Not Another Lonely Christmas Read online

  “I’m going to record it,” she says as if I should already know this.

  “No, you’re not.”

  “How else are people supposed to know what’s going on? You’re the one who took this to Flipped, besides, it’ll show people how not to romance you if this is a fail.”

  Rolling my eyes, I sigh and refrain from pushing my best friend in the river.

  “He looks slimy,” Michael grunts and pulls out his pack of cigarettes. “Go on, go do your thing, I’ll wait out here.”

  His eyes follow Gabs as her eyes are solely on her phone filming me. Taking a deep breath, I turn and take the first steps towards this upmost absurdly date I’ve found myself on.

  Jacob waits patiently, and I plant a smile on my face. I’m not sure why this isn’t genuine, but I keep it there. I’m excited for this, but my body isn’t in agreement.

  “Hi,” I murmur and then clear my throat to speak louder and clearer.

  “Wow, you look stunning,” he compliments and again, it doesn’t feel right.

  His attention flitters over my shoulder and I turn to see him watching Gabs recording us.

  “She’s filming for my page, you know, because I did this so publicly. Do you mind?”

  “Of course not. The people should see how it’s done.”

  “How what’s done?” I play with him.

  “How to ruin you for all dates that may come but hopefully don’t,” he grins with such confidence and offers his arm.

  I slide mine through his and he leads us onto the boat. In all my life, I’ve never been on a boat. I’ve wondered what it would be like on the water, and on this boat, it feels like I’m still on land.

  Glass is everywhere. Glass shelves, glass tables, glass statues of weird looking things and what looks like a glass couch. On further inspection, it’s really clear plastic and looks uncomfortable as hell. I can’t tell yet if I’m impressed or not.

  “This way, Mr Evans,” a young, pretty hostess directs us to the top deck where the place is twinkling. Candles are lit everywhere, and all the glass reflects a thousand more flames. It’s breath-taking.

  “We set up the table as you requested.”

  “Thank you.”

  The table she’s speaking of is the only table up here and the view out of the wall of full-length windows is one of the most beautiful views I’ve seen. I’ve seen this city every day of my life, all the bricks and cement, the fumes and the ugly, it’s a rare day when something like this view catches in your throat.

  This is very fancy, and I don’t have to look around for Gabriella to know she’s thinking the same as me; why the hell is he doing this?

  “It’s really quiet for a Saturday.”

  He laughs.

  “Miss Humphrey, it’s empty because it’s just for us. I paid to have the place to ourselves.”

  Again, why is he doing this? He obviously doesn’t need the money if he can afford this type of fanfare.

  He pulls out a chair for me and I take a seat, flicking my eyes over at Gabs. She cocks an eyebrow over her phone and I can tell she’s holding in a laugh, or a snort.

  “Are you rich?”

  I’ve caught him off guard, his head snaps up and his eyes widen a fraction.

  “I’m comfortable, why?”

  “Why are you doing this if you don’t need the money?” I ask with my own question.

  Champagne flutes are filled with golden bubbliness and then we’re left alone for our date.

  “Are you not romanced, Remi?”

  Always a question with a question with this guy.

  “You answer then I will,” I retort.

  “I’ll answer first because I already know your answer, and I set this up as I have a side bet for much more money with my friends than you’re offering. They all say I’m the Romeo of our group.”

  I should be offended, or at least, pissed. I’m not. I’m even a little bit surprised.

  “And which side of the bet do you stand?”

  “That I wouldn’t be able to romance you.”

  Taking another look around as the candles flicker and the water outside shimmers darkly on this cloudy afternoon, I sigh.

  “I’d say you can collect, you won. The candles are a nice touch, but this is showy, not romantic.”

  “Some would disagree, many women would love to have this treatment.”

  “Maybe it’s your attitude?”

  His laugh echoes around us and I ease up and sip my champagne.

  “You’re probably right, I’ve been told many times I come across arrogant.”

