Chapter 11 #3
The red in my vision grows bloodier. “Ada puts money into the Afterglow account for everything she drinks here. Everything she eats here. More than that. Fucking hell, Lisa, you’ve worked here for almost a year.
Do you think it’s a coincidence all the cutlery just got replaced or how all the hand towels are new? That was Ada!”
“I didn’t know.”
“Because it’s not your fucking business! About me, or Ada, or how I run this bar!”
A scream boils in my throat, and I want to let loose, grab her around the throat and shake her, and then he’s there, again, saving me from myself.
Davis’s arms are around me, holding me in place, firm and grounding.
Over the blood rushing in my ears, I catch the low rumble of his voice, saying things to Lisa like restitution, trespass and no reference.
He eases me into my desk chair, then ushers Lisa past, her protests trailing down the hall, how her last bar didn’t care if she ‘took her tips home,’ how this is workplace harassment, how I’ve got a stick wedged up my ass.
The tightness in my chest is back. I let it squeeze until it forces its way up to my skull and bursts.
Tears track down my cheeks in rivers, and it’s glorious and repulsive to fully give in to the emotions I’ve been keeping locked up for so long.
I yank a tissue from the box on my desk and blow my nose like a foghorn.
Then I collapse with my head on my knees.
“Cece?” Davis calls from the hall. “Are you—oh.”
I watch his boots enter my office, tears running down my face. “What’s wrong, Davis? Never seen a girl mid-breakdown before?”
All the fluttery warmth from earlier is gone. Lisa’s been stealing from me. Davis is secretly in love with Ada. Will Sharpe probably only commented on my Afterglow post out of pity. Everything is fucked.
Davis bends close to me. “Can I do anything?”
“Sure,” I hiccup. “Be a doll and torch the bar for me. I need the insurance payout.”
“I’m not going to do that. But I’ll be right back.”
I stay bent double and ugly cry until Davis returns.
“I think you need this,” he says.
I look up and see he’s holding a rocks glass filled with something clear. “Water?”
“Gin.”
Close enough. I take it and slug a mouthful.
It burns on the way down like disinfectant.
Another gulp scorches deeper, cauterising the soft, ragged parts of my soul.
By the time it’s almost empty, I’ve stopped crying.
But now shame has arrived. I’m embarrassed by what I admitted to Lisa in front of Davis—that I couldn’t afford matching cutlery until my best friend stepped in.
Remembering Ada’s generosity brings on a fresh surge of shame.
I pull out my phone and shoot off a text.
I love you. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. You’re the best.
Davis drags the spare chair beside mine and sits down, tossing his phone on the desk.
His long, black denim-clad legs stretch in front of him.
He takes my mostly empty gin glass and sips.
I watch, fascinated by his beauty. He looks like a fallen angel, cursed to make a living bouncing at dive bars.
Every guy I’ve ever dated has looked the same.
That clean-cut, tennis player aesthetic.
Polo shirts and chinos, and a personality that screams ‘ask me about crypto.’
A first-year psych student could clock why.
I want the dream: a picket fence and two-point-five kids, so I’ve always dated safe.
But Davis? He’s not safe. He is a crypto guy, or something like that, but he’s also sarcastic and has a body built for sin.
That’s how I know this weird, magnetic thing between us is just lust. I think back to us behind the bar earlier, and misery floods me.
Davis might be happy to make out in a heated moment, but in the end, he’ll probably end up with someone as edgy as he is.
Someone like Ada. The thought stabs like a knife in my already aching heart.
As if summoned by my suspicions, Ada’s name flashes across Davis’s phone.
“Yeah?” Davis answers.
Ada’s voice blares through the speakers. “Why did Cece just send me a text that sounds like a suicide note?”
I roll my eyes at Davis. “I just told her I love her. Trust Ada to think that’s a cry for help.”
“Cece’s a little… upset,” Davis says, glancing at me. “She just had to sack Lisa for stealing. It was rough.”
“What the fucking fuck?” Ada shrieks.
I watch as Davis paces my office, relaying everything to Ada while she fires off a mix of questions and Italian curse words.
Hearing them talk about me as though I’m some shared charity project makes me feel like even more of a pathetic spectator in my own life.
I drink the last of my London’s finest in a big swallow.
“That underhanded weasley cunt-face!” Ada shouts. “Is Cece better now?”
Davis throws me a look. “Are you better now?”
I raise my empty glass in response.
“Nah,” he says. “Ada, I’ve gotta let you go—”
“I’m coming, Cee!” Ada yells.
“You don’t have to—”
Click. The call cuts.
“She hung up,” Davis says, like I maybe didn’t notice. “I think she’s coming back.”
