Текст книги "The Haunted Pub"

Автор книги: Melanie Tushmore

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There was a clash of emotions on Ginger’s face. For a brief moment, Fizz thought his cousin was

going to smile, but the frown won out.

Luckily, Ryan reappeared. He was holding an empty bowl, and greeted Ginger like nothing was

amiss. “Hey, I was just coming back downstairs. Ash brought pudding and there’s enough for us.”

Ginger’s frown intensified even more. Fizz was so embarrassed. Was he going to be marched to his

room, in front of Ash? Would Ginger drag Ash away by his ear? Ginger may not have been a big man

like Pete or Matt, but he was no less imposing.

“Look, I’m not sure–” Ginger started to say, but then Fizz saw something he hadn’t expected.

Something that confirmed what Ash had said before. Ryan placed his hand on Ginger’s arm, and

looked him in the eyes.

“Daniel,” Ryan said quietly. “It’s fine.”

Ginger looked surprised, but he didn’t say any more. Fizz was amazed. With Ginger placated, Ryan

quickly swooped in and grabbed handfuls of strange, exotic treats. Fizz had to admire his

determination. Then Ryan strode back to the door. He guided Ginger away, smiling over his shoulder

before shutting the door.

Fizz blinked, then looked at Ash.

Ash looked back at him, just as confused. Suddenly, he snorted with laughter, covering his mouth in

an attempt to stifle it. Once he got his giggles under control, he whispered, “See what I mean?”

“Yeah,” Fizz whispered back. “That was...” He shook his head. “Really weird. Do you think they’re

gone?”

“Let’s see.” Ash put the DVDs down and got to his feet. In exaggerated creeping moves, he tip-toed

to the door. Fizz had to cover his mouth for fear of laughing. Ash peeped out into the hall, then he

disappeared, presumably to peer over the bannister. A moment later, he returned and shut the door.

“It’s okay, they’re gone. Hah! That was hilarious.”

“I’m so sorry.” Fizz tried to apologise. “It’s not you, it’s me. He – I mean, Dan –”

“Hey, no worries.” Ash waved a hand. “It’s the perfect lead into Koi Kahe Kehte Rahe.”

Fizz stared blankly, utterly confused. “Huh?”

“It’s a song, and a scene in a movie I want to show you. It’s probably my favourite song in the

world. But first,” he declared with a smile, “let’s eat pudding. I have a very sweet tooth, and it’s

demanding attention.”

Ash fetched plates and forks from the kitchen. He borrowed the pillows from Ryan’s bed, leaning

them up against the bed’s side. “I prefer sitting on floors,” Ash explained, as he did just that. Fizz

nodded his agreement. He wasn’t about to suggest that they get on the bed. Not in this lifetime. He sat

next to Ash on the floor, and willed himself not to blush.

Ash displayed his different boxes of miniature puddings in front of them. “Here you go. And don’t

worry if you don’t like ‘em, that just leaves more for me!”

Fizz gazed at the colourful, diamond-shaped sweets and the round, syrupy balls. He had no idea

what they would taste like. Ash handed him a plate, then suddenly he was on his feet again. “Fizz, do

me a favour and whack on that lamp?”

Fizz glanced to where Ash pointed; Ryan’s bedside table. He reached over, clicking on the small

lamp there. Ash stood by the light switch at the door. With the lamp now on, he turned off the main

light, plunging the room into softer shades.

“This is better for watching movies.” Ash hurried back, crouching in front of the TV as he switched

it on, and inserted a DVD. When he sat back down next to Fizz, it was definitely a fraction closer than

he’d been before. Fizz felt acutely aware of the situation. Even though he’d tried to get across this was

a friends only thing, it sure didn’t feel like it. This felt more like a date. Not that he had any

comparison on that, but...

It felt nice.

The DVD ran through its title menus. Ash piled sweets onto his own plate, and Fizz’s, pointing to

each one and telling Fizz what they were. “Do you want to try kulfi too? It’s like very milky ice cream,

with fruit.”

Fizz wasn’t sure. He’d wanted to be vegan, but he didn’t want to disappoint Ash. “Um, okay.”

