Across the Pond Ch. 01

I blinked up at him a few times before my eyelids shut. I'd finally worn myself out. "Tired."

A soft sound came from his mouth. "Yes, I'm sure you are," he responded as he pushed my door farther open. I felt my body sway and a cool hand resting around my back, exposed by my workout gear. "Your skin is burning up. Are you ill?"

"Tired," I repeated. I just wanted to fall into unconsciousness and process everything later.

"Right. Let's get you to bed." My feet left the ground and I sighed in confusion, but the familiar scent of sandalwood and vanilla assaulted my nose and I shifted nervously until a low rumble touched my temple. "Shh. Settle, little one. I have you."

Holland carried me easily down the hallway to my bedroom, and when I felt something firm yet soft my hands instinctively began searching for a pillow and Vincent. The pillow I found easily enough, but... "Vincent. Where's Vincent?"

"I'm sorry?"

I tried to sit up and scan the bed, scissoring my legs back and forth to see if I could feel him. I couldn't. "My rabbit. I can't sleep without my rabbit. The dreams...I need him."

"Stop doing that before you hurt yourself." Unfettered bossiness aside I did as he requested, drawing up my knees and tucking the pillow between them. A few seconds later a grey, tattered stuffed bunny appeared in my sight, one with no eyes and only one ear affectionately named Vincent van BunBun. "Is this what you're searching for?"

"Thanks." I snatched my stuffed bunny impatiently out of his grasp and cradled him into my boobs as if I were protecting him from the big bad British man in my bedroom. A heavy wave of fatigue rolled over my body and I surrendered without protest. "G'night, Max."

Slipping into sleep rapidly I almost missed the light touch of fingertips sweeping my bangs out of my face and the gentle sigh that followed. "Sweet dreams, Sydney." And I was back in my salacious dream just as quickly as I'd left it.

***

VII. Provider.

I hate hospitals. Too white. Too sterile. Too full of grandmothers who guilt their grandchildren into sneaking them booze while they recover from a hip replacement, as evident from the overly opulent bouquet of hydrangeas I was riding up twelve floors with.

The only other person in the elevator was a nervous looking teenager with skater shoes and a floppy haircut. I caught him staring at my tits in my work tank top and turned my head suddenly to make kissy faces at him. He turned bright red and I had to stop myself from laughing when he practically fell out of the elevator doors when they opened, skittering off in the opposite direction.

I made my way to room 1214, which housed the world's worst old woman, Abigail Simmons, or Nana to me. When I finally struggled to get the door open she wasn't alone and I didn't even try to hide my shock. "Baldy! What are you doing here?"

"Hey, Kitten." A genuine smile stretched across my roommate's face, a smile I hadn't seen in weeks. I had an endless string of platonic love for Sam Lamont but it didn't make up for the fact that I hadn't seen his ass in forever because he was always in the hospital, or at least in one of the hospital's nurses. How his dick hadn't turned green and fallen off, I didn't know. He was sitting in the lone chair by Nana's bed with five playing cards in his hand, I'd obviously interrupted their card game. "Getting my ass kicked by Miss Gail here before my shift starts."

"Ah, my young grasshopper. Perhaps I will teach you the ways one day," Nana stated dramatically, laying her full house down on her lap while Sam had five odds. "But for now, you owe me twenty big ones."

Sam grumbled but reached in his pocket, pulling out a twenty-dollar bill that she all but snatched out of his hand gleefully. "Damnit! That's the tenth hand in a row, how do you do it?"

"She cheats, you idiot," I helpfully informed him while I sat the vase on the dresser across from the bed. "There's like, six casinos on the eastern seaboard she's banned from. You're just a sucker."

"Shut it, heathen!" Nana growled at me, before reaching a thin hand to Sam's cheek lovingly. "Samuel, be a dear and have a nurse bring me a Sprite. I'm parched."

"Sure thing, Gail." He kissed her on the forehead and crossed over to me, stopping just short of being in my personal bubble. "You doin' okay, Kitten? What's up?"

"Nothing really. Oh, my boss is our new neighbor, but that's about it."

His forehead scrunched a little. "Tony moved in?"

"No, the other guy. The guy from England who bought the restaurant. I guess his friend bought the duplex from Shane as a gift, I don't know, Europeans are weird"

If Sam wasn't confused before he sure was now. "What the fuck? What do you even know about this guy? This whole thing sounds weird, do I need to be worried about this?"

