Page 14 of Cream & Sugar
I show Rory my texts with Shaun, pointing to the one where he offers me the role. He reads for a moment and frowns.
“‘No bare midriffs?’”
I snatch the phone back. “Ignore that. That’s a, um, private joke.”
Rory blinks. “A private joke.”
“Aye.”
“With your employer?”
“Yes…”
“Who you just met today?”
I smile, innocently. “What’s your point?”
Rory narrows his eyes. I can almost see the cogs grinding in his brain. “Exactly how did you get this job?”
“Uh, the normal way,” I say, defensively. “By having the right skills.”
“You don’t have any skills,” Rory says, harshly. And it’s not true; I can play chromatic scales on the guitar and they’re hard as balls.
“Maybe not the kind you value,” I smile, killing him with kindness, “but I have my ways.”
Rory shakes his head. “I knew it. You man-whored your way into a job, didn’t you?”
“Of course not—” I begin, but Rory’s having none of it.
“You are unbelievable, Fred. ‘No bare midriffs.’ What did you do, strip off mid-interview?”
I try to think of something to say to that, but I’m lost for words. He knows me too well. My grin turns sheepish, my cheeks flush.
Rory scoffs. “That is so bloody typical.”
He turns his back to me and goes to the fridge. A twinge of annoyance pinches my eyebrows. I vault over the back of the sofa and take a seat at the breakfast bar as Rory pulls a Tupperware of chicken and broccoli from the fridge.
“Hardly anywhere was hiring and you gave me an ultimatum. I had to use all my assets, show a little initiative, you know?”
“Coasting on your looks is not ‘showing initiative’,” Rory seethes, ramming the Tupperware into the microwave. “That pretty face won’t last forever, you know.”
“Aw,” I flutter my eyelids. “You think I’m pretty?”
The veins in Rory’s massive neck bulge like tiny snakes. I should stop winding him up, but it’s hard when he’s acting like such a jerk. I got a job, didn’t I? What more can he possibly ask of me?
Rory folds his ham-sized arms. “I’m not in the mood, Freddie.”
“Well from next week I can start paying rent again. That has to cheer you up a little bit?”
He says nothing. The microwave whirrs and the chicken spits.
“I thought you’d be pleased,” I say, my voice more puppyish than I’d have liked. “I got a job, Rory. I’m going to be a barrister!” He frowns. “Shit, no, the other one—ba-ree-sta.”
I can’t read Rory’s face; he’s not even looking at me. Why is he being such a dick? Unless…
“Oh, I get it,” I say, slowly. “You hoped I wouldn’t find a job, didn't you? Youwantedme to leave, that’s why you’re annoyed. I see now.”
Rory clears his throat, “I don’t… that’s not—”
