bugger, you know. He's meant to be laying off this stuff.' Marcus tapped his chest. 'Blood pressure and all that.'
'Oh.' Dave's brain slowly whirled searching for a more appropriate answer but fortunately Marcus broke the momentary awkwardness.
He put the bottle back in place.
'Ah, let the bastard have his fun, yeah? One more bottle ain't gonna hurt him.' Marcus hunkered down and leaned across the bar. 'So what lies was he telling about me?' He asked, catching Dave completely off balance.
'I–' Dave flushed.
'Nah, I'm just messing with you. He's a crafty old fox though. Take what he says with a grain of salt, mate. Talks a lot of shit.'
'Really?' Dave couldn't resist a little grin. 'Funny cause he was actually saying how nice it was to have you helping out.'
'Oh... Really?' Marcus glanced over toward the drop-sheet that Bruno had disappeared behind, the tone of his voice totally changing, growing softer as he nodded a couple of times. 'Well there you go.' Marcus seemed genuinely happy; something that left Dave feeling just as awkward as the earlier anger had. 'Yeah, for all the faults and the occasionally absurd way he goes about things, I think he might be onto something here. With this hotel, you know. Don't let him know I said that though. Got a big enough head as it is. Still, this place is gonna be alright, I think. Yeah, I think it'll be okay.' Marcus nodded, still smiling and then pushed the bottle across to Dave.
'Drink. It'll stop the old man doing it, yeah?' he said and then wandered back up the other end of the bar.
10.
Dave couldn't wipe the smile from his face. As the door swung wide and he stumbled into his room, the keys cluttering to the floor in his wake, Dave felt his grin spreading wider and wider.
Though he'd done his best to pace himself, he'd still put away his fair share of the four bottles that Bruno had cracked throughout the night. It'd left him feeling more than a little rosy cheeked.
Easy does it, he thought as he stumbled and almost went sprawling across the floor. He stifled a giggle while he righted himself and headed toward where his duffel bag was propped in the corner. He'd already laughed so much that night that his jaw ached. Bruno had been in fine form down at the bar. Regaling the gathering crowd with tales of his previous life working his way up through the rungs of a courier company. The tales of inappropriate greetings and horrifying mix-ups with packages had grown louder and more risqué as they'd ploughed through their wine. By the end, Dave had been gasping for breath, unable to remember the last time he'd laughed so hard.
A good evening, he mused. When he'd turned into the car park the day before, Dave had not imagined he'd be enjoying himself so much. Already he was looking forward to the next evening. And I haven't even thought about Naomi once–
Dave instantly regretted the thought as it triggered a cavalcade of images in his head. As always they culminated in the one enduring picture: her face twisted in rage, like it had been as she spat: you're a poisonous person.
In his head her voice made a reappearance: Drunk again, David? How very surprising...
Dave shook his head to clear the thoughts but the damage was already done. He felt his good mood deflate as he dropped to his knees by his duffel bag. On the hunt for a fresh pack of smokes so he could have one last cigarette before bed. Dave fumbled with the zip, unwisely choosing to drag his mobile free from his pocket at the same time and only ended up taking twice as long to do either. Dave hesitated for a second before flipping up the top of his phone dreading the empty screen that would signal no new messages. Dreading how it would add a little more to the growing certainty that this time Naomi was never going to forgive him.
He was saved by a dead battery though and, after retrieving his smokes and placing them on the floor, he dug around a little more, searching out his charger. Might as well get it on
'Oh.' Dave's brain slowly whirled searching for a more appropriate answer but fortunately Marcus broke the momentary awkwardness.
He put the bottle back in place.
'Ah, let the bastard have his fun, yeah? One more bottle ain't gonna hurt him.' Marcus hunkered down and leaned across the bar. 'So what lies was he telling about me?' He asked, catching Dave completely off balance.
'I–' Dave flushed.
'Nah, I'm just messing with you. He's a crafty old fox though. Take what he says with a grain of salt, mate. Talks a lot of shit.'
'Really?' Dave couldn't resist a little grin. 'Funny cause he was actually saying how nice it was to have you helping out.'
'Oh... Really?' Marcus glanced over toward the drop-sheet that Bruno had disappeared behind, the tone of his voice totally changing, growing softer as he nodded a couple of times. 'Well there you go.' Marcus seemed genuinely happy; something that left Dave feeling just as awkward as the earlier anger had. 'Yeah, for all the faults and the occasionally absurd way he goes about things, I think he might be onto something here. With this hotel, you know. Don't let him know I said that though. Got a big enough head as it is. Still, this place is gonna be alright, I think. Yeah, I think it'll be okay.' Marcus nodded, still smiling and then pushed the bottle across to Dave.
'Drink. It'll stop the old man doing it, yeah?' he said and then wandered back up the other end of the bar.
10.
Dave couldn't wipe the smile from his face. As the door swung wide and he stumbled into his room, the keys cluttering to the floor in his wake, Dave felt his grin spreading wider and wider.
Though he'd done his best to pace himself, he'd still put away his fair share of the four bottles that Bruno had cracked throughout the night. It'd left him feeling more than a little rosy cheeked.
Easy does it, he thought as he stumbled and almost went sprawling across the floor. He stifled a giggle while he righted himself and headed toward where his duffel bag was propped in the corner. He'd already laughed so much that night that his jaw ached. Bruno had been in fine form down at the bar. Regaling the gathering crowd with tales of his previous life working his way up through the rungs of a courier company. The tales of inappropriate greetings and horrifying mix-ups with packages had grown louder and more risqué as they'd ploughed through their wine. By the end, Dave had been gasping for breath, unable to remember the last time he'd laughed so hard.
A good evening, he mused. When he'd turned into the car park the day before, Dave had not imagined he'd be enjoying himself so much. Already he was looking forward to the next evening. And I haven't even thought about Naomi once–
Dave instantly regretted the thought as it triggered a cavalcade of images in his head. As always they culminated in the one enduring picture: her face twisted in rage, like it had been as she spat: you're a poisonous person.
In his head her voice made a reappearance: Drunk again, David? How very surprising...
Dave shook his head to clear the thoughts but the damage was already done. He felt his good mood deflate as he dropped to his knees by his duffel bag. On the hunt for a fresh pack of smokes so he could have one last cigarette before bed. Dave fumbled with the zip, unwisely choosing to drag his mobile free from his pocket at the same time and only ended up taking twice as long to do either. Dave hesitated for a second before flipping up the top of his phone dreading the empty screen that would signal no new messages. Dreading how it would add a little more to the growing certainty that this time Naomi was never going to forgive him.
He was saved by a dead battery though and, after retrieving his smokes and placing them on the floor, he dug around a little more, searching out his charger. Might as well get it on
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