Three Way

by Daniel Grant

  ‘Right,’ I say.

  ‘This is my younger sister, Joanne, my other sister, whose room you slept in is over at a friend’s,’ Nicola says. ‘Joanne, this is Ollie.’

  ‘They’ve already met,’ Ashley says. Everyone cracks up. I nod. Even Joanne laughs, although I’m not sure she knows why.

  ‘That’s just great,’ I say.

  Thursday. Lauren and I have agreed to have dinner at hers tonight. Quite excited, haven’t seen her place yet. Bet it’s amazing. I start wondering what the bed looks like and whether we’ll end up using it for non-sleep purposes. However, all that is at least ten hours away. I’m running late and every train that comes into Clapham Junction is rammed. I hate queuing to get on a train when I’ve already paid an obscene amount just for the privilege of standing under some stranger’s armpit. London bloody transport.

  I transfer onto the Northern Line at Waterloo and again, have to stand. My iPod is about the only thing that keeps me sane on these sorts of days. I stand against the Perspex and glance down at the woman sitting next to where I stand. She’s thumbing through her diary but quickly comes to rest on a page. I look at the entries.

  14th September - cut hedge row.

  15th September – take John to rugby. Boring. Then another entry grabs my attention.

  16th September - nothing written.

  17th September – Ken’s birthday – blow job. I blink then immediately smile. I glance at the woman, she’s no looker for sure but Ken is about to get very lucky. The train pulls into Goodge Street and I step off, my mood much improved by the possibilities for Ken’s birthday.

  As soon as I get in Paul asks me to try and find an address for a radical Islamic preacher who has just managed to get bail. He’s thought to be living somewhere in South London.

  ‘Can you see if you can track him down? There’s a crew for you when you’re ready,’ Paul says.

  ‘Sure,’ I reply. I log in and get to work. Using the various funky programs and ultra-modern tools we have, I manage to find out shit all. In the end, I ask Paul if I can just go out with the camera crew and chance it. Sometimes you get lucky. Me and a cameraman called Rooney start searching South London for a radical preacher located in a safe house somewhere. Not an impossible task but I think lowering expectations in such a quest is advisable. We drive around endless residential streets looking for any sign of police protective detail or two constipated guys sitting in a car outside a house with a flask of coffee and a box of doughnuts. Unfortunately we spot nothing even close.

  Two hours later, we’ve reached the end of the road and the end of my shift. I decide to call it a day. I call Paul to tell him we’ve had no luck. He’s disappointed but says he isn’t surprised. Thanking me, he lets me go home. I jump on the tube and change onto the Victoria line. Pimlico only takes ten minutes and before I know it I’m walking down Lauren’s street. She lives in a posh neighbourhood.

  Her place is a white Georgian terrace. Large bay windows jut out next to the front door. I walk up the steps and knock. I hear movement, the door opens and there she is. She’s gone all out, wearing a beautiful long red dress, shoulders exposed. Her hair is straight and she wears just the right amount of makeup, subtle and restrained.

  ‘Hi,’ I say, breathing in as I take in the sight. She smiles.

  ‘Hi, nice to see you,’ she replies.

  ‘You look beautiful.’

  ‘Thanks, come in,’ she says, turning away from me and heading up the stairs. I close the door and follow her up. I hear the mellow tones of Birdy in the background. Her flat is nicely decked out. Neutral colours, high ceilings and a good finish. The kitchen is modern and looks expensive. The lounge has plenty of light coming through those big windows and there are two tall bookshelves on either side of a grand fireplace. Vases of flowers are dotted about the place and she’s lit some candles.

  ‘Champagne?’ she asks, turning to face me with a bottle of Don Perignon in her hand.

  ‘Sure,’ I say. Blimey, I could get used to going out with a rich girl.

  ‘Can you do the honours? I’ll just check on the food,’ she says.

  ‘Yep,’ I reply, taking the bottle from her. I unwrap the cork and pop it open, pouring the Champagne into two long-stemmed glasses. I nearly screw it up by pouring too fast, a little spills over the top. I really do need more practice doing this. I guess, if Lauren and I are going to be a permanent item it’s something I’ll get better at with time. I check to see if she’s still in the kitchen and wait for the bubbles to go down. She walks back in and takes the glass I offer her.