I rolled my eyes up to the high heavens. Sometimes Sam gets overprotective for no reason, especially when it comes to other guys. I'd think it was jealousy if I didn't know any better. "I don't think Shane would have sold the building without a thorough background check but if you're so concerned when you're not even home seventy percent of the time, go call and ask him."

"Hey." He reached for my arm and I shifted out of his way before he dropped it in defeat. "I know I'm not...it just sounds weird, I'm not questioning your judgement. I gotta go start my shift but I'll be home this weekend. We'll have a pizza and movie night and just chill, okay?"

"Yeah, sure." We wouldn't. I couldn't remember the last time Sam didn't get sidetracked by an emergency or a nice ass and kept a date for us to hang out. I think I would have died of shock if he actually showed up when he said he would. Hurt settled in my chest and I rubbed my sternum like I had heartburn, but I put on a friendly enough smile. "Go save people McDreamy, I'll text you later."

He waved to Nana and headed out, I shut the door behind him and sighed. I suddenly felt tired even though I slept well that morning. "He's right, it's weird."

I turned and couldn't help but genuinely grin at my grandmother. At only 5'1" she was tiny but a powerhouse of strength and boozy sarcasm. Like my mother she was a blond, blue-eyed beauty; but where Mom was elegant and refined, Abagail was the type of scrapper to get into fights over games of Monopoly at the retirement community where she lived. Which, incidentally, was how she broke her hip. She was who I aspired to be if I lived to be seventy. "Shut up old woman, or you won't get your hooch."

"Oh, I forgot! Gimme." I dug into the middle of the flower arrangement and pulled out two mini-bottles of Skyy Vodka. Her face held stern disappointment. "That's it?"

"Yes, that's it! You didn't exactly give me time to go to the liquor store, plus I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to be mixing painkillers and booze anyway."

"Eh, I'm old, what are they gonna do? Come sit and visit for a minute." Rolling my eyes again I did as she asked, plopping my butt on the side of her bed while she snuck the little bottles underneath her pillow, patting it down and giving me her full attention. "Now tell me about this weird boy."

I didn't mean to laugh, but I did. "It's not! Okay, maybe it is, but he's in the middle of a divorce so I think he's taking a sabbatical or something. He's quiet but he has this kind of dry British wit, I guess? I don't know, I've only had a handful of conversations with him."

"Is he smart?"

I thought about it for a second. "I think so. He runs his own company so I guess he'd have to be."

A sly smile appeared, making the wrinkles around her eyes more prominent. "Is he handsome?"

I felt my skin heat and I silently thanked God for being Black so she couldn't see my blush. "He's really serious and he never smiles, but...he's kind of beautiful, actually."

Her smile stretched wider. "Does he give you the tingles?"

Oh, I definitely tingle somewhere. "What's your point, Riddler?"

Nana held up her hand and showed me her palm, and after I took a deep breath and gave a nod she laid her hand on top of mine and squeezed. I felt the urge to pull away but fought it, and after a few moments of silence I relaxed and squeezed back. "You found him."

"Don't start with that soulmate crap, Nan-"

"It's not crap. I met Grandpa Joe right after my first divorce. Horrible man, beat me every chance he got. When I met Joe I was as broken as I could be, but he was the one to heal me. He was a good man, God sent him to me at the worst time but he was the best one." She shook my hand a little until I looked at her through rapidly watering eyes. Don't cry. Not here. "If he offers to heal you, let him. Promise me that."

"Okay okay, I promise." Because what else was I going to say to that? "I gotta go to work, I'll call you tomorrow."

"Fine, go, leave the poor old woman alone. Hey, tell Barbara Rosenthal when I get back to teaching my art class my room better be in order or I'll kick her ass good."

"Mom said no more fights! Are you trying to get sent to one of those old people homes they have on Sixty Minutes?"

"Margaret is a cheater and a scoundrel, and I will avenge New York Avenue until my dying breath!" I laughed out in surprise and she joined me easily until we were both in hysterics. She let me go to wipe away a stray tear on her face. "Go on, my favorite granddaughter. Tell this beautiful boy I said he better be good to you or I'll kick his ass too. I can do it too with my new hip."

"Will do. Hey, only one bottle tonight. No ODing." She waved me off and I patted her leg before I left, taking a minute to compose myself in the hallway before rushing to make it to my shift in time.

