Drive Me Crazy

by Portia MacIntosh

  I slowly make my way to a nearby bench and sit down, exhaling as deeply as I can without being sick again. I hear a rustling noise, before I notice a little packet of ginger biscuits sliding towards me along the bench. I look up to see Danny, waving a white serviette at me.

  ‘Been sick?’ he asks.

  ‘Yes,’ I reply, quietly.

  ‘Eat those, they’ll help,’ he tells me. ‘And don’t dangle over the side like that lass is doing – that’s why she’s throwing up. Focus on the horizon. It’s the only thing that isn’t moving.’

  I do as he instructs, looking at the horizon as I nibble on one of the biscuits.

  ‘I went on this fishing trip,’ Danny tells me, sitting down next to me, leaning back with his hands behind his head. In his tight-fitting, muscle-hugging, JLS-esque neck T-shirt, the bulging of his biceps temporarily catches my eye, but this is something I hopefully do subtly. ‘We had this little stove below deck. It was my turn to make dinner, so I was heating up this tinned chilli – my culinary skills far surpass what I was capable on the boat, just so you know.’ He laughs. ‘It was a particularly rough evening at sea – cold too – so I was down there cooking, shut in this little room, the boat bouncing around on the water like a beach ball, and then the smell of the food… It filled the room, filled my lungs. I hadn’t suffered a second of seasickness until I caught a whiff of that food and I felt like I was going to die. I made my way to the deck to get some air, did exactly as the skipper told me, and it soon passed. I’ll never forget that feeling through. Horrible.’

  As I nibble my biscuits and alternate focusing on the horizon with focusing on Danny’s arms/story, I realise that I don’t feel quite so shocking any more. I don’t feel great, but I don’t feel like I want to throw myself overboard either.

  ‘Thank you,’ I tell him sincerely.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ he replies. ‘Anyway, we need to sort you out before you get back in the Love Bug. I can’t have you throwing up in my woman.’

  ‘Charming,’ I reply.

  Danny rummages around in his pocket and pulls out a folded-up piece of paper.

  ‘Let’s see what the boss’s anal list dictates we do when we get off the boat,’ he says. ‘He a planner, our Mr Starr, isn’t he?’

  I nod. I suppose you have to be when you’re living a secret double life. The devil is in the details, and it’s the little discrepancies in your story that catch you out. Like, I don’t know, how you can suddenly have a prematurely born baby with another woman when you’ve supposedly been in a committed relationship with someone for a year. You know, little things like that.

  ‘First up, we check into the hotel,’ he tells me. ‘It’s not too far from the depot, so we can clean you up a little then head straight over.’

  Danny laughs at the state of me.

  ‘Thanks,’ I reply sarcastically.

  ‘Are we not cutting it a bit fine?’ Danny asks. ‘It’ll be close to closing time when we get there.’

  ‘It won’t take long,’ I tell him. The truth is that we had no intention of calling in to the depot tonight. Will was going poke his head around the door in the morning, before we hit the road early to head to Newcastle. That way we could get settled and have some fun. That’s the problem with pretending you’re on a business trip – you have to pretend you’re doing business.

  ‘So, what exactly do you have to do when we visit these places, and why exactly did you think something so boring would convince me to stay with the firm full-time?’ he asks.

  Very difficult questions to answer without the truth, aren’t they?

  ‘Just look in, touch base, show everyone that the big boss thinks of them – that kind of thing.’

  ‘So we can say hi and then go off and have fun?’ he asks. ‘Is that why you invited me? So we can use it as an excuse to slack off from work and have a laugh?’

  ‘No,’ I reply, a little too quickly.

  ‘Didn’t think that sounded like you,’ he admits, like I’m the most boring person he’s ever met. ‘But you want to convince me to stick around?’

  ‘No,’ I reply, again, far too quickly. ‘I didn’t want to get stuck with one of the annoying women from marketing. I used to work in there, and all they talk about is what they bought from IKEA at the weekend and The Undateables and how to braise things. They are not my people.’

  ‘And nerdy IT guys are?’ He laughs.

  ‘No, but you’re preferable.’

  ‘Preferable to chatting about lamps and meat – wow, Candy, you’re killing me with kindness.’

