Show Queen, page 6
“What are you doing here?” Beth proved Liz’s point with her surly tone. “Is it not enough that you are evicting me? You have to keep throwing it in my face by being here all the time.”
“Beth, I’m sorry that you are hurting so much over this decision.”
Beth shook her head. “You keep saying that. And yet, here you are. Again. You know what, forget it. I’m going to get some lunch.” Beth checked the road for traffic, then marched across to the little sushi shop on the other side. The slight hitch in her elegant stride made Liz curious. Liz followed her across the street, and into the shop before she slid into a chair across the table from Beth.
“Can you leave me alone?”
“Would you grant me five minutes?”
Beth sneered. “Well, it’s half the time you gave me when we first met. Seems fair.”
“I have one idea that might work for both of us. I didn’t want to say anything in case I couldn't pull it off.” She really shouldn’t get Beth’s hopes up about this, but she had to do something to remove the devastation on Beth’s face. Even since Beth had mentioned that she’d dedicated her club to her dead partner, guilt had plagued Liz. Guilt... and Gita’s comment about finding a middle ground that worked for both of them. This confusing mess was why she didn’t mix friendship with her work; except that wasn’t even true as Sreesha rented one of her properties and it wasn’t at all messy.
“Okay? I’m not sure I want to hear it. Your ideas haven’t exactly been helpful so far.” Beth didn’t pull her punches and Liz knew she had to make this work if there was any chance in saving their friendship. Quite why she wanted that so much wasn’t something she wanted to think too hard about, especially not while Beth sat there, glaring at her with those deeply intense brown eyes and gorgeous lips. If she rubbed her eyes, or blinked hard enough, hopefully she’d be less drawn to Beth.
“I’ve put in an offer for the two buildings next door to yours.” It was a huge offer, far more than the properties were worth, and would push her debt profile into uncomfortable territory if—and that was a big if—the owners accepted the offer. She’d already worked out which of her other properties she could sell to keep her debt profile lower, so she’d only have to service the debt for a short time. The market was strong and interest rates were low. All up it was a reasonable gamble to make from a financial point of view, and if it helped resolve her friendship with Beth, then she’d take all the financial risk to make it happen.
Beth shrugged and Liz waited for her to speak, but she said nothing.
“If they accept my offer, I plan to do construction into two phases. I’ll build next door first, so you can stay where you are, and then you can move next door into a purpose built new building before I knock down the one you are in now.” The beauty of this plan was that Liz didn’t have to compromise any part of her plans, and it had the added benefit of helping her friend, maybe even saving their friendship.
Beth just stared at her.
“I don’t want to get your hopes up, but it’s the best solution I can come up with that gets us both what we want.”
“Do I get any say in the plans?”
“First things first, they need to accept my offer, so I don’t think you should stop trying to find a new place to rent, but yes, obviously I want your input because the club will end up occupying the first new building.”
“Okay. That works for me.”
“Really?” Liz’s heart fluttered with hope that she’d saved their friendship, and she almost cringed at herself. Was she the one who didn’t want to get her hopes up here? Why was she so invested in Beth’s well-being?
“Obviously it’s a long shot, but if you can pull it off...” Beth’s voice trailed away and then she grinned, “—then I’d be open to negotiating renting space in your ultra modern ugly concrete monstrosity.”
Liz covered her mouth with her hand, so Beth couldn’t see the huge smile that burst across her face. After a moment, the smile faded and she dropped her hand. “Excellent. And just so you know, it’s not going to be an ugly concrete monstrosity.”
“Glass then. Whatever.”
“I want to create something like the Oasis of Aboukir in Paris and the UTS building in Sydney. Have you seen them?”
“No.”
“They have massive vertical gardens as part of the building structure. I can go to five storeys high under the current zoning, and provided there aren’t archaeological issues, I should be able to put three levels of carparking underneath.”
“Would Seraph’s get access to some of those carparks?”
“Anything is possible.” Liz’s leg started jiggling under the table. This was so exciting. “We can write something into our contract.”
“Good. The location means that people don’t need to drive to attend the club, however, it might be good to have at least one staff carpark, and a few reserved for VIP guests.”
Liz wrote that down as a note in her phone. She didn’t really need to, but it gave her something to do with her hands. “You mentioned in our last meeting that the club is your way of remembering your partner? Would you like to name one of the new buildings in her honour?”
Beth shook her head and Liz held her breath.
“Have I done something wrong?”
“No. Jewel didn’t want me to start Seraph’s. Her excuse was that the risk was too great, and I was too young to be able to properly manage a club like that. She wanted me to stop dancing because... Never mind, that’s no one’s business.”
“It’s okay, you don’t need to share.”
Beth tilted her head slightly. “I refused to give up something I loved. My mother is a dancer too; dancing is my whole life. Eventually Jewel came to understand that if she truly loved me, then she’d support my dancing too. We figured it out, but she thought the financial risk of having my own club was a step too much.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s complicated.”
Liz wanted to rest her hand over Beth’s to show she cared.
“I shouldn’t even be telling you this.”
