Chapter three
“Two of the brown sugar bourbon spice cookies, please, love.”
I heard the achingly familiar voice coming from the customer counter as I was making a soy cappuccino in the back of the shop. I turned just as Chris screeched “Oh my god, Greg!” and leaned to give him a hug over the counter.
“Get in here,” I called, loud enough to be heard over the coffee machine noise. The back door opened and closed a moment later and Greg clapped me on the back harder than I appreciated.
“Alright, mate?” Greg pretended to massage my shoulders but what he actually did was make me flinch in pain. The guy had a strong grip and was not afraid to use it.
“Get off me, asshole,” I said without any heat.
“You seem a bit tense, Amir.” He raised an eyebrow at me when I turned to take the cappuccino to the counter. Chris took it from my hand and waved me away. The lunch rush hour was over so we could take a little breather. I sat on a stool across from Greg, propping my head on my elbow. “Twink boy didn't put out last night?”
“Fuck off, Greg.”
Greg laughed, his rough features transforming into a carefree mask. “Wanna go out back for a smoke?”
I glanced at Chris who was serving a customer, and there was nobody else in line. “Can you hold the fort for a few minutes, Chris?”
“Sure, boss,” she replied, turning to wink at me.
“How long are you in town for?” I asked Greg as we both lit our cigarettes and leaned against the wall outside the shop.
“Three weeks.” Greg exhaled a thick line of smoke, chewing nervously on his lip and not meeting my eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“My contract with the RAF expires in a year,” he told me before he pulled deeply from the cigarette, the cherry flaring. “I can’t fucking wait.”
“What happened?” I asked, dreading the answer.
Greg laughed bitterly. “The last two years have been hell. They sent us to bomb villages full of civilians without substantial proof any terrorist cells were hiding there. Most of the missions were filed as failed, then classified, and forgotten about. You know how it goes.”
That was too much information to take all at once. I knew Greg was a fast-jet pilot, but as far as I knew he hadn’t been deployed before. He’d been deployed overseas during the past two years and hadn’t told me?
Realisation hit me. He hadn’t told me because I had been a mess when I’d come back.
“You should have told me.” I inhaled the nicotine induced smoke and held it before exhaling. Greg huffed, shaking his head.
“You had your own shit to deal with, mate.”
“Greg, we’ve been friends for twenty fucking years! Regardless of all my own shit I’ll always be there to help you deal with yours, you know that, you twat.” I pushed myself off the wall and stepped closer to my best friend, forcing him to look me in the eyes. “Are they sending you back there again?”
Greg nodded, his dark eyes full of such intense regret and helplessness that I gave him an impulsive hug. I knew the feeling all too well. The feeling of drifting aimlessly away, unable to stop the direction your life was heading into.
“It’s my job,” he said, his voice muffled as he hid his face in my shoulder.
I patted his back and released him. “I know.”
He’d thought about quitting, I knew it. But if he quit before his contract was over, the past eleven years of his life would have been for nothing. He’d get no pension, no recommendation. He wouldn't be able to find a decent job anywhere and wouldn’t have any support from the RAF. Everything he’d worked so hard for since he was eighteen would suddenly be gone, and that thought was scarier than any war.
Greg threw his bud on the ground and stepped on it. “You should get back to work. I didn’t mean to interrupt your day like that. I just wanted some cookies.” He smirked in my direction and just like that the Greg I knew, the playful, cheeky, flirty Greg, was back.
“I’ll get you some fucking cookies,” I said as I threw an arm around his shoulders and we headed back inside.
Chris looked as though she had everything under control as she dealt with a couple of people out front, so I packed a few cookies in a bag for Greg and handed it to him.
“Why don’t you come over at five and we can go to the centre together?” I suggested.
Greg gave me a sly smile, and I was pretty certain he’d do anything for an excuse to see Shane. I had to remember to grill him about what was going on between them.
“Sure,” he said, walking towards the door. “See ya later, mate. Thanks for these.”
******
I let Chris leave early again today, ignoring her protests. It was nearly closing time and not too busy, I could handle it on my own. And besides, I had to wait for Greg to get here, so I could clean up in the meantime.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I had to serve the last customers before I could close up and check it. It was probably Greg letting me know he’d be late, as usual. For someone trained by the military for the last eleven years, his tardiness was spectacular.
Wishing the last customer a lovely evening, I pulled the shop’s security shutter down and went on to pack the remaining stock. I had everything cleaned, packed and ready to go by 5.15 PM but still there was no sign of Greg.
