by Mandy Baggot
The red top was a bit brave for her though. She was very much a black/brown kind of girl, but having limited time and Cleo being so desperate to help, Samantha didn’t have the heart to protest. Cleo had toned and moisturised her, put on foundation and a small amount of eye shadow but Samantha had drawn the line at the pillar box red lipstick. She had hung her head upside down and blasted her hair with the dryer too, so now it had some volume and the finishing touch had been the red handbag Cleo insisted she took. It was tiny, like a Barbie doll bag, but it did fit in her money and door key and was really all she needed. She had flatly refused the packet of Durex Cleo had offered.
As soon as the taxi pulled up outside the Presbook Centre Samantha saw Jimmy. He was standing just outside the main doors where there were throngs of people flooding into the building. He was wearing jeans and a three quarter length khaki jacket with, what looked like, a blue top underneath. His hair was freshly styled and he looked amazing.
As the taxi prepared to come to a halt, Samantha saw a woman approach him. They began to talk and Jimmy was smiling at her, showing his perfect white teeth. The woman was attractive, blonde and slim. Samantha let out a sigh and watched them out of the window. The woman produced some paper and Jimmy began to write on it. Samantha’s heart lurched. They were so obviously exchanging phone numbers. And why shouldn’t they? He was single, he was completely gorgeous and funny and nice and the woman was slim and blonde and probably had white teeth too. She probably also liked clubbing.
‘Is here OK love?’ the taxi driver asked as he stopped the car and looked at Samantha in his rear view mirror.
‘Oh yes, yes, here is fine. How much is it?’ Samantha asked as she struggled to get her wallet out of the tiny bag.
‘Call it seven quid,’ the cabbie spoke.
‘Keep the change and could I have one of your cards for later?’ Samantha spoke, handing him a ten pound note.
‘Sure, here you go,’ the taxi driver replied, passing a business card back to her.
The door of the taxi was suddenly swung open and Samantha found herself looking at Jimmy.
‘Hey! You made it! D’you want me to pay the guy?’ Jimmy asked her.
‘No! No, I’ve paid. It’s fine, thanks - thank you,’ Samantha called to the driver as she hurriedly scrambled out of the taxi.
Jimmy took hold of her arm to help her out and Samantha felt her cheeks burning. She really had to get over herself and stop thinking that this night was a date in the ordinary sense of the word. This was nothing but business. She needed to find business mode. She needed to think of the Civic Hall where she was in complete control and felt comfortable - she needed to focus. The very idea that someone like Jimmy would ask her out on a date was utterly laughable. She wasn’t his type at all. She wasn’t an actress with cosmetic enhancements and a collagen smile. She didn’t know her waist size or how many Ryvitas you had to eat to call it a main meal.
‘You look really nice,’ Jimmy commented as they walked towards the entrance.
Oh why had he said that? Business, business, business.
‘Oh, ho, ho,’ Samantha replied involuntarily, sounding like a petrified Father Christmas.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to make that sound how it came out. I just haven’t actually seen you dressed in anything but your uniform. I was beginning to think you didn’t have any other clothes,’ Jimmy continued.
‘No, ho, ho, hee,’ Samantha responded nervously.
She quickly clamped her mouth shut, pressing her teeth together hard before she could deliver any other ridiculous noises.
‘I actually got here early, but so many people came up to me wanting autographs I had to go inside for a bit to look around - just to escape,’ Jimmy informed her.
‘Oh, so the pretty woman wanted an autograph,’ Samantha commented again not thinking before she spoke.
‘Pretty woman?’ Jimmy queried as they entered the centre.
‘Oh wow, look. They’ve got a really open plan box office. The desk is low and there are - goodness, look at their leaflet holders,’ Samantha exclaimed excitedly, walking up to the plastic mounts and touching them fondly.
‘Should I be writing all this down? Low desk and cool leaflet holders?’ Jimmy spoke, putting his hand in his jacket pocket.
‘You’ve brought a notebook?’ Samantha asked, turning to look at him and feeling secretly impressed by his organisation.
