Asking for a Friend

by Andi Osho

  ‘At least I got you someone,’ said Meagan.

  Simi raised her hands to quell the bickering.

  ‘Okay, Jem. We’ll chalk this one up as a test. You don’t have to see Gil again but we need to figure out how this thing is going to work. Meag, come over to Jem’s tomorrow. We can create a playbook and you can give us some tips.’

  ‘You lot might be beyond help,’ said Meagan.

  Feeling Simi’s doe eyes burning into her, Jemima nodded glumly no longer possessing the energy nor the sobriety to fight this.

  Meagan waved her credit card at the waiter and once the bill was paid they slipped on their coats and headed into the icy January night. Jemima sucked in the cold air as though it were the common sense she’d left at the door earlier that evening.

  ‘Relax, you wally. They’re just men,’ Meagan said prodding her. ‘Besides, all this dating drama will be good for your book.’

  Jemima smiled noncommittally as they hugged their goodbyes and Meagan went off to dome, teabag and spider with Todd or whatever they did that left her waddling the next day.

  Moments later, an Uber arrived and Jemima and Simi clambered in.

  On the way home, as Simi snored in the crook of her arm, Jemima mulled over Meagan’s parting words. This dating drama will be good for your book… It hadn’t occurred to Jemima that this experience might actually be of use. Though Beverly would never play a game like this, by Jemima playing it with the girls, it did give her a window into their love lives and their attitude towards relationships. Coupling these insights with their stories might give her the material she needed to finish her book. But how should she broach this without getting consigned to the naughty step with Troy – forever. She wound down her window to let the breeze sober her up. Simi stirred, repositioning herself onto her lap as Jemima stroked her hair.

  ‘Thanks for tonight, Jem. I already feel better,’ said Simi and she nodded off again as their 4.9-rated driver whisked them home.

  Chapter 14

  Simi

  Simi gawped at Meagan from across the kitchen. Tonight was supposed to be about dropping dating knowledge not major league bombshells.

  ‘But if Bradley Tyson has been fired from Clash of the Crown, who’s going to replace him?’ Simi asked, her mind somersaulting at the possibilities.

  Perhaps the producers had realised they need someone with more cachet, perhaps even, BAFTA-winning cachet. Simi grinned as she speculated over potential replacements. Would they go for Darius Wallington, an African American acting titan? They’d be lucky to get him though. He hadn’t done television in years. Maybe they’d entice Rhys Goswell who’d just won a Golden Globe for playing a neuro-diverse superhero. Or perhaps they’d go the other way, plucking some unknown from obscurity, giving them the break they’d long dreamed of.

  ‘Don’t worry, babes. The replacement is even better than Bradley. Now, let’s talk about the game,’ said Meagan waving a tub of ice cream at Simi. ‘I brought your favourite.’

  Simi’s eyes widened, ‘Wait, you know who it is? Spill!’

  Meagan set down the tub and took a breath, looking back and forth between Simi and Jemima.

  ‘So… they’re rewriting Cameron Christiansen’s part. She’s replacing Bradley – which is great.’

  Simi blinked at Meagan as her brain tried to process this new information. ‘But… so… there’ll be scenes of a sexual nature… as a prostitute… with a lady… woman?’

  ‘On some level, yes, exactly but apart from that, everything’s the same,’ Meagan said popping the lid on the ice cream. ‘This is that fancy stuff you have to leave out for—’

  ‘The SAME?!’ screeched Simi.

  ‘Can you pass me the mixed herbs?’ Jemima asked.

  Momentarily distracted, Simi rooted in the cupboard. She handed a jar to Jemima who stirred her Bolognese sauce, clearly electing to sit this conversation out.

  ‘Honestly, Sim. It’s not a big deal,’ said Meagan, hands on hips.

  ‘Then why didn’t you tell me?!’

  ‘Because I knew you’d freak out,’ Meagan carped.

  ‘I’m not freaking out, it’s just, I haven’t even done… stuff with a girl in real life let alone on set, in front of a crew!’

  ‘Well maybe you should get some practice, in case you get the job!’ Meagan winked.

  ‘Meag!’ Simi wailed.

  Of course this was no big deal to someone as uninhibited as Meagan but for Simi it was. She wasn’t sure she was ready for scenes of sexual nature – with anyone.

