone to speak, my heart pounding in my ears.

  ‘Liv,’ says Amir eventually. ‘We’ve had a complaint from a customer.’

  ‘Right.’ My eyes dart to Josh, hoping for some kind of reassurance, but he’s looking at the floor. ‘What’s it about?’

  ‘It’s pretty serious.’ Amir opens up the laptop and types in a password. ‘Liv, is this yours?’

  He turns the laptop round, and I immediately feel like I might pass out. Staring back at me from the screen, plain as day, is my blog site.

  ‘Oh no.’ My hand flies to my mouth in shock, my breathing suddenly shallow and irregular. ‘Yes… yes, it’s mine.’

  I realise there’s no point in denying it. I’ve been caught out.

  Amir puts his head in his hands and lets out a groan of exasperation. ‘I had hoped this was some kind of mistake.’

  ‘It’s… no mistake.’ I struggle to get the words out; my whole body is shaking inside. ‘How… how did you find out about it?’

  ‘A customer recognised her “situation” in this most recent post – although she didn’t quite agree with this rather… caricatured version of events.’

  ‘Shit.’ I bite my bottom lip anxiously.

  ‘She’s one of your subscribers,’ Amir continues. ‘But on this occasion, she didn’t see the funny side, as you can imagine. When I read it, I knew it had to be you, because that’s just too fluent and polished to be Reyes.’

  He gestures towards the laptop screen in frustration.

  ‘Oh shit, Amir… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’ I feel my face heating up. ‘I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt. I tried to keep it as anonymous as possible. This was never meant to happen.’

  ‘I’m sure it wasn’t, Liv,’ says Amir. ‘But the problem is that it has. This woman – who’s a regular customer – is demanding that you’re fired, or she’s going to the local press to out you. She’s pretty well connected. I don’t doubt that she’ll be successful in getting a headline that will – while protecting her anonymity – damage the reputation of the hotel, as well as harm the entire company.’

  As the enormity of the situation dawns on me, I feel sick with shame and humiliation. Having been a communications and PR professional, I know exactly the kind of headache this could cause for the hotel. I glance at Josh, hoping to get some kind of reaction from him, but his eyes remain fixed to the floor.

  ‘I’m so very, very sorry,’ I begin to babble. ‘I really am. There was no mal-intent, I promise. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I just… I was just trying to make some extra money so that I didn’t lose my apartment…’ I trail off realising how pathetic that sounds.

  ‘I know that you’ve had some challenges, Liv.’ Amir’s tone softens slightly. ‘And as your friend I’ve supported you, and I really hope you can work them out. But the problem is, I’m also now your manager. I realise the impact this will have for you financially and beyond, but I’m afraid I have no choice but to let you go.’

  As he says the words I am already expecting, it does nothing to soften the blow. I’ve just been fired for the second time in a matter of months. The first time at McArthur Cohen may not technically have been a dismissal, but that’s absolutely how it felt. And while back then it was due to circumstances beyond my control, now it is very much of my own doing.

  ‘Right.’ I sit back in my seat resignedly. ‘I totally understand. I’d do the same if I were in your position. So, what happens next?’

  ‘I’ll accompany you to your locker to get your things.’ Amir looks deeply pained as he says this. ‘Then I’ll escort you out of the hotel. That’s company policy, I’m afraid. Just as it is to have two departmental managers at any dismissal.’ He nods in the direction of Josh, as if to explain his presence.

  ‘OK, well, I guess let’s get it over with.’ I chew on my bottom lip anxiously.

  ‘Before I do,’ says Amir. ‘I just need to see to something urgent. I’ll be back soon.’

  To my surprise, Amir gets up and walks out of the room, leaving me alone with Josh, who continues to stare at the floor and say nothing. The tension in the room is almost unbearable, making it f
eel more like a prison cell than a workspace. I realise that Amir has left on purpose, to let us have a few moments alone before I go. Knowing I must take this opportunity, I look directly across the table at Josh, but he still refuses to meet my gaze.

  ‘Josh?’

  He doesn’t respond.

  ‘Josh, please,’ I plead with him. ‘I’m sorry. I know I’ve been an idiot, and I’ve embarrassed you. But that doesn’t need to affect us.’

  I reach over and try to take his hand, but he pulls it away forcefully, causing me to gasp in shock.

  ‘You think this doesn’t affect us?’ His eyes lift and meet mine defiantly.

  ‘It doesn’t have to,’ I say in a small voice.

  ‘OK, then how about you tell me this. Why didn’t I know about the blog? I thought you and I were getting close. But you obviously didn’t trust me because you hid it from me.’

  ‘I… no, that’s not it…’ I realise I don’t have an answer to this. ‘I guess… I needed as few people as possible to know about it to stay anonymous. And it would have put you in a difficult position if you knew. I wouldn’t have wanted you to feel conflicted. It was my risk, not yours. If you’d known, you might have gotten into trouble too.’

  ‘Wasn’t that my decision to make?’ He continues to stare me out till I can’t bear it any longer and look away. ‘I could have helped you to protect your anonymity better by reading through your posts before you published them. I could have suggested changes.’