Three Way

by Daniel Grant

‘Can’t see,’ he replies, not changing the pitch in his voice. I step out of the way. His legs rest on top of the coffee table. Next to them is a plate with toast crumbs and crusts and an empty bottle of Coke. I look at him. His concentration is intense, clicking the buttons on the controller with impressive precision. However, if he walked down Clapham High Road with that face on, I think people would take him for a puppy slayer. He pauses the game and looks up at me.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Just this…’ I say, indicating to him. He glances around.

  ‘What?’

  ‘This look, it’s not…conveying the impression of a successful young businessman.’ Parker looks down at the dressing gown.

  ‘I’m not trying to convey that impression.’

  ‘No I see that but maybe, I dunno. Maybe work might be a good thing?’

  ‘Can’t. Haven’t got any inspiration.’

  ‘Well occasionally getting out of the flat might help that.’ He sighs and tilts his head. I hold up my hands. ‘Okay, okay. Just think there’s more constructive things you could be doing.’

  ‘Thanks dad.’

  ‘Can you save it, I want to show you something,’ I say, going over to my bag. Parker hits save. I pull out a DVD.

  ‘Is this another one of your homemade gay porn films?’

  ‘No, but I think you’re going to enjoy it.’ I reply, ejecting Grand Theft Auto and inserting my DVD.

  ‘This better be good, interrupting my playing time.’ The DVD comes up with a makeshift menu, I take the controller from Parker and hit play.

  Up comes my interview with Lauren. Yes I know it’s a bit creepy but I wanted Parker to see her.

  ‘What do you think?’ I say.

  ‘Fuck me,’ he says, sitting up. ‘Who is she?’

  ‘Her name is Lauren Bates, she’s some hotshot City type. I interviewed her today.’ We hear me asking her the first question.

  ‘Is that your interviewing technique?’

  ‘I wouldn’t exactly call it a technique.’

  ‘Neither would I, you sound like a girl.’

  ‘Thanks mate,’ I reply. We watch Lauren, both suddenly silent.

  ‘She’s very nice. You asked her out yet?’

  ‘No,’ I say. He looks at me, then sighs.

  ‘It’s been six months since Svetla,’ he says.

  ‘I know. I need to try something else.’

  ‘She looks very nice.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I reply. I think about what I say next. ‘She asked for my phone number.’ I look at him for a reaction. A sceptical eyebrow rises upwards.

  ‘Yeah?’ he asks.

  ‘Well, my card.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Don’t say it like that, it’s a good thing.’

  ‘Sure mate. I’m sure she wants you. Deluded fucker,’ he says the last part quietly, as if only to himself.

  ‘At least try and be supportive.’

  ‘I will, as soon as you man up and get back out there.’

  ‘I’m trying,’ I say.

  ‘Do or do not. There is no try. That’s from Empire.’

  ‘Yeah I know genius. What’s for dinner then?’ I ask.

  ‘Whatever you’re cooking,’ he replies.

  ‘Come on,’ I say.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re the chef.’

  ‘I don’t think working at Harvester qualifies me as a chef,’ he says.

  ‘More than me.’

  ‘Alright shit-for-brains, what do you want?’

  ‘Pasta?’ I ask. He thinks for a moment.

  ‘Yeah, alright,’ he replies, standing and picking up the plate and bottle of Coke. He stops to look at Lauren on the screen. ‘She’s got funny ears.’

  ‘No she doesn’t,’ I reply, trying not to sound defensive.

  ‘Like, a bit too small.’ Off my look he then says, ‘I’m just saying.’ He looks at her again. ‘She’s pretty hot though, good luck.’

  ‘Nothing’s going to happen.’

  ‘Not with that attitude it won’t.’ He wanders into the kitchen. I follow.

  ‘I think it’s time to try at the relationship thing again, not just sex,’ I say.

  ‘You think this girl’s just about the sex?’ Parker replies, surveying the culinary choices in the lone cupboard.

  ‘I don’t know. She oozes sex appeal though. When I was in that room, man…it was tense.’

  ‘Wasn’t there a cameraman in there as well?’

  ‘Well yeah, but I think even he felt the sexual tension in there.’

  ‘Because of your homosexual tendencies?’ He finds a frying pan, heats some oil, then starts chopping the onions and mushrooms.

