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Seven
Connie
I arriveat Lola’s Shack at exactly five minutes to six Monday morning. I’m not one for being late. Besides, I didn’t sleep last night. At all. Two glasses of Grandma’s port did nothing to help me drift off. All I could see on repeat the whole night long was Lola and Malakai kissing. No matter what I did I couldn’t rid myself of the thought. It was a mistake cycling to the harbour. I’m not sure what possessed me. Clearly I’m a glutton for punishment.
Even now, I keep seeing flashes of them and I’m reminded of how he held her close, his eyes pressed shut with his cheek rested against the top of her head, grasping hold of her tight like he was where he was supposed to be. When she’d stood on tiptoes and kissed him on that beautiful mouth of his, my insides had tied up in painful knots, but nothing could’ve prepared me for the way he looked at me after.
The bright smile he had showed her was replaced with a scowl that had gutted me. He looked at me likeIwas the storm that broke the mast of his boat. LikeIwas the reason for all the wrong in the world. He hates me.
I’m so stupid. So, so stupid.
Love at first sight my arse? That only works when the other one loves you back, right?
Grandma was correct about one thing: Malakai is, indeed, dangerous for my heart. How in the hell am I going to be able to work alongside Lola when she’s going to be hanging out with Malakai and playing tonsil tennis all hours of the day?
It’s going to betorture.
Pushing all thoughts of Malakai and Lola away, I get off my bike and lean it up against the shack, then grab my rucksack from the basket and head inside.
“Morning, Connie,” Lola greets me warmly. She’s got her hair piled up into a loose bun on her head and is wearing her usual dungaree shorts and t-shirt combination, oblivious to my unruly thoughts.
“Morning,” I reply, plastering on a fake smile to cover the jealousy that I’ve no right to feel.
“Pop your stuff out back and grab an apron from the hook on the door,” she instructs, nodding towards the small office that sits just off the side of the main counter. It’s no more than a broom cupboard really, but it serves it purpose, I suppose.
“Sure thing.”
“You didn’t bring your guitar?” she questions.
“You really don’t mind?”
“I wouldn’t have said so if I did.” She smiles warmly.
“Tomorrow then,” I agree.
Placing my rucksack on the office table alongside my hoodie, I pull on the apron and tie it up behind my back. There’s a slight chill in the air this morning, but it will soon warm up as the sun rises and burns away a layer of cloud that looks like the thin wisp of a virgin’s nightie blowing across the sky.
“Could you grab some rolls and butter them ready for the morning breakfasts? Most of these sailors love their white bread and heart attack inducing butter with their full English breakfasts.”
“I bet,” I respond with a lacklustre smile that doesn’t meet my eyes. She doesn’t seem to notice my mood. Which is just as well, given I need this job. Besides, my low mood isn’t really her fault. I shouldn’t be lusting after her boyfriend.
“I’ve been trying to introduce some healthier options onto the menu, but despite my efforts, the guys always order the same damn things. Bacon sandwiches, eggs on toast, a full English breakfast. I was really hoping that my avocado on rye and Greek yoghurt with granola and honey would be appreciated… it’s not.” She shakes her head, rolling her eyes and smiling ruefully.
“I guess being out on the boat trawling fish in all that fresh air can make a man real hungry,” I comment, buttering the rolls as asked.
A smirk pulls up her lips. “And you don’t think my avocado on rye will fill them up?”
I grimace. “Not really, no… Sorry, that probably really offended you.”
Lola snorts with laughter. “I don’t get offended easily, Connie. Don’t sweat it,” she replies, waving her hand before sorting out a stack of plates and cutlery in preparation for the patrons to arrive.
Half an hour later, I’m wiping down the tables and making sure all the salt and pepper shakers are full and each table has brown sauce, ketchup and mustard. There’s no fancy sauces here. I like that. Why change something that works anyway?
“Perfect, thanks, Connie,” Lola says, as she puts a bacon sandwich in a brown paper bag then pops it on the counter next to a takeaway cup of coffee. “Would you mind taking this to Malakai? I would do it myself, but I can see Rob’s trawler is just pulling in and I need to get the breakfast started for him and his crew.”
“You want me to take those tohim?” I ask, pulling a face that she completely misreads.
“He told me you’ve met. Sorry, he’s a bit of an arsehole until you get to know him.” She has a faraway look on her face as she stares out of the door and towards the harbour and his boat.