The smile Ash gave him was worth the momentary lapse, Fizz decided. He tried burfi too, the

colourful, diamond shaped sweets, as Ash said they were like fudge, and laddu, which looked like

fluffy, round snowballs. He’d worried that he wouldn’t like them, but they tasted absolutely fine.

Better than fine. Amazing.

“Like it?” Ash asked.

Fizz nodded, swallowing yet another mouthful of sweet, syrupy goodness. “It’s great.”

“My sisters made all this.”

“You live together?”

“Yeah...well, I say my sisters. One is my sister-in-law. She’s married to my brother. He’s the

eldest, then my sister, then me.” Ash picked up the remote control and selected through the film menu.

“Now, to give you an idea of Bollywood, I’m just gonna cut to a scene from Dil Chahta Hai. This was

my mum’s favourite film, by the way.”

“Oh.” Fizz bit his lip, his eyes burned suddenly with the threat of tears. “Don’t you...I mean, are

you sure you want to watch it?”

Ash glanced at him, looking into his eyes. Fizz wondered if a note of understanding passed between

them, or if he was just imagining things.

“It’s fine.” Ash looked back at the TV. He was skipping through the film’s scenes, obviously

hurrying to the bit he wanted. “We’re only going to watch one song. I’m not so keen on these types of

films, it’s one of those romantic tragedies. Women love it, but I’m in the mood for mindless action,

and less plot.”

Fizz was secretly relieved. Tragedies weren’t his strong point.

“This is the best song ever, though.” Ash pressed play. The film burst to life with a young Indian

man in a modern, flashy night club. He sang right at the camera with a strong, confident voice. “This

is Koi Kahe Kehte Rahe,” Ash explained. “I haven’t put the subtitles on; see if you can guess what

they’re singing about.”

Fizz blinked in surprise, then stared back at the screen. Now three young men – all of them Indian –

were singing and dancing, with the whole club dancing in sync behind them. Everyone was smiling.

Everyone was Indian. Fizz realised he’d never, ever seen anything like this before.

“Check out those metallic trousers!” Ash pointed with his ice cream-covered spoon. “The guy on

the left is pretty hot, huh?”

Fizz’s face heated with a flush. He hoped Ash didn’t notice in the low light. Fizz concentrated on

the TV, on the three men now dancing around each other, and making it look easy. What was it about?

Well, they were obviously young men, dancing in a club. They weren’t gay, were they? No, Fizz

decided. They danced with women. This was obviously a friendship or camaraderie thing, like The

Three Musketeers, perhaps. The song was jovial, bouncy, their voices and strange words were melodic

and rich.

Fizz glanced at Ash. “Um, they’re friends?”

Ash grinned at him. “Yep. And?”

“Maybe...they’re having a good time?”

“Right again. See? You don’t need subtitles.”

The song was over all too quickly, and Ash changed the DVD. He held up two new cases which

looked decidedly like movies a boy would pick. The covers showed motorbikes, and people pointing

guns.

“Now, we can watch this.” Ash waggled the first case. “This is Dhoom. Then we can watch Dhoom

2.” He waved the second case. “Which is really the best film overall, but Dhoom has the most

awesome song in it, and is a good lead to the sequel.”

“Uh...sure,” Fizz agreed. “There aren’t any...horror bits, are there?”

“What do you mean?”

Fizz felt so lame for asking. “I mean, I – I don’t...I can’t watch some stuff.” He winced at himself.

“You mean like, scary or sad?” Ash guessed.

“Yeah, pretty much. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not really into horror myself. Honestly, the only thing that’s scary about these

films is some of the dancing.”

A smile tugged at Fizz’s mouth. “Um...okay.”

Ash started the first DVD. Fizz’s curiosity at watching a different kind of movie managed to keep

most of his nerves at bay. It was so strange; like a normal action movie, but everyone was Indian, and

of course, they weren’t speaking English. The subtitles flashed up, and Fizz found himself reading

along without even thinking about it.

“It’s kinda like a Hindi James Bond,” Ash said, during the opening scene. “You like James Bond?”

Fizz wasn’t used to watching TV and talking at the same time. Especially when he had to read

subtitles. “Um...I saw one Bond film when I was younger, but I didn’t like it.”

