by Emily James
“I am not whiny! I have a serious injury and can barely walk. Not that you would know for all the sympathy it’s gotten me.”
“I did warn you she’d be whiny. When she had her tonsils out, she moved in with me. Joanie has a lower pain threshold than my two-year-old. Thanks for taking care of her. Have you eaten?”
I explain that we have, and Melinda turns into a tornado, dusting and cleaning and making fresh coffee. As she sips her own coffee, she chats and sends texts and emails. Then, she puts my laundry in the machine and appears in the lounge, holding my phone.
“What was this doing in your laundry basket?” she asks.
Six eyes the device carefully and then looks at me with a grin spreading across his face.
“Well, you see, I um...” I try to explain, but my mind is consumed by the knowledge that there is a very naked picture of a very hot Six on that phone. Thank God it wasn’t washed clean.
“It was very dirty, wasn’t it, Four? Filthy, even. Wouldn’t you say?” Six says looking from me to the phone.
I bite my lip and close my eyes. It’s as if wherever Six is, my humiliation is not far behind.
“You two are weird,” Melinda says, putting my phone on the coffee table.
Six takes the phone, presses a few buttons, handing it to me and quietly, just to me, with a waggle of his eyebrows, says, “In case you miss me or you need something sexy to look at. I’ve added my phone number.” Then he calls out for Melinda’s benefit, “I’m going to head into work if you guys are okay?”
“Of course, you should get back to work. Thanks for staying with me.” Suddenly I don’t want him to go. “Six,” I say as he turns his back to leave. He turns to face me as Melinda stocks my fridge. “Do I get to know your name yet?”
“Soon enough, Four. Soon enough.”
He gives me a sexy little grin, takes out his phone, and snaps a picture of me.
“Six!” I yell.
Six laughs as he opens the door.
“Fair is fair, Four,” Six says as the door slams shut behind him.
The smile beams from my face, and all I can think about as I light up my phone and scroll to my photos is when I will see him, this naked and in person again.
“ALL SHARP ITEMS HAVE been removed from the proximity and it is safe to enter. Repeat. Safe to enter,” Melinda squawks into her phone.
“What are you up to?” I ask, cringing at the thought of another date.
“Mikey is on his way in. He’s ready for you to apologise for eating his cookies, and I think it’s time you guys made up.”
The door opens and in walks Mikey like he owns the place, wearing jeans so tight and skinny you can see the flex of his thigh, and a coat so light and fluffy, I’m wondering if Big Bird got highlights.
Damn Mikey for making Big Bird look cute!
“I’m not apologising,” I tell Melinda.
Mikey drapes his coat over the sofa and sits in Six’s chair, folding his arms over his pale blue shirt. “I’m not apologising either. She stole my cookies!” Mikey tells Melinda.
“He cooked drugs in my apartment!” I yell to Melinda.
“She stole from me!”
“He sent me on a date with a police officer, STONED!”
“She almost ruined my date with Chef! I spent the first hour saving her greedy ass!”
I turn to Mikey, incredulous. “I am not greedy! I’ve lost two pounds this week.”
Mikey turns right to me, his features cross. “I didn’t say you were fat! I said you were greedy. I cooked you your own batch, which, by the way, I made especially for you.”
“I know. I ate the whole container when I came back from my date with the police officer, stoned!”
“Were they any good? It was a new recipe.”
“Delicious, but that is not the point!”
“Both of you—STOP! You are both to blame. Mikey, you do not prepare drugs in someone else’s apartment. That is not cool! Joanie, you need to be more careful what you put in your mouth! Got it? Now apologise to each other,” Melinda yells.
We both stop and look. Melinda’s hands are in the ‘T’ shape that she uses to timeout the kids. I sigh. Arguing is exhausting and I really want to get both their opinions about my latest encounter with Six.
“I’m only apologising if he makes me cookies, minus the pot.”
Mikey grins and cocks his head. “Already have.” He reaches down to his bag and pulls out a familiar looking container. “No pot this time, I promise. Moreover, I am sorry. I should have known you’d have stolen them.”
