by Andi Osho
Meagan sat back sipping her wine as Jemima continued her futile attempts to derail Simi’s plans. Just because Jemima was terrified of men it didn’t mean Simi had to be. Meagan admired Simi’s desire to recalibrate and if she could help her move on from Oscar, she would. She’d only concocted this idea as a way of getting Simi to go to her audition but actually, it might do her some good. They had sat by the sidelines for long enough. It was time to get on the court and give Simi some much-needed coaching.
‘Jem, don’t you want to help me?’ Simi said, taking Jemima’s hand.
‘Of course I do. I just think there’s better fixes than pestering random men.’
‘Such as?’ Simi asked.
‘Well, I’m not the expert,’ Jemima floundered.
‘Exactly. In fact, you could do with a little help yourself,’ said Meagan as she gave their waiter the nod to fetch another bottle.
This was no longer just a regular night out and for that, they needed more wine.
‘I’m fine as I am, thank you,’ said Jemima crossing her arms.
‘Shit. There’s Miles!’ hissed Meagan, pointing to the other side of the bar.
‘What, where?!’ said Jemima, eyes wide as she dived under their table, ‘Did he see me? Is he looking?’
‘Meagan. That was mean,’ said Simi. ‘He’s not here, Jem.’
Jemima slowly emerged, straightening her sweater and glaring at Meagan. ‘Not funny.’
‘I wasn’t trying to be funny. I was proving a point. You both need to change it up,’ she said taking a triumphant gulp of wine.
Jemima made one more nervous sweep of the bar before sitting back down and taking a large mouthful of wine too.
‘She’s right, Jem,’ ventured Simi. ‘It’s been two years and you haven’t had a single date.’
‘I’ve been busy,’ said Jemima.
‘Ptttthh,’ Meagan said rolling her eyes.
‘Let’s be honest. We could all learn something from this,’ said Simi looking at Meagan.
Meagan looked around the bar ignoring Simi’s gaze. The game or challenge or whatever, was about fixing Simi’s love life not hers. Everything in Meagan’s world was just as she wanted it.
‘Simi’s right, Meag. Meagan?’ Jemima said firmly.
‘You’ve been seeing Todd for four years but you’re not even boyfriend and girlfriend,’ added Simi.
‘For the gazillionth time, I’m not seeing Todd. We have sex. Regularly. That’s it.’
The waiter discreetly switched out their wine bottles, showing no signs of acknowledging the conversation. Jemima gave him a polite smile.
‘You’ve been exclusive for a whole year,’ Jemima argued.
‘I’ve been busy!’ Meagan deflected.
‘Ptttthh,’ said Jemima sitting back with a self-satisfied smirk.
‘Whatever.’
Okay, so she hadn’t slept with anyone other than Todd in the last twelve months. She’d been too busy to find a replacement. And anyway, why would she? Who eats burgers when they’ve got the keys to a steak house? But that wasn’t ‘seeing each other’, that was screwing. Maybe Todd was getting a bit hazy on that detail. Was that why he’d been more clingy of late? He thinks they are a thing? If so, Meagan needed to shut that down, and dating other guys was a sure-fire way to do it.
‘Okay, I’m in,’ Meagan said, slapping the table. ‘How’s it going to work?’
‘Wait, what?’ blurted Jemima.
Meagan shrugged as Simi rummaged in her bag for her crumpled-up audition script. On it were a scrawled network of notes.
‘What?’ Simi said, looking up at Meagan and Jemima’s confused expressions. ‘I made some notes while I was waiting for you.’
Meagan wrapped her hand around her drink and sat back. What kind of sweet hell was this?
‘So first, I thought we could make a list of your guy friends and—’ began Simi, pen poised.
Meagan sat bolt upright. ‘HARD no, Simi. For real. Forget it. My friends aren’t just friends, they’re work associates and I don’t wanna mess with that by tangling them up with you two. No shade,’ she added off of Jemima’s offended scowl.
‘That’s not fair. You met Todd through Jemima,’ Simi wailed.
‘Errr, slow your roll. Yes, he works at Hudson Hicks but I caught that fish all by myself,’ Meagan said folding her arms.
Simi looked to Jemima for help.
