Ian got it. Marco wanted Jama back. He looked pretty hopeless, day in and day out. Hanging out at the pub, off in the corner.
Usually, they'd have a tiff. Maybe that was what made the makeup stuff so good. Ian might never know. He went about his business and tweaked the recipes they had on hand. Ever so often he got it right. Not all the time, but it was getting better. After all, the old cook upped and left and Ian was suddenly the chef. But he kept going. He didn't have anything better to do.
Of course, there was the Marco and Jama show to watch.
"What is the deal?" Ian felt like it might be the million dollar question. They were closing for the night and he decided he wanted to know.
"We are not together." Jama was adamant about it.
"Oh." He wanted to believe her, but she seemed weird with Marco.
"He keeps trying, but he doesn't want to be a part of this." She sounded disgusted with Marco. "He has a good job now. He doesn't need me."
"But he's here, all the time." Ian reminded her. "Are you, sure he's working?"
"He claims he can work anywhere. He just wants me to work for him." She shrugged as if that was the end of the story.
"And?" Ian winced, wondering why that was a problem.
"I have to be here for my Dad. This is the family business." She told him she might not deserve it, but she was trying to make the best of it. Her dad was ill. She owed him.
He understood as he almost opened the locked door. "Marco's waiting for you."
"Shit." Jama held under her breath.
She looped her arm around his. She gritted a smile.
"Can I come home with you?" She asked as if that was the easiest solution.
"Well." He guess it would be OK. He wasn't sure he was in to deceiving anyone.