  ‘Honestly, I don’t know what all the fuss is about. May I remind you, kissing a girl feels just like kissing a boy – just less scratchy. I went lez for my first six months of tech college,’ declared Meagan.

  ‘It’s not about that—’ Simi protested.

  ‘And secondly,’ Meagan continued, with a silencing finger, ‘there’s nothing wrong with being a prostitute.’

  ‘Please don’t tell us that’s what you did with the last six months of college,’ said Jemima.

  ‘Alright, keep cooking, Ainsley,’ said Meagan. ‘Look, Sim, you’re overthinking it. Once you’re skin-to-skin, it’s like belly buttons. Everyone’s just an innie or an outie. Plus, don’t forget, Jodie Foster played a prostitute and she got an Oscar nom. Big picture, babes. And now you’re back in the saddle, you can audition again. Speaking of which, I’ve snagged you a humdinger of a casting this Friday.’

  ‘The saddle? My foot’s barely in the stirrup! May I remind you, I am a cuckquean,’ Simi said.

  ‘See,’ said Meagan, ‘you already sound medieval.’

  Simi grimaced. This was typical Meagan, just barrelling ahead. Simi wanted to believe Meagan knew best but she was growing tired of it.

  ‘Shouldn’t you… check with me first? It feels like stuff just happens without me knowing,’ said Simi.

  ‘Like when?’ Meagan asked folding her arms.

  ‘Like when you changed my casting age to 17 and I got called in to play a sixth former. I was 30!’

  Jemima stifled a giggle as Simi recalled her abject humiliation.

  ‘What can I say, black don’t crack!’ said Meagan as though playing the statement to a crowd bigger than just Jemima and Simi.

  ‘All I’m saying is, shouldn’t this be more of a democracy than… a… a dictatorship?’

  Meagan’s mood shifted and right away, Simi wanted to backtrack.

  ‘I mean, you’re not Pol Pot, It’s just…’ she said, her toes curling up inside her trainers.

  ‘Paul who? The guy who won Britain’s Got Talent?’ said Meagan. ‘Listen, Sim, I’m grafting my arse off here. The acting game, it’s not like comedy. Everything takes ages so sometimes I cut a couple of corners. That’s how I get the job done but I’m trying my best coz you’re my girl,’ Meagan said pulling Simi in for a bear hug.

  Simi’s cheeks warmed and she was instantly disarmed. My girl. Those words meant a lot.

  In the marathon to make it to the top, Simi was leagues behind Meagan’s other clients. In fact, she was lucky to still be on her books. The least she could do was stop griping and turn up to a few auditions.

  ‘Sorry, Meag. You’re right. It’s fine.’

  ‘Sweet, now can we discuss this dating mad ting or what?’ Meagan laughed.

  ‘Double yes!’ Simi said, clapping as Jemima carried on stirring her sauce.

  Chapter 15

  Meagan

  ‘I just don’t think the best place to play this game is a gelateria,’ said Jemima folding her arms.

  ‘Just say ice cream shop and stop being such a ponce,’ Meagan tutted.

  It didn’t matter where they were, they just needed to get going, she huffed. Once they had, Simi could start to forget about Oscar and Meagan could start drip-feeding news of her dating escapades to Todd so that he would calm the hell down with his unrequited love-in.

  ‘What’s wrong with this place, Jem?’ Simi asked, jabbing a spoon into her cookie dough gelato.

  �
��There’re children here!’ Jemima blurted, gesturing around her.

  ‘So? We’re not about to hump a bloke on the counter!’ Meagan gassed. ‘This isn’t about finding someone to go IKEA shopping with! This is just practice.’

  ‘Well, either we’ll get dates or get arrested for cradle snatching. Actually, rule number six. No breaking the law,’ Jemima declared.

  ‘I’m gonna break something in a minute,’ said Meagan slapping her hand. ‘Enough with the moaning, Jem. For real. If you’re gonna do this, you can’t be moaning the whole time. You’re giving me tinnitus.’

  Meagan looked around the West End shop and its bustling Saturday afternoon crowd. This place was fine. No one knew them, it was busy and there were plenty of men. Granted a lot of them looked like they were on a gap year but what did that matter. After the woeful display at Ripley’s this was exactly what they needed – a safe place for a trial run.

