Alice Brown's Lessons in the Curious Art of Dating (29 page)

Alice surveyed Steve from behind her orange juice. Kate was right; there was definitely something going on. He’d barely made eye contact; instead his eyes kept flitting around the pub or darting to the door, waiting for his mate to arrive. And that was another thing. Steve had known for a full week that they were having a drink to discuss his progress at Table For Two, so why had he arranged to meet his mate at exactly the same time? This wasn’t the sweet, earnest Steve Alice remembered. Something was up.

‘So, you’re completely happy with how things are going?’ Alice clarified, interrupting Steve’s umpteenth visual journey around the interior of the pub.

‘Yeah, yeah. It’s great,’ he enthused distractedly, still not looking at her.

‘It’s just that you’ve been on first dates with quite a few women but you haven’t wanted to meet any of them again.’

‘Yeah, that’s right.’

Alice felt confused. Clients weren’t usually so nonchalant. Normally, if Cupid hadn’t shown up by date number three they were straight on the phone to complain.

‘So . . . it’s not great then really, is it?’ she pushed.

‘Eh?’ His eyes flicked momentarily to her. ‘No, really. It’s fine.’

‘But aren’t you getting frustrated?’

‘Frustrated?’ he snorted. And then he quickly recomposed himself.

‘That we haven’t cracked it yet?’

‘No, no. I mean, well, it’s a hard job, isn’t it, matching people up. You’re bound to get a few duds before you hit the jackpot.’

Alice was amazed. Clients never said stuff like this!

‘Look.’ Steve briefly turned his attention to her. ‘If you’re here because you’re worried I think you’re doing a bad job, well, don’t be. Worried, I mean. I’m sure you’re doing your best.’

His tone wasn’t conciliatory, or praising, or even patronizing. It was simply . . . what was it? It didn’t make sense!

‘So that’s that then,’ Steve concluded.

‘Well, not exactly.’

Steve froze slightly. For a moment he looked caught.

‘Look, I don’t want to keep matching you with . . . “duds”.’ Alice forced herself to use his description. ‘It’s my job to find your perfect woman – the woman you said you wanted to grow old with, remember?’

Was it Alice’s imagination, or did Steve blanch?

‘I don’t want to waste your money or let you down,’ she rallied. ‘I’ve got your happiness to think about! So let’s stop wasting your time on dates with women you’re not interested in, and let’s find you “the one” and get you off the market.’

Steve studied the table. Alice tried to swallow her amazement.

‘That is what you want, Steve. Isn’t it?’

Her question hovered between them. She saw his cheeks flush, the blush spreading across his face, swallowing up his pale features and lighting up his ears. There were a few long seconds of silence. And then, just as he was opening his mouth to reply, his attention was caught by someone coming through the door and an expression – relief ? – flashed across his face.

‘Tommy!’ He jumped up. ‘All right, mate? This is Alice from Table For Two. Alice, this is my mate Tommy.’

Reluctantly Alice drew her eyes away. A burly, friendly looking man was bowling towards them, a smile on his face and laughter in his eyes.

‘So you’re the lady who’s been tasked with finding someone desperate enough to fall for this idiot!’ he grinned, pumping her hand in greeting.

Tommy was a big rugged bear of a man, solidly built, and with an easy charm. As Steve moved to stand next to him Alice noticed he looked smaller and paler than before.

‘Yeah, well, just because you only have to look at a woman for her to drop her knickers,’ he mumbled bitterly.

There was a sudden silence. Tommy stifled a laugh. Alice noticed Steve’s blush surge back across his face with even more force than before.

‘Keeps his inner poet well hidden – don’t you, mate?’ Tommy glossed over the pause. ‘Now, Alice: what can I get
you? You must need a stiff drink after putting up with this plonker!’

Alice watched as Tommy strode towards the bar, Steve scuttling behind him, the tips of his ears glowing a painful pink. She sat back in her chair and thought. The pieces were suddenly fitting together.

