Page 58 of Just a Number

When I’m back at my place, I gather up my gear for the pottery followed by a shift at the pub as I won’t have time to come back in between. Before I leave, I shoot a quick text to Abby:

Me:

Hey, do you think Tom will be okay with me working behind the bar with a black eye?

I don’t expect a quick reply, so it’s a shock when it starts ringing within a moment of the text being delivered. I press the answer button and bring the phone up to my ear.

“What the hell happened?” Abby shrieks. I pull the phone away, wincing at the loudness.

“I’m okay, just not sure if it’s the look Tom’s going for with his staff?”

“Alex. Spill the beans. Right this second.”

“Okay, okay, a family member of a woman I’m seeing took offence to us being together.”

“What? Mel’s ex-husband hit you?”

“What? No, Zack, her son. How do you know it’s Mel?”

“Oh, honey, I knew weeks ago. Why did he hit you?”

“Because he thought I was taking advantage of her and I broke the bro code. I’m not supposed to sleep with exes or family members of friends.”

“For fuck’s sake, you guys are pathetic.” Her tone is disdainful.

“I thought I could do some work out the back or help in the kitchen if need be tonight?” I suggest.

“Yeah, you might have to. I’ll talk to Tom and see what he thinks. It might depend on how bad it looks.”

“Fair enough. I just, uh, could really use the money.” I decide to be honest with her in the hope she’ll be able to convince the boss.

“Okay, if he’s not keen on you at the bar, I’ll come up with some heinous cleaning jobs for you to do behind the scenes. The cellar has needed a clear out for ages,” she tells me teasingly.

“Hey, if it means I get paid, I’ll do it.”

“Noted. Alright, I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“See ya, Abby.”

The pub is fairly quiet, thank goodness, because Tom took one look at my swollen, black eye and shook his head in disgust.

“Can I tidy the cellar or do some work behind the scenes instead of at the bar?” I ask him.

“Yeah, Abs made a list. Prepare yourself. It’s all the stuff no-one else wants to do. What happened to you, anyway?”

“Did Abby not say?”

He shakes his head, watching me closely.

“I’ve been seeing a woman and her son found out. He’s a friend of mine and wasn’t exactly happy about it. He thought I’d taken advantage of her.”

Tom gives a sage nod and I sense much less judgement from him about this violent turn of events than I did from Abby on the phone earlier. “Okay, well, no fighting at work. And have a go at the list Abby’s done for you. If we get desperately busy, I might pull you up, but I’d rather the punters didn’t think we have a fighter on staff.” He grimaces.

“Thank you. And I’ll, uh, try to not let it happen again.”

He claps me on the shoulder. “Go find Abby and her list of torture. If your eye starts throbbing, come and find me. I might have some salve that will help in the first aid kit.”

“Thanks.”

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