Page 17 of Hearts Colliding
Ryan looked across, and was met with a wave, a grin, and a finger pointing to his own FREE LOVE! adorned chest.
“Fucking hell, Joss, don’t say that. Anyway, how do you know he’s not looking at you? Seriously, though, why’s it me taking the lead on this? Charles, Oliver, any number of people would be so much better.”
“Of course there must be somebodytechnicallybetter at all this kind of thing, but that’s not the point. Don’t underestimate yourself. Remember what Oliver said? You’ve got a shed load of respect, and the fire and passion to go with it. That’s why you’re our Supreme Leader.”
Ryan snorted. “You reckon? More like nobody else wants to put themselves into the firing line.”
“I wouldn’t say that. There isn’t anybody on the war council who doesn’t have the balls to say what they think. But you’ve become the driving force, whether you meant to or not. Think of all the improvements you’ve made to the pub since taking a bigger hand in the running of the place.”
“What are you talking about.”
“Cocktail making events. Open mic nights. Gin workshops and tastings.” Joss counted them off on his fingers. “All of them, and more, were your idea. The Arms has gone from a decent pub into a, oh what’s it called?” Joss frowned as he snapped his fingers. “A destination venue. Yeah, that’s it. And it’s you who’s been the driving force. If you can work wonders with the pub, why not with the campaign?”
Ryan rolled his eyes. Joss was overstating it, but a flame of pride warmed him from the inside out, because his innovationshadseen more customers come through the doors, and a lot more money in the till. But he knew the pub business, he could read what his customers wanted before they knew it themselves, but going up against a wealthy property developer…?
“You’ve got this, Ry.”
“You think?” He wasn’t sure he shared Joss’ optimism.
Joss nodded and leaned in closer. “I’ve never seen you like this. So fired up. I get being nervous, but aren’t you excited, too, about facing off against Alex? And don’t forget, the rest of us have got your back. And that lot, too.” Joss tipped his head towards the army of elderly ladies trooping into the hall and taking their places.
“Oh, god…”
Every single one wore the uniform of resistance, FREE LOVE! spread across matronly bosoms.
“Gran’s been doing colours since before seven this morning.”
Joss didn’t need to elaborate. Doreen, owner and sole employee of the mobile salonHair by Doreen,did a brisk trade in coloured rinses for the more mature members of the village community. Mauve, green, orange, blue, the colours of the rainbow and a whole lot more, brightened the curly permed, bouffanted and backcombed hair of the chatting, laughing ladies who were settling down into their seats.
“If Alex has any sense he’ll make a run for it as soon as he sees that lot, and forget about this place forever. But talking of Alex Love, where is he? When I went to the New House and gave him the invite, he said he’d come and answer any questions.” Joss looked at his watch. “He’s leaving it a bit late, though. Or maybe he’s going to make a grand entrance. Who knows? Oh, there’s Oliver.” Waving to his fiancé, Joss rushed to join him.
The wall clock ticked the minutes down. Ryan glanced towards the door, but there was no sign of Alex. Flexing his shoulders, he attempted to loosen the hard knots holding them tight. Whether or not Alex turned up, it was up to him. He’d been given his invite, and the opportunity to sell his warped vision of the village’s future.
Ryan rubbed the back of his neck. Did he really want Alex to show up? Did he really want to go head to head with him, in front of what felt like the entire village? He rubbed harder. He didn’t know what he wanted.
Less than ten minutes to go. The war council all took their reserved seats in the front row. Joss settled himself at a fold-up table to the side, his small laptop open and ready to take notes. He’d offered to set up a PowerPoint presentation, but Ryan had said no. Everybody had seen the plans, there’d be copies available at the meeting… Plus he’d look a dick and would lose credibility if he screwed it up, but he kept that nervous nugget to himself. A few more minutes and the meeting would have officially started, and still Alex hadn’t shown up. About to make his way on leaden legs to the small stage, he threw a final glance towards the door — and stopped.
Amidst the loud chatter and charged excitement in the hall, nobody noticed the lean, still, man hovering in the doorway.
In dark jeans and hoodie, his hands stuffed into his pockets, Alex Love melted into the crowd.
There was no sign of his customary Barbour, and no sign either of the corporate hot shot, all sharp suit and swept back hair that Ryan had seen in the very, very few photos he’d been able to unearth of Alex the C.E.O. online. The man looked younger and of no threat, every shred of hard nosed developer and wrecker of the community carefully tucked out of sight. Ryan breathed deep, holding on to his mounting anger. Once again, Alex Love had caught him on the back foot. Alex hadn’t dressed to impress but to calm and reassure.
Ryan made his way across. Heads turned towards him, and the bright chatter filling the hall dropped to a low level hiss as the villagers realised the enemy had arrived.
“There’s a good turn out,” Alex said quietly.
“What did you expect? Nobody’s prepared to be shafted by you.”
Ryan bit down on his tongue to stop his agonising groan from escaping. Being shafted by Alex… He needed to pushthatthought right out of his head.
“I’ve never shafted anybody who hasn’t wanted it,” Alex said, his voice a lazy drawl. “Nice T-shirt, by the way. So, shall we begin?”
Silence filled the hall as Ryan mounted the stage, picked up his notes from a small table, and acknowledged the encouraging smiles of the rest of the war council in the front row.
Hundreds, thousands, millions of pairs of eyes stared at him. Ryan’s heart pounded in his chest, and a single drop of sweat tickled its way down his spine. He looked down at his notes, the papers clutched hard in his hands, but the typed words made no sense. Stuffing them into his pocket, he looked up, silently counted to three, and began to speak.
“Thank you all for coming this evening, it’s heartening and encouraging to see so many here.” He licked his dry lips. The only villagers who hadn’t turned up were the ones six feet under in the graveyard. “We all know why we’ve made the decision to come, rather than watch EastEnders or The Great British Bake Off. Or prop up the bar at the Arms — we’ve got some good fruit infused artisan gin on promotion at the moment, so make sure you call in on your way home.” A wave of good humoured laughter swept through the hall, easing his nerves.
