Saving Grace [Jesse Fforde]

[Charlie]

The days were short, shorter than she ever remembered them to be in winter. Two years it had been since she’d last experienced temperatures this low, and the dark sky above, with its oppressive big clouds, made her yearn for Darwin’s late sunsets and muggy heat. Her travels in Australia were now part of a closed chapter however, and there was no turning back. Her initial excitement about the upcoming year in Canada was as at all time low, and the shite weather did little to lift her spirits.

Nuzzling her scarf to escape the night’s bite, Charlie wrinkled her nose in disgust at the lingering smell of cheap fried food. It was all she could afford these days, and she was starting to get sick of it. Her fingers furled and unfurled in her pockets, fighting the numbness settling into her joints. In spite of shopping for new clothes befitting the season, it wasn’t enough; the cold seeped through, rousing gooseflesh across her clothed body. She picked up her pace, eager to get out of the cold and back to the hostel.

“Charlie!”

A gruff voice had her stumbling, vertebrae cracking as she directed her attention to the pub across the road. Whoever had called out her name was not after her attention, and so, shaking off, she started to walk again, only to stop once suddenly. This time it was a sign that caught her eye:

NOW HIRING

Charlie’s brows arched high, eyes going wide as she glanced across the obstacle course of wrapped stock piled high on wooden pellets and, most notably, a considerably full skip bin.

SERPENTINE – OPENING SOON

By now Charlie knew better than to have any expectations, but there was an unmistakable coil within her gut telltale to excitement. Hope, as Nietzsche once wrote, was the worst of all evils because it prolonged the torments of man. There were only two ways to find out whether this could be the day’s saving grace, and that was to walk in and ask.

The familiar cadence of Irish favoured punk allowed for a skip in her step as she approached the venue through the front courtyard. In this weather, Charlie couldn’t imagine why someone would keep the door wide open, but she didn’t question it, instead taking it as an invitation. Her fingers curled into her palms, knuckles white as she repressed her anxiety and walked past the threshold.

It wasn’t what she expected.

Dumbstruck, Charlie stood in the makeshift foyer. The clash of old and new was unsettling, and her mind went into overdrive as it attempted to piece together what she was seeing. Then it dawned on her, it was only natural she’d be thrown off; never had she heard of such a thing as three-in-one bar-gym-tattoo parlour.

Clearing her throat, she stepped over a pile of... something.

“Hello?”

[Jesse Fforde]

Although the signs had all been pulled down, the change in name wasn’t official, yet. Jesse was waiting for the papers to come through, to sign. These things had to registered, official loopholes to be leapt through. It was a pain in the ***, but it wasn’t his first time at the rodeo. Serpentine was the new name; something far more general than the coupled Gresse’s. He had not heard from Grey for at least two months. The name no longer applied. Maybe it was rash. Maybe he should have talked to the woman; but the deeds were all in his name. He had the rights, the ability to do as he pleased. Sole ownership. Serpentine was less exclusive. It was a family theme. And regardless of how they shifted and changed, the family was always there. Would always be there.

For now, it wasn’t anything much. Jesse didn’t know any mechanics and the garage was being removed. It was a decision that Jesse had deliberated over; something that he hadn’t brought up with Clover, but which had caused him a glimpse of heartache. But he didn’t know any mechanics. The garage had been there for Grey only. There was no point in it, now. So it was going to be removed, the bar expanded. The tattoo parlour would be expanded, too, and he’d put out the call for another tattoo artist or two.

Leaving home, he had agreed to meet Clover later; they’d go over some more of the plans and continue with the renovations. Slow, but steady.

They had managed to remove all of the charred wood, and were in the process of adding new foundations. Skeletons, if there were any. Music blasted from the small Bose speakers - surprisingly loud for the small device. Jesse hummed to himself, but didn’t sing. Not yet. Not at the moment.

The humming stopped as soon as he heard the crunch of footsteps in the foyer. The feminine voice soon followed, and Jesse peered down from his height on the ladder. Despite the weather, he wore dirty jeans and a white tank - a hoodie was tied around his waist.

Three steps, and he was down off the ladder; from one of the rungs he snatched a rag and wiped at his hands.

”Hey,” he said, sauntering closer. He glanced around the place, before offering a slight smile. It was easier to do, these days. Smile.

”We’re not open for another couple of weeks…” he said. The renovations, he hoped, wouldn’t take much longer than that.

[Charlie]

Charlie had met her fair share of construction workers down under; most of them fellow British folk who had gotten their construction permits and earned good money in their highlighter-colour garments and hard hats. This was not the construction setup she was accustomed to, which in and of itself was answering questions she’d not even asked herself yet. Whoever this person, he was affiliated with management in some way. And severely under dressed.

