I shrugged. “I don’t think there’s any other interest. It’s remote and the only other purpose it’s suited to is a hotel like this one, which I don’t think there’s the demand for.” I had kind of looked into that already. In my head, I had a figure I was pretty sure would be accepted by the owner. Research. The inner geek that had never been there while I was a wild, pretty horrific teenager had surfaced and now did his homework. My teachers would’ve been proud.
Wes stood and gave a nod. “I hope it works out, mainly because you might record something for yourself, even if it’s something completely different.”
“It isn’t about the money.”
“Neither was my suggestion. You’ve been song writing since you were a kid. Don’t cut off the creativity when it’s your best form of therapy.” He picked up his coat that he’d discarded over the back of the sofa where we’d been sitting, one of the hotel’s staff members standing nearby, politely indicating that his car was now ready to take him to the airport.
“I know. But I can write for other people.”
“Won’t be the same, kid.”
He opened his arms for the almost manly hug he ended our meetings with every time.
“We’ll see.”
I watched him walk over to the door towards reception, already talking to the member of staff whose name I’d try to learn over the next few weeks, try to be a bit more personable. Wes didn’t turn back. This was no fond farewell. I doubted if twenty-four hours would pass before I next spoke to him.
* * *
The bar was already open as it was already past one in the afternoon. I wasn’t sure it actually shut, just that the hotel’s residents tended to be on the quieter side, having the knickers to match their fur coats, rather than just pretending to be rich enough to afford to stay here.
There was a solitary person at the bar, one I vaguely recognised but I wasn’t sure where from. He looked up as I approached, lifted his beer in a friendly gesture and then looked back out of the window at the lagoon that was just a few feet away.
“Just arrived?” I took a seat next to him.
“Just arrived. I believe you’re the only other resident while we’re here. Hope we don’t cramp your style.” He was English, his accent that of someone who could be from anywhere in the country, just well educated. I wondered what football team he supported.
“You won’t.” The bartender caught my eye. “Beer please.” I wasn’t an alcoholic. Or an addict. Although I’d done too much of everything over the last two decades. But it didn’t define me, whatever I’d told the media as my escape route.
“I’m Seph, by the way. I know you’re Leif Rossi.” He held out his hand.
I shook it, pretending to be a gentleman. “It’s Liam. Leif was a stage name.”
Seph nodded. “I knew that. You used the restaurant of my friend Simone to announce your retirement.” He looked at the beer. “Going to ask the obvious: are you meant to be drinking that?”
Annoyance briefly ran through me. I hated having my business invaded. Growing up in the care system meant that too many people knew too much about me: social workers, independent reviewing officers, therapists, care home staff, teachers from something called virtual schools who kept an eye on the education of kids in care, and those people changed. I remembered being fourteen and taken into a meeting where twelve people sat around a table, discussing me, and I only knew who five of them were.
I’d lost the plot at that point.
“I’m not an alcoholic. I should be drinking it about as much as you should.”
Seph gave a nod. “Cool. I know it isn’t my business but it is my business to stop people fucking up I f I can. God knows enough people have done that for me.”
We both turned round at the same time, raised voices destroying the quiet.
“You didn’t think I’d actually like five days away with my girl friends without you and your band of merry men? How much of a fucking cockwomble are you, Maxwell Callaghan? Did you do this to piss me off on purpose?”
I raised my brows at Seph, who smirked.
“I told him this was a bad idea.”
“Told who? I thought there was a hen party here.”
“There is.” Seph took a long drink of his beer. “This is additional entertainment. My oldest, and arguably stupidest, brother thought it was a good idea to crash his fiancée’s hen getaway.”
I saw the woman who was probably the hen through the large window. A man who looked a lot like Seph was stood facing her, his back to the lagoon. He didn’t appear to be answering back, simply taking his punishment of a verbal battering.
“You’re such a dick! And you lied to me!”
