#Toots

by Linh Le James

  ‘Like down there?’

  ‘Do not interrupt. I don’t want to know. Anything hairy, OK? Apart from the hair on your scalp. Start hanging out with older and uglier colleagues so you look prettier in comparison.’ I pause for a second. Is that even possible? There are only so many hideous people working in the building. ‘Somehow learn how to give a good blowjob-’

  ‘-A blowjob? How?’

  ‘YouTube tutorials. Or watch porn. Get on Tinder. Shag anyone you can get your hands on to get your confidence up. After that, you might not want Albert any more. But if you do, he’ll be all yours. That’s it.’

  ‘Jess! How can I thank you? I could bake some cupcakes for Molly’s christening. Or for your birthday-’

  ‘-I hate your cupcakes, Pat.’

  The Girls

  Thursday. Emily and Lola’s flat. 7 pm.

  ‘I’m torn! I don’t know what to do. It was too good to be true. He’s too perfect. Affectionate, handsome, clever, has a steady job. There had to be something wrong.’ Emily throws herself on the settee and buries her face in the cushions.

  ‘What’s wrong, Em? Is it Max? Do you want to talk about it?’ Lola turns off the pan she was stirring and wipes her hands on the tea towel.

  ‘He made sure he never mentioned anything. How was I to guess? It’s bad. So bad.’ Emily folds her legs under herself in a child’s pose, still holding a cushion over her head.

  ‘You can tell me anything. Come here.’ Lola joins her on the settee and makes her sit up and face her.

  ‘I found in his underwear drawer, hidden under his boxers…’ Emily hides her face in her hands and gulps.

  Lola prises her fingers away and pulls a funny face to try to make her laugh. ‘What could be so bad? Cross-dressing? Golden showers? I’d defo draw the line at anything scat.’

  ‘Max is Leo’s brother! He had seen a photo of me with Leo on Facebook before and when he saw my profile on Match he recognized me and messaged me!’ Emily whines.

  ‘Funny coincidence. But why did he message you? Because he liked your profile, right?’

  ‘That’s what he says! But I’m worried he only did it to get back at Leo. Because Leo shagged his ex. Which means I’m nothing to him. Just a toy he’s exploiting.’

  ‘From what you’ve been telling me about the super-hot sex I don’t think many women would mind being exploited by him. Don’t you believe in the laws of the universe though? Leo is an arse. But you had to kiss, I mean shag, that frog to get to your prince. Total fate. Besides, if he wanted to exploit you, he’d have dumped you by now. Or sold you to a triad for forced labour or prostitution. You said it’s the most serious relationship you ever had!’

  ‘Indeed. He did mention taking me on his next race trip abroad.’

  ‘See? No panic. And don’t mention Leo. There’s a million other things you can talk about.’

  ‘Please don’t tell the girls about it. Yet. I can’t face a grilling from Carla. She hates Leo and she’d assume Max is bad news just because he shares his genes.’

  ‘My toots! I’m home!’ Carla singsongs from the hallway. ‘Look what I found in the street!’

  Louise flops on the sofa as soon as she makes it to the lounge. ‘Move over, Em. I’m exhausted. I’ve been dishing out massages all day but I’m the one who needs one. What’s for dinner? And, more important, what is there to drink?’

  ‘Good job I was planning on cooking enough for a family of ten. I’m making a tofu, baby corn, choy sum and Chinese leaf stir fry with glass noodles on the side. We can vote on black bean or hoisin sauce.’ Lola, the main chef in the household, declares all businesslike.

  ‘Tofu?’ Louise protests. ‘I’m not eating tofu! I’m not the bloody Daily Lama! I refuse to swallow any more veggie rubbish! I’ve stayed at Nick’s for the past few nights and we eat nothing but bits of cardboard disguised as sausages. And if I see another flat mushroom, I’ll throw myself in the Thames. Surely you have some actual real meat in the fridge? Something that has come from a living creature?’

  ‘I need some comfort food after the week I’ve had,’ Carla complains. ‘I’ll warm up the leftover beef and ale pie and chuck some chips on. OK with you, Lou?’

  ‘My. Name. Is. Louisa. Yes, fine. Is that a bottle of red I see over there? That’ll do too. Someone please give me a glass. I can’t get up, I’m beat.’

  Emily obediently obliges. ‘Where were you, Lou? We haven’t seen you in ages! Didn’t you go to UAE and Holland?’

