The Never Have I Ever Club

by Mary Jayne Baker

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because… because I need you to. I need you to, okay?’

  ‘Will—’

  ‘Bye, Robyn. And good luck with your aunty, I hope you can talk her round.’

  He bent forward as if he was going to kiss her cheek, the way he always did when saying hello or goodbye, but then he obviously thought better of it and, with a curt nod, he left.

  ‘Oh, nice one, Rob,’ she muttered as the front door slammed closed. ‘What the fuck have you gone and done?’

  *

  When Will arrived home, Ash practically jumped him from the stairs.

  ‘Well?’ he demanded.

  ‘Jesus, Ash,’ Will said, patting his heart.

  ‘Come on, what’s going on? Why is Rob upset? What have you two been doing in there for the past three hours?’

  ‘Eating pizza. Watching Overboard.’ Will pushed Ash aside so he could get into the living room.

  ‘Overboard? What for?’

  ‘Because Robyn thought it might make her feel better,’ he said, sitting down. ‘She was a bit distraught.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I… can’t tell you. It’s kind of private.’

  Ash frowned at him. ‘What, so private you can’t tell your own brother?’

  ‘It’s not just you I can’t tell, it’s everyone. This is a work thing. Sorry, I should’ve said confidential rather than private.’

  Ash looked worried. ‘Will, what is it?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Will summoned a smile. ‘I mean, nothing for you to worry about.’

  ‘It’s Rob, isn’t it? What’s wrong with her? Will she be okay? Is it the same thing as before?’

  ‘You know I can’t talk about it.’ He took a look at his brother’s anxious expression and sighed. ‘Robyn’s fine. This is… something different. You’ll find out soon enough.’

  ‘And that’s why she wanted you to go over, because you’re a doctor?’

  ‘Yeah. She needed advice, and there was no one else she could talk to.’

  Ash’s face relaxed into a smile. ‘I should’ve known there was an innocent explanation.’

  ‘What other explanation could there be? You said you trusted me.’

  ‘You know I do,’ Ash said, throwing himself down next to his brother. ‘Still, I can’t help feeling jealous when she wants to spend time alone with you while I’m over here like Billy No-mates, wondering how I can get her to even like me again. It’s hard not to dwell on you being exactly where I want to be.’

  ‘It won’t happen again. I just didn’t like to leave her on her own when she was upset.’

  ‘Was she crying?’ Ash asked quietly.

  ‘Yeah, and drinking too much. Not to mention… she just really wasn’t herself.’ Will sighed. ‘I hope she’ll be okay.’

  ‘Poor Rob. I wish there was something I could do for her.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘I could go over. Do you think I ought to go over?’

  ‘Christ, no. You need to wait for the right moment before you try talking to her again. Trust me, that moment is not now.’

  Actually if Ash did go next door, Will couldn’t help thinking that all his brother’s dreams might suddenly come true. Robyn had obviously felt the need to be with someone tonight when she’d kissed him. He’d been the nearest convenient body, that was all. But while that might solve Ash’s problems in the short term, Will knew that in the long term, sleeping with Robyn tonight, while she was drunk and upset, would be a very, very bad idea indeed. In the morning she’d hate herself, and probably hate Ash even more than she did right now for letting her go through with it. He knew there was no point mentioning any of that to Ash though, who’d be out of the door faster than you could say ‘get lucky’ if Will told him Robyn was recruiting for someone to fill the empty spot in her bed.

  ‘You’re sure?’ Ash asked.

  ‘Completely sure.’ Will got to his feet. ‘Sorry, bruv, but I’m jiggered. You don’t mind if I leave you to it, do you?’

  ‘Seriously? It’s only half-eight. I thought we could have a couple of beers.’

  ‘Another time, eh? I’m no good to anyone after the day I’ve had. I’d only be a grumpy bastard and drool on your shoulder.’

  Ash smiled. ‘All right, if you’re that zonked then I’ll see you in the morning.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Will ruffled Ash’s hair. ‘Night, kid. Be good.’

  When Will reached his bedroom, he fell face-down on the bed and groaned.

  He’d been so close to returning that kiss of Robyn’s tonight, so dangerously close. If he’d had just a bit more wine, been a little more off his guard… Jesus, what the fuck was wrong with him? He’d actually felt himself trembling, feverish with the effort of holding back.