I nod. “Then I’m sorry too.”
Melinda claps her hands and we tuck into the cookies. “Did you hear back from the police man? I take it he doesn’t want a second date with me?” I laugh.
“No, he said you were a little ‘eccentric’ for his tastes.”
“Totally better than being called a ‘Plain Jane’ though, right?” Mikey chips in.
“Who called me a Plain Jane?” I ask, feeling a little hurt.
“Brett. He said you were probably a bit tame for his wild ways. Wayne thought you were a bit vanilla for his tastes, also.”
“What? Are you kidding me? Brett wanted to drunk drive me all the way home!”
“I bet he did, you saucy gal!” Mikey sniggers teasingly and I shake my head.
“Wayne started touching himself on the video call. Seriously, Melinda, where the hell did you find these guys?”
“They were all the available bachelors I could find at short notice. Date eight, nine, and ten are much better, though. I’m giving you until Friday to recuperate and then you are back in the game, my dear Joanie.”
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that. I...”
“Don’t you dare back out now Joanie Fox. I survived cookery one-oh-one!”
“I broke my ass!”
“I met Chef and I really like him.”
Melinda and I swing our heads at this revelation.
“He’s... well he’s a bit Gordon Ramsey on steroids, and... Well it’s early days, but I’m seeing him again tonight.”
Melinda and I bounce excitedly until I howl in pain.
“Pain in the butt?” Melinda checks.
“Uh-huh.”
“Here, take some of these. You need to be at your best for Friday. You have another date!”
“Melinda, no. Really... I... what the hell... I snogged the face off Six. But I’m not sure he’s looking for anything serious. He said I was a ‘pleasant distraction,’ whatever that means.” My mouth turns down at the sides and I wonder where I stand. “What if he just sees me as an eccentric, Plain Jane with a cookie habit?”
“He said what? A pleasant distraction? Is he fricking kidding me? I am sick and tired of men who think they own the place, cluttering up the world with their thick-ass comments. Thinking they can come and go as they please, and that you will do the dishes and feed the kids while they go around shagging twenty-two-year-olds. WHO do they think they are? Charlatans, that’s what they are! In a few years, they’ll be bald and fat and who’ll be laughing then? Us. That’s who.” Melinda’s eyes tear up. “And now I’ve got sodding mascara in my eye. See what total bastards men are. Not you Mikey, you’re a doll...”
Mikey hands Melinda a tissue and we both stand there, wide eyed, watching our best friend, stronger than He-Man, break down.
“Shit. It’s true then. Steve cheated?” I ask, willing it all to be a big mistake.
“It’s been going on since the spring. While I was teaching Teeg to ride her bike, Jakey was learning to fish, and Ed was still trying to hang off my tit every five-minutes of the day, Steve was boning the barmaid at the Dog and Duck!”
“Oh Melinda, what a bastard!” Mikey calls it as it is.
“I know. What other child friendly pubs are there within walking distance? None, that’s how many! And now I have to keep my shit together long enough to see my four babies into adulthood, and I have no idea how I’m going to do it!”
“We’ll help you, Melinda. We’re a family us three.”
Melinda leaves to pick up the kids from school and nursery and Mikey goes for his date with Chef. I stretch my aching muscles and try walking around the house. I even manage to run myself a bath. As I walk to my set of drawers for clean pyjamas, I hear Six’s door creak as it closes.
I text him: Fancy some supper?
It’s a few minutes before he replies. When he does, it simply reads: Can’t, I’m busy. Rain check?
I reply instantly: Sure.
I don’t know what this means, but I shave my legs extra closely, just in case.
Chapter 14
I DON’T SEE SIX AT all on Tuesday. He texts on Wednesday to ask if I need anything, but since Mikey and Melinda are popping in every day, my cupboards are the most well stocked that they have ever been. The only thing I do need can’t be bought from a convenience store, not lawfully anyway.
Six hadn’t taken me up on the offer of supper and I start to wonder if our connection had just been a figment of my imagination.
