37. Present Day – January
37
PRESENT DAY – JANUARY
JOSIE
I love sharing my art with people. Seeing their reaction to it. And Scott’s genuine delight with what I’d put together gives me a thrill. It’s the art, I tell myself as I try not to grin inanely — not his stupid rare smile that’s making me gooey.
As I sip on my drink, I flick through my sketchbook, past some yonic flowers, some new ideas for tattoos, quickly skimming over some disastrous portraits, before returning to the sketch for The Bull.
‘Hey, Josie?’
I look up to find Scott’s heated gaze on me. He holds eye contact for a beat longer than expected, and then looks down at my sketchbook. ‘Can I commission you to do some other work? To align with the new sign?’
A spark of pride flashes in my chest. ‘Yes!’ I glance around the pub, seeing a million opportunities to improve it.
‘I was thinking, can you turn that sketch into a logo, like a digital one, so I can get it on our t-shirts, and any paperwork and things.’
‘Oh.’ This wasn’t what I thought he meant at all . ‘Yes, easy. I can do that.’
‘Send me your rates. Invoice me or whatever. I’ll pay you properly.’
‘Sure.’ I try to force a smile. It’s still money in the bank.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Josie?’
Sigh. I preferred it when he called me Angel, but he’s not going to be dusting that off now, is he? In the spirit of being friends, I tell him the truth.
‘Well, I thought you meant like internally. Like creatively. But this is fine. I’ll make you a logo.’
Scott gives a nervous laugh and looks around. ‘Like, what internally?’
‘Well, your chalk board for one. Who even writes that? A five year old?’ I don’t let him answer. ‘Then there’s the cocktail menu. You could do something with that mirror behind the bar. What’s going on with the art on your walls? There is none . And the toilets? They’re prime opportunities to show some creativity, entertain people, advertise events even.’
‘But there’s?—’
‘Like, there’s a few old paintings of bulls and an ancient bull harness, and that’s it.’ I wince. ‘All your interior décor. It’s very early-twentieth-century countryside depression.’ A phrase springs from the random bullshit recesses of my brain and it’s off my tongue before I can think. ‘Bucolic colic.’
‘Wow.’ His eyebrows shoot up. ‘I knew a bit of a tweak was needed, but I didn’t realise you’d have such a strong … opinion.’
Oops.
I take a breath and wince. Carried away again . ‘I realise now, that might have been rude … sorry … but, you did ask.’
‘Ask I did. So when can you start?’
‘On the logo?’
‘No. Re-imagining the whole interior décor .’ His fingers make speech marks and smirks at me.
‘Let’s get your sign and your logo sorted first, and I’ll have a think. I’ll bring you some ideas next week.’
Another smile, and he turns back to his work.
I take a suck on my straw, the passionfruit dancing on my tongue like a mini tropical escape, and post a new sketch on my Instagram. After replying to a couple of messages, I log on to my Etsy store.
‘Fuck,’ I gasp.
‘What?’ Scott looks up from where he’s counting notes in the till.
‘Someone has just bought everything in my Etsy shop. Like everything .’ I can feel tears welling up, and a flood of warmth through my chest. ‘There isn’t a single original painting left.’
Scott jerks towards me and then seems to stop himself.
‘That’s great.’ He raises his hand for a high five. ‘Congratulations.’
An electric spark jolts through my arm as I slap his palm.
Stupid traitorous skin. Tears start to prickle for a different reason.
‘It’s a relief,’ I confess.
He tips his head, as if he’s inviting me to say more — molten eyes attentive — and, not for the first time, I feel myself spilling more than I should. Something about him makes me feel like I can open up. Makes me feel safe.
‘I’ve been saving up, but that’s hard when you live alone. There’s bills to pay, you know. This has … It’s like a weight off.’
The spark of pride from earlier kindles into a small fire, glowing and flickering inside my chest.
‘What have you been saving up for?’
‘It’ll never happen.’ I graze my teeth over my bottom lip. ‘It’s … silly.’
‘You can tell me.’ He holds his hands up like he’s surrendering. ‘I won’t judge.’
I can hear my mum’s voice in the back of my head saying it’s dangerous , that I’ll get in trouble , as I admit, ‘I’d love to go travelling.’
‘That’s not silly at all. Where?’
‘ Everywhere .’ I can’t stop my smile at the thought of it. ‘My friend is in Mexico at the moment, I’d love to visit her. Combine it with a tour of Central and South America. The world, really.’ The warm wooden beads on my bracelet twist under my fiddling fingers. I wish I had a pencil to get some of this nervous energy out.
There’s no derisive laugh from Scott, no belittling like I’m used to getting when I broach the subject at home. Instead, he’s nodding. ‘I wanted to go to Peru once upon a time. Do all of South America, actually.’
He pauses, as if he’s stopping himself from something, and then says softly, ‘I’m pleased someone realised how great your art is. I’m lucky to have you helping with the pub.’
Was that what he was really going to say?
Of course it was, we’re just friends.
My mangled heart feels like it’s being squeezed a little bit tighter.
