Chapter 9 Freddie
Freddie
Shaun’s car is an icebox.
I wait in the passenger seat, teeth chattering, while he de-ices the front windscreen. Still, I’m not complaining. After my frigid sprint across town this morning in the dark, I was dreading having to walk home again.
At least Shaun believed my tiny fib about missing the bus.
The truth—that I didn’t have enough cash to buy a ticket—was far too pathetic to admit.
With the tips I earned today, it’s not like I have that problem anymore!
But even with my pocket lined with a fat twenty, I’d rather get a lift home from my sexy boss.
I guess this is one of those “employee benefits” I’ve heard so much about, though Anna did mention Shaun wasn’t in the habit of giving his staff a ride home.
Guess that means I’m getting the special treatment.
Shaun finishes shifting the ice and clambers into the driver’s seat, shutting the door behind him.
“Right,” he turns on the engine. “Cherry Street, you said?”
I nod. “Not too out of your way, I hope?”
Shaun gives a small smile. “It’s fine.”
We pull away and drive off along the esplanade, the windscreen wipers squeaking as they struggle to keep up with the deluge of wet sleet.
There aren’t many people on the pavement, but those who are look thoroughly miserable.
One lady is fighting a losing battle with an inverted umbrella as the wind threatens to snatch it away.
As we leave the rows of shops behind, a wave breaks over the sea wall, the spray reaching halfway across the street when it lands.
“Classic Scottish winter,” I observe.
“Mmm.”
“You said you’re from here? You don’t have much of an accent.”
“My folks are English. I sound more like them.”
“I see,” I say, before adding, “It’s a nice accent. I like it.”
Shaun doesn’t respond. He’s being oddly quiet. It could be he’s focusing on the road? I know Rory’s like that when he drives. Still, we go the entire length of the seafront without uttering another word.
We arrive at a crossroads just as the light turns red. Shaun slows the car down and, as he pushes the clutch, my eyes are drawn to his thigh. Now we’re sitting so close, I see it’s about twice the size of mine. This is undoubtedly a man who squats. What a perfect conversation starter.
I put on my flirting voice, which is basically just my normal voice but slower, and say, “So, Shaun, do you work out?”
The gearbox grinds as Shaun accidentally selects the wrong gear. He rectifies it quickly and clears his throat. “Um, I used to. Not so much time nowadays with the café. Why?”
His voice is laced with suspicion. I keep it cool.
“Just curious. The only person I’ve met with legs like that is my brother. He’s into bodybuilding; lives off chicken, rice, and protein shakes. You’d probably get on well, by the looks of you.” I look him up and down. “You have a really nice build.”
“Right.” Shaun shifts nervously in his seat. “Well, I played rugby at uni, but now I basically live off brownies and flat whites,” he glances sideways at me, “which are made with…?”
He’s changing the subject. That’s fine, I’ll bite.
“Espresso and steamed milk!” I rattle off, on autopilot.
“Correct!” Shaun confirms. “And are they bigger or smaller than a latte?”
I humour him, pretending to think about it even though I know the answer.
“Bigger!” I say, proudly.
Shaun blinks. “Guess again.”
Shit.
“Only kidding,” I announce, in what I hope is a convincing tone, but inside I’m gutted I got it wrong again. I’m never going to learn all these stupid drinks.
The lights turn green and the car jerks forward. Is Shaun always this bad at driving? Maybe I’m putting him off.
“I never really liked the gym,” I explain, taking the reins again. “I get bored too fast. I’d rather do some sit-ups at home and save my money for nights out.”
Shaun accelerates as we approach a hill.
“Are you a night owl?” he asks.
“I guess.” I grin as I have a lightbulb moment. “Do you know Sabre?”
“Nope,” says Shaun, unsurprisingly. “Is that a bar?”
“It’s a club,” I clarify. “A gay club. The only one in West Marbank.”
Shaun blushes. He’s so cute I almost can’t take it. “Oh! No, I’ve never been. Is it, um, nice?”
“Depends on your definition of nice. It’s… sticky.” Shaun meets my eye in the rear-view mirror and I wink at him. “Who knows, maybe you’d like it.”
Shaun says nothing. Too much?
The buildings start to shrink as we leave the town centre. Soon, we’re driving through the quiet residential suburbs where most of the houses look identical. I direct Shaun through the web of lanes and cul-de-sacs until we reach Cherry Street.
“It’s this one,” I say, pointing out Rory’s bungalow. Shaun parks up on the left next to the empty driveway. No car—Rory must be out.
