by Andi Osho
‘This is a nice spot to write, eh?’ he said.
‘Yeah, can get a bit noisy,’ said Jemima throwing a discreet but shady eye behind her, just managing to catch a glimpse of Chance’s date.
Jemima noted her long red hair, not ginger but dyed red, like a stop sign. She was younger than Chance, perhaps mid-twenties. Her eyeliner looked like she’d put it on three days ago and her hand-painted Doc Martens were almost completely covered by her frayed flares. Jemima smiled politely in her direction. The woman tutted and went back to her tea.
‘Yeah. I go to our… that park when I want a bit of quiet,’ he said.
‘Yeah…’ said Jemima as the two of them smiled clumsily.
‘So, despite me almost scuppering your writing with demonically bad book readings, has Beverly found love?’ Chance asked.
‘Sort of.’ Jemima shrugged, wanting to say more but knowing now was not the time.
Chance nodded.
‘So… I’m having drinks at my practice next Thursday. Kind of a fundraiser thing. Swing by if you’re free,’ he said.
‘Well, if I’m not busy. You know, writing and everything,’ said Jemima shuffling on the spot.
‘Sure… Course. Oh, listen, about the other day. The whole date thing. We cool?’ he laughed with a silly grimace.
Jemima tilted her head. What was with the face? Was it such a strange proposition to date her?
‘Totally cool. I mean, as if we’d date,’ Jemima said as she slipped her laptop into its case. ‘I mean, riiight? And anyway…’
Jemima threw a look back at Chance’s companion. He followed her gaze.
‘No, I meant—’ said Chance but Jemima already had her coat on.
‘You’re already… whatever and I mean, as if we’d have been a match. Ptttth,’ she scoffed.
‘Right… As if… Well, I’d better get on…’ he said, thumbing in the direction of the crimson-haired foghorn.
‘Yeah, me too,’ said Jemima before bundling towards the door in the hope it led straight to the gangplank of an LA-bound flight.
Outside, her cheeks felt scorched. Well, that was another name to add to the growing list of reasons to relocate to California. She quickly turned towards home but as she passed Nostromo’s window she couldn’t resist taking one last peek. She watched Chance’s date embrace him. They held each other for a long time, her head buried in his neck. Eventually they sat. His date grabbed his hand, yanking it towards her, staring into his eyes. Though Jemima couldn’t see Chance’s face she imagined him mirroring her intensity. Good for them, she exhaled. She pulled out her phone and stared at her last text.
Let me know when ur back. Could go for lunch? Mx
Though she wasn’t ready to sit face to face with Miles and chat over bruschetta as though nothing had happened, there was no point pretending he was an unknown caller either. Well done, Miles, she murmured as she opened up her contacts list and typed in, M.i.l.e.s. C.o.n.r.o.y. As always, he’d managed to wiggle his way in, like a splinter under the skin. Yes, he was a jerk but there was something reassuring about the familiarity. Jemima’s fingers tapped the SAVE button. She put the phone back in her pocket and took one final look at Chance before marching home. Not bothered, not bothered, not bothered at all, she declared.
Chapter 25
Meagan
Meagan cupped her hand around her phone, making sure Glenn the contractor, was out of earshot. He’d already been privy to far too many of her private calls.
‘Todd, I’ve got this refurb on lockdown. Back off,’ Meagan hissed into her phone.
This whole keeping-Todd-at-arm’s-length thing was proving harder than she thought.
‘I don’t get you. Who couldn’t use a spare pair of hands?’
‘The only thing I want your hands to do isn’t allowed because… say it with me, Todd,’ Meagan toned like a kindergarten teacher.
‘Because you’re playing this silly dating game. Fine but don’t come running to me when you need someone to paint into the top corners of the room,’ he scoffed.
‘Have you heard of ladders? Bye, Todd,’ said Meagan hanging up.
Meagan kissed her teeth long and hard. She had this sorted and if she did need assistance, of all the people she was going to draft in, her fuck buddy was the last of them. She glowered at the open doorway of her office as Glenn whistled tunelessly in the other room. She’d selected her door three weeks ago yet was still staring at the insufferable drape Glenn had hung in its place. Where was her door, why did everything take so long and what was Glenn whistling?