  ‘No. I went to Abu Dhabi and Amsterdam, actually,’ Louise corrects. ‘With my boyfriend Nick,’ she adds smugly.

  ‘Boyfriend? Yee-haw! Well, cheers to that!’ Emily clinks glasses with her. ‘Isn’t it amazing? We all met our new guys in the last few weeks. You and Nick. Me and Max. Carla and Freddie—’

  ‘Don’t count Freddie,’ Carla objects. ‘He’s just the rebound guy. A distraction in my painful life right now. I have no flat, a job from which I might just as well resign, since the whole office thinks I’m some slag who’s slept her way up the ladder, and a toddler for a boyfriend. Great.’

  ‘Your turn will come,’ Louise adds in a condescending tone which makes Carla roll her eyes. ‘I waited for the right man and it paid off. Me and Nick, we were meant to end up together. He’s gorgeous. Successful. Just perfect, really.’

  The doorbell goes. ‘That must be Jess! She said she had to come and pick up her package,’ Emily calls out. ‘Lola, did you get anything?’

  ‘No, ask Mrs. Wilson!’ Lola answers from the kitchen, pouring sesame oil into the wok with a flourish and stirring it energetically.

  Emily finds Jess at the door and goes to knock on the pensioner’s door.

  ‘Hello dear!’ Mrs. Wilson beams as she opens the door. ‘I do have two parcels for you. One of them I had to open in front of the driver because the box was damaged, and he said if the contents inside were not intact I could refuse delivery and you could get a refund. It looked OK so I kept it. See for yourself.’ She pulls out a matching vibrator and male masturbator. ‘What an amazing pestle and mortar. Does it automatically grind the spices? It looks so modern. Today’s technology never ceases to surprise me. You’ll have to show me how it works. I still grind my nutmeg by hand. Maybe I could do with one of those.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs. Wilson, you’re too kind.’ Emily picks up both boxes, blushing to the tips of her ears.

  ‘Lola! Your sex toys! Mrs. Wilson thought they were a pestle and mortar,’ Emily remonstrates as she puts the package down on the coffee table.

  ‘Hilarious!’ Lola exclaims, plating up. ‘Em, with noodles? I’m giving the masturbator to Noah, my latest conquest– he’s going back to Australia for a month. This set has the best reviews of all teledildonics for this year. You both connect by Bluetooth and the toys communicate with each other over the internet. They vibrate at different speeds, depending on what the other toy is doing. How cool is that? Jess, fancy some stir fry?’

  ‘Sorry, I’m supposed to be at yoga now. I’ll have tea with Scott when I get home.’ Jess is sporting a black yoga ensemble with kitten heels. ‘Is that wine? I don’t fancy red. Any sauvignon blanc around?’

  ‘Is it more spy gear?’ Carla asks, spotting the box Jess is clutching. She cuts a generous slice of pie for Louise and herself and adds a dollop of ketchup on the side.

  ‘Jess, I can make you a cocktail if you want. One of my special creations?’ Lola gives Emily a pair of chopsticks in exchange for the salt. ‘Em, it’s already seasoned. Don’t insult my food, please, babes.’

  ‘Oh yes, please! I’d love a cocktail. Just one. Don’t make it too strong – I’m driving. A-ha! This should be the Socket Mains Recorder.’ Jess slices the box open with her car key. ‘Can’t wait to set it up. Scott won’t be able to bullshit me when I’m done.’

  ‘What happens when you get your proof, though? Will you leave him? Don’t you think your marriage needs another chance?’ Emily asks her anxiously.

  ‘Scott has been playing awa
y? Why am I always the last to know these things?’ Louise grouches. ‘Mind you, doesn’t come as a shock to me. I always did picture him as a cheater. He drinks Guinness, doesn’t he?’

  ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ Carla blurts out, irritated by Louise adding fuel to the fire.

  ‘Guinness drinkers are all cheaters. It’s a scientific fact. Nathan, only ever drunk Guinness. And he’d cheat on his own shadow if he could,’ Louise states in a matter-of-fact tone.

  ‘Leo does enjoy Guinness too, to think of it. And we all know what kind of person he is,’ Emily adds, disquieted.

  ‘She does have a point.’ Jess nods thoughtfully. ‘All the red flags were there, and I never saw them. Duped. Fooled.’

