by Andi Osho
‘What. Is. That?’ said Jemima planting herself on the other side of Simi to get a better look at the Keanu Reeves collage on the front cover.
‘My cosmic ordering book,’ said Simi as though it were obvious. ‘I’ve had it for years. It’s like the Argos catalogue but it comes from the Universe instead of the stock room at the back.’
She leafed through the pages until she reached the section on partners which was three times denser than the others and brimming with photos.
‘You want the Universe to deliver you Keanu Reeves?’ Jemima asked.
‘What if you’re out when he arrives?’ said Meagan.
‘I guess they’ll leave a card,’ said Jemima, ‘“Sorry, we tried to deliver The One but you were out. We left him with a neighbour.”’
Simi snapped her book shut.
‘You asked us a question but my answer’s not that simple.’
‘Sorry, Sim. Go on,’ Meagan said as though coaxing a hissy cat from under a sofa.
Simi cautiously reopened her book on the relationship section. The pages were thick with notes, lists and collages. It looked more like Simi was on the cusp of discovering time travel than dreaming up her best life.
‘First and foremost,’ Simi began, spreading the pages open, ‘he needs to appreciate the arts, you know, visit galleries, go to the theatre – but not musicals. I’m done with that. It’s a red flag. Oh and he has to love music but his music collection can’t have more than five Best of albums. Maybe he could even be in a band. It’d be great if he worked in the entertainment industry too and was successful, you know, broken the US market – and was famous…’
Meagan went to speak.
‘Oh and I’d like him to have really good hair and he has to be spiritual but not a hippy,’ Simi continued.
After thirty minutes of Simi detailing her perfect man, Meagan had lost the will to live and Jemima didn’t look far off. Fourteen tubes had screeched in and out of the station and the platform guard was starting to eye them suspiciously. Meagan didn’t want to rain on Simi’s parade but this wasn’t cosmic ordering, it was wishful thinking and a far cry from Meagan’s meticulously scheduled plan. Hers was grounded in logic not the position of the planets. She’d be married by her mid-thirties, have all her kids by 40 who’d be in uni by her mid-fifties and then she’d be free. She’d travel more, work less and continue to slay in every way possible. Simi should take a leaf out of her book and put that in her bizarre catalogue, thought Meagan.
‘Simi, you’re basically describing Keanu Reeves,’ Jemima said. ‘Maybe just choose a couple of things to get us started.’
Simi scanned her reams of notes. ‘Spiritual – and the Best of album thing.’
‘Got it,’ said Jemima tapping her temple.
‘What about you, Jem?’ Simi asked.
‘No weirdos,’ Jemima said straight away.
They all nodded. That, they could agree on.
‘Oh, frig! I’m late for my monologue class,’ said Simi looking over at the platform clock.
She snapped her book shut and gave the girls a goodbye cuddle.
‘Tell them there was a late-running skateboard.’ Meagan grinned.
‘Funny. So, what are you two going to do with the rest of your day?’ Simi asked.
‘You mean who!’ Meagan winked.
Simi pulled out of their hug.
‘Sorry, Meag, but no side pieces. That’s got to be rule number seven. You need to get rid of Todd,’ Simi reprimanded.
‘What? Why?’ Meagan spluttered over the roar of another incoming tube.
Giving up sex so she could date was like giving up chocolate to eat more fruit. It was ridiculous.
‘Because if you’ve got a backup, you’re not invested,’ Simi explained crossing her arms.
Jemima rubbed Meagan’s arm. ‘I’m sure you can survive one month without Todd the Rod.’
‘How am I supposed to make him jeal— I mean, how will Todd know to back off if he doesn’t know I’m seeing other people?’ Meagan said.
‘I think, if you stop seeing him, he’ll get the message you’re not seeing him,’ said Jemima.
Meagan scowled.
‘I’m not seeing him and if my vajayjay heals up because of this, there will be consequences. Thanks for ruining my afternoon, Simi,’ Meagan griped.
‘It’ll be good for you!’ said Simi before blowing them a kiss and heading off to her class.
