From the Heart (A Valentine's Day Anthology) (26 page)

Chapter Two

“I want those glasses spotless,” Mr Grumpy shouts. “Polish them with the glass cloth to a high shine, then put them on the shelves.” I’m already doing as he says. I think he has a touch of OCD as he insists on telling me this every shift I work, and if there is the slightest sign of a water mark he gets even grumpier. He’s already explained to me what he expects of me the first day I started here - ten fucking years ago. Has it really been that long? I’m not a goldfish; I’ve not forgotten how he likes things done. Albeit, some days I can hardly remember my own name after a session of drinking, but nonetheless, I can remember how to do this mundane job. He didn’t get his nickname by chance, he earned it.

“Yeah, yeah,” I whisper under my breath.

“What was that?” Oh crap, he heard me. He’s scowling at me over the top of his spectacles that are too big for his face. The fifty something man has run this bar since dinosaurs roamed the earth. The stress of running his own business has caused premature balding and greying hair. As far as I can remember, his appearance hasn’t changed in all the time I’ve known him. He’s not completely bald, but he’s close and the hair he has left is almost white. He has a beer belly, I’m sure that’s from his ‘tasting the beer, to make sure it’s not off’, mentality.

“Yeah boss,” I say as enthusiastically as I can.

Nothing exciting ever happens in here. During the week I don’t see many customers, but at weekends the place really livens up. Today is a weekday and it’s just as boring as any other. It’s cold outside, there was a frost this morning, which means my badly behaved neighbour was singing along to something tasteless in her car. The song and her singing made my ears bleed, I could’ve throat punched her, anything to get her to shut up. The last thing I need though is time off work, or even being sacked because of a night in the cells, charged with assault. A criminal conviction wouldn’t bode well for me; even if my hypothetical plans ever turn into something. Having a black mark against my name would certainly drive me into a never-ending pit of despair, with no hope of ever resurfacing. I really need to get a grip. There are people in this world who have absolutely nothing or no-one, I should count my blessings. “Another pint Fred?” I ask the eighty something pensioner who waddles up to the bar. He nods and I begin to pour his ale. He’s in here most days, especially when it’s pension day. He sits nursing a pint for two hours, then has four more. He sits in the corner sipping his beer, reading a newspaper and occasionally flits his eyes to the TV. He doesn’t speak to anyone, except the bar staff when ordering his beverage. I’ve never seen him smile either. Most of the staff that work here have tried at some time or another to start a conversation with him, but he just walks away, sits down at his usual table and carries on reading the daily paper. We’ve just learned to accept him, let him do his thing until he leaves around 10pm.

BBC news is on the TV, the same news is repeated continuously throughout the day. Mr Grumpy likes to watch the news; he says that it’s important to keep abreast of current affairs. He’s got ‘Sky’, yet he watches terrestrial TV. “Please let me put MTV on,” I’m begging. It’s dead in here, Fred is the only customer. I just served him a pint, so I have another two hours to wait until he needs a refill – I’m bored rigid.

“I’m watching the news,” Grumpy says sternly, the points at the screen for good measure. Knowing him, he’s just perving over the sexy blonde woman reading the stories from around the world, on a continuous fifteen minute loop. I’m losing my mind.

There’s only so much cleaning you can do. I start to polish all the bottles of spirits – again, anything to alleviate the boredom. The bottles are gleaming; in fact this whole bar is cleaner than my apartment. “Bottle of water please,” I hear a deep velvety voice say. That’s funny, I didn’t hear anyone else come in. In a fraction of a second the hairs on my neck stand up, my body is covered in goose bumps and my mind conjures up the visions of Mr Vin Willis. I giggle to myself; my analogy of the two movie stars makes me smile. I turn around and there he is. The tattoos are as brilliant as ever, I can see a few more today because he’s wearing a grey marl T-shirt. The lights over the bar are reflecting the shine on his bald head and his blue eyes look darker as he stands under the artificial bulbs of light. I walk to the back of the horseshoe shaped bar and pull out a bottle of water from the fridge, then pull down a small high-ball glass.

“Ice?” I ask him with a sweet tone.

“Just the bottle, no glass. Thanks.” He says politely. His manners are impeccable. He knows his please and thank you’s, so I’m certain he’s had a great upbringing. Most of the customers that come in here forget that we live in a civilised society, it’s just good conduct to remember your manners - it makes me mad when customers are rude.