She had wanted to bring a notebook but there was no way anything other than one the size of a matchbox would have fitted in the petite bag.
‘No! Of course not! I was just kidding. Besides, Felicity tells me you have a photographic memory,’ Jimmy replied with a smile.
Samantha smiled, hiding her disappointment and wondering why Felicity seemed to have time to chat to Jimmy when she could never find time to audit the stationery cupboard.
‘Their bar is absolutely full,’ Samantha remarked, seeing a large gathering of people at the end of the room.
‘Yeah and they have tables in there too so you can eat there if you don’t want to go to the restaurant. Shall we go and get a drink?’ Jimmy suggested.
‘A drink? Well, I don’t know, it does seem very busy and…’ Samantha started nervously.
‘Get used to it. This could be what the Civic Hall is like if its future is secured - come on,’ Jimmy encouraged and he linked his arm with hers before she had a chance to say any more.
‘What would you like?’ Jimmy spoke above the noise of the crowd as they jostled their way towards the bar.
‘Oh, erm, just a glass of water will be fine,’ Samantha told him.
‘Listen, don’t feel you have to abstain from alcohol on account of me. I won’t start dribbling and shaking if you have some - I promise,’ Jimmy remarked with half a smile.
‘Oh no, no, I didn’t even think of that. I don’t really drink very much. I’ll have a Coke, a diet Coke,’ Samantha said, quickly making her mind up.
‘OK. Well, why don’t you go and get us some seats. There’s a table over there. Have you eaten?’ Jimmy enquired.
‘Eaten? No, no, but I’m not really…’ Samantha began nervously.
‘Neither have I and I’m starved. Why don’t you go and look at the menus and check out their range and prices - see if we can’t borrow some of their ideas for the hall. This is kind of cool isn’t it? Spying on the enemy!’ Jimmy said, grinning.
Samantha managed a weak smile of agreement and then left him, making her way over to the table he had pointed out.
She needed to get a grip, she could hardly talk. She had ordered a diet Coke when she really did need something alcoholic - like a litre of wine all to herself. Now, to top it all off, she had the tallest stool in the world to get up on.
She had to get on it gracefully and she had to do it without anyone seeing incase she didn’t quite pull graceful off. She looked around the bar, waiting for the perfect opportunity. The half a dozen men dressed in Air Patrol tour t-shirts at the table nearest her all looked towards the merchandise stand in unison as someone started to cause a scene by trying to queue jump. Samantha took her chance. She leapt up onto the stool, slid along the seat and fell down the other side of it, landing in a heap on the floor.
Cheeks ablaze, she hurriedly stood up, cautiously looking around to see if anyone had noticed.
A group of mainly blonde, attractive women, at the table next to the men in Air Patrol t-shirts, laughed out loud and looked over in her direction. Samantha’s cheeks continued to glow as red as the top she was wearing, but she managed to get up onto the stool on the second attempt, using the table as an aid. The top had been a mistake. She stood out like a sore thumb. Like an Arsenal fan in the Spurs end.
Samantha looked over to where Jimmy was positioned at the bar and was glad his back was towards her. It might just have been possible he hadn’t seen her fall or seen her scrambling onto the stool in such an undignified manner.
‘One diet Coke,’ Jimmy spoke when he came back. He put the drink
down in front of her and with one hop, hoisted himself effortlessly onto the seat.
‘Thank you,’ Samantha answered.
It was the first normal sentence she had managed that evening.
‘So how’s the menu?’ Jimmy enquired, picking up a copy of his own.
‘Just like McDonald’s really - except there’s no Happy Meal,’ Samantha responded.
‘Probably because it’s cheap, quick to make and all people really expect before they watch a show,’ Jimmy commented.
‘But there’s little variation, hardly any vegetarian options and you’re stuck if you don’t like potatoes. We’ve got curly fries, crinkle fries, wedges, Cajun twists and jackets,’ Samantha spoke, finding herself becoming defensive.
‘Hey, I know I’m just a humble ice skater and I really know nothing about running a facility like the Civic Hall but, if I was you, I’d take a leaf out of their book. I’d decrease the size of the menu and put cheaper, quicker options on there. That’s what’s gonna get you a higher turnover on those tables,’ Jimmy told her.