***

VIII. Red Lights.

When I got to the bar I bounced around joyfully, stopping to give air hugs and kisses to everyone I saw much to the shock of my co-workers. I'm not an unpleasant person to be around -- the back of the house loves me. I'm constantly bringing in coffee and baked goods when a bad bout of insomnia hits, plus there's a bit of ethnic camaraderie since I'm the only black person on staff and most of the chefs, busboys and dishwashers were either Italian or Hispanic. Such was the way of most restaurants in the area.

The front of the house, well...I have a teensy bit of a reputation of being a huge bitch. When I waved hello to Iliana -- who was by in large my least favorite bartender to work with because she has the IQ of a baked potato -- she looked like her head was going to explode, which I wouldn't have minded either. I hummed happily while I did my opening duties, waiting for Colin to get his habitually late ass to work so the fun could begin.

Iliana and I worked side by side silently to set up until she suddenly did that high-pitched giggle that made my ears bleed. "Hi, Mr. Holland!"

"Hello, Miss Reyes." The hair on my arms stood at attention at the sound of his voice. "Good evening, Miss James."

I looked up from the glass I was washing. He was standing in front of me on the opposite side of the bar, leaning on his forearms. Staring at me. Again. "Hey Boss," I whispered, my voice suddenly nowhere to be found.

His eyes flickered over to Iliana before settling back on my face. "Miss Reyes, please go see if Anthony needs additional help with the liquor delivery. Mr. Patrick is there assisting as well."

"Anything for you, Mr. Holland," she said with another obnoxious giggle and took her fast ass back into the kitchen. When we were alone in silence I took the opportunity to ask him, "Why are you always staring at me?"

His eyebrows rose slightly. "Am I?"

"Yeah, kind of. Every time I work and you're down here...well, you stare."

"I wasn't aware. I apologize if I've made you feel uncomfortable."

I dried the glass with a paper towel. I usually let them air dry, but I needed something to do with my hands. "It's not that, I'm just wondering."

"You're...nice to look at, I suppose."

"Oh. Thanks?" I'm "nice to look at"? What the hell? I'm not a vain person -- at least no more than anyone else -- but something about the way he said it made me feel plain, and small. I tried to come up with something witty to say but my brain was officially shot for the day. "You're staring at me again."

His hand turned upward as he pointed to my face. "It's your eyes. I'm trying to see them more clearly. May I?"

"Um. Sure. Just the hair." He reached his hand out and brushed my bangs away from my forehead. The personal touch warmed my core but I didn't want him to realize I'd been affected, so I tried to hold his gaze steadily. "Better?"

"Mmm," his voice rippled, almost into a growl. "Much. I can see more green in them today. This is the most rested I've seen you."

"Several hours in a bed will do that to a girl," I joked. Then it happened.

Holland smiled.

This glorious, bright smile that was all teeth and, good lord, dimples so deeply embedded in his cheeks they looked manufactured. The kitchen door swung open with the clinking of bottles and we both took a step back from each other as if we were caught in an intimate moment. "Maxwell, I have those time sheets you asked for," Tony's booming voice rang out as he approached.

"Right." The smile was gone and the static around us was broken, making me scowl at the interruption. Holland turned to me before he followed Tony up the stairs to the office. "Have a good shift, Miss James. Give Vincent my best."

"Will do, Boss." I watched him go up the steps without so much of a glance back. My eyes lingered on the closed office door before a teasing voice pulled me back to the present. "Sorry Elizabeth, I don't think Mr. Darcy is coming back."

"Shut up, Colin." I turned around to the Cheshire Cat if a grin of my best friend since I was sixteen. Colin Patrick was as Irish as his name sounded; long and lean with green eyes and freckles splattered across his face and body. Instead of red hair, his thick brown mane was pushed back from his face by a sparkly silver headband. I had no shortage of hot White guys in my life and this particular one was very, very gay. "You're late, and so goddamn nosy."

He snorted loudly as he leaned back against the counter. "I know you're not lecturing me on being nosy, who do you think I got it from? Besides, if I was on time I wouldn't have walked in on you two eye-fucking each other."

I tried to brush it off as I felt my face burn for the second time that day. "You're an idiot. He's not...I'm not into him like that."

"Oh really?" He said in that all-knowing voice he uses when he suspects I'm lying. "How'd he know about Vincent, Syd?"