“How come?” Ash seemed happy to talk over the movie. Fizz supposed these scenes were mostly

action anyway, with the detectives zipping around on motorbikes in pursuit of a thief.

“Um...I don’t remember which one it was,” Fizz explained. “But Bond’s girlfriend got poisoned

while they slept, and after being sad for like, five minutes, he chose a new girlfriend, just like that.

Forgot about the other girl completely.” Fizz frowned at the TV, trying to blot the memories from his

mind. He didn’t remember how young he’d been when he happened to watch that movie with his

brother. He barely remembered the rest of the movie, just that one scene with the woman dying slowly

from poison.

Horrible.

Ash cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, Bond’s a knob, right? I promise you, no one gets poisoned in

this. There might be a couple of fights, but they’re mostly kinda funny, and I’ll fast forward those bits,

okay?”

Fizz swallowed. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Don’t worry.” Ash smiled at him. “I’ve seen this a gazillion times. I got you covered.”

As the movie unfolded, and Ash pointed things out, making passing comments, Fizz found himself

smiling, and even laughing in places. He was intrigued by the seemingly random phrases of English

peppered throughout the dialogue.

“They say some English words?” he asked.

“Yeah, that’s normal. Especially in modern Bollywood. There’s a lot of British used in the

everyday language.”

“Have you been to India?”

“Only a couple of times,” Ash said. “Most of Dad’s family wouldn’t talk to us because of Mum.

Then she got ill and... Well, we haven’t been over there in years.”

Fizz bit his lip. He felt awful for unwittingly bringing up the subject of Ash’s mother. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Ash looked at him but Fizz couldn’t meet his eyes.

“I don’t mean to keep... I’m so sorry.”

“I know, Fizz.” Ash’s hand found his on the floor and squeezed. It was only a brief moment of

touching, yet it sent a burning flush through Fizz’s body. Ash moved his hand away, but Fizz was still

thinking about that touch long after it had happened.

The movie was over before he realised. Fizz only tuned back in when, true to his word, Ash fast

forwarded through the final fight scene, and the thief’s dramatic yet untimely demise. Fizz was

grateful for not having to sit through it, yet it was so over the top he didn’t mind too much. Ash

promised that Dhoom 2 had a much happier ending, if Fizz wanted to watch it. He looked so hopeful,

that Fizz didn’t want to say no. It was only half past nine, anyway. Ginger and the others would be

occupied until at least one in the morning.

As the sequel started, Ash pointed out the new lead male. “That’s Hrithik Roshan,” he said. “I was

about fifteen when this first came out, and he was my first male crush.”

Fizz felt that same burning sensation under his skin, and in the pit of his stomach. He tried to ignore

it and concentrate on the movie. The lead male was indeed very handsome. In the opening scene, he

was dancing and singing – in English – with a backing cast of men and women. It didn’t make a

whole lot of sense, Fizz thought, but it looked fun.

“What’s the chorus bit?” he asked, wondering at the only Indian words being used.

“Dhoom Machale.”

“What’s it mean?”

Ash chuckled. “Like, pump it up, or have fun.”

Fizz watched the dancers thrust their hips suggestively. “Oh, right.”

“This film has a lot more English in it,” Ash said easily. “Especially the songs. I prefer them in

Hindi, but I guess they want to appeal to the Western market these days.”

Fizz nodded absently, still entranced by the dancing. “You know, this series is pretty popular.

Dhoom 3 is coming out soon.”

“You going to see it?”

“Yeah, for sure!” Ash laughed. “I’ll be dancing in the aisles.”

Fizz smiled at the image that put in his head. “You like dancing?”

“Who doesn’t?”

Me, Fizz thought. Although, after watching the actors dance in these films, he had to admit it

looked fun. He was sure he’d never be able to do it.

Ash cleared away the remaining sweets, and set their plates to one side. He stretched his legs out on

the floor. Fizz watched the action, thinking to himself how long Ash’s legs were. Then he realised

what he was staring, and quickly tore his eyes away.

Fizz shifted his position, hugging his knees to himself. He didn’t usually fidget so much, but

tonight he shuffled and fidgeted more than ever. Ash put him on edge. He worried – hoped – that, at

some point, Ash would touch him again. He was even more worried that Ash wouldn’t want to touch

him.

