Kissing Frogs

by Tori Turnbull

  We spent the next forty minutes devising Adam’s game plan for getting Lizzy, the hottest girl in North London, who worked part-time on reception in the spa Adam took his gran to, to go out with him, eating cake and drinking coffee to fuel us. I was glad I hadn’t ditched him when I realised he was just a kid. From what he’d let slip, his father had walked out when he was three and his mum had problems with addiction, so he lived with his gran. He was awkward, lost, and desperate for some sort of guidance. I may not be a dating guru, but I’d learnt a fair bit over the last few weeks and I was happy to share that with him.

  My phone alarm alerted me that I only had ten minutes until my next date, bringing things to an end.

  “I have to go, Adam.” I rose in a flurry of movement and started gathering my bag and coat. Adam stood with me, holding my coat whilst I put it on, practicing being a gentleman for his potential date with Lizzy. “Thanks. See you around, kid.” I gave him a sisterly hug and we both moved away from our table.

  “Kate.” His hand briefly touched my arm and I turned back to him. He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows. “Screw me if I’m wrong, but you want to kiss me, don’t you?”

  I laughed. Now that I knew where he was coming from, he was actually funny in a geeky way. In fact, his lanky awkwardness reminded me a little of Mark when he was a teenager. He was going to be a real knockout when he filled out, grew into his looks, and gained confidence. “That reminds me. Limit the number of cheesy chat-up lines, two maximum, per date. Here.” I pulled the speed-dating questions out of my coat pocket. I had a picture of them on my phone if I needed something to fall back on. “If you get stuck for something to say, try some of these.”

  He took the paper off me and glanced at it, then smiled. “Thanks, Kate.”

  “Last thing, Adam: keep your hands to yourself until you’ve been on a couple of dates, and even then, ask and be respectful, don’t just grope her. If I hear otherwise, I will hunt you down.”

  He laughed. “So how about that kiss?”

  I laughed. “I like your spunk, kid. You’re cute and funny. Girls like that.”

  “So, you’ll give me a little lips-on demonstration?” he asked, ever-hopeful.

  “Nope. Ask her out. If she’s worth your elaborate plan to catch an older lady to get experience, she’ll be happy to learn with you, or even teach you, and that’ll be far more memorable and special then a quick kiss or shag with some cougar you met through the newspaper who reminds you of your gran.”

  “Yeah.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched and head bent, then looked at me through his floppy hair. “It wasn’t bad for a first date, was it?”

  I smiled. “No, it wasn’t.” Actually, it was probably the best first date I’d ever had. “Good luck. Don’t forget to text me and let me know how it goes.”

  “Maybe, when you find a guy, we could, like, double-date or something?” he called after me as I set off along the road to my next date venue. My heart squeezed. “Then you could meet Lizzy.”

  “Sure thing, Adam. Looking forward to it.” I’d be there, even if I had to get Mark to fake-date me.

  * * * * *

  Divorced Dad was twenty-five minutes late. He obviously didn’t realise I was working to a schedule. I was contemplating calling Mark and asking if he wanted to keep me company until pre-dinner drinks and my next date. I’d just dug my phone out from my bag when a fuss at the door heralded his arrival.

  His advert said he was thirty-five years old. He looked very slender and worn, with tired brown eyes and thin, wispy brown-grey hair. Either he was having a tough life or he’d lied in his advert and was closer to fifty-five than thirty-five.

  He held the door open, and two Mini-Mes – child-sized replicas of him – pushed into the restaurant, all three of them wearing matching baggy blue jeans, striped t-shirts, and navy parker jackets with fur-trimmed hoods, their hair curling wildly around their curious faces.

  “Hi.” I stood up from the table, smiling in welcome and giving a kiddy-friendly finger wave.

  Unfortunately, Divorced Dad wasn’t my physical type, so there was no spark. That said, I do like fathers who stick around and raise their kids, so I was willing to give him a chance; wasn’t there some saying about the best relationships growing from friendships?