  ‘Physician, heal thyself,’ he muttered, letting out a low laugh that was quickly choked by a sob.

  The problem was, he wasn’t sure there was any cure for falling in love with the same girl as your brother. Apart from one, perhaps – cold turkey.

  Until he was over this, he needed to stay the hell away from Robyn Bloom.

  24

  Robyn had stopped outside the cocktail bar where she was due to meet Freya and their dates to top up her lipstick when her mobile burst into ‘Boom Bang A Bang’.

  ‘Hiya, Frey,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry, I haven’t stood you guys up. I’m right outside.’

  ‘Er, yeah. That’s actually what I’m calling about.’ Freya coughed dramatically. ‘It’s actually me who’s going to have to stand you up. Sorry, Rob, but I’ve managed to catch this cold that’s doing the rounds. Feeling rough as here.’

  ‘Well you could’ve let me know earlier,’ Robyn hissed. ‘What the hell am I supposed to do with two blokes? That’s a rhetorical question, by the way. I know what you’d tell me to do with them.’

  ‘It’s all right, you’re only meeting Eddie. I told Ben I couldn’t make it.’

  ‘I’m not sure I want to do this on my own, Frey.’

  ‘Rubbish, this is exactly what you need. All the better for not having me there to hold your hand.’

  ‘What happened to “double dates are the best kind of dates”?’

  ‘Well, the other sort have their advantages too.’ She smothered a giggle. ‘Ben, get off,’ Robyn heard her whisper.

  ‘Oh my God.’ She groaned. ‘You bloody… floozy! You’re shagging him right now, aren’t you?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean, Rob.’ There was another muffled titter, and the sound of a body part of some description being slapped.

  ‘You are! You let him talk you out of your knickers when he came to collect you. Frey, how could you do this to me?’

  ‘You seriously think I’d call if I was in the middle of shagging him? What sort of first date etiquette would that be? We’re just… you know, messing about.’

  ‘What sort of etiquette is chucking your best mate into the lion’s den alone while you get your oats? Freya Miller, I can’t believe you.’

  ‘Oh, give up, it’ll be good for you. You can’t get to know Eddie properly with us there.’

  ‘And what do I do if I don’t fancy him?’

  ‘You do the British thing and smile politely until it’s late enough to call it a night, then ghost his calls.’

  ‘Yeah, very helpful,’ Robyn said. ‘Frey, I really wanted you there tonight. There was something I was hoping to talk to you about.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s… I did something stupid and it’s been preying on my mind. Look, I don’t want to go into it over the phone while you’re diddling some lad. I’ll tell you and El when I see you.’

  ‘All right, I’ll catch you later, honey. Enjoy your date.’

  ‘Yeah, bye. Enjoy your diddling.’

  When she’d put her phone away, Robyn hesitated for a moment, wondering whether to slouch off home. Still, that wouldn’t be very fair on this Eddie guy, who’d come out tonight just to meet her. She squared her shoulders, took a deep breath
and went inside.

  Number 14 did have a speakeasy vibe: plush, opulent, and ever so slightly grubby. The furnishings were art deco in style, with a black and gold colour scheme; very Gatsby. Lots of mirrors, which reassured Robyn she didn’t look too awful in her little black dress, if slightly over-rounded in the rump and bosom departments. The mood lighting was good and low too, which would hopefully hide the fact she badly needed her highlights topping up.

  She recognised Eddie right away from his Facebook picture, although he looked a few years younger in real life than she’d guessed: early thirties, maybe even late twenties. The bald head had made her misjudge his age – she’d been expecting someone older than her. He was sitting in a corner with one arm flung over the back of the seat, perusing the cocktail menu.

  ‘Um, hi,’ she said. ‘Eddie, right?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He cast her an appraising look, his eyes lingering on her cleavage. ‘You’re Freya’s mate Robyn, are you?’

  ‘That’s right. Er, Freya and Ben can’t make it.’

  ‘I heard, the lucky bastard.’ He grinned as she took a seat opposite. ‘Didn’t give you any ideas, did it? Because my flat’s only a five-minute walk from here.’

  She decided to ignore that comment and grabbed herself a drinks menu.

