The Last Holiday by Amy Sheppard

Author:Amy Sheppard [Sheppard, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781837905850
Published: 2023-05-29T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

STELLA

Two days before

We climbed out of the taxi. The bar was down the far end of town. It wasn’t an area we used to come as teenagers. We used to hang out in the old part. The pubs there were more lenient with underage drinkers and the beer was cheaper.

The street was getting busy. Groups of young women tottered on high heels under the glare of orange streetlamps. Men in tight shirts and jeans moved like packs between bars. It was Monday night. Most towns would be quiet at this time. But Porthaven was a college town. It was always busy.

Kelly strode confidently up the steps to the entrance. The restaurant was called the Blue Room. The name was written in enormous navy neon lights. The words hung over the glass-fronted eating area. It reminded me of some of the bars in Spain. White stone steps and patio, tall manicured shrubs in pots.

You had to walk through the dining room to get to the bar. It was filled with customers. Almost every table was crowded with people. The noise hit us like a wall as we pushed open the heavy glass doors. There was a long table in the middle that seated about twenty women. Helium balloons were tied to the legs of their table. It looked like it was a birthday party. I had never wanted to be somewhere less than I did the Blue Room.

A waiter showed us to the bar downstairs. It was dark and modern and smelt like sweet vanilla. Most of the tables were empty. Small and low with colourful undersides. Each one was surrounded by upholstered cube stools in dusky pastel shades. The bar was submerged almost entirely in darkness. The only light came from behind the optics, illuminating the bottles of liquor and the smartly dressed barman.

‘Here we are,’ said Kelly, taking us over to one of the side tables. In the centre was a small plastic card that read ‘reserved.’ ‘What’s everyone drinking?’ she asked. We all muttered that we didn’t know. ‘Come on!’ she persisted. ‘This is supposed to be our night!’ she pleaded, swaying her hips to the low-level bass music. We all followed her obediently to the bar. Kelly rested her elbows on the black polished wood and batted her eyelashes at the barman. ‘Two bottles of white wine… a good Chardonnay,’ she instructed him, holding up two fingers to indicate what she needed.

The barman pretended not to notice her rudeness. I smiled at him apologetically. He placed four sparkling glasses on the bar and the wine bottles in buckets filled with ice. He told Kelly the price and she quickly held out her card without looking at him. A moment later he returned and leaned in close to Kelly, trying to be discreet. ‘I’m afraid your card was rejected,’ he told her quietly.

‘That’s impossible. Try it again,’ she barked at him. Kelly didn’t care if we heard.

He cleared his throat. ‘I’ve already tried it twice.’

‘Try it again,’ she said slowly through gritted teeth.

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