  I shrug my shoulders.

  ‘Because you’re a regular Prince Charming,’ I reply.

  ‘You’re not going to be much fun this week, are you?’

  I don’t give him an answer; I just stare at the horizon.

  ‘You never know,’ he says, ‘you might actually enjoy yourself if you let that hair down.’

  I know that to Danny I probably seem more uptight than ever, but he has no idea what I’m going through. There’s no way I can tell him though. I’ll just have to suffer in silence.

  Chapter 14

  ‘And if you follow Samuel, he’ll carry your bags to your room for you,’ the receptionist chirps.

  ‘Rooms?’ Danny says.

  ‘Sorry?’ the receptionist is confused.

  ‘You mean rooms, right?’ he clarifies.

  ‘No, room,’ she repeats. ‘The booking is for one double room.’

  Danny and I look at each other for a moment. That’s when it occurs to me that of course there’s only one room booked. That’s because Will booked them for the two of us and, wherever we go, there’s only going to be one room booked. I try to think fast, but it probably takes me longer to come up with something than the instant it feels like in my head. If I can just explain away this one instance, I can get in touch with Will and have him sort it, so that tomorrow night there will be two rooms and it won’t seem so obvious.

  ‘There must have been some kind of error with the booking,’ I reason casually. ‘It’s OK, I can just book another one.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but we’re full tonight,’ the receptionist tells me, not sounding like she’s going lose any sleep over it.

  Again, Danny and I look at each other, neither of us knowing what to say.

  ‘Look, don’t worry, we’ll figure something out,’ Danny assures me. ‘Let’s head up, get changed, show our faces at the office so you can do whatever it is you need to do, then we’ll see what other options we have.’

  ‘OK, sure,’ I reply.

  We step into the lift with Samuel, who takes our cases for us. It’s an awkward journey, but a brief one thankfully. As we arrive at our room, Samuel takes us through where everything is. Samuel flicks on the lamp next to the TV, illuminating the room. He gestures towards the double bed – which is neatly made up with floral print sheets – and the pine furniture. The fridge is tucked away, hidden behind a cupboard door under the desk, which Samuel lets us know by simply opening it. He isn’t saying a word, just pointing out that there is indeed furniture in the room.

  Samuel shows us into the bathroom, with its fluffy white robes and squeaky clean, brilliant white facilities. There’s a selection of fancy-looking bath products sitting on the side, which I make plans for the second I clap eyes on them.

  Samuel leaves and Danny pops into the bathroom to freshen up, leaving me alone. I check my phone. Still no word from Will, but I need to sort this hotel problem with him so I’ll have to text him again.

  Me: I need to talk to you. It’s important.

  With the message sent and Danny occupying the bathroom, there’s not much to do but think. Rather than dwell on the epic fail that is my life right now, I take in my surroundings and conclude that hotels are weird.

  It’s uncanny, the way the room tries so desperately to be a ‘home away from home’, and yet that couldn’t be further from the truth. Sure, there’s the pretty furnishings, a TV and – of course, what every home needs
– the kettle and teacups, but it’s all a façade. Like anything, when you look closer, the cracks begin to show. There’s the no smoking signs, the room service menu next to the phone and those anti-suicide locks on the windows that prevent you from opening them wide enough to even reach your hand outside to feel the air.

  If I had come here with Will, I wonder what we’d be doing right now. If his wife hadn’t gone into labour prematurely, I never would’ve known. We’d be here, playing house in this fake home, but our relationship would be just as false as the Monet on the wall above the bed. It might look like the real deal, but it’s nothing but a copy, and a copy is worth nothing.

  ‘Right, bro, I’m ready to go. Get a wriggle on,’ Danny chirps, snapping me from my increasingly depressive thoughts.

  ‘Must you call me that?’ I ask.

  ‘Must you call me that?’ he repeats, mimicking my accent. ‘The way you speak fascinates me.’

  ‘The way I speak fascinates you, pet?’

  ‘Playing the Geordie card – that’s low,’ he says, clearly feigning offence.