Meagan slumped against the tiled wall, glowering at weekend shoppers and tourists bustling around her.
‘Fancy a drink at mine?’ said Jemima.
‘Well, seeing as I’m not going to be getting any, might as well,’ Meagan moaned.
Jemima laughed and linked arms with Meagan as they hopped onto the next train. But Meagan was not laughing. No sex with Todd… for a whole month. She made a mental note to buy a large pack of batteries on the way home.
‘So, did you know about Simi’s… book?’ Jemima said over the beep of the closing doors.
‘I did,’ said Meagan, slowly pulling herself from her funk. ‘Did you see the Terry pages?’
‘Yeah, what was that about? There were more pictures of him than Keanu.’
‘Did I ever tell you about the time Simi stalked a guy at college…?’ Meagan said.
Chapter 16
Jemima
It was an hour since Meagan had left but Jemima was still sitting by her open window waiting for her bedroom to stop spinning. Whilst Meagan’s hollow legs enabled her to drink like a rugby player, Jemima had reached her upper limit way sooner. As she forced down one more gulp of water before bed, her mind was working overtime. All day she’d been deliberating over her book but Meagan’s recollection of Simi’s college obsession had unwittingly thrown Jemima a lifeline. She was intrigued by what Beverly might be like if she had the same compulsive past. Jemima closed her window and pulled out her notebook, scribbling down what she could remember. She winced at the thought of Terry sitting Simi down, asking her to leave him alone. That must have been mortifying but the fact that he’d brought along a witness… Ouch. Ideas cascaded as Jemima then imagined a young, innocent Beverly back in college, deeply in love with a boy who would never reciprocate. She envisioned the secret love letters Beverly would write but never send, her desires, her vulnerability. How, Jemima wondered, had Meagan got Simi to confess such personal information? This had never once come up in the ten years she’d known Simi. Jemima knew how. Meagan had an unnerving ability to extract information – from anyone. Jemima paused. That trait was ideal for her increasingly complex heroine. Also, what if, just like Meagan with Parker, Beverly had loved once but never again, now burying her vulnerability under a tough veneer? The tipping point for Meagan had been when Parker had decided to stay with his wife. She’d been utterly crushed and, when she recovered, a new Meagan had risen up from the ashes – a Meagan with a plan, a Meagan who relied on no one, a Meagan who was brittle…
‘Oh my god,’ Jemima whispered.
Hadn’t that been the exact word Eve had used to describe what Beverly had become? Jemima was onto something. More info on Parker would help galvanise this, setting up how her leading lady had become the woman she is today. But, thought Jemima, that intensity would now have to be offset with humour. She grinned as she recalled the many quips and stories Meagan had shared over the years. A particular favourite that had left Jemima and Simi howling was how Meagan often described Todd’s manhood as a clenched fist. She’d said going down on him was like ‘being in the ring with Anthony Joshua’, and how after three minutes she’d half-expected to hear a bell. Previously, Beverly had been painfully serious but with this humour she would now be able to laugh at herself in a way Jemima had never allowed her to. A smile spread across her face. Regardless of how unsuccessful they’d been at getting dates, the game itself was proving to be a great vehicle for getting the girls to open up. It was giving Jemima the material she so desperately needed. If they continued, she might even have a chance of
finishing her book within the deadline. Excitement bubbled at the thought of crossing that elusive finish line and handing in a final draft. As inspiration coursed through her, she opened her laptop and began to type.
Paragraph upon Meagan-and-Parker-inspired paragraph flowed onto the page. Still on a roll, she then switched and began detailing Beverly’s college obsession. This was great material. As she wrote, an image of a young, insecure and deeply in love Simi jostled its way into her mind and her face fell. If Simi read this, she might feel humiliated all over again. Jemima hit delete. That story would never go in the book and if she used other stories, it had to be with the girl’s go-ahead. Her attempt to broach the subject at the gelateria had been seriously hampered by Simi faceplanting into that woman’s lap. Nonetheless, Jemima had to ask and soon. The girls loved her and wouldn’t want her book to fail. She might have to do some convincing but she would get them onside in the end.