‘Glenn,’ she growled, unable to take the noise any longer.
The trill warbling stopped and Glenn poked his head into the room.
‘Don’t you normally head off around now?’ Meagan enquired.
‘My pilates class isn’t for another hour so I thought I’d redo the gloss work.’
His head vanished and the whistling started again, louder than before.
Meagan gritted her teeth as she conceded, Glenn’s extended tenure might be slightly her fault. It hadn’t dawned on her that scheduling the flooring people on the same day as the gloss work was a page one, schoolgirl error. Glenn’s oh deary, deary, me-ing had felt like nails on a chalkboard. So she’d made a mistake. That didn’t mean she needed a knight in shining armour. She was her own cavalry and always had been. The sooner people got that, the easier life would be for everyone. Sure, it would have been nice to see Todd, mainly because she missed the sex but the refurb first aid, the flowers, the chocolates and heart emojis, she did not need or want. What happened to the cursory ‘hi’ followed by a frantic quickie? One time they’d got down to it so fast it was only afterwards she realised she still had her handbag on her shoulder. That’s what she missed. As Glenn’s whistling scored into her soul, Meagan decided it was time to call it a night. Her manicure was scheduled for six thirty and that was the only painting she was interested in. And after, she would meet the girls and play another round of their daft dating game. She shut down her computer and headed out.
Simi had chosen tonight’s location and Meagan had known it was going to be something bizarre. She looked over at the other two who were still lacing up their boots.
‘Isn’t ice skating more of a coupley thing?’ she asked.
Simi shrugged as she tightened her scarf around her neck.
‘What’s up, Simi, you getting cold feet?’ Jemima laughed, nudging her.
‘Blimey, were you someone’s granddad in a former life?’ said Meagan rolling her eyes. ‘What’s the matter, Simster? Me and Jem are gonna find you another quality fella.’
‘Yeah…’ said Simi looking towards the rink.
Jemima scanned the crowd. ‘Looks like we might reel in a catch here.’
Meagan tried not to laugh as she watched Jemima do a seated shimmy to the loud dance music spilling from the rink outside. It usually took so much alcohol to get Jemima dancing it wasn’t cost effective. Simi continued to tie her laces, barely having spoken since they’d arrived.
‘Come on, Sim. Spit it out,’ Meagan said, folding her arms.
Simi looked back out at the rink. ‘I don’t want to play the game anymore.’
Thank God! thought Meagan who was becoming convinced the gains were not worth the pains for any of them. She threw a ‘finally’ roll of her eyes to Jemima who would probably be even more delighted about this than she was. The whole experience seemed to be causing her actual physical pain.
‘Well, if you’re sure!’ said Meagan as she clomped towards the rink. ‘They’re serving free glühwein. Let’s get a glass or ten before they run out!’
‘Wait a minute. It’s only been a couple of weeks,’ said Jemima wobbling to her feet.
‘What?’ snapped Meagan.
Even if Jemima was opening up to meeting someone, no way was this her preferred method.
‘Thing is, I only broke up with Oscar two weeks ago,’ reasoned Simi, ‘and plus, if I’m going to meet someone I should speak to him
myself – start believing in my choices.’
‘And who told you to do that?’ asked Meagan.
Simi opened and closed her mouth. ‘I… just… me.’
Meagan’s eyes narrowed. This had Oprah written all over it. Listening to your inner she-wolf and thinking for yourself was fine for everyone else but when Simi did it, it always led to trouble. And guess who had to come to the rescue: Meagan.
‘I trust your decisions! I’d never have met these guys without you,’ Jemima implored.
‘But you hated Lance,’ said Simi.
‘But I loved what I learned.’
‘Really?’ said Simi.
‘Definitely. They say the thinking that got you into a problem can’t get you out of it so that’s why I need you guys. New thinking. Your thinking. You and Meag,’ said Jemima, taking Simi’s hand.
‘But, I – don’t we need to trust our instincts, make our own choices?’
‘No, Sim, we need each other,’ Jemima said shuffling closer to her. ‘Have you noticed how a three-legged stool never wobbles?’
‘I suppose.’ Simi nodded. ‘Yeah… I’d never thought of that.’
‘Well, just like that, we need each other for this to work,’ said Jemima.