  ‘This conversation is ludicrous!’ Carla exclaims. ‘You can’t tell if your partner is cheating by the beverages he likes!’

  ‘Yep, you can totally tell,’ Lola chirps, coming in carrying a tray of drinks. ‘Dean, cheater and Guinness drinker. I don’t know if he stopped cheating, but he stopped drinking Guinness after I made him drink his own cum.’

  ‘What? How?’ Louise asks, who hasn’t heard the story before.

  ‘I can’t stand the taste of cum. It’s like Marmite, right? Love it or hate it. I asked him to pull out and he didn’t, because he’s a twat, right. So, I kept his load in my mouth then mixed it with his beer afterwards. And told him after he drunk it. Enough about arseholes. I present you my creation. Inspired by us. The Tootsaw’d. Stands for Toots-Ass-Whipped. Expression applicable to boyfriends, husbands and exes when they’re dissed or tortured by their other half’s toots.’

  ‘So, you could say we Tootsaw’d Leo? And Ben? Or Scott?’

  ‘Totally Tootsaw’d indeed.’ Lola distributes a round of cocktails.

  ‘Hmm, this is luscious.’ Jess gulps half of her cocktail down. ‘What’s in it? No cum I hope?’

  ‘Don’t be silly! Emily’s the grenadine, nice and sweet. You’re the Campari, mellow and a tiny bit bitter. Carla is the gin, classy and classic. Lou is the vermouth, dry and, er, just dry. And I’m the ice, cool as a cat. Cheers, my toots!’

  ‘Jess, could I please bring Max to the christening?’ Emily asks anxiously.

  ‘Of course! He can help babysit the brats. Did you warn him it’s going to be mayhem?’

  ‘I’m thinking of bringing Nick, but can you please let me know who your caterers are? Will you have vegan options? If he’s going to meet family and all, I want us to make a good impression. I mean, the food and us.’ Louise makes a circling motion with her hand, encompassing all the toots.

  ‘There will be veggie options. I have egg sandwiches, veggie samosas and spring rolls, crisps, cheeses.’ Jess counts on her fingers. ‘There will be loads – don’t worry.’

  ‘Talking about the christening, how come we haven’t had a Skype to compare our outfits?’ Louise asks, pouring herself another glass of red without offering any to the others. ‘What are you all wearing?’

  ‘Lola’s wearing her turquoise maxi dress from Monsoon, Carla her plum pencil dress from Harvey Nics, Jess a Karen Millen black bodycon, and I’m wearing a new pink dress from New Look,’ Emily announces proudly.

  ‘Sorry, Em, but you’re not,’ Louise says firmly.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Emily sucks on her chopsticks, frowning.

  ‘I am wearing pink,’ Louise declares, deadpan. ‘We can’t both wear pink. Besides, you never wear pink. For good reasons as well – you know it washes you out. Whereas pink suits me. It goes with my skin tone. I have this Stella McCartney dress which looks phenomenal on me. It cost me a bundle and I bought it especially for the occasion. For our first public appearance as a couple, me and Nick.’

  ‘There are various shades of pink. You haven’t seen Em’s dress yet,’ Carla argues diplomatically.

  ‘Mia’s dress is pink. Can she wear it?’ Jess asks sarcastically.

  ‘See? That’s why you shouldn’t have had the Skype outfit call without me! I’m not that dull!’ Lola retaliates, hurt in her voice.

  ‘Well, you were away—’ Emily starts to justify before Carla discreetly crushes her foot under the table.

  ‘Everybody, just chill. Lou, do not fret. Em’s dress is peach. And I bet yours is hot pink, because that’s what you always wear. Matter’s closed. Let’s have another round of Tootsaw’d.’ Lola marches back to the kitchen. The doorbell rings. She goes to answer it.

  She returns to the lounge a minute later and announces with consternation, ‘Carla, there’s someone at the door for you. It’s not Freddie, nor Ben. It’s … worse.’

  A young red-headed whippersnapper is standing in the hallway. ‘Are you Carla Davies?’

  ‘Maybe. Who’s asking? Are you raising money for charity or something?’ Carla quizzes, frowning in suspicion.

  ‘Are you or are you not? I only have 15 minutes.’

  ‘Suppose I am. Get on with it. What do you want?’

  The young lad removes a guitar from its case.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Carla shrieks in panic. ‘Put it back in there! I don’t want to see it!’

