Page 6 of Date with Destiny

‘Almost none,’ he tucks his head between my shoulder and neck. ‘I was mostly just chilling out.’ He shrugs against me.

‘Maxin’? Relaxin’? All cool?’

He nods. ‘Shooting some b-ball outside of school.’

‘Did a couple of guys, who were up to no good, start making trouble in your neighbourhood?’

‘Exactly that,’ he nods solemnly.

‘OK,’ I spin around, taking the bottle from his hands and sloshing suspicious liquid into glasses. ‘Let’s do this.’ He laughs as we clink glasses.

I feel a rush of pride that I can make this gorgeous man happy. I will make himsohappy, I know I can.

OK, so I’m not excited about the wedding itself, and the next hellish few weeks leading up to it, but if I can just survive it, Daniel and I will be married. And Iamexcited to marry him. We’re going to bemarried! And I’m going to make him so happy.

That fortune teller didn’t know what she was talking about.

CHAPTER THREE

Across the room, I catch my sister’s eye and she gives me the signal.

Swallowing a sigh, I paste on my Helping Face.

A sleazy-looking guy is lounging across the counter as I approach, asking the same question she hears all the time: ‘So is your dad’s name “Tony”?’ He gestures at the name tag on her left boob, making no attempt to hide the simultaneous leering.

‘Er, no,’ Toni replies, and only I can detect the bone-deep sigh in her voice.

‘Howisyour relationship with your dad?’ He leans even closer, trotting out a line he no doubt read in one of those disgusting pick-up advice books. The ones that teach idiotic men that women are all vulnerable, emotional, jealous hags with daddy issues.

And onlysomeof us are like that.

‘How are you getting along?’ I ask in my best professional voice. ‘Can I help at all?’ Sleazo looks annoyed by the interruption but straightens up off the counter.

‘No, no, I think Toni here has got it covered.’ His eyes trail lazily across my breasts but, finding them underwhelming, he returns his gaze to Toni’s more curvaceous chest. Instinctively I pull my hair from my shoulder to cover my nametag.

For some reason, men like this seem to feel they have a weird kind of power over you – like they think they own a little bit of you – when they’ve learned a personal detail like your name.

‘Unfortunately, we need Toni in the back office,’ I lie, directing myself at her. ‘YourboyfriendShawn is on the phone.’ I see her tense shoulders relax by millimetres as I turn back to the customer. ‘But I’m available if you’d like to see anything else, sir?’

He is undeterred. ‘Weeeeell…’ He huffs out his chest and I get a hit of Lynx Africa wafting off him. ‘If Toni leaves for herboyfriendat this crucial moment, you’re going to lose a sale here.’ His tone is playful but it’s clear he’s a man used to getting his own way. ‘I work in sales, too, see? And we all know building a relationship – abond– with the customer is key.’ He leers at Toni again. ‘AndToniand I have bonded quite nicely. You wouldn’t want to ruin that, would you?’ He turns back to me, eyes swivelling across my chest as he tries to locate my nametag under all the hair. I feel a small catch of triumph as he frowns, failing. ‘And I was planning on spendingbigtoday,’ he adds teasingly. Behind him, I catch the tension returning to Toni’s shoulders. ‘What do men’ – there is that assumption, always – ‘spend on engagementrings these days?’ he asks, the supercilious note still there in his voice. ‘On average, two, three grand I’d guess, right?’

I suppress a sigh.

There are so many plus points to working for the family business, a luxury jewellery store, Celeste’s Stones. But today seems to be mainly lows.

I demur, unwilling to admit he’s in the right area. I wouldn’t tell him, not even if he was actually a decent human being. Celeste says money is gauche; we’re not even allowed price tags on our stock. She gets this sour look on her face when someone asks how much a certain ring or bracelet is. And, on the very rare occasion she’s actually in store and working these days, she always hands over the payment part to me or Toni. Honestly, I think she’d rather let clients wander off with a £50k ring than actually go through the horrifying process of asking for money from them.

‘And I was planning on spending upwards of £10k on a ring,’ Sleazo continues. ‘To be honest, Toni,’ he still can’t see my name and I swear in that moment to never cut my hair short again, ‘I’m really only getting this,’ he gestures now with a sneer at the array of rings behind glass, ‘to stop the little lady from nagging so much.’ Rolling his eyes, he does the puppet hand to represent his future wife daring to speak. ‘She’s seriously high maintenance but her dad’s my boss, so what are you going to do?’ He laughs like none of this is a problem.

But then, you’d be surprised how many men come in here to buy an engagement ring for their future wife and behavelike this. Poor Toni often gets the brunt of it, being so young and so buxom. It’s like a lot of men feel they have to pretend they’re notreallyin love. Because being in love is a silly, emotional,femalething, of course. Many of our male clientele come in and do this little song and dance about being ‘tied down’ and how they’ve ‘given in’ on the marriage decision. It happens less than it did ten years ago, when I first started working here at the store, but I’m sad to say the male ego is still alive and repugnant.

I’m really glad Daniel’s not like that.

‘Excuse me,’ a female voice behind me clears her throat and I turn away from Sleazo, abandoning my poor sister to her fate.Sorry Toni, I tried,I internally whisper as a young woman who can’t be more than twenty-one waves anxiously at the rings. ‘I’d love some advice on all this stuff.’

‘Of course!’ I say warmly. ‘Anything in particular you’re looking for?’

‘Well, I want to buy a ring…’ she hedges and my smile gets wider.

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