  I can imagine that quite easily. Now it’s my turn to laugh and I take another sip of the fancy bubbles.

  “I have a thing for arrogant arseholes, unlucky for you, I won’t be adding you to my list of bad choices.”

  “A list?” he grins, topping up my glass. “Sounds nasty.”

  “Why do you think I’m doing this? I’ve had enough of fuck boys like you.”

  Cocking an eyebrow, he doesn’t deny his motives and I relax even more. He’s your typical lad’s lad and banter is all he knows.

  “As we have this place to ourselves for another hour, why don’t we enjoy it?”

  “An hour? Wow, that romantic, ay?” I chuckle and sit forward. “Romance comes with a time frame?”

  “Hey, I knew I was going to bust out with you, why would I pay for more time. To be honest, I thought you’d be gone by now.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Okay, I didn’t really but hey, we’re both here, let’s enjoy the rest of our time while it’s ours.”

  He raises his hand and clicks his fingers, quite rudely, for assistance and the bartender walks over.

  How she keeps a straight face, I don’t know, I couldn’t deal with the likes of him every day.

  “Can we have your biggest bottle of tequila and four shot glasses.”

  “Four?” I question.

  “Your friends, they should join us. It’s not like this is a date, is it now.”

  This is turning into a party and there’s no need to call Gabriella over, she hears and invites herself over, typing away on her phone as she does.

  Michael joins us within a few minutes and Jacob is happy to play host. He pours four shots and passes them around the table. It turns out, Jacob Evans isn’t the great romancer his friends think he is, but he knows how to splash the drinks and make me laugh until my cheeks hurt.

  I remember we finished the bottle and called out for another, then sometime later, stumbling to the bathrooms and singing as I peed. Images of us singing as we were chucked off the boat hit me, oh wait, that’s now. Gabriella is as drunk as I am, I think, and she is still recording. Staring into the phone camera, I grin, or I think I grin, the drink has hit me hard.

  “Date one was romantically a fail, but we still had a good time, ay?”

  Stumbling into warm arms, it’s Jacob who holds me up. Winding my arm around his neck, he smells good, and then he’s gone.

  “It’s all good, I’ve got her from here,” I hear Michael say and then the ground disappears from under my feet.

  “Goodnight, Remi Humphrey,” is the last thing I hear before my night comes to an end.

  Chapter Five

  The shop lights hurt my eyes before I make it through the door. It doesn’t help that Gabriella has dragged out the Christmas decorations and hung the coloured lights all around the salon. How I got out of bed this morning, I still don’t know, but I’m here, I just can’t move fast or breathe too deeply, that’s how tender I still feel from Saturday. I googled if expensive tequila is stronger than cheaper tequila, because I haven’t felt this bad after drinking, two days later, since I was fifteen and Sara got me drunk on a mixture of vodka and wine. A combination I haven’t touched since that night.

  “You look like shit,” Gabs chuckles, looking up from the reception desk.

  “Cheers, love you too.”

  I hand over her coffee and take mine over to my w
ork station. It’s my job to bring coffee in the morning and I drain mine now, needing every drop.

  “Why do I still feel so bad?”

  I slept most of the day yesterday and when I wasn’t sleeping, I was drinking water and watching films in bed. I should be refreshed and feeling good, instead, I’m still hanging like I went out last night.

  “You’re getting old, this is what happens,” she laughs, leaning back on her chair.

  “Again, love you too.”

  Rolling my eyes, the bell over the door chimes as my first client arrives ten minutes early for her appointment and I’m glad for the distraction from my lingering hangover.

  “Hi, Mrs Bates, come and take a seat, I’ll be right with you,” I smile so brightly she’d never guess that I’m praying I don’t vomit over her. She’s preoccupied and sits quietly.

  Before I know it, I’m on my fourth coffee and third client and I’m feeling a lot better.

  Casey, a girl I’ve been cutting hair for since she was nine and is now fifteen is next to walk in and she looks far too happy. She’s in and out of foster homes in the area. My chair is empty, and she doesn’t bother waiting to be called over. She falls into my chair and makes herself comfortable.