A new thrum of guilt coils through me. I don’t want to ruin Ada and Jake’s night. Whatever Davis thinks, they do seem good together. But I also want her here. I need my friend. I let out a fresh sob. “Refill, please?”
Twenty minutes and two double gins later, Davis is watching me chow down on the cheese and pineapple toastie Aggie forced into my hands, when Ada bursts through the door.
“Where is she?” Ada raises her fists like a prize fighter. “I’m gonna make that bitch eat her own braid!”
I smile thickly. “She’s gone, Addy. Gone with my money. Not tonight’s money… But you know... Other money.”
I’m drunk, I realise. And I might’ve derailed Jake’s tequila-flavoured sex agenda, but whatever went down in the meantime, Ada’s still glowing. She looks like she’s swallowed a ring light. The sight of her brings the reality of everything I’ve done crashing down on me again.
“God, Lisa can get fucked forever.” Ada collapses into the chair beside me. “How you holding up, babe?”
“Um…” Fresh tears well in my eyes. “I’m ruining this place. It was better off without me.”
“Don’t say that. You’ve been busting your ass for months. And it was a total shithole before.”
“So, what? Lisa was stealing from me for God knows how long, and I had no idea. If it wasn’t for Davis... And who knows how many other things are going on that I don’t know about!”
“Cece, it’s okay.” Ada’s arms close around me, holding me tight. More tears come now, as if her hug is squeezing them from me.
“Lisa was such a bitch,” I wail. My dad always called gin mascara-thinner, and it’s living up to that reputation tonight. “She was so mean about you.”
Ada recoils. “The fuck did I do?”
“She said you don’t pay for your drinks, even though I told her you do, and you paid for all that new stuff for the bar, and Davis wouldn’t even let me attack her!”
“That cow. I’m going to spray-paint her car windows, but only three of them, so she can’t claim insurance.”
“Yes!” I say, invigorated. “Let’s do that!”
“Nobody’s vandalising Lisa’s car,” Davis calls from the corner of the room.
“Whatever, narc. You can’t tell us what to do,” Ada says.
“Yeah! I am very on board with this spray-painting plan. It might be the best plan I’ve ever heard.”
Davis rolls his eyes. “Need anything else, Cece?”
I shake my head, pick up my gin glass and take another sip. It doesn’t burn anymore. Just slides down smooth and warm.
“Okay, well, I’m gonna head out front. Give me a call if you change your mind.” He leaves, closing the office door behind him.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I say, turning to Ada. “Pay for extra stuff around here, I mean.”
She looks away. “I know.”
“It was really nice of you.”
“You needed help, and I could help. It’s not a big deal.”
“It’s a big deal to me.” I take another swig of gin and let the alcohol guide me to the confession that’s been building for months. “Addy?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m poor.”
She frowns. “How poor?”
“Really poor. Like… horror-movie bank statements. So much red it’s practically bleeding.”
“Jesus, Cee.”
“Right?” I sob. “I even tried selling pictures of my feet online a few months ago to fix the hole in the roof that my stupid landlord keeps ignoring.”
Ada’s eyes widen. “Please tell me that worked?”
I shake my head. “Nobody actually wants feet pics. They’re just trying to trick you into sexting. Men are so disappointing. They can’t even fetish right.”
Ada makes a considering face. “You do have beautiful toes, though... Thrasher Thompson’s supposed to be into feet?”
A full-body shudder runs through me. “I wouldn’t let Thrasher Thompson eye-fuck me. Why’d you even meet up with him tonight?”
“Revenge,” Ada sighs.
“Ah.”
“Didn’t work, obviously.”
“There’s always next time?”
“I’m not so sure. At least not from the ‘seduce and destroy’ angle. Apparently, Jake ‘laid proper claim to me’ in the stupid golf chat all the rugby guys from school are in. Single-handedly derailed my seduction destruction.”
Her words are flippant, but her voice isn’t. There’s something fragile tucked behind them. A part of Ada likes that Jake staked his claim. Ada likes Jake.
Yes, I think. He’s perfect for you, Addy. Be with him. Have six half-Italian babies and take them for brunch in Herne Bay with your rescue cavoodle, Teddy.
Ada tosses her dark mane like an irritated show pony. “That’s what he actually called it, ‘Laying a proper claim.’ Like I’m a fucking side table at an estate sale he slapped a Post-It note on.”
I laugh. “I think Jake’s more the type to throw the table over his shoulder, walk out of the sale, then torch the estate so no one can follow him… Hold on, did you say golf chat?”
“I know, right?” Ada rolls her eyes. “I can’t believe I’m fucking a guy who plays golf. Humiliating.”
“We’re getting old,” I agree.