“Alright,” Shaun puts on the handbrake but leaves the engine running. “Well done for surviving your first shift.”
“Thank you!” I undo my seatbelt and twist around to face him. “And thanks for the lift home. It’s really nice of you.”
“Well, don’t get used to it,” he says. There’s a strange tightness to his voice which Shaun himself seems to notice as he quickly shakes his head. “Sorry, I’m shattered. Next time you see me, hopefully I’ll be better rested.”
“When will that be?” I ask.
Shaun stifles a yawn. “Anna will put you on the rota tomorrow. You’ll learn a lot from her, so listen to everything she says.”
That should be easy. Anna’s not as easy on the eyes as Shaun so I’ll probably be a lot less distracted.
“Will do!” I give him a thumbs up. Then, because I’m feeling bold, “Thanks, handsome.”
A shadow falls over Shaun’s face. The corner of his mouth twists like he’s sucking on something sour. Not the reaction I was expecting.
He meets my gaze and I’m shocked to see genuine hurt in his eyes.
“Freddie, I should warn you that comments like that are not really acceptable in the workplace.”
A heavy stone lands in my gut. Really not the reaction I was expecting.
“Well, we’re not technically in the workplace!” I joke, though Shaun doesn’t crack a smile. Shit, have I read this wrong? No. If there’s one thing I know, it’s when a guy is checking me out and he was definitely checking me out. “Sorry, I thought maybe you liked—”
“No.” Shaun says firmly and the stone in my belly grows heavier.
He sighs, anxiously drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.
“Listen Freddie, I understand this is just how you are, but already some of your behaviour has been a little too close to the line. I probably should have said something sooner, but as your boss I have to shut this down right now.”
Embarrassment trickles down my spine like mercury. It’s not a feeling I’m used to.
“I… it wasn’t serious. Sorry, Shaun. I’m just a bit of a flirt and—”
“I know,” says Shaun, like he’s already got me totally figured out. “And that’s fine but you might want to tone it down at work. Especially if it makes your colleagues uncomfortable.”
Shit, shit, shit. If this car had an ejector seat, I’d have pushed it by now.
This was not what I wanted. At all. I don’t know exactly what I did want, but feeling like a predator definitely wasn’t it.
Did I think Shaun and I would end up fucking?
Honestly, maybe. Usually that’s the way it goes when guys look at me the way I thought Shaun had been.
Admittedly, he’s not looking at me like that now, but even if we had ended up in bed together, I hadn’t really considered what would happen next.
I guess that was my bad. Not that it matters now, as clearly this isn’t going to happen.
“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling about twelve years old.
I comb through my panicked thoughts for an excuse—that this is my first job and I didn’t understand the etiquette, or something similar—but there’s no point.
I knew what I was doing and I’m not about to lie to him.
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just thought maybe… you know.”
Shaun swallows and looks down at the pedals.
“It’s okay, Freddie. Thank you for apologising. Enjoy your afternoon and I’ll see you at work.”
That’s it. End of conversation.
I open my door and cold air spills inside the car. As I sidle out, Rory’s words echo around my head.
Flirting with your boss is like asking for your P45.
A sly google last night taught me exactly what that meant and suddenly, the threat of homelessness rears its ugly head again. I can’t lose this job; I’ve only had it one bloody day! Before I shut the door, I crouch down and stick my head inside the car once more.
“I’m really sorry.” I double-down so he knows I mean it. “Thank you for not firing me.”
Shaun’s lips press together, not quite a smile, but not far off. He scratches his beard.
“No problem. Let’s start afresh, okay?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
I shut the door and Shaun pulls away. He does a sloppy three-point turn then drives back down the street and out of sight, leaving me feeling like the biggest tit in West Marbank.
Hell, I’d go so far as to say the biggest tit in both West and East Marbank, and that’s saying something.
As anyone who went to West Marbank High knows, East Marbank is—for no discernible reason beyond petty high school rivalries—full of wankers.
I let myself into the house, hanging up my jacket and making a beeline for the fridge.
There’s very little inside besides Rory’s meal-prep Tupperwares.
One labelled “beef stir-fry” catches my eye—after missing breakfast and spending all morning on my feet, I’m one stomach rumble away from eating my own hand.
Rory won’t mind if I eat one… I think. In fact, I know he won’t mind because I’m not going to tell him.
I chuck the Tupperware in the microwave and set the timer to two minutes. Shaun’s words from the car echo in my mind as I watch the time tick down. Nothing he said was even the slightest bit mean or unfair—if anything, he was nicer than I deserved given he didn’t, in fact, want to get in my pants.
Or so he says.