Page 14 of A Wish for Jinnie
Jinnie punched her pillow, then punched it again. She pressed her cheek against the scrunched-up fabric and groaned.I want to sleep! Please, gods of all things to do with shut-eye, let me sleep!
Moments later, all was quiet downstairs. Jinnie flickered in and out of consciousness, something nudging her awake. Tomorrow. Her first night at The Jekyll and Hyde. She had to perform. She had to be good. She wished she could be an ace bartender…
Chapter 17
‘You look nice.’Ed smiled as Jinnie approached the bar, blushing at the compliment. Ken had assured her there was no dress code as such — smart/casual, he’d said — but she wanted to make a good impression on her first shift. A black faux-leather skirt that ended just above the knee, teamed with a fitted white shirt and chunky boots.
‘Meet Ray and Liz.’ Ed gestured to a middle-aged couple, clad in aprons and looking distinctly hot and bothered.
‘Good to meet you, Jinnie,’ said Liz. Ray nodded in agreement. ‘We’re the galley slaves, for want of a better description, and we need to get on with tonight’s menu so we’ll catch you later.’
Ed showed Jinnie where to hang her coat and bag, then they returned to the bar. It was just after seven and still very quiet, but Ed explained that it would fill up as the evening progressed and people were attracted by the food.
‘We’ve a few stalwarts who always come in for the beef and Guinness pie. It’s pretty special; Liz makes the lightest puff pastry you can imagine.’
Trying not to drool at the thought, Jinnie took her place behind the bar. Ed pointed out the various beer pumps and spirit optics, as well as the fridges and selection of wines.
‘Here are the measures for the wine — small, medium and large — and the cocktail shakers,’ he said. ‘We don’t serve that many, but — Oops, spoke too soon.’
A group of girls in their early twenties burst through the door, giggling and nudging each other. Despite the bitter cold, they were dressed for an Ibiza nightclub: tight, sleeveless dresses, and more fake tan than aStrictly Come Dancingcontestant. Jinnie couldn’t help noticing one had run out of tan at her calves; her stiletto-clad feet were snowy white.
‘Hiya, Ed,’ smouldered one of the girls, flicking her long, blonde hair away from her face. ‘Didn’t know you were in town, otherwise I’d have come in sooner.’
‘How’s your mum?’ enquired another, a wodge of pink gum visible as she chewed with open-mouthed fervour.
‘She’s not too bad, Kylie,’ Ed replied. ‘Good days and bad days. Now, what can I get you ladies?’
As they flicked through the drinks list, Ed whispered, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll deal with these. You sort out those two’ — he indicated a couple of men in paint-splattered overalls — ‘and I’ll fix the complicated stuff.’
Taking their order for two pints of Belhaven, Jinnie angled the glasses and began to pour. As she did, her toes began to tingle, and the feeling rose rapidly to her fingers. The sensation grew, as if an electric current was passing through her entire body.
Jinnie thrust the pints at the men and nudged a startled Ed aside. ‘I’ve got this,’ she declared, reaching for a couple of cocktail shakers. ‘OK, two Zombies, a Sex On The Beach and a White Russian coming up.’
Like a human whirlwind, Jinnie spun around and measured out the ingredients. Peach schnapps, vodka, cranberry and orange juice. She flipped a bottle in the air, twirled, and caught it behind her back. Oblivious to the gasps around her, Jinnie filled a shaker and agitated it at hyper-speed. On to the next one. Rum, brandy, more juice and a dash of grenadine. Swivelling her hips to an imaginary beat, she shook, and shook some more. Grab a glass, up it goes, catch it in the other hand. Drinks poured, on to the next one. Bailey’s, vodka and — dammit, where was the cream?
‘Jinnie, stop. Please … stop. You’re making me dizzy.’ Ed placed a hand on her arm, his other holding an opened carton of cream. She lunged for it, but he moved it out of reach. As she scowled at him, the tingling began to fade.
A smattering of applause rang out around the bar. ‘It’s bloody Tom Cruise in a skirt!’ one voice called out.
‘Woo hoo, darlin’. You available for private parties?’ shouted another.
Jinnie’s vision swam for a few seconds, and she felt her legs give way. In a flash Ed wrapped an arm around her shoulder and walked her around the bar to a stool. Jinnie breathed deeply, her nose pressed into Ed’s denim shirt. He smelled of something warm and spicy, with an under-note of cedarwood. Nice. Was it his deodorant or aftershave? She leaned in closer and —
‘Erm, Jinnie, why are you sniffing my armpit?’
Oops. She raised her head to find Ed with tears in his eyes. Tears of mirth rather than misery, she hoped. Yep, Ed was laughing, little crinkly lines emphasising those deliciously dark eyes.
Getting to her feet, the feeling of faintness already passed, Jinnie saw that her audience had lost interest and were back to the serious business of drinking and eating. Well,mostof them.
‘Any chance we couldhaveour cocktails?’ whined the blonde girl, looking distinctly put out. Jinnie couldn’t tell whether that was because she hadn’t been served yet, or she disapproved of Ed getting too close to her.
Finishing off the White Russian and working the till, Ed waited for Jinnie to return to the bar. ‘Are you OK?’ he asked. ‘If you need to sit down a bit longer, grab something to eat…’
‘No honestly, I’m fine. Sorry. Got a bit carried away, wanted to make a good first impression, you know how it is.’ Exceptheprobably didn’t. Jinnie didn’t have to be a genius to work out who (and what) was responsible for her new-found skills. She’d bloody throttle Dhassim when she got home.
‘Well, that was one amazing show. The locals haven’t been so entertained since Janette Cameron got hammered and treated them to her special Scottish version of the can-can. I thought you didn’t have much experience?’
Dig yourself out of this one, thought Jinnie, racking her brains. ‘I found a recipe book at home, for drinks and cocktails, and I, um, had a little practice run. Couldn’t find a shaker, mind you. Had to improvise with a coffee flask!’ She smiled sweetly, aware of the tell-tale flush signalling another porky-pie. Hopefully Ed wouldn’t notice, or put it down to her wobbly moment.
