by Ruby Reade
'Hey Lucy, it's been a while, how is it going?' Jamie asks.
'Yep, all good cheers, just you know, living life.' Just living life? Buck your ideas up, moron. I berate myself. 'I didn't know you knew Pete?' I say trying to redeem myself.
'Oh, I don't exactly, Marty met him at football training.' He says and smiles down at me, my stomach is alive in a good way. I grin back.
'Come on Jay, let's go and find Pete.' Marty says stealing his attention away. I don't know what his problem is with me, but every time Jamie shows even the minuscule bit of attention my way he seems to freak out and dive in like a possessive bunny boiler.
The hole that is left when they leave the kitchen is instantly filled by Laura bounding in and hopping up onto the kitchen side effortlessly.
'So, Drew has just turned up.' She warns me with a grin and I know she has come to sit with me not in support but for a front row seat in the disaster movie that is masquerading as my life.
'Oh great, there goes my fun night. I bet he will try to interfere with me getting it on with Jamie now.' I say folding my arms and shaking my head at my luck.
'Considering the fact that there is a strange little man glued to his side, I suspect that any chance of you doing anything with Jamie is miniscule anyway. I don't know what your problem is? Drew is fit, he likes you, you're not with Kev and the door to opportunity is wide open. I don't see why you two can't just get together and make all of the fall outs caused because of it worthwhile.' I don't know why she has gone all pro-Drew all of a sudden. 'He does really like you Luce, maybe, that is why you're against the whole idea.' She theorises and jumps off the kitchen side to grab a bottle of wine as she makes her exit.
I am left to brood staring at the bubbles fizzing in my glass, when another voice interrupts.
'I thought the general rule of house parties is that the kitchen is always the place to be, you know where the fun is.' I look up and shrug at Drew not bothering to try and think up any type of response, let alone a witty one.
'We could always make some fun of our own?' He suggests leaning in close to my ear and falling into the kitchen side with a thump.
It is all well and good dealing with drunk, lecherous men at the end of a good night out, but it isn't even late, I am stone cold sober and not in the mood.
I make a move to leave, causing him to jump back into the doorway, a hand on each side and blocking my escape.
'Drew.' I warn.
'What's wrong with me then? First Leah cheats, and not just once might I add. Next you come onto me, before deciding that actually no I am not actually worth it after all.' He almost shouts at me.
'It's not that.' I say, when really, he has a point, I didn't think he was worth it, he was just a way to get back at Kev. I drop my head and don't know what else there is to say when the truth is out there already and we both know it.
'So what brilliant excuse have you got then? Hmmm?' Bright red spots glow on his cheeks, a tell-tale sign of him being drunk or angry, in this situation it could be both.
'I just get bored I guess.' I blurt out trying to fill a gap.
'What do you mean you get bored?' He demands, the red patches glow ever brighter.
'I don't know just I get bored.' I say again not that it helped the first time.
'Bored? You are trying to tell me that you got bored of me after just one night?' Well, when you say it like that it doesn't sound great.
'So, what you are really saying is that a guy who cheats on you is impulsive, and one that is horrible to you is exciting?' He screams working himself up into a tantrum and banging around the kitchen. Jen walks in, stops mouth open and quickly turns and retreats whilst he is in mid-flow.
Laura appears in the doorway just as he finishes slamming another cupboard for effect and I smile at her to let her know it is all under control. Jen must have told her about the scene going on in here.
'Drew, now look, you asked.'
'You women. It’s all about you and what you want isn't it? ISN'T IT?' Maybe under control wasn't the best description of the situation in hand after all.
'But Drew.'
'And do you know what the best part is? Of course you don't. Why am I even wasting my time asking you?' If he gave me a chance to answer I would be able to tell him exactly what the bloody best part is, but he won't shut up. 'You don't even know WHAT you want. If you don't know then how the hell are we supposed to figure it out? HMMMM?' I think he has flipped his lid, gone cuckoo, is away with the fairies and left a lunatic in his place.