The overhead music kicked on - a mix of classical jazz and smooth Latin - and I gave a silent thank you to the guys upstairs for the interruption. The first guests started to come in and I plastered on my sociable work face until Colin leaned over and whispered, "Later, bitch. You are not off the hook."

For the second time that night I scowled.

***

IX: Sucker for Pain.

"So, you don't find anything about this weird?"

I removed my arm from over my eyes and watched Colin pull his apron off. The night was over, I was two hundred dollars richer and I was ready to go home and watch HGTV but Colin made me stay behind so I could explain the encounter with Holland. I was lying on my back on the narrow wooden bench with both feet on the floor. "I swear if one more person says...he can't be any worse than my last neighbor."

"Ugh, the sounds of homeboy fucking that chick who squealed like a pig still haunts my dreams." He made the high-pitched ree, ree sound until we both started cackling. The steel jingle of his locker opening brought him back to his point. "Seriously Syd, I find it just a little too coincidental that he's moved in next door to you. Doesn't he live in London anyway?"

I sat up, straddling the bench. "I don't know, I get the feeling he's on a kind of vacation? A vacation where he buys a bar, I guess? We didn't get into it, me being halfway comatose and all."

"Maybe you need to get into it -- I'm telling you something doesn't sound right. You don't even know this guy and now he's gonna be living ten feet from your door?"

"As would any other stranger neighbor I would have. Jesus Colin, what do you think is going to happen?"

"I don't know, but I can tell you have a boner for this dude and you're an "act first, think later" kind of girl. You need to be...careful..." His voice trailed off when he lifted a piece of paper out of his locker and cocked up an eyebrow at the contents. "Then again, maybe you won't like him so much after you read this."

"Why, what is it?" He pointed the paper toward me and I snatched it out of his hand, scanning over the typed font:

Dear Employee,

In keeping with the recent changes at Antonio's that have been and will occur over the upcoming weeks, this letter is to inform you of the new scheduling policy. Effective immediately, overtime will no longer be approved. Each employee is restricted to five days, or no more than forty hours, per week. Below is your newly set schedule.

In addition, the switching of shifts between employees is no longer permitted absent of managerial approval. Requests will be reviewed on a case-by-case basis. If you have questions or concerns, please do not hesitate to contact myself or Anthony.

Sincerely,

M. Holland

The fuck? I scrambled up and flung my locker open, finding the same form letter to compare my schedule to Colin's. We were still together Friday and Saturday nights, but I was only on one more day in comparison to his additional three. "Son of a bitch!" I snarled out angrily.

"Syd," Colin started quietly, like he was talking to a feral animal about to rip his throat out, "Calm down. Don't do anything stupid."

I took a deep breath and exhaled, handing back his letter then folding mine in half. "Can you call your friend on Oak Street and see if they're still hiring?"

"Uh, sure. You're not gonna quit, are you?"

"No, I'm not going to quit," I said with a false sweetness as I took my purse out of my locker and slammed it shut, staring him dead in the eye with a blazing flicker of rage behind it. "But I might just get fired."

***

X: Drop.

I ran up the metal stairs and burst through the office door without pretense. "What the fuck is this bullshit?!"

Holland and Tony were standing over the desk pouring over blueprints before they both looked up, neither one having an expression of surprise to see me. "Told you she'd be pissed," Tony muttered under his breath.

"Give us a moment." Tony was careful to step all the way around me on his way out, shutting the door behind him. Holland straightened and spoke in an even voice. "Try again Miss James, minus the profanity."

My free hand balled into a fist at his condescending tone. "I want to know why. Why no more overtime? Why am I only on the schedule three days a week?"

He did that odd blink before answering. "Are you away of how many hours of overtime you've accrued in the last month? One hundred-twenty, which translates to ten-hour days, every day."

"I take those shifts from the other bartenders who don't want to work them, and I don't even take time and a half so you're not losing any money," I countered.

"The money is inconsequential, as is my reasoning for the new policy. This is how it shall be from now on."

"You have to give me a fucking reason!" I shouted. I realized I was being childish, throwing a full-on tantrum and not one bit of me cared. I was terrified of losing the one thing that made the nights bearable and I wasn't giving it up without a fight.

Holland stalked toward me slowly and stopped just in front of me. He was close. Too close. Too close and smelling so good my anger was getting swirled up in desire and I was slowly losing my edge. "If you had come in here with a more pleasant demeanor we could have had a civil conversation over your schedule. As you barged in here like a petulant child, it will stand as it is.