Barely Yours Read Free Page B

again?” he asks, pointing at my empty wine glass. 
    I nod, and with that he goes striding towards the bar.
    I know, I know. Another cliché, right? The gay best friend? But it’s not quite like you’re imagining. Not all, you go girlfriend , etc. For a start, Brian is one of the most scarily intelligent people I’ve ever met. And he just happens to be loads of fun, too.
    I met him during my first job here in England. Oh my god. It was awful . We both worked in this totally dreary, windowless call center, and we both decided to quit at exactly the same time. Good job, as it turned out, because the place shut down less than a month later without paying any of the staff.
    Pretty soon after, Brian landed his dream job, working for the top London fashion designer, Christopher Kane, and me? I ended up at Iris’s Boutique. Not exactly my dream, but at least it’s a step up from that depressing windowless hellhole, and anyway – soon I’ll be off to Brazil.
    Just then, Brian returns from the bar, two drinks in hand.
    “So?” he grins, taking his place opposite me once more. “What shall we drink to this time?”
    “I don’t know,” I shrug.
    “Ooh, I’ve got it!” he says, a playful sparkle in his big brown eyes, offering his drink out towards mine. “To the unknown.”
    “To the unknown,” I laugh back as we clink glasses.
     
    §
     
    Why, oh why did I suggest that second glass of wine?
    Because while I’m not exactly hung-over , I’m definitely not quite as bright eyed and bushy tailed as I should be this morning. And the worst part is, it’s like Iris has got x-ray vision – like she can peer right into my aching head. She just knows I’m feeling groggy, and I can tell she’s watching me like a hawk this morning. I’ve already cleaned the stock room and dusted the shop floor. The place is spotless and business is painfully slow, and I can just see her casting her eyes around the store, desperately looking for something else for me to do.
    I’m just gonna have to ride today out, but I don’t quite know how I’m going to handle it. It’s only 11:23am, and it seems like this is going to be one looooong day.
    Just then, as if in answer to my prayers, the bell above the shop door jingles. Finally! I think with relief. A customer! Something to do!
    My eyes focus on whoever’s just stepped inside the shop, and when I realize who it is, I get this dizzy rush of excitement. Because it’s him .
    My mystery man.
    The guy from the park.
    What’s he doing here again so soon?
    I quickly stand to attention. Which is a mistake. Because I’m so bowled over by his strange reappearance – after all, this is three days in a row – that I’m unsteady on my feet, and I almost go toppling over. Luckily, Iris doesn’t notice my little wobble. She’s too excited herself that this gorgeous, rich stranger is back in her store.
    “Well, my, my, hello again!” she trills in that phony cartoon voice she puts on to charm customers with big wallets.
    I can barely bring myself to look at her, but I know if I did, she’d be fluttering her eyelashes and flitting around him like some pantomime dame.
    “Back so soon ? However can we help you?”
    “Actually,” he says, “it’s Chrissie I’ve come here to see.”
    And as he says my name ( he knows my name? how does he know my name? ), there’s this burst of activity and energy as the shy creature hiding behind his legs suddenly runs out to greet me.
    “Chrissie!” the little girl shrieks, as she rushes behind the counter and into my arms. “Dottie missed you,” she says forcefully, clutching the little toy cat to her chest.
    “Oh? Oh?” says a startled, confused Iris. “I see you’re already acquainted. How very ... peculiar .”
    “If you’ll excuse me,” says the tall handsome stranger, “I have a proposition for Chrissie here.”
    A proposition? Whatever could he mean?
    “As must be quite obvious to you by now,” he continues in that amazing,