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“Okay, more to the left—no, my left, not yours! Jesus Christ!”

I suppressed a laugh with difficulty as the guest yelled at Harry, who was re-positioning the entertainment unit. If only he knew just who he was yelling at. I didn’t think Harry was used to getting cussed out by fat old men who had no idea of his fame.

Now, he was straining with the massive shelving unit, his eyes narrowed in concentration, a sheen of sweat visible on his forehead, his biceps visibly contracting beneath his shirt sleeves.

When the guest was satisfied, I heaved the LCD TV back onto its shelf, positioning it as he instructed me.

“I hope you’re not waiting on a tip,” the old man grumbled from his position on the couch. 

Harry rested his hand on my hip and, with slight pressure on his hand, led me to the doorway. I was surprised at his touch but said nothing, following his lead. “Of course we wouldn’t want to inconvenience you, sir. It’s been a real pleasure serving you.” I could hear the sarcasm in his voice, but I wasn’t sure the man could.  “If you need anything else, make sure you ask for Andy and Samantha!” He bowed his head and ushered me out the door.

“He’s going to be pissed when he calls again and asks for two people who don’t exist!” I said with a giggle as we clattered down the stairs, heading back to the office.

“Yeah, well, it’ll make him put a bit of effort into something when he does,” Harry said, grinning. He’d let go of my hip, leaving me with a strange sensation that felt like longing. I ignored the feeling, though, remembering the angry Harry, or the moody Harry I’d seen two days ago. I wondered vaguely where that person had gone; he seemed to have vanished completely in favor of this friendly, hyper, fun-loving teenage boy.

Mr. Brokaw looked up when we entered, his expression disapproving. He didn’t like us having a good time, I supposed. “Good, you’re back. Harold, the ferry’s arriving in thirty minutes, so come with me to help her dock. Avery, go see Mrs. Dindorf in Sea Pine Sway. Something about a knitting needle and she’s half-blind. Then come back here and manage the till.”

I left Harry with Brokaw and headed out the main road to Number 10. Much as I hated the guests on this island, I did like helping with the ferry when it docked. It was pleasant to see certain guests leaving for good, and I never lost hope that the newer guests would be better than them. They never were, though.

I didn’t begrudge Harry having to make awkward small talk with Brokaw. However Harry was probably used to dealing with unpleasant people, whereas I could hardly contain my disdain. He was much better at dealing with Brokaw than I was.

An old woman greeted me at the door of Number 8, wearing spectacles as thick as tumbler bases. She explained that she’d lost her knitting needle and wanted help finding it, from “young eyes.” She puttered about the house, one of the largest on the island, mumbling to herself and pointing out places that she either couldn’t reach, or the lights were too poor for her to see, which basically meant there weren’t spotlights on them. I found the needle wedged between the seat cushions on the couch after about twenty minutes of following her around the house. She thanked me dearly, pressing a quarter into my hand as I left. How generous.

I could see the ferry pulling in as I made my way back across the island. Seeing it always filled me with wistfulness. Were that I were on board… the last time it had come in, dolphins were leaping about the bow until it slowed to dock. I’d freaked out and pointed them out to Brokaw, who was thoroughly nonplussed. I had watched longingly as the dolphins had swum away, every part of me wanting to be with them.

The shop was empty, as usual, when I walked in. I unlocked the register and stood behind it, ready for the new guests to arrive. After they docked they had to check in, and Brokaw liked me to play his receptionist. Twenty minutes later, he hurried into the shop, looking very red in the face. I was wondering why he was so flushed when it wasn’t even that hot out yet, when he took me by the arm, steering me into the office. 

Some Place To Hide. [ Harry Styles ]Where stories live. Discover now