“If I can set her up on a date on Friday night, she owes me a new jacket on our shopping trip on Saturday. What are you doing on Friday? Can I persuade you to meet Keren here at say, eight, just for a drink?” Rayah sounded sweeter than a bag of sugar.
Oliver flexed his biceps. “I’m not sure. What’s your friend like?”
“She’s gorgeous, mate,” Kenny said, making a crude gesture around the size of Keren’s chest.
Scott wondered whether it was okay to stick his drumsticks up his nostrils until he hit Kenny’s brains, if there was any there.
“Intelligent, long silky dark hair and the nicest arse…”
“Go get some more beers, Ken. On the house.” Scott elbowed him. Hard.
“Awesome!” Kenny said, forgetting what he was about to say which was just as well.
“See,” Rayah said. “She’s gorgeous. And clever. If I was into pussy I’d definitely want a lick of hers.”
“Rayah!” Scott said, slamming his hand down on the table.
Rayah started laughing, the trench coat opening to expose a silky pyjama top. “My cousin’s a prude. I can’t remember the last time he got his rocks off. Maybe I need to set you up, Scotty. Is that okay then, Olly? Eight on Friday? We’ll all be here after so if it’s a bit awkward it won’t be for long. Not that it’ll be awkward. Keren’s great.” She sounded sincere now as opposed to sickly.
“Tell you what,” Oliver said. “Tell her to meet me at the restaurant at the Manor Hotel. I was going to take my sister when she visited on Sunday, so it’ll give me a chance to test it out and meet my new dentist.”
“Sounds even better,” Rayah said, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “Let me have your number and I’ll text you Keren’s.”
Scott moved away, not needing to see any more of this. His mouth was hurting, his patience was shortening and he’d just heard a massive crash downstairs.
What a fucking day.
Two hours later and the sign on the door was turned to closed, a gentle lull filling the bar. Aside from seeing his new rhythm guitarist get hit on in a weird and disturbing kind of way, practice had gone well. If anything, Oliver was a better musician than his predecessor, until Keren got her claws into him and refused to let him play, or something equally catty like that.
There was a tap at the door as he wiped down the bar. Abby did a great job of cleaning up, but there was something about making sure everything was good himself that was therapeutic.
Zack Maynard, the eldest of his two younger brothers, stood looking through the window, gesturing to be let in. Scott gave him a sarcastic wave and carried on with his wiping, listening to the banging getting louder.
It was only at the point where he heard Zack call him an asshole that he decided to let him in.
“Good job it wasn’t a fucking emergency,” Zack said, sitting down on one of the benches. “Something could’ve been totally screwed and you’re waving at me like you’re the fucking queen!”
Scott chuckled. “You’d have phoned.”
“What’s up with your face, bro?” Zack said, squinting.
“Don’t you start.”
Zack shook his head. “Seriously. What’s up?”
“Had to have a tooth out. The pain relief is wearing off too. It’s throbbing like a bastard.” He’d been trying to ignore it for the last hour, not wanting to take any tablets, but he was pretty sure it was a toss-up between half a bottle of whisky or pain killers to get to sleep.
He was erring on the side of the whisky.
Zack laughed. “Did you drive to an emergency dentist somewhere or did you swallow your pride and get Keren to do it?”
Scott huffed and pulled two pints, giving one to his undeserving brother. “Shouldn’t you be at home banging your girlfriend? We all know you haven’t got the capabilities to have christened the whole place yet.” Zack had just moved in with his girlfriend, Sorrell. They had a cottage that they’d spent the past three months renovating and Scott felt like he’d chosen each part of the décor with them, he’d heard about it that much.
Zack took the pint, looking at it reverently. “There’s no point answering that. It’ll just make you even more pissed off that you haven’t been laid in fuck knows how long? When was it?”
Scott shook his head. “Just because I don’t whore myself out like Jake does, doesn’t mean that I’m a monk.” Jake was their cousin and a known ladies’ man, he rarely failed to leave the town on a Saturday evening, and several other evenings, without a woman.
Zack looked at him, cocking his head to one side. “I haven’t seen you with a woman since before Christmas and it’s now March. Unless you’ve got a secret fuck buddy relationship going on with someone, then your balls are bluer than the paint Sorrell picked for the spare bedroom.” He looked momentarily disturbed.
