Jack shrugged and headed off to the open kitchen where everything was ready; heat spitting out from the grills and ovens.
“I’ll get in touch with you tomorrow. Try to get your guest list ready if you can, it’ll help us out. Can I ask,” I watched Leif’s dark eyes follow Jack into the kitchen area. “Why you picked us?”
He nodded, his eyes back on me. “I grew up in this building. It used to be a children’s home.”
A more empathetic person would’ve made some sympathetic noise. If it had been Vanessa instead of myself, she would’ve been offering the right words to convey concern, but this was me and the only way I could communicate without putting my foot in my mouth was by putting something else in the other person’s mouth: food.
“Can I get you something to eat before the function starts?”
His grin was wide, as if he found my discomfort amusing.
“I’m good. I’ll have a coffee though.”
“What sort?” I expected something outlandish, something with a strange syrup or blend.
“Normal flat white. No sugar. Thank you.” He headed off to sit at a table near the window, pulling out a pad and pen from his pocket.
Jack was checking out the prep work done by one of the sous chefs and looked happier than he had done earlier.
“Was he okay?” he said as I got close enough to hear. “He looked pissed off.”
“Do you know who he is?”
Jack nodded. “He’s a rock star. One of the biggest bands of the last couple of years. You’ll know his music – it’s on in the kitchen most of the time. I think Van Gogh saw them sing live three times last year.”
I wouldn’t know because I didn’t spend that much time thinking about other people or what their interests were because I didn’t want to get involved. Keeping that safe distance at all times was the closest thing to a motto I’d had since getting divorced the second time.
The first time I’d married it was because I was young and stupid and someone had shown attention in this awkward girl from the North-East who loved to dance and cook but could do little else.
The second time I’d married it was because I’d been enchanted by a man who’d been everything golden. He was Midas in a world of thieves, only his outfit had been a cloak that had shrouded the darkness he carried inside. The glow he swamped the world with existed only to conceal the real him, the person who came alive when there was no one there to see it, except me. He created a cage with his words and placed me in it and gradually I forgot my song.
Since then I’d kept people at more than arm’s length, more like football pitch length. I was busy because I needed to be; I was a workaholic because it was acceptable; I was abrupt and outspoken because I could be and it deterred anyone from trying to see what lay beyond it, seeing what was hidden beneath the façade I’d weaved.
Only now, more than half a decade on from when my second husband ended up in prison for murdering his mistress, I was questioning whether my ability to recognise an absolute shithead fuckwit of a man had improved. Could I trust myself again to even make a friendship that went beyond food?
“Maybe we should have a staff night out.” The words left my mouth like glass shards.
“Maybe you should join us when we do have them. Remember?”
“Oh.” He’d mentioned it but I’d thought he was being polite. Usually staff didn’t want the boss out with them.
Jack shook his head but was smiling, finding me amusing. Usually I’d become cross if someone was laughing at my expense but he didn’t bring that out in me; instead I felt…chosen.
“It’s okay, Simone. You can join us next time. I think we’re going late night bowling next Wednesday. When’s the last time you bowled?” He shifted a paella pan out of the way.
“I can’t remember.”
That was a lie. I did remember. It had been six weeks before I had the guts to leave my second husband. We’d gone out with friends to bowling lanes near them. I was good at bowling and even though I’d tried to throw my turns I’d beat him. Later the tears came, his and mine. Never with his fists, never physically, only with his words. He saved his punches for someone else.
“You want to come with us? I promise not to laugh if you need to use the rails.”
And that was what did it. There was no way Jack was going to beat me at bowling and I suspected that if I did win, his reaction would be totally the opposite.
“You’re on. What were you scowling at before?”
His stare landed on Leif Rosso.
“Okay. What’s he done to you?”
