Page 41 of The Gin Lover's Guide to Dating

‘So, forget them. They’re yesterday’s news.’ Amir grins at me. ‘Now let’s get out of here and get juiced up.’

Chapter 12

Half an hour later, we’ve decamped to a nearby pub, just off Mayfield Road – a low-key traditional-style Scottish drinking den. Although it couldn’t be more different from my usual haunts, it’s actually quite comforting and appealing tonight. It has rough stone walls, a huge open fireplace sporting a welcoming warm amber glow, and a small wooden bar that’s crammed, primarily, with malt whiskies.

The bar staff greet Reyes and Amir like old friends, adding to the homely feel of the place. From their chat, I can tell this is obviously the ‘local’ of the staff from the hotel. Reyes buys a round of drinks, and we take a seat at a wooden table near the fireplace.

‘How are you doing, Chica?’ she asks me, while taking a first sip from her pint.

‘I’m not sure how to even begin to answer that.’ I sigh, my head in my hands.

‘You have been hiding secrets, yes?’

I look up. At first, I’m unsure how to take Reyes’s question, my ego and sense of judgement now so battered I almost slip again into defensive mode. Thankfully, my logical faculties are still intact. I study Reyes and Amir’s concerned faces, and realise this is just a language thing: the true meaning of her words having been lost in translation.

‘Yes…’ I let out another monumental sigh. ‘I guess I have, to protect my pride and my dignity.’

‘Tell us about it, Liv,’ Amir encourages me. ‘I know that might be hard. You haven’t known us for very long. And judging by the company you’ve been keeping, I suspect trust is probably a bit alien to you just now. But please, trust us. We have no ulterior motives. We’re just concerned friends.’

Amir’s words flood over me like a warm, comfy blanket. I so badly want to share, after everything that’s gone on. His comments about trust are so accurate: I have hadfar too muchfaith in my ‘friends’ from McArthur Cohen. But I also held quite a lot of myself back, for fear of being judged, of not fitting in, of being rejected. Deep down, I probably sensed that it wasn’t real friendship, but I never allowed those thoughts to the surface. The way Anya could ‘forget’ to include me in things, the way Stella would evade me when things got uncomfortable, the way the group operated generally. None of it suggested true lifelong friendships, but I clung on, because it was a world I so badly wanted to be part of.

‘Liv?’ Amir prompts me.

‘Oh… err… sorry.’ I drag myself back to the present. ‘Was just distracted by something you said.’

‘I understand.’ Amir smiles at me sympathetically. ‘Obviously, you don’t have to tell us anything at all. But if you want to, we’re here, we’re listening and we have your back – one hundred per cent. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s absolutely fine. We can talk about what’s going on with Reyes’s make-up instead.’

‘What is with my make-up?’ Reyes’s hands fly up to her face in alarm; she starts rubbing outwards from her under-eyes with her index fingers. ‘It is my eyeliner, yes? It is OK now?’

‘See, that could be a fun conversation instead.’ Amir gives me a wink.

‘There’s nothing wrong with your make-up.’ I put Reyes out of her misery. ‘He’s just winding you up.’

Reyes turns on Amir in indignation.

‘Amir! What do I tell you? You are not funny. You are just a little man.’

‘Thanks for stating the obvious.’ Amir chuckles.

I glance from Amir to Reyes in amusement, able – for a brief moment – to forget my woes, and just be thoroughly entertained by how they spark off each other. It’s hard not to be drawn to their humour and warmth, and most of all, their openness. This creates an inner conflict for me. On one hand, my damaged ego is protesting: urging me to retreat into the emotionless robotic persona I’ve used to protect myself for so long. But, my overriding instinct – like I’ve never felt before – is to trust these two people, and to share my pain and shame.

‘How about I do you a deal,’ I say to Amir. ‘You stop tormenting Reyes, and I’ll tell you what’s been going on.’

‘Deal. No question.’ Amir’s attention is immediately fixed on me, the mischievous glint in his eye melting again into an empathetic and encouraging concern. ‘So, what’s been going on?’

‘Yes, Chica, please talk with us,’ says Reyes.

‘OK…’

I pause and take a deep breath, alongside a deep satisfying swig of my gin and tonic, which Amir has clearly ordered as a double to help me get through this. The sharpness of the liquid on my taste buds is like a catalyst for action. It’s time to talk.

‘So, as you’ve clearly figured out from the events of this evening,’ I say. ‘I was in quite a different job before. Just several months ago. I was doing really well. I had my whole career mapped out. I was unstoppable… or so I thought…’

I relay the whole story: the sudden loss of my job; the way Sharon treated me; the string of unsuccessful interviews; the story I fabricated about having an amazing new job; meeting Aaron and reluctantly taking on the bar job; even my financial woes. They simply listen quietly; respecting the silence when I falter and encouraging me when I manage to get going again. As I talk, I’m acutely aware of Dylan’s words…

‘If you’re not careful you’re gonna turn into a right snob.’

I search Reyes and Amir’s faces nervously, wondering if that’s what they’ll think of me. Now that they know the full story, will they consider me to be just like my ex-colleagues? I’ve told them that I loved that world I was part of; that I think bar work is below me – the job that they both do. Why wouldn’t they think I was a snob? I’m starting to wonder that myself.

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