Three Way (11 page)

‘Hi,’ I say.

‘Hi Ollie, how’s it going?’

‘Not bad. I have a little dilemma.’ She turns towards me and folds her newspaper.

‘Oh? I love dilemmas. Tell me.’

‘Okay well. You know that Swedish girl I was going out with?’

‘Svetla, yes we all know about her Ollie.’

‘Ah,’ I reply. I hadn’t realised I’d bored everyone with my tales of the Swedish one.

‘What about her? Don’t tell me you’re back together?’

‘No. Just…I’m going on a date tonight,’ I say. She inhales excitedly.

‘With the girl in the City?’

‘Lauren, yeah. But the thing is, I sort of…fooled around with an old school friend who happens to be staying with me.’ Julie’s expression shifts from excited to a small frown. ‘We’re not going out or anything but we have this sort of, complex relationship.’ Her expression changes again to what I would describe as disappointment. ‘We went out in school but it was a bit of a disaster and we nearly lost our friendship, so we worked out some rules. Bearing in mind this was a few years ago, I’m assuming those rules still apply.’

‘So these rules say you can shag her but not go out with her?’

‘Well, yeah I guess. God, you think I’m evil don’t you?’

‘No, just a man,’ she replies, sighing. ‘Maybe you shouldn’t be shagging your school friend when you’re going out with Lauren.’

‘Yeah,’ I say. A pause before I then continue with, ‘I’m just worried I’m going out with Lauren for the wrong reasons and maybe I’m still fucked up about Svetla and using Ashley to make myself feel better.’

‘So you’re shagging one, dating another while secretly pining for the third?’ Julie says, staring at me. Well jeez, when you put it like that…

‘I am such an arsehole, aren’t I?’ I say. She shakes her head.

‘A little bit, yeah.’ Her words sting with the bitterness of truth. ‘Look, what do you want?’

‘You think I should cancel the date?’

‘No,’ she replies, thoughtfully. ‘Just, don’t string her along. I guess you don’t owe her anything but it could get really bad, really soon. Especially if you carry on with your school friend.’

‘Yeah,’ I reply, taking in what she’s said.

‘So, she lives with you, this friend?’

‘Yeah, her boyfriend was being an arse, she had nowhere else to go.’

‘She just showed up?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Man, she is so in love with you.’

‘No, it’s not that sort of relationship.’

‘I know you think that but trust me, she wants your babies,’ she says.

‘This is not helping. How’s Josh anyway, has he asked yet?’ I ask, deftly changing the subject. Julie sighs again.

‘No and I’m getting…it’s fine. I’m not expecting anything.’

‘But if he doesn’t ask you to marry him the next sixty days, he’s toast, right?’

‘Right,’ she says, automatically. ‘No! I just…look, the ball is in his court. That’s all I’m going to say.’

‘I’m sure he’ll do it soon.’

‘Yeah. Exactly,’ she says, looking back at her paper.

How do I describe the Proxy Bar? A little bit too fashionable? The customers inside look like they all own swimming pools and Segways. There isn’t a man in there that isn’t wearing a tie and jacket even though there’s no official dress code. The best word I can find to describe this place is poncey. Marginally too up-its-own-arse. I peer inside, looking for Lauren. I can’t see her. Do I want to go in, sit at the bar like a loner boy? Or should I stand outside looking like a homeless person on the scrounge? I opt to head inside, it’s too cold outside anyway even if it is July. Blue LEDs light the top of the bar. The aluminium bar stools are buffed to a high shine. The noise is incredible. People have to shout above the din. Although I would never choose to hang out in a place like this (my wallet could never take the damage) I have to admit it does have a certain energy. The place feels comfortable in its style, abundant with primness and patrons.

Taking a deep breath, I walk over to the bar. I glance over at the sea of customers impatiently waiting to be served. Well, at least I can kill some time while the staff supply the rest of these people.

‘Yes sir?’ the barman says. I glance over at others who’d been waiting longer.

‘Oh…uh,’ I reply. I haven’t even chosen what I want. I look at the line of draught selection, all premium beers. All, no doubt, painful on the wallet. I can’t decide. The barman’s expression shifts from expectant friendliness to annoyed irritation.

‘Uh, uh…Leffe, I’ll have a Leffe,’ I blurt out. Man, that was surprisingly hard work. I glance around again, looking for Lauren. No sign. I look at my watch. Five past eight. It’s fine, she probably couldn’t get away from work. The barman places a beer mat down on the bar and positions my pint on top.

‘Six pounds fifty please.’ My mouth hits the floor. I almost say ‘Fuck me.’ That is an insane amount of money for a pint, don’t you think? Christ, that must be in the running for most expensive pint in London. Six pounds fifty! I begrudgingly hand over the money, shaking my head as I turn to look for somewhere to sit. The place is heaving, there’s no way we’re sitting in here. I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn to see Lauren standing behind me. She looks breathtaking. Wearing a power suit and white blouse, the whole ensemble looks fantastically sexy.

‘Hi,’ she says.

‘Hi,’ I reply, unsure whether to go for a kiss on the cheek. Fortunately, she leans into me and kisses my left cheek. It sends my nerves tingling. I smile. She glances down at my pint.

‘Leffe? Good choice, I love Leffe.’

‘Let me get you one,’ I reply, turning to the bar. Of course, now he’s serving someone else and I just know I won’t be that lucky again.

‘You look very nice,’ Lauren says, putting her hand through my arm.

‘Thanks, so do you,’ I reply, knowing how lame it sounds.

