Chapter 34

I throw down my jacket and bag on the floor and roll my sleeves up to inspect how much she has abused my rooms. I storm off towards the bar to examine it more closely, gawping and blanching at the rows of cheap booze on the smeared glass shelves—Dusty, dirty, unloved and covered in spillages. I feel sick at the sight of it all.

I waltz to the end, flip up the hatch and walk behind the bar on a mission, rage fuelling me now and ignoring how sick and tired I was when I arrived. I run my finger along the front of the bottles, across surfaces and glassware, and grit my teeth at the black and encrusted dusty finger I pull back. The dust which clings to my skin makes me simmer like a demon from hell.

“Have you seen this? The place is fucking filthy!! What’s with this booze? What the hell are you serving this shit for? It’s cheap and nasty and would be the same as serving your clientele battery a***!” I swipe up a bottle of middle-grade whisky and wave it in the air towards him