Tequila & Tea Bags (3 page)

‘You can call me Will, if you
must
,’ he says, seeming no friendlier. ‘But please stop offending my parents’ choice of name for me. Especially with a name like Rosemary. I
hardly
think you’re in a position to judge,’ he chuckles.

I curl my lip in rage, but feel a smile tugging at my face. It annoys me and I try desperately to supress it. I don’t want him to think I find him amusing. I think he’s a twat.  

‘Nah then,’ he says, abruptly standing up. ‘I assume you’ve finished painting the hallway?’

I nod, still trying to keep the smile from my face. He’ll think I’m a loon.

‘Well then, lead the way.’ He extends his arm, essentially dismissing me from his office.

The walk downstairs is awkward to say the least. Even though I was supposed to be leading the way he seems to keep stride in front of me, his long legs making ample work of it. Every few steps I have to do a little skip to keep up with him. I hope he doesn’t notice. He doesn’t try to engage in any conversation and the longer the silence goes on the harder I want to giggle. I wonder if there is an actual object stuck up his arse.

He walks to the bottom of the stairs and I smile proudly, presenting my masterpiece with open arms. His face drops.

‘What the fuck is this?’ he whispers, rubbing his eyebrow wearily.

‘It's my painting,
obviously.
I painted the hallway, just like you asked. Remember?’

Why does he look so stressed?

‘I asked you to repaint it, not make it look like a fucking baby crèche!’ I jump from the aggression in his voice. What is his problem?

‘Baby crèche? How fucking dare you? It looks damn better than the shitty grey that was there before.’ I lean on one hip, fully ready for a show down with this tosser.

‘Please don’t swear, Rose. The residents might hear you,’ he berates as if I’ve just used the c-word.

‘What? So you can fucking swear and I can't?’ This guy is so infuriating. Visions of me strangling him to death flash in my mind. I’d do time to finish this arsehole.

‘You’ll have to re-paint over it,’ he says in a tense voice, rubbing his forehead. ‘We’re trying to prove t’ residents that this is a responsible, caring environment. Not somewhere to drop the baby off while you get your nails done.’

Hurt and resentment rises in my chest.

‘You are such an arsehole!’ I scream, unable to stop myself.

He narrows his eyes at me and grips my arm, pulling me over to one side. I’m fucking livid. How dare he drag me around like this? Man handling a woman! Who is this wife beater? I realise Beth has been watching the whole thing and I’m mortified. It only makes me more furious.

I hear some of the residents walking out of the lounge, probably on the way to bed. I can't look at them though. I can only glare at Will and his hand still on my arm.

‘Get your fucking hands off me!’ I throw his hand off and elbow him in the stomach. He doubles over straight away, the wind knocked from him. ‘If you
ever
fucking touch me again I’ll do that to your dick!’

I’m glad I used to do martial arts. I always wanted to be a ninja. Well, a teenage mutant ninja turtle, but I soon learned you can’t live your life being bossed around by a rat. Now I’ve got the theme song in my head!

Teenage mutant ninja turtles. Heroes in a half shell, Turtle power!

‘What…’ He’s still out of breath from the punch. ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ He looks up at me and he genuinely seems hurt, not just physically.

I sigh loudly. ‘Look, I’m sorry, okay.’ I cross my hands over my chest. ‘But you don’t just grab someone like that, at least not in London. Not without expecting some sort of comeback.’

I can pretend I’m from London for this. It makes me sound tougher.

‘Okay!’ he shrieks. ‘Look, I
am
sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you any harm. Trust me, I’m ashamed to think you could imagine that I could hurt you, or any woman for that matter. I’m not like that, I swear.’ He looks genuinely pained, his hands up in defeat. I actually feel sorry that I overreacted. Well, maybe slightly.

‘Okay, apology accepted.’ I nod, still choosing to keep him on my shit list.

‘Wait a second. Why am I apologising to you when
you
punched
me
in the stomach?’ he asks, bewildered.

‘Because you were wrong,’ I answer immediately.

