Just Human (2 page)

I glance at Max fondly, but he doesn’t see. We eat in silence until Ali comes over with some juice. Apple juice for me and orange juice for Max. She knows I can’t stand orange juice.

"Shall I get you another coffee?" she asks looking nervously back and forth between us, trying to assess the mood. Obviously news has travelled that I had a heavy night and Max is not amused, brilliant.

"Please Ali, and you'd better bring one for Mr. Grumpy Pants here too."

I turn to face Max and he shakes his head in amusement at me.

"So, how are you feeling this morning?" he finally says.

"Like I should. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have put you in that position, it won't happen again."

He takes my hand from across the table and gives it a squeeze.

"I just don't want you to be someone you are not," he frowns. "And I don't think it’s a great idea to get so bombed in front of the staff." He shakes his head in disgust, although I can see the smile he is suppressing, playing on his lips. "Charlie had to carry you up to bed!"

"Don't laugh at me!" I pout, screwing up my napkin and hurling it at his head.

He ducks to the left and avoids the missile, laughing as he does.

"What? I’m just saying Charlie had to take your jeans off, he’s traumatised!"

I wince at the memory. I was on a mission last night, trying to get the attention of this guy Will, who has been hanging around a lot recently. I know he’s been flirting with me and I’ve been flirting back. I’m just not very good at the transition to the next bit. So, after too much Dutch courage, I think I made quite an exhibition of myself. There was dancing, I remember that, although I wish I didn’t. I bumped into a table and knocked over some drinks. I think Max replaced them. He told me to go and get some fresh air.

Will followed me out into the garden and was more confident about taking the next step than me. He started kissing me. I remember thinking he was being a bit over the top, considering we were in public. But I reasoned that we saw this stuff all the time here and frankly, in my drunken state, I was quite pleased with myself.

Along with the customers in the garden, the doormen were treated to our little show and were in the awkward position of having to ask Max what to do. Ordinarily, in situations like this, they would allow things to go to a certain point and then they might ask the lovebirds to cool things down. They might even ask them to leave if they got out of hand. But as it was me, their boss, I don’t think they knew how to handle it.

I shouldn’t have put them or Max in that position. What I didn’t stop to consider was that I’m the owner of this place and I owe it to my staff and myself to conduct myself in an appropriate manner. Something Max was quick to remind me once he had broken up our little tryst and hauled me into the privacy of the kitchen. He was pretty mad, but I was so drunk he wasn’t getting anywhere. The bar was busy and he was needed, so he got Charlie to put me to bed. Poor Charlie! I’m mortified. I owe a few apologies.

“I’m really sorry, but can we please try and forget about it, it’s mortifying.”

"If only it were that easy for Charlie!" Max smirks as he wisely scurries away.

I sink my face into my hands and sigh. I’m never drinking again. All this hassle and I didn't even get lucky! Max comes back and I draw in a deep breath, rubbing my temples and lift my head for round two…and I’m looking straight into the hard disapproving eyes of Connie. Shit.

Connie is my great aunt, my maternal grandma’s younger sister and since my grandma died long before I was born, she just naturally filled her role. When I was born and she came to see me in the hospital. Mum said it was like we were old friends, like I was born with a connection to her. That day, on her way home, Connie met her second husband, Jack. She couldn’t believe her luck at finding such a lovely man out of the blue. She said I was her lucky charm. Connie and Jack married three months later and have been giddy with happiness ever since. It’s still a little embarrassing sometimes to witness them together, but it keeps them young.

This morning, however, she looks stern. She flicks her eyebrows even higher and tilts her head before she starts.

"So, I hear we had an indulgent evening," she pauses, concern replacing disapproval. "What is this all about?"

"Connie, I just had a drink that’s all. I admit I got a bit out of hand but it wasn’t a real drama. Did
he
call you?" I glare at Max who is pretending to be busy behind the counter. I’ll remember this.

"Sweetheart, I am worried about you. Is this because of Mark?"

