Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
WILL
Day One
Two topless men are pressed so close to me in the elevator I can guess their age to be around late thirties.
Their Speedos stretch with what they contain, and when I smile at them out of politeness, they return it with toothy grins.
I thought there would be more of a dress code in public areas.
They’re eying me in my clothes like I’m supernatural.
I’m no prude and I’m all for body positivity and expressing yourself; I simply have good old-fashioned envy when I look at these European men.
How effortlessly cool they are, standing on either side of me wearing nothing but tight Lycra.
They get out on the first floor, leaving me flustered in their wake.
The elevator doors open to the hotel lobby, revealing richly dressed people like contestants on a game show. Lydia, behind her desk, looks in my direction at the sound of the ding of the elevator, and I give her a wave. Her expression remains blank and she turns back to her screen.
Checking the time, glancing outside, there’s no sign of Sam. Which means I have time to kill. Which means I have to befriend Lydia if this hotel is going to be even remotely enjoyable.
She sees me approaching, and with my every step her shoulders rise, until I’m at the counter. Her nostrils flare and I swear I see smoke.
‘Hi.’
‘Is your room satisfactory?’
I decide not to tell her about Tim and Jemima. What people do in their own rooms is none of my business, even if they do talk to me on the balcony stark bollock naked. Besides, here in Athens I’m cool Will. Breezy Will. I’m open and liberated. Yamas!
‘Yes, it is.’
Her fingers type on the keyboard, as if she’s putting feedback into the machine.
There’s a glass dispenser to the side of the reception desk, with ice-cold water garnished with cut lemon and an abundance of mint. With slightly trembling hands, I turn the small tap and fill my clean glass with water, taking a sip.
‘Can you do that somewhere else?’
I eye Lydia over my glass. ‘Wow, this is fresh.’
Lydia says nothing, eyes narrowing, staring me down. I’m glad she’s not a Gorgon.
‘Did you prepare this yourself?’
Lydia closes her eyes before answering. ‘Yes.’
‘Well, you did a fantastic job. Cheers to that.’ I hold my glass out, and Lydia recoils. ‘Sorry about that.’
‘Mm.’
She’s typing away and I subtly take a look at her screen. ‘That doesn’t look like work.’
‘It helps me relax.’
Pixelated buildings blow up on her screen as she hammers away at the keys. With a frisson of fear, I think I see hotel guests meeting their demise. ‘Do you … uh, like your job, Lydia?’
‘No.’
‘Right.’
‘Do you like yours?’
‘No.’
‘No,’ Lydia says. ‘Nobody likes their job. We have all trapped ourselves in this system.’
‘Right on.’
She stares at me. ‘Are you going to annoy me all evening?’
‘Oh.’ So maybe this whole friendship thing isn’t going to happen. Fine. Even though it wounds me, I’ll have to accept it. ‘Um, no, I’m just waiting for…’
‘Your ex?’
‘I wish.’ I baulk. ‘Who said that? No, uh…’
‘You know someone else in Greece?’
‘Actually, I do.’ This is good. Even footing. We’ve already established we hate our jobs, and now she knows I have some connection here. We’re on course for victory. ‘Old friend from childhood. Yeah, we go way back.’
She doesn’t need to know we lost touch.
She shrugs. ‘I don’t care for the particulars.’
‘Oh.’
‘I am glad you’re not seeing your ex.’
‘You are?’
‘Don’t get hopeful. I don’t care that much.’
‘Right. But you care enough that I’m not seeing him.’
Her lips purse. ‘I don’t care for the particulars.’
‘That’s a fun expression of yours,’ I muse. But my cocky humour dies when she cocks an eyebrow. ‘Lydia, can I ask you something?’
She leans against the counter, resting her cheek against her fist. At the same time, something explodes, and some poor NPC screams on the screen. ‘I’m about to finish my shift.’
‘That’s great, but this will be quick.’
She leans up, laboriously slow. ‘Well?’
I pull at the collar of my T-shirt. ‘It’s about the ex, seeing as you seem so invested.’ She says nothing. ‘Well, I thought maybe I might get him back.’
She plays with her necklace, a cross dangling from it. ‘You plan to take him away from his fiancé?’
‘When you say it like that…’
‘Homewrecker.’
My mouth drops. Surely, she’s not allowed to say this to me? ‘What did you just call me?’
‘Home. Wrecker. I don’t condone it.’
‘Well, I don’t either, it’s just—’
Her hand rises. For one horrible moment I think she might slap me. ‘I don’t want excuses. Your ex is marrying someone else and instead of coming here to celebrate that, you have come here to ruin his life.’ She feigns spitting on the floor. At least I hope it’s fake.
‘I wanted to ask your opinion, find out if I’m doing the right thing.’ I could run this by Alice, but Alice is too involved. A stranger’s perspective was my get-out clause. My knees buckle and I steady myself on the counter.