  Despite his cheeky, ‘lad culture’ attitude and filthy mouth, I suspect Danny may be way smarter than he lets on sometimes and it scares me – like maybe he’s onto me, knowing exactly what’s going on, knowing everything I’m thinking before I’ve even thought it myself.

  Danny grabs the remote and dives onto the bed, making himself at home.

  I shoot him a look, which he immediately picks up on.

  ‘I’m just getting comfortable while you’re getting ready,’ he explains. ‘Had a quick look for another hotel while I was on the toilet – ’

  ‘Charming,’ I interrupt, but he pays me no attention.

  ‘Everywhere is booked up, so I’ll just sleep in the Love Bug. That’s one woman who never lets me down.’ He laughs.

  For a split second, I wonder whether I should tell him not to be so silly, and to just stay in here with me tonight. So many things occur to me though, like what Will might think if he knew (like that should matter) or that I might suffocate him with a pillow while he sleeps just to end this ordeal (well, he is annoying). He seems happy enough about sleeping in his car – maybe it’s best we leave things that way.

  I close the bathroom door behind me as Danny starts laughing loudly at an episode of SpongeBob SquarePants.

  ‘Hey, Candy,’ he calls loudly so that I can hear it through the door. ‘SpongeBob and Patrick are on a road trip – they’re just like us.’

  The TV may have a volume cap, but there are no such restrictions on the volume of Danny’s laugh, and he cackles wildly as he watches. Meanwhile, I sit on the bathroom floor and allow myself a little designated crying time while no one can see or hear.

  Chapter 15

  If the Isle of Man branch of Starr Haul makes one thing clear, it is that the yellow branding of the company is very much set in stone. This particular branch is the newest addition to the company, but things aren’t just shiny and new, they’re shiny and new and yellow – oh my!

  Like the Manchester branch, this place also has a secretary called Caroline, although unlike Sweet Caroline, Isle of Man Caroline is young, fun and friendly. When she introduced herself to us, she insisted we call her Caz, which suits me just fine because, weirdly, if there is a person I don’t like I have been known to inexplicably dislike others who go by the same name. She has bleached-blonde hair, although it looks like maybe she did it herself because she’s a little orange in patches, and she’s wearing a very stylish blue pencil skirt and white blouse, but she looks entirely uncomfortable in them.

  Every word she says is accompanied by a hand action, like she’s using a kind of sign language that only she understands, and as her arms move around her short sleeves keep revealing a glimpse of a tattoo at the top of her arm – something Danny notices during the rushed tour she is giving us of the warehouse before they shut up shop for the day. If there’s one thing I’m noticing about how this branch of Starr Haul differs to the flagship branch, it’s just how young the workforce is here. It’s like head office is staffed with all the dinosaurs, the ones who were a part of the company when it first opened its doors. With branches like this one popping up, it’s inevitable that when the Manchester lot become extinct, these guys will be taking their places.

  ‘Cool ink,’ Danny tells Caz. ‘Let’s see it properly.’

  We’re standing right in the middle of the warehouse, but Caz obligingly unbuttons her blouse enough to slip out her arm, fully revealing the tattoo that covers almost all of her upper arm and her shoulder. I look closely, trying to take in all of the detail because there’s just so much going on. It’s Alice in Wonderland themed – specifically the Tim Burton take on the classic tale – and I’ve never seen a tattoo with such vivid and beautiful colours. I don’t have any tattoos, but I’m impressed by Caz’s.

  ‘Wow, that’s beautiful work,’ Danny admires. I glance around the warehouse, but no passers-by seem even remotely phased by the fact Caz is hanging out of her top. She couldn’t do this if she worked in Manchester, not with Matt the warehouse wanker at large.

  ‘Where did you get that done?’ Danny asks. ‘America?’

  ‘No, right here! Just down the road, actually. There’s a place – Sami, the guy who works there, is just amazing.’

  ‘Got your tits out again?’ a big, hairy, beardy man asks Caz, although he doesn’t sound surprised.

  ‘Only at the Christmas party – you know that,’ she jokes. ‘Just showing Danny here my ink. Show him yours, show him yours. This is Dowdy, by the way.’

