Page 48 of The Worst Guy Ever
I leave him to finish the candles while I dismantle the flower wall on the stage. A few minutes later, my phone pings, but it’s not in my pocket. I’ve left it on the bar, right next to where he’s standing.
“Who’s George?” the nosy bastard asks, looking at my screen.
“None of your business.”
“Well he says he wants to see you soon.” I press my lips together and turn away, trying not to laugh. “Must be one very satisfied customer. He says it’s been far too long.”
Of course he would think the worst of me. I dump an armful of flowers on the end of the bar, and reach for my phone, shoving it into my back pocket.
“George,Georgina, is my sister, if you must know. She keeps harping on at me about not visiting enough.”
“Oh.” His shoulders slump, and he seems almost disappointed that he hasn’t got a fight out of me.
“Get the bunting down.”
He reaches for the scissors at the same time as I pick them up, but I think he’s about to touch me and swerve out of reach, batting his arm away.
Suddenly he’s screaming. His eyes are wide, hands covering his face and when he pulls them away, we both look at his hand, then each other, and then back to his hand, which is covered in blood.
“You’ve fucking cut me.”
“Oh my God, oh my God,” I look around, panic, and ball up a wad of tissue paper to hold up to his face. “I’m so sorry. Let me help.”
“No, get off me,” he pushes me away and I stumble backwards.
I run behind the bar to get clean napkins and he bends forward to avoid getting blood all over himself.
“Here,” I hand the napkins to him, my other hand on his shoulder.
“Get off me, Hattie.”
“Calm down, it’s not that bad.”
“Not that bad? It’s my fucking face Hattie, how you do expect me to be calm? I’ll have a scar.”
Megan chooses this moment to reappear, with Rob doubled over and me crouching down trying to help.
“Well, this escalated.”
“I need to go to hospital,” Rob shouts at her.
“No, really?” I physically feel the colour draining from my face. “Come on, it’s not that bad. It can’t be that bad. Can it?Fuck.”
“Get me my coat and my keys,” he screams, pointing over to the end of the bar and grabbing another wad of napkins.
“I’m really sorry, Rob. It was an accident. I’m so sorry.” I want to cry but I think I’m in shock.
“My coat. Now!”
“No, you can’t. I’ll drive you.”
Chapter 20
Rob
Myfuckingface.
I know Hattie is an angry, mouthy, sometimes volatile little firework, but never in my life did I think she’d go as far as slashing me across the face.
