Le Chat Noir

One Month Later

Somehow, between my two jobs and his stints abroad, we made it work. There had been no clarification that we were actually a couple, but I preferred it that way. Then we were relieved from the expectation to be in constant contact or be there when the other person woke up.

I still remembered the first night with vivid recollection, how I hadn’t yet fallen asleep when the alarm on my phone sounded. Harry’s body was curled around mine, one of his knees wedged between my legs. He was sound asleep, although I was slightly concerned that my hair was making it hard for him to breathe properly. But once I slipped out of bed and dressed, Harry had already replaced my body with a pillow. I left him a note, apologizing for leaving the way I had, and told him where the spare key was so he could lock up on his way out. That spare key which, incidentally, now clanged against his own keys on the keyring he kept in his back pocket.

Lucy was laid off two weeks back, after frequent tardiness. Of course, that was nothing new with her, but Charlie had found a much more capable employee in Alan and decided to hire him as a full-time replacement after only two shifts. Apparently Lucy’s bad luck had continued when Harry told me that Niall dumped her a few days later.

Grimmy and his pack of model/socialite/generally wealthy people continued to come in every weekend, but Grimmy in particular had found out that I also worked at Beigel Shop and came there for breakfast after his radio show a few times a week.

It was Friday night and the pub was packed like a can of sardines. Grimmy and his crew occupied their usual table, their chatter louder than everyone else’s. He was joined by Alexa and Pixie tonight, but I didn’t know anyone else crammed into their booth. Grimmy was on his third Vesper, and I had a feeling he was prepared to consume several more.

I hadn’t so much as spoken to Harry in almost three days. He was in Japan doing some promotional thing, and the closest I got was some photos online and a few vague Tweets. I didn’t mind this lack of communication, because I’d already told him that texting when he was in another continent cost me more money than it was worth, and I had yet to purchase a new WiFi port so even data messaging was out of the question.

But from what he’d said to me before he left, and Grimmy’s constant updates on Harry’s every move — apparently international texting wasn’t a problem for them — today Harry would be coming home. Harry had been invited to come to the pub, but it was unclear whether or not he’d show up. Thanks to a few leaked pictures of him outside The Black Cat within the same week, Harry was now actively avoiding being snapped by paparazzi outside of establishments that sold alcohol as their primary business. Apparently they were still trying to fix some mishap in LA from several months back, and he’d been warned by the label not to do anything stupid.

A young man squeezed through to the bar and leaned forward on his forearms, fixing me with a wide smile. “Somebody mentioned you have a knack for making the perfect drink,” he said by way of greeting, his blue eyes twinkling.

“My reputation precedes me,” I replied, pushing back the lever that controlled the tap of Guinness. I placed the pint on the beer mat for the man whose order I’d guessed beforehand, and he slipped me the appropriate change. “Have a nice night now.”

I turned my focus to the blue-eyed man, taking in his slicked back caramel hair and breathtaking smile. He had on a dress shirt and slacks and was probably a professional type. But he was fit, all sharp angles and sinewy muscles. This man cared about his appearance, that much was obvious, so I thought of a stylish drink.

He knew what I was making as soon as I grabbed the bottle, but kept his mouth shut as I dropped four ice cubes into the glass and then poured a decent amount of bourbon over top. I slid it across the bar to him, our fingers brushing as he took the glass from me.

“Cheers, love, what do I owe you?”

When I’d collected the cost of the drink plus a sizeable tip, the man offered me a last smile and disappeared back into the crowd. He passed by Grimmy’s booth on the way, and I couldn’t help but grin as Grimmy stared openly.

“You’ve got to teach me how to do that,” Alan muttered, when we got a free moment.

“It’s all about observing people,” I said. “You just have to pay attention.”

“But you know exactly what they want to drink. It doesn’t even matter if you’ve just met them or you’ve known them forever.”

I shrugged. “As far as talents go, it’s kind of rubbish.”

“Those tips aren’t, though,” Alan argued, and I laughed.

“I’m gonna collect the empty glasses, yeah?” I said, and Alan nodded to indicate that he could handle the bar alone for a few minutes. I grabbed the plastic tub from the kitchen, saying a quick hello to Archie, then started a round of the pub. I collected the most glasses from Grimmy’s table, because of their large party and diverse taste in alcohol. Everyone else drank pints for the most part, the glasses for which I was able to stack and fit more into the tub. I got a few requests for top ups and tried to remember what everyone wanted before dropping off the glasses in the kitchen for Archie to load into the dishwasher.

Since he’d served everyone at the bar, I got Alan to help me fill up the orders I’d gotten while collecting empty glasses. “For stick insects, those models drink a shit load of booze,” he said, when I got to Grimmy’s friends.