As I stand in front of him with just the thick mahogany separating us, then placing the bottle on the bar, my eyes gravitate towards his once more. He’s just as handsome as I remember from last week. His eyes stare at mine, and there’s a small hint of a grin. His lips slightly curl up, flashing me with a little glimpse of his teeth - they’re white and straight, as far as I can tell. He hands me the money, then turns to walk away. I put the money in the till and turn back around. It’s like my alter ego wants to feast her eyes on him some more, I don’t have a choice. I’m shocked when I watch him as he takes a seat next to Fred. Fred actually smiles, they both do.

I watch as they both interact with each other. The mystery guy’s body language is open, he’s sitting in a welcoming position and I realise that he’s probably related to Fred - nephew or grandson perhaps. I’ve never seen him around here before, having worked here for a very long time. I’d certainly recognise him if he had.

Fred and the mystery hottie are both in deep conversation; it looks intense as they converse. I keep staring at him; unable to stop myself from drinking him in. He has this conscious ability to summon my eyes towards him, to devour him. It’s been a very long time since I’ve felt any of these emotions, the emotions I feel when he’s around are hard to ignore, and they’re even harder to eradicate.

They both stand up, they embrace lovingly. Fred returns to his seat and his beer, but the tatted piece of hotness starts to walk towards me. I can see him in my peripheral vision walking in my direction, I don’t want him to know that I’ve been lusting after him for the last half an hour, so I keep my eyes on the glass that I’m cleaning to a high standard. It’s already spotless, enough so that it would pass any cleanliness test, but still, I twist the cloth in my hands, keeping my eyes focused on the inanimate object. “What time do you finish work?” He says as he reaches me.

“Why do you want to know?” I’m defensive, I have no idea why.

“Maybe I want to spend some time with you, so I will ask again. What time do you finish work?” I’m dumbfounded; he wants to spend time with me. Mousey me, worthless me, no hope of being anything me. Surely not, I’m sure he’s taking the piss. I’m silent for a few seconds, I notice his impatience forming. He’s shifting from foot to foot, and I can see him gritting his teeth as the muscles in his cheeks are tensing. He looks at his watch.

“Seven,” I say and I somehow feel the need to elaborate, “the evening staff come in then, they take over from me,” did I really need to tell him all that? He looks at his watch again.

“I will be back in three hours then,” he says walking towards the door. He won’t be back; I’m willing to bet money on it. He’ll realise that I’m not worth anything and will stand me up. The door closes behind him, and the bar is plunged into darkness yet again. I get the feeling that I won’t see him again - ever, I am unequivocally unsure. Still, there is this little glimmer of hope, maybe he will. This is going to be the longest three hours of my life. I am determined not to build my hopes up. When hopes are raised, and things don’t go as you expect them to, that’s when the hope you felt is suddenly ripped from you, hope explodes into a billion pieces, then there’s nothing left but a feeling of complete and utter misery. I’ve been let down before.

More news on repeat, more glass polishing and another pint of beer served to Fred, so two hours later, I realise there is only one hour to go before I am stood up by the gorgeous dude with all the tats. The door bursts open, blasting me with a burst of cold air, “ask me who’s the best friend in the whole freaking world.”

“Who’s the best friend in the world?” I look up from the newspaper; Fred gave me, after he’d finished reading it.

“Me, that’s who,” Benny has been shopping; well she’s laden with half a dozen shopping bags. Either that or she’s turned into a designer ‘bag lady’. Gucci, Prada et cetera bags are draped over the crook of her elbow. “I couldn’t resist a little shopping spree; I’ve been so down lately. This is just what I needed to cheer me up.” It would take a lot more than retail therapy to help me. 

“So why are you the best friend in the whole world?” I ask her. I wish she’d get on with it. I have to get back to reading the newspaper and pretending I’m not bothered if Mr Vin Willis decides he’s made a huge mistake.

“Because, my gloomy and cheerless friend, I have bought you these,” she says, whipping something out of one of her designer shopping bags so fast, I almost get whiplash. “These my darling friend, are the latest designer jeans that make your ass look good enough to eat.” I think the look on my face is priceless, I’m certain it shows disgust.

“Are you kidding me?”

“No, look at them, aren’t they beautiful? These are the best things ever. Beyonce has them, Rihanna has them, all the major A-list stars have them babe. I’ve got a pair too - see.” She pulls another pair of jeans out of the same bag. The excitement in her voice is so adorable.