  “Sorry we’re a little late, Kate.” A little? A little was five minutes. This was just late, or really late. He piled discarded coats, rucksacks, and various other paraphernalia onto the bench seat beside the window. “Teddy had a bit of a tantrum on the way out and broke his Nintendo DS. Luckily, there’s an Argos near Victoria Station, so we popped in to pick up a new one before heading over. He’s promised to behave now, haven’t you, Teddy?”

  A much younger, cuter, but sulky-faced version of Daddy – what was his name again? I racked my brain and settled on Daddy Desperate – glanced up from the box he was ripping apart to get to the toy inside. “Who’s she?”

  “I’ve told you already, Teddy.” He used that do-not-embarrass-me tone parents developed at the birth of their first child. “This is Daddy’s special friend.”

  Oh, shit. Special friend? My heart skipped on a beat of pure panic. I was too young to be someone’s daddy’s “special friend”. “We’re all going to have lunch together. It’ll be fun!” He sounded desperate. I felt it. He added firmly, “Now be polite.”

  “Do we have to call her Aunty Kate like that other woman you made us to go the park with?”

  “Just Kate will do,” I cut in to defuse Daddy Desperate’s embarrassment. “What should I call you?”

  “The blond is Teddy. He’s eight. And this one…” He ruffled the hair of the freckly redhead pushing past me to get to the table, who scowled and jerked his head from under his hand. “This is Rupert. He’s ten.” I wondered if their surname was Bear. “I can see you like children.” He looked harassed and relieved at this discovery.

  “Yes, but I couldn’t eat a whole one…” I paused for effect. “Not without ketchup.” So, it was lame. It was the best I could do off the cuff, and he looked like he needed someone to take pity on him.

  A giggle burst from Teddy, as I made a sudden move towards him as if to gobble him up. Rupert glared, clearly unimpressed. Teddy, catching his older brother’s scorn, stopped laughing, hid behind his menu and said in an undertone, but loud enough for me (and half the restaurant) to hear, “She looks like she could eat a whole one.”

  “She looks like she already did,” his brother responded without looking up from the Nintendo DS box he’d snatched.

  “Boys!” Daddy Desperate sounded shocked. He flushed with embarrassment and ran a tired hand through his thinning hair. “I’m sorry. You know what boys are like.”

  Not really.

  If I knew what boys were like, I wouldn’t be twenty-nine years old and single.

  “I think they must really like you. It’s a schoolyard crush thing to tease girls they like. They’ll be pulling your hair next.”

  They might try. I couldn’t promise they’d make it out with all limbs attached if they did. A waitress approached the table and quickly took our orders before melting away.

  “It’s piiiiiiink.” Teddy’s tone could have set dogs to howling. He dropped his new DS on the table with a clatter, scowling and poking at it with a finger.

  “Yes, well, it was the only colour they had left in stock, and if you hadn’t broken your other one, you’d still have a black one–”

  “Teddy’s a pinky poof. Teddy’s a pinky poof,” Rupert sang in his high-pitched preadolescent voice.

  “Daaaaad! Rupert’s picking on me.”

  “Stop it, both of you, or Kate will start to think you’re a pair of spoilt brats.”

  “But–”

  “I’ll take you home without lunch.” Teddy looked down at the table, pouting and muttering. “And we can return that pink DS on the way home. If you don’t like the colour, you don’t have to have one at all.” Rupert gave a smug smile and tried to kick Teddy u
nder the table, missing and booting me instead.

  I kicked back (it was instinctive) and hit Daddy Desperate by mistake. “Ow! Rupert! That’s enough! Behave. You’re too old to be to teasing your little brother and kicking under the table.” I focused on unfolding my napkin and tried to blank out what was happening around me. No way was I owning up that it was me. “If you keep it up, I’ll swap your blue one for Teddy’s pink one and we’ll see how you like being a ‘pinky poof’.” He took a deep breath as both boys glared at him. We were saved by the arrival of our food. “Now eat your scampi and chips whilst Daddy talks to his friend.”

  Chapter 17

  Are you a magician? Because whenever I look at you, everyone else disappears.

  “And that was it. Don’t play with it, Teddy. Eat it or leave it.” Daddy Desperate slipped from talking to me to telling off the boys and back again without pause.