“They survive on the stuff,” I quipped, and he chuckled. “Well, that and cigarettes.”

“Bad habits, the lot of them,” Alan tsked, shooting me a grin over his shoulder as he mixed a martini. “The tall one in the plaid, he does that radio show, yeah?”

I nodded, filling a tray with pints.

“How is it he can stay up all night partying and then do a bloody breakfast show?”

As someone who slept very rarely, I understood entirely. Since I hadn’t told him about it and I doubted Archie had mentioned it to him, it was unlikely that Alan was aware that I worked two jobs.

“It’s not that hard, really. And he only goes out on weekends, as far as I know.”

“Even so,” Alan said. “I sleep until two most days.”

“What a waste of the day,” I admonished, gasping. Alan rolled his eyes. I picked up the tray and replaced drinks for those who’d asked, keeping track of their table so I could add the cost to their tab. When I returned to the bar Alan filled my tray up again, this time for Grimmy’s table.

I distributed their drinks and Grimmy, glancing at his phone, sighed. “I don’t think he’s coming tonight, love,” he said.

“I’ll survive another day without him,” I assured Grimmy. Although I did miss Harry a lot more than I’d expected I would a month ago, when we’d only just started…whatever it was we were doing.

My tray collided with a torso when I turned around, and I started to apologize when I saw who’d I’d bumped into. He looked mostly the same, his brown hair tousled and his eyes bright. It was a warm night, but I’d never understood his penchant for loose vests that displayed his ribcage, especially when he tucked them haphazardly into his maroon corduroys as he had tonight. But he was smiling down at me as though our last conversation had never happened, where he told me that things between us had changed and he didn’t think we could see each other anymore.

“Hey, Zo,” he said, one hand tucked into the front pocket of his trousers and the other reaching out to brush against my arm. I flinched back, blinking up at him in confusion.

“What are you doing here?”

Brian rolled his eyes. “I came for a drink. Obviously.”

I just stared at him. “You came for a drink,” I repeated, unconvinced.

“Well, I’m here with some mates. They’re playing darts. I saw you, thought I’d say hi.”

“And now you have, so we can both move on with our lives, yeah? I’ve got to get back to work,” I said, completely aware that I was being dismissive and rude. I didn’t care.

But Brian followed me anyway, all the way back to the bar. He even had the audacity to block the space between the end of the bar and the wall, which allowed Alan and I to access the kitchen and the rest of the pub.

“Would you get me a drink, Zo?” Brian asked.

I was furious. He was such a wanker, showing up here like we’d ended things just peachy. I didn’t feel about him the same way I had, which had a lot to do with Harry, but that didn’t mean I was just going to forget one of the only people I actually let into my life. Brian and I went through a lot together; we were together for over a year. I’d been happy with him, and though he’d been happy too. But apparently I was wrong about that.

We’d split up over a month ago, and he hadn’t shown up in The Black Cat until now. It was probably a smart decision on his part, considering how angry I was now, even after moving on from him. But that didn’t mean we were automatically mates again. He’d broken my trust, something I held very close to my heart, and I most certainly wasn’t ready to trust him again.

“Zo, do your thing,” Brian said, breaking me out of my thoughts. “I’m sure you’ve got me figured out already.”

I wanted to smash a glass over his head, but I had a feeling that Charlie wouldn’t appreciate it much. So I poured a pint and shoved it into Brian’s chest, savouring in a flash of joy as some of the beer spilled on his shirt.

“Thanks, babe,” he said.

That was it. I spun around, scowl etched onto my face, ready to throw a punch. But Alan caught my arm and pulled me back, muttering about how the employees weren’t the ones who got into bar fights.

“I can cover things out here,” he whispered in my ear. “Go into the kitchen, take a breath, and come back when you’ve calmed down.”

Brian wasn’t an idiot, so he stepped aside to let me stomp into the kitchen. The door swung open and I strode in, letting it slam rather loudly behind me. Archie jumped up, nearly dropping the freshly basket of chips he’d just lifted from the fryer.

“Zo!” he exclaimed, depositing the chips into a smaller basket and saturating them with salt. “What’s happened?”

“Brian,” I hissed, grabbing a ginger beer and lifting myself onto the counter. “That fucking wanker thinks he can just come in here and play bloody darts with his mates.”

Archie frowned. “Brian’s here? I figured you’d be over that by now, what with Harry and—“

“I’m not in love with him anymore, Archie,” I replied with an eye roll. “But he kind of ripped out my heart and stomped on it when he told me we ‘lost our spark’ or whatever. I’m kind of very much not fucking okay with serving him pints when he’s smiling as though we’re best mates.”

