Chapter 24 #2
He swings the doors open, revealing a table with a red and white checked tablecloth.
Tall patio heaters stand guard over the table, already glowing orange.
Tubs of Chinese food wait for us, as well as a bottle of wine.
The scent of spices, soy, and ginger aren’t enough to mask the scent of hay and wood dust, but he’s done his damn best.
‘It’s perfect.’
‘Thank you. Was worried it was a little too romantic. Setting the bar so high might be a mistake for all our other dates’ — the fact he’s planning more sends me giddy — ‘but I reckon you’re worth it.’
I play it cool. I can’t be fuelling his ego too much by gushing over plans for the future. He’d never get out of the barn with his humungous head. ‘You think we might get a second date?’
‘Why don’t we see how tonight goes first?’ He guides me towards the table, pulling out my chair for me. ‘You might be a loud chewer or something, and I would have no choice but to dump you.’
‘We’ve shared a lot of meals, Rhys. You’d know if I was a noisy eater. Also, I’m offended that my chewing could get me dumped.’
‘I put up with a lot already.’
‘I’ll keep my mouth shut. Who knew you had such fussy tastes?’ A sheet of kitchen paper has been folded on top of our plates, and he drapes one carefully over my lap, like a high-end waiter covering me with a linen napkin.
‘Better to learn now than when we’re a hundred years in and hate each other. Although… calling things off would make things awkward at work.’ His face is solemn, but by the twitch of his lips, he’s clearly fighting his smile.
‘I’d get over it.’ I wouldn’t. I’d be devastated.
‘Eventually?’
‘Straight away.’
He chuffs a laugh and settles in his own seat. ‘Glad to see I’m forgettable.’
‘You’re anything but forgettable.’
In the glow of the candles on our table and the fairy lights criss-crossed over the barn’s ceiling, there’s a sparkle in his eyes.
His look is mischief, danger, a promise of what’s to come later.
It tells me some of the worries over the text messages are gone, if only temporarily.
All I want is for him to get a chance to relax. That’s worth everything to me.
‘I didn’t know what you’d want, so I ordered what I like. Hope that’s all right?’ he asks, reaching for the first tub.
‘Oh, this is all fantastic, Rhys.’ Chances are, I’d eat any of it. ‘I’m surprisingly not as nervous as I thought I would be,’ I admit once I’ve swallowed my first mouthful of food.
‘Cos you don’t give a fuck about how our date goes? Or did our little moment in Cai’s room earlier help you relax?’
‘The latter.’ I need the barn to be darker so he can’t see how hot my cheeks turn, especially as his perma-grin morphs into a smirk.
‘I usually hate first dates because they’re horrific.
Never had a good one. Not that I’ve been on many of them.
Nobody knows what to say, and you spend most of the time paranoid you’ll put your foot in it, or do something to give them the ick. ’
‘What the fuck is the ick?’ he asks, around a mouth full of food.
‘It’s when you do something basic or normal – at least to you – but it turns the other person off.’
‘Like chewing loudly?’ He shovels more noodles into his mouth.
‘Or eating like a pig.’ But the inhaling of his food isn’t enough to turn me off. It’s kind of endearing – like a puppy snaffling his favourite treats.
‘What you see is what you get, Luce. I don’t know what else to tell you.’
‘It’s a good job I like what I see, isn’t it?’
It’s funny how I’ve always found reasons to not pursue things romantically.
It’s not the right time, we’re not in the right country, the person doing something so miniscule, I use it as an excuse to never see them again.
Anything to not have to put myself out there, risk ridicule or heartbreak.
With Rhys, it’s different. I don’t want any of this to stop, and I don’t flinch as he chomps away at a spring roll with gusto, so loud, the whole of Scotland can probably hear him.
‘So,’ I continue, ‘you’ve been working for Cai for what? Nine years now?’
‘Fifteen. Though he’s only been famous for ten of them.’
‘That’s a long time. I’ve been with two other artists since then.’
‘Topaz and…’
‘A small performer called Sheridan. Worked a circuit of the South East social clubs mostly, and we barely ventured past the M25. He was a boozer, and I worked hard to improve his reputation. It gave me enough experience to get started, and one word to a friend of his when he retired, and I was in talks with Topaz’s people.
And working for him was a whole new world.
Do you think working as security for Cai is it for you? ’
‘Didn’t know I was coming for an interview, Luce.’ He presses his foot to mine.
