Catching Waves

Part Twelve

The next morning, Caitlin leapt out of bed, dismantling the alarm before it could begin its nagging. She'd already been awake for an hour, strategizing and planning. Determined to ensure that today was going to be the first day she didn't have yesterday.  

Reg was marched for a good hour before being deposited with Harry and Sally. This left Caitlin plenty of time to prepare. Freshly washed polo shirt and clean jeans that did pleasing things to her bottom. Her hair was tucked away in a twist that she had christened bomb proof - it had once seen her through a half marathon directly followed by a pub session without spazzing out so could easily withstand the combined efforts of Austin and The Shack, thank you very much. Finally, Caitlin applied make up - subtly (she had no desire for Austin to think that she was titivating for him) but enough to hide behind; the usual licks of mascara followed by a wisp of blusher and her favourite Red Dahlia tinted lip balm. She kick started the Figaro and headed down the prom, Freedom! on repeat and repeat and repeat. What could she say? Sometimes, a bit of George sorted everything out. Least of all, jumped up bar managers.  

Five minutes before her shift started, she strode into the bar. Austin was polishing glasses. Upon seeing her, his wide mouth twisted into a smirk and he drew breath to say something unpleasant. But Caitlin beat him to it.  

"Yesterday, I let you order me around. I let you speak to me like crap and I let you humiliate me in front of Alice and her friends. And I hope you enjoyed it - because that was it. That was your one free go - you got that because I understand you're pissed off about me and Preston. But - and you should listen to this, because we won't be having this conversation again - you should remember, I didn't know Preston was engaged. He didn't tell me. So what does that make him? Hm? What does that make this man who's marrying into your family? Now, there's only one reason why I'm back here at all and that's for Lazurus and Margot. They think I'm going to bring class to this place! So in future, I will not be scrubbing urinals and I will not be clearing gutters. I will be serving drinks. Classily. And collecting glasses - classily. So. Any questions?" 

Caitlin breathed deeply through her nose, not about to allow the act of inhaling oxygen to disturb her very best teacher face, the one that arched her eyebrows and sharpened her cheekbones.  

Austin, who'd been rhythmically polishing the same spot on the same glass throughout her speech, continued looking at her for another couple of seconds but this didn't deter the teacher face, which had been programmed to last until the offending offender stopped offending. 

Finally he looked away, grunting "Nice speech. Is refilling the drinks fridge classy enough for you?" 

Caitlin nodded slightly and walked through to the kitchen to stow her coat and bag. Her face was calm but inside she was air punching with the best of them. She hadn't stuttered or flushed or trailed off - she'd said the whole thing perfectly, just like she'd practised. In his face. Hah. 

The shift played out beautifully. Austin and Caitlin ignored each other for the most part, he - balefully sticking to glass polishing and barrel changing, she - happily bantering with the locals who were enjoying the presence of the determinedly chirpy red head behind the bar. At times he shot off a sneer when he thought she wasn't looking and she would frequently roll her eyes when he was slow to move out of her way, but they generally managed to do a passable impression of two people who were most definitely not inhabiting the same space.  

Twenty minutes or so before Caitlin could christen the shift a bit of an awesome show stopping victory, game-set-match to HER, Preston walked through the door. She didn't notice at first, being busy wiping up a couple of spills and fending off the half-hearted advances from Gwyn, one of the regulars who was currently propping up the slightly wonky bar. "It would never work," she was informing him, gently, smiling "I'm really not your type, we'd argue all the time ..." she trailed off as she caught sight of Preston, whose purposeful stride trailed off as he caught sight of Caitlin. Gwyn, oblivious to the withering conviviality, shuffled off to the Men's, assuring Caitlin that she had nothing to lose from agreeing to a hot date with The Gwyn-a-tron (his words).