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“Tour going okay?” Chitchat. I needed to keep them occupied a little longer. I didn’t envy Finn, who was no doubt getting an earful off Lauren. We were usually better prepared than this. We’d have security everywhere, park the tour bus out front while the celebrities were escorted in through the loading dock, and yes, there were good reasons the seasoned staff took time off if we had big bands staying. It made for an interesting workday, that was for sure.
The lift dinged, and Imran, in his waiter’s uniform, strolled out like he owned the place.
“Guys!” he hollered.
“Hey!”
Ah, so apparently, Imran and Cork were well acquainted, and there were high fives and chatter as Imran came round the back of the bar, stole a biscuit and shoved it in his mouth.
“Claire will kill you,” he told me with a grin. “Those biscuits are for the Golfing Association awards.”
“It’s not like there’s a national shortage of miniature biscuits,” I countered, reflexively popping one in my own mouth. It was nice. Soft. Buttery. Crumbly on my tongue. I had to smile because I was starting to think like Ben, describing textures and flavours as soon as I put something in my mouth. I never ate biscuits. Ever.
“Good brew,” Dieter said. I recalled from their previous stays that he rarely spoke, so it must’ve been good. “Any chance of another one?”
“That depends,” Imran answered, putting his elbows on the counter.
“Dude, Lauren has tickets for you guys.” Cork held his cup out at me. With a sigh, I flicked the switch on the water heater behind me.
“You want to come?” Imran was looking straight at me. “Nothing else, just come watch the show. They’re really good. Bring Ben. I mean Chef. If you fancy?”
“Hugo, youneedto come.” That was Dieter. He held out his empty mug to me. “After all, you make great tea.”
“Thanks.” I laughed. “I don’t know any of your songs.” I did actually, but I was feeling…I didn’t know. High? I popped another biscuitinto my mouth. I would regret it later as the sugar rush went to my head, but hey. That was for future me to deal with.
“All their songs sound the same,” Imran deadpanned. “It’s not that hard. It’s allLa-La-La, baby, La-La-La, girl, baby girl…”
The band howled, protesting loudly until the lift opened, and Lauren swept in, clipboard in hand shouting at the boys to settle down.
“I hope that’s decaf and that no dairy has passed your lips,” she growled.
I lifted up the carton of almond milk I’d taken out of the fridge in preparation and held it up in the air. Lauren rolled her eyes.
“Good job,” Imran whispered. “And come to the concert, yeah? Just hang out?”
“I’ll think about it,” I said, and I meant it, but my phone pinged, distracting me.
Yo, brother dearest. I need the number for that new boyfriend of yours. I need to send him a threatening text to ensure he never lays a finger on you. I’m serious here.
For heaven’s sake.
Willa, pack it in. I’m…
I stopped myself right there. Then I sent her Ben’s number because he would find it funny. And because after everything…
Perhaps I wasn’t a grown up at all. I still needed people to have my back. And perhaps Ben needed that too.
I love you, sis.
I sent it, and then I got in the lift, leaving Claire to work her charms on a bunch of kids and their babysitter. I had things to do. Things like…
I smiled at my reflection in the lift mirror. Laughed a little.
Life was so much easier when you didn’t have to be scared of everything all the time. When you had people in your corner. Family.
I had people. It was a strange concept to swallow, but I did. And I smiled all the way back down to the lobby.
Ben
