Just Business

Chapter Five: Marcia

"Are you sure that's what he meant?" Ally asked. "Seems a bit odd he would try and rub it in your face like that."

"It's my fault for mentioning the shop at all. I was just trying to point out how small Turners is, how it's not worth his time. But then I said something that probably came across as - oh god."

Marcia cringed at the memory.

"Oh god what?" Ivy asked.

"I probably sounded like some stuck up bitch. I started talking about how long my family has been in Challyton and running the shop, as if that made me important or something. All don't you know who my family are Draco Malfoy shit. No wonder he got bitchy back. He probably hates me!"

"Hate is definitely not the word I'd use. It's business, not personal. Not to say that makes it suck any less, but I don't think anybody hates you," Ally said. She then sigh, her tone turning gentle and soothing as if she were talking to a child. "It's not your fault this is happening."

Wasn't it? Maybe if Marcia had been nicer he wouldn't be trying to take the shop. Maybe if she had been more successful she would be able to pay what Mrs Chally was asking. Whatever way Marcia looked at it she only saw one thing: her own shortcomings.

Once on that track her brain barrelled onwards, crashing from one thought into another as it dragged her further and further down. Perhaps he suspected her crush on him, and was embarrassed enough to try and put some distance between them. At school, the suggestion Marcia had a crush on someone was enough to send their friends into peels of laughter. David was exactly the type she had been fascinated with. Athletic and jovial, but with friendly eyes. He looked like he would have been one of the popular kids at school, but one of the nice ones. The kind that may have spoken to her until she acted too weird and scared them off. She had gotten better as she had gotten older about scaring people away, but the fear was still an icy thorn in her side at all times.

She realised she was staring at David and forced herself to look down, swilling the last of her drink around her cup. Ivy and Ally watched her, having a silent conversation with each other Marcia didn't have the energy to follow.

"Do we want another drink here, or do we want to go back to that other pub?" Ivy asked, swallowing as she presented the second option. Marcia shuddered at the memory of the other pub, still tasting the acid of the ancient liqueur they had drunk there.

"No. We should stay here."

"Perfect," Ivy perked up. "Next round is on me."

Ivy hopped up, practically running up to the bar. David came up to serve her, and Marcia swallowed hard. Ivy did what Ivy does, leaning forwards, flicking her hair, and looking up at the man as if he were the most interesting, amazing person to ever grace the earth. Marcia knew that look well, and had often enjoyed the free drinks that followed its deployment. No straight man could resist that look, so Marcia almost pitied David. She told herself the jealousy was over being able to get any man's attention, not just this particular man.

Before meeting Lyon, Ally had been able to pull off a similar look that had men swooning. Ivy had tried to teach Marcia how to do it, but afterwards Marcia was certain it was not something that could be taught. The lessons had just made Marcia feel silly, and in her mind had proved that with people like Ivy and Ally walking around, Marcia would never be someone's first choice. Who would want the awkward Marcia when her cooler, hotter, better friends were behind her giving encouraging thumbs up.

The burning started in the back of Marcia's throat. It always did when she thought like that, beating herself into a corner. Somehow, she was both victim and perpetrator, the failed carer and the crying child. Alone at home she would let the emotions loose and sob until she was numb enough to sleep. But here she had to tamper them down. Now.

Her sudden, sharp inhale made Ally jump.

"Are you okay?" she asked. She asked that a lot these days.
"Yeah," Marcia replied. "Perfectly fine."

"There's nobody fun at the pub tonight," Ivy complained, sliding a tray onto the table. The order had grown (as it usually did when Ivy was buying) to include shots as well as pints.

"Couldn't convince anybody to buy the drinks for you?" Marcia summarised.

"Nope. Richard would, if he was here."

As would any number of other men.

"Shit," Marcia said, realisation dawning on her. "I never paid for my round."

"And the barman didn't make you?" Ivy asked.

"He must have forgotten with everything we were talking about."

Marcia started to get to her feet.

"Or he likes you!" Ivy squealed. Marcia gave her a deadpan look, certain that wasn't the answer.

"Either way, where are you going?" Ally asked.

"To pay."

"Why?"

"I don't want to take his pity pints."

"Pity Pints? Marcia, I don't think - "

But she was already gone. Marching with purpose, Marcia crossed the room much too quickly. When she arrived at the bar she had no idea what she was going to do or say. Fast thinking had never been her strong suit, especially not if a handsome man was looking at her. And a very very attractive man had fixed his attention solely on her.

"What can I do for you?" David asked and Marcia thought about how unfair it was that anybody could have a voice that sexy. Deep and smooth as a lake on a summer's day, and she wanted to go skinny dipping.

"I'd like to pay for my drinks!" Marcia said too quickly, the thought of her and David skinny dipping invading her brain. His eyebrow shot up, a smirk playing at his lips.

"You want another round? I thought your friend only just got one," he said, folding his arms as if in acceptance of a challenge.

"No, the ones we already had."

"Your friend paid for the round she just took."

"The one before that," Marcia said, caught between exasperated and flustered. "The round I got. I never paid for it."

"Oh," he said, drawing the word out and snapping his fingers as if suddenly remembering. "That round. . . Nah, forget about it."

"Why?"

"Because I say so, and this is my place."

"But I want to pay," Marcia explained.

"I don't want you to."

He lent forwards, bracing his hand on the bar so they were at eye level. It made his muscles flex in a way Marcia wished she hadn't noticed.

"You don't want my money?" she asked.

He shrugged.

"Not really."

"Is it not good enough for you?"

"Money is money," he replied. "And right now, I don't feel I need any more."

"And you think I need it?"

"I have no clue what you need or don't need. What you do with it is of no concern to me. Keep it, spend it, donate it. You can even buy another round. But those drinks you had earlier? I've already decided to let them go. They're all yours."

"But why?" she asked, almost desperate. Just when Marcia thought she had finally gotten a grip on how people worked, situations like this one threw her back more steps than she'd taken forwards.

"I don't really know," David responded. "My best guess is that I find you interesting, Marcia Turner. And I think we have a lot to talk about."

"Funny," Marcia replied, backing away. "Because I have nothing else to say to you."

Marcia went back to her table, batting away any questions from her friends. Finally, she dared to look back at the bar. David was still looking at her, sending pinpricks of attention through her body.

Oh God. What was she going to do?