Look into the Eye

by Jennifer Barrett

  Oh God, I’m so out of practice with all this, I thought.

  “Cheeky beggar!” Orla watched him walk away before turning back to me. “It was so brilliant to get your call, Mel – we never see you anymore. If it wasn’t for the odd email or text message over the years, we’d have thought you were dead – or worse, married! What have you been up to?”

  I started to fill the girls in on my new house and some of the things going on in work. They listened attentively – or so I thought – until I’d almost brought them up to date. “So we’re in the final stages of recruiting for a new sponsorship manager to take over my old job that’s been vacant since I was promoted. It hasn’t been easy – there’s not so many good people to choose from –”

  Niamh held up her hand, interrupting me mid-flow: “Stop! Stop right there. I can’t listen to any more of this.” She glanced over at Orla, who just looked down into her glass. Niamh turned back to me. “Mel, it’s Friday night, forget about all that – how’s the love life, girl? Any men on the scene? Please tell me you’re not still with whatshisname?”

  “Who? Ian? God no, we split up almost four years ago now,” I said, staring down the straw into my drink.

  “And good riddance,” said Orla. “I never did like that guy. I mean, he was charm personified in the beginning – he wouldn’t give up until you went out with him. But he was so boring underneath it all, and he hated you coming out with us. Not that we saw you much after you two got together. In fact, first it was the man, then it was the MBA, wasn’t it?” She laughed. “We’ve been ditched more than once by you, Mel.”

  “Yes, we have,” said Niamh. “But hey, we’re not proud – we’re always happy to welcome back the prodigal. Once you’re not planning a return to the tennis courts, that is.” She laughed.

  I smiled. “No, I’ve no plans to go back to tennis at the moment. And I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch in so long, ladies, but I’m back now, and I’m ready to party!”

  “Good for you, Mel,” said Orla. “We’ll have to find three nice, eligible men to help us have fun. I haven’t been near a man in weeks!”

  “Weeks?” I smiled. “Try years!”

  Niamh looked shocked. “Sounds like we definitely need to get out there tonight so, girls!”

  “To be honest, I’m not really all that interested in men at the moment,” I said. “I’ve enough complications in life right now – between all the hassle at work, family commitments and the new house. I just want a fun night out with you girls tonight – keepin’ it simple.”

  “Pfff!” Niamh said. “We’ll see about that, eh, Orla?”

  “Absolutely!” said Orla. “The night is young, and the unsuspecting men of Dublin await. After all, Mel, what better way to get your mojo back than by chatting up a few nice fellas?”

  “Oh yes. Come on, Mel, it’ll be fun,” said Niamh. ”Just like the old days.”

  “No way – I’m completely out of practice. Any of the flings I’ve had over the last few years have been disastrous. I don’t think I’d even know how to chat anyone up any more.”

  “Ah, sure, all you have to do is show you’re interested in a guy – hold his gaze a little longer than normal, and smile a lot.” Orla did the actions as she spoke. “Then when you have his attention just approach him and ask him something about himself. Act like everything he says is interesting, and that you agree with him about all things.”

  I frowned. “Hmm . . . I think I’m beginning to see where I’m going wrong.”

  Orla and Niamh laughed as I began to wonder what I’d let myself in for.

  I enjoyed catching up with the girls and hearing about their recent holiday to Thailand over dinner at a nearby Italian restaurant. Orla had invited me along on a few of their trips over recent years, but I was always too busy with work, studying, helping my folks with their dog kennels business in Greystones, or going along to one of numerous family events. With three sisters, two brothers, one brother-in-law, one sister-in-law, my little sister’s on-off boyfriend, and at last count, eight nieces and nephews – soon to be nine when my sister-in-law had her second baby, there was nearly always a McQuaid family birthday, christening or other family event to attend.

  By the time we got to the late-night bar after dinner, it was heaving. There was a long queue of people waiting to get in, and the usual crowd of smokers and socialites milled about out front. I went to stand at the end of the queue, but Niamh just gave me a look of disdain, and marched on past me, followed by Orla who beckoned to me to follow. I scurried along behind them. The girls took off their jackets, held their heads high and walked straight up to the door.

