Build a Man (20 page)

“I’m so sorry,
Kirsty. You know I’d help if I could.” I squeeze her arm, my mind
racing. There must be something I can do. For a second, I consider
bringing her over to the flat, despite Peter’s words. He’s way too
polite to kick up a fuss in front of her. But as much as I’d like
to, I can’t. It’s his flat,
his
space . . . as he’s made all
too clear since I’ve moved in. And who am I to argue? He’s the one
paying the mortgage. It’s times like this I long to have somewhere
of my own.

“Want me to
wait while you talk to Tim, and help you find a place?” I ask,
reluctant to go until I’m sure she’s okay.

Kirsty shakes
her head. “No, that’s all right. Who knows how long it’ll take?
Anyway, the bank has a corporate rate with the hotel across the
street, so I’ll just grab a taxi and head there.”

“Call me later
if you want to talk.” I scoot off the bed, little fingers of guilt
and worry jabbing at my gut. It feels so wrong, leaving her like
this.

Kirsty nods and
her shoulders lift in a huge sigh. “Okay.”

I throw my arms
around her, then head back down the stairs. “Bye, Tim,” I shout
toward the kitchen. Oh jeez, he’s still whistling. I can’t bear to
think about his reaction to Kirsty’s coming words.

Outside, the
damp air bites at my exposed skin, and I pull my coat around me. I
don’t want to head back to the flat; quite honestly, I’m still
fizzing with fury.

But there’s
nowhere else to go and the night is dark and cold, so I quicken my
pace and stride toward home.

Peter’s home,
that is.

The next day at
the clinic stretches on forever, and I can’t stop thanking my lucky
stars that it’s Friday. I’m so tired even a shot of Botox to the
brain wouldn’t perk me up. Kirsty called around one last night to
say she’d settled in at the hotel. I sigh, recalling the strained
sound in her voice when I asked how it went with Tim. She didn’t
even want to talk about it.

I couldn’t bear
to lie next to Peter, so I fidgeted on the sofa for hours as his
snores drifted from the bedroom. The low rumble – and the fact that
he was clearly enjoying a good night’s sleep – sparked off even
more irritation inside. With every passing minute, my indignation
grew, until it was a blistering spot ready to pop. For God’s sake,
it wasn’t like I’d asked the man to deliver Kirsty’s baby (there’s
an image I don’t want in my head). Underneath it all, though, that
uncomfortable feeling I’d experienced back at Kirsty’s was brewing.
What kind of relationship is this, when it’s so lopsided; when the
man I live with doesn’t really know – or, in the case of my tabloid
ambitions, seem to
care
– what’s important to me? What would
happen if I got pregnant, like Kirsty? Is Peter a man I’d want to
be with?

When Peter got
up this morning, he acted as if everything was normal, not even
clocking my less than enthusiastic grunts in his direction. We’ve
barely exchanged more than ten words today, but I don’t think he’s
noticed – adding further fuel to my growing questions. He
did
notice the few Jaffa Cake crumbs I left lying around in
retaliation, though.

At six o’clock,
the last Botox Bitch has scuttled off to her mansion in the
country, and I finally have a second to breathe before I need to
hightail it out of here to rendezvous with Mia. Jeremy agreed to
meet tonight at quarter to seven to discuss ‘dating strategies
designed to ensnare his ideal woman’, and I’ve arranged to see Mia
thirty minutes earlier at a nearby café to talk through our plan –
after she reluctantly agreed to pose as my life advisory intern
(ha!). I scan my list of questions, then cash up and yell out to
Peter that I’m leaving.

I wait for a
second, but there’s no response. Sighing, I slide off my stool and
trudge to his office.

“I’m going
now,” I say to his bowed head.

“All right.” He
doesn’t even look up from the papers on his desk.

I turn away,
dreading the thought of yet another silent, empty weekend ahead
with only a supercilious cat for company. Grabbing my bag, I head
into the street, breathing in the noise of the city.

It’s a nice
night – the air feels almost balmy for mid-October – so when I get
to the café, I plonk down at one of those shaky metal tables they
always have out front. Mia’s not here yet, thank goodness, so I get
out my notebook and pen to signal that
I’m
the one in charge
of what’s happening tonight. Sidebars and polls are one thing, but
if she thinks she can take over my relationship with Jeremy, she
has another thing coming.