I drank half of my ginger beer in one swig and placed it on the counter next to me. I still wanted to bludgeon Brian’s face in, but I could probably hold myself back. As long as he didn’t speak to me. Or look at me.

“Have some chips, Zo,” said Archie, offering me a half filled basket. “Chips make everything better.”

“All except your spots,” I replied dryly, and Archie scowled.

“It’s genetic,” he muttered, turning back to the fryer.

“You should let Alan now. His skin is lovely.”

“Don’t take out your anger on me, Zo. Reserve that for the people who deserve it.”

I ate all of the chips in three minutes flat, then decided I’d left Alan alone long enough. I had a job to do, and I shouldn’t have let my personal life get in the way. Keeping them separate was one of my rules — although one person was very good at getting me to break said rules — and I didn’t want to make a mess of things.

To my relief, Brian had gone back to the dart board with his mates. Alan told me he’d take care of their group for the rest of the night, and I gave him my thanks for the reprieve. Alan didn’t have to ask why I was so furious with Brian, there were just certain things that people who worked at pubs (and actually knew what they were doing) knew. Like when a fight was going to break out, or when somebody had too much to drink. I’d never been more grateful that Charlie hired Alan as Lucy’s replacement than I was tonight.

However, I was now utterly off my game. I nearly dropped a glass, twice, and mistakenly gave a man whiskey instead of bourbon. Then I was irate all over again, buzzing with all of the energy it stirred up in me. I told myself over and over that I wouldn’t do something stupid, that letting Brian get to me was just showing him that I wasn’t over us. I had Harry now, some idiot of an ex-boyfriend shouldn’t matter. It probably would have been a lot easier for me to cool off if Harry was here, because he’d be able to distract me with bad jokes and quips about Grimmy’s attempts to seduce ignorant young things.

As it was, I was left to stew in my own fury, surrounded by alcohol that I couldn’t drink.

There was a lull at the bar, so I took a step back and leaned next to the sink. I shut my eyes and tried to drown out the voices and the hum of the telly. My internal monologue began, and I told myself repeatedly that I was not an innately angry person, that I was bloody great at not letting things get to me, and that Brian had no reason to cause such a fire in me. I was doing well without him, anyway. Who’d have thought I’d be able to snag a popstar for a boyfriend — or whatever it was we were? Certainly not me.

Apparently, my extreme dose of bad luck had worn off for the night, because fingers skimmed along the strip of exposed skin between my top and the waistband of my jeans, coming to a rest against my hip.

“You know,” murmured a very familiar, drawling voice, lips right against my ear. “It’s not professional to fall asleep on the job.”

My eyes flew open, meeting Harry’s at once. He was smirking, but his eyes were tired. He probably didn’t sleep much on the flight.

“You aren’t allowed back here,” I said with a frown. My heart had accelerated now that he had arrived, and I almost forgot that Brian was off being a twat across the pub.

“I missed you too, Zola,” Harry chuckled.

“While that’s all well and good, you really can’t be back here, mate,” Alan interjected, looking pointedly at Harry. “And besides, you’ve caused quite a commotion with your appearance.”

Harry looked away from me and at the small crowd (mostly female) that had gathered. This was a regular occurrence, and Harry handled it well. Being photographed with fans in a pub was definitely not helping him keep a clean image, but at least he wasn’t usually drunk when it happened. Harry dragged his body away from mine and put on his best smile as the phones were shoved into his face.

While Harry was still posing for photos, I mixed drinks and poured pints. I’d just served a couple when Brian appeared at the bar, leaning his chin on his fist. “Could we get another round, Zo?” he asked.

“Alan’s your man,” I replied curtly, jerking a thumb at my coworker. Alan grinned and started to fill pints.

Even when Alan had finished pouring the pints, Brian stayed where he was. “Zo, would you help me with these? I’ve only got two hands, you see.”

“Alan, would—“ I began, but Alan was busy with other customers. I glowered at Brian while he smiled innocently at me, enjoying this far too much. He knew me, and he knew that him being here bothered me. But he was going to keep at it, because even when we were together, Brian loved to put me on edge. He used to say that my anger was sexy. But I guess that had been ‘lost’ along with his interest in me.

So I picked up the two remaining pints and squeezed through the crowd of girls lined up to get their three seconds with Harry Styles, ignoring the look he gave me as I passed. I set down the pints on the table nearest the dartboard, which Brian and his mates had commandeered. I knew all of them well, but they only offered up sheepish smiles and continued with their game.

“Play a round, Zo,” Brian encouraged, sipping his pint.

“I have work to do,” I snarled.

“I think Alan’s got it covered for a minute, babe,” Brian said, edging closer to me. “The lads have missed you, right?”