I remembered my phone had buzzed before and took it out to see what Greg’s excuse was this time. Sliding my thumb along the screen, I saw the text was from a number I didn’t recognise.
I had a lovely time last night. Looking forward to our date. Let me know when and where. Jay
My heart did a little flip and I grinned as I saved Jay’s number.
Me too. How about tomorrow?
I leaned on one of the bar stools and stared at my phone, willing it to light up with a reply. I should have suggested Friday or Saturday. Who goes on a first date on a Monday? But I couldn't wait that long. I wanted to see Jay again and waiting a whole week seemed wasteful.
My phone buzzed, startling me.
Sure. I have an early seminar the morning after, but maybe we can meet in the early evening? Around six?
I had to go to the centre after work and wouldn’t be done by six.
An unexpected, unwelcome thought invaded my consciousness – this is what my life had turned into. Work all day, go to the centre, come back to an empty house, save for Flo.
Sounds good. I’ll come to pick you up from your place and we can decide what to do on the spot. OK?
Cool. See you tomorrow, Amir.
A loud banging on the shutter made me jump. My heart raced and for a terrifying moment blackness invaded my vision. The phone slid from my hand and fell to the floor.
“I’m here. Let’s go,” Greg’s booming voice carried through the shutter.
I closed my eyes, awareness of my surroundings creeping back in at the sound of Greg’s familiar voice. Irrational anger overwhelmed me, my jaw clenching painfully as I tried to calm myself down.
Didn’t he fucking know he wasn’t supposed to startle a veteran? He’d seen war, he should fucking know how it messed up your head.
“Coming,” I managed to yell at him. The banging stopped and I heard the click of a lighter.
Picking up my bag and the tray with the cookies, I walked out the shop, balancing everything in one hand as I locked the door. As I’d guessed, Greg was smoking right in front of my bakery, casually leaning against the wall. His black leather jacket was in stark contrast with his bleached white jeans tucked into black boots. Greg looked more like a rock star than a military pilot, if it wasn’t for his shortly cropped hair. All he needed was longer locks, black chipped nail polish, and eyeliner to be stopped on the street for autographs, even if people weren’t exactly sure what band he was in.
“Alright?” Greg asked when his eyes landed on me. Frowning, he pushed off the wall and came towards me. “Let me take that.” He unloaded the tray from my hands and started walking towards the cab stand. I followed.
“Don’t bang on the shutter. Next time just come round at the back.”
Expecting someone to act like they knew what was going on in your head was not fair. Greg might have been in the military for eleven years, might have seen and experienced some of the things I had, but that didn’t mean he realised exactly how fucked up I was.
Greg gave me a wary look over his shoulder. “I’m sorry.” He held my eyes for a long moment before his frown deepened and he shook his head. “I didn’t think.”
We didn’t talk until we got into the cab and told the driver the centre’s address. Greg perched the tray on his knees and stared out the window. The weather wasn’t that bad today – it was getting dark by now, but the sky was clear and it was relatively warm for October.
I wanted to ask him why he was late and what was weighing on his mind, but I felt the invisible barrier of the wall Greg had put around himself. He had a habit of doing that, ever since we were kids, when he didn’t want to talk about something.
So I let it go.
“What’s up with you and Shane?” I asked instead, figuring it’d be a safer topic.
“He’s cute, I’m cute, we decided to be cute together.” Greg turned to face me, a strained smirk plastered on his face.
“That’s all?”
He shrugged. “What more could there be? I’m off to fuck knows where in less than three weeks. It’s not a base for a lasting relationship.”
“Does that mean you do want a lasting relationship? With Shane?” I was quite surprised. Greg’d never wanted to get involved with anyone, not long term anyway.
“What’s with the Dr. Phil shit all of a sudden?”
“I’m just trying to find out what’s going on, Greg.”
“Fuck if I know,” was all he said for the rest of the drive.
******
Flo bolted towards the door the moment I opened it. Thankfully, Greg was the one holding the tray of cookies so I could crouch down and accept all of Flo’s affections.
“Hey, girl,” Greg cooed as he passed me the tray the moment Flo focused her big brown eyes on him. The traitor forgot I existed and ran to Greg, tail wagging, as she transferred her attention to her new victim.
I rolled my eyes and left them to it as I made my way inside the centre. The guys were sitting outside in the garden, covered in blankets and coats as they laughed about something. There was no sign of Shane and the door to his office was closed.
Flo ran past me, nearly knocking me over, bursting outside through the open French doors. She found her tennis ball and dropped it in Greg’s feet when we stepped outside.