  “I’ve been watching your page all weekend, Remi. You’re so famous now, and every guy wants to date you.”

  “Before we start, let me get another drink.”

  Her giggle is mischievous, and I brace myself for an hour of bombarding questions and interference.

  “She’s going to want to know everything,” Gabriella sing-songs under her breath and I shake my head, pouring another coffee. I add too much milk and way too much sugar and head back over to Casey.

  “How have you been?” I ask, pumping the lever under the chair to make it higher.

  “Not as good as you, Remi,” she grins as I wrap an apron around her.

  “I’m addicted to your page; all my friends are following you too.”

  “Wow, all your friends?” I cringe.

  “Yes, wow,” she laughs. “How were you not romanced by all those candles, they were beautiful.”

  “They were beautiful, but it wasn’t enough.”

  I hear myself saying this out loud and it hits me like a double decker bus how I’m casting my absurd needs out at her.

  “Not that it wasn’t a nice gesture, everyone is different. Don’t listen to what I think is good enough or not enough.”

  The last thing I need is for to have to deal with romantical issues when she’s older because nothing is ever good enough for her.

  “I would have fainted if someone went to all that trouble for me, I can’t wait to grow up and be rid of stupid boys.”

  Combing through her hair, I smile to myself as I inhale the sweet scent of strawberries and cream. I can’t do much to help Casey, but a free haircut and bundling her free shampoo and conditioner is something I can do. It was the little things that kept me going when I was younger, I know she’s appreciative.

  “Don’t be so quick to believe boys miraculously turn into princes from the slimy toads they are,” Gabriella adds in. “They just turn into slimy men.”

  “That’s why Remi’s searching for the one, I reckon the guy who is able to knock her over, romantically speaking, will be her prince, she won’t let him get away.”

  I cut in before they can dissect my love life any further and stare at Casey in the mirror.

  “If there is someone out there who can give me what I need, I hope I’ll find him in this lifetime. God knows I’ve kissed enough frogs. But, it’s not all about chasing love and men, you know, Casey.”

  Rolling her eyes, she takes advantage of me not cutting her hair and spins around in the chair.

  “You’re hardly chasing men, Remi. You’re making them chase you.”

  I’m pretty sure they’re chasing the money, but I keep my mouth closed and spin her chair back around so she’s facing the mirror.

  “All I’m saying is, don’t expect for everything and you won’t be disappointed, like our Remi.”

  Casey winks at me in the mirror and smirks before sliding her hand free from under the apron.

  In her hand is my phone. The little cowbag. I didn’t see her swipe it and she’s right under my nose.

  “How did you get your hands on that?”

  “Give me some credit, Rem.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I hold my hand out for her to pass it back. Instead, she passes it over to Gabs, who in turn, steps back from her client, out of my reach.

  “What are you up to?”

  “Gabriella, choose another date for her,” Casey orders her and she bloody does as she’s told.

  “Come on, guys. I’m still hungover from the last date.”

  “If you want to be romanced by Christmas, you don’t have time to waste. You can’t hang around.”

  Why am I standing here taking advice from a teenager? Shaking my head, I adjust her head so she’s looking straight on again and make it clear not to move.

  “What are you doing this Christmas? Do you know?” I ask her.

  She goes to shake her head, but I widen my eyes in warning to keep still.

  “As long as I’m not trouble for Maggie, I think I’ll still be around the corner.”

  “Make sure you come in over the school holidays, you can keep track on my sorry state of a life.”

  “Are you joking? You are amazing. I’ve told everyone you’re my friend,” she boasts proudly, and I’m almost choked up by her admission.

  Gabriella lets out a small squeal and I’m worried when I see her excitement at something on the screen.

  Then her smile drops and she’s frowning. Her mood changes so quickly, it’s tiring to keep up.

  “I thought I found someone sweet, but he’s a hobo,” she explains.