  “Evening, ladies,” said the bouncer as he undid the rope across the entrance. “You’re looking well tonight.” He looked us up and down as we passed by. “Have a good night.”

  “How did you manage that?” I asked Orla.

  Niamh gave Orla a knowing smile.

  “Regulars never have to queue,” Orla said to me.

  “Usual spot?” Niamh asked Orla once inside.

  “Absolutely,” said Orla.

  I could only just about hear them over the throbbing sound of eighties music that was reverberating through the Greek and Roman themed bar. It was all fake gold statues and tall marble pillars – everything was overstated and large.

  We followed Niamh who strode off in the direction of the bar, pushing her way confidently through the hordes of Friday-night revellers. I noticed several men check the girls out as we passed and a couple of them tried to strike up a conversation, but Orla and Niamh just said a word or two in reply to each and walked on.

  We got to the end of the bar and stopped by a tall pillar, watched over by a large gold statue of a naked Adonis.

  “Jackets, ladies?” said Orla, holding her hand out.

  I duly handed her my black cotton jacket, and Niamh passed on her red trench coat. Orla stuffed them between Adonis’s legs. “Look after them, babe,” she said, patting his golden bottom, before turning back to us. “All right, girls, what’s it to be?”

  She went off to the bar, while Niamh and I kept Adonis company. I felt a little naked myself in my black strappy summer dress. It was the first time I’d taken my jacket off all night, and my dress was a little more revealing than I was used to. I pulled up the bodice a bit, then stood holding my arms tightly around my chest.

  “Will you relax, Mel? You’ll put the men off,” Niamh laughed.

  “Sorry, sorry,” I said, putting my arms down and trying to loosen up a bit.

  I watched as an Italian guy came over to chat to Niamh. I stood on the outskirts of the conversation as they chatted and flirted effortlessly. I wasn’t even in the game.

  Thankfully Orla arrived back with our drinks before too long. She poured my tonic mixer into my gin and handed it to me: “All right, Mel, get that into you. Then your mission for this evening is to get out there and get chatting someone up!”

  “Oh no – I couldn’t, Orla.” All I wanted to do was to curl up and hide between Adonis’s legs under the coats.

  “Shall I show you how it’s done?” Niamh draped herself all over the Italian guy who grinned inanely back at her.

  “No, thank you!” I couldn’t bear to let Niamh beat me at everything. She might have been Club Champion, but that didn’t mean she could beat me at this game.

  I took a deep breath.

  “Oh, all right then, I’ll do it.”

  “Go, Mel!” said Orla.

  I smiled and stood up straighter. After all, if Niamh Delaney could do it, so could I. I’d chatted men up before – I used to do it all the time.

  I flicked my hair over my shoulders and looked around for a target to better Niamh’s skinny Italian. I spotted an interesting-looking guy standing near the bar. He was tall and broad, dressed all in black, with dark stubble on his chin that made him look quite rugged and very sexy.

  Perfect.

  “Right, here goes nothing.” I took a deep breath. “See that guy ove
r there? The one dressed all in black? Prepare to lose to the better woman, Miss Delaney.”

  “Huh?” said Niamh.

  “Good luck!” Orla called after me.

  “Ciao, bella,” said the skinny Italian.

  I started to walk over to the bar and was just thinking of something interesting and flirtatious to say, when someone bumped into me from behind. The collision caused me to spill most of my gin and tonic down the front of my dress.

  “Mel?”

  I turned around, and there, with faded black eye and dishevelled hair, stood Richie Blake. The last time I’d seen him was two weeks earlier as he was being carried off in an ambulance.

  “Fancy meeting you here? You look great.” He grinned at me. “Sorry for bumping into you there.” He noticed my dress then. “Crap, did I make you spill your drink?” He proceeded to dab my front dry with his shirt sleeve.

  “It’s all right, Richie, don’t worry.” I pushed his hand away just in time to see the sexy stranger grab his drink and move along the bar.