‘Sorry I’m late, had a few bits to clear up at the office.’

‘No worries.’ I’m strangely nervous, not sure what to say. I turn back to the bar, a vague attempt to catch a barman’s attention. We stand, slightly awkwardly, neither saying anything.

‘So busy day?’ I say, still having no luck with the barman.

‘Always. You?’

‘Not really, not much going on,’ I reply.

‘It didn’t look like there was much news around today.’

‘No. Bit dull,’ I reply. I turn back to the barman who catches my eye, I smile at him.

‘Yes mate,’ he says, suddenly spotting Lauren. I see him do a double take. Yeah fuckhead…she’s with me. Don’t know why I called him fuckhead but it feels right somehow.

‘Another pint of Leffe please,’ I say. He nods and glances at Lauren. Or was it at her tits? Unsure. Let’s not go there. I turn back to her. ‘Sorry about that email.’

‘Why?’

‘I dunno, just could have written something…better, I guess.’

‘Ollie, seriously, don’t worry about it. If I thought you were a psycho, I would have given tonight a miss.’

‘Fair enough,’ I reply. I don’t know what else to say other than the obligatory ‘Will you have sex with me?’ which I know I can’t say out loud but...any thoughts would be great at this point? Anyone? No? Brilliant.

Luckily, the barman brings over the pint and asks for another eye-watering sum of money for it. At this rate, I’ll be out of money before we’ve even eaten. She takes the drink and sips the beer.

‘Damn that’s good,’ she says, ‘those Belgians really know what they’re doing when it comes to beer.’

‘Yeah,’ I say. Lame-arse. I look around the bar. ‘Nice place.’

‘Yeah, it’s okay. It’s a bit pretentious but it’s close to work so, convenient.’

‘Should have booked a table, sorry.’

‘I’ll just ask someone to move,’ she says.

‘Yeah right, good one.’ I say, chuckling. Turns out, she’s not joking. She heads over to two guys sitting at a large double table that could easily accommodate more if they were pulled apart. I watch her talking to them. They are eager to please, their expressions give them away. Men are so easily influenced. I observe this knowing full well I would be doing exactly what they are doing, which is moving their chairs closer so we can pull one of their tables away. Lauren beckons to me to come over, which I do, like the obedient dog that I am.

‘Wow, good job,’ I say, pulling off my jacket and hanging it over the chair.

‘Just have to ask, most people are very accommodating if you ask with a smile,’ she replies, taking her seat.

‘Well, they’re accommodating for you, Lauren. Doubt it works for everyone.’

‘Why’s that?’ she asks.

‘Well, because you’re…’

‘What?’

‘Pretty.’

‘You think I’m pretty?’

‘Come on, you know you’re gorgeous.’

‘I think I’m not bad. I wanted to see what you thought.’

‘Well I don’t really think it’s up for discussion.’

‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome,’ I smile and take a sip of my beer.

‘So, how did you get into being a news producer?’ she asks.

‘I used to be a runner for music videos, commercials. Making tea and coffee and stuff. And I was sending letters off to people asking for jobs and one was TBN who came back to me saying ‘thank you for your letter, we’ll keep it on file, blah blah’ and then six months later I got a phone call asking if I wanted to come in for an interview. So I did and they gave me a job as a news runner, running scripts to presenters and helping graphics with the background images behind the newsreader. So I sort of worked my way up from there.’

‘Sounds like a lot of fun.’

‘Yeah, it was. Nice team. Although when I screw up I get shouted at in front of the whole newsroom but…’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. Luckily I don’t screw up that often, so it sort of works out,’ I say. She nods slowly.

‘How long have you been there?’ she asks.

‘Maybe, four years now.’

‘Do you still like it?’

‘Yeah I really do. Like any job it has its dull days but every so often I get to do something or see something that no one else gets to do and on those occasions I feel pretty lucky.’

‘Does it get busy often?’

‘All these questions…’ I say, smiling. ‘I haven’t asked you anything.’

‘Sorry, it’s just…I love journalism. It’s so interesting.’

‘Well the reality and the perception can be quite different sometimes.’

‘I’ll bet.’

‘What about you? How did you get to be where you are?’ I ask, picking up my beer.

‘I slept with every boss I’ve ever had,’ she replies. I gulp my beer down, and stare at her. I chuckle, unsure if she’s serious. Her face betrays nothing.

‘Really?’

‘Would that offend you?’ she asks. I frown slightly.

‘No. I don’t believe you.’

‘Believe it,’ she says, still deadpan.

‘Okay,’ I reply, slightly unnerved. Suddenly she bursts out laughing.

‘Ollie! Of course I didn’t!’ she says, touching my arm.

‘Oh, okay,’ I reply, relief in my voice. ‘Very good.’

‘You are going to be so easy to wind up.’

‘Yeah,’ I say. This girl is weird.

We’re onto our third pint by nine-thirty and I think the alcohol is starting to go to my head. I consider whether drinking with no food is a wise idea but hey, I’m here now. I’m still trying to figure Lauren out. She seems like a fun girl but she asks me about my job a little too often which fuels my fear that she’s just here to raise her profile. What the hell. I guess it’s just a first proper date, doesn’t have to turn into love, marriage, babies, houses, affairs, divorces, midlife crisis’. That’s not how I look at life, by the way. Anyway, where were we?

‘I’m having a nice time, Ollie,’ she says, placing her beer down, slightly off the mat.

‘Me too,’ I reply.

‘You ever had issues in the bedroom?’

‘What?’ I say, chuckling. I’m slightly taken aback by the directness of her question.