Open Doors

OPEN DOORS

GRACE HUDSON

ISBN: 978-1-944788-59-9

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and events are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual person, living or dead is purely coincidental.

Rev:1a

Copyright©2016 Grace Hudson.

Cover by Sanura Jayashan

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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This book is dedicated to my muse, and all the muses out there.

– 1 –

I hate everyone, Sean muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

He leaned his face on his palms, elbows catching on the edge of the wooden bar, the stool precariously wobbling beneath him. It didn’t particularly matter tonight, there was no-one around to hear. Steve usually came along with him on Thursdays but this night was different. Steve had met ‘the one’, at least for the moment. Sean had pretty much lost count of how many times Steve had raved on about each of his new girlfriends, how perfect they were, how utterly made for him, how this time, she was ‘the one’. At some point he’d inevitably begun to grumble here and there about unusual habits or differing tastes in music. After a while, it seemed that Penny, or was it Sherri, it didn’t matter now he supposed, would never grasp the brilliance of Audioslave, so she had to go. Sean didn’t mention that he wasn’t their biggest fan either, but Steve wouldn’t have cared either way. Well, he would have, but it would have been a friendly argument, besides, there were different rules when it came to friends. Steve was firm on this point. If she was to be the one, she had to be perfect, and that was non-negotiable.

So his best mate Steve was out at some restaurant he hated, dressed in clothes he didn’t like, trying to impress a girl who would no doubt disappoint him on some important matter like whether Stephen King was a better author than Jack Kerouac. Sean swirled the now warm dregs of his beer in his glass that smelt faintly of fish. He gave them two months, give or take.

Sean didn’t even want to think of his own love life, or lack thereof. Relationships were things that happened to other people. Other people who didn’t hate everyone in the entire universe, a universe that was currently conspiring to thwart him at every turn. He refused to think about his own, pathetic, rather tragic, and non-existent relationships. The last relationship had been a disaster, and the one before that had finished before it had even started. He had resigned himself to the reality that the person he was looking for, the one that was right for him and no-one else, simply did not exist. He took another whiff of his glass, confirming that it still smelt like fish and pond scum. He ran his finger around the rim of the glass, absently wondering when it was they had last cleaned the beer taps, or the pipes for that matter.

Excuse me, an unfamiliar voice piped up to his left.

She was leaning against the bar, trying to get the attention of the bartender. As she gestured wildly, he took a moment to look. She was pretty tall, with reddish hair and nice eyes. They looked green in this light but he couldn’t be sure. And she was having no luck with getting the attention of the bartender, who favoured the rather busty, overly tanned, orange specimen at the end of the bar who seemed to already have her drink order in front of her. Sean put his fingers in his mouth and whistled.

The bartender turned around, lips pursed in annoyance. He flicked the black hand towel over his ridiculously muscled shoulders and sauntered reluctantly over to Sean. Yes?

Sean looked at the woman next to him and muttered, I believe you wanted to order a drink.

She smiled politely, glancing sideways at him.

Sometime this century, he added.

Her smile grew wider and she snorted. Just a Guinness, thanks.

The bartender snapped the handle and tilted the glass, filling and refilling every few moments, letting it settle. Sean smirked. A Guinness took more time to pull than most other drinks, leaving the bartender’s chances slimmer and slimmer with the Oompa Loompa at the other end of the bar. This night seemed to be improving. When the drink finally reached the bar, sure enough, the tanned girl had moved on, speaking to a snappily dressed guy with far too much of what looked like motor oil in his hair.

She settled on the stool next to his. Hey, thanks for that.

He gestured to her extra large pint glass. Do you know how many calories are in one of those?

Nope. And I don’t give a rat’s arse.

I’m Sean.

She looked blankly at him for a moment before regaining her composure. Tam. Tamsin, actually but I hate that name so Tam it is. I hate my parents for giving me this name and I’m seriously thinking of changing it to something better.

Tam’s alright. It could be worse, like Ignatia or something.

Where the fuck did you hear the name Ignatia? You just made that up, didn’t you?

