Page 28 of The Reno
My traitorous brain couldn’t help but flicker down his large hands clasped around the bag of sweets. Liam tracked the motion, and I could see the penny drop. Liam’s lips curved into a smirk, but my head whipped to the front to stare at Peter stepping onto the stage.
Peter cleared his throat and tapped the mic, making a screeching noise erupt over the speakers.
“Is this working?” His voice was sooty, like he smoked fifty a day. “I propose that dogs be banned from the social club. It is no place for smelly, snorting creatures who piss on the carpets. All those who agree, raise their hands.”
About a third of the room raised their hands.
Lydia hummed. “That’s more than last time.”
“He’s proposed this before?”
Lydia rolled her eyes. “He does it every meeting. And he gets closer every time. He does it to spite Pat because she brings in Noodle. But he’s good as gold.”
“Next,” Peter announced, “I propose we ban the insolent makers market that we have used club money to fund—”
“We aren’t funding it, Peter. We just bought a new marquee. The old one had holes in it,” I heard a woman shout across the room. Peter’s face went bright red.
“I am speaking, Eman.”
“Eman is the treasurer,” Lydia explained.
“The markets are a public nuisance. Closing the high street on a Saturday? What if there is an emergency, and the police can’t get through?” he exclaimed.
“This is a waste of our time,” Liam muttered under his breath.
Peter continued, “And that doesn’t even mention that we are letting non-members into the club. Now, in my time, this was fine on the odd occasion. But every month? Absurd. We are a members’ club.” Peter pounded his fist like he was at the pulpit.
I jumped when Liam piped up beside me, “People pay thirty quid a year to drink discounted pints of warm ale, Peter. This isn’t Soho House.”
I raised my eyebrows, surprised that Liam had even heard of Soho House.
“Liam, I would have expected you to understand—” Peter said, indignant.
Liam stood up. “Well, I don’t. Would you get a move on? Some of us want to get home for tea.”
A small, unexpected glimmer of respect grew in my chest. Liam sank back down into his seat, and I’m sure my eyes were bugging out of my head.
“Those in favour,” Peter grumbled, and a few hands, maybe three, were thrown up. Pat and Sandra celebrated from the side of the stage.
Lydia raised her hand. “I don’t get his problem. The markets are fun! They only allow independent businesses to rent a stall. I know for a fact his daughter has a jewellery business. He’d rather short-change his own daughter over letting Pat win.” Lydia shook her head. “Unbelievable.”
I grinned. “This is kind of fun.”
“Right?” Lydia grinned, throwing more popcorn into her mouth.
Pat returned to the mic, and a hush fell over the crowd.
“Next, we have AOBs and general notices. We have one from Sandra Williams.” Sandra made her way up onto the stage.
“What is she going to speak about?” I leaned towards Lydia, curious.
“I just have a quick one. We need some help.” Sandra scanned the room. Who was she looking for? Her face lit up when she spotted where I was sitting.
My stomach swooped.
No, she wasn’t—no.
“Or I should say, my niece, Kat, needs some help.” Sandra pointed, and my palms began to sweat as every single head swivelled towards me.