“How much were these?” I ask as she throws a pair in my size over the bar at me. I look down at the dark blue denim in my hands; they’re skinny fit and the right leg length. They look amazing.

“Three hundred quid,” I gasp, “each.”
Holy shit
.

“I can’t accept these; you’ll have to take them back.”

“No way, they’re my treat. They really work too; I promise that your ass will look like a million pounds in them.” She has puppy dog eyes, I’m speechless.

“Okay,” I concede. She jumps up and down with joy. I would never be able to afford to buy clothes like these. Even if I could, I don’t think I would anyway. I’ve never had money, so I don’t know how I would spend it if I did. If I was rich, I think I’d be in and out of rehab every other month. My taste for rum would certainly get me in trouble. I spend money on that stuff enough as it is, and my liver would certainly be pickled to within an inch of its life. In my mind’s eye, I can see my damaged liver in a glass jar filled with clear liquid; it’s in a science lab where people study it to warn of the dangers of drinking too heavily. I smile at my own ridiculous thoughts.

“Why are you so cheery today?” Oh hell, now I’m going to get it. Do I really have to tell her what happened today?

I fold up the jeans in my hand, “remember the sexy guy from last week? He was in here. He called you shorty,” the look of distaste on her face says that she remembers him.

“Yeah, I remember him. What an a-hole.”

“Well, he’ll be here in about,” I glance at the clock behind the bar, “twenty minutes. He came by, spoke to Fred, and then said he wants to spend some time with me. But don’t worry, I’m ninety nine, point nine percent sure he will stand me up.”

“What makes you say that, and…” Benny holds up her hand to halt my mouth spouting all kinds of crap, “don’t say that you’re ordinary, mousey and a loser. You’re none of those things; you’re just stuck in a rut, that’s all.” Her kind words are sweet, but we both know that they’re a crock of shit. “You have a lot going for you babes, if you just applied yourself, you could achieve anything.” She’s about to say more, but I cut her off. I refuse to listen to her telling me things she thinks I need to hear. We both know that none of it is true.

“I call bullshit,” I can’t help laughing and Benny laughs with me. There are worse things that could happen in a girl’s life, being stood up is not the end of the world. 

Chapter Three

I knew he wouldn’t come.

I tie my scarf around my neck, slip on my gloves, then wrap my jacket around me. The winter freeze is almost upon us and it’s hard to ignore the biting cold as I walk out of the bar. I sling my handbag over my shoulder; it’s got those bloody jeans in it along with all my personal shit. I realise I’m smiling, which is strange considering I’ve been stood up. But the fact that I own a pair of expensive jeans, bought by my crazy friend, has me feeling quite happy. But Christ, they cost a lot of money. I feel guilty; I never buy Benny anything like that. The occasional bar of chocolate, a drink at the bar on one of our
many
nights out, stuff like that is all I can afford. I would never be in a position to buy her something so expensive.

Her parents are loaded; they paid for the apartment we live in. It was bought outright; the only things we pay for are the bills and food. I help out with all that stuff, even though Benny is in a well paid job. I would never expect her to pay for everything.

I find myself thinking about the mystery stranger as I walk home, ‘I want to spend some time with you’, he’d said. I think he’s full of shit. I contemplate punching him on the nose, if I ever see him again - which is doubtful.

As I approach the steps to my front door I spot someone - just sitting there. I squint my eyes, trying hard to see who it is, male or female? I don’t know. I slow my pace, walking gingerly. And then I realise who it is - what the fuck is she doing here? As I approach, she’s got her head down, looking at the floor. She hears my footsteps getting closer and lifts her head, her eyes meet mine. I watch as her shoulders sag, she seems lost and has a look of sorrow on her face. “What do you want?” My tone is hard, thoughtless and cold.

“I need to talk to you,” she says with a lump in her throat. I can see her Adams apple bobbing; she’s trying hard to swallow that golf ball that’s stuck there.

“I don’t have anything to say to you. Please leave me alone.” I walk up the steps to my apartment, then step over the woman who screwed me over, open the front door and walk inside. I’m sure that when I slam the door so hard it almost comes off its hinges, it also shows her just how much I’m still holding a grudge.