  ‘So you think I should just do it? Ask her out on a date? I’m so crap at stuff like this.’

  ‘Normally people call people up and say something like ‘hey there, fancy going out?’’

  ‘Not when I do it, they don’t.’

  ‘That’s ‘cos you’re an amateur.’

  ‘You’re not making me feel any better.’

  ‘No? Get a counsellor.’

  We watch Top Gear as we eat our pasta. Parker has these trays with a cushion bit on the bottom so it sits on your lap all snug-like. At first I was like, ‘where did you get these from?’ and he said ‘what do you care, they do the job.’ Seemed like a reasonable explanation at the time.

  As I put a large forkful of pasta in my mouth, there’s a knock at the door. I glance at Parker.

  ‘Well it’s not going to be for me,’ he says.

  ‘I bet it’s Tristan or one of his druggie friends,’ I say, putting the tray on the coffee table and standing up. ‘What the fuck Tristan…right in the middle of my fucking dinner!’ I shout. He’d better be overdosing or dying. I walk to the front door and open it. Standing in front of me is Ashley Morgan, another ‘friend’ from school. Except she was, on occasion, more than a friend. It’s complicated, I’ll explain later. My mouth opens. I haven’t seen her for, what…two years? Jesus. Her dark brown hair is long and she has it down. She wears grown up makeup and that lipstick stuff that makes lips look wet. The last time I saw her, she was just starting to go out with this real character (I use that word in the loosest possible way) called Gary. We kept in touch on Facebook and as I’ve said before, we were always…close.

  ‘Ashley?’ I ask, still processing the surprise of seeing her here. She smiles awkwardly.

  ‘Hi Ollie. Sorry to just turn up like this but um…I uhh...’ She looks down.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Long story. Do you mind if I come in?’ she asks.

  ‘Of course,’ I say. My eyes glance downwards and I notice she has a suitcase. A very large suitcase. She steps inside. I hear Parker on his way.

  ‘Who is it?’ Parker says. He appears next to me and stops when he sees Ashley. ‘Oh. What do you want?’ a hostile tone in his voice. Ashley forces a smile.

  ‘Hello Parker. Nice to see you.’

  ‘Well I’d say the same but that would be a lie,’ he replies. I shoot him a frown.

  ‘Can I come in?’ Ashley asks, looking at me.

  ‘No,’ says Parker.

  ‘Yes,’ I counter, turning to Parker. He glares at me, shakes his head and walks back into the living room.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t realise you were living with Parker,’ Ashley says, picking up her suitcase. I go to help her. ‘It’s okay, I’ve got it.’ I’m unconvinced because the suitcase is almost as big as she is. However she drags it inside, scuffing the wall a little as she does so.

  ‘Yeah, we’ve lived here for over two years now.’

  ‘Cool, uh…’ she yanks the case again and gives up as it falls on its side. I go to right it. ‘Don’t worry it’ll be fine there, there’s not much in it.’

  ‘I disagree, looks like everything’s in it,’ I say.

  ‘I mean, nothing of value.’ I nod slowly, she glances away. ‘Nice place.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s small but does the trick. You want a tea or
coffee?’ I ask.

  ‘Tea, if that’s okay?’ We walk into the kitchen and I fill the kettle. She seems so different to how I remember. Almost, nervous.

  ‘Parker still not forgiven me then?’ she says. I shrug.

  ‘Well you did sort of cheat on him.’

  ‘With you, it’s not really cheating though is it?’ This is a bad situation. You want the details now, don’t you? It’s not like that. Me and Parker are best friends, have been since school and Ashley and I have always been…complicated. I thought Parker didn’t give a shit. They had started seeing each other and he just seemed, almost uninterested in her. I remember commenting about it at the time. He just said she was nice and quite good in bed. That was the phrase he used, ‘quite good in bed.’ So when he went to university, me and Ashley picked up where we had left off, which was nearly always somewhere physical. I just thought Parker and Ashley had split up. As it turned out they hadn’t and he was playing it ultra-cool.

  ‘So, what’s going on?’ I ask.

  ‘Get straight to it, I get it,’ she replies, breathing out. ‘I need somewhere to stay. And before you say anything I know…but, I wouldn’t ask if things weren’t desperate.’

  ‘How’d you even find me?’