  ‘Jesus,’ she groaned. ‘Innuendoes galore. Haven’t they got a Sea Breeze or something?’

  ‘They’ve got vodka, cranberry and grapefruit. Only it’s not called a Sea Breeze in here.’

  ‘What is it called?’

  ‘A Fruity Booty.’

  ‘Hmm. Suppose that’s not too obscene.’

  He grinned again. ‘Sure I can’t tempt you to sit on my face?’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘A Sit on my Face. Whisky, Malibu and fruit juice.’

  She shook her head. ‘Places like this are a gift for fans of the cheesy chat-up, aren’t they?’

  ‘Oh come on, love, crack a smile. This is going to be a long night if you’re just going to sit there with your slapped arse face on.’ He raised his hand to get the attention of the barmaid, although as far as Robyn could tell, it wasn’t table service. ‘Can we get two Sit on my Faces over here?’ He winked. ‘And, er, have one yourself.’

  Okay. Well, this wasn’t much fun. Robyn didn’t need to have much more conversation with Eddie to know he was the definition of a complete prat. Still, she could hardly do a bunk ten minutes in. She’d just have to smile and make small talk until an escape route presented itself.

  ‘So what do you do, Eddie?’ she asked when the pissed-off-looking barmaid had brought their drinks over.

  ‘You might say I sell dreams.’

  She frowned. ‘What, like the BFG?’

  ‘Real-life dreams, sweetheart.’ He paused to sip his cocktail. ‘Advertising dreams.’

  ‘Ah. Ad sales.’

  ‘Oh please,’ he said, rolling his eyes. ‘No, I produce storyboards and scripts for radio advertisements.’

  ‘Right. So you must write all those ads where someone meets their mate for coffee then suddenly starts wittering on about this great new product they’ve discovered while unnaturally mentioning the brand name every other word,’ Robyn said, laughing. ‘They make me giggle. Seriously, who talks like that?’

  ‘It’s very skilled,’ he said, bristling in a way that assured Robyn those were exactly what he wrote. ‘I’m one of the most sought-after creatives in my field.’

  ‘Sorry,’ she muttered. ‘Just a joke.’

  ‘What do you do that’s so bloody impressive then?’

  ‘Nothing. I work in a folk museum with a three-headed cat.’

  ‘Well, there you go.’

  Robyn summoned a smile. ‘Look, Eddie, let’s not get off on the wrong foot. I’ll line us up another drink.’

  Great. So now I’m guilt-dating as penance for denting the guy’s ego, she thought as she stood at the bar waiting for a couple more overpriced fruit juices.

  ‘Um, so,’ she said when she got back. ‘Any hobbies?’

  *

  Forty-five minutes later, Robyn was sitting with her chin propped on her fist, listening to Eddie tell yet another story about himself. His hobbies, she’d discovered, were as tedious and narcissistic as he was. They included bragging, bullshitting and boring the pants off any woman unfortunate enough to find herself on a date with him.

  ‘…yeah, three hundred grand,’ he was saying. ‘The guy wanted three-fifty but I talked him down. Well, he was taking the piss. Three-fifty for a farmhouse in bloody Calvados? I mean, the place needed so much work doing before it was even habitable. No en suite, can you believe that?’

  ‘Disgusting,’ Robyn muttered. ‘He must’ve expected you to live like a pig.’

  ‘Right?’ He paused to finish his second cocktail. ‘So what do you drive, Robyn?’

  She blinked. ‘What do I drive?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  That was the first question he’d asked her about herself since she’d arrived, other than defensively demanding to know what she did for a living earlier. And it wasn’t about her job, her hobbies, her family. No, it was about her sodding car.

  ‘A Clio, why?’

  Eddie could barely conceal his sneer. ‘Really, a Clio? Well, I suppose it gets you about.’

  She smiled. ‘Let me guess. BMW?’

  ‘Fuck, no. Audi.’

  ‘Ah, of course. Sorry, I need to send a quick text. Er, just remembered, it’s my aunty’s birthday.’

  She tapped out a message to Freya.

  Obnoxious car bore!!! Get me out of this, Frey, or I swear I’ll never speak to you again as long as I live.

  She stared at it for a bit, but there was no reply. Freya was probably still bouncing around on Ben back at her place. Sighing, Robyn stashed her phone away.