The apartment is in darkness, so I switch on a small table lamp. Too much light in the room would certainly piss me off. I need muted light and warmth, so I switch on the central heating and make a cup of coffee. I hear a knock on the door, “fuck off!” I shout. I know she can hear me. I think she got the message because I spend the next twenty minutes enjoying a cup of coffee and two chocolate biscuits in silence. Benny must be out, somewhere. Obviously the message isn’t clear enough; three more knocks on the door echo through the apartment. “For fuck’s sake, fuck off!” I sound angrier as I scream louder this time. The knocks come again. I run towards the door in temper, then I pull it open hard and fast. When it hits the wall, a small piece of plaster falls away and drops to the floor. My nemesis is no longer there, but in her place is the good looking bastard from the bar. I look left, then right, scanning the street for the woman who pissed me off so many years ago. There’s no sign of her anywhere. I turn my attention back to
him
standing in front of me, “how did you know where to find me?” 

“Rob told me.” I look at him confused.

“Rob?” I question. “Oh, you mean Mr Grumpy.”

“Yeah, he told me where to find you. I’m sorry I’m late. Better late than never though, right?” He sounds sincere and he shows a cheeky grin on his face. We stand there looking at each other for what seems like a thousand years. “Are you going to invite me in?” It’s freezing, the wind is picking up and it’s dark out. I’m shivering as I stand on the doorstep.

“I don’t know you. You could be a murderer or a rapist,” I say wrapping my chunky cardigan around me.

“I’m neither of those things,” he says with a smile. I get to see his teeth fully this time. They’re straight apart from one of his canines, it’s a little crooked.

“I don’t even know your name.”

“Connor,” he says, reaching out his hand for me to shake. “You’re Kat, right?” I nod, “so now we’re introduced.” I nod again.

“My roommate will be home soon,” I say as a warning. If he tries anything funny, then Benny will be able to call the cops. I like him, he seems a genuine guy so I step aside to let him in. “Okay, come on in.” He walks into the lounge and takes off his hat revealing that glorious bald head, next his gloves and scarf are gone. I watch with my mouth hanging open as he takes off his coat. He’s wearing a cable knit jumper in a dark charcoal; it clings to his strong muscular physique. He’s wearing jeans that fit his chunky thighs like a second skin. “Coffee?” I ask, finally finding my voice.

“I’d love some, thanks. Two sugars, please.” I walk into the kitchen, leaving him to look around Benny’s place. I hope he doesn’t think that I have money, that I’m something I’m not.

I’ve refilled my mug and hand the second mug to Connor. As I look at him, I’m reminded how stunning his facial features are, they’re as glorious as ever and his tall powerful build is mouth watering. I sit in the armchair; he’s sat on the sofa. Distance is good. I’m starting to warm up again after standing at the door, I think it’s more to do with the company I’m keeping, rather than the heating blaring away.

I’m not much of a talker, so I’m trying to come up with something to talk about. Connor saves me, but his question is one I don’t want to answer. “Who was the woman at the door?”

“Jehovah’s Witness,” I lie. “I soon told her where to go. I’m an atheist; I don’t want to listen to her ramble on about her imaginary friend.” My reference to God, or any God for that matter, has not been a part of my life since my parents died. I’m sure Connor can tell I was lying about who the woman was, but he doesn’t press me any further.

“I see.” He doesn’t believe me. She wasn’t dressed in the attire the Witnesses usually dress in, she looked scruffy and bedraggled. Last time I saw her, she was dressed in designer clothes, and was going to the Caribbean for two weeks, she didn’t even give me the time of day. I’m unable to stop myself from wondering what has happened to her in the last few years. “So, is this your place?” He asks me, breaking me out of my thoughts.

“No, oh God no. This is Benny’s place.”

“You have a boyfriend?” He says and his eyes fall down to the mug he’s holding tightly in his hands. Whenever I mention Benny, people always assume that she’s a guy.

“Oh no, Benny is my female friend, you met her at the bar. Her name is Bernadette, but it was shortened to Benny by her brother. He could never say Bernadette, he came out with Benny and it’s stayed with her, forever really.” I can’t help a little giggle that escapes my lips. “It’s a common misconception.”

“Well, now I feel like an idiot. I just presumed that you’d have a boyfriend.”

“Why would you presume that?”

“Because, you’re stunning.” I think my mouth just hit the rug at my feet, I know my cheeks resemble a beetroot right now.