‘It’s true,’ said Jemima, ‘Meag hooked up with him after that first Hudson Hicks party we went to and the rest, as they say, is her story…’
Simi sagged, resting her head on her hand, ‘Well, if friends are out, how are we going to find dates for each other and break each other out of our patterns?’ Simi pleaded.
‘What if we set up online dating accounts for each other?’ said Jemima.
Meagan leaned back in her chair, looking around the bar, which for a weeknight was buzzing.
‘We need to think of this as an experiment, and for that we need fresh samples but you two are overthinking it,’ she said. ‘Internet dating is a long ting. Messaging back and forth til you get ghosted. Who’s got time for that? Let’s just bowl up to someone. Yes or no, mate? Yes? Cool. No? Your loss. IRL. Face-time. Old school stylee!’
‘Yes!’ said Simi. ‘Let’s get out there and face-time! For each other! And change our shit!’
‘Yes, Sim! And there’s no time like the present,’ said Meagan, clapping her hands and whistling for their waiter, ‘Three sambucas, my good man!’
‘Oh my god, what are we doing?’ said Jemima.
‘This is great. I love it!’ squawked Simi. ‘What’s IRL??’
Chapter 13
Jemima
‘So we’re literally going to walk up to a bloke and go, “Excuse me, my friend fancies you”?’ Jemima said, sniffing her sambuca with suspicion.
It reeked of liquorice and bad choices.
‘Yeah,’ said Meagan gulping her shot.
‘I’m so excited!’ squeaked Simi, ‘Let’s come up with some rules of engagement.’
‘Because this will be a battle,’ Jemima murmured, feeling like that cowardly soldier who knows there’s no escape other than going over the top.
This wasn’t what she should be doing with her Wednesday nights. She should be planning loft conversions and going on wine-tasting holidays not embarking on a game of My Friend Fancies You. This was going to be horrific for her. Men would love having a 29-year-old like Meagan bouncing towards them but being ambushed by a 42-year-old recluse was a different story. Jemima groaned as Simi excitedly smoothed out her overturned script pages, to take notes. Meagan tapped the table for quiet.
‘Okay, rule one, we always ask guys out for each other, never for ourselves. So for example, I’ll ask someone out for you,’ said Meagan pointing at Jemima, ‘you ask someone out for Simi and she’ll ask someone out for me. Round Robin.’
‘Perfect,’ said Simi scribbling on her crumpled papers, ‘and it’s important the guys know who we truly are so, rule number two, no fibbing or exaggerating. No telling them I have a fake leg or that I’m an Olympian,’ said Simi glaring at Meagan.
‘Fine. I’ve got a rule for you, no falling in love,’ Meagan said staring right back at Simi.
Simi broke Meagan’s gaze and diligently noted that down, ‘Three. No… falling… in… love.’
Jemima rolled her eyes. If any of them were likely to do that, it wasn’t her.
‘Question,’ she interjected raising a hand. ‘If we don’t like the guy, we can veto, right?’
Simi considered this. ‘That sounds fair…’
‘Of course you can’t!’ barked Meagan. ‘The whole point is to get you two out of your comfort zones and meeting different guys or in your case, Jem – a guy.’
‘Rule number four?’ asked Simi revelling in her role as secretary.
‘You betcha, Simster,’ said Meagan.
Jemima necked her shot and thumped her head on the table. Why couldn’t Simi go to therapy l
ike a normal person? ‘How long do we have to do this for?’ she grumbled.
‘Well, in Change Your Life, Become a Wife, it says—’ began Simi.
‘There is NOT a book called Change Your Life, Become a Wife?’ Meagan said, eyes wide.
‘Just listen. It says that changing a habit takes twenty-one days but changing your life takes ninety,’ Simi said enthusiastically.
Jemima’s heart began to race. This was the worst idea since that 3D Jaws sequel. She wouldn’t be able to take three days of this let alone three months. She panicked, looking around for an escape route. Meagan gave her a comforting pat on the knee, though to Jemima it felt more like the reassurance you give a lame racehorse who knows its fate.
‘Relax, Jem. Let’s do a month,’ said Meagan. ‘That’s plenty of time to change our habits.’