By Thursday, I am walking in an upright position, and I’m finally able to put on my own socks. I practice some of the badly drawn stretches noted on the leaflet and, out of sheer boredom, practice playing Six’s trombone.
Melinda calls just after lunch to let me know that she has arranged for my car to be delivered back to me. She needs to know where it should be parked. I check out the window and notice that my usual space is for once empty and while this should fill me with delight, it just makes me feel empty and a little bit sad inside. Perhaps I pushed too much to find out about Six and now he thinks I’m too nosey or worse, clingy.
I pull out my phone and look at my picture of Six.
My God, those abs really are divine.
I torture myself some more and wonder if I should text him, but since I haven’t heard from him I decide to put all thoughts of Six out of my mind. He was obviously just being neighbourly when he helped me to shower and kissed any remaining sanity I had right out of my body. Now all that is left is a horny, slightly neurotic, nearly middle-aged crazy woman.
I have to keep busy. I switch the radio up high and pull out my decorating supplies. I’m going to paint my hallway battleship grey if it kills me, which it could since I still wince when I stretch and bend. It will take my mind off that bastard Six who is clearly not thinking of me, or else he would have called, texted, or visited me. I haven’t even heard much noise from the apartment next door. Maybe he’s gone back to shagging Twenty and now all thoughts of Four are long behind him.
I angrily pull out the roller and paint can from the cupboard next to the bathroom and pour a liberal amount of paint into the tray. I start at the point nearest the front door and work my way back towards the lounge, stopping to rest and stretch. I try to start slow and careful, but the sombre shade and my pissy mood soon turns my strokes angry as I smear it against the wall. It’s a bit like angry sex but messier and lacking the satisfaction or the relief.
Each time I hear a noise in the corridor outside, I stop and check the peephole, but it’s not Six. I meet Two’s elderly girlfriend though, and she introduces me to her poodle, Bob, who matches Two’s poodle, Sue. I find their double dating with their canines cute, and I realise there really is someone for everyone, even poodles.
Except me, it seems.
I continue to paint everything grey and by the time I am finished, my hallway matches the bleakness of my mood. It looks depressive and dull, and my muscles hurt so much that I actually want to cry. So much for keeping busy and cheering myself up. My hallway doesn’t look sleek and modern like Six’s; it looks like the inside of Parkhurst Prison.
I pour myself a large glass of wine and start to run a bath. My reflection in the mirror mocks my age and single status, as the grey flecks from the paint stains my normally brown hair.
The intercom buzzes to life and makes me jump. I jolt my back as I rush to answer it. “Hello.”
“Got your keys,” a crackly voice says.
I buzz him in. At least with my car back I can go out for a few hours tomorrow.
After a few minutes of waiting in the doorway the man arrives. However, it’s not the courier service I was expecting; no, of course it’s not. It’s my date from the paintball, what’s-his-name.
Shit!
I quickly shake my hair loose, hoping he doesn’t want to stop and make small talk with me minus my make-up. Maybe he’ll even mistake me for a grey haired elderly person; I toy with whether I could pull off pretending to be my Granny.
“Hi,” I say, greeting him with a small smile. The least I can do is to be friendly since he brought my car back, even if he was partly responsible for my predicament.
He looks identical to how he did on our date, like an Action Man. He’s wearing camouflage cargo bottoms and a tight fitting T-shirt. I wonder if he just got off work or if he dresses ready for combat every day. His forearm has a tattoo of a dragon attacking a dog, all gnarly teeth, blood and saliva. I don’t like it. It’s too graphic and violent. It makes me feel sorry for the poor rabid dog about to be devoured.
“Hi Joanie,” Action Man growls as he approaches me. I want to grimace, not really in the mood for a chat, but he holds out the keys to my car on one finger. I maintain a neutral face. The last thing I need is to be carless come Monday.
“One set of keys. I put it in the space out front and I topped up your oil. I hope you don’t mind, but it’s not good to drive a car around without it.” Action Man chuckles and I thank him, hoping he might just say goodbye and leave me to my bath.