This so isn’t a good idea, he told himself.

The panicked thoughts rose and fell in his mind, washing in and out. Fizz had never felt so torn in

two. He almost expected the voice to start speaking to him, urge him to stay calm, except he didn’t

hear it.

Fizz realised that he hadn’t heard the voice the entire time he’d been in Ryan’s room, nor felt the

icy tingle on his neck. Maybe that was a good thing, he decided. Another reason to stay where he was.

Halfway through the movie, the door burst open, making them both jump in surprise. Ginger stuck

his head in and fixed them with a look.

“Do you guys need a drink or something?” His tone, and the frown he directed at Ash clearly stated:

I’m watching you.

Ash smiled at him, like butter wouldn’t melt. “No, I think we’re good, thanks. How was the mithai?

“Yeah, fine,” Ginger mumbled. “Fizz, do you need anything?”

Fizz was currently dying from embarrassment, yet again. “Um, no, thank you.”

After a prolonged silence, Ginger left again.

Ash snickered into his hand. Fizz was instantly relieved, then starting worrying about the fact that

he wanted to be alone with Ash. Looking over at their finished plates and the decimated puddings,

Fizz wondered if this was their second date. Ash had already cooked him dinner once, and now they

were watching movies. This was a date, right? What were they doing, exactly?

And, more importantly, why hadn’t Ash made a move on him yet?

Fizz spent the second half of the movie sitting ramrod straight, too afraid to budge, or move a

muscle. He couldn’t even glance at Ash now, hyper aware of everything he did, worrying it would be

taken the wrong way. Panic raced through his mind. What if Ash tried to kiss him? What should he

do? Fizz really wanted Ash to kiss him, even though he knew it was a bad idea.

God, this was such a mess already. He wondered if he should go back to his room. That thought

wasn’t tempting, though. He didn’t like his room much anyway.

Here, in Ryan’s room, it was warm and welcoming. And Ash was here.

When the movie ended, Fizz had just about fretted himself into a tense jumble of nerves. He was

quietly doing his breathing exercises in order to stay calm. This is it, he thought, bracing himself.

However, Ash didn’t try anything. He checked his watch, said he had a curfew of midnight, then

hurried to get his things together. Fizz watched him, completely shocked. A heavy, sad feeling stilled

his panic. He realised it was disappointment.

“Um, thank you for tonight,” he told Ash. He wanted to add how grateful he was simply for the

company, but he worried that would sound too lame.

Ash smiled, just a little, but the way his eyes shone showed how happy he was. “Hey, you know

what?” he said. “When it’s a nice day, we should totally go on the pier.”

“Um...” What? No way.

“Go on.”

“Ash, I – I don’t know.”

“I think you’ll like it.”

“Um...okay?” Fizz agreed. Oh, crap.

“Great.” Ash flashed him another smile. “Look, I’ve got a shit-load of coursework to finish up this

week, but I’ll see you around soon.”

“Okay.”

“Can I ask you something though?”

Fizz’s heart started hammering. “Um, what?”

“Why Fizz?”

“Huh?”

“Your name.”

“Oh.” Fizz’s cheeks burned. “Fitzherbert. That’s my surname.”

“What’s your first name?”

“Jamie,” he mumbled, staring at the floor.

“Cool.”

Fizz honestly thought he was about to have a panic attack, but then Ash said a quick goodbye and,

with a final smile, he darted off. Left on his own, Fizz’s heart slowed, and his breathing evened out.

He didn’t know how he would keep up with these feelings if he saw Ash again.

Chapter Eleven

Two weeks later

Ryan knew when Ginger was annoyed. The tell-tale signs were written all over him; from the

visible tension in his shoulders, to the faint frown and slightly pursed lips. All subtly pointing to the

fact that Ginger was going to snap at someone, and soon.

Ryan hoped it wouldn’t be him.

The day hadn’t started off well. In fact, the week hadn’t started off well. Aside from a messed up

order which left them with double the amount of wine but half the amount of beer they needed, one of

the pumps had broken. The brewery couldn’t get anyone out to them until next week, which was

ridiculous. Ginger had been down in the cellar most of the morning trying to fix it himself, but to no

avail.