As she put away her laptop, her phone pinged. It was one in the morning. Either it was Meagan sending some wildly explicit GIF or… she peered at her phone and her smile waned. It was Miles.
You back?? Would love to buy u lunch Mx
Jemima tapped out a reply.
In LA. Sorry!
She flung her phone back onto the night stand, wishing she was in LA. The idea of an ocean separating her and Miles was a dream. As she wriggled under her duvet, she wondered, had she always opted for flight whenever her back was against the wall? Staring up at her ceiling, Jemima thought of all the ways her mother constantly tried to protect her from extremes of emotions. Her earliest memory was when she was just 5 years old. They were visiting her grandmother’s house and they passed a police cordon. A man had fallen from a fire escape. His body lay in the street covered by a grubby blanket as police took statements and onlookers gathered. A curious little girl with no knowledge of life and death, Jemima had wanted to look. However, the moment her mother had seen the flashing red and blue lights she’d covered Jemima’s eyes and led her on an extra twenty-minute walk around the block to reach their destination. Even when they were out of view of the fallen man, her mother had kept Jemima’s eyes closed, her feet barely touching the ground until they reached her grandmother’s doorstep. Jemima had always seen her flight instincts as moving towards something, not running away but now she wondered, were her LA fantasies really about a fresh start or was she just looking for the long way around – again?
Jemima pulled her mac collar up around her ears as she paced down the street. The sunshine was intrusively joyful for a head still woozy from a night of wine and gossip with Meagan. Her sole mission that morning: a decent coffee. She hadn’t been into Nostromo since her dousing from Chance and she was now literally craving an Azi latte. Half-awake and unshowered, she had decided to make her stealthy reconnaissance while it was still early and, hopefully, quiet.
‘Hey, Az. My usual – to go. Cheers,’ said Jemima, darting a furtive glance around the shop.
‘Wow! You look like poop!’ laughed Azi, as she glugged milk into her steamer jug.
‘Thank you!’ said Jemima, pulling her coat even more snugly around her.
If Azi thought she looked crappy now, imagine if she discovered she still had a pyjama top on.
‘Forgive my wife,’ Rania said with a roll of her eyes, topping up the pastries.
‘She knows what I mean. She’s so bloody gorgeous normally, with that beautiful skin. And she never ages. What are you? Seventy, seventy-five, eighty?’ Azi asked.
‘Alright, more coffee, less back-handed compliments,’ laughed Jemima.
Behind her the pshhhp of the door made her turn automatically. Her jaw clenched. It was Chance. Azi plonked Jemima’s to-go cup in front of her and Jemima snapped it up, her grin fixed in place. Of all the people to run into looking like this, her head pounding like there was a dress rehearsal of Stomp! going on in there, it had to be him.
‘Hey,’ he said with a broad smile, ‘I saw you walk in from my window and I… did you get my message?’
‘Message?’ asked Jemima.
‘Well, if you came in as often as you used to…’ scolded Azi.
‘I’ve been working,’ gabbled Jemima.
‘This is where you work!’ said Azi, flailing her hands at Jemima’s window seat.
Jemima felt her pulse increase. She hadn’t visualised a specific worst case scenario when she’d set out this morning, but this was a good place holder.
‘Azi,’ said Rania with her usual, calming tone.
Azi puffed out her cheeks. ‘Fine. I have a message. Chance is looking for you.’
She winked coyly which Jemima made a concerted effort to ignore. This was awkward enough without Azi playing some kind of percolated matchmaker. And why was he leaving messages for her anyway? She hoped it wasn’t to chat about Pete’s book. That was still in her hand luggage – unread.
‘What’s up? Jemima asked, hiding her concern.
‘I was thinking about your romantic predicament – with your book.’ Chance paused, clearing his throat. Jemima rearranged her coat as her discomfort increased.
‘Umm… Pete’s publisher invited him to a big book reading this Thursday but he’s delayed his trip to London so he asked if I wanted to go and then I thought, maybe you’d like to come?’
And just when Jemima thought things had reached peak-awkwardness.
