“Explicit’s not a baby, Faye. It grew up. It’s now a fucking teenager who doesn’t remember who the hell you are. You bailed. We’re a one-parent family now.”
“I was always coming back.”
“Sure you were.” His tone was clipped but familiar. So familiar. “Three days, you said... a week, tops...”
“I know what I said.” I dropped into the chair opposite him, and he pulled the paperwork away as I strained to look.
“Then three weeks... a couple of fucking months.”
“I know; it’s been a long time.”
His eyes were like daggers. “You know how long you were here before you bailed? Eleven months. You didn’t even make a year. I toasted Explicit’s first birthday, alone.”
“We’d done the hard bit...” My eyes scouted the office, the new cabinets, the swanky new desk. “You’ve done well. No harm done.”
The years had been kind to Andy Morgan. His hair looked darker, more mahogany than chestnut. It brought out his eyes. Hazel danced with angry flecks of green.
“Do you know what was harder than year one of a new club venture, Faye? Year two. Year two was a fucking nightmare. Stabilising the club, refurbishing the bathrooms, organising vetting procedures and membership practices, and insurance. Miles and miles of red fucking tape.”
“You did great... the place looks great...”
“What the fuck are you doing back here?”
I’m running home. For fuck’s sake, Andy, let me hang tight here.
“London calling. I just want back into the place I helped build. I’m allowed to be interested, aren’t I? We’re fifty-fifty, after all.”
He reached in his desk drawer and took out a wedge of paperwork, then stood from the desk to go rooting for more. He was thicker set these days, rippling under a tailored suit. His ass looked firmer. The gym, maybe. He flicked through the filing cabinet, pulling out papers with an angry flourish. Then he slammed them down in front of me.
Insurance renewal forms. Loads of them. Bureaucratic and complicated. In short, a nightmare.
“You’d better start earning your fifty, then.” A tap at the door and Topaz joined us. She hovered like a fluffy green pigeon, eyes flicking from him to me. He pointed a finger in my direction. “That’s Faye. She’s come back to claim her piece of the pie. Any issues, problems, vomit to clean up, you go to her.”
I managed a laugh. “Yeah, I’ll take over just as soon as I’ve finished this paperwork nightmare, shall I? How about next year?”
His eyes narrowed. “Welcome to my world.” He threw me a pen. “You’d best get a move on, we open at ten.”
***
He watched me struggle for well over an hour. His body was angled towards his laptop screen, but his eyes were on me. I pretended I didn’t notice, arranging the papers in neat little piles, as though I knew what the hell I was doing. I didn’t know what I was doing. Hadn’t a pissing clue, reading the same papers over and over like it would make it any clearer. Maybe Club Explicit had become a tougher beast to manage than I’d given it credit for.
Like I’d really ever thought about it.
Eventually he stopped pretending to type. “Finished yet, partner?”
Pride answered for me. “Should be done in a jiffy.”
“Sure you will.”
I met his eyes, amassing words that should have been spoken a long time sooner. Maybe even the dregs of an explanation. Half an explanation. The phone ringing broke the tension before I could speak, the trill sounding right through the building.
I waited for him to answer, but instead he shoved the handset in my direction. I rolled my eyes at him as I picked up.
“Club Explicit, Faye speaking.”
I floundered around for a pad, be damned if I was passing the call onto him. Saffron, food poisoning, won’t be in. I hung up with a thanks for letting us know. Us know.
“That was Saffron, said she won’t be in this evening.”
“Better get cover, then.”
“You’re seriously going to be like this? It’s a bit pissing childish.” I folded my arms.
“Filing cabinet in the corner. Top drawer. Find a replacement.”
“Jesus Christ, Andy.” The file was full of names I didn’t recognise. My stomach churned as reality struck. As if I could just walk back in like nothing had happened. Tears pricked. Stupid tears. I coughed them back before I returned to my seat, poring over names and photos and job titles until I found a potential. I lifted the handset, began to dial, but he reached over for the call end button before it connected.
“You can’t come back, Faye. Power share never works. I’m in charge here now.”