He sighs heavily. ‘You still need to re-paint the wall.’ He looks towards it, shaking his head. ‘Look, even the residents find it amusing.’

I look over to see that it's attracted a small crowd. There’s Zimmer frames everywhere. I pout, stupidly upset. I put some real hard graft into this and everyone’s just ridiculing it. I walk up to them, ready to stand up for myself. I was just trying to perk the place up for them, the ungrateful tossers.

‘Don’t worry ladies and gents,’ Will says, ‘the wall will be back to normal tomorrow.’

I shoot him a glare. What a waste of my day.

‘Why the heck would you want to do that?’ Betty asks, looking back at it fondly. ‘It's wonderful.’

‘Aye. Reminds me of Blackpool beach when I was younger,’ Alfred says. ‘Me and Doris used to go there for our holidays.’ He smiles sadly at the memory. He never smiles unless he’s talking about Doris.

‘No, no,’ Ethel disagrees. ‘It's clearly Clacton. I used to work there as a nurse in my twenties.’

Will looks at me, bemused, raising his eyebrows questionably. He turns back to the residents. ‘So…are you telling me you guys
like
this?’

‘Aye, we love it,’ Peter cheers. ‘Don’t we everyone?’

They all murmur appreciatively.

‘Well done, Rose!’ Betty cheers, jumping on a chair to do a celebratory dance.

‘Get down!’ Will shouts.

They seem to grab me into an embrace all at once, kissing me on the cheeks.

I feel myself choking up. As if I have the love of forty grandparents, when I didn’t even have one growing up. They all died before I was born. Well, I definitely didn’t expect this. I turn to Will and smile smugly before leaving triumphantly.

***

God, working in this pub is boring. Probably even worse than the care home. At least there you can chat with them, even if they do repeat themselves fifteen times. I discreetly pour myself a shot of vodka and down it. Getting drunk has to be the only way to get through this.

‘Oh my God, you’re the girl from London!’ someone shrieks from behind me.

I turn to see a teenager with tousled dark brown hair staring at me, her brown eyes almost as wide as her grin.

‘Sorry…and you are?’ I ask, not amused. She could be crazy.

‘Oh, of course.’ She flicks her hair over her shoulder. God, it’s glossy. ‘I’m Megan. I’m Phil’s daughter and your new best friend.’ She beams back at me.

‘Excuse me?’ I scoff. The last thing I need is a teenager following me around.

‘Don’t deny me this!’ she begs dramatically, hanging on my arm. ‘I haven’t left this village my whole life. At least be my friend and tell me how to be cool.’

‘Okay!’ I shout, throwing off her arm.

Jesus, she's persistent.

Just then the door swings open, bringing with it a sharp gust of wind. I shiver and hope my nipples haven’t reacted. They react far too easily to the weather. I’m basically Karen from Mean Girls. I can tell when it’s going to rain.

I look up, doing my best to feign interest, when the God that is James walks in, all messy curly hair and smouldering sexiness. He’s wearing Levi’s jeans and a leather jacket over a white t-shirt. Jesus, he looks like a modern day Danny Zuko dressed like that. Yum.

‘Hey, Rosebud,’ he grins. It’s almost as if he’s snickering at me.

‘Hi James,’ I say, narrowing my eyes at him suspiciously, not quite understanding him at all. Northerner’s are weird.

‘I’ll have a beer. A
bottle
of Becks.’

Ha ha bloody ha. I feel nervous all of a sudden, which I HATE feeling. Especially being made to feel that way by a man. It’s so derailing. I’m normally drunk when I chat to hot guys.

I hand over his beer with a shaking hand.

‘Thanks, Rosebud.’ He smiles, his deep dark brown eyes glistening with mischief.  

I smile despite myself. God, he’s hot. He takes a sip and starts rolling up a cigarette. Even the way he licks the Rizla papers makes me want to rip his clothes off and do the same to his entire body. He nods at me before going out the front door to smoke.

