No Ordinary Bloke

by Mary Whitney

  “Obviously.”

  “Me converting wouldn’t be one of them.”

  Stanley interrupted for a moment to hand me the registries, saying that he couldn’t find one for Annette. That didn’t surprise me. For Tamara, I went straight to the silverware. As Allison and I walked to that section of the store, she asked, “So you’d change religions for someone?”

  “Within reason. I don’t think I’d become one of those American sects that play with snakes and speak in tongues.”

  “So what? Are you agnostic?”

  “Agnostic is the right word I suppose. I see believing in God as insurance for the afterlife that costs me little today.”

  “Very pragmatic of you. What about your kids? Would you pick a religion for them?”

  “Fuck yes.” I nodded. “I’ve thought the idea that you don’t choose a religion for your child so they can pick one is absolute rubbish.”

  “How so? Personally, I wouldn’t leave it up to them, but I can see why others might want to give a kid a choice later.”

  “A choice? There are certain things there are no choices about. Take for example football. If I’m ever lucky enough to have kids, damn straight, they’re going to be Liverpool fans as long as they’re under my roof or getting a dime from me.”

  Allison giggled. “So what if the woman you wanted to marry asked you to convert to Arsenal for them?”

  “Then she is not the woman for me.”

  “You’d forego a lifetime of happiness just for a football team.”

  “If I had to root for Arsenal, it would not be a lifetime of happiness. More like a life of drudgery and arseholes.”

  “I can see this is something you feel passionately about.”

  “Absolutely.” I looked down at the registry and decided that Tamara deserved something better than a breadknife, but not too big. “Let’s see here. She wants silver salt and pepper shakers. Those are always nice.”

  “Her husband can salt his dinner every night and she can think of you.”

  “She wants the Chester set. Do you see them?”

  “Hmm.” She scanned the glass display case. “Oh, they’re right here. They look…” She frowned. “They look different.”

  I took a step closer. “Oh dear. I suppose they’re acorns, but they look like two hairy bollocks.”

  “Bollocks? I thought that meant stupid.”

  “It does. It also means testicles.”

  “Really?” She burst out laughing. “I’m now going to think of testicles every time you say that.”

  “Good God. I hope not Trey’s,” I said slyly. “Probably all saggy and gray haired. Turns my stomach, really.”

  She punched me in the arm. “Now don’t make age jokes about Trey.”

  I smiled because that confirmed that his balls looked like two deflated white balloons. Given my past performance with Candy, I had no room to crack the obvious joke about an old guy’s pecker, but I did anyway. “Lucky for you, they have that little blue pill now.”

  “I am not commenting on my sex life,” she said, crossing her arms. “Except to say there are no blue pills involved.”

  I’d promised myself not to bring up Trey’s infidelities, both because it could backfire horribly on me, but also because I really didn’t have any real proof. I couldn’t help make a little comment though. “No, I daresay given his previous track record, he has no problem in that department.”

  She gave me a sour look for bringing up his past, which she had to know was as colorful as my present. When she didn’t reply, I playfully puffed up my chest. “Much like me.”

  After a snort of laughter, she said, “You really are so bad.”

  “The word is ‘cheeky’, love. We say cheeky over here.”

  “Cheeky? What does that mean?”

  “Teasing. Naughty. Sort of in on your own joke. Something like that.”

  “What about unbelievably conceited about one’s perceived sexual prowess?”

  “That might be found in the psychology books.”

  “With your photo as an example.”

  “Now come now, love.” I looked down into her eyes that I was sure needed an emerald ring to match. “You find me endearing, don’t you?”

  “I find you…” She shook her head. “I find you…” Then finally she sighed, “I find you adorable in every way which is probably why I’m here right now when I should be back at the office.”

  “Adorable? Like a puppy? Good God, I’m off my game, if you only want to pat my head.”

  She lifted her eyes up to the heavens and sighed again. “I said adorable in every way, okay? I think that covers all aspects of a woman’s appreciation of a man.”

