Читать книгу Sweatpants at Tiffanie’s: The funniest and most feel-good romantic comedy of 2018! - Pernille Hughes - Страница 12

Tiff wasn’t certain how she got from Leonards’ to Viv’s Cafe but somehow, when the daze cleared, she found herself sat with a latte and a blueberry muffin at the well-worn Formica table. She must have simply pointed dumbly at any cake, as she didn’t particularly like muffins. Not since Gavin had once pointed out her own muffin top.

Blackie had left her the club. Bloody hell. No matter how many times she asked Leonards to verify it, to show her where it said so on the page, she still couldn’t understand it. The death stares Bernice Black sent her however, supported his insistence this was really happening.

‘You had no idea?’ Leonards had asked when they were alone.

‘Not a clue. He never said.’ Tiff knew she sounded spaced, but really. A business. A boxing club. Not in her wildest dreams. Perhaps – and this was awful – perhaps not in her dreams at all…

‘Well, he liked surprises, did Blackie,’ Leonards had nodded, filing the will. ‘But he liked his gym more, and he wouldn’t hand it over to anyone he didn’t trust or think capable.’ Then he’d handed her the keys and pointed to her files. ‘I believe the accounts are all up to date and in perfect order.’ That had tickled him immensely.

The caffeine started doing its job. Yes, she’d teased Blackie about dragging the club into this century, but as he’d pointed out, his was one of the few remaining boxing gyms turning a good profit and it was what he knew how to do.

‘What’s the point?’ he’d asked. ‘It’d be like starting again. I’m a boxing coach; I teach people to duck, dive and punch. I don’t know my arse from my elbow when it comes to rowing machines and I don’t hold with those conveyor belt things. If you want a good walk, get out in the fresh air.’ Blackie had still been able to ride a bike, leading a swarm of running boxers around the town twice a week. ‘Why sit on a machine in a room when you can use the outdoors for free? Bloody stupid if you ask me.’

‘You’ll be sorry when some swanky fitness centre sets up nearby and all your clients scarper when their girlfriends suggest a partner membership.’ She’d really only said it to wind him up.

She could see his point; the club had a decent financial turnover, the clients were loyal and brought their kids along to join, so why at his age would he change it? But she’d always assumed he’d sell it, at which point it’d either be modernised or demolished by developers. She’d never in a million years thought he’d leave it to her. He might have mentioned it, she thought, it would have come as less of a shock.

Her first instinct was to call Gavin. To ask him what she should do. However, Monday mornings were the weekly planning meeting and she knew better than to interrupt it. Besides, she didn’t know if he’d welcome a call from her at all. She tried thinking What Would Gavin Do?, but came up blank. Her mind didn’t work in the same way his did, she supposed despondently. She’d need to fathom this out by herself. Every day brought a new way to miss him.

Tiff laid a steadying hand on the pile of accounts files next to her. Her numbers. Her accounts now. Pulling them together hadn’t taken Tiff as long as she’d dreaded. However, catching up this last week’s-worth of subs had kept her at the desk during the weekend instead of flat hunting. She’d ended up staying on the ancient sofa for the last two nights too, having yielded to the nag of spring-cleaning the office before the handover. She hoped the Premier Lodge would have space for her that night, or else she’d have to bite the bullet and face Shelby’s futon.

‘I blooming thought it was you!’ The boom snapped her out of her ruminating. ‘Sitting here like some lady of leisure. Haven’t you got work to do? Adding or something?’ Tiff didn’t need to look up.

‘Sit down Shelby and help me sort something out.’ Shelby sat with a wince and a groan. ‘What’s the matter with you?’

‘RSI,’ Shelby grumbled, getting comfortable.

‘Repetitive Strain Injury? From waxing and plucking?’

‘Repetitive Sex Injury. From dating and f—’

‘Stop. I do not need to know,’ Tiff cut in. There were things Shelby had told her over the years that made her want to bleach her ears. ‘Back to the helping me, please.’

‘Seriously Tiff, what’s to sort out? He ditched you, he’s a tool, you’re better off without him but you can’t see it yet. Yada yada yada. Can’t we skip to the bit two months from now when you acknowledge I’m right and you’ve wasted weeks pining over someone who wasn’t worth it? Do a sky-dive, a bungee jump, get so wasted you wake up in the gutter with your knickers flapping off a lamppost. Whatever. Embrace your new life however you want, but can we just fast-track to it?’

‘Have you considered counselling as a career, Shelbs? Your compassion and empathy is truly a gift,’ Tiff said, pushing the muffin over to Shelby, who was eyeing it with intent. Unleashed, she made short shrift of it and Tiff made the most of her mouth being occupied. ‘Actually, that’s not what I need help with. Blackie left me the club.’

The next few moments were spent sorting Shelby out as she first pebble-dashed Tiff with muffin crumbs in the initial exclamation of ‘No. Fucking. Way’ and then gasped the remainder back into her throat and started choking when Tiff neatly added ‘and all his money.’

Tiff waited patiently while Shelby composed herself, brushing the last crumbs off her uniform. It was quite a novelty seeing Shelby stunned for once. Lord knew that didn’t happen often.

‘Bloody hell,’ she finally managed.

‘I know, right?’

‘OMG, that’s like, amaaazing. You are so bloody doing this, Tiff. You’re going to rock that place.’ Shelby’s enthusiasm was instant. Her confidence in her friend was absolute and it made Tiff feel touched but also self-conscious.

‘I think Blackie just didn’t want his bloodsucking ex to get it.’

