Page 106 of How We Began

I stared, a half-eaten poppadum stuck on my tongue. Swallowing hard I washed it down with a mouthful of beer. My stomach flipped like an Olympic gymnast and my heart picked up a sporadic beat. “I think she was worried, you know, worried that her and Dad had broken me somehow with all the stuff they went through.” He kept his eyes on me as he took a sip of drink. “I told her what was going on now.”

God, was it hot? I needed to take some layers off.

“You did?”

“Lilah…”

The chicken tikka arrives as this point, cutting off whatever he was about to say and his small smile edged a fraction on the sad side.

“Lilah? Ben?” Confused I tried to make sense of the mountain in front of me. “My favourite customer, and her favourite guitarist!”

Big Baz from the guitar shop in town loomed over our table. He clapped a hand on my shoulder in greeting, his hand so large, it nearly knocked me into my starter.

“Hey, Baz. It’s really nice to see you again.”

He leant down and gave me a hug, and in a faux-whisper asked, “Did the Gibson work, my love?”

Ben raised an eyebrow at me before getting to his feet. “Hi. Ben Chambers.”

“Oh, I know who you are, son. How’s the band going?”

Baz and his wife, who I’d not seen until that point as she had been blocked from view by his vast girth, were settled by the hovering staff at the table next to ours.

“Oh, you know. Fine. We’ve a trip coming up soon, a mini tour and also looking at the recording space and meeting the execs at the label.” Ben stared intently at me.

I avoided eye contact. Maturity at its best.

“Good, good,” boomed Baz. “You’ll do well. How’s the new guitar?”

“Oh, she is fine.” Ben smiled, and his glance danced across my skin.

“She?” I asked, trying to fit some chicken in my mouth.

“All guitars worth playing are female, young lady.” Baz talked with a grumbling rumble to his tone, a human Harley Davidson.

How I could do with that cash now. Still, I would never take away that memory of Ben opening his gift, nor would I take away the memory of how he showed his appreciation afterwards, or the memories of hearing him playing it through the wall every night.

“Well, Baz, I’m sad to say, I won’t be purchasing another one of those anytime soon. The Lilah McCannon Bank is closed. So unless I get a job pronto, it’ll be student baked beans for me.”

“I’ll give you a job, lovey.”

Baz didn’t laugh.

“Don’t be daft.” I waved my fork. “I don’t know anything about music or musical instruments.”

Ben nodded in agreement until I kicked him under the table, hard.

“Not true.” Baz argued. “You knew you had to buy the best you could, to achieve what you wanted. If you can make others do the same, then you can work for me.”

Was he for real? I waited for him to laugh, slap his thing, choke on his drink with unrepressed chuckles. Nothing.

He meant it.

My eyes stung and I swallowed a few times before I could answer, “Oh? Thank you.”

“When can you start?” he asked, sliding a menu across the table.

“Easter holiday?” I would be great. Plus, I’d have a job and be too busy to miss Ben on his trip.