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“Daisy, they only have to look at that glow on your face and the sparkle in your eyes to know what we’ve been doing, whether I’m with you or not.” Heat crept into her cheeks like it always did when I called her out on something of a sexual nature. I chuckled. “Alright, give me five and I’ll be ready. Meanwhile, make me a bacon sandwich to go from all that food under those platters. I’ve got a feeling Barney’s going to be put to work when we get back to the pub.”
Chapter 12
“Wow, you look like you’ve had a night of it,” Terry remarked to Daisy the minute she walked through the door.
Daisy shot him a glare. “And you don’t,” she shot straight back. “What happened, did all your fuck buddies desert you on Christmas Day?” she retorted.
Terry chuckled at her sassy come back and I felt proud of her that she hadn’t allowed him to undermine our time spent together.
“They did, at first, but by seven last night my cell was vibrating nonstop. I guess there’s only so much family festive fun a girl can take before they need some real excitement.”
“They?” I asked, my eyebrow raised, interest piqued.
“Okay, now we know we’ve all been laid, have the lunchtime tables been laid as well? Remind me how many covers we have for lunch,” Daisy asked, cutting in with a new level of sass and changing the direction of the conversation.
“Yep even the tables got laid last night,” Terry replied with a chuckle. “We have bookings for three tables of four, one of eight and that big one for fourteen,” Terry rhymed off. “Maria and Frances are coming in, right?” he queried, pulling an empty vodka bottle down from the optic stand in front of the mirrored bar wall.
“Yeah they should be here just before noon. They won’t start until the first lunch table sits down though. I’m not paying double time for them to stand around making the bar look pretty.”
“Ah, you’re a hard woman, Daisy O’Donnell,” I joked, “I thought it was the Scots that were tight,” I said.
“That’s a myth. The Scots are canny people, but I’ve never met one that wouldn’t have given you the shirt off his back. And I’m not being tight, I’m being fiscal. This is a business, margins always need to be tightened, and I have to account for every last drop of drink and food we sell.”
“Right, and me working for nothing, how does that fit into your business model?”
“Call it free training. I’m not charging you for letting you roam around my pub picking up glasses. Look what you’ve learned since you’ve been here. You know how to work the ice and glass cleaning machines, the dish washer in the kitchen, how to set a table and where the laundry bags are.”
“Think of how much more I’d have known had I come into that role at eighteen instead of wasting my time on pipedreams of being a musician,” I replied.
“Smart ass,” Daisy chuckled. “Right, Barney, best you get into character. You can start by bringing those crates of soft drinks bottles from the cellar. Then you can replenish that cold bottle cabinet over there.”
For some reason I’d imagined a lull in trade in the days after Christmas, but it had appeared as if everyone and their dogs had deserted their families in favor of a pint in The Lucky Shamrock pub. Every one of us were run off our feet and we never caught a break all day long during the following four days.
As this pattern of events continued on the lead up to New Year’s Eve, with me helping Daisy day to day, I scarcely saw my sister and the boys, but they’d been kept busy with various sight-seeing trips anyway.
The day before New Year’s Eve, Daisy had engaged the same manager she’d used before to claw back another day off with me. By then we were tired and frustrated that time was running out for us again, but at least we had one day together to catch our breath before the New Year’s Eve ceilidh.
“Only three more hours, then we have a whole twenty four off,” I muttered into Daisy’s ear, making her shiver, before I bumped hips with her and headed for another round of glass collecting at the tables.” Daisy smiled and I watched her until it wasn’t safe to not look where I was headed and reluctantly turned away.
“Oh, my, God,” a strong Boston accent ground out, interrupting my thoughts as I rounded the counter to pick up some of the glasses which had built up on the table.
“Excuse me?” I asked, blinking innocently at the red headed girl, but I knew straight away I’d seen her somewhere before, and my gut sank because the moment I saw her face, I realized she knew exactly who I was.
“Jamie Fontaine?” she asked, then squealed. “I can’t believe this,” she stated, as her body shook uncontrollably, and I racked my brain as to how I knew her.
Averting my eyes, I shook my head as I wasn’t confident to talk for fear of being challenged farther. With brows furrowed in my best confused look, I began walking away, but she grabbed me by the crook of my arm and pulled me back.
“That’s rich,” she said with a glare. “Are you really going to pretend we don’t know one another?”
Stealing another quick glance at her before looking over in Daisy’s direction, my heart sank when a vague memory grew in my mind. Reality dawned when an incident came rushing back of a night I’d spent with a freakish redhead, in a plush hotel in Massachusetts, a few short months before I’d met Daisy.
What were the fucking chances? Why does shit like this only happen to me?
“I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong person,” I replied, laying on my best Canadian accent and mentally quoting the mantra my legal team had once told me.
Deny, deny, deny.
My eyes darted to Daisy and I pleaded with God to make the woman in front of me disappear.