‘It’s not an interview.’ I laugh. ‘I’m interested in what your life plans are. Making conversation, you know?’
The pressure against my foot increases, counteracting the narrowing of his eyes. He finishes his last bite, swallows, then washes it down with a swig of wine.
‘Would it be so bad if this was it for me? It’s not an awful job. Easy, for the most part, and I get a fuck ton of opportunities I’d never get if I did something else. Plus, I’ve saved a load of cash since I charge everything to the business account.’
‘Rhys Pritchett, you do not.’
‘This meal I did, but Gethin was buying for everyone else anyway.’ He abandons his chopsticks and reaches across the table to take my cast, holding it carefully.
He’s such a big guy, yet he’s gentle with me.
I adore the contrast. ‘But otherwise, no. I pay for everything myself unless it’s for the business.
Cai’s got enough money to burn, and he gets enough freebies. ’
‘And do you have plans for your savings?’
‘Oh. You’re a gold digger. That’s why you’re here. The pop star’s already kinda taken, so you’ve moved onto the burly bodyguard.’
If it were anyone else, I’d worry I’d upset them, or worry my reputation was going down the drain. But he’s still playing footsie with me, still caressing the tips of my fingers with his thumb, still grinning across the table at me.
‘I’m curious.’
‘Sure, curious. I’ll be watching my bank account with you about.
’ He jabs his chopsticks at me then spears more noodles with them.
‘I did think about starting my own company, doing the security thing on a bigger scale. Put together teams to look after upcoming stars, develop safety strategies, consult on tours. That sort of shit. Not many companies offer it, and definitely not as good as me. Y’know I didn’t get much training when I started with Cai.
Most of it, I made up.’ His smile fades, and he focuses on the shiny white plaster of my cast. ‘But what do I know about running a business? Haven’t got a scooby. Pipedream, that’s all it is.’
‘It could be more than a dream, Rhys.’ A company is a great next step, and potentially something we could do together. Eventually. ‘There’s a massive gap in celebrity services.’
‘Nah, I’d be shit at it.’
Although his voice is light, and the smile returns to his face, it’s forced. The glitter in his eyes twinkles out. I grip hold of his fingers, ignoring the tight pull of pain across my hand. ‘Well, I think you’re the best person for the job, Rhys. I bet Gethin would help you.’
He pulls a face. ‘Yeah, because he’d be super keen. He already thinks I’m an idiot.’
‘He doesn’t. Anyway, you don’t know until you try. I could help with the plans. There must be some benefit to snogging a girl who loves to organise people, right?’
‘Cheers, Luce. I’ll think about it.’
Like at the market, he’s closing off, his confidence disappearing as fast as our meal.
I lean across the table, being careful not to let my hair or boobs catch on a candle, to give him a soft kiss, putting everything I can into it.
He deserves a chance at success, to get what he wants from the world.
When I sit, he’s grinning at me. ‘What about you?’ he asks.
‘I’ve not thought much about it. I’d like a permanent contract with Cai.’
‘And then?’
It’s a good question. My life plan has always been about keeping a job, being brilliant at it and keeping everybody I love proud of me.
Failure isn’t an option. But that’s as far as I’ve allowed myself to consider.
My plans for everyone else are detailed, but I’ve shied away from looking too deeply at my own.
Because if I get it wrong, if I do something out of turn to upset my dads? Well, that would be the end for me.
‘I don’t actually know,’ I admit.
‘It’s a nice night. Why don’t we go for a walk and figure it out?’
After a brief back-and-forth about tidying up – with him assuring me he’ll deal with it later – he takes my good hand and leads me out of the barn and along a footpath carved through the field next door.
The air is mossy, earthy, and it’s cold.
March in Scotland hits a lot harder. At my first shiver, he wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me tightly to his side.
‘You don’t need a plan, Luce,’ he tells me after we’ve walked for a few minutes. ‘But it’s not like you. You usually hate not knowing what comes next.’
I focus on the horizon, the line between sky and land softly blurring into each other. ‘Did I tell you I was adopted?’
‘Well, I figured, since you’ve got two dads, but you never explained why.’
‘My birth mother, whoever she was, wasn’t great at looking after me. I was eight months old when Social Services took me from her.’
He stops walking and pulls his jumper off, spreading it out over the grass before settling me on it. He sits next to me, as close as he can, and if he’s cold, he doesn’t complain about it.
‘Tell me more?’