“Thank you,” I’ve never handled compliments well. I want to tell him that I think he’s gorgeous, but I hold my tongue. I don’t want him to think that I feel the need to return his compliment. He must know I like him, I’ve been staring at him enough over the last week. I’m doing it now. “Where are you from? I’ve not seen you around here before. What brings you to Jersey?” I’m aware that I’m bombarding him with questions, but something is telling me to divert his questions, I hate being at the centre of conversations. Besides, I find him fascinating and I feel the need to know more about him.

“I’m from Edinburgh originally, but I live in London now.” I’ve not picked up on a Scottish accent; he must have lost it along the way. I think he realises my thoughts, “I left Scotland twenty years ago, to go and live with my aunt.” I don’t know how old he is. I’d say he was only a couple of years older than my twenty nine years. “My aunt put me through school, and raised me from the age of twelve.” I do the maths in my head, which makes him thirty two. “I work and live in London; I’m just here to see my uncle for a few days.”

“You mean Fred?” I ask. He nods, taking a sip of his coffee. “I thought he’d be your uncle or maybe a grandfather. When I saw you talking to him, I knew he had to be a relation.”

“Yeah, I’ve not seen him for years. How’d you guess he was a relation?”

“Just the way he smiled at you. Fred never smiles, but it looked like his face was going to split in two when he saw you,” we both laugh, his throaty laugh is deep, just like his voice.

It’s impossible to ignore that I am sexually attracted to him, who wouldn’t be? The guy is seriously hot, well spoken and polite. Even with all his tattoo’s I’d have no problem taking him home to meet my parents. But they’re dead, so I guess it’s a moot point.

“Are you from Jersey?” He asks me. I nod.

“I’ve lived here forever, and I love this place. I always have.” Jersey is a tiny island in the British Isles. It’s closer to France than England, but it’s part of Britain. We have amazing summers here, but the winters are extremely harsh. The population of this tiny island is roughly one hundred thousand people, and we have many tourists who visit here every year. I live in St Helier, the capital, close to the marina. It’s very quiet this time of year, but in the summer months this little place comes alive with visitors. The bar I work in gets a hell of a lot busier too. “I would never leave; it’s just too pretty here.”

“I agree,” he says. “I’ve only seen the cold Jersey, so I would love to come back in the summer to see what its like.”

“I think you’d love it, you should come back. Make us the destination for your yearly holiday. We’d welcome you here anytime.” I think I should apply for a job with the local tourist board; I could sell our little island to holiday makers. “There’s all sorts going on, loads of things to do.” Now I know I could get a job with them. Maybe I should submit an application form, it’s a thought.

“I think that paying another visit to Jersey is definitely on the cards.” He smirks at me. I get the feeling I’m being mocked, I’m not entirely sure, but just the way he’s looking at me says he’s in on some inside joke, something I’m not aware of.

“How long are you staying for?” I ask. I need to change the direction of this conversation.

“I’m not sure yet, it depends how long I can stay away from work.”

We’ve both drained our mugs. “More coffee?” I ask him.

“I should really get going.” I feel a twang of disappointment in my tummy that he has to leave. The rational side of my brain is telling me that it’s probably for the best. The last thing I need is to get involved with someone who’s not going to stick around, but my alter ego is wailing and stomping her feet like a two year old.

“Okay,” I say, trying really hard to keep the disappointment out of my voice, but failing miserably.

“Can I see you again?” My alter ego is dancing the Irish jig.

“Sure, I don’t have to work tomorrow. Just come by sometime, anytime is fine, or not. That’s fine too.” I’m rambling, I sound desperate, he must think I’m a moron.

“I
will
stop by tomorrow, I don’t know what time it will be, so I’ll surprise you.”

“I love surprises,” I don’t know why I need to tell him that. My mouth is stupid.

I walk him to the door. Before I open it, he looks at me, with his sparkly blue eyes shining brightly at me. They really are pretty, prettier than any sunset. He leans down to kiss my cheek, “great to meet you Kat, but from now on you’re my Jersey Girl.”

“Really? Oh, okay,” I say, blushing crazily. I open the door, and we’re almost knocked over by Benny running in. She stops in her tracks when she notices my visitor.

“Hey shorty,” he says to Benny. “See you tomorrow Jersey Girl,” he winks at me before walking down the steps. I watch as he walks away. I close the door, blocking out the freezing temperature and prepare to be assaulted with questions.