He scowled as he came to claim it back. “Don’t be so fucking childish. I need that.”
“You’re the one who’s being childish,” I said. “I didn’t fuck you. So what? I was tired, I had blisters on my feet, and I was in bed. This is ridiculous, Andy. Fucking ridiculous. Maybe I did want to fuck you. Maybe I would have done, if you hadn’t been such a fucking prick about the whole thing. You could’ve just asked again. A different night, but that would have been too reasonable, wouldn’t it? Too easy?”
“Have you finished? You think this is all because you said no to sex? Do I look like some kind of desperado to you?”
“Isn’t it?”
“No, of course not. I was drunk. You made the right call.”
“I made a tired call.”
“You said you’d work bar, you’re working bar.” He stole the phone back. “That’s what we agreed. That’s what you agreed.”
“Not like this!” I hissed. “Pulling pints while you ignore me 24/7.”
“And what did you expect it to be like? Us holding hands and skipping about the place like nothing ever happened? This isn’t the fucking Waltons. Get back to the bar, Faye, do your fucking job.”
I folded my arms. “My job is here.”
“We played for it, you lost. A deal’s a deal.”
“So, we play again.”
“Nice try.”
“Don’t do this.” I slammed my palms on the desk. “I’m good at what I do, that’s why we went into business. I know what I’m talking about. I have ideas, good creative ideas. Don’t fucking ignore me, Andy. I won’t be fucking ignored!”
“Drink delivery arrives midday. You can rearrange the spirits. Get as creative as you fucking like.”
“I’m not arranging the fucking spirits! I’m not leaving this room. It’s my office, too!”
He tugged the desk away from me, angling it back towards the corner until I slapped his hands and attacked his fingers. “Stop it, Faye. You’re making a fool of yourself.” I fought him like a kid, clinging onto the desk leg like a limpet, holding tight as he tried to shove it back where it came from. I gave it up with a sigh, yanking his tie in frustration so hard it almost toppled him off balance. “What the hell’s got into you?”
The messages on my phone, Andy. Ten of them in a row. Ten messages from him, all this morning. Begging, pleading, promising. But I don’t want to go back there, I need something to cling onto, a reason for staying.
I gave up the fight, flopping back in my chair. “Nothing, Andy. Just nothing.”
“Faye? What the hell’s this about?”
“You,” I lied. “It’s about you. The way you treat me like a second class citizen. The way you ignore me.”
“I treat you just like anyone else.”
I scowled to hide the upset. “But I’m not just anyone else. I’m your business partner.”
“Who walked away three years ago. You walked. Don’t preach to me about being ignored, Faye, you’ve got a fucking cheek.”
“Yes, yes, yes. I fucking walked. And then I walked back.” I picked up a biro from the floor, twirled it in my fingers, round and round. It took him by surprise when I launched it at the wall. It spotted black ink across the magnolia, and Andy’s face looked like I’d given him a slap. “I’m done. I’ll call a lawyer, we’ll get this sorted properly.”
He folded his arms, blocked my path before I’d even shifted. “That’s absurd. It’ll cost a fucking fortune, drag us both through a load of shit that I quite frankly don’t have time for.”
“I just want a desk, and a phone and a fucking desk tidy... Is that too much to ask?”
“It wouldn’t work. I don’t share.” He straightened his tie, adjusted his collar. Checked himself out in the mirror on the far wall. “We’d argue day and night over fucking paperclips.”
“How about we just take it in turns?” I looked up at him, and my eyes were welling, I could feel it. Too fragile, much too fragile. “Think back to when we started, to all the ideas we had. All the ideas I had. You used to like them, you used to listen.”
“That was a long fucking time ago.”
“You remember, though?”
“Of course I remember. I remember everything. I’m the one who stayed.”
“You wouldn’t even need to be here when it was my go. Take some time off, go on holiday. I can handle the place, I swear.”
His eyes were hostile. “I’ve been here seven days a week since we opened. Every day, Faye. Every. Single. Day. You think I’m just going to abandon ship because you want to play Club Manager? Not pissing likely. What’s going to happen when you get bored and flit off again?”