She knew exactly whose book was being read because she had the same publisher as Pete and had been invited to the same thing, Descend into The Cave: A happening with Xandria Bishop. The pompous event name alone had made her bristle when she’d received the invite from Eve.
‘It’s a bit of a weird book. Kind of a romance hybrid thing but I thought it could give you some inspiration?’ said Chance.
Jemima tried to unscrunch her face. It was sweet of him but this was going to be a hard pass for a kabillion reasons.
‘That’s very kind of you but—’ began Jemima.
‘She’d love to go.’ Azi beamed at the two of them.
Jemima stared back at her. What the actual hell?
‘Jem, I haven’t seen you writing for days. This will be good for you,’ said Azi glaring at Jemima, whose toes were curling into a foot fist.
‘Okay. Great,’ she mumbled at last.
‘Good!’ said Azi, slapping the counter and disappearing into the backroom.
Chance turned to Jemima, laughing. ‘So, meet you there at seven?’
‘Yes! Seven’s great!’ hollered Azi before Jemima could reconsider, renege or runaway.
‘Great,’ said Chance.
Jemima nodded, tight lipped. ‘Yup. Great!’
‘You’re welcome, guys! You’re so very welcome,’ said Azi.
Chapter 17
Simi
Simi took in her surroundings, bewildered yet intrigued. Instead of Jemima’s swanky pick, Ripley’s, where they’d made their first attempt at the game the week before, tonight they were in Bar Dodgem – chosen by Meagan. Simi looked around the rough-and-ready Shoreditch basement bar, still trying to make sense of its strange, fairground vibe. Unlike Ripley’s, there were no waiters in pointless half-aprons, no fancy wine lists or flickering tealights. The venue was awash with a murky, pink glow and the staff were so hipstery, the whole place smelt of beard oil. But the weirdest thing was the seating: painted rocking horses. Simi looked over at Jemima who was still trying to calibrate the canter of her bright green steed. At least she was finally on a horse. Initially she’d refused, instead leaning against it like an angry jockey. Meanwhile, beside them, Meagan was at full gallop having a heated call with one of her contractors. Simi’s impatience grew. This was their first proper attempt at the game since her skateboarding calamity. Instead of watching Meagan verbally dismantle her builder, she wanted to get started. She needed to purge memories of Oscar and his deception and feel love, real love because life without it felt – horrible. Just then she noticed Jemima lean over to hand her a tissue. She was crying again, and she’d thought she w
as doing so well.
‘Thanks, Jem,’ she said choking down the sadness.
‘Don’t be hard on yourself. It hasn’t even been a fortnight.’
Simi gripped her hand, its warmth filling her up from her hand to her heart. She looked over at Meagan who had missed her mini-meltdown.
‘Glenn, if you don’t finish the partitioning this week I’m gonna chew your balls like I’m on a I’m a Celeb bushtucker trial!’ Meagan blared, forcefully rocking her horse back and forth.
Simi took a sip of her cocktail pretending not to listen. Poor Glenn. He was finding out the hard way, you don’t let Meagan down. She held everyone to such high standards but often you only found out you had fallen short when you got the tongue lashing of your life. And though Meagan seemed oblivious, Simi knew, like the plan, it had all started with Parker. Meagan was so young when she met him, just 18. The whole thing had been so messy that when Parker told Meagan he was leaving his wife, Simi had actually been relieved. At least he was making a decision. But what was supposed to happen after a month, turned into six then a year until Meagan accepted it was never going to happen and ended it. Simi and Jemima had put their loving arms around her until the pain, at long last, released her. After though, Meagan was never the same. She never mentioned him. It was as though she’d airlifted him from her memories. The effect of him, however, lingered. Whenever there was even an inkling of being let down, this beast arose from within ready to tear off someone’s head – or more often, their balls. There was always a Glenn, some poor sap who had failed and found themselves torched by the flames of Meagan’s rage.
‘Got it? Good!’ said Meagan hanging up before he could respond.
The inferno abated, she breezily sipped her cocktail, ‘So, what do you think of this place?’
Simi gave Jemima a bewildered look. Just like that, Meagan’s fury had calmed to warm embers.