Get over it, Josie.
He moves back to cashing up the till, and I go back on to my store page to make sure I haven’t imagined it all. Every. Painting. Sold. I puff out my cheeks in disbelief.
Watching Scott move around behind the bar makes my drink progressively harder to swallow. Annoyed at myself for being such a fucking simp, I log on to the dating app.
A familiar face shines back at me from a profile photo — Carl, the blond guy from the auction.
WannaPLay
Hey, how were those cocktails you won?
Great, so he saw me lose my shit, too. He’s still messaging, though, so maybe I didn’t scare him off. I tuck my hair behind my ear as I try to think of a witty response.
Clarkeaboutandfindout
Cocktails fine. Bartenders left a little to be desired. But one of them was my brother sooo …
WannaPLay
That explains a lot.
WannaPLay
Want to let me buy you a cocktail this time?
Clarkeaboutandfindout
Anywhere but The Bull would be good.
WannaPLay
Anywhere without your brother would be good.
Fucking Jamie.
Clarkeaboutandfindout
I presume he said something at the auction?
WannaPLay
He tried. You want to pick up where we left off? Cocktails? Or maybe that * commission * you were talking about?
The word commission drips with innuendo. I like how he’s getting straight to the point. After all the fucking around with other guys on this app, I’m here for it.
Clarkeaboutandfindout
Should I wear the apron?
‘Ready to go?’ Jamie appears, coat in hand.
‘Yep.’
‘Thanks for tonight, Jamie.’ Scott folds a bar towel over a pump, marking it as closed. ‘I guess I’ll see you both next week?’
‘Sure.’ I smile and hop off the stool.
‘Why is he seeing you here next week?’ Jamie mumbles as we walk out. ‘You haven’t got a job here, too? If there’s extra shifts, I want to pick them up.’
‘Don’t worry, little brother, I’m not going to poach your shifts.’ I nudge him with my shoulder. ‘I’ve got another commission.’ The fire stokes inside me as I say it.
We get into my tiny yellow love bug, Jamie folding his long legs into the small space.
‘Can I give you some money for petrol?’
‘Nah, you’re saving for your bike.’ I put the car into gear. ‘Put it towards that.’
‘Okay, thanks.’
I pull away and turn onto the country road. ‘Besides, you get me a drink every night, that’s thanks enough.’
‘What?’
‘The passionfruit and soda?’ I remind him. ‘You have one waiting for me every time I come and get you.’
‘I did that, like, once .’ He snorts and I risk a look at him, but can’t see his expression in the darkness.
Weird for him to play it down.
Wait. My stomach lurches.
Does that mean it’s been Scott the whole time?
Jamie interrupts my thought by asking, ‘You’re still coming to lunch on Sunday, right?’
‘Like I do every Sunday,’ I say. ‘You know I wouldn’t make you go through that on your own.’
I head in the direction of our family home as Jamie says, ‘They’ll probably lay into you about not having a boyfriend yet.’
‘Well, we already had why don’t I have a proper job last month.’
‘And then why do I want to ride a motorbike,’ Jamie adds.
‘Yeah, it’s my turn again. Although, maybe one day soon, I will have a boyfriend and then they can suck it.’
I was under no illusion Carl on the dating app was more than a one and done, but at least a health hump might jerk me out of my funk — my dry spell. And then, who knows what may happen?
‘Why, what’s happening?’ He shifts in his seat.
I glance at my brother to see his face alight with genuine intrigue.
We carry on our journey, a couple of cars temporarily blinding me as they drive past with bright headlights blaring. ‘Oh, nothing, I just … made a connection on a dating app. Why?’ I look away from the road and steal another glance.
A faint scowl is illuminated in the streetlights. ‘Nothing. I just thought … no, nothing.’
‘Then they’ll be on at you about a girlfriend, you know.’
‘Don’t,’ he groans. ‘We don’t deserve this shit.’
‘They just want the best for us.’
‘According to who?’
When I get back to my flat, I snuggle down on the sofa with a bar of chocolate and text Ella and Abi.
Josie
My Etsy store’s been cleared out! I am dead.
Abi
Congrats. Now you can afford the plane tickets xx
Ella
A. May. Zing. You better not forget who your friends are when you’re famous. I know too many stories. Proud of you.
We exchange silly memes for a while, and I arrange the next cocktail night with Ella, then I listen to Abi’s latest voice note like it’s a podcast. When I get into bed, I notice a red dot over my dating app and open it up to find a couple more messages from Carl.
We swap messages back and forth, and I feel a growing buzz of excitement about the date we organise for next Friday.
Shit. Friday is when I give Jamie a lift to work.
Automatic guilt sits heavy on me until I realise a solution and text Jamie.
Josie
Yo, I can’t give you a lift next Friday, but you could borrow my car? How about you drop me off in town and then drive yourself to work, then come get me later? If I need a lift that is.
Jamie sends a big yellow thumbs up, and I realise it’s not all guys who speak in emojis and single letters. It’s just the immature ones — ones like my little brother.