Page 25 of The Gin Lover's Guide to Dating

‘Gin and tonic for the lady, mate. Looks like she needs it quick.’

The middle-aged barman throws Dylan anI’m-not-your-bloody-servantlook, which Dylan misses completely, having sneaked back to the football momentarily, before forcing himself to focus fully on me.

‘So, you got the job. That’s great.’ He squeezes my shoulder supportively. ‘It’s not forever, Squirt. Just to top you up till you do get your career back on track.’

The barman places my drink in front of me.

‘Thanks.’ I give him an appreciative and apologetic look, take a big slug of my gin and tonic, then turn to Dylan. ‘I know, but I can’t help feeling that my “career” is slipping further away.’

‘You can’t think that way,’ says Dylan. ‘You’re the most successful person I know. You’re the only one – other than me – who’s moved away from the estate. And you’ve really made something of yourself. One tiny setback isn’t a big deal. If I had the CV you have – gap or no gap – I’d be well proud. You’re gonna be all right. You just need to keep fighting on.’

‘I’ll keep trying, of course I will.’ I sigh. ‘Nothing will take away my drive and determination long-term – that’s hard-coded in me. But each rejection chips away that little bit more of my confidence.’

‘Aww, Squirt. I really wish I could help you.’ Dylan pulls me into a sideways hug that I don’t even have the energy to resist. ‘At least you have some more time to sort things out now.’

‘I know. I’m fine. It is what it is.’ I shrug. ‘I just need to keep going. I do have more time, as you say. That’s the main thing. I’ll keep applying for anything in my field that comes up…’

I trail off thoughtfully and we sit in companionable silence watching the players on the screen kick the ball around the pitch.

‘One good thing actually,’ I say eventually, ‘is that it looks like one of my bar colleagues is really nice. A bit over-friendly, perhaps, but she seems fun. Hopefully that’ll take the sting out of things.’

‘There you go.’ Dylan seems encouraged by this tiny morsel of optimism. ‘That’s a positive. Keep thinking that way and you’ll be fine.’

‘Yeah, you’re right. I need positivity.’ I sit up straight to affirm this. ‘Hey, you never know, maybe a job at Head Office will come up quickly and I’ll only be in the bar for a few weeks.’

‘Exactly. Maybe Aaron’s already working on that for you. So, is she hot, this new mate of yours?’

‘She’s not my mate. She’s a colleague.’ I give him a faux scathing look. ‘But, yes, she is – very beautiful actually. She’s Spanish. Probably a couple of years younger than me.’

‘Ding ding.’ Dylan’s eyes light up. ‘Might need to get my coat tails on sooner than I thought.’

‘Don’t you dare,’ I warn him. ‘The last thing I need is to lose another job because you’ve gotten drunk and disorderly, and been thrown out for perving on the bar staff.’

‘Hey.’ Dylan looks hurt. ‘I can scrub up when I need to.’

‘Well, you’ll definitely need to if you’re coming anywhere near that place – and I’m sorry but the earring will have to go. It’s proper high level – more so than the bars I’ve taken you to.’

‘You’ll fit right in then, won’t you?’ He gives me a huffy look. ‘You and your poncey arse.’

Chapter 7

Four days later, I’m standing miserably in front of the full-length mirror in the hotel’s dingy, rather stale-smelling staff changing rooms: nothing like the plush environment of the main hotel. I survey my bar uniform with four parts dismay, one part approval. The only saving grace – a slight release from mourning my previous beautifully tailored corporate wardrobe – is that I can’t help thinking my current outfit is a little bit stylish. Ankle-grazing black leggings and a chic, figure-enhancing purple tunic top with three-quarter-length sleeves; the bar name, Amethyst, emblazoned down the left side of the tunic, created from tiny white and purple diamanté stones and black stitching. On inspection, I’m surprised to see it’s actually made by a well-known, up-and-coming designer clothing label. At least they have damn good taste in this hotel.

It’s a short-lived boost, however. My mind creeps back to my impending shift and I’m flooded with dread. Thankful as I am to Aaron for saving my arse, and as lovely as Reyes may seem, this is not what I want – at all. I long for my shiny mahogany desk at McArthur Cohen, my comfortable, perfectly adjusted chair. I desperately miss the vibrant, buzzy cosmopolitan view from my window upon which I would gaze wistfully whenever I needed some additional inspiration. The tap-tap-tappity-tap of keyboards in the room, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee; being at meetings where we talked strategic concepts, discussed innovative ideas, reviewed progress, risks, issues, everything. I was at home there: climbing, achieving, and making it. It was my everything. How has it ended up like this?

The sense of loss for my old life swamps me, even more than when I was out of work. At least I was still then a communications and PR professional; one who was ‘between jobs’. Now I feel I’ve lost that identity altogether. It’s just temporary, Dylan keeps telling me, but the fear has already set in. What if that’s it? What if I can never get my foot back in the corporate door – slammed in my faced and some bastard has changed the locks? What ifthisis now it?

You’re not that hotshot professional anymore. You’re unemployed and barely employable.

The voice eats me up; goading and jeering at me, upsetting my breathing pattern. I suddenly feel completely overwhelmed and panicky as another wave of despair engulfs me.

Just as I’m deliberating whether to slip away and pretend this ‘bad dream’ never happened (while simultaneously beginning the countdown to my apartment being repossessed), the door to the changing rooms is flung open and Reyes bounds inside.

‘Hola, Liv! Welcome to hell!’ She laughs loudly. ‘I am kidding.’

She pronounces itkeeding; with no idea how close her joke brings me to scarpering through the slowly closing door, like a terrified mouse. As if to seal my imprisonment, the faulty door closer causes it to suddenly slam shut. I flinch at the unexpected bang.

‘Hey, are you OK, Liv?’ Reyes darts forward towards me. ‘I was just joking. It is not hell. It is great. The staff areas are not as good, and the food in the canteen is terrible, yes, but this place, it has great people, great spirit. You will be happy here, I know this.’

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