33. Present Day – January
33
PRESENT DAY – JANUARY
JOSIE
‘ N ext up is a voucher to redeem at our very own Bull Inn.’ Ella’s voice booms out from the mic. ‘You can exchange it for ten cocktails, so maybe treat your friends, go for a date or,’ she looks around and shrugs, ‘keep them all for yourself. Let’s kick this off at ten pounds.’
Before I can even think it through, my hand shoots into the air.
Ella gurns at me and waggles her eyebrows, probably thinking she’ll be my date. Usually that’d be a no-brainer; cocktails are our thing. But Scott has really got under my skin.
The bidding volleys between me and one other customer, an older lady who gives me a grin at sixty pounds and bows out as if to say it’s mine.
‘Sold!’ Ella thumps down an inflatable mallet, and scribbles my name on her clipboard.
Nate strides over to me, holding an envelope while I scrabble in my wallet for some cash.
‘Thanks for donating.’
‘This is really going to be my pleasure.’ I curl my lips and shoot a look at the bar.
If Scott has an issue with me simply talking to a guy, I wonder what me being on a date with one will do. I tried to take the high road. Be friends. But no, he didn’t want that, did he?
Taking my drinks voucher, I stride over to where Scott is serving a man. Scott sees me coming, his gaze making the guy look towards me, too. A fairly hot guy, if pretty eyes, a golden tan, and a backwards cap is your thing. He scans me up and down, appraises my tiny dress with no subtlety, and winks at me before turning back to finish his order.
A quick glance at his finger shows no ring, and I hedge my bets this pretty boy is a player and not in a relationship.
I cock my hands on my hips and interrupt. ‘You want a cocktail?’
The guy turns and regards me from his six foot height. ‘Sure, baby girl.’
‘Josie?’ Scott glowers, inching as close as the bar will let him.
Arching my back to stick out my boobs as far as possible, I turn to Scott and slap the voucher down, pushing it purposefully towards him.
‘Two Margaritas please. One for me and one for Pretty Boy , here.’ I tip my head at the random guy I’m now using as a human sacrifice. ‘You like margaritas, right?’
‘Whatever you want,’ he replies, mainly to my tits.
Scott narrows his eyes and then nods. He blends the ingredients together and then shakes the fuck out of the shaker, as if it’s an anger management technique.
I can almost feel Scott bristling as he serves us, sliding the drinks over with an angry rumble on the bar surface.
Pretty Boy places his hand on my arm as he leans in to talk to me. I don’t hear what he’s saying, too busy watching Scott stalk around behind the bar.
I lean in and laugh along with whatever his joke is, pretending I’m having a great time. I can’t hear anything other than my pulse smashing in my ears. I take a swig of my drink and offer some to the guy, who takes a sip out of my glass. A drop of the drink lingers at the corner of his mouth, and I lean forwards and lick it from his lips.
Jamie comes over holding a cocktail and frowns. ‘Jesus-fucking-Christ, Josie, this is my workplace.’
Acid burns through my veins as I see the snarl of disgust on his face. Everything I do for the little prick.
‘Hold this.’ I shove the drink into Pretty Boy’s hands and hoist myself up to sit on the bar.
Twisting round, I face my brother, leaning in as close as I can to him. ‘You want me to really give you something to be embarrassed about?’ I grind out. ‘I’ll get up and dance.’
‘Fuck, there’s not even any music, Jo Jo.’
‘Don’t call me that and don’t. Tempt. Me .’ I grab the drink he’s poured for someone else and take a sip. ‘Thanks, baby bro,’ I lighten my voice and gasp in satisfaction. ‘You’re really getting the hang of this.’
I sink my stolen drink and gesture over to Scott, circling my finger in the air. ‘Another round of Margaritas.’
When I turn back, Pretty Boy has a look on his face, the one my exes had moments before they dumped me. The one where I get told I’m too much. The one where they realise they’d underestimated my particular level of chaos.
‘Actually,’ Pretty Boy moves back slightly. ‘I should .... I better …’ He looks between Scott and I, and then holds his hands up. ‘I’m sorry, I just remembered I gotta …’
He doesn’t bother finishing his excuse; he just bolts away.
His loss .
I shrug as he leaves, then pivot around to focus on Scott. ‘Two,’ I repeat with a couple of fingers raised.