'Are you okay Drew?' Laura asks trying to interrupt his rant thankfully.
'Me? Oh yeah I'm fine, I'm always fine, aren't I?' She stares at him trying to smile, so I give her a smile to let her know its ok. I add in a quick wink, this can’t go on much longer surely.
'What are you grinning at?' He turns on me again.
'Nothing. I was just smiling for Christ's sake get a fucking grip because you're acting like a knob.'
'Me? I'm acting like a knob?' He looks about waving his arms around. 'Fine that's fine, it's all my fault as per fucking usual.' He shrieks like a girl before stomping straight out of the front door and only stopping in the garden to shout at all the neighbours 'I AM A GIGANTIC KNOOOOOOOOOOOB!' As loudly as possible before turning left and walking quietly down the road.
'Okay, so that was slightly out of the ordinary. Drink anyone?' I ask everyone who are now lined up in the hallway staring alternately between me and the open-door mouths in classic shock pose.
'Drinks?' I ask again.
'What the bloody hell was that about? I think we need a shot after witnessing that.' Laura announces. I couldn't agree more.
First Kevin was crossed off the list, then Drew was permanently erased from the list and hopefully my memory, now Jamie is a write off, so it looks like the only likely candidate is Nigel. I mean he is attractive in a slimy sort of way and he clearly likes me which is the massive plus point in his favour. It is always better to date someone who actually likes you rather than either puts up with you or seems to actively hate you.
I am going to have another shot and a very large prosecco. Then I will message him to let him know the wonderful news.
Chapter 29
Lucy
Looking at Nigel sound asleep when the sun is coming up and the start of a hangover is beginning to take hold changes my opinion of him. I stare at him and lean in a bit closer. I didn't realise how old he really looks until now. The unforgiving light is enhancing his worst features, I lean in a bit closer looking at his hair line which is also receding. I can see the faint stain of hair dye on his scalp. Suddenly I am blasted with death breath. The final nail in the coffin.
Still, I haven't exactly got them lining up at the door. Maybe I shouldn't be so quick to down him. I lay back on the pillow and try to get comfortable again. He takes the cover and rolls over dragging it off me and farting in the process. Holding my nose, I remind myself that everyone farts. Even the Queen.
He is probably used to having the bed all to himself.
I gently try to pull a corner of the cover over to my side, he jolts awake. Quickly I close my eyes and fake sleep whilst trying to look attractive.
'Erghhheeemmm.' He coughs loudly and elbows me in the arm sending a shooting pain down to my fingers because he has caught a nerve. I slowly open my eyes and smile, full acting skills utilised.
'Morning,' I say in my sexiest voice. I put the back of my hand up to cover my mouth and hopefully hide my own stale breath.
'Erm, yes. Morning. Look, I think you should go. I've just, you know, got a lot on today.' He tells me jumping out of bed as if someone had chucked petrol and a lit match onto it. He grabs his clothes and literally throws them on.
'Oh, sure. Of course. I have to get ready for work anyway.' I reply and dive into my own clothes at a matching speed.
'Exactly.' He says holding out a hand, gives me a smile and takes what sounds like his first normal breath. He looks relieved.
&n
bsp; 'So, I guess I will see you at work in a little while then? People might have thought it weird if we both walk in together.' I say letting him know I don't want to mix work and pleasure, we can keep it separate, it will be a bit more thrilling anyway keeping it secret from everyone else.
'Ri-ight. It is so great that you understand how it is, you're not like other girls. It would have been awful having to try and explain why not to say anything at work.' He says nodding and smiling but not looking at me. Obviously, he is not a morning person. Something to remember in the future.
'Of course not.' I say in a voice two octaves higher than usual. See I am a bight happy easy going girl who people love to be around. I stand waiting at the door for a full minute watching his back while he rummages through a drawer.