“Please. We are friends.”
Beth scoffed. “We were friends.”
“I’d like to continue to be your friend. Please help me understand so I can...” She couldn’t finish the sentence without giving away the beginnings of her feelings for Beth. Lustful feelings that were so new and tender that she wasn’t ready to acknowledge them and besides one harsh comment would trample them. She knew from experience that she had to wait until she was sure before saying something, because people who weren’t demisexual tended to charge forward before she was ready.
***
Beth couldn’t believe that Liz would buy the fucking building next door and expand her project just so Seraph’s could stay in the same place. As far as a gesture to save a friendship went, it was utterly compelling and incredible. She didn’t want to trust it. Until today, Liz hadn’t budged on her plan to evict Beth and knock down her building. To be fair, Liz was still going to do that, it was just that she’d expanded the demolition in a way that would benefit Beth too. The idea that Liz would spend more money to allow Beth to keep what she loved was seductive. She had spent half of this conversation biting her tongue, so she didn’t blurt out something rude asking Liz just how much money she had. Asking that was easier than asking why Liz would go to such lengths for ... their friendship.
“You want to understand why I am so determined to keep Seraph’s?”
“Yes. I mean, I get the basics. It’s your business. I wouldn’t want to compromise on my own business either.”
Beth raised her eyebrows deliberately. “I definitely know you wouldn’t.”
“Ha. Can we move on? I’d love to understand more about what you said about Jewel and, well, about what drives you to succeed.”
Beth threw caution to the wind—her heart was still thumping happily at the notion that Liz had found a solution to Seraph’s biggest problem—and besides, talking about Jewel kept her memory alive. They’d had five wonderful years together before the car crash that had killed Jewel. Beth still had lunch with Jewel’s mum, Yen, once a fortnight, more often than she saw her own parents. Yen needed the time together as much as Beth did.
“Jewel was driving that day. We argued about the club idea again. I’d been saving up and this building was for rent at a price I could afford. I had a whole plan and she dismissed it. She didn’t want me to fail, and the odds were that the club would fail. She said I was too young.”
“How old were you?”
“Thirty.”
“What? I thought you were going to say nineteen.” Liz’s eyes widened and Beth had to laugh.
“Well, Jewel was older than me and it wasn’t so much about the number. She said I wasn’t ready to take the heartache that goes with putting everything into a venture and seeing it fail. A club had such a low chance of success. There was always a reason why I shouldn’t do it.”
Liz had a stunned expression on her face. “I hate to speak ill of the dead—”
“Stop.” Beth held up her hand. “No good can come from finishing that sentence. I know I’ve painted her as quite negative about my goals. You need to know this; Jewel loved me. She said she was only protecting me and she was right. Running Seraph’s was a lot tougher than I expected at first. A lot harder.” Beth had barely slept for the first few months. She’d done everything; all the jobs that Charlie and Ben and Steph and Reiko did now. She’d been the MC on stage and the bar keeper and the kitty for the other dancers, and sourced all the dancers and created the shows, and managed a never-ending stream of mediocre kitchen hands and average bar staff. All while learning basic business skills like accounting and tax and payroll...
“There were a lot of skills I had to learn on the go, and I hadn’t been prepared for how much time it would take. Jewel must have known that the club would take all my attention, and I’d have no energy for a relationship. She was wise like that.”
“She sounds like she enjoyed your company.”
“Yes, Jewel cared deeply.”
“I’m sorry for misunderstanding.”
Beth nodded. “Thanks. Anyway, we argued that day. She wasn’t concentrating on the road and ran a red light. A truck ploughed into the car, right into Jewel. She died instantly and my leg was trapped. It took them ages to cut me free, and by then, it was too late. The foot couldn’t be saved, it was too mangled and hadn’t had enough blood flow.”
“Beth. That’s dreadful. You must know it wasn’t your fault,” Liz said.
“It was my fault. If I hadn’t picked an argument with her while she was driving, she wouldn’t have run that red light. Anyway...” Beth paused. “I’m pretty sure it makes me selfish, but when I was released from hospital, I knew I had to start Seraph’s because I couldn’t dance anymore, and it was all I had left. It had been my dream and part of me needed to know if Jewel had been right. If I failed, then I’d always know that her death wasn’t for nothing. I guess, grief is a strange motivator. It didn’t matter anymore to win the argument. A large part of me wanted Seraph’s to fail when I first started; it would be justice served, but in the end, I realised I was kidding myself and I needed to succeed for my own sake.”
“And you needed somewhere to expend all your energy?”
“Yes. I had a small insurance payment after the accident and used it to rent the space and do a basic refit. Eventually I realised that Seraph’s was the risk I had to take to figure out who I was without being able to dance. I like to think that Jewel would be proud of me. She had her doubts and sometimes, especially in those early years, I wanted her to be right, but I’m still here, and Seraph’s is still open. She always smiled when she said I was stubborn.”
“And I threatened everything you worked for.” Liz’s face softened and for a second Beth thought Liz might cry.
“Not just that. You were my friend and you refused to even try and help me. It was a kick to the guts.”