His words processed, her shoulders dropped. A few weeks, he said. There was no way she could stretch her budget over more than a fortnight. Charlie was desperate for a job, and was willing to settle for any kind. Glancing around, she doubted she had much to offer to the gutted establishment.

“Aye, saw the sign out front,” she replied in turn, hoping to point out she wasn't daft. This place looked as far from any bar, gym, or tattoo shop she'd ever seen. To be fair, she could remember a handful of beaten up pubs back in Glasgow, though none as unfinished as this.

“I’m Charlie,” she said, extending her hand towards him.

“—I’m looking for a job.”

Any job, really.

[Jesse Fforde]

The first thing Jesse noticed was the humanity; the way the cold had bitten at Charlie's skin, bringing out the pink in her cheeks, the tip of her nose. Even her eyes seemed to have a sparkle to them, the tear-ducts working extra hard to keep the eyes moist and safe from the harsh, dry wind. He could imagine the body heat drifting out from behind that scarf; how it would have kept her neck warm, and the blood pulsing beneath...

...all of these thoughts he kept hidden behind an impassive gaze, one which did not drop from Charlie's own eyes. The rag was tossed over his shoulder, inked fingers extending to take Charlie's offered shake. If her hands were cold, it was to be expected, given the weather. If Jesse's hands were cold, the same excuse could be used. Given his state of dress (or un), he should be freezing. He could blame it on excessive physical labour.

"What kind of experience do you have? And what kind of job are you looking for? Artist, bar, or gym?" he asked. All offers were on the table. He knew that he needed some 'undead', but a human or two couldn't hurt - especially for the daytime hours. Perhaps, with better staff, Serpentine could thrive in a way Gresse's never had.

[Charlie]

Her shoulders’ itched to curl under the weight of his stare. There was something about him that made her feel uneasy, though she willingly cast suspicion onto the circumstance rather than his person. His skin wasn’t warm when they shook hands, but there was no other explanation than the weather and his poor choice of dress. Her hand dropped to her side, where it dangled for a few seconds before seeking refuge in her coat’s pocket.

“I’ve tended bar on and off for the past two years, and got duty manager at the last place I worked at back in Australia,” she replied with a noticeable sense of pride. Bartending wasn’t extraordinary a job in the grand scheme things, sure, but it had gotten her a long way from where she’d once been. And here she was now, all the way in Canada, with only a few miles left to complete her turn about the world.

“Know my way around gyms too, mind you.
Haven’t been to one in ages though; too busy drinking instead.”

[Jesse Fforde]

The girl didn't turn tail and run, which spoke volumes. There was a lift in her demeanour as she spoke of her experience and her raise, which had Jesse's lips curling in a vague hint of a further smile. A small one had rested on his lips since she'd come in; an amiable smile offered only when he was forced to be somewhat professional. His gaze still didn't shift its hold.

"There's three questions I have for you. Australia? You travel, then? Why should I hire you if I think you're just going to leave me in the lurch once you want to move on to the next place?" he asked. The girl had an accent; she wasn't from here. She was one of those who'd caught the travel bug and who flitted from bar to bar, cafe to cafe to get a little cash so that they could move on. Admirable, perhaps, to one who has never left the city he was born in. But a hitch, when he was an employer looking for an employee.

"Second - I'd really prefer you didn't drink on the job. That's not a habit of yours, is it? Given how fond you are of drinking?" he asked. She may have been joking - may have been trying to lighten the mood, lift the atmosphere, but Jesse wanted to see how she performed under pressure.

"Third - this isn't a regular gym. Know anything about parkour?"

[Charlie]

The moment it was out her mouth, she regretted it, and not because she didn’t stand by it, but because this wasn’t Australia. They didn’t joke as easily here, especially in this town. Still, she didn’t react to her thoughts outwardly. There’d be plenty of time to berate oneself later. For now, she allowed her smile to relax into its usual state of impartiality. After a quick glance at the space around them, she matched his stare.

“Drinking on the job would be irresponsible,” Charlie replied first, a subtle hint of severity seeping into her voice. Her father’s drinking had gotten him out of his job. In fact, her experience at home had given her plenty of coping mechanisms for dealing with the drunk at work. It was when they got physically abusive that she found herself at a loss.

Just because she favoured beers on the beach to exercise equipment did not make her a liability, and it became apparent that her words needed to be processed before being spoken. This guy was not someone to joke with; he’d kept his name to himself, keeping the plane uneven. Charlie’s level of discomfort increased upon realisation, but then she reminded herself this could just be a waste of her time. After all, he’d said a matter of weeks.

