Page 8 of The Grand Duel

He peers down between us, and my heart plummets. Oh,shoes. I nod as if the trainers on my feet are worth more than the false confidence I walked in here with. “They belong to a friend.”

“They belong in the gym. How did you even get past the door?”

I hold up the card and lower my eyes to it, letting them flicker open again slowly and back up to his. “With ease,” I drawl, taking a step back towards the stairs he pointed out.

He chuckles. “Wasted.”

“What was that?” I call over my shoulder, feigning indifference.

“That face,” he explains, stepping forward. He flicks his head for me to come back.

I roll my eyes and walk back to him, but I can feel my smile still lurking. He leans in to whisper in my ear. “Bron, she’s a sucker for a sob story, and she’s not the manager, she owns the place. Can’t take a compliment, so don’t bother trying. And, Shoes, do not call her the manager.”

My eyes lift to his dark-brown ones, finding a lightness in them which wasn’t there just now. “You’re helping me?”

He shrugs. “You have a pretty face.”

I smile at the compliment. “Thank you,” I say sincerely. “And it’s Lissie?—”

He shakes his head harshly, frowning. “Leanne, Lesley, Lobotomy, what-fucking-ever, butneverLissie.” He leans back an inch, eyes scolding. But I think he cares, cares that I got that wrong and cares enough to correct me. “Christian,” he eventually adds.

The chuckle that leaves me is real. “Of course it is.”

He licks his bottom lip and smiles back at me as if he finds it just as amusing. “And you are?”

“Not about to have my frontal lobe sliced open.” I purse my lips, thinking. I want it to be something powerful. Strong. Confident. “Jovie,” I say.

“Awful. Pick something else.”

My heart sinks.

“Christian,” someone calls.

“Good luck, Shoes.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

I make my way down the stairs he directed me towards, the picture of Jovie and Willow bundled up together in front of the Christmas tree, which had been tucked into my purse, lingering in the back of my mind. It feels like forever ago since I drove my baby sister to the airport and said goodbye.

My teeth clench as my chest burns at the thought, but before I know it, I’m at the end of the corridor, the door on my right slightly ajar.

A voice bleeds out from inside.

I push the heaviness, the pressure, the expectation all the way down, knowing it’s not going to do me any favours if I want to come across well at this impromptu interview of sorts.

“I know.” I lean forward, trying to hear better. “I know that, Mum. There’s…you’re never going to get it. Or listen or even try to understand…I do, I do know that, and I’ve told you so many times—” A sigh. “No. No, Mum…I’m hanging up.”

I hear the phone clatter to a desk and straighten my posture.

Well, this is awkward. I go to knock on the door but think better of it, lowering my hand. Maybe I should leave. This day hasn’t exactly gone my way, and I can already tell I’ve arrived at a bad time. I stare down at the trainers on my feet and cringe. I could come back tomorrow.

“What do you want?”

My eyes widen. The tone. The way she said it.

“Are you going to come in or just stand outside and pretend you didn’t hear all that?”

“Uh—” I step through the door, my feet coming to an abrupt halt when my gaze catches on the room. “I’m going to come inside and pretend I didn’t hear any of that.”

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