Oh God, here we go, I’ll be upstairs in my PJs, eating ice cream from the tub in five minutes if she has her way. I wish she could just accept that I’m not that sad about losing Mark, I’m just pissed off about what he did and how much of my time he wasted.

"Mark? No! I’m just enjoying myself."

"Darling, this isn't you. I…we, think you should talk about what’s bothering you."

I shoot Max another look. Honestly, involving Connie is the lowest of the low. I don't need a pep talk, I need a good time! Why is this so difficult for people to accept?

Ah! This is so frustrating. I can talk to Connie about anything, but I can't admit to her that I’m trying to turn myself into more of a slut. Deep down, I know it is not right for me and if I can't convince myself, I won't be able to convince her. I do my best.

"I just want what everyone else seems to have. No strings fun. I guess I'm just missing the gene. I thought I could loosen up if I got a bit drunk, evidently it’s a difficult balance.”

"So this is about sex?"

"Well, yeah. I don't know how to have it without ending up in another relationship.”

“Why don’t you want another relationship?”

“Well for starters, I’m just out of one. Don’t you think it would do me good to play the field for a while? I’ve never done that you know. I’ve gone from one long-term relationship to another. Four men…my whole life!” I raise my eyebrows. “I’m twenty-nine, people my age settle down, but I’ve always been settled down and look where it’s got me. I want something else for a change. But I can’t do it, is there something wrong with me?"

"No, of course there isn't, you’re just an old romantic. You always need the happy ending. You can't pretend that you would be happy with one night stand after one night stand. You need to be invested in someone to get that far. I respect that about you, you should too.”

"Huh! 'The happy ending' I never get it though, do I?" I scoff.

"You will, one day. But for now just relax, you can't force happiness and besides, from what I hear, you weren't at your most alluring last night, even if Prince Charming had come your way. Be yourself, you’ll find someone wonderful. Anyway, there’s no hurry and it’s never too late, just look at me."

"But I really wanted to have some, you know, new experiences," I cringe, it turns out this is a little awkward to talk about with Connie.

"Well then, you'll just have to get yourself one of those friends with benefits." She winks and beams at me.

"CONNIE! What do you know about that?" Sometimes I really can't believe her; she is so cool, for almost seventy. But really, there are some conversations I should have with someone my own age.

"I know plenty. You kids think you wrote the book, honestly!"

She really is amazing. She never disapproves of younger generations, something older people so often do. She always admires new ideas and innovations; she enjoys new music, films and books. She is just cool.

"Do you have time to help me with something?"

"Anything," I smile. The lecture is over, for now.

"Well I want you to show me how to do this Facebook thingy."

Connie on Facebook, I shake my head with amusement.

"Come on then," and I shift over so that she can join me on my side of the booth. This should be fun!

An hour later, I’m feeling a bit more human. We’ve had such a laugh setting Connie up on Facebook and adding photos. She’s now fully tagged in the photos on the Lady Luck's page. She has six friends and is awaiting responses from eighteen others. As I think we are wrapping up, she asks again, "So if I want to find someone, I just type their name up here and if they are on Facebook, they will be in the list?"

"Yes, that’s right, who do you want to find? I'll help you."

"No one right now, but I want to know how in case I think of someone later. It won't do to only have six friends!" She frowns for a second. “Can you show me how to do that private message thing again?”

I smile lovingly and roll my eyes as I launch into the whole process again. This will take a while to stick, I know. But for Connie, I have all the time in the world.

I wander into the kitchen. I really should do something productive, so I set up to make some rhubarb syrup. This is the thing I am most proud of about Lady Luck’s, our sodas. We make from scratch over twenty-five fruit-flavoured syrups along with some herb and spice flavours and serve them in any combination mixed with seltzer from traditional swan-necked soda pumps. The official name for a person who performs this task is a Jerk. We have embraced this term at Lady Luck's and while every other so/so place in town has baristas or barmen, we’re proud to be Jerks.