  ‘Cheers,’ I say.

  ‘Cheers,’ she replies. We clink glasses and take a sip. It tastes like liquid money.

  ‘So what are we celebrating? Apart from you being with me, of course,’ I say, a vague attempt at humour. She smiles then assumes a serious face quickly.

  ‘Well, uh…shall we sit down?’ she says, gesturing to the sofa.

  ‘Yeah.’

  We relocate to the sofa and place our glasses on the table in front of us. Not sure why but I feel like something is wrong. I look at her, she isn’t saying anything and looks uncomfortable. Would she offer me Champagne then dump me? Pretty cold.

  ‘Ollie, we need to talk about something,’ she says. Holy crap, she is dumping me. Who the hell does that? Who opens a bottle of Don Perignon and then tells her boyfriend/shag to get lost? That is so twisted I might have to-

  ‘Right,’ I say, interrupting my thought process. I’m nervous now, anxious at what she will say.

  ‘I’ve got a new job,’ she says. I blink, that’s not what I was expecting. She isn’t dumping me, that’s definitely a positive. I breathe out, realising I’d barely been breathing at all.

  ‘Oh right, that’s great. Congratul-’

  ‘It’s in New York.’ Ah.

  ‘Oh.’ Silence. I glance at her, she stares at me for a reaction. I blink, trying to process all the implications of this bombshell. She touches my hand.

  ‘I know this isn’t what you want to hear and to be honest I don’t really want to go but it’s quite a big promotion and it will only be for a couple of years-’

  ‘A couple of years?’ I repeat, still trying to take it in.

  ‘I know you’re not going to be happy about it.’

  ‘Why would I be happy? I mean, I’m glad you’ve got a new job and all that but, I dunno. I thought we were going somewhere.’

  ‘We were. But, we haven’t exactly been going out for that long,’ she says. I note her use of the past tense there.

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Look, I’m disappointed too. But I can’t pass this up. United is huge over there, I would be just below board level. It’s a massive opportunity.’

  ‘Okay. So, we’re breaking up then?’

  ‘Hang on. I don’t go until October, still plenty of time to see each other,’ she says. I nod, miserable. ‘Also I was thinking, and don’t freak out when I say this…you could, maybe…come with me?’

  ‘What? To New York?’

  ‘Yeah. You could get a job at one of the American TV networks, we could find a big apartment to live in. Even if you had trouble finding a job, you could still stay with me. I earn a fair bit and you could come out, see how it goes? I know it’s fast and I haven’t thought through all the implications but…sorry, what do you think?’ Live in New York? With a girl I barely know. I thought this was just another date, now it’s turned into this, whatever you call this. ‘It doesn’t have to be the end, Ollie.’ She stares at me, scanning for any reaction. I feel numb and strangely more upset than I would have expected. I thought we had something here. I know I’ve been a bit all over the place with Svetla but I thought Lauren would be the one to pull me out of that. I thought we’d end up together. Even if I never phrased it like that in my head, that’s sort of where I figured we were heading. And now she hits me with this. ‘Talk to me,’ she says.

  ‘I don’t know. What do you want me to say?’ I reply.

&nb
sp; ‘Just be honest, tell me what you think.’

  ‘This is…I don’t know. I like you. A lot. Maybe more than I was even admitting to myself but I can’t go to New York. My friends are here. My life is here.’

  ‘It’s a five hour plane journey. You can come back whenever you want, on me,’ she replies. I sigh and stand up, walking over to the window. The sun is setting, its orange light glows everywhere. Magic hour, beautiful.

  ‘I don’t know if I want to rely on you for money,’ I say.

  ‘I understand. Okay, don’t go anywhere, I just need to check on the food,’ she replies. I nod slowly and watch her leave. I turn back to the window and stare out. What the hell? I’ve been quite relaxed about Lauren until now. I don’t want her to leave. Why can’t she just stay here? Could I live in New York? My immediate reaction is absolutely not. Can’t up sticks and leave everything I’ve worked for. I’m fairly young, I guess I could do it for a couple of years. As she says, New York is only five hours away. But what about my flat, all that saving up to finally buy my own place and I’d…what, sell it? Rent it out? I don’t know what to do. I down the rest of the Champagne and pour myself another glass. Lauren appears at the door and walks over to stand behind me. She puts her arms around my chest, holding me tight.

