‘Yes. We’ve got a “If I jump, you jump, no blame” agreement.’
Charles nods to confirm and perches onto his favourite stool. ‘Can you drink with us?’
‘Yeah, I’m gonna have a beer.’
‘Because thiswhisky is crap?’ George asks with a frown.
‘Because I want beer. We don’t sell crap here, contrary to popular belief.’
‘Is that why you don’t do cocktails? They’re crap, but they’d be the easiest way to make a profit.’
Charles tuts at his friend for phrasing a thought he personally never felt entitled to share. But George ignores him. He would give cooking advice to Gordon Ramsay even though he’s incapable of making an edible omelette.
‘There’s only one way to run this pub.’ Loris places their tumblers onto square napkins. ‘Patty’s way. We don’t sell olives because she hates olives.’
‘She sounds like a challenge.’
‘No, George, we’re not coming up with a two-year masterplan to revolutionise the North Haven.’
‘Buzz kill.’
‘You can, guys. But let me know when the presentation happens. I’ll bring soothing lotion for your bruised egos. Anyway, cheers!’
They raise their glasses, and Charles’ heart completely melts when he finds Loris’ eyes above the rim of his pint glass. He visibly agrees that meeting George is a big deal, but his look is nothing but an appreciative embrace.
‘Not bad,’ George comments after a sip. ‘Now, Loris, as Charles’ true father figure, I need to vet you, so I’ll ask you two questions. It’s a personality test I use on every person I meet.’
‘What?’
‘Not now, Chunshine, the grown-ups are talking. I need you to give me a moment you wish you could relive on a weekly basis, and a moment you wish you’d never gone through and could delete from your memory.’
‘Interesting…’
Charles spins on his stool, pointedly unblinking. ‘You never asked me that.’
‘I was already bright when we met, but not that deep.’
‘Or you just came up with it.’
‘No! I tested Hannah. She wants to relive a threesome she had with two women in Hungary, and she wants to forget the months when her mother decided to produce music at home. Music aimed at pets.’
‘Alright so, Loris, be aware that he’ll pull a Phoebe and share your confessions with the world.’
‘Who’s Phoebe?’ George asks.
‘His friend who supports Arsenal.’
‘Well, mate, instead of a moment, feel free to delete a person.’
Charles kicks George’s tibia, inciting an indignant humph from his friend and a genuine laugh from Loris.
‘I think I’d erase the period between the first signs my knees were fucked and the day I was told high-level rugby wasn’t an option anymore. Because those months of conflicting opinions, they just made the ultimate pill harder to swallow. That, or a past relationship. But someone might get a bad skin reaction if I broach it.’
‘You mean the musician who should have set Charles thinking about his feelings? Eric? No, what’s his name again?’
Loris mouths ‘Enzo’, George claps his thighs and Charles scowls.
‘I forbid you to gang up on me.’