My bum gets
progressively colder as time passes with no sign of Mia. I glance
at my watch. It’s almost six-thirty now. She’s fifteen minutes
late, and she hasn’t even had the courtesy to text me. Typical! I
try to stir up righteous indignation, but inside I’m just thrilled
she hasn’t turned up. It’s much better if I get Jeremy to myself –
for research purposes, of course. He’s comfortable with me, and
adding someone new to the mix could make things awkward.

At quarter to
seven on the dot, I gather up my things and round the corner to
Welbeck Street and number nineteen. Again I’m struck by the
gleaming white facade of Jeremy’s house – even more impressive now
that I know he renovated the whole thing himself. Through the open
window, voices drift from inside. I stand on tiptoe, trying to peer
through the glass. Who’s in there?

I’m just about
to ring the buzzer when I hear a tinkly laugh that sounds
suspiciously like Mia’s, with Jeremy’s low guffaw booming in
return.

Anger shoots
through me and I jab at the buzzer so hard my finger feels like it
will snap in half.

“Serenity! Come
in. We were wondering where you were.” Jeremy’s eyes are dancing
and his face is rosy. He looks more animated than I’ve ever seen
him.

“I was waiting
for Mia at the café, like we’d planned.” I try to keep my tone
light. “Oh, there she is!” I act surprised, but inside I’m fuming.
She
knew
we were supposed to meet at the café, and she
deliberately kept me waiting so she could ambush Jeremy.

Mia smiles up
at me from where she’s draped over the sofa in a ‘lady of the
manor’ pose that immediately sets my teeth on edge. With her
perfectly casual outfit of jeans and a skin-tight turtleneck –
finished off with platformed riding boots I could never wear
without resembling a hick farmer – she fits right in here. In my
boring ensemble of black trousers and white blouse, I look like I
should be serving in the kitchen.

“Sorry, I guess
I got the details mixed up. Were you waiting long?” Her eyes are
wide but I’m not fooled. Judging by the empty wine glass in her
hand, she’s obviously been here for a while.

“Here you go,
Serenity.” Jeremy hands me a glass of red wine and I take a sip,
trying to get my emotions back under control. The last thing I want
is for Mia to think she’s upset me or thrown me off kilter. My eyes
narrow as Jeremy squeezes beside Mia on the sofa. She scoots even
closer to him then looks over at me, a triumphant gleam in her
eyes. An uncomfortable feeling presses against my stomach and I
gulp my drink. If ever there was a need for wine therapy, it’s
definitely now.

I clear my
throat and whip out my notepad and recorder, trying not to look at
Mia edging closer and closer to Jeremy. “Well, let’s get started.
Jeremy, can you tell me what you look for in a woman?”

Jeremy shrugs.
“Sure, but I just answered that question for Mia. She said you
would pool your notes.”

Mia smiles
smugly over the top of her wine glass. “Since you weren’t here, I
thought I’d get started. I didn’t want to keep Jeremy waiting.”

“If you
wouldn’t mind repeating your response, Jeremy, just so I can get it
on the recorder. It’s important for your files.” I keep my voice
even and calm, but I can’t wait to get Mia alone after we’re done
here. Who the hell does she think she is, taking over my
interview?

“No problem,”
Jeremy says easily. “Well, my ideal woman is someone who doesn’t
take herself too seriously. You know, who can laugh and have a bit
of fun. Who’s not afraid to get mussed up or dirty.” His eyes lock
onto mine, and that strange feeling he’s seeing straight into me
returns. I feel my cheeks start to colour, and I quickly drop my
head to scrawl notes on my pad.

“Great, great.
What about appearance?”

Jeremy shrugs.
“I don’t really have a type. Just someone I like the look of, I
guess.”

“Didn’t you say
you like the typical
English
woman?” Mia interrupts.

“English or
American. Or, er, African, whatever,” Jeremy says quickly. “It
doesn’t really matter where they’re from. Just as long as we
click.”

“How do you
define ‘click’?” I ask, curious.

“I don’t know
if it can be defined,” Jeremy says. “It’s just, you know, when
someone’s easy to talk to. When I feel really comfortable with
them.” He gazes into the distance. “As much as I loved her, I never
had that with Julia. I always felt on edge, like I had to live up
to her expectations. To be someone I’m not.”

I nod as the
thought that I always feel on edge around Peter niggles at me.

“So what is
your dream date?” I ask, pushing Peter out of my head.

