My dear Charlie only has eyes for Gary Barlow, he of Take That mega-fame. She’s been a serious fangirl since they first came on the music scene. No other nineties band will fit the bill. You can keep your Wet Wet Wet and your Westlife, thank you very much. Whenever you get in Charlie’s car or go to her flat, the hit tunes of Gary and the lads are blasting out. She follows Gary to gigs all over the country but, in certain circles, isn’t considered a truly hardcore fan as she’s never travelled abroad to see him. Mainly due to lack of funds rather than lack of inclination. I think, if she could, she’d go to the ends of the earth for Mr Barlow. She has a cardboard cut-out of him in her living room. The first time I went back to her place, late at night, he scared the bejaysus out of me. I thought she was being burgled. She’s the only person I know who looks forward to the beginning of every month simply because she gets to turn over a new Gary on her calendar. She can’t wait for August because he’s doing a yoga pose wearing very small black shorts.
‘I’ve got to shoot off sharply when I’m done.’ Charlie gets a tray and starts tidying the nearby tables while I scan the bookings for this evening. Tonight’s steak night, which is always popular. Two steaks and a bottle of decent red for forty quid. ‘I’m seeing the Take That tribute band tonight. Take Off.’
See? Total fangirl.
We both launch into the first few lines of ‘Could it be Magic’. In my short time here, I’ve been tutored well. ‘I’d forgotten it was tonight.’
‘Shame you couldn’t come. It’s a good crack.’
‘I would have loved to. I couldn’t get anyone to swap shift.’
‘You need to be on your toes later.’ She pauses, cloth in hand. ‘Our dear lord and master is in da houzz. Apparently.’
‘Mason Soames?’
‘The one and only.’
Wow. This is my Big Boss. The one I’ve yet to meet, despite having been here for two months already. ‘What’s he like?’
‘A twat,’ she says. ‘But a handsome twat. He looks a bit like that movie star bloke – Tom HigglePiggleBum.’
‘I know he’s supposed to be my boss, but I haven’t met him yet.’
‘That’s because he’s never around.’
‘Why is that?’
Charlie shrugs. ‘I guess being the owner’s son bestows on him a certain amount of largesse. If he was in any other business he’d probably be given the boot.’ My friend rolls her eyes. ‘He’s supposed to be our Events Director yet he seems to spend most of his time in Klosters or Monaco or somewhere. Nice work if you can get it.’ More eye-rolling.
‘What does he actually do?’
‘Do? Good question. Mostly he turns up in his Aston Martin and gets on everyone’s tits. That’s what he does. Whenever we have an event, Jay and I organise it. Shagger generally sweeps in when it’s all sorted and takes the glory.’
I laugh. ‘I still can’t believe you all call him that.’
‘Not to his face, obvs.’ Charlie laughs too. ‘That’s probably a sackable offence. Still, you’ll know why when you do meet him. He’s a smooth sod. He’s probably tried it on with every single female that comes through those doors. I don’t think he can help himself.’
I shake my head, dismayed. ‘Now I really can’t wait to make his acquaintance.’
‘Don’t take your eyes off his hands or they’ll be down your pants before you know it.’
‘Thanks for the warning.’ A lecherous boss. Lovely. Just when it was all going so well.
Chapter Five
I make sure that everything’s spick and span in the restaurant. I smile brightly at the customers as I greet them at the desk and bustle about all evening being generally efficient and bright. Before I get a chance to turn around, it’s eleven o’clock and the last of the stragglers are leaving as I’m wiping down the tables. It’s at that point when Mason Soames finally rocks up.
He needs no introduction. Instantly, I can tell it’s him. A throaty engine and a shower of gravel in the car park announces his arrival. I glance out of the window and there’s some slick silver beast in one of the reserved parking spots. A moment later the door swings open and a vision in a light grey suit strides in. Charlie’s right – he does, indeed, favour Tom Hiddleston. He’s tall, over six feet, lean and more handsome than is good for a man. As Charlie pointed out, he is, no doubt, a smoothie but she hadn’t managed to convey quite how good-looking he is. His fair hair, with just a hint of curl, is swept back but he runs his fingers through it as he comes through the door nevertheless. His features are fine, almost delicate, his skin lightly tanned. Mason Soames carries himself with the air of a man who never has to try too hard. He’s certainly quite classy – even given some of the posh stuff we get in the restaurant. I bet he’d look fabulous in a tuxedo.
I’m standing with a pile of menus in my hand and become aware that I’m staring. Our eyes meet and he smiles widely at me. I try to recover my composure as I give him a professional smile back.
‘Hi. I’m Mason.’ His gaze is steady, searching when he extends a hand to shake mine. ‘You must be … er …’
‘Ruby,’ I supply. ‘Ruby Brown. Your new waitress. Well, new-ish.’ I might not have met the boss yet, but I already feel like part of the furniture.
‘Ah. Right. Yes. Of course.’
‘I’ve been here for two months now.’
‘Right. And I haven’t.’ He’s still beaming at me and his smile is quite disarming. ‘I’ve been skiing for the season.’
‘Why wouldn’t you?’ I say.
‘But now I’m back.’ He claps his hands together. ‘Is Jay around?’
‘No. Night off. I’m in charge.’
‘Fine. You’re the very person I need then. Why don’t we shut up shop together and you can tell me what’s been going on here while I’ve been away?’
I don’t point out to Mason that it’s nearly my home time and maybe he should have come in a bit earlier for this chat. Still, there are just two tables left to leave and one party is getting their coats on already, so I won’t be long. The couple in the corner are so wrapped up in each other that they might get down and dirty on the table and I don’t want to be wiping up after that. I think I’ll take their bill over to them.
‘Give me another ten minutes to finish up here and then I’m all yours.’
Mason raises an eyebrow.
That came out wrong.
Flustered, I tap in the bill for the happy couple and hurry it over, interrupting their footsie. They take the hint, pay up and leave. I lock the door behind them, clear their table and turn off the lights in the restaurant. When I go through to the bar, Mason has dimmed the lights in there and is standing behind the counter. He’s taken off his suit jacket and has rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, showing off tanned arms with a down of blond hair.
‘What’s your poison?’ he says, leaning on the bar and fixing me with eyes that are the colour of summer sky – now that I come to look. They glint at me even in the low light. Always beware of a man with twinkly eyes. Charlie has told me as much.
‘Diet Coke, please. I’m driving.’
‘Ha. Me too. I’m making myself an espresso,’ he says. ‘I’ve a party to go to later and need something to put some life into my bones.’
‘Later?’ I laugh. ‘I like your style. It’s a long time since I went to a party that started after half past seven.’
‘Join me? The more the merrier. It’s just a small gathering.’
‘I’d better not.’ What on earth would I have in common with Mason Soames and his posh friends?
‘A coffee, then? I’m a wizard with this machine.’ He certainly moves around it like he knows what he’s doing.
‘Just the cola, thanks. If I have coffee, I’ll be buzzing until dawn.’
‘That’s exactly why I want it.’