‘You don’t need to sound so happy about it.’ The bartender smiled at him. Ryan leaned forward to check out his name.
‘Sorry, Mike, I’ve just got a lot on my mind.’
‘I can tell.’ Mike folded the cloth up and stashed it beneath the counter. ‘You have that look on your face.’
‘What look?’ Ryan frowned, and took another glance at himself in the mirror behind the bar.
‘That one.’ The bartender nodded at him. ‘Don’t worry, I see it a lot.’
‘You do?’ Ryan’s frown deepened. What did that mean?
A couple sat down on two stools at the far end of the bar. Mike walked over to them to take their order, then poured out two glasses of red wine. By the time he came back, Ryan had finished his second beer. He turned down the offer of a third.
‘You must see a lot of people come through this place,’ Ryan said. ‘It has to be great for people watching.’ He wasn’t sure why he was still talking to the guy. All he knew was it beat having to listen to his own thoughts.
‘Sure do. A whole host of them.’ He shrugged. ‘But when it comes down to it, there are only two kinds of people.’
‘There are?’ Ryan leaned forward, his elbows on the bar. He couldn’t help but be intrigued. ‘What are they?’
The bartender leaned on the counter in front of him, mirroring Ryan’s stance. ‘There are the people heading towards a better place, and there are the people running away from it.’
Ryan laughed. ‘And that’s it. What about the people who are just going on vacation? Aren’t they doing a little bit of both?’
‘Not in my experience.’ Mike shrugged. ‘Working in this job, I overhear a lot of conversations, whether I want to or not, and I’ve not heard one yet that doesn’t fit into one category or the other. That guy over there, for instance.’ He nodded at a man sitting in the corner of the lounge, his phone to his ear as he typed on his keyboard. ‘I see him every week. Sometimes he brings his wife with him, and sometimes he travels alone. When he travels on his own, he arranges for a little bit of company to take care of him at night.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘He told me. You’d be surprised how many people let things slip to me. It’s not like I’m going to tell anybody, is it?’ The man gave him a wry grin. ‘Apart from you, that is. Anyway, he’s constantly on the lookout for something better, but the fact is, his something better has been at home all the time. What he doesn’t realise is the only person he’s trying to run away from is himself.’
‘What about me? Which camp am I in?’ Ryan looked at him with interest.
The bartender looked him up and down, his eyes narrowed as though he was taking everything in. ‘You haven’t said a lot, which makes you harder to read. But judging from the red veins in your eyes and your hangdog expression, I’d say you’re a runner, too.’
‘That’s where you’re wrong. I’m flying to New York on business.’
‘Sure you are.’
‘I’ve got a whole new life ahead of me.’ Ryan had no idea why he was trying to justify himself. ‘And it’s going to be great. What’s better than living it up in the Big Apple?’
Grabbing a glass from the sink, the bartender picked up a towel and began to dry it. ‘If that’s really the case, then tell me what are you doing hanging around here with a face like thunder? If you were really excited about your future, then you wouldn’t feel the need to justify yourself.’ He shrugged. ‘Sorry, man, but when I look at you I see a runner.’
Ryan looked at himself in the mirror again, not liking what he saw staring back at him. For the first time, he could see himself the way the bartender described.
He was a runner.
A runner.
And he was running away from the best thing that ever happened to him.
Twenty minutes later he was on the sidewalk outside of the airport, tapping his foot on the paving slabs as he waited in line for a cab. He jabbed his fingers on his cell phone to pull up her number. As soon as the call connected it went straight to voicemail. He held the phone to his ear as her sweet voice echoed through him. She wasn’t available to answer his call. Please could he leave a message?
He swallowed hard. What message could he leave? It wasn’t possible to fit into a few sentences the way he was feeling right then. He was an idiot, maybe he should tell her that. But she probably knew that already.
‘London, can you call me back when you get this?’ He winced at his words, before he pressed his screen to disconnect. Of course she wasn’t going to return his call. The last time they spoke he’d told her she meant nothing to him.
He’d lied, and no doubt she’d bel
ieved him. After all, he’d almost believed himself.