AllFreeNovel
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I manage a bar in swanky Knightsbridge; one of the only places in London where you need an appointment just to get an overpriced cocktail. I love working here, even if my salary barely pays the bills.
This place sells cocktails starting from £25, and our cheapest bottle of wine is £85, the most expensive being £300. People seriously have more money than sense.
The bar is small but has several rooms that lead into one another. You can taste wine and bourbon. Have an overpriced meal in the quaint little restaurant — the overhead chandelier is rumoured to have cost more than an apartment in Mayfair — The mirrored bar is eclectic with its dark furnishings, heavy curtains and brass light fixtures. Yet, the place screams elegance and class.
I couldn’t afford to eat or drink here.
I may have grown up rich, but money swiftly dwindled by the time I was fourteen. I moved back to Australia to live with my grandmother. Alistair never once contacted me after my grandmother insisted I come to live with her. He never fought for me, not that I’d wanted him to. Or maybe I did. Maybe deep down this is why I’m the way I am; a drifter. Never being able to settle anywhere. My fear of rejection is well hidden behind my ability to make people laugh. I’m always the life of the party. I’ve had to be, in order to compartmentalise all the shit that happened in my childhood.
A shiver goes through me when I think about the last time I saw Alistair. It was after the funeral. He was arguing with my grandmother, telling her she wasn’t taking me back to Australia. I guess he must’ve lucked out, because that’s exactly where I ended up. I’m sure he was just confusing his emotions about my mum with actually caring.
I didn’t see a penny of my mother’s fortune — other than to fund college on an exchange program in the US —because my grandmother kept all of it. Not that I’d wanted to profiteer off my mum’s death, but I often wonder where all the money went. My grandmother disapproved of me moving to the US; she also cut me off the second my tuition was over. It didn’t matter that I had amazing grades, graduating with a degree in hospitality management. That wasn’t the type of job somebody in the Prescott family should be doing. If she had her way, she’d have married me off to the first available rich suitor the second after graduation.
Then she died a few years later.
I go through a range of emotions while my back is turned to Neve. Plastering my smile back on, I place her drink on the top of the bar and she beams gratefully when I add it to her tab.
“Quiet tonight?” Our eyes meet as I look up from the screen. Neve’s dressed impeccably in a black and silver shiny dress, heels and a diamond necklace that sparkles under the downlights. Her hair is styled exactly like Marilyn Monroe, except her hair colour is more like honey, not blonde. She’s stunning.
“Yeah, mid-week always is.” I get the feeling she wants to talk, so I add, “Who’s the lucky man tonight?”
A small smile creeps across her face. “I’ve never met him before, actually.” She has one of those posh British accents, like Lady Diana.
I purse my lips. “Ooh, a blind date?”
“Something like that.”
“Well, he’s a lucky guy,” I say. “I find meeting men in this town extremely difficult. They’re either a workaholic, married, gay or expect the whole hog on the first date.”
She laughs, screwing her nose up. “What’s ‘the whole hog’ mean? One of your Aussie slang words?”
We’ve often joked about my accent and the words I come out with that people don’t understand.
“Sorry,” I laugh. “It just means they expect everything.”
“Maybe you’re looking in all the wrong places,” she suggests. “A knockout like you would have every man’s eyes in the room on you. It’s my job to know these things.”
Her job?
I mean, it isn’t as if I don’t get hit on. I do. Even here. Especially here. I’m tall, for one, have olive skin and long sandy blonde hair that men seem to love. I have no curves, and even though I eat like a horse, I’m slim and have small boobs.
“I wish. I don’t think the men in this town can understand me. Or they don’t like my jokes. I’ve also been told I’m too tall and it’s intimidating when the dude is shorter than you.”
Neve makes wide eyes. “That is a terrible thing for a man to say.”
“Dodged a bullet there,” I agree. I start to clean the bar, starting with wiping the bench. There’s only a dozen or so patrons so far, and I’m managing by myself until nine.
“Well, I think you’re very funny, Charli. Tallness is a virtue, and he was probably just a jealous ass. Any self-appreciating man should think himself lucky to be in your presence.”
Hearing her say the word ass in her posh accent makes me giggle. I lower my voice. “If you know any potential suitors that aren’t dickheads and assholes, feel free to send them my way.”
She studies me for a moment, her mouth opening then closing, like she wants to say something. Eventually, she does; “Do you mind if I ask you something personal?”
Uh, oh.
I mean, she’s pretty and has nice hair and all, but I’m not into chicks in that way.
“Not at all,” I lie, picking up a glass to polish it.
