He'll have to break all the rules to keep her, but first she has to break just one and let him in...
It's taken four years, but Anna Fray has finally put the past behind her. Mostly. She fills her days working in a bar and her nights watching bad ro...
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Later in the break room, I propped my aching feet up on the coffee table as I sipped the rich black coffee. It was one of the perks of working here: an unlimited supply of velvety caffeinated heaven. Kelly often joked I'd drank so much black coffee it was starting to show. Perhaps on some level she was right. It was the tone of my hair and the colour of my nail varnish. There was part of me hoping one day I'd be lucky enough for it to turn my milky skin the lovely colour of latte. Unlikely, but a girl could dream. In the meantime, I gulped it down because it was the best remedy for a mid-afternoon slump.
The door of the break room swung open as Kelly came through with her own steaming cup and a stack of receipts.
"Made anyone cry yet?" she asked with a grin as she tried to manoeuvre herself through the office door.
"Sadly no, but my shift's not over yet," I said brightly with a wink. She bounced the door open with her hip, careful not to spill a drop from her jumbo-sized mug.
I heard her chuckle as the door closed behind her because we both knew I could be many things: tactless, restless, listless, but I was never heartless. Not really. Not to say I wasn't relentless when aggravated, but then again what's that saying? If you mess with the bull you get the horns.
I downed the remainder of the cup and heaved myself off the sofa, stretching my hands above my head as I walked back down the stairs to the bar. Hours of being on my feet had left my back knotted and stiff, but as I stretched, I could feel the muscles unravelling with the movement.
The bar was almost empty except for a man and his laptop at the tall bench by the window, and a trio of boys sprawled across the oversized sofas under the stairs.
I liked this time of day the least. There was still enough to do to finish off the shift, but not quite enough to keep me busy. Most of the time I found myself restlessly finding jobs to fill my time. Emma was like me, she came here to work and occupy her mind, and as a result she rarely sat still. Even now, minutes before her shift was due to end, I could see her rearranging chairs. Grouping the large chesterfields around squat wooden coffee tables, or neatly pushing stools under thick topped tables.
A quick glance up, past the students to the mezzanine floor, saw Callum's feet poking off the end of one of the ruby red booths. He didn't share the same motivation as Emma and I, choosing most days to disappear to the mezzanine to nap away the last hour or two of his shift as soon as Kelly disappeared to the office. He wasn't lazy, far from it. For six hours out of the eight he'd pull his weight and then some. For that reason alone, we turned a blind eye for the final two. Today he'd been especially active, but when the boy with the book had left a couple of hours ago, he'd taken Callum's productivity with him.
I clocked the time and picked up one of the cloths under the sink.
"Emma, get out of here. You were finished five minutes ago."
"I'm almost done," she called as she struggled to shift one of the large leather armchairs. She wasn't built for manual labour. She looked like she'd be more comfortable on a catwalk, with her long, willowy limbs and delicate, feminine features, but her urge to help meant she pushed herself past her limits.
