Come Find Me

I Wish you Were Here

James

"Dude, that chick is fucking hot. Punching above your weight you are!" Dave chuckles as he takes a swig of his whiskey on ice, our third glass within an hour. I know I should start taking it easy on my booze consumption, especially since these headaches haven't subsided in weeks. It is the only way I know how to unwind these days, my head is in a real fucked up and stressed state. I'm doing three people's jobs on a daily basis because of the lack of staff and as a result, my romantic and personal life is in tatters.

"She is, right? Damn, if she saw me in real life I know she would be running for the hills," I grin, taking my phone back from him. I glance down at her most recent picture that she uploaded to her account. She is in a night club setting, wearing a leopard print dress that hugs all of her curves in the right places. Her hair is straight and reaches just below her collarbone, her brown eyes are sparkling with an obvious mischief, which is typical Karen.

We met on Tinder back in October and the connection I felt with her was so instantaneous and electric, forget the fact that she is drop dead gorgeous, she is an intellectual too. I can talk to her about absolutely anything. Work, the issues I have with my ex-wife and Kayleigh, our daughter. The true love of my life, who I haven't seen in two years, since her mother uprooted them both to America from London. With Karen I can just be me, boring James from Brighton and she seems to accept me as I am. I don't really understand why as I know that she is way out of my league, however, my profile picture on Tinder wasn't exactly taken recently. If we ever do find the time to see each other within the 69 mile distance, I am shitting myself knowing how much of a muppet I will be around this sexy and enigmatic woman.

"James, we need you to cover Cindy tonight," Dad calls from his office with a raspy cough.

"I am just about to finish, I've been here since 7am. Can't you call one of the relief guys?" I huff, raising my glass to my lips.

"Sorry son, we can't afford to call anyone else in. After all the money we lost last week because of your stupid idea to change the internet provider," my father finally emerges from where he plops himself all day like the martyr that he is.

I turn to face him giving Dave an apologetic look as a signal for him to make himself scarce.

"Fine, whatever you say," I shrug, shaking the glass and the rest of its contents into my mouth. The hazelnut hitting the back of my throat, sending an almost electrical current to my head.

"Good, now tomorrow morning we need to have a talk about Christmas and New Years. The rotas need to be organised properly," he replies, taking the bottle of Jack Daniels from my side and returns it to its original place next to the Johnnie Walker label.

I'm mentally preparing myself to work this Christmas as I have done for the last seven years since myself and my dad took over this bar. We built it up from nothing, the former landlord was a Coke head, who ended up in prison for dealing drugs. I am in no way conceited, but we have turned this place into something really special. The regulars we have are like family, a community that really comes together when the shit hits the fan. However, the major down side to it is everyone knows everything and anything about each other. I try to avoid getting tangled up in amongst the bullshit of village gossip, it somehow always seems to find and trap me though.

As dad scurries back to his throne, I pick up my phone, making sure no one is within eyeshot.

"Hey you! Do you think you will be free for a phone call later? I need to hear that voice from the YouTube advert again...xx"