  I sighed. “Probably just as well.”

  “What’s that?” asked Richie.

  “Oh, nothing.” I looked back at the girls.

  Niamh was laughing, Orla just looked disappointed.

  I glanced back at Richie. The girls didn’t know I’d met him a couple of weeks earlier . . . Maybe I could make it look to them as though I was chatting him up? I just couldn’t let Niamh think she’d won this round. I’d never hear the end of it.

  I flashed Richie a wide smile. “So how have you been keeping, Mister Blake?”

  “Ah, I’ve had a rough couple of weeks, Miss McQuaid, as you can imagine,” he said, rubbing the back of his head.

  And indeed he did look rough. He wasn’t quite drunk yet, but it was pretty clear that he was well on his way.

  We moved up to the bar and he took a long swig of his pint before plonking the near-empty glass down on the counter beside me.

  I leaned in to look closer at his eye. “Looks quite sore still?” I did feel a little sorry for him – he’d taken a nasty blow that day.

  He nodded, squinting to accentuate his pain and I momentarily forgot about my plan.

  “I’m sorry about what happened to you, Richie, but, if you don’t mind my saying, it sounded like you deserved it.”

  “What?” He looked hurt for a second, then he just nodded his head slowly in resignation. “Ah, maybe you’re right, Mel. I’m sorry you had to see all that. Not my finest hour.” He gave me a weak smile. “But hey, guess what? The good news is – I’m single now. No more wedding planning to avoid, no fiancées or in-laws to keep happy.”

  I glanced over at the girls – they were still looking over with interest.

  Oh well, if he’s single . . . It can’t hurt to flirt a little.

  I smiled at him. “That’s great, Richie – that was what you wanted all along, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah, I suppose it was – to some degree anyway,” he said, picking up his pint from the counter and finishing it off in one gulp.

  “Would you like another drink?” I smiled up at him through my eyelashes and leaned both elbows back against the bar, pushing my chest out.

  Richie looked me up and down slowly, seeming confused. “Eh . . . no, it’s all right,” he said eventually. “I’ll get them in. What’s it to be?”

  I sighed. “Forget about the drink, Richie.” I stood back up straight. “I need to ask you a favour. See those two girls over there?” I rolled my eyes discreetly in Orla and Niamh’s direction. “I need to convince them I’m back in the game. Y’know? I need to look like I’m chatting you up here. All interested in you like.”

  He laughed. “Ah sure, we both know you’re interested in me, Mel.” He patted his chest with his hand. “Come on, admit it, you can’t get enough of the ol’ Blakester.”

  “Mmm,” I said, taking a step back.

  He looked a bit more serious. “Wait a minute – you’re not joking, are you? You actually were trying to pick me up to impress your friends?”

  I felt like a bit of an idiot then. “No, not pick you up exactly . . . just chat you up a bit.”

  But the more I spoke, the more stupid and embarrassing the whole thing sounded.

  “Oh just forget about it, Richie – stupid idea.” I turned around to look for an escape route.

  “No, no, no,” he said, taking my arm to turn me back. “Let’s not forget about it actually. The thing is – I don’t mind being used and abused so that you can appear to be whoever it is your friends want you to be. To be honest, it’s probably about what I deserve right now.” He looked straight at me. “I just wonder, Mel . . . why is it you’re always trying to be something you’re not?”

  “What?” I stared at him. “What are you talking about?”

  “When we met at that lunch a few weeks ago, you started off all stiff and on edge, then you went to great lengths to prove to me you were something else altogether. Don’t get me wrong,” he laughed, “I enjoy rolling down a hill after a beautiful woman just as much as the next guy – but now, here you are, trying to prove to that pair over there that you’re looking for love.” He leaned in closer to me. “When we both know that’s the last thing you want.”

  I couldn’t believe the nerve of him. “You can talk. You’re the one who gets engaged, then cheats on your fiancée so you don’t have to go through with it.”

  Richie glared at me. “That’s not what happened. I didn’t become engaged until after I’d been with Sonya.”