I should stay here and wash some glasses or something. Maybe go over to the old men playing dominoes and start chatting. But I
want
to go outside and see James. Maybe I should go collect glasses outside. I mean, we’re hardly rammed in here. And we can always do with more glasses, right?

I straighten myself up and push my boobs out. I walk outside and quickly go to the other side of the benches, away from him. I don’t want him to think I’m following him or anything. It’s bloody freezing. For once I wish my nipples didn’t always react so quickly to the cold. They actually sting. I cross my arms over them

Shit. There’s only one glass to collect. Well, I look ridiculous. I glance up at him and notice he’s watching me. I feel a shiver go through me that has nothing to do with the cold. He’s just so bloody sexy. His eyes are lit up from the orange cigarette tip and he’s looking right at me with a sly smile on his face.

‘Alright, Rosebud. Follow me out here did you?’ His smile spreads up to his eyes.

‘No,’ I say as sexily as I can. I attempt a giggle, but it comes out more as a fog horn noise. Sexy. Real sexy, Rose. This is so much easier when I’m drunk.

‘Come here,’ he says, sticking his fag into his mouth and reaching out with both hands. He looks at me, his eyes twinkling, as if daring me to walk into his arms. God, he’s hot. He’s making me stupid.

I look at the floor for a second, sizing up my options. He might just be taking the piss. I might just fall into his arms, only for him to laugh and shout ‘only joking, dickhead!’ I have to play hard to get. Regain some control.

‘I’m not just going to fall into your arms, you know,’ I say, raising my eyebrows, my hand on my hip. ‘I don’t know what kind of Lothario you are in this tiny village, but you don’t impress me.’

He coughs out a laugh, completely taken back. ‘Really?’ he smiles cockily, as if he doesn’t believe me. He throws his cigarette into the road without putting it out. How inconsiderate. How sexy.

I raise my eyebrows again and shrug. ‘Believe it, baby,’ I scoff, striding past him, sashaying as best I can.

He grabs hold of my waist and pulls me back into him. I try not to look up at him, but I just can’t help it. I look into his liquid chocolate eyes, still smirking at me, as if I’m the most amusing creature in the world.

‘I don’t believe it,
baby
,’ he smirks. ‘I think you’ve got the hots for me.’

The way my heart races tells me he’s right. I take a calming breath, trying to look indifferent.

‘You’re wrong,’ I whisper, my voice giving away how much of a liar I am.

I look into his eyes, glittering in the darkness, as need and desire start to push me to the edge.

‘Let’s see’, he grins, leaning into me.

Before I know what’s happening I’m leaning into him too. We’re millimetres away from each other’s lips. It’s as if he’s daring me to resist. My breath is getting heavy and I can feel his on my lips. The soft stir of his breath is seducing me. Hypnotising me.

Fuck it. I lean in and push my lips against his soft ones. He kisses back reverently, turning it quickly into a deep sexual kiss, our tongues entangled in a dance. A moan escapes my lips before I can swallow it back down. I feel him smile against my mouth. I hate the power that gives him. His hands cup my bum, before he slides one hand down the back of my jeans, twirling my lace knickers in his hands. It’s enough to jolt me back to reality.  

What am I
doing?
It’s doing all of this stuff that got me in this bloody village in the first place. I’m such a slut.

I push back abruptly, placing my hands on his chest. God, it physically hurts to leave those lips, but I have to. He smiles cheekily, as if he finds it amusing how I can’t resist him.

‘Well, I should get back to work.’ I turn around quickly and take a deep breath.

‘Wait.’ He pulls me back by my arm.

‘What?’ I ask, rolling my eyes. It’s clear he just wants to sleep with me, and I need to go now before I do. It’s so bloody tempting at the moment.

‘Come t’ zoo with me,’ he says, his face serious.

‘Wh…what?’ Is he serious? I stare at him, my eyes probing for the truth.

‘Come t’ zoo with me,’ he repeats. ‘I’ll call you.’

‘Of course you will,’ I say sarcastically, backing away from him.

He doesn’t even have my number. I walk back into the pub, kicking myself for being so stupid. Again.

***