20. Present Day – December
20
PRESENT DAY – DECEMBER
SCOTT
Nate
I’ve found a new team member for you.
Scott
Who said I needed someone new?
Nate
You still haven’t replaced me.
Nate
Not surprising, I’m irreplaceable.
P lacing my mug on the coffee table, I sigh and stare at the phone screen a second longer before hitting the call button.
‘You’re welcome,’ Nate’s voice sings out after one ring.
Picturing the schoolboy-like dimple he’s surely flashing makes me grunt in response.
Nate chuckles. ‘How can I help?’ As if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb via text message and I was just calling him out of the blue.
‘Care to tell me more?’ I frown at the wall of my apartment, resigned to hear whatever unconventional plan my brother has concocted. And brace myself to think of a way out of it.
‘He's eighteen; in college. He’s trustworthy. Bright. Looking for part-time work, maybe one or two shifts a week. I didn’t have anything for him at The Wreck, so I’ve told him to come along for an interview at the pub tomorrow.’
I rub the bridge of my nose, tension beginning to pinch. ‘Tomorrow?’
‘You’re in for a delivery, right?’
‘I guess ...’
‘Yeah, so, like I said to him, it’s more of a formality — he’s a shoe-in. Seems like such a good kid, you know. He needs a break and he’s trying to save up for new wheels. I think the first thing he did was go and tell his family about the interview.’
‘Fuck, Nate.’
‘No need to thank me, big bro. It’s the least I could do.’
I grab a pen, clicking the top with my thumb. ‘What’s this guy’s name?’
‘Didn’t I say?’
‘Nope.’ Give me strength.
‘I’m sure I said.’
‘Well, I didn’t hear.’
‘Erm …’ The sound of fumbling fills the line. ‘I gotta go dude.’
‘Nate.’ My voice is level. ‘Tell me who the fuck you’ve invited for an interview at my pub.’
‘Jamie …’
I start to print out the name on the nearest blank thing I can find — the back of an old receipt. I’ve written J-A- before my brain kicks in. ‘Jamie?’ I let the last vowel hang in a question.
‘Clarke.’ He ploughs on speaking over my sharp inhale of breath. ‘You know him right?’
He knows I know him. Prick.
‘He’s a good kid,’ my brother continues. ‘This is a good idea.’
‘ Nate .’ Fuck me, I’m going to wring his neck.
I drop the pen and tug at my hair, trying to relieve the pressure in my scalp as he says, ‘Right. Bye then.’
The line goes dead and I stare at the name written on the receipt.
Jamie. Marcus’s little brother. Josie’s little brother.
Shit .
I’m polishing the mirror at the back of the bar with probably a bit too much force. Okay, it’s not even dirty. But it feels good to be doing something menial and repetitive, something to get Josie out of my stupid mind.
My gut writhes at the thought of what a big brother might do on finding out their best friend is into their little sister. That their best friend fucked their little sister.
Shit, at the party, in the bar — the way I looked at her, thought about her, like she was some sort of feast for me. And then what I did to her. What I let her do to me. I’m so in the wrong; I’m not sure what a suitable punishment would be to try to make amends. Bleaching my eyeballs, maybe.
And she’s so much younger than me. No wonder she made me feel young. Like I was brand-new.
I feel sick. Nausea has been clawing at me all morning.
What if Josie comes with her brother today?
No. He wouldn’t bring a sister to a job interview, would he?
No. And why would she be here, anyway?
But if she did come, then I’d get to see her.
My pulse rate doubles in anticipation.
No.
I’m really starting to wish my subconscious would get on board with the whole Josie can only be a friend thing that my brain is demanding.
Fucking Nate has entirely screwed me. I can’t employ him. Josie’s younger brother working with me regularly? Nope, that is not going to help my situation.
But I can’t not give him the job, either.
I have to. For Marcus. Shit. For his mum. She’d hate me all over again if I didn’t give it to him. What would his dad think?
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Maybe he’ll tank the interview.
Maybe he won’t turn up and all of this will go away.
It’s just before lunchtime and the door swings open. My heart thunders in my chest. Here we go.
‘Are you open?’ An older lady wearing a bobble hat pokes her head around the door.
Surprised, my forehead rumples and it’s an effort not to scowl. It’s not her fault I’m scared about meeting an eighteen-year-old. ‘Not until four.’
‘Not even for a cuppa?’
I shrug and shake my head. The door was only unlocked because I’m waiting for Jamie.
‘There’s a cafe a couple of villages west, or you could head into town,’ I suggest, but she backs out grumbling about having just walked from there.
Jamie arrives about five minutes later, and now I have my nerves better in check. I do my best not to notice how he has the same nose and mouth as his brother. Gut punch — he’s not quite a mini-Marcus, but still.
The kid’s scrubbed up well. Smart shirt. Clean jeans. A clear document wallet with his CV inside is clutched in his hand. Cannot complain.
‘Hey, Jamie. How’s it going?’ I straighten a beer mat as he approaches.
‘Hi, Scottie, er, Scott, sorry.’ He looks like a deer in the headlights, probably more nervous than I am.