  Well, if that wasn’t a bloody roundabout way of admitting she liked me at least a little… I smirked again. “Maybe then you might want to pat my other head as well?”

  “David…” she said in a warning tone.

  “I didn’t say you’d act on it,” I grumbled because this really was a crap situation I’d put myself in. “Every time I see you I wonder what your breasts look like, but I’m not going to feel you up, okay?” Actually, I’d spent enough time studying and wanking to her tits that I bet my vision was close to the real thing. Not too big. Not too small. Probably as ivory as her skin with some wonderful freckles dotting them. Lovely rosy nipples as well. The very thought made me want to…

  Then it happened. I could feel my dick stir. What I couldn’t achieve with Candy while she was groping my trodger, Allison had just assisted in simply by her standing in front of me. I hadn’t even stared at her tits yet. I casually slid the registries over my trousers.

  Allison’s mouth gaped, though luckily, she wasn’t aware of my stiffy. Her voice was cautious. “I think talking about my chest is off-limits.”

  “Never mind then.” I side-eyed her breasts. “It would be a great conversation though. I would have so much to say.”

  Finally, I broke through. A blush appeared on her face so deep it hid some of her freckles. She looked again at the ugly salt and pepper shaker. “Back to shopping. Are you getting this for Tamara?”

  “Sure, why not?” I marked it off the list, hoping she didn’t look at my crotch as I willed it down. “One pair of silver hairy balls. Sort of like Trey.”

  She rolled her eyes. “What about the next girl? I forget her name”

  “Annette. Breadknife for her.”

  “Oh. She must’ve not meant very much.”

  “Actually, I like her a lot. She’s a gem of a girl. I don’t think she wants to make a big deal of her wedding though. I believe you Americans call it a shotgun wedding.”

  “Oh. I feel badly for her.”

  “I do, too.” From personal experience, I feel badly for the kid. As soon as I thought it, it struck me that I wouldn’t mind repeating it aloud. That shocked me. I was quiet for a moment, staring at her while she looked away toward another display case.

  I never talked about my childhood. On the rare occasion, I might say something offhand to Sylvia or Adam. We’d always been so close because our mothers were sisters and best friends. They all knew what happened. We didn’t talk about it, but they knew. There was some comfort Mum and I weren’t carrying it alone. Yet here I was in the middle of fucking Tiffany’s, and I wanted to tell Allison everything. She looked at me and smiled, and I was gutted. I wanted this woman all to myself, and someone else had her—an arse who would never treat her as well as I would.

  Facing the terrible facts I had before me, I asked. “Have you and Trey ever talked about marriage?”

  Her smile slowly faded, and then she seemed to force it back. “Somewhat. We have a different idea about the actual ceremony, so that’s sort of shut down the conversation for now.”

  “Isn’t talking about the ceremony before the engagement a little backwards?”

  “Yeah, but it’s kind of important to me.” There went her smile again. “He mentioned that he always wanted the quintessential New York society wedding. He wan
ts the ceremony at his family’s church, Trinity Wall Street, the reception at The Plaza, and a big announcement in The New York Times.”

  “I’d think many women would dream of that.”

  “Not me. I’d want the justice of the peace or something tiny on the farm.” She shrugged. “I’m a private person. That’s probably why I do well at HR. I don’t talk a lot about myself, and I’m good at keeping secrets.”

  “I am, too.”

  “What about you?” she said, more cheerfully. “If the ladies man David Bates ever settled down, would he want a big to do?”

  “I’d want whatever my bride wanted. Seems like something best left to her. They say, ‘Happy wife, happy life.’ Probably should start from the beginning.”

  “Probably.” She pointed to the registry. “What about Natalie?”

  I scanned the registry. “Let’s get her some silver, too.”

  “Does she get a place setting?”

  “No. More than that.”

  “How about her candlesticks?”