‘Not exactly an eating experience though is it?’ Samantha said with a sigh, putting her glass back on the table.
‘You aren’t selling the experience in the restaurant - the experience should be the show. Everything else should just complement that,’ Jimmy spoke and he took a sip of his mineral water.
‘I guess so,’ Samantha replied.
‘Listen, let’s try one of the cheaply made meals and see what they’re like. If they’re really all that bad then I’ll take it all back,’ Jimmy suggested.
‘Goodness, must we?’ Samantha asked, looking again at the menu.
‘Come on Sam, live a little,’ Jimmy said with a smile.
‘I suppose I ought to live a little quickly before I eat here - these might be the very last moments I have. I’ll have the chicken burger with Cajun sauce and curly chips and hurry up before I change my mind,’ Samantha ordered him and she put the menu back down on the table.
‘I’ll be right back,’ Jimmy said, jumping down from the stool and heading back to the bar.
Twenty minutes later they had not only had the food brought to the table but they had also eaten it. They both had empty plates.
‘Well?’ Jimmy asked her as he wiped his mouth with the paper napkin.
‘Actually it wasn’t bad for something that had obviously been chargrilled at speed,’ Samantha admitted.
‘I agree,’ Jimmy responded, putting his napkin down on the plate.
‘But it’s so different to what we do now.’
‘I’m thinking burgers and fries, a vegetarian option and a kid’s portion on all meals. I think you were right when you said ‘Happy Meal’ earlier. Kids portion in a box with a drink and a plastic toy,’ Jimmy told her.
‘But maybe we could keep OAP discount day and put traditional meals on the menu for that. Just two or three easy options. I really need to keep shepherd’s pie,’ Samantha spoke almost excitedly.
‘Perfect,’ Jimmy agreed, smiling back at her.
‘It wouldn’t take a lot to make those changes. We could get in the supplies, have some new menus printed…’ Samantha mused her mind working overtime.
‘Sure and I have a friend who runs a printing company. He could probably do a good price,’ Jimmy told her, finishing up his drink.
‘Do you have friends in every position imaginable?’ Samantha enquired.
‘I know a lot of people, what can I say? Hey, it’s almost nine, the band will be on soon. Shall we go and sit down?’ Jimmy suggested, checking his watch.
‘Sit down? Oh, I presumed it was a standing concert, Cleo said that…’ Samantha began.
‘Sorry, the tickets Giles got me are for the VIP section. Apparently everything was sold out in four minutes or something,’ Jimmy remarked.
‘Oh, VIP section,’ Samantha repeated her mind flashing her images of Cleo’s face when she told her later.
‘Is that OK?’ Jimmy checked.
‘Yes, of course. To be honest it’s probably a good thing - it’s been a while since I wore these shoes,’ Samantha admitted.
‘Cool, well let’s go,’ Jimmy said and he led the way.
Air Patrol were very loud but very good and there were several songs Samantha recognised. Margaret and Mabel had a radio in the Civic Hall kitchen that could only get Radio One, so they knew all the latest hits and could often be heard humming Eminem as they served up lunch. Thankfully neither of them had attempted rapping as yet.
She couldn’t quite believe she was sat at a concert on a ‘kind of but not quite’ date with Jimmy Lloyd. She tried not to, but she kept sneaking a sideways glance at him every now and then to check he was still next to her, to check that he was real. He seemed to be enjoying the concert. He’d stood up and danced and waved his arms with the rest of the crowd and in the end he had pulled her to her feet to do the same. She had cautiously moved from one foot to the other, trying to keep in time, but she had to draw the line at arm waving - she didn’t feel comfortable doing it. And she found she couldn’t wave her arms and move her feet at the same time.
By the end of the gig both her and Jimmy were applauding the band’s efforts along with a few thousand other people.
‘So what did you think? Was it your thing?’ Jimmy enquired as they made their way down from the balcony area.
‘They were very good,’ Samantha answered brightly.