‘You’re sooo right. We are a massive stool!’ said Simi.
‘Well, I wouldn’t put it quite like that… but yeah!’ Jemima said putting her arms around Simi.
Meagan looked on as they hugged. In all the years she’d known her, Jemima had never gushed over relationships not even when she’d been in one. She wanted to play the game yet talking about her love life made her snappy and weird. Something didn’t add up.
‘Let’s just give it one more go,’ Jemima said clasping Simi’s hand, ‘and if you really don’t want to carry on, we’ll call it a day.’
Simi wavered.
‘Come on, Sim. You set tonight up. Now we’re here, we might as well go for it!’ said Jemima.
‘Okay, one more go!’ Simi said. ‘Come on, Meag.’
‘Great!’ said Jemima slapping her thighs and standing.
Simi stood too and Meagan watched them clomp towards the rink.
Great, Meagan huffed.
Out on the ice, Jemima and Simi tentatively slid forward. It was just after nine and the rink was buzzing. Strips of lights pulsed to dance music blaring from speakers. Around the periphery, groups of friends whizzed by, their skating confidence lubricated by the free glühwein. Ahead of her Meagan watched as Simi and Jemima, hand in hand, slowly teetered along. As they rocked back and forth, clamping hold of each other to keep their balance, she softened. Like she always said, yes they were idiots, but they were her idiots. She glided in behind them.
‘If you hold on to each other, you’ll take each other down if you fall,’ she said.
‘That’s the point!’ shrieked Simi as she stumbled, instinctively reaching for Meagan and Jemima.
‘Simi!’ howled Jemima as all three of them collapsed to the floor in a giggling heap.
‘I’m sorry!’ Simi said as she battled to stand while cackling with laughter.
Meagan clambered to her feet and manoeuvred herself in front of them. She jammed her skate against Simi’s, gripping her arms as she tried to yank her back to standing.
‘Need a hand?’
Meagan turned to see the out-stretched hand of a tall, black and deliciously handsome man.
‘We’re good,’ she said before turning back to Simi and heaving her to her feet.
‘Meagan,’ mouthed Simi, ‘he’s gorgeous!’
‘Shhh!’ said Meagan before looking back at the man, ‘Unless you’ve got a winch, we’re fine.’
‘No worries,’ he said, smiling.
He hesitated for a moment then glided off to re-join his friends.
‘He was hot!’ Simi grinned.
‘Whatever,’ Meagan said as she surreptitiously scanned the crowd for him.
He was hot. If she had a type, he would be it. Tall obviously. A narrow face with neat stubble. Designer clothes. Tick, tick, tick. His flaw, however, was that he probably wanted to be another knight in shining armour and that was a hard no.
‘You two looked good together,’ said Jemima as she gripped the side of the rink.
‘He looks like drama,’ said Meagan before skating away.
‘Everyone’s drama. We just have to decide who’s worth it,’ Simi said tottering behind Meagan before easing into a wobbly glide.
The girls skated for a while with Meagan leading the way and after a few circuits they started to gain their confidence.
‘Meagan, can we talk about my audition…’ Simi began.
‘Yeah, man,’ said Meagan. ‘My notes must have worked coz you’re still in the running.’
‘I… I am?’ Simi stammered.
‘Yaaass, queen. You’re welcome,’ Meagan said, enjoying the moment.
Despite script reading being a massive ball-ache, Meagan had managed to skim-read the Clash of the Crown episode Simi had auditioned for. From the get-go she could see it was missing laughs. Even intense dramas need comic relief. Lucky Meagan had steered Simi towards injecting some much-needed comedy. If she got it right, not only would Simi be a shoe-in for the role but the producers would probably realise their mistake and write in more gags.
‘Come on, guys,’ said Jemima. ‘We’ve only got thirty minutes before the next session starts. These dates aren’t going to arrange themselves!’
Meagan eyed Jemima. Something was definitely odd.
‘She really is into this,’ Simi said gleefully.
‘Yeah…’ said Meagan as she watched Jemima scope the rink for Simi’s potential date.
‘So,’ said Simi quietly, ‘you know what you have to do when you look for Jem, right?’
‘What?’ said Meagan, still watching Jemima.