  ‘I’m sorry. I know this sucks. But do you understand at least why I’m doing it?’

  ‘I do,’ I reply. I want to say more but I can’t slot the words into the right order.

  ‘Like I said, it’s not until October, we’ve got a couple of months,’ she says. I nod slowly. She releases me and walks around me, rubbing my back as she goes. We face each other. I can barely look her in the eye. I feel let down, disappointed. Fucked. She smiles at me. Her beautiful smile. I’m suddenly overcome with emotion. What the hell is the matter with me? This was supposed to be just an intermediary thing, until The One came along. Don’t tell me all this time, Lauren was The One and I missed it completely. That would be just like me. She was right under my nose and I was too busy looking at Svetla to notice. Exactly as Martina said in South Africa. ‘Hey. This is a celebration even if it is bittersweet. So, let’s celebrate.’

  She takes my glass from me and places it on the table. She leans in and kisses me, I close my eyes, savouring her taste, her smell. I try to imprint this moment into my mind. Remember this. Remember her. I feel her hands move over my groin. She rubs and kneads. I feel myself become hard. Our kisses become more urgent, passionate. The sensation whips around my head. The conflict inside me is intense but soon, the urges take over and we’re having sex on the sofa. Our bodies so close. As close as you can be with someone. Lauren Bates, who was there all along. Until right now.

  ‘What’s the matter with you?’ Ashley asks when I walk into the flat the next day. She sits with her legs tucked under her bum, watching daytime TV.

  ‘Nothing,’ I reply. Although what I really mean is everything.

  ‘Yeah? You look like you’re going to kill someone.’

  ‘This is my face, Ash. When I relax all my facial muscles this is what it looks like, okay?’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘What are you doing?’ I ask.

  ‘Taking a break.’

  ‘A break from what?’ I ask. She shrugs and says something I don’t hear. ‘What?’

  ‘From playing the piano,’ she says. I turn.

  ‘Yeah? You been playing something?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about what you said, and maybe I could try and record some of the stuff I play.’

  ‘You should. You’re good,’ I say, heading into the kitchen. I switch on the kettle and find the tea bags. Ashley appears at the door.

  ‘You see Lauren?’ she asks. I pause and glance down, nodding. ‘Something happen?’ I turn to face her and sigh.

  ‘She’s got a new job,’ I say. Ashley waits, then raises her eyebrows when I don’t say anything else.

  ‘Right? So..?’

  ‘In New York,’ I say.

  ‘Ah. Shit. That sucks.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I say, sighing again.

  ‘What does that mean then?’ she asks.

  ‘I dunno, she wants me to go live with her,’ I say.

  ‘Really? You gonna go?’ she asks. I look at her then over to the window.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Hey, come on,’ she says, stepping towards me. She puts her arms around me. Feels good. ‘Just have to work out if she’s worth it. Is that what you want to do? Big thing, moving to another country.’

  ‘I just don’t think I can. And it’s not like we’ve been going out for very long. It’s a bit too soon for this sort of stuff.’

  ‘Do you love her?’ Ashley asks. I consider the question. Do I love her? I can’t possibly love someone after such a short amount of time. I was begging Svetla to have me back only a few days ago, how can I possibly be in love with Lauren?

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘You need to let this sit. Can’t make any decisions yet. When does she go?’

  ‘Not until October.’

  ‘Right, well that’s like two months away. You’ve got a bit of time. Maybe things will change, anything could happen. She could get fired,’ she says, smiling. She’s trying to make me feel better and I appreciate it, but it doesn’t change the sinking feeling in my stomach. I finish making the tea.

  ‘So…you want to hear my song? I’m not saying it will cheer you up or anything but…’ she asks. I smile.

  ‘Sure,’ I reply. Why not, can’t make me feel any worse. Maybe this will take my mind off it all.

  I grab my cup of tea and we walk into Parker’s room. I sit on his bed and she takes a seat at the piano. She switches it on and plays a couple of notes to check it’s working.

