Page 20 of It Takes Three To Tango

“We have thirty minutes if you want to have a lie down. I’ll be fine opening up. Anton’s coming in soon, so take your time.”

I start to protest, but I see the look on her face.

“Do I look that bad?”

She pulls a face, like she doesn’t want to offend but she can’t be tactful and tell the truth. “Perhaps you just need more sleep,” is what she finally settles on, which tells me everything I need to know.

“I’m too old for this,” I mutter as I stumble up the stairs. Maybe I shouldn’t be trying to keep up with the younger guys. I pull my T-shirt off and sit on the edge of the bed. I fall backwards and lie staring up at the ceiling. The problem is, I know what’s causing this mood, what kept me up until dawn, and why I couldn’t sleep until the light was seeping in through the blinds. Rafe and Florencio are planning a trip up to Park Güell today. They invited me but I just made an excuse. They did look upset at my refusal and pressed me to join them, but I held fast. There’s no way I can go. Park Güell was mine and Valery’s place. We spent hours wandering aroundit. The Hypostyle Room with the columns and domed ceiling was my favourite part and the dragon stairway was Valery’s. I close my eyes, refusing to let the memories overtake me. This is stupid. I have no business having thoughts about a pretty guy and a straight one, both at least a decade younger than me. I should give in and let them go, but I can’t. I’m unable to shake the image of them from my mind and I’m addicted to it. I must have drifted off as I awake to a low rumble ... something’s not right. I sit bolt upright as the sound intensifies, and a vibration comes through the floor.

I’m on my feet and out the door just as there’s a huge crashing sound, and the air becomes thick with dust.

I jump back as the floor gives way. As the noise stops, I cough, trying to see through the gloom. When the dust clears, I just stare, my heart sinking. I look through the hole in my floor to my bathroom, which is now located in the bar.

I hear coughing below, and my immediate thought is Alena. I holler through the gap my bathroom once occupied, my heart hammering in my chest.

“I’m all right, boss,” she calls back up and my heart begins to slow down. Thank god, she’s all right. “Helluva mess, though.” Understatement of the year.

A quick glance at my watch reassures me we hadn’t been open, thankfully. But ten more minutes . . . well, it doesn’t bear thinking about.

I slowly make my way round the hole, going carefully in case any more of the floor is going to give way. I make it down the stairs and check on Alena. Luckily, she’d been in thestoreroom at the time. She’s a bit shaken but not hurt, made of stern stuff.

“Anyone else here?” I ask, looking round.

“No, I was just going to finish the last of the restock and then open up. Anton’s not here yet either.” Well, now we won’t be opening today, not for a long while. Maybe never. I push that thought away. First things first, I eye the water now running from the ruptured pipe that used to lead to my washbasin and wonder if the dodgy plumbing had been the cause. It could have been leaking for a long time without me noticing the damage. I locate the stopcock and turn the water off. It subsides to a dribble and then a drip.

“Jeez.” Anton lets out a low whistle as he appears in the doorway.

“Don’t come in,” I warn. “I’m not sure it’s safe.” He ignores me, edging round the debris and into an unaffected area. I pick up my phone. I need to call the insurance company first. They probably can’t send an assessor out that quickly, but I need to know who they want me to contact to make sure the building is safe and if I can begin cleaning up. Right now, I can’t even think what this means for my business.

Apart from making a sign for the door that we’re closed until further notice, I don’t do anything for the next hour until the builder arrives, except look at the carnage that is my house and bar.

Alena and Anton stayed with me, although I told them to go home. They refuse and I’m grateful for their presence. Alena dispatched Anton to a local café to get coffee, because without water, I can’t even make that.

As I sit there, I can’t help thinking it’s a sign. Just when I started to think about someone else, that maybe there was life outside the bar, it made sure my attention was on it. Perhaps it’s punishment for me having a fixation on an inappropriatesituation. It seems a cruel joke that it’s the bathroom that’s affected. The shower where just this morning I was jacking off—again, I stop those thoughts immediately. Fine, I curse the universe. If that’s how you want to play it. I’ll be so busy sorting this mess out I won’t have time for anyone else now, anyway.

“Are you ready to play tourist?” I ask, grinning at Rafe as we enter through the gates to Park Güell.

“Wearetourists,” Rafe replies. “We don’t need to play.”

“Oh, but I like to play.” I can’t resist and sashay my way to the foot of the dragon stairway, his laughter like a bubbling brook following me.

“Just look at this.” He stares in wonder up the dragon stairway, and its impressive statue dominating the centre section. “It’s beautiful.”

His awestruck voice is a breathy whisper. It’s a word he repeats often as we wander around the vast city park. From the coolness of the domes in the ceiling under the doric columns, each dome hosts an intricate mosaic from serpents to the seasons.

We walk for a couple of hours, taking the paths under palm trees that follow the contours of the mountain it’s built on.

I’m enjoying the park, but I’m also watching Rafe enjoy it. How his expression changes as he comes across each new feature, and every time he turns to me his face is alive and full of joy at each new discovery. I begin pointing them out for him, just so I can watch his reaction.

The whole park, as with much of Gaudi’s work, has an organic feel. Like it’s grown out of the landscape, some of it in a psychedelic way, but is still fitting in nature. Rafe in his light linen trousers and his honey-coloured shirt blends in too. After a couple of days reading on the terrace back at my aunt’s house, he is beginning to tan, and the sun has lightened the natural highlights in his hair, which just adds to his beauty. I take a few pictures of him when he’s not looking, but then he catches me. I ask him to pose, and he shakes his head but gives in with a shy smile.

“If I had known you would take pictures, I’d have worn something more suitable.” He peers down at his shirt.

“Why? What’s wrong with what you have on?” He looks delicious to me.

“I, um,” he stumbles. “Loretta, my um, ex-fiancé, never liked this colour on me. I could never wear it around her.”

Clearly the woman has no taste, but then that’s obvious as she left this gorgeous, funny, andverysexy man. But the way he says it gets my back up and a flash of anger rises.

---