Page 65 of The Gin Lover's Guide to Dating

Where am I really? Failing in a career that possibly wasn’t right for me in the first place? Was it more the allure of the corporate world, that promise of prosperity and security? After a childhood of hardship: opening an empty fridge day after day, being teased for being so scrawny in faded, tatty clothes. I wasn’t the only kid from a deprived background, but probably the least nurtured and looked after. I remember the tutting of the other parents: the whispers of why social services hadn’t put me in foster care. They thought I didn’t hear, but I did. I wanted to put that existence behind me, to never have to go to bed cold and hungry again. What’s actually wrong with that?

I feel an overwhelming sense of vulnerability. Have I lost sight of why I made the choices I made? Allowing materialism to take over from my survival instincts so I could fit in. Living a false life in a way, with no real friendships. A tiny cog in a huge machine, where my projects could be halted and discarded like trash. I had a good, steady income that meant my kitchen cupboards were never bare, I could afford to have the heating on, and I had a secure roof over my head. I forgot how important that was.

Now I can count on two hands the number of weeks I have left before I’m homeless. Have I really tried hard enough to get my career back on track?

I lie there, torturing and berating myself for being such a failure and for taking things for granted – something I had promised myself I would never do. My irrational inner voice chides me cruelly and relentlessly until it’s interrupted by the alarm on my phone, set only to stop me sleeping till midday – which I might easily do after a long shift.

I pick up my phone to silence it and see I have a text from Dylan.

Hey Squirt. Hope you don’t mind, but I logged into your admin page to check your subscribers. You’ve just topped 2k! It’s moved faster than I expected. This is it. You’re gonna make money on this, but you need to be on it. Get another post done fast!

I stare at his message in disbelief. Two thousand subscribers? Since last night? How did that even happen?

It’s the kick up the backside I need. The rational part of my mind swoops in and grabs back control. Ihavedone everything I can to save my career. I’ve applied for over thirty jobs. I’ve been to a mind-numbing number of interviews. I could never have stopped McArthur Cohen ditching me in the first place.Theywere responsible for that – not me. But now I have an opportunity, I’m going to damn well make it work.

I tap out a quick-fire response to Dylan to let him know I am indeed ‘on it’, then jump out of bed and head straight for the shower, my determination having returned with a vengeance.

Two hours later, I’m parked at my breakfast bar, tapping away furiously at my laptop. I’ve decided that, if I’m going to make this a success, I need a pipeline of content for my posts. In addition to having written the first draft of my next one, I’ve also got a list of ideas for others, based on the encounters I’ve witnessed in the bar.

Deciding I need a break, I get up and check my phone, and discover I have a text message from Josh – in response to the one I eventually sent just before going to bed.

Morning, beautiful. Will I be seeing you at work today? Wondered if you were up for that decider game of pool tonight? So we can get the competition out the way and just focus on us. :)

I smile at his message. Well timed, Josh. Had he sent me that while I was lost in my turmoil, I would probably have fobbed him off. Instead, I decide that his suggestion will do me a lot of good in two ways. The chance to kick his arse at pool will further fuel my determination; I’ll also benefit from the adolescent hormonal boost I get when I’m around him. I might even get some inspiration for my writing too.

As long as I stay focused on my blog and keeping a roof over my head, there’s no reason why I can’t enjoy a little bit of extra-curricular fun on the side (and Reyes would kill me if I ditched him anyway). Although I’ll wait a while before I let him know I’m in. I need to stay in charge, and I definitely don’t have time for lots of pointless messaging back and forth – no matter how much his texts turn me into a love-struck giggly schoolgirl. How is it that I can even be reduced to that?

As I’m pondering this thought, I remember what Reyes said the night before. I haven’t read or answered any of the comments on my site yet. I immediately hop back onto the bar stool and log into my admin page. Scrolling down the comments, I see that there are a few more than when I looked the evening before. I start straight away:

Tess89:Loving your choice of subject matter. Like reading a boozy romcom. Delicious!

MissGinFizz:Thanks, Tess89! Certainly sounds like your taste. More to come very soon…

TotalGinAddict:Great story! Tried your salad-gone-wrong. Great way to get one of my five-a-day. LOL. Thanks for the recommendation.

MissGinFizz:Love your username, TotalGinAddict. Seems like you’re the perfect audience for this. Thanks for subscribing. Hope you’ll stick around for more top tips.

SarahMcJ:Loved the underdog theme in this! I was rooting for the lad the whole way through. More please!! :)

MissGinFizz:I was too, SarahMcJ. Definitely more on the way. Stay tuned!

I plough my way through one comment after the next until I reach the final one:

GrahamLeeton:Simply inspired. You lit up the page with engaging, witty prose and had me hooked to the end. Obviously a very talented writer. Looking forward to the next.

MissGinFizz:Wow, thanks, GrahamLeeton! That is high praise indeed – talks to my mind and my soul. Hope I can continue to impress you.

As I hit submit on this last response, I climb off the bar stool and do a big stretch, feeling quite pleased with my efforts. Definitely a productive start to my day. Deciding I’ll finish and publish my second post the next day – once I’ve had some distance and can edit it with fresh eyes – I lean over and log out of my admin page, shut down my laptop. I then grab my phone from the breakfast bar and send a reply to Josh.

Game on. I hope you’re looking forward to getting your arse whipped. Enjoy your ego while you still have one. ;) xx

He replies within seconds.

We’ll see. I’m more than ready for you. Your mind games definitely won’t work this time.

‘Just you wait, pal,’ I mutter, then head to my bedroom to get myself and my inner-pool-shark ready for work.

Arriving at the hotel a short while later, I feel a flutter in my stomach as I realise Josh is here, somewhere in the building. I have no idea when he’ll just suddenly appear. I enter the changing rooms, take off my jacket, and hang it and my handbag in my locker. As I do, I miss the door opening quietly behind me, and nearly die of fright as a pair of arms slip round my waist from behind.

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