He turned the laptop again in my direction, my sad eyes haunting me across the fucking room. I looked away, busying myself with the rest of the mail.
“What was going on when this was taken?”
“Nothing.” I laid out the membership ID photocopies, the invoices, too.
“Don’t try and make a dick out of me. Breezing back in like nothing ever happened might seem like the best option to you, but I want to know what I’m fucking dealing with here.”
My hackles rose. “Piss off, Andy.You’redealing with nothing. I’m back, end of conversation.”
“And what areyoudealing with? Pissing hell, Faye, just talk to me, will you?”
I dropped the empty envelopes in the bin before I met his eyes. “No.”
“No? Just fucking no?”
“Justfucking no.Drop it, please.”
He folded his arms, leaned back in his chair. “You can’t have it all ways. You want to come back here like nothing’s happened, you want your cosy little desk back next to mine, you want to play your little games in the playroom. All that comes at a price, Faye.Iwant honesty.Iwant commitment.Iwant some fucking answers.”
“AndIwant to get on with runningmyclub. Thanks for the desk, but it really doesn’t buy you a free pass to Faye Devere’s life history, break up 101. I’m not that cheap or that fucking generous.”
And with that I’d offended him. Again. His walls came up, lips pressed tight as he angled his chair back away from me. “That’s fucking gratitude for you.”
“I shouldn’t have to be grateful for being allowed into my own club.” I waved the membership IDs in the air. “Where do these go?”
“It’syourclub. You should fucking know.” His screen switched to email, and he typed away to some supplier or another. Ignorant prick.
I rooted through drawers until I found the correct file, fighting back the urge to fist pump in victory. I could fit back in here, with or without Andy Morgan’s precious permission.
Telling him so landed me back on bar duty, but it was worth it.
Roll on fucking Saturday, and the next bastard coin toss.
***
“He cares,” Topaz said, handing me another batch of juices for the fridge.
“He’s a control freak. Knowledge is power,” I replied.
“That, too.” She kicked the empty box aside and opened another. “But he cares. You didn’t see his face when he first saw that cover.”
“I can imagine,” I scoffed. “Don’t want to create a spectacle now, do we? Have people talking? That will never do.”
She frowned, and I felt surprisingly bad. “It wasn’t like that. I think you’re being harsh.”
“I’m not the one making him beg to help out in his own club.”
And he’s not the one who walked away for three years straight.Topaz didn’t say it, but her expression did. She had one of those faces, one you can read a mile off. I suspected it would make her truly beautiful in the throes of orgasm.
She stared at the bottles and not at me. “I’m sorry about the cover. I should’ve spoken to you before I showed him.”
I could hardly hold it against her. “You’ve known him a long time, you don’t have to apologise for loyalty.” I smiled. “Really, it’s ok. He’d have seen it sooner or later.”
“Later, probably. He’s not much of a reader.” A smirk lit up her eyes. “Can you imagine him reading them? The Magpie books, I mean.”
The thought gave me shivers. “He hasn’t got the attention span. He can’t even read his own horoscope without getting bored halfway through.”
“Just as well, eh? The things you get up to. I mean Magpie. Not you.” She laughed, a nervous laugh. “She is you, isn’t she?”