  “Oh, well that’s all right then!” I glared back at him. “You try to come across as all charming – Mister Nice Guy – when really you’re just like all the rest of them.”

  So it was a pretty nasty thing to say, but the more I got to know Richie Blake, the more I was coming to realise that he was one of those guys you were just meant to stay well away from.

  He stared at me for a few seconds, then looked down. “You’re probably right.” He seemed almost beaten and I felt bad then. “Maybe I’m just a bit of a shit who can’t hold down a relationship to save my life. But at least I know who I am. I’m under no illusion at the moment.” He straightened up and looked at me. “Who is it you are exactly, Mel? Are you the driven career woman with the five-year plan? Or are you the cool chick who rolls down hills and hangs out with whales? Or . . . are you this phony night-clubber who picks up random blokes in bars on Friday nights?” He took a step closer to me. “Or, Miss McQuaid, are you something else entirely? Tell me – I’d love to know, because quite frankly I’m confused here.”

  I was furious. Who the hell did this guy think he was? He didn’t know me – what right had he to talk to me like that?

  “Maybe I’m all of those things?” I said, sticking out my chin. “And more besides.”

  “Is that so?”

  I tried to stay calm, not rise to it.

  “Who are you really, Mel? What do you want from life?”

  I thought about it for a second. “Honestly?”

  He nodded.

  “Right now, all I want is a bloody cigarette!”

  He looked surprised. Then he smiled a bit, took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and offered it to me.

  I took a cigarette. “How come you have these? I thought the cigars were a one-off last time?”

  “I smoke on and off – and I’m leaning on all my bad habits at the moment.” He handed me a box of matches. “Keep ’em.”

  I put the cigarette and the matches in my pocket, then stood up straighter. “Thanks for the cigarette, Richie. You’ve actually been very helpful.”

  “Glad to be of service. See ya around then.” He turned to get the barman’s attention.

  I looked at his back for a second then swung around and walked back over to Niamh and Orla. The skinny Italian was wrapped around Niamh and Orla was talking to what looked like his taller, broader friend.

  I grabbed my jacket from the pile between Adonis’s legs.

  “Are you leavi
ng with that guy already?” asked Orla, glancing over at Richie. “Go, Mel! He’s a fox – and he’s not going to let you get away – he’s staring over.” She nudged Niamh, who peeled her eyes away from the Italian to look. “Maybe our Mel is not so rusty after all, eh, Niamh?”

  I glanced over my shoulder at Richie, and as I did he turned back to the bar.

  I looked at the girls. “Thanks for a great night, ladies, but, Niamh, you remain the champion.”

  Niamh looked confused. I didn’t bother to elaborate.

  I walked the long way around the bar to avoid passing Richie again, and was very thankful to finally get out into the night air.

  I took the cigarette and box of matches out of my pocket, lit up, and took a few drags. It was nice at first – very, very nice in fact. But then the smoke caught in my throat. I started to cough, and went on coughing until tears fell from my eyes.

  “You all right there, love?” the bouncer asked.

  I nodded as I wiped the tears away. “I’m fine, thanks,” I managed to say eventually. Then I went over and stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray by the door.

  At least that was one good thing to come from my relationship with Ian – those things were pure evil.

  I sighed, then walked to the side of the road to hail a taxi.

  As I travelled home, Richie’s words kept going around and around in my head: “Who are you really, Mel? What do you want from life?”

  The guy had such a nerve.

  I sighed. But to be fair to him, they probably were good questions. Who was I? And what did I want?

  I sighed again as I stared out the taxi window.

  The truth was – I honestly didn’t know any more.

  Chapter 5

  RICHARD

  I turned my head on the pillow and immediately regretted it. Not only was my head killing me, but Barbara – or was it Brenda? – well, whoever – the intern I’d brought home after the pub – was snoring loudly on the bed beside me.

  Shite!

  What a difference a few months can make: I’d started drinking the morning after the fight with Ed, and for the next six months I stopped only occasionally to work and to sleep. It was about the only way I could live with the guilt of screwing over just about everyone I gave a shit about.