Usually Ginger was good at fixing things, but he’d definitely lost his D.I.Y. mojo this week. He was

annoyed he hadn’t been able to fix the staff toilet upstairs too, but what had annoyed Ginger the most

was having to chase the management company to determine who was responsible for the plumbing.

One of the toilets still worked, but no one could be sure for how long. Every time someone flushed it,

or turned on the taps in the bathroom, the pipes started rattling, and blowing a foghorn.

Ryan had commented earlier that the noise sounded rather like the horn of Helm Hammerhand from

Lord of the Rings. The fact that Ginger hadn’t found his joke amusing had been Ryan’s first indicator

he was in a bad mood.

One of those days, Ryan thought. He was currently on shift with Rachel in the bar, which was dead.

Great start to Saturday. The rain was beating down heavily outside, and they barely had any customers

to speak of. It didn’t bode well for the Solstice celebrations on the beach that night. The bar would

probably receive its share of rain-soaked party goers later on, which Ryan wasn’t particularly looking

forward to.

He glanced through the entryway, into the back bar. Ginger was still there, chasing up their rep

from the management company, using the bar’s phone to make his calls.

Footsteps pattered down the stairs, and Sammy flounced his way into the bar. He was huffing and

rolling his eyes already and, as soon as he saw Ryan and Rachel, complained that his mobile phone

was missing. In a roundabout way, it sounded like he blamed Matt.

Ginger interrupted Sammy mid-flow. “I’m sure it’s here somewhere, Sammy. Why don’t you look

for it?”

Ryan could hear the strain in Ginger’s voice, and he wished Sammy would pipe down. Sammy went

on to complain about the bathroom door upstairs, and how it wouldn’t lock properly. Rachel rolled her

eyes, and wandered away. Unfazed, Sammy recounted the tale to Ryan and Ginger of how the

bathroom door had swung open that morning, whilst he was in the bath, and Matt had been on the

other side. Apparently, Matt hadn’t known where to look, Sammy told them.

Ryan was surprised at the story. He remembered a similar incident in that bathroom, when Ginger

had almost seen him naked, straight out of the shower. Oh, God. Just the thought of it now had a flush

heating his neck. Ryan hoped it wouldn’t reach his face, or Sammy would definitely pick up on it.

Luckily, Ash appeared through the door. Sopping wet, too. He was a merciful distraction, yet also

another problem; Ryan knew he was here to see Fizz. How would he get past Sammy?

Oh, dear.

Ryan leapt into action, greeting Ash, and tried to get him upstairs without an over eager Sammy

shadowing their steps. It had been two weeks since Ash and Fizz had watched their movies together.

Since then, they’d been alone on two more occasions, and Ryan was dying to know how it was going.

He ushered Ash upstairs, while simultaneously banning Sammy from following him.

Sammy stayed in the bar. He huffed and grumbled, clearly offended that Ash hadn’t stayed.

In fact, he complained about it solidly for a good five minutes.

Ryan noticed Ginger set down the phone in the back bar, then pick it up again and dial. He

misdialled a few times, and glanced at Sammy with a frown. The distraction was clearly getting to

him.

Sammy then made the mistake of saying, “Well, if Ash prefers My Little Emo, then that’s his poor

choice.”

Ginger slammed the phone down, glaring at him. “What did you say?”

Sammy was instantly quiet. The look on his face said it all; he knew he’d gone too far.

“N-nothing,” he mumbled.

“If you’re not on shift, Sammy, can you get out of the bar? Some of us have work to do.”

Sammy didn’t hang around. He flew out of the door and raced up the stairs. Ryan bit his lip, trying

not to smile. Ginger went to pick up the phone again, then slammed it back down, muttering to

himself. Ryan watched him closely, noting the tension in his shoulders had increased tenfold.

It wasn’t difficult to notice, as his shoulders were usually on display. Ginger’s hair was swept to

one side, and he wore one of his classic t-shirt choices: an old band tee, with the sleeves and collar

lopped off. As always, one bit of material had slipped down Ginger’s arm, revealing the tattoo on his

right shoulder; a blue line sketch of a mermaid with a spear, sitting upon a red heart.