She’s right. This flimsy idea I had to come here and try and stop Ollie marrying someone else is ridiculous. It’s evil. It’s selfish and twisted. ‘I’ve been doubting it myself. I don’t think I should do it.’
She places her hands on the table, leaning towards me. ‘If you can’t accept your ex’s new partner, I’d say you shouldn’t even be here. But who am I to judge? I don’t concern myself with the particulars.’
I want to tell her that she’s judging me now. I want to tell her that her moral philosophy is no good to me. But I don’t, because I’d die.
‘Thanks, Lydia. You’ve been… helpful.’
She presses a button, the game ends, and then she logs out. ‘Thank God this shift is over.’
I walk out into the haze of the dwindling day in a daze, chewing the corner of my lip. I’m not this sort of guy. I’ve never been this sort of guy. I’ve become some horribly selfish person and I don’t like it.
‘How’s your hotel?’ Sam, fully clothed, wearing a tight black T-shirt with the Power Rangers logo on the front, asks me.
I’m overwhelmed by memories as I observe the electric bolt that bursts against his chest, as if he wields it himself.
His hands tucked in the pockets of black jean shorts, the setting sun casting his skin in a sweet glow, he grins, always grinning.
Infectious.
‘Oh, yes, love it.’ I wouldn’t let him know about Tim and Jemima. ‘Very plush. Luxury. I got an upgrade.’
‘You did?’ Sam claps his hands together. ‘Sounds perfect.’
‘It is.’
Breathing the Athens air calms my nerves. Sam calms my nerves.
‘Power Rangers?’ We stroll down a cobbled street where the smell of garlic and spices makes my stomach rumble. There’s a market street in the distance, looking lively. Restaurants are starting to come alive with evening diners.
‘Go, go!’ Sam punches the air.
‘Do you remember we used to play that game every time we could?’
‘Not at all.’
‘Are you serious?’ I ask. ‘You were always Tommy.’
‘Tommy?’
‘The green ranger.’ This isn’t okay. How could he forget something so important?
‘Hmm, doesn’t ring a bell…’
I stop at the corner of a street, where an antique furniture shop is closing up for the day.
‘Come on, remember,’ I say. ‘We’d run around outside. You’d be ka-powing as Tommy, and I was Kimberly.’ I karate chop his chest, sure that I’m hurting my hand.
Sam laughs, and my face falls.
‘Of course, I remember playing Power Rangers,’ he says. ‘I just wanted you to tell me about playing pink ranger. And that demonstration was … intimidating.’
‘I’ll have you know, Kimberly was the best ranger, and I suited pink well,’ I say. ‘I still do.’
‘To be fair, sometimes you were Jason.’
‘That’s because red was my favourite colour,’ I say. ‘And he was my sexual awakening.’
My shoulders relax at Sam’s laugh, which is warm, just like him. I beam back at him. He’s so carefree, and he makes me realise how much is missing in my life back home. Other than Alice, it’s rare to find someone who can make me relax, even just for a little.
‘I remember your mum didn’t like us jumping off the bed when we were fighting Rita.’
‘That’s because she was part of Rita’s evil plan, remember?’ I say. ‘The adults were always on the bad side.’
‘Remember when you had nit shampoo in and you were screaming—’
‘“Power Rangers don’t need nit shampoo!”’ I mock-scream, as Sam bursts out laughing. ‘Yeah, not my finest moment, but it’s true. I embodied red ranger and I was not happy having to wear nit shampoo. Which, by the way, I think was because of you.’
‘You think I gave you nits?’
‘We were inseparable, so, yeah.’
Sam runs a hand through his tangled hair. ‘I think I might have something for you.’
‘You need some shampoo?’
Sam lets his hair fan out. ‘I think I still have my green ranger costume somewhere.’
‘You don’t?’ I gasp. ‘Surely you don’t fit into it anymore.’
‘Not the one I had back home,’ Sam says. ‘A year or two ago I went to a Comic Con and went as him.’
Comic Con? Sam?
‘You’re kidding me.’
‘Hey, Comic Con is cool.’
‘Yes, it is,’ I say.
I mean it. I loved going to Comic Cons in my early adulthood dressed as Nathan Drake to different convention centres around the country. Sometimes I’d be a Hunger Games tribute, or Luke Skywalker. I almost went as Ash Ketchum, but Ollie put an end to that.
Ollie didn’t like Comic Cons. He came with me once, and I had so much fun meeting voice actors, movie stars and artists, but Ollie lingered in the background. When the event finished, he’d told me it was a ‘room of weirdos’, and that we shouldn’t go again.
So, we didn’t.
It was fine. I could live without Comic Con.
We stop at a zebra crossing, a Renault car letting us pass. Despite the evening, many people walk around in loose-fitting shorts, vests, some are even topless. I’m glad I’m wearing my breathable trousers, with the smartest T-shirt I could find tucked at the waist.
‘Sam, do you mind if I ask something?’
‘Shoot.’
‘Why is your coffee shop called No Name Coffee Shop?’