  As we introduce ourselves and exchange how-do-you-dos, Dowdy happily drops his trousers to his ankles, revealing his heavily inked legs. His legs are just the most beautiful showcase of different games: board games like Snakes and Ladders, Cluedo and Mouse Trap on one leg, and then the other has a Rubix Cube, Lego, a Slinky and countless little toy soldiers performing a variety of military manoeuvres across his skin.

  ‘I got one on my cock as well – had it done in Amsterdam,’ Dowdy tells us, although thankfully he doesn’t show us that one.

  ‘Mate, Amsterdam is awesome,’ Danny enthuses. ‘I went there while I was travelling, and we’d heard about this coffee shop where they have a cat that is just permanently stoned…so, the first thing we do off the ferry, we go to check out this stoned cat, right? Anyway, turns out it’d died.’

  ‘That’s so sad,’ Caz says, tipping her head to one side.

  ‘I’m actually thinking of adding to my tattoos,’ Danny says, whipping his shirt off. Suddenly I’m the only person fully clothed, and like a Jimmy Eat World video, I feel like the weird one. I only have a second to feel weird before I am captivated by the sight of Danny with his shirt off. Nerds don’t have bodies like that. OK, maybe I expected him to have one impressive bicep on his dominant side (if y’know what I’m getting at) and maybe strong thumbs from playing too much Call of Duty, but he looks like he works out. A lot. With very heavy weights. If this were ancient Greece, they’d be making sculptures of him.

  I know that I’m staring, but it’s hard to look away. The only man I ever see without a shirt on is Will, and even when he was younger and fitter, I’m sure he wasn’t this hot. I remind myself that, as sexy as Danny may seem, he is annoying and insulting and unstable. I try to focus on his various tattoos as he talks Caz through them. I don’t know if he’s shutting me out for this newer, shinier, blonder blonde, or if he just assumes I won’t be interested, but I find myself moving closer to him, trying to prove to him that I am interested in his ink and not as boring as he thinks I am.

  ‘This one, I had done in LA,’ he says, pulling down the waistband of his boxer shorts. Across the bottom of his stomach is the line ‘Put your drawers on, and take your gun off’. ‘I lost a bet,’ he explains. ‘It’s a quote from The Good, The Bad and The Ugly – my favourite film.’

  ‘I love that,’ Caz says, leaning in close for a look.

  ‘Fantastic,’ Dowdy agrees.

&n
bsp; ‘My ribcage.’ Danny lifts his arm and twists his body for us to see. This one is weird. It’s like you can see his ribcage through his skin, but rather than the usual organs you would expect to see hiding behind the bones, there are all kinds of creatures that look like they’re trying to break their way out. It is weirdly disgusting, but oddly captivating to stare at. ‘A guy in London did that one for me. You wouldn’t believe how many hours it took – easily the most painful. And my back.’ Danny turns around and stretches out his arms to make a T shape, showing us his biggest tattoo: a pair of angel wings that start at the centre of his back and stretch out down the backs of his arms. It’s something that I could never have imagined looking good, but across Danny’s muscular back, it just suits.

  ‘Protesting too much.’ He turns around again and chuckles, his cheeky smile with those dreamy dimples lighting up the room.

  ‘Wow,’ I can’t help but say. ‘I wish I had the guts to have something like that done.’ The three of them stare at me, none of them considering for a second that I might be being sincere. I realise that the cool kids are talking, and shut up.

  ‘We’re clocking off any minute, then we’re having a work do tonight,’ Caz tells us. ‘We get pretty wild. You guys should come.’

  I see Danny’s eyes light up for a second, excited by the invitation of a wild night out with wild Caz and the wild team, but then his face falls.

  ‘I don’t think Candy will be up for it,’ he says, visibly disappointed.

  Caz and Dowdy stare at me.

  ‘I’ll get an early night, but you can go,’ I tell him, and I mean it. To be honest, I’d much rather go back to my room, on my own, jump in the bath and then eat room service and watch TV. It would actually delight me to be shut of Danny for a few hours, especially if he’s in one of his ‘fun’ moods.

  ‘It’s cool,’ Danny tells her. ‘Thanks for the invite though.’

  There’s a loud clatter from the far corner of the warehouse, so Caz excuses herself to go and see what’s going on, closely followed by Dowdy.