IceBerg - 11. Chapter 11

‘Ugh! Robertson is here again,’ Oli gave a glance to the left, over my shoulder.

I lifted the champagne bottle and poured it into the glasses on my tray.

‘Ach!’ Oli rolled his eyes. ‘He looks bad. I feel bad for anyone caught with him tonight.’

I smirked back and placed the empty champagne bottle back on the desk.

Lifting my tray, I said, ‘He was here last week. Threw a drink at one of the new bar staff and groped Sandy.’

‘Sandy! Poor girl,’ he paused. ‘She does karate, doesn’t she? Why didn’t she just kick his arse?’

I raised an eyebrow and deepened my voice, ‘Rule one, cliental is always correct, you are not correct, you are the server.’

‘Ah, the first day chats with the boss,’ he replied. We both turned around. ‘You still remember that?’

‘What’s to forget? That’s the day I cleaned sick up for the first time,’ I said.

Looking around, I saw Robertson. James Robertson to be precise.

The forty-year-old was leaning against his twenty something blonde stick with large white teeth. He was already swaying, his eighties washed out floppy haircut was hanging around his squinting eyes. He had one arm over his girlfriend and pointed with his free hand at a poor waitress. Sandy, again.

Oli followed my eyesight and said out loud what I was thinking, ‘He really has it gunned out for Sandy. I don’t know how she doesn’t just hit his nasty face with that tray.’

‘Yes,’ I simply agreed, in a low voice.

I went off in my own direction. People took drinks off the tray I offered. The crowds were small that day. I walked around the large spaces in the room; my feet danced their usual beat to avoid the usual carpet stains. I could hear the large cackling coming from Robertson’s personal booth area.

‘Drink, ma’am?’ I offered the tray, my eyes glazed over. The group of women collected their drinks, never stopping from their youthful bitching chats.

Glancing over to the bar, I noticed Oli leaning against the bar, grinning and chatting to David as David filled Oli’s glasses up with alcohol. David was laughing. He put the bottle of champagne down and flipped a grey towel over his shoulder. Oli was laughing back too. He tapped the worn-down scratches at the side of the bar.

I frowned.

Scratches.

I turned around and carried on with my walk.

I had rung my parents a few days ago. They said they would be okay lending me the money to fix it, which was good of them. I mean, it would suck that I would owe them the money back, but it was better than the other alternative, which was asking the bank.

‘Hey!’ a gruff voice was suddenly in my face.

I blinked. The eighties haircut was inches away, a grumped face with one eye half closed was staring back at me.

Crap, crap!

How did I end up walking over to his booth?

My feet were suddenly ridged, rooting to the ground, my fingers curled tighter on the tray. My smile was stiff, and the air was trapped still in my chest.

My lips were dry. I replied, my voice forced, ‘Yes, sir?’

‘Do you know how I am?’ he growled, his one eye still half closed, trying to focus on me. The stench of rum was acidic, burning my nose.

‘Mr. Robertson.’

‘I asked for my drink an hour ago,’ he prodded me in the chest with his fat podgy finger. The prod was sharper than I expected. I clenched my teeth.

He carried on, prodding my chest, ‘Why haven’t you got me my drink?’

My smile was somehow still ridged on, ‘Sir, you must have asked one of my co-workers. I can get your drink for you now.’

‘You calling me a liar?’ he growled again, the words slurring out. He leaned against his girlfriend. She glared at me; her mouth upturned as she swayed on her own high heels.

‘I asked you to get me my drink a while ago and now, now, now, you are making excuses,’ he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

I was screwed. I needed to get out of here. Now.

I would not argue with this man and I wouldn’t throw Sandy under the bus. I would have done the same thing to get away from him.

‘Sir, I can only apologise. I will get your drink right away,’ I pulled my rooted feet and forced a step back. ‘What was your?’

‘Pft!’ a snort came from the girl. She titled her own empty glass flute at me. Her black make-up smudged under her rolling eyes. ‘Sir. That is right.’

‘Yeah, babe,’ he rolled his cheek onto her blonde hair then rolled his head back to me. He slurred, ‘You, you should know my order, I told you it, hours ago.’

At this point, I was ready to fetch all our rum from the bar and drown him in it myself.

‘Of course, sir,’ I turned around, my escape awaiting me along a long quiet patch of red carpet.

My shoulder was yanked back with such a force, I had been spun around. Robertson’s claw was sharp around my shoulder, his fingers digging in. His eyes were unfocused; the rum was an overpowering odour. I could almost taste it in the air.