Breathing in, Ryan grabbed a clean glass from the shelf. He held it under the bottle of Jack

Daniel’s, pressing it to the plunger. One shot, then he picked up the mixer tap and pressed C, for cola.

He filled the glass.

JD and Coke, in a tall glass with no ice, because he liked to taste the whiskey. Ryan knew it off by

heart. He braved the three steps into the back bar, where Ginger was still glowering down at the phone.

Ryan reached out with his free hand and gently touched Ginger’s arm.

“Hey.”

Ginger looked at the drink, then at Ryan. “You read my mind.” He smiled briefly, accepting the

drink. Ryan watched him demolish half the drink in one swift gulp.

“Um...are you okay?”

Ginger set the glass down. When he didn’t answer, Ryan moved in closer. He put his hand over the

note pad with the angry looking scribbles Ginger had jotted down. “Why don’t you take a break? Let

me chase those idiots about the plumbing.”

“It’s not that.”

“So what’s up?”

“There’s just...everything feels...” He didn’t finish. The glare in his eyes intensified as he scowled

at the telephone.

“What?” Ryan urged gently.

Ginger blinked, then glanced at him, confused, like he’d only just realised Ryan was there. He

seemed mildly surprised at how close Ryan was, and took a step back. The gesture was minute, maybe

not even a conscious effort, but Ryan was hurt all the same.

“What’s bugging you?” he asked, more direct than he meant to be.

Ginger’s blonde eyebrows drew together. He didn’t look at Ryan as he said, “I don’t like things I

can’t fix.”

“Like what?”

“People, I guess.”

“People?”

Ryan was surprised. His heart started beating expectantly. He was about to ask another question,

when Ginger said, “I don’t think Fizz should be spending so much time with Ash.”

Oh, Ryan thought. His hopes sank, but he asked anyway, “Why not?”

“Look, I know Ash is your friend, but what’s going to happen when he gets bored? I don’t think

Fizz can handle that kind of setback.”

Ryan felt irritation flare through him. “Dan, isn’t that a bit pessimistic? You’re writing them off

before they’ve even started.”

Ginger smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, Ash is a good kid. He’s also very

charming, and I haven’t seen him settle with anyone.”

“Point taken,” Ryan said. “But I know Ash better than you, and I think, this time, he has good

intentions.”

Ginger shrugged again, slipping his t-shirt back into place as he did so. “I just –” He huffed out a

breath. “It’s not that I mind Fizz being here, I want him to have some sort of life. God knows he needs

it, after living with his parents...but I never know if I’m doing the right thing for him, you know? I

haven’t got the patience for this sort of stuff.”

Ryan so badly wanted to make Ginger feel better. His natural instinct was to wrap both his arms

around him, and squeeze him tight. But he couldn’t do that. He knew could only get away with

hugging if they were both really, really drunk.

Ryan tried to focus. “It’s a tricky situation,” he said carefully. “I think you’re dealing with it just

fine. You’re bound to worry. It’s great that you do. Fizz is really lucky to have you.”

Ginger snorted. “Yeah, lucky him. I feel like a bully just asking him to eat, or interact with people.

I don’t know if any of it’s even helping him.”

“I’m sure it is,” Ryan said. “He’s getting on so well, and it’s only been just over a month. If you

compare him to how he was when he first arrived. And have you seen him with Ash? Seen them

talking, I mean?”

“Yep,” Ginger said tightly.

“Well, he seems to like spending time with Ash. And I’ve never seen Ash act like this before, so

maybe it’s good for both of them. Ash should be a good listener, after all. You know what he studies at

Uni?”

“I thought it was drama?”

“It’s drama therapy. His little niece is slightly autistic. She’s the one who made Ash want to study

drama therapy, because he wants to be a counsellor.”

“Drama for counselling?” Ginger frowned in confusion. “You’ve lost me.”

“There’s lots of different types of therapy,” Ryan said. “You’ll have to ask Ash about it, he only

told me the basics. They’ve realised now that there’s different methods of getting through to people

who can’t communicate in normal ways. They do it through physical movement, and interaction,

rather than the old method of, like, lie on a couch and tell me your problems.”