He mixes up the next batch. Shoulders stiff, face stone. I lift one to my mouth with a murmured, ‘Cheers,’ before finding Scott’s eyes and sinking it in one.
I slam the glass back down, pushing it over to him, and take up the next one.
‘Josie …’
Still perched on the bar, I flick my hair over my shoulder, angling my cleavage towards him. Doesn’t know what he’s missing . ‘You could join me.’
With a twist, I dismount as elegantly as I can, landing on one stilettoed foot with a slight teeter, hoping the move is seductive rather than slithery.
That look is back in his eyes. Tempestuous. The one I’m sure is pain … or regret. ‘You know I?—’
Cutting him off, I snark, ‘I believe I’ve got six more cocktails, so I’ll take a Mojito this time.’
‘Shouldn’t you take it easy?’ He tilts his body towards me and lowers his voice — there’s something like pity in his tone.
I’m too much.
My cheeks heat. ‘Haven’t you interfered enough?’
His frown deepens. ‘This is the last one,’ he growls. ‘Then I’m cutting you off.’ He straightens up, towering over me and suddenly I feel completely puerile. Immature and foolish and too much like everyone always says I am. ‘You’re gonna feel awful in the morning.’
I’m too young.
Fuck this patronising bullshit.
I look at my brother, who puts his hands up in a position of surrender. ‘Don’t involve me. I like my job too much.’
‘Enzo will serve me, won’t you?’
‘Errr …’ Enzo looks between me and Scott and then backs away, his brown eyes wide.
There’s an uncomfortable silence. Almost a stand-off. I raise the glass and take a long draw.
‘What’s … happening?’ Ella says tentatively as she slides onto the stool next to me, breaking into the atmosphere.
‘My sister is making bad choices. Will you do something?’ Jamie aggressively opens a bottle of wine and then stomps off.
I wobble as I turn to face Ella. She bites her lip and then quietly murmurs, ‘You okay?’
‘I’m peachy .’ I sink the rest of my drink, feeling shit for being grumpy with my friend. Hell, I’m not the grumpy one around here.
What the fuck am I doing?
I sigh and rub at the headache blossoming behind my temples. ‘You need some help clearing up?’
She looks over to Nate, who’s winding up the end of the microphone cable.
‘Yes, please,’ she lies and slips off her stool. She reaches out to grip my hand as we weave through the pub away from the bar. Away from Scott.
Ella turns to face me when we’re far enough away. ‘What’s happened? He get in your head or something?’
‘ Something .’ I stagger, and she manages to hip bump me into a seat. I sit heavily and take a moment to steady myself, my vision lurching to keep up. ‘Sorry. I’m a mess.’
‘You need a ride home? You can hang out over here and we’ll take you in a bit.’
‘I put Jamie on my insurance. He’s driving me home.’
‘Okay, well, just … chill here, okay?’
‘I’m such a dick.’ I slump back into the bank seat.
‘Yes, but you’re my dick.’
She hugs me and I whisper, ‘I’m so pissed off with him. And I’m pissed off with myself for still wanting him. No,’ I grab her knee and try to level my squiffy gaze, ‘I’m fucking furious.’
‘That explains the anger … guzzling. I’ll get you some water.’
‘Thunder shots,’ I murmur as she retreats. The cocktails I’d sunk steadily catch up with me, and I find my eyes getting heavier.
It’s cold. Everything’s rocking. I burrow my head down into the glorious warm hardness surrounding me to try to make it disappear.
I sway to the right, then to the left. Then I’m slipping forwards as if stopping suddenly. Fabric slides under me. I prise an eye open and find I’m lying on the back seat of a car, half covered in something big and heavy. It’s freezing and I wrap it around me as I push up to sit straight.
‘Don’t fucking vomit back there,’ Jamie chuckles. ‘If it didn’t feel so good to be returning this favour, I’d be so pissed off.’
‘What?’ I manage to ask through my fuzzy mouth. ‘What’s?—’
‘You need an update? You drank too much and fell asleep in the corner of the pub. I’m driving you home.’
I rub my face and repeat, ‘What?’
‘This must be your finest hour. At least you didn’t go home with any losers.’
‘What?’
‘Go back to sleep, Josie. I’ll wake you up when we get to your place.’