“I’m fine.” I waved his words away dismissively. “Back in a jiffy.”
“Okay, but make sure you use the toilets out back; remember, you are not to be spotted in the front bar, we don’t want word getting out you’re in town.” Adam eyed me dubiously, as if the very thought of me walking a line to the ladies’ room was a terrifying notion.
I slapped the counter top. “Batter up,” I declared, thinking I really didn’t need another drink but what the hell.
“Okay, I’ll go hunt and gather, but straight there and straight back, okay?”
“Yes, Mum,” I said, tilting my head with a little smirk.
Adam simply shook his head, like he had gotten more than he bargained for. It was always a very outweighed partnership in the drinking stakes, I thought, as I zigzagged my way through the restaurant tables to the back toilets. Adam was like a tank and could drink me under the table any day of the week. It usually ended with him escorting me home and dumping my corpse into bed. Taking off my shoes and socks and covering me in a blanket like a true friend should.
I had managed to return to the bar without toilet paper stuck to my shoe or anything tucked into where it shouldn’t be, so go me. Adam still wasn’t back from the main bar with our drinks, and seeing as Chris hadn’t made an appearance in the back section of the bar for a while, it was only a guess that it must have been a pretty busy Friday night. I’m not sure if it was my dulled-down senses, or being left alone out back while the rest of the world enjoyed their freedom out front, but time really dragged on. It felt like an hour, although it had probably been more like fifteen minutes that Adam had been gone. He hadn’t been so drunk as to forget about me, surely? And if the bar was that busy, Chris would be having a heart attack; maybe he had called in Adam to help out for a bit, but then why hadn’t he come out the back and told me so? A girl could die of dehydration out here, or worse … get sober.
Oh, hell, no, I thought, moving to stand and shoving my purse under my arm. I’ll just stick my head into the forbidden zone and see what was going on. Adam would no doubt get the shits and prove the point that I was indeed the most impatient person he knew, which was clearly the truth as I tiptoed my way through the restaurant toward the flimsy divider that cordoned off the front of the hotel to the back. Not sure why I was tiptoeing: between the loud, animated chatter from the bar and the music pounding from the jukebox, it’s not like anyone would even hear me coming with bells sown to my thongs and a mariachi band in tow.
“Sneaky, sneaky does it,” I said lowly, creeping to the divider and pushing my face up to the slither of a crack to spy the entire calamity in the next room. My heart pounded in my chest; I felt like I was doing something wrong, something forbidden, that if I were to be caught it would mean almost certain death. Okay, perhaps a bit dramatic; still, the feeling was intense. My heart ached a little spotting the old familiar faces: Ringer cocked up at the bar, talking to Max who was enjoying a rare night off. I shifted around at an awkward angle to spy my ex, Stan, sitting at a small table near the door with his girlfriend, Bel, a pretty little slip of a thing that I kind of hated without any real reason. She was nice enough but still, her and Stan, just weird. I couldn’t quite see into the poolroom but I didn’t have to, I could hear Sean’s bellows from a mile away. As usual, talking trash and playing pool. Some things never changed. I wondered if that was where Adam was, in the poolroom having a quick game? Maybe he had hoped to ditch the dead weight in me and have some real fun. Maybe that’s why he wanted to load me up with beer in the hope I would pass out in the ladies’ toilets. My paranoia really knew no bounds, and if that was the case and he was in there living it up, I would be seriously pissed. I had all but convinced myself that was exactly where he was, unable to spot him amidst the sea of people. I was ready to rip open the divider and storm my way into the poolroom with dramatic flair. Then maybe people would turn their heads, mouths agape, and declare, “Ellie is back.” I was working myself up to do exactly that; Lord knows I had enough liquid courage in me to do it and regret it the next day. And just as I was about to step out of hiding, something stopped me. The crowd shifted; a small group broke away from the bar with their drinks heading toward the poolroom. I stilled, thinking I would wait for them to exit and make room for my grand entrance. But then, my eyes fixed onto the now-visible bar and froze, blinking once, twice.
Oh my God.
Adam’s laughter filled my senses, causing my blood to run cold as I took in the sight before me.
Adam was talking to a girl at the bar, but not just any girl, it was the ghost of girlfriends past:
Megsy Fucking Swanston.
Nine
The dreaded feeling of your world dropping away. In slow motion, your stomach plunges and your surroundings stand still. It was enough to have any girl running up to her room in sobs of despair, throwing herself onto her bed, and wailing about how life was unfair. Well, thing is, I wasn’t like most girls: I’ve known this for long enough because a) I had been told often enough and b) any reaction any normal girl was destined to have, well, I always seemed to do the polar opposite. Like letting my rage push me forward instead of back, quite literally, as I pulled the divider apart in dramatic flair, unveiling my existence to the entire front bar. Even though I was meant to be low-key to ensure a flawless surprise for Tess tomorrow night, I refused to be tucked away in a back bar somewhere.
“Heeey, look out, there goes the neighbourhood,” announced Ringer who spun around from the bar. Trust Ringer to always create a scene; we were usually vying for the limelight between us. I made a direct line to him, throwing my arms around him and only sensing Adam and Megsy’s eyes on me as they stood to my side.
“What’s a girl got to do to get a drink around here?”
“Ah, see, the calibre of service is nowhere near what it should be on my nights off,” said Max, leaning casually against the bar next to Ringer.
“I’m standing right here.”
Our attention turned to the voice from behind the bar, to Chris who stood there with his arms folded, a mock-serious stare on his face. If there was one thing that could be said for Chris of late, his new girlfriend Tammy had really taken the broody edge off him; he seemed more relaxed, more in touch with the lighter things in life.
Chris’s eyes shifted to me. “Squash on the rocks?” he asked with a little smile.
I laughed, scoffing at the absurdity of it all. “Carlton Draught.” My insides had recoiled earlier from the thought of another beer under the forced hand of Adam, but suddenly I felt like I had a second wind. It’s amazing how rage can sober you up, as I placed money into Chris’s hand in exchange for a frothy pot of liquid sin.
“Thanks,” I managed before sipping on the froth that always managed to tickle my nose.
“Bloody hell, look out. Ellie, the two-pot screamer, is into it,” said Stan, as he squeezed past me, setting his empty pot on the bar top. I glared at him. “Shut up, I am not.”
Stan’s brows rose, not retaliating, but as if to silently say, “Really, Ellie, REALLY?”
I summoned patience, as now was not the time to embarrass myself; now was the time to appear cool and one of the gang, not make out I drank lemonade and couldn’t handle my beer.
“I’m pretty sure we’ve all held your hair back at one point or another,” added Ringer rather unhelpfully. “I know I have.” He saluted me with his beer and added a cheeky wink.
It was the usual Onslow Boy banter that had me feeling like I had never been away: the same old faces, the same old voices; well, except one. One very noticeable presence that I was very aware of was standing in my peripheral vision and then, of course, the thing I dreaded the most happened.
“Ellie, you remember Megsy?” Adam’s voice sliced through my body like iced water.
I turned toward them as if seeing them for the first time, my eyes lifting in mock surprise.