  We found the candlesticks, and Allison recoiled again. “They’re giant palm trees.”

  “Horrible, indeed, but very Natalie. I’ll get a pair.”

  “That has to be like $5,000.”

  “Indeed.”

  “You’re very generous.” Studying them more closely, she grimaced. “$5,000 of ugly.”

  “So if you were to get anything here, what would be your style?”

  “Me?” She looked at the case and pointed to the most discreet and simple salt and pepper shakers that could only be confused for salt and pepper shakers. “That’s more my style.”

  I grinned. “Me too.”

  It only took another five minutes before we were done in the store. I walked her back to her office, and we chatted about London. When we arrived at our building door, I asked, “So can I take you to a proper lunch tomorrow for helping me out this afternoon?”

  “Sure.” She looked away and took a breath, but then looked me in the eye again. “I’ve got more time tomorrow. My meetings end at eleven, and my flight to New York doesn’t leave until the evening. I was going to go shopping beforehand.”

  “Fuck shopping.” I laughed. “We’re going to a pub.”

  The following day I had Allison meet me at the tube station at noon. She rushed as she arrived. “I’m really sorry, but it took a while for me to stow my bags with the doorman at the building.”

  “Nevermind about that,” I said, admiring her figure in her black trousers and short leather jacket. “You look lovely, and you’re here.”

  I gave her a kiss on each cheek, but this time she didn’t object. Instead, she glanced down at my jeans. Her eyes lingered there for a moment, making me wonder if she was checking me out. She soon said, “I see you’re wearing your Friday casual like me today.”

  “I actually worked from home this morning.”

  “So where are we going? Is there a pub around here you like.”

  “Here?” I said, looking around the City streets. “Not so much. We’re taking the tube.”

  “Oh, all right.” As we walked down the stairs and bought her ticket, she peppered me with questions. “Where are we heading?”

  “Some place special.”

  Her expression became stern. “Not your apartment I hope.”

  “No.” I chuckled. “Unfortunately.”

  “Where then?” She laughed.

  “My old neighborhood.”

  “The one you grew up in?”

  “Yup. Leytonstone. Me mum still lives there.”

  “How far away is it?”

  “A bit.”

  “Why aren’t we driving?”

  I shook my head. “I rarely drive to Leytonstone. I don’t like taking my car there.”

  “Why not? Would it get broken into or stolen?”

  “No,” I said with a scowl. “And if it did, I’d beat the sodding bastard within an inch of his life. I’ve got a Tesla. It’s my baby.”

  “So why not then?”

  “I don’t want to be that wanker who comes back to the old neighborhood and shows off his money. I’d rather blend in when I’m there. I only drive if I need to pick up me mum.”

  “You know you’re a really good guy.” Her smile was sweet and appreciative until she shook her head. “Except for the valuing your car over human life. That’s not good, but in general, your heart is in the right place.”

  “Thank you.” I grinned. “I’ll take whatever compliment I can get from you.”

  “Oh you don’t need compliments, especially from me. Your ego is healthy enough.”

  “Everyone needs praise, and hearing it from you is nice.” I led her onto a train opening its doors. “If you were to pay me a compliment today, what might it be?”

  “Look at you brazenly fishing for a compliment. You’re like a fishing cat at the Singapore Zoo.”

  “I’m a friend. You can compliment a friend, and it doesn’t mean much.”

  She pursed her lips, debating what to say. Eventually, she glanced down at my jeans. “Considering I already told you yesterday that I find you adorable in every way, another compliment feels like I’m pushing boundaries of appropriateness.”

  “So you remember you said that?”

  “I do.”

  “I do, too. I hope you don’t take it back.”

  Her gaze was steady before she said, “No. Never.” Her lips then turned up into a smile. “I’ll say this. You look great in those jeans.”

  “Thank you. I like you in leather.”

  She snickered. “And we’ll leave it at that.”