Not sure whether I should high-five him, scrub his hair, or hug him. I’m grateful for the bar between us. ‘It’s okay. Your mum calls me that.’ I indicate for him to perch on a bar stool and he settles opposite me. ‘She okay?’
‘Yeah.’ He looks shifty, eyes flitting to the side. ‘Thanks for the interview.’
‘Why do I sense she’s not into you working here?’
‘It’s not that .’ He rubs at his neck. ‘She’s fine. Just worries, you know?’
Fuck. Now she’ll be pissed off with me either way. If I do employ him and if I don’t.
‘You got any bar experience?’ I lean both hands on the wooden surface, not sure what to do with myself.
‘Only on the customer side of it.’ He coughs awkwardly, as if realising that’s not how this interview should go.
Snap, kid. I don’t know how this interview should go either.
I cross my arms over my chest and tip my chin up. ‘What’s your favourite drink?’
‘Me? Er … alcoholic, you mean?’
I nod. Why not? I don’t know what I’m asking.
‘Well, as I’ve only been drinking for the last month or so, I’d say whiskey and coke, and er … Guinness.’
‘Really? Whiskey and Guinness are your favourites?’
‘Yes.’ He tries to sound confident but he holds my gaze and then dips his head slightly. ‘Nah, I don’t know. I usually get a vodka and coke.’
‘And you only just started drinking a month ago?’
He purses his lips together, looking conflicted. ‘Well, no. I had a fake ID, and I’d go out with my friends in town.’
‘That’s what I thought.’
I had not thought anything. I’m winging this, big time. But, instinct tells me truthfulness is key. I need to trust this kid. So far, I feel that I can.
‘So, you know what a fake ID looks like?’
‘Yes.’ He almost laughs.
‘And you know how to ID people?’
‘I guess.’ He shrugs. ‘Like, “can I see some ID?” is what I usually get asked.’
‘Perfect. I can teach you what to do behind a bar. I’m sure you’ll pick it up quickly. But what I can’t teach you, is how to be trustworthy.’ I level my gaze on him, the one I use when punters are restless. ‘You just need to be honest with me. Whatever happens, you won’t be in trouble if you tell me the truth, okay?’
‘Okay.’ He nods, eyes wide.
This is what Marcus would have wanted; I’m certain of it. ‘Can you start tomorrow?’
He bobs his head up and down rapidly, like if he doesn’t agree quickly enough, I’ll change my mind. ‘Yeah I can do whenever this week. It’s Christmas break.’
‘Fancy doing New Year’s Eve, too?’
‘Yes!’
‘Cool.’ I tip my head to one side. ‘I guess … you got the job.’
Who am I kidding? Of course he was going to get the job. A wave of certainty passes over me; this is absolutely the right thing to do. But it’s followed by a gut twist. I should have been looking out for this dude long before now.
‘Thanks, man.’ He’s grinning at me like I’ve just given him the moon on a stick. A kind of adoration I do not deserve. Jeez, the guy hasn’t even started yet.
‘So, before you get too excited … we’ll do a trial period for a few weeks.’ Seems sensible to throw this in. I wonder if Jamie can tell I’m making this up as I go along. ‘You’re in college?’
He nods.
‘When term starts back up, can you work Friday nights? Maybe a few extra shifts when it’s busy or in the holidays?’
‘It should be fine.’ His eyes flick to the window and back. ‘I need to check I can get a ride, but I’ll make it work.’
‘Of course. Your car got written off, didn’t it?’
‘Yeah. It’s why I need the job. I need to pay for motorbike lessons … and the bike. The insurance pay out wasn’t as much as I’d hoped.’
A motorbike ? Well, at least he’s getting lessons. I sold mine days after Marcus died — wouldn’t touch one again if you begged me. But I remember the thrill of riding. And Nate is obsessed with his, so I get the appeal. Jamie knows what’s at stake as much as I do, so I don’t do him the disservice of patronising him about the risks. ‘You okay now … after everything?’
He nods, and rubs at his neck again, but I don’t think it’s a conscious movement.
This kid has already been through so much.
‘You can work Saturdays if it’s easier?’
‘No, let’s go for Fridays. I’m sure it’ll be okay for Josie.’
A stone plunges deep in my stomach. Josie. I swallow then try to take a breath, but my chest feels too tight to inhale.
‘My sister,’ Jamie continues, as if taking my silence for confusion. ‘She’s giving me lifts while I haven’t got any wheels.’
‘Your sister is your ride?’ I wonder if he noticed my voice pitch up.
‘Yeah. She’s in the car park right now. You want to see her?’
Yes.
‘No, no.’ I shake my head. ‘I believe you.’
Josie’s here? Right now?
I could see her.
Do I even want to see her?
Yes.
No.
I fear I’m about to spiral, and want to wrap this up as quickly as possible. ‘Well, work it out with your sister and pick a day, and I’ll be happy to give you a trial. I should …’ I thumb behind me, hoping to indicate that I have very busy and important pub things to do.
‘Thank you for your time.’ He sticks his hand out.
Trying not to look fazed by such an adult gesture, I shake the hand of this now young man who I last saw properly when he was ten.
It’s brief but firm, and then I step back
‘Looking forward to working with you, Jamie,’ I say as I back away, before anything awkward happens … like Josie coming in.