My smile is hurting my cheeks now, and I move onto my other foot. What is he doing?
Another minute goes by so move my bag and bang it on the doorframe to remind him I am still there.
'Oh, I thought you had gone sorry.' He says without looking around or stopping what he is doing. 'See you at work then.' I get dismissed.
Turning around on my heel I march off. He is going to have to sort out the moody morning behaviour if he wants to go out with me.
Walking down the road my head starts to pound away in time with each step I take. Even if I speed up or slow down, the pain matches my pace. Step, thump. Step, thump, step, thump. It’s nauseating.
I force myself to stop worrying about Nigel's change in mood this morning because it is taking every ounce of effort to make my way home.
On the plus side, if he turns into a knob like most other men then at least this time he is barely ever at work unlike my last work/love related drama. I nod to myself and nearly throw up in agony.
Pausing to take a breath and steady myself, I run down a list of positives in my head:
He is older so less likely to be immature.
I rarely see him at work.
Even if he changes his mind then he is adult enough to carry on as before.
He has been besotted with me for ages, so it should all work out anyway.
After my quick pep talk, I finish my journey home to shower and change before I leave for work.
***
I push the door open to Tiffanies mid-yawn. Midnight aerobics, sleep deprivation and too much alcohol have caught up with me. Miranda is serving a queue of customers that almost reaches the door, every table is used, and the noise is deafening. It takes every scrap of willpower not to turn around and run home.
'Oh Lucy. You're here. Thank God. Nigel turned up let me in and then disappeared again the bloody prick.' She doesn't stop serving the listening customers or turn her voice down, instead she slams cups and plates about to punctuate every word and injustice. 'Do you believe he just told me to get on with it and left? I mean can you imagine his reaction if I did the same thing? It’s not on. Not on at all.'
'What do you mean he left?' He obviously feels as rough as I do and the luck of being the boss is you can just go home on a whim no questions asked, well apart from Miranda obviously, not that her opinion matters.
'He said something about picking up his fiancée from the airport, would you like sugar in that? As if anyone would want to marry that arrogant prick, you did want the iced cake, right?' She drops the bombshell without a care in the world and in the middle of still serving the agog customers.
'A fiancée? I choke out.
'Oh yeah, unbelievable right? I still think he is lying, either that or he has brought her from Thailand. Oh, and I wouldn't worry about your little episode from the other day babe.' She consoles me and waves goodbye to an old bloke who squeezes past me to get out the door.
'Fag. I need a fag.' I say and rush back out the door.
'Hey! Lucy? Wait a mi...' Miranda's voice is muted as the door shuts behind me.
Okay, I need to pull myself together. I can't believe that arsehole. Well going by my record with pigs then I guess I can. He wasn't just being moody today. He was trying to get rid of me before she comes back. I hate to sound repetitive, but I hate men. I really, hate men.
I flick my fag into the road and force myself back into the coffee shop. The queue has vanished, and Miranda is at the end of the counter hunched over and reading what I guess is her stars or problem pages.
'Sorry about that, I wouldn't have said anything, but you told me you was'nt interested in him, so I didn't even give it a second thought.' She apologises frowning at me.
'I'm not interested, I was just a bit shocked that is all, as you said who would want to marry him anyway? You have to feel sorry for her, the fiancée I mean.' I shrug it off and make a start clearing the dirty tables. Pleased to be doing something with my hands.
I let the steady barrage of early morning coffee hunters take my attention and help me to get through the day.
It all starts to ease just after 2pm and the irritation starts to creep in again.
I can't help reliving Nigel acting all weird this morning and my new knowledge puts a different slant on it and the whole thing seems so different now compared to my earlier interpretation.
Enough is enough.
I quickly get packed up and hand my keys over to Miranda, I must get out of here
I take a deep breath and do the only thing a girl during a man induced crisis can and hit the shops hard. Time for a new look. A head to toe revamp. Each bag I get helps me to breathe a little easier and smile just a touch more.