‘You are a smarmy prick, aren’t you?’ his cockney accent vomiting out of his yellow mouth. ‘Aren’t you?’

His voice was getting louder and louder.

I didn’t know what to say. He wanted to argue, and I was trapped. My stomach churned.

I cleared my throat and forced a calm tone to come out of my closed throat, ‘Sir, I am sorry.’

‘Who do you think you are talking to,’ he let go off his girlfriend’s waist. He placed both hands flat on my chest and gave me a sharp shove. I placed a foot back, trying to focus all my balance on my foot whilst still holding onto the tray of full drinks.

His girlfriend reached forward and snatched a handful of glasses off the tray, the flutes clinking in her small claws.

‘You are just a little peasant,’ his voice was almost bellowing now. ‘You can’t do your job right!’ he spat as he talked, spraying my face.

I clenched my teeth more, trying not to wince at feeling the wet on my cheeks.

‘Absolute joke!’

His hand flipped under my tray. All the thin glasses that were left on the tray smashed into each other, the champagne split out onto the tray, onto my shirt.

My shirt was already becoming cold and damp against my chest.

I kept my eyes focused on Robertson’s face.

My voice was quiet but firm, ‘I will get your drink now, sir.’

Slamming his large palms onto my chest, he shoved me back again. I took a step back. He snorted a laugh with his girlfriend before his face distorted, staring me down.

He prodded at me, hard, so hard, that I took another step back, I was barely clinging onto my balance.

‘It’s people like you who make this the worst country in the world,’ he said it with such force, his eyes glaring, as if he truly meant every word.

‘Yeah, hun,’ the girlfriend snarled at me.

I murmured, ‘If you would like to speak to my manager.’

‘You think I have a problem?’ he growled.

‘No, no,’ I shook my head. ‘I think there has been a misunderstanding.’

‘A misunderstanding,’ he smirked, he turned to his girlfriend and they cackled at each other. He turned back, still smirking. ‘Yeah. Fine. If you want to go for misunderstanding.’

Taking a step back, he spread his arms wide like wings, ‘A misunderstanding.’

I took a step back myself, on the edge of escaping, ‘I will get your drink now, sir.’

Turning around, I focused to the now empty bar and took a step forward.

My shoulder was yanked back, and I had been spun around again. Before I caught my breath, a full force blow collided with my cheek. I stumbled back, the pain rippling through my face, my teeth aching, I bow my head down. Everything was numb. The tray was on the floor. My hands immediately covered my face. I was lifted, Robertson was grabbing at me, his fists digging into my throat, my shirt in crumpled into his fists.

He was pulled off me, my feet stumbled back on the ground, my shirt still crumpled up and damp. The sting from cheek was tender now, my fingertips grazed across it.

Robertson was swearing and shouting, his girlfriend was yakking like a little dog. I looked up to the noise.

Robertson was being held back by a strong pair of arms, almost pulling him off the ground. He was craning his neck, almost spitting at the guy who pulled his arms back more.

Robertson winced and mumbled, ‘Fine, fine! Okay.’

The guy loosened his grip and let him go. I saw the guy’s face.

Alex.

‘I will call my father on you,’ the girlfriend pointed her talons at Alex.

Straightening his jacket, Robertson grabbed at his girlfriend’s hand and pulled her away while she was still screeched her threats.

Running over, Tony the guard came in. Sweat was already pouring over his round face.

He ushered around Robertson who simple smacked his arm away and snarled, ‘We are going! Alright? Going.’

I swooped down to collect my tray off the ground, feeling a hundred eyes burning into the back of my head. My face stung with shame; my cheek began a dull ache. I could almost feel the imprint of his fist. I focused on plucking up shards of glass from the carpet onto the tray. My stomach was hollow, and my knees were shaking.

‘Need a hand?’

Alex was hovering over me; his voice was soft and calm. I gritted my teeth and shook my head.

All the glass pieces were now on the tray. Standing up, I caught Alex’s eye.

He was frowning, staring hard at my cheek.

Clearing my throat, I shook my head.

I walked away and kept my head down. I could still feel a hundred pitiful eyes staring, almost hear a few mutters. But the pitiful stare that I felt the most was from behind me, from my boyfriend.

***

‘Are you sure you’re okay? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I would be there. I didn’t want you stressing out.’