“Physical movement?”

“Yeah.”

“Like, what?”

“Dancing, I guess. Drama, singing. I dunno, Ash can explain it better. It makes more sense when he

does.”

“So, what? They do a little sing-song, and everything’s all right?”

Ryan smirked. “You know, you’re quite witty when you’re cranky, Dan.”

That finally earned him a smile.

“Maybe Ash could tell you more about it?” Ryan suggested.

“Sounds to me like he’s using Fizz like some kind of experiment.”

“Daniel, you know that’s not true.”

“Do I?” Ginger looked at him.

Ryan held his gaze, feeling slightly annoyed on Ash’s behalf. “How could you even think that?”

“I don’t know what to think,” Ginger said, then downed the rest of his drink. “All I know is that Ash

is a bit of a player. Sorry, I know he’s your friend, but it’s true. And Fizz is vulnerable.”

“What, and people can’t change? Ash hasn’t done anything wrong. All they’re doing is hanging out,

enjoying each other’s company.”

“Hn.” Ginger snorted, fiddling with his empty glass.

“That’s all they’re doing,” Ryan repeated. “Two adults enjoying each other’s company.”

“All right, so say they get on...”

“Which they are.”

“Yeah, all right,” Ginger muttered. “So, what happens when it all falls apart? What then? Fizz

won’t know what to do with himself.”

“I think you’re underestimating them. And why worry about something before it happens?”

“Because we know what will happen.”

“Not for certain. I think you should give them a chance.”

“I am,” Ginger replied. “What do you think I’m doing down here, while they’re upstairs doing God

knows what?”

“I’m just saying there’s no point in worrying for the sake of worrying.”

Ginger shook his head. “I can’t bear the waiting. It’ll all go wrong soon.”

Ryan jabbed him in the ribs, making the other man jump. “Stop jinxing it,” he said shortly. “I’m

telling you, it’ll be fine.”

“Well, I wish I shared your optimism.”

“Even if it doesn’t work out in the long run, they’re having a good time, right? They’re up there,

right now, enjoying their time together.” Ryan heard the tremor in his own voice, heard the plea there.

“Isn’t that what people do? What we’re supposed to do?”

Ginger almost looked at him, then seemed to change his mind. He bolted from the spot.

“Daniel?” Ryan followed him out to the stairwell. “Daniel! Where are you going?”

Ginger paused on the first step.

“You’re not going up there to check on them?” Ryan asked.

He didn’t answer.

“Daniel, no. Leave them alone,” Ryan insisted. He wanted to yank Ginger back, but he wasn’t quite

brave enough. “Let them enjoy their time.”

Ginger didn’t move. Ryan could hear how hard he was breathing, even over the distant strains of

music from the bar. His eye caught the mermaid tattoo peeping out under Ginger’s t-shirt, and Ryan

couldn’t bear it any longer.

“Daniel...” He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. He reached for Ginger’s hand. The contact of skin

was electric, and he threaded Ginger’s fingers with his own.

Cold air swept into the stairwell. Ryan glanced up, wondering if a window had blown open, but they

were all shut. A noise sounded above them; distant laughter.

Ginger pulled his hand away, shrugging him off. “Just leave it, Ryan.” He turned on the stairs,

grabbed his jacket from the bannisters, then stormed out through the side door to the street.

The door slammed closed, banging on its hinges. Ryan was still staring at it when Rachel came to

check on him.

“Ry?” she said quietly. “You okay?”

He nodded at her, ignoring the sick feeling in his stomach.

“Yeah, Rach...I’m fine.”

* * *

It was only late afternoon. Matt was clearing up in the kitchen before he re-opened again for the

evening run at six. Although, with the rain coming down in sheets, it wasn’t likely to be busy. He

should have been cleaning the ovens, getting them prepped along with the washing up yet, somehow,

he’d felt this odd compulsion to reorganise the pantry. He’d already hefted out two sacks of potatoes,

now he stared at them on the floor, not sure what he was doing.

Matt blamed it on the music, or rather, lack of it. His stereo had decided to stop working earlier

today. Matt was sorely tempted to nip out into town, and buy a new one. He couldn’t work without his