Then there are our milkshakes and malts, the menu is huge and everything is scratch made. I’m so passionate about it. I cannot stress how fantastic our team is. My team. I say 'our' because we’re a family, but in reality it
is
mine, I’m blown away by that sometimes. I employ twenty-three people…okay, that scares me! But I’ve had so much great help and advice it has seemed reasonably easy. I no longer think of it as something that was handed to me on a plate. What I’ve now is a far cry from what Connie gave me; I genuinely feel that the success is deserved.

Five years ago, when I took over from Connie, I was able to finance the basic renovations. Everything else has been achieved over time. We took the whole place back to brick and then left some of it exposed. We completely transformed the place from Connie’s – a quaint but very successful Surrey teashop – into Lady Luck’s, an authentic American Diner. It has an industrial feel; a lot of the furniture is reclaimed. The walls are littered with vintage signs and Americana. It’s a work in progress, but the fact that it evolves rather than having a complete and polished appearance makes it really homely.

I don't think it’s big headed to say I’ve really made a success of it. Lady Luck's is buzzing; it's a popular place. It is everything I dreamed it would be. Great food and traditional beverages, done with a modern twist. Then, last year, I took it a step further when the Italian restaurant next door closed down. I took over the lease and opened a bar. My dream come true.

Max manages the bar for me; he’s the best friend a girl could have. We were on the same course at uni and hit it off instantly, he’s so much fun. I really fancied him at first, but then he told me he was gay so I got over it. He moved in with me not long into the first term. Connie had let me move into the empty flat upstairs and I was really grateful for the company. Having my own place seemed exciting, but it was a bit overwhelming and I was lonely. He helped with the bills and we looked after each other, grew up together. He still looks after me, although these days he lives with his husband, Charlie.

He was the perfect flat mate; I even got Connie to give him a job. Since we graduated, Max and I have never been apart. He’s my right-hand man. He helped me get the diner off the ground, then the bar and I couldn’t be without him. We are a great team, even if he can be a bit bossy and judgemental sometimes. He’s helped me through the worst times and we have shared all the best times too. I love him.

Connie squeezes my shoulder as she comes to get her cupcakes out of the oven. She does know she doesn't work here anymore – I don't pay her. I pay an Executive Chef, a Sous Chef and five Line Cooks, one of whom has sole responsibility for desserts. But Connie's baking is second to none, so she remains the Pastry Chef at this address in an unofficial capacity. She has been on bloody Facebook on and off for two hours! I’m surprised she can tear herself away. She seems cheerful today, a bit too cheerful; maybe it’s the spring air. I hope so, after such a depressing winter I really want to get our outside area looking fabulous.

Last year, when I took over the bar, we acquired a disused alleyway in between the old Italian and the diner. It was blocked off at the front by an old rusty gate and was just used as a dumping ground for broken furniture. It is quite wide as alleyways go, about twelve feet. At the bottom it opens out onto the delivery yard at the back. Max had the idea of turning it into a garden of sorts and in the end this saved our almost doomed application to the council. Apparently there was an issue with smokers causing noise when standing outside bars, so the fact that we had an enclosed area went in our favour and we were approved. We’ve closed off the front entrance to the bar and opened the front of the alley up. Now you have to turn down the alley, past the doormen to get into the bar. This keeps any trouble off the street, not that we have any. But it means the neighbours actually like us, a rarity I'm sure.

We’ve put some chairs and tables down one side and sectioned off some of the yard at the end to extend it a bit. Right now, it’s a perfectly acceptable smoking area, but I have plans to make it a big draw to the bar over the summer…outdoor furniture, lighting, heaters, the lot. It might even be possible to connect the diner with the bar, we'll see. For now, we’re using the kitchen in the bar for prep and bar snacks and the diner kitchen for meals. Food ordered in the bar is carried across at the moment, under a covered walkway, but I would love to end up with one big kitchen. There’s so much to do.

My hangover, briefly sent packing by a Grand Slam Breakfast is getting its second wind and, as I am working tonight, I decide to go and put my head down for a bit. I take my freshly jerked soda, mango, my favourite, punch the code into the keypad and amble up the stairs to my flat. I really need to clean. Since Mark went, I’ve done nothing. I’m not miserable about being here on my own; I’m just in a bit of limbo about what to do next.