No, I think it’s really a name. In a book or something… or I could have made it up, I don’t really know.

So why are you here by yourself? And why are you still staring at that beer like it’s going to grow back?

Because everyone sucks and I hate my life.

She threw her head back and laughed, hair bobbing from side to side. Wow. Tell me what you really think.

Okay then, I’m sitting here on my own because my friend Steve, who is supposed to be here, by the way, is at some horrendous restaurant, ordering crepes de crappe when he’d really rather be having a steak, and he’s making awkward conversation with a girl he likes even though he’s only known her for eight days but she’s apparently the one, just like the last one, and it has nothing to do with the fact that she happens to be pretty and looks kind of vacuous. So I’m here alone, with my beer, which smells like fish…

He shoved the glass towards her nose as she took a sniff, grimacing and pulling her head to the side.

…and most people I know suck and beer is my friend. Fish or not.

You’re a weird guy.

Sean grunted, pushing his beer to the side of the well-soaked Heineken mat. I’m not very good at talking to people.

Me neither. My friend Amy thinks I talk too much and scare people away. I get kind of nervous around new people and then I overshare and then people look at me like I’m a mutant and they go and bugger off. Last week I had to go to my sister’s engagement party and I was stuck at a table with relatives that I hadn’t seen since I was about five years old. Do you know how many times I heard about how much I’d grown?

Sean shook his head, vaguely signalling the bartender from across the bar.

I mean, no crap. I was five the last time they saw me, now I’m thirty-one. No shit I’ve grown.

Sean snickered.

I don’t know, I just try to go with the flow, I guess. Hey, I just made a QOTSA reference.

Sean’s eyes widened as he turned to face her.You know Queens of the Stone Age?

Tam looked at him as if he had lost his mind. Um, yeah. Of course I do.

The bartender rematerialised before them. He glared at Sean as if he had personally insulted him. Yes?

Sean continued to study Tam, tilting his head. He turned to look at the bartender, glancing back to Tam. Uh, a VB if it’s not too much trouble, mate.

The bartender snarled and wandered off to pull Sean’s beer.

What is that guy’s problem? Did you do something to him in a past life or something?

Sean snickered again. I think I just blew his chances with the orange girl over there.

Tam followed his gaze, fixing on the girl in question. She was petite, perhaps five foot three in heels, with a tight black lycra top and an even tighter hot pink miniskirt. Her nails were clearly false, with some kind of Grand Prix pattern adorning the deadly-looking talons. Her skin was so dark that in the dim light of the bar she seemed to glow a faint orange. Her teeth were bleached, and her bottle-blonde mane was beefed up with excessive hair extensions. Her eyes were an almost electric blue, most likely from coloured contacts.

Tam was speechless for a moment, sneaking a sidelong glance to Sean and back again to the orange girl. I… is there anything on her that is actually real? I can’t imagine taking that much trouble over looking like that.

I hope you don’t ever do that. You’d look ridiculous.

Yes, thank you. I believe I would.

She took another look at the orange girl. That’s outrageous, I can’t get my head around it. Why would someone… It must take hours to put all that together. All I do in the mornings is have a shower, wrap my hair in a towel, put on a smidge of makeup and wander out with my hair still wet. I don’t think I even own a blowdryer, or if I do, it probably doesn’t work anymore.

Sean snuck a look at her hair, it looked like it didn’t need anything special to make it look good.

She turned away from studying the orange girl and the motor oil guy. You know what, you probably did him a favour. She looks a tad high maintenance.

I don’t think he was thinking of starting a long-term relationship with her.

I should hope not, could you imagine? All that brown stuff on the pillow, hair extensions everywhere. Contacts, fake nails, when she took it all off, you probably wouldn’t recognise her.

That reminds me of a song I heard when I was a kid. I’m not going to sing it for you, by the way, I wouldn’t subject you to that sort of torture.

Tam raised an eyebrow, challenging him. Oh, come on, I won’t laugh.

Really? You’re seriously going to regret this.

Come on.

Fine.