‘Stop it. He knew you could sort it out. He knew you have good ideas for it. And maybe, he thought it’d be the kick you needed.’

Tiff’s mouth pulled up to the side. Given Blackie trusted her with the figures and the admin, would it be so unreasonable to believe he trusted her to adopt his life’s work and develop it?

‘But I was just spouting off about the things he should change. I wasn’t saying I was the one to do it. I’ve got zero experience in that sort of thing.’

‘Stop over-thinking this, Tiff. You set up your own business before and you didn’t have experience of that either. You know all this, you just don’t dare flatter yourself. You’re convinced life’ll bite you in the bum if you big yourself up.’

Was that what she did? She knew how it felt to take things for granted, to think she was the bee’s knees, only to have it slapped back in her face. It wasn’t something she particularly wanted to experience again. Pride comes before a fall, Tiff – The Bible.

‘You can do this Tiff.’ Shelby put her hand on Tiff’s arm. ‘You’ll kick butt. Blackie thought so too.’

‘But he gave it to me like it was my dream. And it really isn’t.’ Tiff had to whisper as she felt so ungrateful. Shelby sat back, considering this.

‘It’s a business, Tiff. Might be a different flavour than you’re used to, but it’s still a business. You get the chance to make something bigger and hopefully better. You can further yourself as a business woman.’

‘But I don’t have ambitions like that,’ she said exasperated. She liked her life as it was – well, not right now, but before. She didn’t have the confidence for all this. ‘I—’

‘Stop. Stop right there. I know what you’re about to do. You’re about to allow Gav the Tool’s words to cockblock your big break. And the answer is no, sorry, no dice. You’re going to do this, if nothing else to prove how wrong he was, how after ten years he still couldn’t read you properly. And, so help me Tiff, if, when you are riding high as a proper Lord Sugar, you so much as think of going back to him when he comes sniffing – and I guarantee you he will – I shall break your legs.’ Shelby drained the last of the latte before adding, ‘His too. But that’ll be just for kicks.’

She looked at her watch.

‘Crap. Gotta go.’ She was out of the seat before Tiff could even think. ‘You can do this. Love you babes,’ she said, planting a kiss on Tiff’s head, and was promptly gone. If Tiff hadn’t already been in a daze, then Hurricane Shelby would have done the job.

Shelby’s words rang in her ears as she walked back towards Blackie’s. For all her best mate’s encouragement – which was heartening even if she still had Gavin all wrong –Tiff didn’t know if she had what it would take, because it would take a lot, and right now she hardly had the energy to shower. When she got to the club car park she stopped and took a long hard look at the place. She owned all this. A building and a business. If she wanted it. It could be a future too. If she wanted it. But looking up at the sign above the front door, she didn’t know whether she could fulfil Blackie’s faith in her. Hadn’t Gavin said she wasn’t a striver? And didn’t he know her better than anyone?

But. But but but. The words kept bouncing on her lips. Like Leonards said, Blackie wouldn’t have given his club away to just anyone. She knew that. He believed she could do something with this place. ‘Capable’ Leonards had said. She liked being seen as capable. Shelby thought so too. She’d like to remind Gavin that she was capable – not only in his interior design needs. Heading for the doors she wondered whether this was the universe sending her a way to show Gavin he was wrong. About all of it.

She felt a splat on the shoulder of her coat. Bird poo.

That settled it. She had it on very good authority being crapped on by a bird was lucky. Given how the last week had gone, she’d take any good omen she could get.

Smiling, Tiff ran her hand lightly across the door pane. ‘Mine,’ she mouthed.

‘Y’know, this place will turn to shit.’ The low snarl made her jump. She hadn’t heard his approach. Spinning around she found herself almost nose to nose with Aaron. He had little perception of personal space, no more than he had for his personal hygiene. Tiff instinctively took a step backwards, but was met by the door. Aaron didn’t budge. Ah, it wasn’t that he didn’t care about personal space; he wanted to intimidate her.

‘Blokes won’t join a boxing club run by a woman. A woman who doesn’t box.’ He was repulsive, from his sneer to the gopping nails of his nicotine-stained fingers. Tiff reminded herself she had Blackie’s backing. It didn’t quite cloak the fact he was bigger and wider.

‘You think they’d be more attracted by a bloke who doesn’t box? At least they’ve seen me in the building. They know Blackie liked me.’

Aaron’s eyes narrowed. ‘Yeah, obviously liked you a whole lot to leave you everything. That how he pegged out, was it? You riding him for the inheritance?’

‘Don’t be disgusting!’ Tiff exclaimed. ‘Your stepdad was a lovely man. He knew my grandad.’

Aaron merely shrugged. ‘Age doesn’t bother gold-diggers, does it?’ Tiff resisted suggesting he asked his mother. He moved a step closer, so his mouth was right up against her ear. ‘The older the better, right? Then you don’t have to keep it up so long.’ He sniggered snidely. ‘Bet Blackie couldn’t even do that.’

Appalled, Tiff turned and scooted through the door, keen to get it closed between them. Was that what people would think? She tried to quell the nausea.

‘That business should be mine. I was his son,’ Aaron shouted right against the door pane. Spittle splattered on the glass.

‘Stepson and a rubbish one at that,’ Tiff muttered. She didn’t have a plan if he chose to storm the building, but instead he walked slowly backwards, staring at her. ‘You should have been kinder to him while he was around then,’ she said louder, so he’d hear.

‘Like you did?’ he sneered, giving her a filthy leer before turning and swaggering away. Tiff watched him cross the car park like he owned the place. He didn’t look back. He’d come to rattle her, and he’d done the job.