“That makes a lot of sense. I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” Beth hated that it took for her to open up her heart and tell her sob story to get what she wanted, and she didn’t fully trust Liz’s new plans since there was too much resting on whether the neighbour would sell or not.
Chapter 9
Liz would be the worst kind of asshole if she evicted Beth. The crack in Beth’s voice as she’d thanked Liz for her mediocre apology cut through everything; hopefully she could make these plans work. She deliberately ignored the little voice in the back of her head that screamed Petunia’s name. This wasn’t the same at all.
“Does that mean we are friends again?” She covered up the rough emotion in her voice with a cough.
“Shit, Liz. We aren’t bloody teenagers. Life is a little more complicated than that.” Beth’s laugh made Liz’s skin feel tighter.
“I’ve never been in this situation before. It’s a bit confusing.”
“Welcome to the club. I didn’t appreciate being made aware that my new landlady was my online friend.”
“If I’d known, I wouldn’t have bought the building.”
“I don’t believe that.”
Liz gasped at Beth’s assertion.
“And more than that, I think you are glad it was you that bought my building, because you...”
As much as she didn’t want to admit it... “You are right. I would hate for you to have to deal with another landlady. I want to look after my friend. I’m sorry about the power difference that this places between us. I truly am. I’m torn between it being a natural part of life and not wanting it to affect our friendship.”
“It’s a little late for that.” Beth shook her head. “The friendship is already affected. To be honest, it’s not even about the building. Once an online friendship moves into real life, it changes, no matter the reason. Online, we had a friendship that revolved around the plant parents. Both of us only told selected parts of our life. Now we’ve seen each other, you know I have a prosthetic leg, I know you are a bit older than me and much, much wealthier.”
“You make my money sound like an insult.”
“No. It’s just reality. Seraph’s makes enough money to keep it going and to pay me a living wage. It’s never going to create the type of income I’d need to buy my own building.”
“But...”
Beth held up her hand. “Trust me. When the building was first listed for sale, I did the sums. It was out of reach and that’s okay. Of course I’d love to be my own landlady, but not if I can’t afford it. I’m not going to spend my life struggling to pay a huge sum to a bank when I can pay an affordable sum to a landlady.”
“I could help you put together a plan if you want.”
“A plan for what?”
“Maybe owning the building for Seraph’s is out of reach, but you could probably afford a small apartment for yourself. I assume you live alone.” Liz wanted to help and even as she spoke, she recognised the same desire that had caused so much trouble with Petunia. She held her breath, waiting to see what Beth would say, and knowing that if she was too keen, Liz would have to call it a red flag and walk away. But Beth shrugged casually.
“You see what I mean about being online friends and then meeting in real life. Being social online can really help when in tough times, but it’s always going to have a sense of disconnection because of the selective way of communication on there.”
“What do you mean?” Liz asked. She didn’t think she’d held herself back in their DM chats.
“From all the things we’ve chatted about online, I assumed you were single, but I didn’t know for sure.”
Liz raised her eyebrows, prickling at the suggestion she had lied to Beth. “People lie about that in real life too. Catfishing isn’t just an online phenomenon.”
“No. The old ‘she told me she was separated/getting a divorce/just working out somewhere to live’ problem.”
“People are greedy.”
Beth cackled. “Says the fucking property investor. Yes, people are greedy.”
“Is that how you see me?” Liz blinked against the heat behind her eyes. What the hell? Obviously Beth didn’t believe anything Liz had said in their online chats.
“Mmm, yes and no. Obviously I’ve seen how you can change your stance when given new information, but I don’t necessarily like that I feel I had to tell you an emotional sob story to get you to see my point of view.”
“Oh.” Liz blinked rapidly. “Are you always this insightful?”
“Nah. I save that for you.” Beth winked. Liz gulped. She really needed to change the subject to something less intense, otherwise she might just crawl over the table and kiss Beth.
What?
She never had the urge to do that for anyone, and certainly not so early in a friendship. Her heart beat so loudly that surely everyone in this tiny sushi shop could hear it.
“You’re right, you know,” she cleared her throat. “Um, about online interactions and assumptions. When I first met you in the Plant Parent group, I thought you must be a school teacher, or in HR, or some other type of job that meant you had to be good at keeping people’s emotions in check.”
“A teacher.” Beth looked delighted by that assessment of herself. She giggled and the sound vibrated in Liz’s chest, a direct jolt of energy into her heart. “I’d be a terrible teacher. We’d just listen to music all day and dance around the room.”
“I can imagine that.” Liz smiled. “Come on, what did you think of me?”
“Of you, or what job did I assume you did?”
“The latter, please.”
“The latter? How fucking posh is that!”
“Hush.” Liz’s face heated.
“To be honest, I never thought about what job you might do outside the group. When you joined, it was in the rush of people who’d been thrown into pandemic lockdowns and wanted to bring outside indoors to help them cope.”
Liz nodded. “Yes, that was my reasoning too. I am a keen rambler and like to spend my weekends walking some of the many paths around the country.”