“You’re the chosen one tonight,” I told him, sneaking a look at him. Greg was smiling and the intense hopeless air around him seemed to have lifted. “Careful not to bust your shoulder throwing that ball a million times, man. Shane will be on your case.”
Greg just laughed, ignoring my warning as he scratched Flo behind the ears and threw her the ball.
“Cookie!” Peter yelled when he saw me. Everyone else cheered and waved us over.
We sat with them, accepting the offered blankets and cups of tea hot from the thermos. The tray of cookies was quickly devoured as we talked, played with Flo and laughed at Peter’s dirty jokes.
“Hey, do you wanna go see where Shane’s hiding?” I asked Greg quietly when I realised an hour had passed and there was still no sign of Shane.
Greg nodded and we stood up.
“See you tomorrow, guys,” I said, before I remembered that I probably wouldn't be coming tomorrow. Deciding against correcting my mistake, I followed Greg inside.
“Greg,” I called after him. “Are you free tomorrow afternoon, around five?”
“Yeah. What do you need?”
“I kinda have a date and won’t be able to bring my leftover stock here. Can you come pick it up from the bakery around five and bring it over?”
Greg’s face transformed into an evil grin.
“A date, eh? With twink boy?”
“Don’t call him that. His name’s Jay.” His smile grew bigger, showing his sharp incisors. “Yes. I have a date with Jay. Now can you come take the damn cookies or not?”
“Sure, mate. I’d do anything to help you get laid.” He bumped my shoulder with his fist playfully, but it fucking hurt. I was just about to tell him to fuck off when I heard Shane’s voice carry through the closed door of his office.
“Why don’t you come here and see for yourself? I can guarantee you’ll change your mind...” He stopped talking abruptly as if he was interrupted. “I have all the accounts right here in my office. You’re welcome to come see them or I can email them to you...” Another sharp pause. I could tell from the edge of his voice that Shane was very close to the end of his rope and whoever was on the other side of the phone was soon going to get an earful. “That’s your prerogative, of course. May I suggest you go fuck yourself. Sir.”
There was a loud bang as if something hit a wall.
“I think we should go in before he breaks something other than his phone,” Greg said quietly, as stunned as I was hearing Shane’s outburst.
We knocked on the door and a moment later it flew open, a wild-eyed Shane glaring at us. Both Greg and I took an instinctive step back.
“Come in,” Shane said, the fight leaking out of him. He scrubbed a hand over his face, and then raked it in his hair. It was a gesture of acute despair and I hated seeing Shane like that.
“What’s going on?” I asked as I sat in one of the chairs. Greg took the other while Shane plonked in his office chair on the other side of the desk.
“Fucking Colin Marsh pulled out his support for the centre, because someone convinced him his money wasn’t spent as promised.” Shane buried both his hands in his hair, leaning his elbows on the desk. “That led to other sponsors pulling out, and I spent the whole day trying to convince everyone that it wasn’t true. How can they believe some rumours when I have the proof right here?” He picked up a leather folder, waved it around and let it drop back on the desk with a thump. “They’re not even willing to come over here and let me show them how their money is being spent. Fucking bastards.”
Greg and I exchanged glances. His dark eyes were burning with rage.
“Shane,” I said, standing up and walking over to my friend. He turned his green eyes to me when I reached his chair. The desperation in them nearly knocked me over. “It’ll be alright. We’ll find other sponsors. I can give more...”
“No!” He said with fierce determination. “You’re already giving us your whole pension every month. I won’t allow you to starve or lose your business over this.”
“We’ll figure it out,” I said, crouching down in front of him. “Why don’t you take a couple of days off? You look like death warmed over.” Shane opened his mouth to protest, but Greg beat him to it.
“Don’t even try it,” Greg growled, standing up. “You’re coming with me tonight and I’m bringing you back in a few days.”
“I can’t, Greg,” Shane said, but his voice sounded weak and resigned.
“You can and you will. The centre can survive a couple of days without you, Shane. You have competent, loyal staff who will do double shifts if they have to, you know that.” Greg moved closer to Shane, lowering his voice when he spoke again. “But they can’t survive without you if you lose it and fuck everything up.”
Something passed between them as they stared at each other. Something too personal for me to understand.
“Alright,” Shane said, almost too quiet for me to hear.
I gaped at Greg, unable to believe he’d managed to convince Shane to take time off. As far as I knew, he’d never done it before.
“Get your stuff and let’s go,” Greg commanded before he turned to leave. “I’m guessing you’re going to need a new phone?” He threw over his shoulder.
“Yeah...” Shane sighed.
I had to bite my lip not to laugh.