He began to sing, low voice rumbling in her ear. He sang of glass eyes, hair dye, a woman removing the trappings of beauty after the ball.

Her eyebrows raised even higher, a smirk creeping at the edges of her mouth.

He sang of false nails, false teeth in water, the lyrics returning to him clearly from an unknown source.

Tam’s face was red, straining to keep a straight face.

By the time he got to the lyrics about the cork leg, Sean and Tam broke down, doubling over and cackling. Sean slapped his knee in time with his laughter, and Tam’s eyes streamed with tears as she struggled to keep it together.

The moment was broken when the bartender cleared his throat and pushed Sean’s beer towards him. Sean and Tam looked at him, then back to each other again and lost it, flailing and descending into a full-blown laughing fit. The bartender shook his head and sauntered off, making them start all over again.

Where the hell did you learn that song?

My grandma taught it to me when I was a kid. I made her sing it over and over again because it made me crack up every time I heard it.

That’s awesome. You know, you don’t have a bad voice at all. I quite liked it.

Sean blushed slightly and turned away. My Dad used to think it was better if I didn’t sing. I don’t know why, but he shut me up every time I tried to sing something.

He’s an arse. No offence, I mean, I don’t know him or anything, just, he sounds like a dick.

That’s okay, I don’t really get along with him that well.

Sean spotted a guy a few seats away, eyeing Tam appreciatively. It bothered him, but he didn’t understand why. He’d only just met this woman, and she seemed nice enough but it really was none of his business. There was just something about this guy that didn’t sit right. He was tall, much taller than Sean, perhaps six three or so. His hair was sandy and he possessed a handsome yet arrogant face, a slight sneer creeping in every time he caught Sean’s eye.

I gotta go for a piss.

Wow. Too much information but go right ahead. Sounds like a plan, actually.

The queue to the men’s room was large, for some reason he had managed to pick the very moment that everyone else in the bar needed to go. There was nothing for it but to wait, so he patiently listened to the rhythmic banging of stall doors, edging closer and closer to his goal. He had never understood the idea of urinals. It seemed uncivilised for some reason, like a row of cattle waiting to be milked. He smirked to himself at the gross picture he had created in his head, trying to avoid eye contact with the other guys as he waited. Finally, he made it to the end of the urinal, the relief streaming from him in waves. It never ceased to amaze him how the sheer magnitude of what came out never seemed to match the meagre amount of liquid he had consumed during the evening.

He found Tam’s barstool empty when he returned, and figuring she was facing the same problems as him, he decided to order another beer for the wait. It was possible, of course, that she had left with someone, that guy from the bar for instance, but no, he was still creepily perched a few seats away, an unsettling smugness in his demeanour. Sean snorted and took a sip of his beer. There was no way Tam would go anywhere with this guy, handsomeness notwithstanding. He was a creep, and Tam seemed to have better taste than that, from what he could ascertain from their brief meeting.

Tam crept up behind him, poking him in the ribs. Boo!

Jesus! You nearly made me piss myself!

Charming. Anyway, haven’t you just been?

Yes. Finally. There were about a hundred people in there. Must be rush hour.

Same. Plus, add to that twenty lots of mascara and fighting for mirror space, I could barely get in to wash my hands! Wow. We’re talking about toilet stuff. This is great.

Yeah, sexy. Too much? Oh well, he’d said it now.

Tam raised an eyebrow and gave him an appraising look. She rested her hand around her glass, edging it to the middle of the coaster. Great, awkward. Just when they were getting along so well.

She tapped the side of her Guinness. I can never finish these things, I guess I just like the taste of them.

No worries.

Sean hastily sculled the remaining quarter pint to alleviate the tension of the moment. It tasted faintly salty, but Guinness was supposed to be salty. Or was that bitter? He could never remember. He signalled the bartender again who was busy chatting to a younger girl with sleek dark hair, seemingly making progress. Sean hadn’t seen this particular barman before this night, but he seemed to have his game plan worked out pretty well.

"Two VBs thanks. Oh, sorry,