  I was just grateful for the break in hearing about his ex-wife.

  It didn’t last long. “Amelia said she couldn’t handle just being a mummy anymore. That it was sucking the life out of her and she needed to go and ‘find herself’. Then she just upped and left us…”

  His phone rang the irritating frog ringtone that had been all the rage a decade or so ago. “Sorry. Sorry, I need to get this. It’s the boys’ nanny. I hope she isn’t going to bail on me. She’s the third nanny this year. I can’t afford to take any more time off work.” Panic flared as I watched him disappear outside with a battered old pre-Android Nokia phone clamped to his ear, leaving me alone with Satan’s spawn.

  I craned my neck, keeping him in sight through the window.

  I didn’t trust him not to make a run for it and leave me with the tiny terrors. He stopped within sight of the restaurant and I relaxed. Although it was an experience I hoped never to repeat, lunch had passed fairly peacefully. It was a little awkward that Daddy Desperate and I clearly had absolutely nothing in common, but he hadn’t touched anything he shouldn’t have, or cried or been rude. In fact, if he was ten years younger (or looked twenty years younger) and didn’t have the kids…

  No.

  No. I shouldn’t lie to myself. Even if he was all those things, I still wouldn’t be interested. I wondered what Mark was doing. Maybe I could give him a call and he could come and help me fill time between dates. He’d be able to see the funny side. Mark could always see the funny side of my life.

  The more time I spent with him, the more I could see the funny side, too. He knew what to say to make me laugh at myself.

  “Daddy’s looking for a new mummy to care of us. Because ours doesn’t want to anymore.” The childish voice cut through my musings. My heart froze, then clenched. Even though they were horrors, only a stone-cold bitch could fail to be moved by the fact their own mother had abandoned them.

  “But Mummy was prettier than you.”

  “And skinnier,” the younger Bear added.

  My sympathy vanished. Poor Daddy Desperate. No wonder he was looking for someone to share the hell of raising Satan’s spawn with.

  “Hey! That’s my cookie.”

  I shoved the whole chocolate biscuit into my mouth and smiled around it. “Fat woman’s prerogative.”

  “What’s prerogative?”

  I continued to chew, and said though a shower of crumbs, “It means that if you’re rude and nasty to me, I get to eat your cookies.”

  “Hi! Hurry up and get your stuff together, boys.” Daddy Desperate was breathless and sounded stressed.

  “She ate my cookie.”

  “She must’ve been hungry,” he said as he was gathering the boy’s belongings and shoving them at them without care.

  “That’s not mine.”

  “Then give it to Rupert. Rupert, help your brother put his jacket on.”

  Teddy’s sleeve knocked a glass off the table. It fell to the floor and shattered.

  Daddy Desperate didn’t even seem to notice. “I’m sorry to run out on you like this, Kate, but the boys’ nanny is packing as we speak. I’ve got to get home before she leaves.”

  “I understand–”

  “I don’t think you do. We can’t cope without her.” He grabbed children’s debris from the table and hurried out, shepherding the boys to the door.

  I watched them race out and heaved a big sigh of relief, not even caring that he hadn’t left any money for the bill. Neither of us bothered to pretend we’d ever see each other again. Daddy Desperate was too distracted, and I thought he had enough problems in his life without me lying to him. He was quite nice, poor guy, but he didn’t need a date. He needed Super Nanny.

  I added a hefty tip to the bill to make up for the fact the table and surrounding area looked like a bomb had hit and headed to Karma Cafe for coffee and sexy waiters. I’d learnt something new about myself over lunch: I wasn’t ready for a readymade family. Luckily, I’d never have to see the tiny terrors again. Poor Daddy Desperate had to raise them until they turned eighteen… or they killed him in his sleep.

  * * * * *

  I called Mark. “Hey, it’s me.” I had an hour to kill and didn’t want to look friendless. Besides, I needed to tell someone about my first couple of dates, and I’d yet to admit to any of my friends that I’d stooped to lonely hearts ads. He would enjoy hearing about my disastrous dates, and I could use the confidence boost and laugh that he’d no doubt give me before this afternoon’s date.