  Jemima sighed. ‘Believe it or not, I’m fine about the game, I just hoped we’d be approaching people who were of voting age and how come this place is so busy? It’s freezing outside.’

  ‘You know what it’s like, teenagers and northerners never feel the cold,’ said Meagan.

  She clapped her hands together. It was time to put into practice what they’d come up with at Jemima’s a few nights earlier over wine and a pretty decent spag bol.

  ‘Okay, Simi, you go first. You’re going to find someone for Jemima. Think about who she is and what she needs. Not what she wants,’ Meagan cautioned, ‘what she needs.’

  Simi thought for a second. ‘Well, for a start he’s got to be anally retentive about recycling and correcting the grammar on takeaway menus.’

  ‘I did that once!’ Jemima said raising her hands in defence.

  Meagan laughed, scanning the room. She spotted a young guy in thick, dark-framed glasses having an animated discussion with his friends and gave Simi the nod.

  ‘Him,’ she said cocking her head his way.

  ‘He looks about 12 years old!’ said Jemima.

  ‘I’d say early twenties,’ Simi said, squinting.

  ‘He’s got a skateboard,’ Jemima hissed.

  Meagan craned to look. ‘Environmentally friendly transportation. Right up your street!’

  ‘I mean, I know this is a trial run but I could actually see you together,’ said Simi.

  ‘Simi!’ said Jemima.

  ‘I know, I know. Okay, here I go.’

  Simi pushed her chair back, sights locked on the target.

  ‘And remember, Sim, it’s all about psychology with men,’ said Meagan. ‘They’re a wolf pack.’

  ‘But at Jem’s you said they were monkeys,’ Simi replied, her nose wrinkled in confusion.

  ‘Both,’ Meagan confirmed. ‘You train them like a monkey and they hunt like a wolf.’

  ‘And they have good memories, like elephants?’ Simi said helpfully.

  Meagan rolled her eyes. This was like an arse kicking contest between two one-legged idiots.

  ‘Just go,’ she said shoving Simi towards the bespectacled skateboarder.

  Meagan watched her leave before turning back to Jemima. ‘So, spill the tea. What’s new?’

  ‘Oh, you know, writing and more writing,’ Jemima said stirring the dregs of her melting gelato.

  ‘I dunno how you do it,’ said Meagan. ‘Days, weeks and months on the same project. I’d go mad. Comedy’s quick. In and out. Done.’

  ‘Well, generally speaking, I love it. It’s just, at the moment I’ve hit a bit of a brick wall.’

  ‘Writer’s block or something?’ asked Meagan.

  Jemima took a spoonful of her melting ice cream. ‘It’s this whole romance thing my editor was going on about.’

  ‘Oh yeah. You want me to do something about her?’ said Meagan who was still waiting for the nod from Simi to take care of Oscar’s red-haired harlot.

  She’d even brought her Super Soaker to work just in case.

  ‘No, Meagan. Jeez, you’re like a bloody mob boss. She just wants more romance in the book and I’m finding it hard to write, that’s all,’ said Jemima.

  Meagan looked at her friend, the demands of her job clearly weighing on her.

  ‘You know why you’re finding it hard, babes? Coz you haven’t had any romance since Rapa Nui,’ Meagan said, her attention caught by Simi who was in a lively exchange about skateboards with Jemima’s potential date.

  ‘Don’t call him that,’ said Jemima.

  ‘I’m sorry but Miles is the spit of those Easter Island statues. His head is massive. Completely disproportionate to his body,’ said Meagan.

  ‘It’s not just about Miles,’ Jemima snapped.

  Meagan stopped. ‘Well what is it?’ she said side-stepping Jemima’s irritation.

  ‘Sorry,’ Jemima said, shifting in her seat. ‘It’s just, I’ve got less than a month to finish this book and… I’ve been searching for a solution. The thing is, I… I was wondering how you would feel about me using—’

  Just then a loud crash reverberated around the gelateria. Meagan and Jemima turned to see Simi face down in the lap of a middle-aged couple as a skateboard trundled to a halt by the shop entrance. Simi tried to detangle herself, only to get more wrapped up in the folds of the woman’s dress. After finally working herself free, she picked up the skateboard and wordlessly returned it to its owner before dashing back to Meagan and Jemima. The sound of teenage laughter echoed around them.

  ‘We have to leave!’ Simi said, barely containing her abject embarrassment.

