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Five
Jamie
After walking for five minutes, I slip inside the next bar. It’s— a dive. There’s no other way to describe the place. The dark lighting that’s clearly meant to set the mood, fails epically as the only mood it sets is one where people end up drunk or dead. There are old wooden tables dotted around with scars from years of customers who have left their mark. Low playing music that sounds like old rock or jazz but isn’t loud enough to pay much attention to and a floor that my shoes stick to as I walk towards the bar.
Behind the bar, a guy in his late 40s with short, neat grey hair and a moustache, is stacking glasses on the shelves. He doesn’t look my way as I approach, but I have no doubt he knows I’m there.
As he stacks the last glass on the shelf, he calls over his shoulder, “What can I get you?” His voice is raspy, like he probably smokes forty fags a day and washes it all down with several fingers of whiskey. I don’t miss the unspoken question, ‘what’s a girl like you doing in a bar like this?’
“I’ll have a Jack on the rocks, and make it a large one, please.” I place my bag on the bar in front of me and use the brass rail lining the bar to climb on to the rickety bar stool to my right.
The guy looks at me from the corner of his eye, quirking his brow, but doesn’t say anything as he moves to prepare my drink. I take a look around while I wait.
Over in the far left corner are two old guys with their pints of bitter on the table, one reading a paper and the other is watching the small TV screen on the wall.
Turning the other way, I spot a guy on his phone. He looks around my age, dressed in distressed black jeans and a white t-shirt and grey hoodie. His hair is dark brown, greasy looking and long, tied back at the nape of his neck in a ponytail. I can’t really see his face as he is looking down at his phone.
The sound of a glass meeting the bar top has me turning back to the barman. He’s standing with both hands on the bar in front of him, and a scowl on his face.
“Anything else?”
“Wow! Service with a smile.” He just glares at me even more. “Okaaay. No, thanks.” He turns and walks to the other end of the bar without another word.
I pick up my glass and take a swig just as the door to the bar opens. A soft breeze blows in from outside and the scent of Gucci by Gucci wafts over me. When I turn to look, I see the back of a guy heading to the table with the young guy I was looking at earlier. The long-haired guy gets up from his seat, greeting the newcomer with a friendly handshake.
The newcomer is wearing dark trousers with a white shirt and brown leather shoes. His black hair is slicked back, and from the front I don’t doubt he’ll be sporting a quiff. Because I know exactly who this man is. In fact, I know him intimately. Seb.
What is it with this guy being every fucking place I go? Can’t get him out of my head, and now I have to see him everywhere too? This is fucked up!
I quickly look away as he takes his seat opposite the long-haired guy. Not wanting him to see me, I turn my whole body away from them and focus my attention on the news report on the TV across the room.
Not looking at him does nothing to quiet the fast pounding of my heart, and the thrum of arousal that skitters over my body and between my thighs. I need to get the fuck out of here. Now!
My eyes flit around the bar for a way out that won’t draw attention to myself, and when I catch the eye of the barman, I indicate that I want to pay without having to speak for fear Seb will hear me. I knock back the rest of my JD as the barman comes over with the card machine, and I snatch up my bag, pulling out my purse and quickly pay for my drink. Thank god for contactless.
Realising I have no other way out except the way I came in, I turn just enough to be able to see Seb and the other guy from the corner of my eye. They are both hunched over the table between them, in a heated discussion. Let’s hope like fuck they are so engrossed neither of them will notice me slipping past.
Quietly thanking the barman, I slowly rise from the stool, taking a moment to smooth my clothing, although there’s not much smoothing can be done to a pair of jeans. It’s a long enough pause for me to double check I’m in the clear before I metaphorically make a run for it.
I walk with my head held high, a facade of confidence and a little bit of the ‘fuck you’ attitude I’m known for straight for the exit. ‘Nearly there. Keep going. You got this.’ I repeat it over and over again. And just as my hand latches onto the door handle, I hear a name that has me pausing. Jasper Williams. Why the fuck is Seb here talking to some street rat about Jasper? I can’t stop myself from turning to look at them both, and as I do, Seb turns my way. Before he can even form words in his brain, I sling the door open and race out onto the street. And I’m running away again. Three times in one day, and it’s only 2pm. Must be a freaking record or something.
I hear the door of the bar open, and Seb calling my name, but I don’t stop. Instead, I slip down a side street that I know leads to a park and hope he doesn’t decide to give chase.
Once I reach the park, slightly out of breath, I call for a cab. While I wait, I text Jasper and agree to meet him for dinner. There’s something going on, and I want to know what. Plus, a few drinks, dinner and some awesome sex, aren’t a bad price to pay to find out why the fuck Seb is asking about Jasper.
When I get homethere’s another message from my mum, and surprise, surprise, one from Cam. There are also a dozen or so missed calls from her on my mobile and deciding that I need to put at least one fire out, I call Cam.
“Shit, Jamie. What the hell is going on? I’ve been worried sick.”
“Calm down, Cam, before you go into labour and I have Blue out for my blood. I’m fine, just busy that’s all.”
“Busy? Too busy to call me. Nu-huh, no way. I’m coming over.”
“No,” I say with a little too much force. I soften my voice a little when I speak again. “No, Cam. Look, I’m kinda busy right now, but I’m off tomorrow. How about I come see you then?”
Cam huffs down the phone. “Okay, fine. But if you don’t, then be prepared to feel the wrath of an immensely irritated, heavily pregnant and uncomfortable friend who will kick your arse. And expect to get a second arse kicking from Ryder for upsetting me and in turn forcing me to take it all out on him, up to and including withholding sex.”
“Oh my god! And there was me thinking I was the biggest ball breaker. Apparently, I have nothing on you. I promise I will be there, okay.” Cam accepts my promise, and we say goodbye.
