Page 10 of Dancing with a Ghost

The caterers had everything in hand, serving fish and chips to those that wanted them. Most of the evening party goers were happy to indulge, and I had to admit, the smell of the food was making my stomach do funny things. Now I thought about it. I’d eaten nothing all day apart from a small breakfast earlier on.

It wasn’t the done thing for the Event Planner to be seen dipping into the food, so I left my perch at the bar, making my way to the kitchen. I could grab some food from there and no one would know.

Strangely, the kitchen was empty when I entered, but I noticed that a lot of the equipment they’d brought with them had disappeared. No doubt they were taking them out to their van, ready to go home.

“Hello! Anyone here?” I shouted, hoping someone was around to give me some food.

“Erm, yes, hang on.” The chef that had earlier been brandishing a knife appeared from the back of the huge fridges we had in the kitchen, straightening his whites. “What can I get you?”

“Any food left? I’m starving.” I asked, a grumble from my stomach letting him know just how hungry I was.

He seemed flustered, but I thought nothing of it until the guy he’d been threatening earlier appeared from the same place he’d just come from, looking awfully flushed, his lips swollen.

I raised an eyebrow but said nothing. It was none of my damn business, but they were here to work, not make out.

“Sorry, we were just, erm….” The chef said, fussing with some utensils, packing them away in a box.

“I get it and if you find me some of the fish and chips you’ve been serving, I’ll say no more about it.”

“Sure thing.” He looked relieved, as did the band member, and he got to serving me a plateful of food.

I sat at the counter, tucking in. It was delicious, and I hadn’t realised quite how hungry I was. The chef hovered, though, watching. I wondered what he wanted.

I swallowed my last mouthful, wiping my mouth on a napkin before looking at him.

“What can I do for you?” I took a sip of the drink I'd brought with me.

“That guy with the pineapple shirt, I just thought you should know that he’s been stealing stuff from the tables, cutlery and the like. He was laughing about it with his friends, they were encouraging him. Just thought I should say something."

Fuck my life. Why was it always him? I'd a mind to ask the manager to take care of it but I wouldn't hear the last of it if mother found out I hadn't addressed it.

"Do you know where he's been putting it?" His shorts were that tight, there was no way he could fit anything in the pockets. I remembered the bag he'd been carrying, assuming he was stashing it. He'd never done that before, to my knowledge, but then we'd spent a lot of our time in bed, not going out to fancy hotels or restaurants. It was a relationship formed out of lust, not love, as evidenced when he dumped me.

I threw the napkin on the counter as the chef cleared away my plate. There was no time like the present.

The dance floor was full, the party now in full swing and everyone appeared to be having a good time. I searched the crowd for him, spying him over by the bar, waiting to be served.

"Aaron, can I have a word, please?" I stepped up behind him, speaking quietly, touching his elbow.

"What do you want, Toby?" His words were slurred, his eyes glassy. Clearly, he'd had more than enough to drink. I'd seen drunk Aaron before. He was mouthy and pushy when he'd had a drink, but I couldn't let this go unaddressed.

"Let's just go over here, away from everyone else." I steered him into a little used alcove, gesturing for a member of staff to join me. If I was going to accuse him, I needed a witness to what I said. I didn't trust this prick as far as I could throw him.

He had his bag with him, so this at least made things easier.

"Would you mind if I took a quick look in your bag, Aaron? A member of staff noticed you putting a few things in there that aren't yours." I didn't know how to approach this with him. He was drunk, loud and belligerent, but as he clutched his bag to his chest, I could hear the telltale chink of glassware and cutlery.

"Just because you don't like me, Toby. No need to accuse me of stealing." He swayed as he spoke, looking a little pale.

"Look, if it's no problem and your bag is empty, we've nothing to worry about and you can go right back to the party."

I'd had enough of him today and I stepped back, letting the other manager take over.

By now, though, Tabitha had come over, a questioning look on her face.

"Everything okay here?" She asked.

"It's fine, Tabitha. Go back and enjoy the party." I smiled at her, steering her away from Aaron, but he just had to have the last word.

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