How was it that a few days ago Jemima had everything locked down but now worms were spewing from the proverbial can all over the place. Through not just gritted teeth but a gritted body, Jemima clinked glasses with Simi and Meagan, agreeing to at least give it a try.
‘Jem, it’s just a date. You never have to see them again if you don’t want to,’ Meagan said, nudging her.
Jemima sighed, her tension eventually subsiding. Maybe she could bear a few platonic evenings out?
‘Fine. Let’s give it a go,’ she conceded.
‘Perfect! I’ll start,’ Simi said scraping back her chair.
‘Wait, now?’ bleated Jemima but Simi was already standing.
‘I saw a guy earlier who would be perfect for you,’ said Simi before disappearing into the throng.
Jemima watched Simi head off trying to look sassy and confident and not heartbroken and betrayed. The head held high was good but the swinging shoulders was more Eighties-soap-star than she probably intended. Nineteen seconds later Simi returned in defeat.
‘I— I don’t know what I did wrong,’ she said looking back at the two guys she’d literally left scratching their heads.
Meagan indicated to the waiter to bring three more shots as Jemima quietly hoped Simi’s swift defeat would show her the madness in this. Maybe now she might consider therapy or at least unfollowing Oscar on Instagram. How many cycling photos can one person truly like? She rested her hand on Simi’s arm and was just about to administer some gentle but firm love when Meagan piped up.
‘Tell you where you went wrong. You’ve got to look like you don’t give a shit,’ she said. ‘Like Jemima. See?’
‘That’s just my face!’ Jemima said.
It wasn’t that she didn’t give a shit, she just wasn’t convinced what Simi needed after the end of a relationship was even more rejection, even if it was on someone else’s behalf!
‘Come on, Jem. You have a go. Watch this, Simi. You’ll see what I mean,’ said Meagan.
Jemima gawped at her with the expression of a death row convict who’d just heard the executioner’s keys. Fine. Two wipeouts were bound to end this insanity. Jemima wobbled to her feet. Steeped in sambuca, she unsteadily scanned the bar. Way over on the other side, she spotted her mark. He looked like a nice enough guy and that would do. Jemima made her way over. She’d had enough drinks to give her false courage but not so much that a nightclub sounded like a good idea. As she approached with a full bladder and empty mind, she decided to opt for her father’s usual opening gambit of tapping someone on the shoulder and saying, ‘Excuse me, young man!’
As she prodded the tall stranger in the back, his whole table, work colleagues she presumed, turned to look at her. Shit, gulped Jemima. Now she was up close, her mark looked exactly like Oscar! He had the same cappuccino skin and was thin, tall and athletic just like Simi’s ex. She definitely had to fail. If she brought this guy over, Simi would either fall madly in love or think Jemima was some perverse psychopath intent on compounding her misery. She looked back at Meagan who was waving at her to get on with it. Jemima caught her balance and yanked Oscar 2.0 aside.
‘This is going to sound weird but I’m going to ask you out for my friend and you have to pretend you’re not interested,’ she hissed at him.
‘I’m not interested. I’m married,’ said 2.0 holding up his wedding ring finger and turning away.
Jemima grabbed his hand and tried to shove it in his pocket, ‘No one can see that!’
‘But I want them to. That’s why I wear it – so strangers like you know I’m married,’ said 2.0 as he looked back to his friends for help.
‘Don’t worry about them,’ said Jemima turning 2.0’s face back to hers. ‘Shhhhhhh. Listen, listen, you just need to let this play out and I’ll go away.’
‘You promise?’ said 2.0 as one of his colleagues appeared by his side.
‘You alright, Deon?’
‘I honestly don’t know,’ he said.
His colleague gave him the internationally recognised look for give-me-the-signal-and-I-will-rugby-tackle-this-lunatic-for-you then returned to their table where everyone pretended to talk while eavesdropping. Jemima pressed on.
‘You ready?’ she said rubbing her hands.
‘And you promise you’ll go away?’
‘Exactly!’ She beamed. ‘Okay, so Dane—’
‘Deon…’
‘Exactly, would you like a date with my friend?’ boomed Jemima before whispering behind her hand, ‘then you look at her and shake your head so they can see.’
Deon looked over at Simi who was straining to see him through the crowd.
‘No thank you,’ he said shaking his head.
