Page 15 of Once Upon A Player
Violet
It’s almost the end of my Friday night shift at Sycamore Lodge, and Leonardo, a guest who checked in three days ago, is reading me some of his poetry.
“Fiery tresses blaze a storm across my soul,
Her eyes, unforgiving emerald, see far beyond the stars,
Alas! Her stone-cold heart eludes my withered touch.”
He snaps his notebook shut and gazes at me with puppy-dog brown eyes, a few blond tendrils of hair escaping his man bun and falling over his face.
I clear my throat. I know nothing of poetry and don’t have a clue what to make of the opus he’s just subjected me to, but I’m pretty sure about one thing.
“That’s me, isn’t it, with the stony cold heart?”
His sigh is dramatic. “The moment our eyes met, I knew I’d found my muse.”
According to Katie, Leo stays at the Lodge every July and discovers at least five muses to inspire him every time. When she told me this, I thought it was dead creepy, but she said, despite his drama queen theatrics, he’s one of the good guys. Seeing as Katie takes bullshit from no one, I reserved judgment. After all, one of the reasons I took this job was so I’d meet different people.
“When are you publishing your anthology, then?”
He drops his gooey expression and folds his arms on the counter between us. “I’m researching covers as we speak.”
“Have you talked to Lisle? She’s an amazing artist.” Lisle arrived as I was knocking off yesterday, but we got talking, and she ended up showing me some of her work.Amazingdoesn’t do her incredible portraits justice. Someone with that kind of talent should be raking in the money, not have to work minimum wage casual jobs to backpack around Europe in the hope of making it.
“Yeah, we hung out in the bar last night with the others. Her work’s great, but I’m looking for something more…” He pauses for dramatic effect. “Byronic.”
“Okay.” I nod, even though I don’t agree with his vision. Although, maybe his other stuff is dark and moody. Another guest comes up looking for some info on the local area, and the phone decides to go crazy, but finally, ten minutes after my shift ends, I leave.
For once, Katie and I aren’t doing the White Hart happy hour, and it doesn’t take long to drive to her place. I hope she’s ready to leave, because I’m starving. We’re going to a newly opened grill house, and it’s kind of sad that I’m so excited about it. Not about the grill house so much, but the fact I’m not spending a Friday night vegging out with Netflix.
I ring the doorbell, and she opens it straightaway. “Let’s go,” she mutters, taking my arm and frog-marching me back to the car. I guess her mum’s arsehole boyfriend’s drunk again. It’s the only time Katie gets that pinched look on her face.
And then I notice what she’s wearing—a short black skirt and rainbow heels to die for, and her makeup’s flawless. All I’m wearing is the Lodge uniform, and while it’s okay, it’s a freakingwork uniform.
“We’re just going to the Tower Grill tonight, right?” I double check as I start the car.
“That’s our first stop.” She flips down the sun visor and frowns at her reflection in the small mirror. “Then we’re going back to your place where you can change into something smoking hot. We’re going clubbing tonight.”
“I don’t want to go clubbing.”
“It’ll be fun. The girls are really nice. Nothing like back-stabbing, freak-faced Monica.”
My eye twitches the way it always does when her name is mentioned. “I know they’re nice. It’s nothing to do with them.”
Even though I haven’t seen Katie’s other friends for a while, we did hang out together a few times when Katie and I reconnected. Not that Monica joined us after the first time, since she reckoned they weren’t in her league.
Katie lets out a loud sigh. “Comeon, Violet. You need to do this. I’m all for studying hard to get ahead, but you really need to get out more. I know you’re over the fuckwit, but not all guys are like him.”
I’ve always known that, even if I didn’t want to face it. And I’ve met more new people in the last two weeks than I have during the whole of the last year. Although working at the Lodge means I don’t have as much time to spend on my assignments, it’s worth it. I don’t want to go back to my cave.
The image of Lucas’s sinful smile and Mediterranean blue gaze swims into my mind. I try and ignore the accompanying butterflies that swarm around my stomach, and manage not to let a dreamy sigh escape.
I’m seeing him again tomorrow morning. In a purely professional capacity, except it’s hard to make myself believe that. Sure, we talk business, and he hasn’t asked me out again, but there’s this sizzling undercurrent whenever we’re in the same room, and it’s crazily addictive.
Don’t fall for him.
I’ve lost count how many times my brain has told me that, but there’s no need. Just because he’s so easy to talk to and fun to be with doesn’t mean he’s starting to see me as anything more than a harder-than-usual conquest.