  After the tube ride, I led her to my favorite pub, The Fox and Hound. When we walked in, Robbie, the bartender, was drying a glass when he saw me. He waved with the dishtowel. “Alright, David.” He then took the dishtowel and touched Harvey, the old busboy/maintenance man who’d worked there since Robbie and I were lads. “Look who’s here.”

  Harvey turned around and squinted trying to see who Robbie was talking about. When he spied me, he called out, “Davey Bates! And with a lady friend, nonetheless.”

  I waved to them both. “Evening. Hope you’ve been well.” I ignored the lady friend remark about Allison. I’d already prepared myself for the commentary because it was bound to happen. I’d never brought a girl there before. Allison smiled at the guys and said hello. She didn’t’ seem fazed by it either.

  We sat down, and I handed Allison a menu. “I suggest the fish and chips. That’s what I always get.”

  “Then you order for me.” She pushed the menu back to me. “I trust you.”

  “What do you want to drink? A cider?”

  “No, I’ll have a beer. You pick.”

  “Why haven’t I seen you drink a beer until now?”

  “I drink beer, just not all the time. Is that a problem?”

  “Not at all. I like you even better now that you’ll have a pint with me, though.” I smiled and pointed to the counter. “I’ll go order for us.”

  “Okay,” she said, pulling out her mobile for entertainment.

  When I walked up to the bar, Robbie said in a low voice, “Who’s the pretty bird, and why the fuck is she with you?”

  “She’s an American friend.”

  “Yeah, right,” he said, throwing his towel over his shoulder. “I’m impressed you brought her though. She’s a beauty.”

  “She’s fantastic. Has a wanker boyfriend though.”

  “When has that stopped you before?”

  “It’s stopping me now, mate.” I shook my head. “It’s stopping me now…”

  “You need a drink. What can I get you?”

  After I placed our food order, I came back to the table with our beers. I raised my glass to her. “What shall we toast?”

  “Hrm. The weekend?” she asked, picking up her own glass.

  “Nah.”

  “How about coming home again?”

  “That’s a good one.” I clinked her glass. “To coming home again.�
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  We chatted for a bit and soon the waitress brought our food. Allison pronounced the food delicious, which it was pretty good, but delicious seemed an exaggeration. As we finished eating, she said, “So tell me about your mom. You mention her a lot. Did she grow up here too?”

  “No, but a similar neighborhood. Very working class. A little rough.”

  “What’s she like?”

  “She’s a retired teacher. She’s very smart and funny and always makes the best of things. An eternal optimist. She’s very close with her sister, my Aunt Judith, and since my uncle died, she spends a lot of time up in Cambridge.”

  “So this aunt and uncle are the mother and father of Adam and Sylvia?”

  I nodded, and she took a drink a before asking, “How was that between the sisters? They grow up working class. One marries this aristocrat. The other doesn’t.”

  “Even if me mum resented the situation, she’d never say a word. That’s not her style.”

  “You said she was on you about school though. She must’ve wanted you to get ahead.”

  “She would’ve been happy for me if I was a postman, but early on she noticed I was good at maths, so she pushed me.”

  “I’m impressed. I know this sounds like a stupid girl thing to say, but I wasn’t good at it. I’m much better with words and people.”

  “I learned young. That’s the only reason.”

  “Younger than elementary school?”

  It was a bloody slippery slope I’d created for myself, whether it was conscious or not. In the back of my mind, I knew bringing her to my neighborhood would elicit questions about my growing up. How could it not? Slowly, I opened up to her. “I think I mentioned my dad was a carpenter. I would watch him when I was little. He taught me numbers. You can’t build anything if you don’t know your numbers, fractions, how to add and subtract—that sort of thing.”

  “That’s cool and useful in life in a lot of ways. Could you build something today?”

  “I could build a house if I really wanted to. That’s kind of boring though. I like to make furniture.”

  “Really? Like what?”

  “I bought a new TV a few months ago, so I just made a new console for it. I’ve built just about everything though.”