  Emily rushes to the door and shouts, ‘Carla! Is it an exhibitionist? I’ll call the police now!’

  ‘Whoa! Hang on, woman!’ He spots Emily waving her mobile threateningly in the air and holds both arms up, one still clutching his guitar. ‘Relax. No need to call anybody. I’ve been commissioned by Ben to serenade Carla Davies. I’m Ed Sheeran.’

  The girls burst out laughing.

  ‘Right. I’m an Ed Sheeran impersonator.’

  Carla sobers up and tells Emily, ‘I feel bad for Ben. Does he really think a song is going to change my mind? I was desperate for him to propose. Looking back now, I’m glad he didn’t. I would have said yes, obviously, and it would have been the beginning of the end. We would have kids, because it’s what you do, right? He would then resent the pressure I put on him to get married and to have children. He would hate me, and we’d end up divorcing.’

  ‘What would you say if he asked you now?’ Emily asks.

  ‘I would say no. The break made me realize-’

  ‘-I’m still here!’ the young lad interrupts. ‘Can I please sing the song now?’

  ‘Sorry, we forgot about you for a second. By the way, I have to ask.’ Carla quizzes. ‘Are you a natural redhead or is your hair coloured?’

  ‘Casting Crème Gloss Amber. I do the beard too. I’m a perfectionist. Back to business. Ben asked for “Photograph”-’

  ‘-How much do you charge?’

  ‘£60, not including travel expenses. £40 for repeat business.’

  ‘Well, this is kind of repeat business.’ Carla fishes two twenty-pound notes from her wallet. ‘I commission “We are Never, Ever, Ever Getting Back Together” by Taylor Swift for Ben. And I’m giving my song to our next-door neighbour. She’s a bit deaf so you’ll have to pound on the door. I’d like “Oh Pretty Woman” for her.’

  Lola shows up at the door and bellows, ‘What? That’s a pussy choice, Carla. Why don’t you just ask him to roll on the floor and let Ben kick him too? I commission “Fire Burns” by Nicky Minaj! Here’s twenty quid from me!’ She shoves the bill in the lad’s hand.

  ‘Oh! I’d quite like to hear “Kiss It Better” by Rihanna! But I’m skint. Can I pay you with some stir fry?’ Emily butts in.

  Louisa, attracted by the commotion, comes over and, peering over Carla’s shoulder, exclaims, ‘Em! Don’t be ridiculous! We’re not going to invite a total stranger in and give him some food in exchange for a song! He’s not even hot!’

  ‘Excuse me?’ the lad interjects, offended.

  ‘I love live music, though. What if I put it in one of those plastic takeaway boxes so he doesn’t have to come in?’ Emily offers.

  ‘Em, it’s my stir fry! You just can’t give it away!’ Lola objects.

  Jess makes her way to the front and probes, tilting her head, ‘Do you offer other services besides singing? I need a perfect stranger to tail my husband. I
have a limited budget, though.’

  ‘Ladies!’ the Ed Sheeran impersonator roars. ‘I am not selling art for a stir fry! And I don’t spy on people. I’m an artist!’

  Jess’s phone alarm rings. ‘Damn. My yoga class is over. I need to head home. See you at the christening. Sunday. And stop bickering.’

  ‘I blame it on Tootsaw’d. It brings out our darker side. Right, I’m going to make another round.’ Lola chuckles and heads back to the kitchen to pour more drinks.

  Chapter 17

  Tootsaw’d

  Tootsaw’d

  (short for Toots-Ass-Whipped)

  /tuːts as wɪpt/

  Informal

  adjective

  1.Figuratively having one’s buttocks flogged with a whip/being harshly criticized or picked apart by one’s partner’s girlfriends.

  Noun.

  2. A cocktail that originated in London.

  Louise

  Sunday. The Christening. The Hawk and Hare. 2 pm.

  ‘Louisa, shall we go outside and join your family on the lawn? It’s a superb day.’

  ‘No, Nick. My heels will sink in the grass. Why don’t we just have a bite inside? Although I can’t vouch for the quality of the catering – I doubt this place is even listed in the Michelin guide.’

  ‘I like this pub very much. Have you noticed it’s called the Hawk and Hare? The eagle keeps appearing in my life since I’ve met you. How amazing. I need to get you some books on synchronicity. It is hard for you to understand until you experience the synchronistic realm for yourself.’