Rose's Rush Hour.

Chapter Twenty-three

Callum

I was nervous and queasy. The pub before me felt foreign, but its open doors seemed to call out only to me to fulfil the purpose that had brought me here.

A large hand on my shoulder made me flinch but I immediately calmed at my brother Ben’s reassuring voice.

“Don’t worry about it, champion. You’ll do just fine.”

Another large hand fell on my other shoulder, followed by Abe’s voice. “If you could survive McGregory’s farm and our body building tasks, you can surely survive this.”

My body still ached from the heinous tasks at McGregory’s farm, but it would be better in the morning. Would I ever recover if things didn’t go as planned with Rose?

“Let’s head in.” Abe gave me a hard slap on the back, shoving me forward.

I loved my brothers, but they could be bullies sometimes.

The inside was already packed with people chattering away as they enjoyed their drinks. To the left was the counter and in the left corner were the stairs that led to the rooms on the first floor. Up ahead was the platform, or stage for the performers and next to it in the right corner was a pianoforte.

The three of us managed to find an empty table and a waitress with blonde curls came to take our orders.

“Two lazy eyes and a water for the little one,” Abe placed his order and ruffled my hair.

I didn’t know what lazy eyes was, but it didn’t sound inviting. I patted down my hair to organise it while my gaze flicked around the place in an attempt to search for anyone else I recognised – like Ed and Rose, for example.

The pub owner, Mr. Stuart, finally took the stage and whistled to get everybody’s attention.

He was clad in black trousers and a white button-up, with a red bow tie and cream coloured fedora. He was a rather tall bulky man, with a thick beard and a curled moustache. He accessorised with a golden necklace and some rings. His sleeves were rolled up, showing black and red ink on his buff arms – but I couldn’t tell what kind of tattoo it was.

“Alright, how’s everybody doing!” he boomed.

The people cheered and hooted in response, some raising their glasses.

Mr. Stuart nodded. “Great response. And without further ado, let the Entertainment Saturday Show begin!"

He bowed as the crowd cheered and clapped their hands.

The first performance was a stand-up comedy from a short man with a tiny voice.

“Thank you,” I said to the waitress as she handed me my water. Out of curiosity, I peeped into Abe’s glass but frowned when I saw the brownish yellowish liquid inside.

He smirked at me. “Want a taste? Perhaps it could give you some courage for later.”

I shook my head no.

“That’s too bad,” Ben said on my right. “It would be amusing to watch.” He lifted his glass and took a swig, smacking his lips and releasing a hiss from his throat. The drink seemed to burn.

I turned my attention back to the little man, who was making the audience howl with laughter from his jokes. I hardly paid attention because my mind was elsewhere. Magicians and people with odd talents like mimicry came on and went. It was alright, I suppose. But I was too distracted thinking about Rose to fully enjoy it.

As the applause died down from the previous tap dancer, a woman went up the stage from the counter side.

Ben nudged me. “Oi, it’s ya girl.”