  “Hey, it’s me.” See? I was already smiling. “How’s it going? You must be, what… One and a half dates down your schedule by now. Are you hiding in the toilets to talk to me? Do you need rescuing?”

  I laughed. “I’m between dates two and three.” I heard the whoosh and creak of him dropping down onto the sofa and, a second later, a muffled thud. “Get your feet off my coffee table.”

  “Damn it! How did you know?”

  “I could feel your smug I’m-getting-away-with-something-Kate-wouldn’t-allow-if-she-was-at-home-ness even over the phone.”

  “How about if I take my shoes off?”

  “No.”

  “Fine.” He sounded sulky, so I knew he’d done what I asked. “You going to tell me how it’s going?”

  “Yeah, I was just ringing to fill in time before my next date–”

  “Nice to know I’m good for something. Even if it is just filling time.” A petulant grumble.

  “You’re not bad at DIY, either.” I was smiling like an idiot. I pushed my empty coffee cup to the edge of the table, nodded when the waiter signalled to ask if I wanted another one, and pulled my compact and travel makeup kit from my bag. After tugging my hair loose, I ran my brush through it, using my fingers to fluff it a little, lift the layers, and give it more body.

  “So, how did it go? How was your tactile professional?”

  “Aptly named. It turns out he was a toucher.”

  Heavy silence rolled over the line. “What do you mean, he was a toucher? He touched you where, exactly?”

  I sipped my fresh coffee, then swiped on a little eye shadow. “Just about everywhere he could reach.”

  “I’m going to kill him.”

  I laughed. “It’s okay, Mark. I’m okay.”

  “It’s not okay, KT. Did you take a picture of him on your mobile? We’ve still got his voice mail number. I can arrange a date for him he’ll never forget.”

  I was going to have to reapply my mascara if I kept laughing like this. “There’s no need for you to get pissed and violent. He was only a kid, nineteen.”

  “Nineteen is not a kid. That’s a fully functioning adult male.” He didn’t sound appeased. “Hang on, didn’t the ad say he was in his thirties?”

  “It said a lot of things. He reminded me a bit of you when you were younger.” He grunted, still not happy. “Fine. It’s a long story, but he lied because he was looking for an older woman to teach him the ways of dating, and I quote, ‘stuff’, so he didn’t make a fool of himself when he asked the girl he fancies – Lizzy – out.”

  “Ah he was look
ing for his Mrs Robinson to take him in hand,” Mark said like it was a rite of passage.

  “Is that a thing?”

  “Totally. Most boys fantasise about an older woman teaching them the secrets of the bedroom. I hope you told him where he could go, the cheeky asshat.”

  I laughed. “Kind of. If my next date doesn’t pan out and the plan Adam and I devised to get his Lizzy does, you and I are going to go on a double date with them.”

  “You asking me out, KT?”

  I laughed at his mock-interested tone. Time flew by. I finished primping and gossiping, then had to hurry to bring the call to an end and settle my bill when I realised I was in danger of running late to my final date of the day.

  * * * * *

  Mark would be bragging on this for weeks – easy-going professional male, his choice of date for me, could just as easily be called Mr Perfect.

  He’d arrived early (before me, anyway), greeted me with a smile and a handshake (a firm, brief clasp-then-release of my hand, before I had time to panic and tug it free), and he had been charming me ever since.

  “What can I get you to drink, Kate?”

  “I’ll have a glass of Chardonnay. Thanks, Chris.” I was still avoiding Merlot.

  “How about we make it a bottle? It’ll save us having to get up and come back to the bar.”

  That was a positive sign: he was already planning for us to have more than one drink. “You sound like my kind of man,” I joked. Mark would never let me forget that he’d picked my best date. He was going to be unbearable. Maybe I could lie to him.

  We walked across the narrow bar to the seating area, towards a vacant table for two, with red-upholstered captain’s chairs next to the empty fireplace. “So,” he said as we settled at a table with our drinks. “What’s a great-looking, intelligent woman like you doing answering adverts in a lonely-hearts column?”

  “Giving a great-looking, intelligent man like you who’s advertising in them a chance?” It was better than admitting I’d been blackmailed into it.