“Well, it would
have to be something to do with food,” Jeremy responds, lips
lifting in a smile. Mia mumbles something under her breath I can’t
quite catch, and I throw her an evil look. “I’ve always thought if
you can feel comfortable sharing a meal with someone, it says a lot
about your connection on a deeper level.”

Mia snorts and
Jeremy shrugs, an embarrassed expression on his face. “Anyway, all
this isn’t going to help me with my dating skills,” he says, moving
away from the probing emotional questions. He looks at me
expectantly, as if I can wave my magic wand and transform him into
a leading contender in the world’s
Next Top Lothario
.

“Um . . . let’s
do some role-play,” I say. “Just pretend I’m someone you’re
interested in.” I can feel my cheeks tingeing red again. Oh Lord.
“How would you approach me? What would you say?”

Jeremy’s face
is pinking up, too. “You want me to do it right now?”

Nodding, I
stare at a spot over his shoulder to avoid meeting those green
eyes. “We’ll assess your skills first, then work with you to
improve them.” Like I’m someone who can assess dating skills. My
dating skills usually consist of paying the bill when the guy
sticks me with it at the end.

“Okay,” Jeremy
says slowly. He walks self-consciously over to where I’m sitting,
then loops his thumbs in his pockets and rocks back and forth on
the balls of his feet. “Hello. I’m Jeremy. I noticed you from
across the room and I wanted to come say hi. Would you care for a
drink?” His face is flaming now and sweat is beading on his
brow.

“Sure. That
would be great!” I warble like a parakeet on speed. God, if only it
were that easy. I don’t think anyone has ever asked to buy me a
drink, although my ex in Harris did get me hooked by offering a
Creme Egg. Sadly, that was a one-time deal and the free sweets
dried up once we started dating.

“Aw, aren’t you
two cute,” Mia oozes. “Jeremy, that approach might work with a few
losers here and there.” She raises an eyebrow at me. “But if you
really want the right woman, I can show you how it’s done.” Mia
uncurls her long legs and gets to her feet, sashaying over to
Jeremy, who looks terrified.

“Hello there,”
she purrs, putting a hand on his arm and sliding it up and down. A
small pang of something I can’t identify stirs inside. I want to
look away, but my eyes are glued to the tableau before me.

“I’m going to
buy you a drink. And you’re going to like it. And then we’re going
to go back to my place and–”

“That’s fine!”
I yelp before she can go any further. Jeremy’s staring at Mia with
an expression of horror, slowly backing away. “Um, I think that’s
more of an advanced method.” For complete skanks
.
“Jeremy
needs to start out at a basic level and get confident with that.
And I, for one, think his method is fine.”

“You would.”
Mia rolls her eyes. “Look, I’ve got to get going,
boss
.
There’s a party in Shoreditch I was supposed to be at half an hour
ago. Goodbye, Jeremy. Lovely to meet you.” She kisses Jeremy’s
cheek, then turns and strides for the door. Stumbling to my feet, I
rush after her.

“Hang on, I
need to talk to you for a second,” I hiss through gritted teeth,
grabbing her arm before she can reach for the door handle. No way
is she getting away with leaving me back at the café while she
chatted up Jeremy.

Mia turns to
face me. “What?”

“About that
stunt you pulled earlier.” I step back so I’m not staring at her
neck. Thank God I have on my high heels or I’d be looking at her
chest.

Mia feigns an
innocent expression. “What?”

I roll my eyes.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. We were supposed to meet
earlier to discuss our plan. But you went right to Jeremy’s without
even telling me.” I straighten my spine to try to gain some height.
“
Build a Man
is my column. You’re only an intern – and
you’re only here to help. Remember that.” I stare at her
meaningfully, noting with satisfaction that she’s momentarily
stunned into silence. Ha! I can be serious and scary when I want to
be.

But the silence
only lasts seconds before Mia breaks out in a snorty laugh. “Don’t
get your knickers in a twist.” Shaking her head, she wags a finger
at me like I’m a puppy who peed on the floor. Next thing you know,
she’ll be rapping me on the head with a rolled-up newspaper.
“Aren’t you just an unpaid contributor? That puts you at the same
level as me – lower, in fact, because at least the paper covers my
Tube fare. Don’t worry, darling. I don’t have any grand designs on
your little column. Feel free to slave away and write the whole
thing. I’m happy being backup.”