32. Present Day – January
32
PRESENT DAY – JANUARY
JOSIE
E lla gives my shoulder a squeeze as Nate says, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, our next lot has come in character tonight.’ His voice is magnified by the mic system, and I do a little curtsey and hold my paint brushes aloft as the crowd chuckles.
‘Do you want to say a few words?’ Nate holds the mic out to me.
I take a swig of my drink, the burn in my throat bringing me strength, then take the mic.
‘Hi everyone. The pledge I’m donating is somewhat unusual. I’m an artist.’ I hold my hands out as if the apron and my multicoloured nails make everything self-explanatory. ‘I’d be happy to paint a bespoke picture for you, up to the size of this .’ I gesture a big rectangle with my arms, because no one knows what A1 means. ‘It could be your favourite landscape around here, your house, even your pet. I’d be happy to do watercolour, acrylic, or a sketch and … yep, that’s about it.’
Praying no one chooses a portrait, I find myself doing the silly bob again. I’m so awkward in front of an audience.
‘Okay, well an original from Josie Clarke! It’s gonna be worth a lot of money one of these days.’
Chunk starts clapping and whooping, pumping his fist.
Ella calls out, ‘Let’s start the bidding at forty quid.’
Chunk’s hand flies up, and he gives me a wink. Since mine and Ella’s old school gang didn’t fancy coming, I’d told him I was worried no one would want me, so he’s probably giving me a sympathy bid. Several other arms raise around the room. I’m stunned so many hands go up in the audience.
Fiddling with the bracelet I found at Christmas, I spin the wooden beads over and over. Heart thumping in my chest, I’m not sure what to do with myself, so I keep on smiling out to the crowd. Enzo’s behind the bar, but no sign of Scott or Jamie. So many eyes on me is somewhat unnerving. I've never loved the spotlight ... although I'd enjoyed Scott's scrutiny at Halloween.
Nate waggles his phone in Ella’s direction, and then holds it to his ear.
‘Telephone bid,’ Nate mouths with a bemused shrug.
Ella looks confused but keeps going with a, ‘One hundred pounds?’
Nate nods and Ella announces, ‘We also have an anonymous telephone bidder. Let’s hope we can make UKBB and Oldton Park a lot of money today. Now, one-twenty?’ She points into the crowd. ‘One-fifty?’
Nate nods.
The bidding goes on until Nate calls out, ‘I’ve got three hundred here.’
‘Any advance on three hundred pounds for a Josie Clarke original?’
There’s disappointed murmurs and head shakes as Ella calls out, ‘Going once. Going twice. Sold to our mystery phone bidder!’
There’s a smattering of applause, and I find myself blushing. Three hundred quid . On me ? Fuck, I hope I don’t screw up their commission.
‘Well done,’ Ella says, face alight with excitement.
‘Phew, I need a drink after that.’ I pretend to wince. ‘You want anything, Ella? Chunk?’
Ella shakes her head while Chunk says, ‘No, thank you. I’m heading off in a bit.’
I fake pout.
‘My lot’s been auctioned.’ He shrugs. ‘Now I’ve made sure my friends got on alright, you don’t need me anymore.’ He gives me a wink and claps both Ella and me on the shoulder. I’m genuinely pleased Chunk considers me his friend.
‘How about you?’ I call to Nate, gesturing a drinking motion.
‘No, I’m good, Scott’s keeping us in drinks back here.’
I keep my face fixed in a smile. I should be used to my stomach swooping when it comes to bumping into Scott here, but it still catches me every time. Perhaps I should have done the play party after all. Maybe I’d have found a replacement zombie, or a masked billionaire. But I’d already committed to helping out with tonight’s fundraiser. And, I cringe admitting this to myself, I didn’t want to go to the party. I don’t think it would be the same without Scott.
So pathetic.
I huff out a sigh.
I should be grabbing any opportunity to meet new people, try new things. Especially trapped here in Oldton, the arse end of the world.
Should be.
I glance down at my outfit, half wondering if it might be enough to change Scott’s mind. I swear when he looks at me sometimes, I can feel the heat from that first night. I can see something like desire swirling in his eyes. But perhaps that’s me projecting. Hoping. Gah! He’s had enough chances to change his mind.
The need for a get-over-Scott-grind is becoming more and more pressing … and elusive. But perhaps my luck’s about to change tonight. The Bull is rammed with people and I look hot as hell. I scored about four times more money for charity than I expected in the auction, and the night is still young.
‘Right,’ I announce to Ella. ‘Mission one for tonight completed. Now onto mission two: find one ,’ I tilt my head mischievously, ‘ or more , hot guys for a date.’
‘Good luck.’ Ella snaps finger guns at me, making me laugh.
I fight my way over to the bar where Jamie greets me with a grimace.
‘Nice work, Jo Jo.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘You wanna borrow a jumper now your sales pitch is over?’
‘Such a prude, Jamie, really.’ I shake my head in faux despair.
‘I don’t really want to see my sister’s arse hanging out of an apron.’ He lowers his voice as if mortified. ‘Not in my place of work.’
‘Well, don’t look then.’ I stick out my tongue.
He pulls a face back. ‘What can I getcha? Don’t say a cocktail. I’ve been making them allll night.’
I smile sweetly. ‘A margarita, please.’
‘ Jo Jo …’ he draws out in a whinge.
‘I’ll get it.’ Scott suddenly appears. ‘Can you serve Geoff?’ As Jamie slopes off with a sigh of relief, I keep my grin stuck firmly in place, but I’m a little worried it might be borderline manic right now.
‘Thanks. Are you joining in tonight?’ I dash my head over to where Ella and Nate are getting bids for a window cleaning service.