  ‘Okay, so just remember this is really rough and I haven’t quite got the lyrics right yet.’

  ‘Sure,’ I say.

  ‘Okay,’ she says. I hear the nerves in her voice. She starts to play, a slow melancholy song. I watch her move with the melody, her eyes close and she starts to sing.

  Where I am

  The place you dwell

  A place for my heart

  The place we died

  The song becomes more stirring, her voice more emotional.

  We lived, we soared

  We died, we fell

  Where I am

  Take my soul

  The lies from your mouth

  The lies

  Those lies

  Were all you had

  That’s where I am

  I’m spellbound, my heart moving with every key she plays. It’s one of the most beautiful pieces of music I’ve ever heard and I’m not over-egging it. I breathe back the emotions that build inside me. My mind flashes to Lauren. Lovely, beautiful Lauren. Don’t go, Lauren.

  Ashley slows right down to note after note, then stops. I swallow, she opens her eyes and turns to me. I close my mouth and shake my head, trying to find something appropriate to say.

  ‘Jesus, Ash.’

  ‘You hate it, don’t you? I can see you hate it.’

  ‘I don’t hate it. It’s one of the most beautiful pieces of music I’ve ever heard,’ I say, still in mild shock.

  ‘Shut up,’ she says, smiling.

  ‘I’m serious. That was absolutely amazing,’ I say, grabbing her arm. She looks at my hand then at me.

  ‘Really?’ she says with a raised eyebrow.

  ‘Yeah. You seriously don’t know how good that was?’

  ‘I’m just…playing around.’

  ‘Fuck me Ashley. If that’s you just playing around, I can’t imagine what it’ll be like when you really put your all into it.’

  ‘Are you being serious, because you’re starting to get my hopes up?’

  ‘I wouldn’t joke about something like this. You need to get this recorded and burned onto a CD. I’ll help you.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Have you got any other songs?’

  ‘Of course, loads,’ she replies.
She really has no idea how much talent she has. And to think she was a barmaid last week. My friend is going to be a superstar. At least one of us has it figured out.

  I sit at my laptop trying to burn Ashley’s songs onto a CD. The bloody program is being an arse and won’t do what I need it to. This should be so easy, so why is it turning into such a mare? My mobile rings, I glance at the display. Lauren. I answer it.

  ‘Hi,’ I say.

  ‘Hi,’ she says. She sounds upset.

  ‘You okay?’

  ‘Yeah, you know, just…having trouble with this job thing. You?’

  ‘Yeah, me too.’

  ‘I have to go. I can’t not go,’ she says.

  ‘I know. I get it. It’s just, sad.’

  ‘Yeah,’ she says. Silence on the other end of the phone. I swallow. God, this is so bloody tragic. Maybe I should take charge, end it now. I can’t, I don’t want to. ‘What are you doing now?’ she asks.

  ‘Nothing, just burning a CD. Or trying to.’

  ‘Can I come over?’

  ‘Sure, that’d be nice. Ashley’s here.’

  ‘That’s okay. I’ll be over in an hour or so.’

  ‘Cool, see you then,’ I say, hanging up. I stand and walk into the living room. Ashley sits on the sofa, a cup of tea in her hand.

  ‘Did you get it burned?’ Ashley asks, sipping her tea.

  ‘No, still messing about with it. Lauren’s coming over.’

  ‘Oh. Do you want me to go out?’

  ‘No, it’s cool. We’ll just go to my room,’ I say, sitting down on the sofa next to her.

  ‘You’re really upset about her, aren’t you?’ she says. I look up and shake my head. ‘Oh Ollie,’ she puts her cup down and wraps her arm around me, giving me a hug. Why am I being such a fucking girl? What the hell is the matter with me? I’m not crying by the way because that would be really crap. But I’ll admit I’m a little emotional.

  ‘If I hadn’t spent so long worrying about Svetla and actually paid attention to Lauren, I mean properly paid attention, maybe-’

  ‘She’d still be going to New York,’ says Ashley.

  ‘Yeah. Right.’

  ‘But you’re right, sometimes the person you love is right there in front of you,’ she says.