‘You’re not driving back tonight, are you?’ Hendrix asked Ife as she continued typing on her laptop, engrossed in whatever she was doing. He’d been watching her for most of the time, working away in her own world sat in the corner. She would on occasion crease her brows, mutter something then go back to typing.
‘Shit! What time is it?’ she looked at her phone, 4pm. She won’t get back to campus until about 3am. She should have left about two hours ago. The whisky had been sopped up by the steak sandwich so she should be fine to drive. ‘Fuck.’ She hurriedly packed her bag.
‘You’re not leaving now, you won’t be there for hours, and the traffic build up at this time of the day is mental. You may not even get on the ferry.’
‘Is there a hotel I can book for the night?’
‘Nope.’ Hendrix said taking a seat opposite her. Most of the pub was empty now, the afternoon rush vacated for the evening rush, which would start in two hours.
‘Then I have to leave.’
‘You can stay with me.’
‘What?’ Is he mad?
‘I cannot let you leave at this time, my mother would kill me and then bring me back to clean up the mess. I have a spare bedroom that never gets used. You can set off in the morning.’
‘I…I… you don’t even know me.’
‘I don’t have to know you to offer you a bed in my home, especially in the circumstance.’
She rolled her eyes, ‘that sounds positively biblical.’
‘And apt. You are in the church After all.’
She raised an eyebrow.
‘The pub goes by her nickname, the church because she is named after St Margs’ the patron saint of the town, and this used to be the site of the first church built here before it relocated two streets down. The locals still refer to her as the church and it’s stuck.’
‘Right. Apt.’ She looked around and suddenly realised the pub really was a church, high vaulted ceilings, sections off like a Latin cross, the dark wood furniture made it look a bit too serious but behind the bar, which was actually set up on what would have been the altar, she could see the small medallion of the virgin Mary. Some of the chairs and tables were actually old church pews. But back to the matters at hand. ‘There is not one hotel in town? Pub with rooms?’
‘None at all.’
‘Do you not like tourists in your town?’
‘We like them fine we simply don’t want them to stay.’ Hendrix flashed that dazzling smile of his that tingled her heart.
‘Then I suppose I have overstayed my welcome.’ She looked at the watch on her wrist, Hendrix noted it was a Rolex. ‘If I leave now, I should be back on campus by 2am ish. If I drive like a maniac and catch the next ferry. Fingers-’
‘Oh no you won’t.’ Maya was standing on the stairs behind them from where she emerged. ‘Now I know your mother would not approve of you shacking up with strangers, but I think she would make an exception on this occasion.’ She motions to her son, ‘he has a guest bedroom, its lovely and you will please accept the invitation to stay the night. No hanky-panky.’
‘Ma!
Ife giggled at the mother and son interaction; she also did not point out that she did not care one bit what her mother thought about anything pertaining to her life. ‘Very well then, I would be pleased to accept a bed for the night. Thank you. And I insist on paying it forward so put me to work at the bar.’
That evening Ife helped with the second shift and the locals immediately took to her adopting her as their own even when she mixed up their drinks order, which was met with good humour. She did introduce her signature cocktail laced with whisky to the menu which the patrons loved, but Hendrix thought far too pink, but he let her at it. He would let her do anything, anything at all, she wanted, that is how far gone he was for her.
Hendrix watched as she swept up and tidied after closing without fuss, she simply rolled up her sleeves and got on with it. Wiping down and cleaning, washing the glasses and doing the bins without being prompted. Because of her also they’d made a killing in tips.
‘Goodnight Ife, please come back soon.’ The other bartenders waved their goodbye as they left post shift.
‘Okay, you’ve earned this.’
It is just Hendrix and her now; he is behind the bar with a bottle of whisky and two glasses.
‘What is that?’ She took the stool opposite him, setting her napkin down beside her. She’d forgotten how much fun it was not to have a care in the world, to get lost and fall off the grid, to get in a day’s job and be tired but pleased at the end of it.
‘A very tiny batch aged in oak sherry cask for five years. Something young and fresh.’ He poured a glass and hands it to her. His gaze intent.
Ife took a sip of the golden amber liquid… ‘wow. Five years old?’ It went down so smooth it is criminal for it to be so young in whisky years. The after bite did not sting it was fresh with just a hint of the smoke. ‘honey and peppercorn? Maybe some maraschino cherries?’
Hendrix smiled, ‘you have a knack for this.’
‘I spent a summer studying to be a whisky expert in a small distillery on Isla and another summer as an intern in Kentucky, working for a small batch bourbon distiller. I was going to be a Master of Bourbon but…’ she trailed off not wanting to say her parents, her mother rather, would not hear of it, threatened to cut her off because she’d had enough of her daughter’s “flightiness” granted she was on a gap year and had no business working in distilleries when she should have been soaking up some culture in far flung places but Ife had never been one to toe her expected line. Which is at the root cause of the arguments with her mother these day. She pushed it to the back of her mind.
Hendrix sensed she did not want to go into all of that so he poured himself a glass before screwing back the top of the bottle and handing it to her. ‘Keep it. As a memento of tonight.’
Ife raised her glass to him, and they clinked glasses to the fading sound of UB40’s, Bring Me Your Cup. There was obviously a theme here, with music, but this was the perfect song for this moment because he had the bottle and he filled up her cup.
‘Dance with me.’ Ife said, hopping off her stool. The song changed to I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You.
Hendrix obliged without a second’s thought. What is going on with him? How does she have such effect on him? Inexplicable. Warm. Dizzying. He’d only known her a few hours but there was such a pull towards her an inexplicable magnetism. He takes her hand and pulls her close swaying to the the song about love and bliss, as if they were meant to be. Ife rested her head on his heart, lost in the rhythm of the song, as the words caressed them in the moment, softly. And then she stood on her tiptoes, looking into the beautiful and warm brown eyes looking into hers, and without hesitation, leaned in close and sealed them with a kiss.
It was all Hendrix needed because he dove into that kiss, lost himself in it, lips parted, tongues finding purchase in each other’s mouth, the bar swirling with them swept up in the moment.
His mother did say no hanky-panky, this was all her and he was glad to be a passenger for the ride.
…