After an hour and a half, I feel more relaxed than I have in ages, I am smiling again, and all thoughts of men have vanished while my shopping addiction is at full throttle. I must remember not to think about how much I have spent and keep focusing on how great I will look and the investment in my mental health is much more important than a couple of maxed out credit cards.
The only thing left now is hair. I swing around nearly taking out a group of teenagers with all my bags. I march back up the Highstreet to see if they can fit me in for an emergency appointment.
Finally sitting on the hot seat, I have a million ideas racing through my mind, but the only problem is the girl in the mirror doesn’t look like the one in my mind’s eye. The sharp reality keeps slapping me in the face each time I open my eyes.
Bailey, the stylist behind me who is lifting sections of my hair like long ears before dropping them again is frowning at my head and keeps making clicking noises with her mouth. She looks deep in thought, but I reckon she is just stalling because she has no idea what, if anything can be done with my hair to make me look even slightly better.
'Hmmmm' She picks up the comb and drags it through my hair so that there is a dead centre parting and the top section is plastered to my head whilst the bottom section has turned into candy floss frizz that looks like it has never seen conditioner before. In short, I look like a demented poodle. Honestly, I have done all that shopping and picked up my confidence and mood all to have it dashed away by being forced to stare at myself in the mirror with no Snapchat filters and bright lighting. It is cruel.
Obviously, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to work it out and I have should have expected it, but I am continuously surprised by my repetitive bad luck. At this precise moment Mr Vain, Kevin himself happens to walk past me.
He stops in his tracks and takes a second exaggerated look before cracking a massive grin and whipping out his phone. I struggle with the gown and try to cover my face with my hands, but I end up looking like a kid at Halloween dressed as a ghost. Fabulous.
'Blackmail material.' He mouths through the glass pointing at his phone and laughing. Bloody fabulous.
He won't be laughing the next time he sees me, and I am looking fantastic with my new hair and look he will wish he had never laughed at me then.
Forty-five minutes later I remerge from the salon feeling refreshed and like a new woman. My head feels surprising light now I have had so much hair cut off. I swish my choppy bob and feel my new side fringe flop over my eyes before it miraculou
sly retains its shape and goes back to where it had been styled. Now I know I will never be able to recreate this look, so I have to make the most of my sleek and tamed hair until I am let loose on it and have to try and make it look the same again at home on my own.
I see Jen's car waiting for me on the double yellows. She looks up and doesn't move or blink for a split second before I can see her screaming inside the car with a big grin. She gives me the thumbs up and I feel even better, confidence almost fully restored.
I yank open the boot and chuck my bags in. 'Your hair is amazing!' She shouts through the boot. I run around and open the passenger door before jumping in.
'Why thank you baby girl.' I say fluffing it up 'So what pub are we off to? The usual?' I can't wait to get out and show off my new look to everyone.
'Ah, I hope it's ok, but I invited Pete? You don't mind, do you?' She pulls a face at me.
'Of course, I don't mind.' I am put out, but you don't say that to a pregnant woman, it’s not like it is a proper girly night out anyway, that will have to wait until the baby is here. I smile at her and she smiles back.
'He is flapping about because I said I am ill and on antibiotics, I think he knows something is up and won't leave me side. I literally have to lock the toilet door, or I swear he would be in there sat on the edge of the bath.'
'At least he cares about you.' I remind her. It must be lovely to have a man care that much.
We pull up outside Pete's house and notice Kevin's car immediately.
'Please tell me that he isn't coming tonight?' I ask. His laughing face from earlier dances around inside my head.
They both start walking towards us. I try to get in the backseat without having to get out and be forced to speak to Kev, but I get stuck on the gear stick and end up falling face first into the back.
'Pete wouldn't be that daft to invite him.' She tries to reassure me, but she doesn't sound like she believes herself, so I don't hold out much hope.