She sighed. “Are you angry that I didn’t declare it on the form I filled in?”
I blinked. “Well, I can understand not wanting to –”
“I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to work on the boat and I really need the money.” My eyebrows went up. Yes, there was a section on the paperwork about drugs and alcohol. Did she think I was only cross because she hadn’t been honest on a bloody bit of paperwork? “Look, I’m getting it under control. I just need a bit more time during the day while I’m here. Longer breaks would be a good – ”
“The last thing you need is longer breaks,” I said, cutting her off. Was she crazy? More time to sneak off to the toilets and throw up or shoot up?
“Er . . . yes, yes I do, or at least I need actual proper breaks. It’s not really safe for me to –”
“Look, you’ll be fine.” I knew for a fact that withdrawal from drugs, whilst unpleasant was not dangerous. Maybe being on the boat was a good thing. Maybe if she was kept busy enough she could detox in peace. Like some sort of enforced rehab. She frowned at me.
“How much do you actually know about dia – ”
“I’m not in the habit of scraping every irresponsible teenager off the street and sorting them out on my boat if that’s what you think.”
“Hey! I’m not irresponsible – it’s bloody difficult to deal with if you must know.”
“I’m not saying it’s not difficult but –”
“And I’m not a teenager, you cheeky sod,” she muttered.
“You’re not?” I was annoyed that my ears pricked up so much at that statement. She may not have been a teenager, but she was still a drug addict with an eating disorder – not exactly the kind of woman I needed to be pursuing.
“I’m twenty-three. Not that it’s any of your business,” she jumped up then and let my coat fall off onto the seat. “Look, you know what? I’ve had enough of this little chat. I just want to get through this week and get paid so that I canfinallysort myself out. If I didn’t need the money I’d tell you and your boat to go fuck yourselves. As it is I’m stuck here.” Her eyes filled with moisture and I felt my chest tighten. “I thought . . .” she sniffed and took a deep breath, blinking rapidly to force the tears away. “I thought you were different. I thought you were a decent bloke. When I spoke to you in the bar that time . . .” she trailed off and scrubbed away a tear from her face with an angry swipe. “Well, that doesn’t matter anymore. I know what kind of man you are now.”
*****
Urvi
“There’s a problem andyouare going to solve it,” Kira told me with a cheeky smile on her face.
“What are you on about, Kira?” I asked as I arranged more weird and wonderful canapés on trays. Rich people sure liked gross food – the smell of these fish eggs was enough to make me want to barf. I couldn’t imagine putting them in my mouth. Where were the sausage rolls?
“You’re going to sing!” Kira stood back and threw her arms out wide, a huge smile on her face.
I rolled my eyes. “Will you shut up and help me with these, loser.”
“Hey, stop mucking around with that fishy crap and listen,” she said, grabbing my wrists and sending a couple of fish egg covered mini pancakes flying across the kitchen. “There’s recordy type peeps out there. I know cause I’ve been listening all night. You said you want to sell your compositions? Well, here’s your chance.”
“I’m not going to go in there and start singing like a crazy person, Kira.”
“They had a band booked for tonight. One of those Nora Jonesy type deals. Totally up your street. Not drum and bass or anything. But they’re stuck in an airport somewhere on the other side of the channel so there’s nobody to do it. I told one of the executive types about you and how you’re a music scholar at the Royal Academy and he was all over it.”
“He was?”
“Er . . .yeah,sure.”
“Kira, if this is bullshit then I’m – ”
“Go and get changed out of your god-awful uniform, put some makeup on, wear my top I left on the bed for you with your jeans, and none of the guests will be any the wiser.”
I sighed and then bit my lip. What if Iwasthrowing away an opportunity? I couldn’t afford to do that. Nobody who hoped to make it in the music industry could.
Jack
“Is this thing on?” a female voice echoed through the salon and I turned to see the pink-haired girl tapping on the microphone and deafening us all. She beamed as the room fell silent.
“Well helllooo ad-type people! I hate to interrupt your wheeler-dealering but I think you’ll bow down and thank me in the end. I give you music scholar and up-and-coming singer-songwriter - the beautiful Miss Urvi Radia.”