‘Alex, I told you I am alright,’ I said, cradling the phone to my ear. Oli opened his front door to let me. I nodded at him as I walked past him.

‘I know, I just,’ Alex sighed. ‘I just wish I got there sooner. All I saw was that waste of space go for you and I just saw red.’

‘If it wasn’t me, he would have gunned for someone else,’ I said, sitting down on the couch. Oli sat beside me, pulling at my chin, looking concerned at my cheek and eye.

Tapping Oli’s mothering hands away, I said on the phone, ‘Thank you for helping Alex. Truly, thank you. But there are cliental like him and it’s not an issue.’

‘Not an issue?!’

‘You see me as that pathetic I can’t even stand up for myself?’

‘I didn’t say that, I just,’ his voice faltered, I could hear a croak his voice. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you; I just did what I do naturally. I. I am sorry.’

Ugh. I am jerk.

‘I am grateful you helped me, Alex,’ my voice softened. ‘This comes with the job though. It is rarely that violent. But people are rude and that’s how it is.’

‘Have you put ice on your cheek yet?’

‘No, but I am going to,’ I turned to Oli and raised my eyebrows, ‘Put ice on it now.’

Oli nodded and got up to go to his kitchen.

Alex sighed, ‘The moment he went for you, I just felt myself exploding, all I wanted to do was just hit him. I had to hold myself back. I think I gripped him a little too hard.’ He gave a low laugh. ‘Me and my giant idiot hands.’

Before I could stop myself, I replied, ‘Your hands are very fine, and you know it.’

‘Oh,’ he said. I could almost see him curling his lips into a little flirtatious smile. ‘You like my hands? That’s a specific area.’

I bit my bottom lip. I said, ‘I love you, Alex.’

It was the first time I said it to him.

He sniffed and said, ‘I will come over tomorrow, I have some spare time after training, I will look after you for the day.’

‘Will you now,’ I smirked.

‘Oh, you know,’ he teased. ‘Make the soup, do the sponge baths, apply the creams.’

‘I didn’t realise we were that far in the relationship for sponge baths.’

‘Ew!’ I glanced over to Oli who handed me the bag of ice. He pulled face at me. I pulled a face right back.

‘I thought you were a superior man who didn’t need any help,’ replied Alex.

‘You can come around,’ I said. ‘But you don’t need to take care of me. Bruise will heal and having a beard helps hide it well.’

‘Well, you better put that ice on anyway.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

Alex chuckled.

I gave Alex a quick goodbye before taking the ice bag and, in slow motion, placing the bag on my face. Letting out a sharp whistle of breath, I scrunched my eyes.

The ice was a smack of cool on my hot cheek. I held it there and relaxed back on the couch.

‘He really did a number on you. Must have hurt,’ commented Oli, relaxing back next to me.

I gave him a blunt reply, ‘I got punched in the face. Of course, it hurts.’

‘Come in the kitchen with me,’ Oli whacked at my leg.

I almost kicked him back. But I got up and followed him feebly, gripping the ice bag to the same place on my face.

A smile then exploded onto his face, ‘So, you already told him you love him then?’

‘So, you and George are hanging out more,’ I teased right back, as he put a film on. He then sat back down and placed the popcorn bowl between us.

‘Ah, ah, no, this is about you,’ he waggled his finger as I sat down on the couch putting the ice bag down. ‘You guys first. I am literally so excited for you guys, you know? You totally needed this. Two years and with possibly the best guy you could have found.’

‘Totally,’ I mimicked, smirking and pulling faces at Oli. Grabbing a handful of popcorn, I stuffed it into my mouth, crunching away. I winced a little with my cheek still sore.

My phone buzzed. Shuffling, I pulled out my it from my back pocket, hoping it really had gone off this time. I flickered my fingertips against the screen. A text message came through. It was from Charlie. I thought I had deleted his number.

Oli crunched on.

I almost froze up, my thumb hoovered over the view button.

‘You love birds still twittering,’ Oli said, without taking his eyes off the screen.

‘Hm,’ I replied.

I pressed the view button and read the message.

‘Hi Nathan, I saw what James Robertson did today, I was stood nearby. I am so sorry I let you down. I should have stopped him. All I have done is let you down over and over. I am so sorry, I am so sorry. I am not usually this much of a complete coward. I don’t want to be this kind of person, even if you can’t forgive me, I just need you to know that I am embarrassed at how I’ve treated you and all I can do is apologise over and over and over again, because that’s the least you deserve.'