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The place is packed. The opening band has already started, playing a cover of “Pour Some Sugar on Me,” and waitresses are bustling past us with trays of flat beer and fish and chips.
“Where do you want to sit?” I ask Harrison, having to raise my voice over the music, noticing that a lot of people are looking over at us, women in particular. I don’t look at them long enough to see if I know them.
“Wherever you like,” he says.
With the live music, most of the patrons are crowded near the stage in the upper portion of the pub, but being here is more about making an appearance, not being subjected to the drunk and sweaty masses, so I head toward the patio overlooking the marina, where I spot a table for two in the corner.
“Wasn’t the point of coming here to be seen?” Harrison says as he pulls out the chair for me to sit down. I mean, who does that? The English might.
“Thank you,” I say to him, touched by how ridiculously gentlemanly he’s being. I sit. “The loud music gives me anxiety. Being out here still counts.”
Particularly when I see none other than my favorite person, Amy Mischky, by the server station. I guess she has two jobs, and if I left the house more often, I’d have known that. She’s staring at me and Harrison before she gathers our menus.
I quickly smooth my hair around my face and give her a big, bright smile as she comes over.
“Hello,” I say to her.
“Hey,” she says, frowning at me, then ogles Harrison. “Didn’t think you’d show up.”
Ah, see, there’s the rub.
“Who could pass up the invite?” I say with a happy shrug.
She purses her lips for a moment, studying me, probably thinking lots of unkind thoughts. “Know what you’re having to drink?”
“The menus would be a helpful start,” Harrison says.
Ha! I love snarky Harrison.
Amy narrows her eyes at him for a split second, then pastes a very phony smile on her face. “Of course.” She drops the menus on the table and walks away.
“Love that you said that,” I say to him.
“If she’s as bad at serving as she is as a barista, this is going to be a long night.”
I take a menu. “That’s a sign that you haven’t been fully integrated into island life. Island life means that it’s everyone’s first day on the job, always. Just be happy they show up.”
He shakes his head, a touch of an amused smile on his lips as he looks over his menu. “To be honest, I’m not sure how you do it.”
“To be fair, it’s not like you have to deal with the public much.”
“Even so, the lack of efficiency is excruciating to me.”
“You get used to it. Just gotta go with the flow. That means stop worrying about things you can’t control.”
“I’m not worried. Controlled is a preference.”
“I think you’re getting preferences and needs mixed up.”
“I know the difference,” he says mildly, flipping the menu over. “Can’t remember the last time I had a beer.”
“Really? You make a pretty poor Brit.”
“Rightly so,” he says, twisting in his seat to wave over Amy.
She comes over reluctantly and stands in front of us, her hand on her hip. “So, what will it be?”
Harrison nods at me to go first.
“I’ll have a water and a Corona Light,” I say.
“I’ll have a brown ale.”
“Just the drinks, then,” she says, reaching to take the menus away.
Harrison places his palm down on them. “Haven’t decided yet,” he says in a polite yet firm voice, adding a flash of a smile at the end.
Amy’s either stunned by his smile or intimidated by his direction, and she blinks at him for a moment, her mouth dropping open until she manages to say, “Of course.”
She goes on to another table, Harrison watching her with a sneer to his lips. “I don’t like her,” he says, turning back to me. “She’s bad news.”
“Well, she comes from a long line of bad news,” I tell him. “Her mother is one of those people who writes editorials to the local newspaper, complaining about tourism or protesting against cell phone service or that a man she doesn’t even know is cutting down too many trees on his property. I’m actually shocked that she hasn’t written about you guys yet. I can’t imagine your being here has been a smooth transition for everyone else.”
“I hadn’t considered that,” Harrison muses, squinting at the sun. I know he’s dying to put on his sunglasses, but for some reason he hasn’t yet. “I’d just been so focused on you.”
I’d just been so focused on you.
That’s what he just said.
I hate that some part of me is absolutely melting, just the notion that someone has been paying attention, and that that someone is him.
His gaze goes over the marina. “I guess staying holed up at the house, we haven’t really been out and about to see how people feel about us.”