“I can’t give you a guarantee of how long I’ll stay, but I’ll give you a month’s notice, as I have with my past employers. As for parkour, it’s fun until you fall on your arse.”

A few blinks to appease the itch and her eyes refocused on his. Charlie wasn’t a fan of this conversation, not when they felt more like an interrogation than interview, but she had set herself up for it and was going to get through it.

“And that’s five questions, mate.”

So much for processing her words, but she needed a win, as petty as it was.

[Jesse Fforde]

A couple of months ago, this girl’s attitude would have been her undoing. The curse had hold of Jesse, his whole body alight and sensitive to any perceived threat. Anyone who disrespected him or undermined him had been at the mercy of his lashed tongue; or, if human, his sharpened teeth. Now, however, things were different. Normalcy had returned at long last and Jesse felt more like himself than he had for…. months. Maybe even years.

Not only did she not run for the door as soon as she had seen him, she stuck around to correct his ability to count. He had no idea what it was that had most of humanity running from him like he were the devil himself. He would not deny the fact that it gave him pleasure when they did. But, at times such as this, it would not have done them any favours. Charlie’s ability to withstand questioning and hold her own ground was to her own merit. She was doing herself a favour and she didn’t even know it.

Silence pervaded the space between them for a few seconds as Jesse considered, still smiling.

”Attention to detail. I see what you did there,” he said. ”Though I disagree. Falling on your *** is the best part. That’s the part that encourages you to get up and try again until you get it right,” he said, before he sighed and gestured to the building around him.

”As you can see, we’re not open yet. There was a fire. I used it as an excuse to renovate. Change the name. A re-brand. What I need most, to begin with, is someone to help me with that re-brand. Are you any good with computers? Social media? Even just… fielding phone calls, getting people here on time…?” he asked. There was no harm in giving her a trial. It would take a weight off their shoulders to have someone to deal with and watch over the builders during the daytime hours.

[Charlie]

Attention to detail. The words resonated and Charlie couldn’t quite put her finger on why. Then she realised it was because she’d spent far too many hours working and rewording her curriculum vitae over the past year. Mentally waving the thought away, she blinked and followed his arm with her gaze. The building was indeed in a sad state.

Funnily enough, her untameable curiosity didn’t extend to the source of the fire. A business aflame was no juicy story unless someone had lit the match on purpose. No, the details were probably so typical she’d be sorry she’d asked. Either way, he’d made it clear there were many answers she could die waiting for were she to ask him for them.

Then again, he didn’t seem displeased with her presence.

“I’m no Kardashian, but my follower count on Instagram isn’t too bad. I’ve used Twitter and Facebook to advertise the Sunday Sessions back in Darwin. Not sure what the scene is like here, but I don’t see why I couldn’t do it again...”

Charlie ran a hand through her hair, clawing at the back of her scalp and shaking out dirty-blonde tresses, freeing the handful from her scarf’s hold. Her hand dropped back into her pocket with a shrug, “And bossing people around comes easy, but what would the job entail exactly?”

If there was an offer on the table, then she’d want to know more. Desperate as she was to secure something by the end of the week, Charlie was hunting for security and a salary she could both live on and simultaneously save for travel. Past experience had taught her that sometimes the lesser of offers could provide the greatest rewards.

[Jesse Fforde]

The more that Charlie played with her hair, and moved around in her Winter gear, the more her scent muddied the air. The warmth of her, the steady beating-heart of her. Jesse had to really focus on thinking about something else to keep his mind off the blood; he’d fucked over his self-control before the holidays and his death, and it was like clawing out of a deep grave in the rain to get it back again.

But here he was, in the open, in public, in a place of his own making. A professional. An employer. Yes, an employer. It wouldn’t do good to munch on potential employees; to murder someone who might have been witnessed walking inside. The last they ever saw of her. No, Jesse knew better than to eat on home turf.

”There’s a schedule for maintenance, for tradesman to come do the things that I can’t do myself. If you were to start immediately, you’d be given access to that schedule. You’d be a bit of a secretary, making sure the tradesmen show up and answering the questions you can, and fielding the rest to me. Duty manager, yeah? So you could so some ordering. Downstairs is finished – that’s where storage is. When the place is up and running, if you have proved yourself worthy, the job on offer would be … well, duty manager. So?” he said, the words having dripped from his lips in a steady, husky cadence. All the while, he hadn’t taken his eyes from the girl. The woman. She had that kind of stature that she could be either or. Both? Didn’t matter.

”I’ll have to get references, of course. You are old enough to tend a bar, yeah?” he said, narrowing his eyes. A person could say whatever they wanted about themselves. People were capable of lies. Jesse’d have to make sure everything was above board before he hired anyone. The least attention brought to his place of business, the better.