  ‘So you want another drink or are we heading back to mine?’ Eddie asked in a bored voice.

  ‘Er… I’ll order a couple more.’

  *

  ‘Well, everything looks to be running smoothly,’ Ash said to Rachel, his business manager, as he put away his papers at the end of their meeting. ‘Anything you need from me?’

  ‘It’d be nice to see more of you in the studio. You know you’ve only been in once since you got back from Oz? It feels like you’re not much more than a name on the cheques these days, Ash.’

  ‘I guess I have been a bit absent,’ he admitted. ‘Stuff going on, you know? But you guys have got things covered – you don’t need the boss breathing down your necks.’

  ‘Still, I think the team would like to feel they had an employer who was a bit hands-on. The junior designer we took on back in October’s never even seen you. Skipton’s not far to come to meet her, is it?’

  ‘Yeah, you’re right. I will make the effort to pop over more. Anyway, you always know where I am if you need me.’

  He stood up and slung his holdall over his shoulder.

  ‘What’s in the bag, boss?’ Rachel asked. ‘Have you got yourself a paper round on the side?’

  ‘No, it’s my rugby kit. I was supposed to have training tonight, but I’m not going to make it now. Never mind.’

  ‘Yeah, sorry there was so much to get through. How long will it take you to drive back?’

  ‘I’m not driving at the moment; I need to renew my insurance. I’m bussing it home. Very head of the firm, right?’

  She laughed. ‘Nothing wrong with the bus. Long to wait for the next one?’

  ‘About an hour. Still, better than shelling out for a taxi. Is there anywhere you’d recommend going for a quiet drink?’

  ‘On a Friday evening? Town’ll be busy.’ Rachel paused to think. ‘You could try the 1920s cocktail place, that’s usually pretty dead. It’s a bit too niche for people round here.’

  ‘Okay, I don’t mind a cocktail,’ he said, shrugging. ‘Where is it?’

  ‘Down on the canal. Number 14.’

  25

  Ash found the bar easily, nestled between an Indian restaurant an
d a heaving nightclub. Not really his sort of establishment, but it did look quiet: somewhere to hole up and read his book while he waited for the next bus home. There was a hum of mellow jazz emanating from the place, which he approved of. Better than the thumping bass coming from the club next door anyway. He nodded to the bouncer and made his way down the steps.

  When he got in, he discovered it was busier than Rachel had thought. Every table looked to be occupied. Seats were free at the bar though. Ash hoisted himself onto a stool and smiled at the barmaid.

  ‘What can I get you?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh God, I dunno. You recommend something.’

  ‘Well, our Slow Comfortable Screws always go down well,’ she said, flushing slightly.

  He laughed. ‘It’s a living, eh, love? That’ll do fine, thanks.’

  Ash glanced round the bar again, then did a double take as his gaze fell on a couple nearby.

  Wasn’t that… yes, it was as well. Robyn Bloom, looking very sexy in a clingy black dress with her hair piled on top of her head. She didn’t seem to have spotted her ex as she leaned on her elbows, listening to the shaven-headed man sitting opposite talk.

  She looked bored stiff. If this was a date, it obviously wasn’t one Ash needed to feel threatened by.

  The barmaid came back with his drink. When he’d paid, he subtly shuffled over a few seats so he could hear what Robyn and her date were talking about.

  ‘…2018 TT, two-door sports coupé,’ the Right Said Fred lookalike was saying. ‘Handles like a dream. I can take you for a spin if you like.’

  ‘What, now?’ Robyn said. ‘That’s your third cocktail.’

  ‘It’s fine, I don’t really feel it. Misspent youth, you know?’ He looked her up and down. ‘You might want to make that your last one though. Lot of calories in these things. It’s not so easy to keep the weight off once you get to your age, I suppose.’

  ‘Oof,’ Ash muttered. ‘Car bore and a twat. Poor old Rob.’

  He toyed with his cocktail stirrer, an idea forming.

  She might be angry if he tried it. She’d been about ready to tear him a new one the last time he’d seen her, the day he’d pretended to be Will. Still, it was worth a shot – she could only tell him to sod off, after all. He picked up his Slow Comfortable Screw and headed for the table Robyn was sharing with her date.