‘I’m donating a voucher for some drinks, if that’s what you mean?’
He turns away and starts dishing some ice into a glass before I can clarify I mean bidding. Earlier tonight, my overactive brain had a fancy he’d bid on me. I eye-roll at myself. What a chump.
As I watch Scott’s wide shoulders bunch and flex through his shirt, I sense a presence at my side.
‘Hi.’ A guy is smiling at me; his swept-back blond hair is immaculately gelled into a quiff. He gestures to me with an empty glass. ‘So, you’re the resident artist?’
I cock an eyebrow. ‘Something like that.’
His mouth tugs into a wry smile with blinding white, straight teeth. He’s not the kind of guy I’d usually be interested in, but — and not that I’m getting desperate — I’d currently describe my type as anyone other than Scott.
‘Uch-hum.’ Scott coughs and slides my drink across the bar to me.
‘Thank you.’ I look up to his dark eyes sparking from below his rumpled brow. ‘What do I owe you?’
‘I’ll put it on Nate’s tab,’ he rumbles, and his gaze flicks to my companion. ‘Another one?’
The man hands over his glass with a, ‘same again.’
I feel Scott’s glare laying heavy on us as he pulls a pint of cider. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was jealous.
Good. It’s his loss.
The guy seems to sense Scott’s distaste, too, as he waits until he has moved off to serve someone else before trying to chat again.
‘So, who won you?’
‘I don’t know, actually. Anonymous telephone bid. I guess I’ll find out when they turn up to be painted.’
He turns to fully face me. Blue eyes striking. ‘I’m disappointed I was outbid,’ he says. ‘Do you do private commissions?’
‘On occasion.’
He raises an eyebrow and gives me a half smile. The way he’s looking at me, I’m starting to feel like we’re talking about more than my art. And I’m starting to be relieved I wore, what I will now always think of as, my Fuck Me apron.
Scott walks past and slams some ice from the tray loudly into a glass, temporarily distracting me. Grumpy fucker.
‘I should get your number,’ the guy continues.
‘For the art?’ I drawl, suddenly noticing Jamie, hands on hips, staring down the bar at me.
‘For the art,’ he echoes as he passes his phone to me. ‘In case I ever need a portrait … or something. I’m Carl, by the way.’
‘Josie,’ I reply as I punch my number into his phone, acutely aware of at least three pairs of eyes on me.
The scrutiny is too much. I squirm. My skin’s a size too small. Cold rushes through me before heat spreads to my cheeks. ‘I’m just gonna … excuse me.’
I’m usually the one observing others, not being gawked at. I bail out to the toilets, not daring to look back.
I splash some water on my cheeks and check my mascara in the mirror. Twisting to check my back, I tut. I talk a good game, but I don’t actually love the attention. I feign bravado so much it’s become my personality. Josie: the cocky, confident one.
Perhaps the Fuck Me apron is too much. I’ve got a very nice dress on under this thing. I’d told Ella I’d put the apron on as a joke. Truth is, I felt like an imposter auctioning my skills like they’re worth something — the apron was like a suit of armour to prove I am valid. I tug at the bow but it doesn’t fully unravel. My tugging is in fact, only tightening the knot. Prickles of sweat start to crawl over me as a low level of panic sets in.
Ugh. There’s a guy outside who just took my number, and we all know what that means, and now I’m trapped in a bloody paint stained apron.
It’s so tight I can’t take a full breath. Anxiously, I leave the ladies with the intention of tracking down Ella — I’ll get her to cut me out if I have to — and bowl straight into a firm, warm chest. A familiar waft of cedar and hops ensnares my nose.
Large hands steady me, and I find myself pressed into Scott.
‘Easy,’ he says, holding me to him.
‘Sorry.’ I pull away.
‘You in a rush?’
‘I feel like … I’m trapped in this thing.’ I pull at the apron strap I’d yanked around my waist. I pant, ‘Starting to get claustrophobic.’
‘Turn around,’ he rasps, thrusting me around to face the other way, as if my ineptitude with clothing annoys him.
His hand settles on my hip, while the other yanks at the knot, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. Then everything is free, and I take in a deep breath as two hands circle my waist, fingers digging into my soft skin, before they disappear.
‘Thanks.’ I turn back to face him, but he’s already striding up the corridor, pushing through a door, and is gone.
I head back to the spot at the bar I’d adopted and see Carl clock me, blanche and then down his drink. He’s backing away as I get there.
‘In a hurry?’ I ask, wondering if I’ve still got paint in my hair or something. Wouldn’t be the first time.
His gaze flicks to the bar and then back to me. Then to the bar. I roll my lips into a smile, wondering, what the fuck?
‘It was nice meeting you, Josie, but I should go.’
‘Really?’ I frown. What’s happened?
His eyes return to the bar and he says, ‘Maybe another time?’ Not convincingly.
‘You’ve got my number.’ I shrug, and he grimaces before checking the bar again and disappearing.
I turn to see where he was staring and find Scott staring him down.
When Carl is at the other side of the pub, Scott walks over. ‘Can I get you another one?’
‘Are you fucking serious?’
He swallows and, for the first time in a long time, really looks me in the eye. ‘What?’
‘You warned him off, didn’t you?’ I jab a purple-tipped finger at him.
‘What?’
‘That’s why he left. You fucking warned him off me or something when I was in the toilet.’
I cannot with this guy any more. I spin on my heel to leave as he says, ‘Josie, I?—’
Whipping back, I hiss, ‘What the fuck? You don’t want me, but you don't want anyone else to have me either? This is ridiculous.’
He reaches for me. ‘I?—’
‘Save it.’ I yank my arm out of reach and stalk over to where Nate and Ella are compèring. I can’t stand to be near him right now.