Ever since Tony had stood her up, Lou had been feeling vicious. And when she felt vicious she liked a drink.

‘So,’ Kate interjected as Lou finished describing her boss with a list of the most venomous adjectives known to the English language. ‘That
was
his last chance, right?’

Lou and Kate were halfway through their first bottle of laughably expensive wine in a swanky new bar on the fashionable side of the city. It had only opened a week ago, and they’d been lucky to get the last table, even if it
was
squeezed next to the loos.

‘You can’t shag him again,’ Kate continued. ‘He’s made it clear where his priorities lie.’

Lou frowned. Kate had a really irritating way of hitting the nail on the head.

‘As if I’d give that spineless, small-dicked arse-wipe the time of day,’ she replied blithely.

‘So it’s over, then?’

‘It never even started,’ Lou said dismissively.

‘But that’s it? No more sex with Tony?’

Lou took a large sip of wine. No more sex with Tony. It sounded strange.

‘Lou! Come on!’ Kate cried. ‘He chose Suzy!’

‘As if I’d want him to leave his wife anyway!’ Lou snapped. ‘I’m only
shagging
him. Christ!’

There was a pause.

‘So, like I said . . . No more sex with Tony.’

‘Sometimes I want it and Tony’s just there!’

‘Well, you’ll just have to exercise a bit of self-control.’

‘I don’t believe in exercise.’

‘I didn’t mean that kind of exercise!’

‘Look, the small-dicked arse-wipe’s history,’ Lou said dismissively. ‘That’s why I wanted to come here tonight. Check out the fish in a new pond. See if there are any good rods to nibble.’

The women sipped their drinks and looked around the bar.

All in all, it wasn’t bad pickings, Lou thought. They were all well-heeled, suited types; not the bits of rough she preferred, but good enough for a Thursday night.

‘Fuck!’ Kate cried suddenly.

‘That’s the plan,’ Lou deadpanned.

Kate thrust her head down and hunched her shoulders.

‘Oh no! Fuck, fuck, fuck!’

Lou looked at her friend in alarm. Kate didn’t swear much, and if she did she usually just splashed about in the shallow end with the bloody hells and an occasional bugger. It took quite a lot for her to wade into the deeper waters of the F-word.

‘It’s him!’

‘Who?’ Lou peered around the bar enthusiastically.

‘Don’t look! The idiot! The horrible man I had the date with. The one who said I was fat and made a big deal about my surname.’

‘What, Sebastian?’

‘Shhhhh! Oh God, no, this can’t be happening.’

‘Where is he? Which one?’

‘Over there . . .’ Kate gestured with her eyebrows, keeping her head angled away from the rest of the room.

‘What, the cute one?’

‘
Lou!
’

‘What? I’m just saying! He’s hot!’

‘We’ve got to go,’ Kate begged. She sounded close to tears.

‘OK, just let me finish my drink.’

‘I mean,
now
! I can’t let him see me. He’d only make some horrible comment about my size.’

Lou looked at Kate sharply. ‘
You
, Kate Biggs, are gorgeous and
he
is a class-A twat. And he’s smarmy. And fake-looking, and not that hot at all. Actually, he looks like he’s got bad breath and a pencil dick.’

‘Not helping,’ Kate hissed from beneath her hair.

‘Fuck him, Kate! Don’t let him stand between you and your booze.’

‘Lou,
please
!’ Kate was almost crying now.

‘OK, OK! I just need to pay for our drinks. You go and wait outside and I’ll settle up. I’ll only be a minute.’

‘Promise? Don’t be long. He might come out and see me.’

‘I promise. Go and wait round the corner. Check out the window of Partridges’. I’ll be there in a minute.’

Kate sidestepped awkwardly across the bar, keeping her back to Sebastian and her hair tipped over her face. Eventually Lou saw her reach the front door and escape.

Lou pursed her lips, narrowed her eyes and looked at Sebastian. He was wearing an expensive suit and quaffing a glass of champagne self-importantly. He certainly looked like a twat. The too-perfect tan and salon-immaculate hair were the giveaway. ‘Wanker,’ Lou thought viciously with a thrill of savage pleasure. How dare he upset her best mate?