  ‘Your mum,’ she says, the slightest of smiles on her face. ‘She says hi.’ I nod. ‘She also says a call once in a while wouldn’t kill you, she told me to say that verbatim.’

  ‘That’s great,’ I reply. The kettle boils and I pour the water into the mug.

  ‘Yeah. Look, I’m sorry to just turn up like this…but it wasn’t exactly a well thought out plan.’

  ‘She’s not staying here,’ says Parker, who’s appeared in the doorway, wearing his tatty leather jacket. There’s a slight pause with no one really knowing what to say before Ashley says,

  ‘Parker, come on-’

  ‘No. There’s no room and I know what Ollie’s like, he’ll just say yes. Sorry but I’m not happy about it and I get a say.’

  ‘Hang on, you do get a say but let’s just hear- ’ I say.

  ‘Ollie, she can’t stay here. That’s it. End of discussion. You guys can catch up or whatever but when I get back, she won’t be here.’ He goes to leave, then turns.

  ‘I won’t be back till late, so you have enough time to talk properly, okay?’ he says, turning and walking out of the kitchen.

  ‘Parker…’ Ashley starts to say. I hear a thump as he trips over Ashley’s case. Swearing to himself he opens the door. It slams as he leaves and I hear Tristan shout,

  ‘Can’t you guys close the fucking door quietly? Fuck’s sake.’ I turn to face Ashley.

  ‘Well that went well,’ she says.

  ‘He’ll calm down,’ I reply.

  ‘Maybe this is too complicated,’ she says.

  Ashley and I decide to ditch the flat and talk properly, over a pint. We walk into my local, The Old Cock off Northcote Road. Parker says it makes absolute sense that my local has the word ‘cock’ in its name, what a bellend. I order my usual Guinness, she goes for a glass of Pinot Grigio. The pub is one of those modern gastropub affairs, lots of wooden stools and comfy sofas. We find a spot in the corner and sit down. It’s good to see her again. I’d forgotten how well we get on.

  ‘So, what’s happened?’ I ask. She sighs and sips her glass.

  ‘I split up with my boyfriend. For various reasons. I can’t go back home because I’m not talking to my mum and that’s it. The end.’

  ‘The end? That’s barely the beginning.’

  ‘What?’ she says.

  ‘Come on, just be straight with me. You’re asking to come and live with me, just tell me what’s going on. If me and Parker are going to have a falling out, be good to know the reason.’

  ‘Ollie, Ollie, sensible to the last.’ She’s still smiling but she’s using it as a shield, I’ve seen that smile before. ‘I’ve been with this guy for over a year and he wasn’t the best guy I’ve ever been with.’ My eyebrow rises. ‘He was really creative, really driven but he would sometimes get angry and occasionally lash out.’

  ‘Lash out?’

  ‘Yeah.’ She flicks her hair to the side, showing me the side of her neck which has a deep scratch mark and a bruise that goes up behind her hairline.

  ‘Jesus.’

  ‘Yeah. It’s fine though-’

  ‘It’s not fine.’

  ‘No, I don’t mean it’s fine, just…I’ve left him and I want to move on.’ I look at her, she seems lost. All that confidence and bravado she used to have when we were at school, now suddenly gone. I sigh, quietly.

  ‘I’m not going to beg Ollie, if you can’t you can’t.’

  ‘It’s not that, it’s just…whenever we’re near each other-’

  ‘No sex,’ she interrupts. I stare at her and frown. ‘I promise. Just friends. I need to get my life sorted.’

  ‘When has that ever worked?’

  ‘Seriously, having somewhere to live is more important, and aren’t you with that Swedish girl anyway-’

  ‘We split up,’ I say.

  ‘Oh. Sorry. When?’

  ‘Six months ago but it’s…still a little raw.’

  ‘You never said anything on Facebook.’

  ‘Well I’m not exactly going to announce it. It’s personal.’ She nods slowly, searching my face.

  ‘Shit. Did you love her?’ she asks. I sigh.

  ‘I did. I’m trying not to now.’

  ‘How’s that going?’ she asks.

  ‘Good. Yeah, fine,’ I reply. She pulls a face.

  ‘I can see you’re lying.’

  ‘No I’m not,’ I say.

  ‘This is me, Ollie.’

  ‘Yeah okay.’