No such luck. He holds the keys, just out of reach, and continues his chatter. “So, last Sunday was intense, huh? I would have called you to check on you, perhaps ask you out for a second date, but I don’t have your number.”
The keys dangle from Action Man’s finger as he stares into my eyes. The pause isn’t just pregnant; it houses a dormitory of cadets as he waits for me to respond.
“I um... yeah, it sure was intense. Still feeling the intensity of that attack now, laugh out loud.” I face palm, I can’t actually believe I said ‘laugh out loud.’ Still, with any luck, he’ll think I’m a complete dork and there will be no more mention of second dates.
I reach up to take my keys from Action Man, but I’m distracted as Six rounds the corner and strolls towards us. He’s wearing a sharp navy suit and his hair is neatly styled. He has a forceful look in his eyes that demands my attention. They’re narrowed black holes as he glances away from me to focus on Action Man.
Six walks the corridor like a raging bull. Suddenly Action Man looks weak and puny. Just when I think Six is going to storm straight past us, Action Man says, “So, how about that second date?”
My mouth falls open.
Six swings around and stops abruptly in between Action Man and me.
I feel like I’ve just been dropped in a war zone and debris is blasting all around me. I don’t know whom to look at or whether to run for cover.
Then, as if the sun, peeking through a stormy cloud Six smiles and says, “Hi, Four. I just thought I... What the fuck is that all over your face?”
I pick a piece of dried grey paint from my shirt and answer, “It’s paint! I’ve been painting the hallway.”
“Oh, you look like you’ve been rolling around in bird shit. Anyway, I thought I’d stop to check how you are, see if you needed any more help with showering?” Six’s eyebrows rise and his tongue gives a sexy sweep of his lower lip. Action Man must decide that Six is joking because he gives him a friendly greeting and holds his hand out to shake.
Six blatantly pretends he doesn’t see this action, saying, “Oh, hi. Sorry, I didn’t see you there, must be the camouflage.” Six plasters a friendly smile over the concrete edges of his stony face and turns back to me. “Who’s your friend, Four?”
I stand mute, stuck to the spot.
Action Man is still waiting for my answer to his question, and Six just asked me the wors
t question in the world.
“I um... this is um...” I smile politely, racking my brain even though I know damn well I can’t flipping remember his name. I feel perspiration creep down my spine when an epiphany hits me. “This is my date, from Sunday,” I say with relief.
That, Joanie Fox, is a perfectly acceptable introduction.
“He just brought my car back. You know, because on Sunday I couldn’t walk, let alone drive.” I let out a strangled giggle.
Six performs a slow understanding nod. “I see. What did you say his name was?” His voice is innocent enough, but his quizzical eyes and mocking smirk clue me in to his more sinister motive. It’s then the penny drops, Six has stopped by to date shame me, and he must know I have no idea what Action Man’s name is, not without checking my emails first.
I raise my chin up and stare angrily at Six, ready for battle. Action Man studies us both in turn. He must decide that Six is a friendly if not a nosey neighbour, because undeterred, he interrupts our staring competition to ask me, “So, that second date? I’ve got a pass for the paragliding club. I can get us both in free.” Action Man lowers the arm holding the keys and leans against the door, closer to me, as if he just delivered good news and I might want to thank him.
The horror flooding my mind must be invisible because Six says, “What a fantastic idea. Four was just saying the other day how she’d like to get out more, take even more risks. This is perfect!” He guffaws and slaps his thigh. His eyes crinkle in delight as my fists harden into rocks ready to pound his face.
Now that my keys dangle closer, I’m able to snatch them from Action Man. “Thanks for dropping the keys back. I’m not sure my doctor would agree to any more extreme sports, but thanks all the same. I must go. I think I can hear my bath. It’ll be flooding the apartment if I don’t get to it.”
I leap back and push the door, breathing a sigh of relief as soon as it is closed. I peer through the peephole to see Action Man and Six stare at each other for a moment, before turning and heading off in their separate directions.
My mind wanders into dangerous territory as I question if Six was jealous or just enjoying teasing me. Part of me hopes he was jealous because that might mean he really cares for me.