‘A bottle of Veuve, please.’ She grabbed a passing waitress. ‘And the bill.’

Lou smiled wickedly, not taking her eyes off Sebastian. And then she delved into her handbag for her purse, lipstick and pen.

‘Excuse me!’ Lou summoned the waitress back a few minutes later. ‘I ordered this champagne, but I’ve just had an important call and I’ve got to leave. Would you mind giving it to the gentleman over there with my compliments?’ She smiled sweetly and handed her a note and the champagne.

‘Sure!’ The waitress glanced at the paper and smiled conspiratorially. ‘He’s gorgeous, isn’t he? Good luck. I hope he rings!’

‘Oh, he will!’ Lou rose from her table and sashayed towards Sebastian. As she got closer, he abruptly stopped his conversation and appreciatively eyed her up and down. Lou slinked
her hips, fixed him with her most X-rated smile and lightly brushed against him as she headed for the door. Behind her she could hear the waitress make her approach.

‘Thank God!’ Kate breathed as Lou rounded the corner to Partridges’ department store. ‘What kept you?’

‘Let’s just say revenge is a dish best served bubbly.’ Lou smirked cryptically.

‘Wha—? Oh my God, you didn’t speak to him, did you?’ Kate panicked.

‘Of course not! I sent him over a bottle of champagne!’

Kate looked like her heart had stopped beating. ‘That man was so horrible to me. So rude, and cruel and nasty; and you sent him over
champagne
?’

‘Well, it was a bit more than just champagne.’

Something in Lou’s expression caught Kate’s eye. She stopped hyperventilating. ‘What’ve you been up to?’ she asked suspiciously.

‘I’ve just taken an old Sharon Osbourne classic and given it a Lou twist. She’s a goddess, that woman. Rewrote the rule book on man-control. Young women ought to study her autobiography like a textbook. She should be on the national curriculum. GCSEs in Shazza’s arts of ball-breaking and revenge!’

‘What are you talking about? The only revenge-thing I know about Sharon Osbourne was that she pooed in someone’s . . . Oh my God. What have you done?’

‘I pissed in his champagne!’

Kate clamped her hand over her mouth in horror.

‘I took the champagne bottle to the Ladies, poured half
down the toilet and then topped it up with a little
eau de Lou
. And then I got a waitress to take it over to Sebastian with my compliments.’

‘And he took it?’ Kate asked, fascinated..

‘Of course he took it! He’s a vain, self-centred prick! He’s too narcissistic to be suspicious.’

‘Oh my God!’ Kate thought for a moment. ‘So Sebastian’s in there
drinking your wee
?’

‘Uh-huh!’ Lou laughed. ‘And it doesn’t stop there. I also got the waitress to take him over a telephone number.’

‘What, yours?’

‘No!’

‘Oh my God, not mine?’

‘Don’t be daft! Tony’s. Tony’s home number.’

Kate looked confused. ‘I don’t get it.’

‘Ah, well, this is my second stroke of genius. Tony’s hardly ever at home, but if he does happen to be there when Sebastian calls . . .
and he will call
. . . he’s going to be totally flummoxed. Sebastian’s enough of a big-head not to be put off if a man answers the phone. He’s bound to ask for Suzy.’

‘Suzy?’

‘Yeah. I wrote her name next to the number. So, anyway, at the very least Tony’s going to be suspicious and freaked out about what his precious wife might be up to. But hopefully that’s not going to happen. Hopefully it’ll be Suzy who answers the phone, and Sebastian will thank her for the champagne and, presuming she’s got the hots for him, he’ll ask her out for dinner. And Suzy, being every bit as narcissistic as Sebastian – and probably bored rigid by her
pointless, flaccid husband – will say yes. And they’ll meet up and that will be that. Those two are made for each other. She’s a gold-digging airhead and he’s a woman-hating wallet-on-legs.’