‘But very loud! I must be getting old, I’m starting to sound like my father,’ Jimmy remarked with a laugh.
Samantha reached up to her ear and pulled out a plug of cotton wool.
‘No! You’re kidding me! You could have shared!’ Jimmy exclaimed.
‘I didn’t bring any more,’ Samantha told him.
Jimmy smiled and the Minstrel eyes were looking at her. Samantha felt her cheeks reddening again and the urge to cough rising in her throat. Hurriedly she unzipped the tiny red bag and pulled out the taxi card.
‘I’d better call my taxi driver,’ she spoke, holding the card aloft as if it were some sort of prize.
‘I can take you home, my car’s parked just behind the Centre,’ Jimmy told her.
‘Oh no, no, I couldn’t let you do that. You got the tickets and everything and you paid for the food, which I’m happy to pay my share of, I do have some…’ Samantha started already trembling at the thought of getting into a car with him.
‘I insist. You live near the hall right? Well it’s on the way back to my hotel,’ Jimmy told her.
‘It’s fine, honestly. I’ll get a taxi, they’re very reliable and I’ll feel like I’ve let them down if I don’t. I mean I did say I’d use their service later and…’ Samantha babbled, feeling more and more flushed by the second.
‘Sam, it’s just a ride,’ Jimmy told her.
‘I know, of course. I mean, what else would it be? Ha, ho, hee,’ Samantha spoke as she lost control of her vocal chords.
‘Come on, I’m not talking no for an answer,’ Jimmy insisted and he linked arms with her for the second time that night and led the way out of the Presbook Centre.
What was she doing? Inside the concert hall it had been safe. There were people, there was a concert going on, she was able to wax lyrical about the Civic Hall and how she could improve things. Now she was about to get into a car with the object of her affection and nothing but a gear stick between them. He would want to talk and she wouldn’t know what to say. She could feel herself starting to perspire already. Thank God for Sure! roll on. She’d given herself a double dose earlier.
‘See, here we are. Told you it was nothing fancy, just a hire car,’ Jimmy announced as he indicated the Volkswagen Golf they were approaching.
‘I don’t know anything about cars,’ Samantha admitted her chest becoming tight.
‘Do you drive?’ Jimmy asked as he unlocked the door and opened it for her.
‘No,’ Samantha replied bluntly.
‘And Cleo? Does she drive?’ Jimmy questioned.
; ‘No, she took her test five times and failed. They, called her erratic and vulnerable,’ Samantha responded, trying to breathe properly.
‘Are you going to get in?’ Jimmy enquired, indicating the open door and the seat inside.
‘Well, I - d’you know what? Let’s go to a club!’ Samantha announced at the top of her voice.
‘What?’ Jimmy replied in shock.
‘Let’s go to a club! Come on, there’s one just opposite the Centre, it’s called Revolution. Cleo goes there all the time - let’s go!’ Samantha spoke excitedly, backing away from the car and turning towards the main street.
What was she saying? Anything to avoid getting into such a confined space with him. She couldn’t get in the car, it was so small and the seats were so close together they would practically be touching the whole way back to her house - no she couldn’t do that. A club was terrifying too but at least there would be hundreds of other people there and toilets to hide in if necessary.
‘Let me get this straight - you want to go to a club?’ Jimmy spoke, looking at her in amusement.
‘Yes, I mean, you were saying earlier I ought to live a little and Cleo is always raving about clubs and saying what fun they are - I want to try it, let’s go,’ Samantha said her heart threatening to break free from her chest as she talked her escape route.
‘Well, OK, if that’s what you want to do,’ Jimmy answered, closing the door and relocking the car.
‘Yes, it is. That’s exactly what I want to do - it will be - fun,’ Samantha responded with an unconvincing smile.
Fifteen
Revolution had a queue of at least fifty people outside and three burly bouncers on the door. Two of them were bald and looked like Ross Kemp and the third had stringy, black hair tied back in a pony tail. He was taller than the Ross Kemp twins and looked like a cross between Francis Rossi from Status Quo and Steven Seagal.