  Jemima and Meagan needed no further instructions. They gathered up their things and scurried from the scene of the crime only slowing once they’d reached the tube station.

  ‘You were literally face down in that woman’s lap!’ Meagan shrieked, hardly able to breathe she was laughing so much.

  Jemima collapsed in peals of laughter at the image.

  ‘I mean I thought you might crash and burn, but not like that!’ Meagan wheezed.

  ‘What were you thinking, darling? Skateboarding indoors – on tiles?’ Jemima said, battling to stem her laughter.

  ‘He said it had slow wheels!’ said Simi as the girls dashed into Leicester Square tube station, zigzagging around the weekend tourists congregating in the ticket hall.

  Jemima pulled out a handful of tissues and dutifully cleaned the creamy gloop from Simi’s neck.

  ‘Well, that was a disaster,’ said Simi as she checked behind her ears for any last remaining gelato.

  ‘And you know why, right?’ said Meagan.

  ‘Please, don’t mention the skateboarding again!’

  ‘Because you were pretending to be like him. You’re 35. You don’t skateboard. Don’t pretend you do,’ said Meagan.

  ‘Then what should I have done?’

  Meagan sighed. There was more to this dating game than she’d imagined but she’d never had to deconstruct her technique before. She wasn’t even sure what she did that worked or what the girls did that didn’t. So far they’d had three wipe outs. She’d had the only score – with Gil. Meagan thought back to when she’d approached him. The first thing she recalled was smiling. As a sufferer of resting bitch face, that was compulsory so as not to terrify strangers. She’d been confident but polite, after all she was interrupting his night. He could equally have just won the lottery or lost his job. She remembered touching his arm to get his attention. They always seemed to like that. Their conversation had been brief – an introduction, a compliment and then she’d gone straight to discussing Jemima. She’d spoken about her as though she were highly prized, an exclusive opportunity he’d be a fool to pass up. And most importantly, Meagan had been willing to walk away.

  She turned to the others who were staring at her, awaiting the guru’s wisdom.

  ‘You’re not gonna like it,’ she said.

  ‘We don’t stand a chance, do we?’ said Simi.

  ‘Here’s the thing,’ Meagan said. ‘What I did, a hair flick here, a compliment there,
it worked because it’s me.’

  Simi slumped. ‘So we have to be you to do this?’

  ‘No. You have to be you,’ Meagan said.

  ‘Nooooooooooo!’ wailed Simi. ‘That’s what got me into this mess in the first place!’

  Jemima gave Simi a consoling pat.

  It was tough but that was the truth of it. Meagan shrugged. If Simi played the game using her usual tactics – mutating herself into what she thought they wanted, it would be an even bigger shit-show than earlier. They had to be authentic and transparent, get themselves out of the way so the guy could see through them to who they were being hooked up with.

  ‘If you’re a miserable cow, then they’ll think that’s what’s in store for them when they meet us,’ Meagan said nodding Jemima’s way.

  ‘And if you’re desperate, guess what?’ she said, giving Simi a kind smile.

  Simi nodded, mulling over Meagan’s words. Even Jemima appeared to be taking it all in rather than coming up with some snarky comment.

  ‘Right then,’ Jemima puffed, ‘we need more coaching. And if we’re really doing this, we have to talk about the type of guy we’d like to meet – or not meet.’

  Jemima was clearly still smarting from her brief encounter with the copywriting lumberjack, Gil, thought Meagan. It was fair enough. She’d spent the best part of a week batting away his request for a proper date. As commuters swirled around them, Meagan linked arms with Simi and Jemima.

  ‘Okay, but let’s get out of here,’ she said and they headed towards the escalators.

  ‘You start, Meag. What do you want?’ Simi asked as they descended to the platforms.

  Without thinking, Meagan replied, ‘He’s gotta be fit, live north of the river and own a decent car.’

  If she was going to spend two, possibly three hours in someone’s company, plush leather interiors were non-negotiable. Jemima and Simi followed her in silence as they moved through the crowd to some empty seats. They obviously hadn’t considered this at all.

  ‘Come on, Simster, what are you looking for?’

  Simi thought for a second then rummaged in her bag to retrieve a thick, blue notebook stuffed with magazine cuttings and Post-it Notes. Meagan stared down at it. She was wrong. Simi had given this way too much thought.