BANALITY : Draco Malfoy

04

I manage not to see him at the inn again. Maybe it's the hours I work. Maybe it's a coincidence. Maybe he's left Inverness altogether. Still, I get the feeling that he meant what he said when he promised to see me soon. Why would he promise to see me again but then also leave town?

I don't work another shift with Graham until Friday. My other coworkers aren't as much of a bother as he is, seeing as most of them are older women who do cleaning. One of the other men who work in reception has eyes that linger too long whenever I'm cleaning the lobby. He must be especially creep to leer at me while I'm in my smelly uniform.

On Friday morning when I arrive, there is a note from the night shift that one of the guests puked on the couch the night before. They used vomit comet to stop the smell, but didn't want to wake up the guests with the noise.

Nightshift housekeeping always pushes the job off on to us. The cleaners are designed to be silent. They would know if they ever bothered to use them. I can't help but wonder what the fucking cleaning guy who works weeknights even does over his shift other than collect his hourly wage.

So, I am stuck in the lobby with Graham while I clean the sofa. The vomit comet has kind of seeped into the couch and caused even more damage. I begin to scrub at it with a toothbrush in the kit, hoping to flake off the smelly food. My brain tries not to wonder what I am cleaning up. It could be grouse since tourists love to go and shoot their own grouse and have it made. However, I doubt someone with that kind of money would stay at this inn instead of a castle. Fish is also popular. Also, there is always haggis. My money is on some shitty American not being able to stomach the stuff but wanting to impress their friends by ordering it anyway.

At least Ali is sensible enough not to try to show off.

"You ready for Vanish tonight?" Graham calls over at me.

Honestly, scrubbing vomit off a sofa in the early hours of the morning makes me less inclined to get piss drunk at a club tonight, "I don't remember agreeing to go."

"Oh, don't play pretend, Ali already told John that you agreed to come," he finishes.

I want to correct him. I did not agree to come. Ali and Amanda did ask, and I told them I would consider their invitation. Then, Ali begged and pleaded, and Niamh asked if we could keep it quiet for ten minutes so she could finish whatever chemical equation was giving her trouble. An hour later, Ali asked when I was done working today, and I told her I was only working the morning shift. Ali then squealed that I'd be home in time for her to do my hair and for us to drink a bit before we left.

So, I guess my lack of protest was the answer she had wanted.

"I'm still deciding," I tell him. A chunk comes off the couch, and I use my gloved hands to throw it in the trash.

"Don't know how you stomach that," he says.

I turn to see his hand over his mouth, his skin tinged a shade paler.

"Are you feeling faint?" I ask, a small smile on my face.

"It's disgusting," he points out.

I shrug, turning back. Hopefully, he will get so turned off by my behaviour that he will eventually stop talking to me. Another chunk comes out and another. I exhale a deep breath and close my eyes, hoping to be anywhere but here.

It could be worse. Last summer, before I moved in with my flatmates, I worked as a fish vaccinator. That was a strange and often gross job if there ever was one.