Brian looked pointedly at his friends, who shrugged awkwardly and then looked anywhere but at me. They knew just as well as I did that Brian was trying to get a rise out of me, just like he always was.

I muttered a few choice words under my breath and snatched the darts from Chris’ open palm. He smiled, and I did my best to smile back, because he wasn’t the one taking a piss. It was his best mate, my ex-boyfriend, and just about the biggest dickhead on the planet at the moment.

I started to aim, but then there was a body pressed against my back. One of Brian’s hands was planted on my hip, angling my body, and the other held the dart over my hand. I tried to shrug out of his grasp, but Brian held on tighter.

“You’ve always been shit at darts, you know that?” he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear.

Instead of throwing the dart, I thrust my shoulder back and dug it into Brian’s diaphragm, causing him to stumble back and wheeze. Then I aimed and threw, and the dart landed pretty damn near the bullseye.

“You don’t know anything about me,” I retorted, arms folded over my chest. “I think it’s about time you left. I’m not going to ask twice.”

But Brian wasn’t looking at me. His eyes were fixed on something over my head, something like disbelief written on his face. “I think you’d best follow her advice, mate,” Harry’s voice came from behind me. One of his hands smoothed down my spine, coming to rest on my lower back. “We don’t want to cause a scene, yeah?”

Of course, the second Harry inserted himself into the situation made it a scene. The crowd of girls who’d been fawning over him were still hovering nearby, their eyes wide and their phones out. I could see the headline now: Harry Styles Defends Barmaid Against Her Tosser Ex-Boyfriend, Is Rewarded With The BEST Night—

Okay, so maybe I was getting carried away. But here he was, being a brilliant whatever he was, and I just wanted to kiss him. Brian’s eyes flicked between us. He hadn’t anticipated Harry getting involved, that much was obvious. So he nodded to his friends and they shuffled out, with Chris promising to come back in and pay their tab.

When they were gone, people went back to their own business (except for the avid fans). Before I could start breathing easily again, an arm dropped across my shoulders and my senses were overwhelmed with the powerful smell of Gordon’s and vodka. I knew it was Grimmy, because nobody else drank Vespers. He’d corralled Harry in on the other side, and his head lolled to the side while he spoke.

“Well aren’t you just a knight in shining armour?” Grimmy smirked. “Just the prince of chivalry and all that nonsense.”

“Yeah, okay. D’you need me to call you a cab, Grim?” Harry asked.

“Alexa’s taking me home,” Grimmy answered.

“Let’s go and get her then, shall we?”

The pub was starting to filter out at that point. It was half one, and I hadn’t even noticed. Charlie was even out telling people we were closing in thirty minutes, which usually meant finish what you’re drinking and then get out. I went back behind the bar and sighed, tugging the elastic out of my hair just so I could run my fingers through the mass of curls. But I’d been a terrible barmaid tonight — by my standards — so I figured I had best spend the last half hour being responsible. I grabbed the dish tub and gathered the glasses left behind by patrons.

It took two trips to get everything, and I stayed in the kitchen to help Archie load the dishwasher. He hadn’t been making chips for the last half hour, and was in and out of the kitchen to put away the clean glasses.

When I came back out, only a few customers remained. Harry was there, too, seated at the bar with a glass of water. He looked even more knackered than he had when he arrived, and I wasn’t at all surprised. I slid in between his stool and the one next to it, placing my chin on his shoulder. Harry’s mouth quirked into a half-smile, bringing out his dimples.

“Are you going to explain to me why I had to tell that bloke to leave?” Harry asked quietly. If the pub had been busy, I wouldn’t have even heard him. As it was, with the dull buzz of the telly the only noise, his voice barely raised above a whisper.

“He’s just a massive pain in my arse,” I replied, just a little bit louder than him.

The arm that had been between my body and Harry’s slid off the bar and went around my waist, pulling me against him. He sighed into my hair. “Ex-boyfriend?” he asked. I didn’t answer, so I assumed Harry took my silence as a confirmation. He sighed again. “How long ago did you split up?”

I hesitated. “Just over a month ago.”

Harry pulled back immediately so that he could look me right in the eye. “That’s when we met,” he said, and I dug my teeth into my lower lip. “So…I’m your rebound?”

I groaned. “Not this again.”

But Harry looked more amused than anything. “I suppose if I was your rebound you’d have been a bit quicker about getting me into bed, though. I had to get drunk just to get you to pay attention to me.”

“You got drunk on purpose?” I asked, thinking back to that Friday when he’d passed out in the car and I had to bring him back to my flat. That had started it all.

“No,” Harry admitted. “But it worked, didn’t it?”