He’d taken a job of sorts a couple of months before, up at the hotel near the roundabout, staff accommodation to boot. It was an ugly, rundown building just off the exit to the motorway, a one-night stop-off for people on their way to somewhere else. Everyone around the town looked down on them that worked there, worse than they used to on me and Danny. I knew a few of them, knew they were the type that were good for Ste’s business.
The accommodation was at the very back of the hotel, the side closest to the traffic. Two squat breezeblock structures, adjacent to one another like the outbuildings of a prison. Ste said I could stay there for a few nights, even though I owed him a shit-ton of money by then. It was the last place I wanted to be, hated the feel of his hardness pressing into the small of my back night after night. But it’s not like I had a right lot of choice.
The hotel manager was a lad called Scouse Gary. He was mates with Jody, been down the pub a couple of times before Chrissy left. Gary thought he was something special, thought he’d really made it, managing that seedy hotel, mincing around in shirts so thin you could see the outline of his nipples, fluoro ties done right up to his Adam’s apple, rubbing against the greasy little mound whenever he spoke.
Ste told me that if I put on a short skirt and went to see Gary, I’d be bound to walk out of there with a job and so I did as he suggested, tottering through the main entrance in a pair of Chrissy’s old shoes and too much makeup weighing down my face. The girl at reception smirked at me when I asked to see the manager, then picked up the phone and turned away to murmur something into the receiver, giggling before hanging up.
Scouse Gary appeared a couple of minutes later, gave me a look like the sight of me made him bored and hungry all at the same time. He told me to come to his office and made me walk in front of him, didn’t bother to look at my face as he sat down at his desk, started tapping at his computer as though he’d forgotten I was there.
What can I do you for? he said at last, his eyes still on the screen. I didn’t answer straight away. I was waiting for him to face me, trying to pull some of the power back. Eventually he turned his head in my direction. I flashed him the kind of smile that Chrissy would have been proud of.
I’m after a job.
Oh yeah? What kinda job?
Well, I said, leaning forward slightly, I can pull a decent pint.
He ran the tip of his tongue along his teeth before asking me how old I was. I told him I was eighteen. It was only a half lie; my birthday was just a few months away. It didn’t matter anyway—there were no vacancies in the bar. None in the restaurant, either.
There’s housekeepin, though, he said, a smirk creeping across his face. If you don’t mind scrubbin bogs.
I don’t. But I need a place to stop.
He sat back, his eyes on my chest. I thought you were Ste’s bird?
I looked at him squarely. No. I’m not.
I was in luck, if that’s what you want to call it. A lad who’d been staying in the block next to Ste’s had done a runner a few nights back, got himself into a bit of a fix with someone apparently. The rent was cheap, Gary would take it out of my wages every month before he paid me, but if there was any trouble I’d be out on my ear, he bleated, reeling off a list of house rules as we crossed the car park. I nodded along, barely listening. Gary drummed on the door three times before a bloke with acne scars all over his face opened it, looked me up and down with a leer.
Who’s this then?
Gary answered for me. This, he said, is your new housemate.
The building was identical to Ste’s, except my room was on the ground floor, right at the end of a narrow hallway and next to the shared bathroom. I pushed the door open with my toe, taking in the cracked bath panel, the toilet with no seat, an empty bog-roll hook hanging half off the wall. When’s the last time that got cleaned? I asked quietly.
Gary grinned. You can see to that now.
There were four bedrooms in total, plus the bathroom and a kitchen. The rooms were rented out to the foreign employees mostly. Eastern Europeans, Irish, the odd French or Spanish bloke. No one stuck it out for long. Still, there were always people around, mingling between the two buildings, hunched over the tables in the filthy kitchens, loitering outside the grotty little bathrooms.
I didn’t want any part of it, barely came out of my room at the start. I ignored the attempts at chat from the other housekeeping girls until they stopped bothering with me, whispering when I walked past them in their little gaggles having their cig breaks round the back.
Scouse Gary cornered me in a room on the top floor within the first week of me working there, doubled over on my knees, scrubbing the base of the bath. I heard the door click, thought it was maybe the girl I’d been on shift with, coming back to help me. She’d gone out for a cig two or three rooms ago and I hadn’t seen her since. I stood up straight away, ready to have it out with her, tell her it wasn’t on, buggering off to leave me to do all the graft on my own. But then I saw that it was Gary, leaning against the doorframe, fingering a keychain that hung from his pocket.
Workin hard?
He was watching me in the mirror, his eyes on my reflection but never on my face. It made my stomach twist, the way he couldn’t make eye contact. Even when you were talking right at him, he’d find somewhere else to look, some other little spot to busy his attentions with. Yeah, I answered. I need to get past, though.
He moved his body to the side but stayed within the narrow doorframe, leaving enough space for me to squeeze through, but not enough that I wouldn’t have to smear myself up against the length of him. I rolled my eyes and turned to the sink instead. He took a step closer to me, clearing the doorway, and I walked past into the bedroom, Gary following close behind.
Were there summat you needed?
He was standing no more than a foot away from me, his eyes resting on my stomach. Just wanted to check you were settlin in.
I’m fine, I said, giving him a tight smile. Thanks.
He nodded, then gestured to the window behind me, overlooking the staff accommodation. How’s it down there then?
S’all right.
The lads not givin you any bother?
Nowt I can’t handle.
Gary smirked again. Bet you’ve handled a fair bit in your time.
I didn’t reply, ripping open the poppers of the thin polyester duvet cover, gutting the insides into a pile on the bed.
You gonna tell me how come you don’t wanna stop with Ste then? He was watching me still, the fabric around the long bones of his fingers sheening in the pocket of his cheap suit.
He’s just a mate.
Oh yeah? You gorra fella then, do yer?
I picked up the clean sheet, unfolding it carefully on the bed. Yeah.
Gary made a noise like a laugh, high-pitched and nasal, closing the gap between us with another step, his breath hot against my neck.
Were there anythin else? I asked, my body stiff, my eyes staring straight ahead at the wall on the other side of the room. For a moment he was quiet, and then he took a step back. I sidestepped him quickly, moved to the other end of the bed.
He sniffed, drawing his whole nose up into the action. You wanna get a move on. There’s still a whole floor to get through here.