‘Meag! We talked about this. Our list. Smart, funny, good looking, loves books, makes puns, generous, kind, keeps his feet on the ground and most importantly…’
‘Makes Jemima want to do the same. Yeah, yeah I know. And after we’ll turn water into wine and feed the five thousand,’ said Meagan.
‘It’s not that hard. And what’s the point of all this if we don’t find people that make our lives better, add value? She just needs someone with roots who’ll make her want to stay put. Got it?’ said Simi.
‘Yeah, yeah. Got it. I’ve got to find Jemima a funny tree,’ said Meagan.
Chapter 26
Jemima
Jemima leaned back on the rink barrier to take a breather. After two embarrassing wipeouts and just as she was about to give up, she had finally found Mo, Simi’s next date. She watched Simi wave coquettishly across the rink at him. Jemima was pleased and from the way Simi was slathering in his direction, she was too.
‘You seriously don’t know who he is?!’ Simi whispered so loudly she may as well have put it on a sandwich board.
Jemima shrugged. She was so bad at celeb spotting she’d once spent a whole tube ride talking to an ex-Blue Peter presenter thinking they’d gone to school together.
‘He’s just landed the lead in the new Black Panthers comedy, Blacklash. It’s gonna be huge. I can’t believe you didn’t recognise him!’ said Simi.
Jemima took another glance at Mo. Nope – she had no clue who he was.
‘Mmmm. Six foot two inches of mixed-race gorgeousness,’ Meagan said, sneaking a peek. ‘I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but next time, Jemini, I want you to find my date!’
Jemima laughed. Maybe she was starting to get the hang of this.
The girls looked on as Mo bantered with his friends, his bluey-white teeth giving him that dazzling smile you only ever saw in Hollywood… and Essex.
‘Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, this is AMAZING. He’s exactly what we talked about. He’s in the biz. He’s successful and he is hot as a mother monster!’ trilled Simi.
‘You bagged a good ’un, Jem,’ Meagan said winking at her.
‘And I’m gonna get you s
omeone even better, Meag,’ said Simi leaning against the side scrutinising every skater that whizzed past.
‘Well, go on then,’ said Jemima tapping her watch. ‘They’re not going to come to you.’
‘Oh… yes… they… are… HEY!’ Simi yelled at a passing skater.
As she hollered, the helpful stranger from earlier skidded to a halt and Simi zigzagged over.
‘Well played, Simster. Well played,’ said Meagan with a conceding nod.
Jemima watched as Simi, after a brief chat with her target, beckoned Meagan over. Why was Meagan so drawn to tall men? Even when she was in heels they towered over her like the Shard. As Jemima pondered, a very excited Simi and less enthused Meagan made their way back over.
‘He’s a nerd,’ Meagan said.
‘He owns a tech company and his name’s AJ,’ enthused Simi.
‘He hasn’t even got a full name and he’s barely six foot,’ griped Meagan.
‘And you’re five four – in your heels,’ said Simi.
‘Plus he doesn’t drink. Where’s he gonna take me, a library?’
‘Well I think you’re going to have a lovely time,’ said Jemima poking Meagan.
‘With my teetotal midget. I’ll give it an hour,’ she said.
As the girls continued to rib Meagan, the ice rink speakers crackled to life.
‘Skaters – You have ten more minutes. I repeat, ten more minutes to GET YOUR SKATE ON!’ And with that the music ramped up several decibels.
‘I’ll get the job done in eight.’ Meagan grinned as she skated off at speed.
‘I’m gonna go for a victory lap,’ said Simi, attempting a twirl. ‘You’ll be okay?’
‘I’ll be right here, waiting for Meag to drag over my prey,’ smirked Jemima.
Simi gave her a stern look.
‘Sorry, my prize, my prince even!’
Satisfied, Simi wobbled off to re-join the stream of skaters.
As Jemima leaned against the sidings she felt her phone vibrate. She pulled it from her pocket and peered at her screen. It was an email from her LA pal, Rebecca. The title read: House Swap. Interested??? Jemima’s pulse quickened as she clicked open the message and read. Rebecca was relocating to London and, as the title suggested, was looking for a house swap. Jemima swiped through the attached photos. She was almost breathless at the images of Rebecca’s apartment which looked just as beautiful and bright as she remembered.