  “I doubt hobos would have the internet.”

  “Remi,” Casey scolds mockingly. “You’re offering twenty thousand pounds, Martians that can’t afford to feed their little alien babies have internet for that amount of money.”

  Ignoring her analogy, I grab my phone from Gabs and see for myself what she’s reading.

  Ross Walker, twenty-eight years old, dark hair, scruffy beard, not my usually type but I wouldn’t turn him away.

  “He’s a professional busker, Gabs. He’s hardly homeless,” I snort, rolling my own eyes for the tenth time today.

  My phone disappears from my hand and she apologises to her client as she takes the phone prisoner on the other side of the salon. Like I’m going to chase her around, I’m not ten.

  Casey chuckles and I tut, scowling at her.

  “You think this is funny?” I snap. “Guess who’s coming with us.”

  “Oh, my days, are you serious?”

  I wasn’t prepared for this amount of excitement. Pushing down on her shoulders, I sit her back in place and she laughs.

  “Text me when, where and I’m there.”

  “Let’s get your hair finished. You’re foster family will be wondering where you are.”

  “Hardly,” she snorts, and it tugs on my heart strings.

  Gabriella’s chuckles interrupt my heart break and I wonder what is amusing her.

  I finish up with Casey’s monthly trim and leave her to take her selfies.

  Gabriella hands my phone over looking pleased with herself and I lift my eyebrows, waiting for her to fill me in on what she’s done.

  “I messaged the hobo. You’re waiting on his reply.”

  “Again, he’s not a hobo, professional busker. Thank you.”

  Casey has finished taking her selfies and comes over as I fall onto the stool behind reception. She leans on the wooden ledge and smiles down at me.

  “Are you going to let me pay this time?” she asks.

  “Has Hell frozen over?” I retort not missing a beat.

  “No,” she drools out. “You do know I get an allowance to have my hair cut.”

  “Not on a monthly basis, you don’t. Keep the money, it�
��ll be our secret.”

  A part of me hopes she’s wise with it and stashes it away for when she’s older, and another part of me hopes she spends it on everything that makes her happy in the here and now.

  “Thanks, Remi.”

  Her phones pings and every muscle in her face drops as does my stomach watching her.

  “I’ve got to go; my new mother wants me home.”

  So much sarcasm from one girl.

  “Hold on,” I say, before she leaves and grab my bag from under the desk. I grab the birthday card I picked out for her a couple of weeks ago.

  “Here.”

  Before I can tell her to open it, she’s ripping open the envelope and opening the card.

  Gabriella’s slight intake of breath annoys me, and I dig my elbow into her ribs to shut her up.

  “Remi, this is too much.”

  She picks out the three gift cards, one to a beauty shop in town to buy her make-up, another to the sports shop which I know she loves to buy her trainers from and the last one to a fashion store she goes in.

  She comes around reception and hugs me.

  “Happy birthday for tomorrow,” I whisper into her hair and she pulls back.

  “Thank you, I’ll show you everything when you send me those details for your next date.”

  I salute her and she’s out the door. I wish I could do more for her.

  “How much did you give her this year?” Gab’s asks.

  “In all? Three hundred,” I shrug.

  I don’t give her cash, hence why I get her vouchers for the shops she likes.

  “When she wakes up tomorrow, she’s going to feel good when there isn’t anyone else who gives a damn about her.”

  “It’s not your job either.”

  Tilting my head, I wonder when my best friend became so harsh?

  “If you’re spending this much on her, you should try fostering her yourself. Just because you were rejected for adopting her, doesn’t mean you can’t foster. The system is screaming out for foster parents.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “It was on the news.”

  Four years ago, I investigated adopting her, but I didn’t even make the first round. I was single, living in a bedsit, there was many more reasons for my rejection and each one of them sucked. Casey doesn’t know any of this, I didn’t want to get her hopes up just to be dashed and luckily, I did keep it to myself. So, from that first rejection, I make sure to be around for her if she needs it.