AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Don’t think that new junior chef is going to make the cut. Not exactly what we expected.”
“Yeah, he’s cocky and not afraid to push his point. Talented, but that’s what’s so frustrating. Drives me fucking crazy.”
“Hmm, not like anyone I know when they started out. I mean, the lad I’m thinking of all those years ago was out to become the best of the best. Wonder what happened to him…” he rattles off at me with his smart mouth.
“He became your boss and can sack you on the spot for being such a jackass. Now let’s get out of here. You up for a beer over at the Cruise Bar before I jump on the last ferry? I need to blow off some steam.” Slamming my book closed and placing it back in my tray, I pull the tie on my apron. Once it slides off for the night, I’m done, and the staff know not to ask me anything. My late-night head chef who handles the room service during the night takes over, and I know he will handle anything that crops up.
“Only steam you want to blow? Well, I was thinking of finding a nice blonde who will turn this night around by blowing me instead.” Flynn hangs his apron on the hook next to mine, knowing when we return tomorrow our clean fresh ones will be hanging there in their place.
“You wish. All the women in that place are about ten years younger than us, and that just sounds like too much hard work for me. Call me crazy, but I don’t want a clinger.” Grabbing my phone, keys, and wallet from my locker, I notice multiple missed calls from Mum.
“Shit,” I can’t help but say aloud as I read her messages. She never calls when I’ve told her I’m at work, not unless it’s important.
Mum: Nic, sorry I forgot you were working. I’m going to bed now. Not important. Call me in the morning.
Noticing the time is almost eleven pm, I don’t want to call her, but something doesn’t sound right about this. Mum isn’t forgetful, and it’s not like I didn’t talk to her fourteen hours ago.
I can’t help but worry about it.
“Everything all right?” Flynn is standing beside me now, after retrieving his phone as well.
“Don’t know. Missed calls from Mum, but she says it’s all good. Oh well, I’ll have to wait until morning. Come on, your shout, on account of… ummm… oh yeah, you’re a Pommie, and they say they are tight with their money. So, take this as a training exercise on how to be an Aussie.” Slapping him on the shoulder, he just groans at my feeble excuse. I mean, it’s not like he hasn’t been in the country for over fourteen years or anything.
We have been friends since he walked into the restaurant where I was working as a second-year apprentice. He was straight off the plane from the UK, looking for work. He had no training whatsoever, and it turned out to be his lucky day. The first-year apprentice had quit that morning, and Flynn slotted straight into his job. We have managed to continue working together ever since. He might be slightly older than me, but that doesn’t mean anything in maturity levels. My mum tells me I’m an old soul, and Flynn hasn’t ever grown up, but somehow, we work as friends.
Walking through the hotel’s bar, I give a chin lift to the staff who are now cleaning up and serving drinks to the few couples still enjoying the quiet of the beautiful view outside. Hugo is on the side door tonight and smirks as he sees us coming toward him.
“Out on the town tonight, boys?” he asks, pushing the door open in front of us.
“Nah, heading home to bed like good little children,” Flynn says, holding his hands under his chin like he’s praying. He might have lived here for a long time, but he still has the broad English accent and some of the words that come out of his mouth make me laugh. You can take the man out of England, but you can’t take the English out of the man.
“Right, and the sky ain’t blue.” Hugo chuckles.
“Crap, did you say blue balls? Don’t jinx me, man!” Flynn thumps Hugo on the arm on the way past.
“Just watch the steps tonight. The wood’s getting slippery after all the rain.” Hugo points his flashlight at the stairway down to the boardwalk that runs around the rocks area. I love that the heritage of this place has been kept, and the buildings of yesteryear are still here and preserved.
“You think he would be a gentleman and help us down the stairs by holding our hands, wouldn’t you, Nic?” Hugo rolls his eyes as Flynn holds his hand out for him to take it, like he would take a lady’s hand to help her.
I’m still laughing at Flynn and his desperation to get laid tonight and worrying about his blue balls, that Hugo’s reaction just makes me laugh harder. Flynn has had a few girlfriends since he took up residence here, but then a few he has scared away back to their own countries too. Well, at least that’s what I tell him. It’s a common thing in our line of work and where we socialize. It’s a melting pot for overseas tourists who are here on a working holiday, just like he was in the beginning. He loves it, but for me, the thought of losing someone because they are going back home is a bit too close to real life.
“He’s good value, old Hugo, isn’t he? Always has a good comeback.” Walking toward the Cruise Bar, I’m only vaguely aware of a man who appears in his mid-fifties, sitting on a park bench under a large old oak tree, its branches spanning out over the boardwalk. The lights are strategically placed around it to make it look like a masterpiece of nature.
“I have a feeling he has a wicked sense of humor that we only get to see a part of.”
“True.” Flynn laughing, we fall into step next to each other as we come level with the oak tree.
The movement of the man standing as we approach doesn’t startle me as much as the name that comes out of his mouth.
“Richard?” His very broad English accent makes Flynn glance sideways but not enough to stop him from walking. It was just a voice that sounded like home to him.
But to me, it makes my blood pump and a shiver run down my spine. I haven’t heard that name in years, and in a broad English drawl. I freeze.
“Pardon?” My brain is too slow. I should have just kept walking and ignored him, but it’s too late now.
“It’s you, isn’t it? You’re Richard Nicholas Weston, Sally Weston’s son.”
My world stops spinning, and the ten missed phone calls from Mum suddenly make sense.