  ‘So…what do you think? I promise I won’t get in the way or cause problems.’

  ‘What about Parker? I can’t screw him over.’

  ‘I’ll talk to Parker.’

  ‘Seriously Ash.’

  ‘I am serious. I will make it up to Parker. But you need to say it’s okay.’ I consider her words. I know how this goes but I can’t really tell her to fuck off, can I? She’s in trouble and needs my help. She’s such a massive part of my life. Well, used to be. ‘We’re a good team. My life is a bit of a mess and I just need a little help whilst I put it back together.’

  ‘If you can persuade Parker-’ I start to say.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Then I guess you can stay-’

  ‘Thank you,’ she says, her eyes suddenly watering up. She coughs and looks up, trying to stop herself from crying. ‘I really do appreciate this.’

  ‘Well, I’m sure you’d do the same for me,’ I reply, smiling. She thinks for a moment.

  ‘I would.’

  Thursday. It’s a busy day on the newsdesk. Julie, the normal newsdesk assistant is sick so I end up having to be Paul’s assistant which involves trying to take as much of the workload off him as possible. It’s okay though. You are always the first to know about any developing story on the newsdesk. It’s busy, crazy and occasionally bad for your health, which is why I love it.

  Today’s stories are the usual middle of the running order type affairs. There’s a new treatment for breast cancer, in its early stages, but it might eradicate the disease at some point in the future. There’s a story about house prices rising to near record levels which the business correspondent is doing. And there’s a nice little cutsey wootsey story of a new baby panda born at Edinburgh zoo. So nothing huge to get excited about but that’s the sort of day it’s going to be.

  Annoyingly the phones don’t stop ringing which, when I’m trying to eat my bowl of Corn Flakes, is quite infuriating. With all these distractions around me I’m also finding it difficult to make time to Google ‘Lauren Bates.’ The phone rings once again.

  ‘Newsdesk?’ I say loudly.

  ‘Uh, hello is that the newsdesk?’ I hear an old man’s voice on the end of the phone.

  ‘Yep, how can I help you?’

  ‘The weather
report yesterday was completely wrong, you said there wouldn’t be frost last night and what do I find when I go outside this morning…frozen fucking Begonias.’

  ‘Okay, thank you for your comments sir. Let me just transfer-’

  ‘-and another thing-’ Click. I transfer him to the complaints department. I know it sounds harsh but the newsdesk gets between two hundred and a thousand phone calls a day and I just don’t have time to sit and listen to people’s thoughts on the daytime schedule. I’m an arse, that’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it? Maybe I am. I munch another spoonful of Corn Flakes as I ponder on this.

  ‘Right, I can’t stand it any more, I’m going to have to get a coffee,’ says Paul, ‘want one?’

  ‘Yeah thanks, can I give you some money?’ I reply.

  ‘I’ve got it.’ Paul stands up and heads off. The phone rings, I pick it up.

  ‘Newsdesk.’

  ‘It’s Derek at Scotland Yard. Can I go?’

  ‘Ah Derek, how the devil are you?’ He’s the overnight correspondent. He’s old, stubborn and moany.

  ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘It’s Ollie.’

  ‘Ollie, are you the news editor?’ I love it. I speak to Derek almost every day but when he calls we do this dance like we’ve never spoken.

  ‘No, I’m the assistant.’

  ‘Who’s the news ed?’

  ‘It’s Paul but he’s just away from the desk, let me check with the Morning Show.’ I call over to Carla McCarthy on the Morning Show desk. She decides what goes on air. Under her are a team of overworked, underpaid producers who set up live interviews, cut pictures, write cues and work nights.

  ‘Carla, Derek is asking if he can go?’

  ‘Where is he?’ she asks, frowning.

  ‘Scotland Yard.’

  ‘Can you ask him to do a nine and that can be his last.’

  ‘How does a nine o’clock hit sound Derek?’ I hear a long sigh then a small grumble.

  ‘Yeah fine.’ He hangs up. ‘Thank you for using the TBN newsdesk, you have a nice day now,’ I say, putting the phone down. Carla laughs.

  ‘I take it Derek was ecstatic,’ she says.

  ‘Not entirely, but he’ll do it.’

  ‘Nice of him. It’s only his job afterall.’ My mobile rings, it’s Parker.