‘Do it more,’ Jemima said, ‘and then wave your hands like, no. This is acting 101, Dave. It’s got to read across the whole space.’
Jemima remembered Simi saying something along those lines when describing theatre acting.
‘I’m not interested,’ bellowed Deon waving his hands.
‘Bravo,’ said Jemima in a whisper that could have been heard in a helicopter.
She patted him on the back, shoved him towards his friends and left. Behind her, Jemima heard the sound of crashing glass and knew she’d shoved him too hard. Cringing, she decided to just… keep… on… walking.
‘What happened?’ Meagan asked Jemima as Deon beckoned over a waiter and pointed in their direction.
Jemima watched as the waiter approached and braced herself, ready to defuse the situation. This place was in her top three best haunts. She couldn’t get barred for harassing men!
‘Sorry, Sorry,’ she said placing a hushing finger on her lips as only noisy, drunk people do.
The waiter smiled patiently. ‘No worries. Just, please, don’t bother people,’ he said clearing the assortment of glasses from their table.
Jemima mimed hushing everyone as he left.
‘Right, well we tried but you heard the man. We’re bothering people,’ she said, sitting back down.
‘But what happened over there?’ Simi asked, ignoring her.
Jemima crossed her fingers under the table. ‘He said he thought it was, and I quote, weird and not what he expected from three adult women persons then he made me promise to go away.’
Meagan stared at Jemima. ‘He said that?’
Jemima gave an overzealous nod before turning to Simi. ‘But he did say you were incredibly beautiful and if he saw you on a dating website, he’d be more than interested.’
Simi clutched her chest. ‘Aaah, so sweet!’
See, there were times when lying was okay, Jemima reassured herself.
‘We gave it a shot but probably best we quit while we’re behind,’ she said, sweeping up her drink.
Without a word, Meagan vanished into the crowd. Damn, thought Jemima. If anyone was going to succeed at this, it was her. Five minutes later Meagan returned with Gil, an uncomfortable hybrid of hipster chic and millennial awkwardness.
‘Jemima, meet Gil. Gil, this is Jemima. Like I say, she told me – she fancies you,’ said Meagan before dusting her hands of the two of them and dragging Simi off to another table.
Jemima looked
from Meagan to Gil and back again in horror. What had just happened? A moment ago she was on the way to burying this idiotic game and now she was on a date! She eyed up Gil, clocking his tattoo sleeve, hipster beard and lumberjack shirt.
‘Watcha,’ he said sitting. ‘Your home girl said you’re a writer. I write content for an Internet start-up so, you know. Great minds.’
He clicked his fingers back and forth, indicating the simpatico. Jemima looked over at Meagan with a glare that said both, help and you bloody cow! Meagan turned away with a broad smirk.
At Jemima’s table, Gil was filling the conversational void by talking about his top five breakfast foods and passion for the new cereal restaurant which had opened near his Shoreditch office.
‘Cheerios, Weetabix, Cornflakes, Rice Krispies, porridge, obvs. Pop Tarts, actually that’s six,’ he yakked.
Jemima had been planning on having a coffee to sober up but listening to Gil’s waffle was doing a much better job. As Gil rambled on, she spotted Simi get up from her table with that same intent she’d had earlier. Jemima had to stop her. They’d already been warned to stop bothering people. If they were going to play this game at all, it had to be in a place they had never been or never would again. That was non-negotiable.
‘Okay, Gil, lovely to meet you. We must have cereal sometime,’ Jemima blurted before staggering over to the girls’ table and stopping Simi in her tracks.
‘Thank God that date’s over,’ Jemima said pulling Simi back into her chair. ‘Probs best we knock it on the head for tonight though.’
Simi glared at Jemima.
‘That was the introduction,’ she scolded. ‘You can’t have the date the night you meet.’
‘What?’ exclaimed Jemima looking back at Gil as he raised his mason jar of pale ale at her.
‘You mean I have to spend a whole other evening… with him? Why?’ wailed Jemima.
‘Rule number five. Girl Code. No woman left behind. If two of us get dates and have them that night, the last one would be left on her own and we can’t do that.’
Jemima’s head thumped onto the table again.
‘Then we need better dates. You matched me with a lumbersexual manboy,’ she moaned.