Marian Keyes - Lucy Sullivan Is Getting Married (48 page)

My transformation couldn't be the immediate, miraculous one that she expected. "Decent men are in short enough supply as it is--why should I suddenly meet a gorgeous one who worships the ground that I walk on just because I've found out my father's an alcoholic?"

"You will." She was adamant.

"Listen to me," said Karen. "If there's a rich, good-looking man there, he's got my name on him."

The word Daniel hovered unspoken between Karen and me.

Then fearless Karen spoke it.

"Do you remember when I thought there was something going on with you and Daniel?" she asked with a menacing laugh. "Although I'm still not convinced that you haven't secretly got the hots for him.

"Not that it'll do you any good," she continued. "Let's face it, Lucy." She flicked her sophisticated blond glance over my short, flat-chested body. I automatically obliged her by feeling ashamed and worthless. "You're not exactly his type, are you?"

Indeed I wasn't. It was official--he had told me so. The memory of the night he had turned me down was at the forefront of my mind.

81 At the party I spotted him immediately--the one I would have picked in my former existence. He was young, with sun-bleached surfer's hair, which was long enough to indi 572 / marian keyes

cate that he wasn't a stockbroker. He was handsome and unreliable looking, with bright sparkly eyes. The sparkliness of his eyes had probably been achieved by chemical means. You could tell, just by looking at him, that he had never been on time for anything in his life.

His sweater was what I would have once described as individual and unique, when the word horrible would have sufficed. He was loud and lively and in the middle of telling a story that involved great sweeps of his arms. The group of people around him were all laughing uncontrollably but then again they all looked like drug addicts. He was probably telling them about one of the times he was arrested, I thought uncharitably.

I pulled myself up short. When did I get to be so bitter? It wasn't right to lump every badly dressed, long-haired young man in the same category as Gus. This blond guy might be kind and generous with a good heart and lots of money.

I stared at him, and thought, "You know, he is cute."

He caught me looking at him, and winked and grinned at me. I turned away.

A few minutes later, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around and it was him--the cute, loud, sun-bleached jailbird.

"Hello," he said loudly. His eyes were an amazing glittery silver color. The pattern on his sweater could have brought on an epileptic fit.

"Hello." I smiled. I couldn't help it, it was completely automatic.

"I spotted you from across the room." He grinned. "And I spotted that you were spotting me too. I wondered if you'd like to come out to the conservatory with me to smoke a joint or twenty..."

His voice trailed away as I just stared at him. I didn't lucy sullivan is getting married / 573

mean to be rude but I had to check my vital signs to see if I was attracted to him. But nothing happened, I was stone cold.

"Er...maybe not...just a suggestion." He backed away from me, his smile replaced by a look of nervous apprehension. "Stupid thing to say, because I don't have any drugs, never touch them--`Just say no,' that's my motto...."

He bolted back to his friends and I heard him telling them that I was an undercover policewoman. They looked collectively ashen and, as a single body, shuffled from the room.

Whatever he thought he had seen in me--the signal that I used to give out to attract men like him--had gone. It was only the ghost of it that had flickered briefly and lured him in error.

Pity, though, because he really was very cute.

Later on, I heard someone complain that there was no one at the party to buy any drugs from. I had the grace to feel guilty.

It was an awful party, the neighbors didn't even call the police. The music was terrible, there was almost nothing to drink, and not a single at- tractive man.

None that I liked the look of anyway.

Karen got her knickers all in a twist because of some big, beefy guy whose dad was rumored to be loaded. And, in her usual determined manner, she found someone who knew someone who knew someone who knew the big, beefy guy and ended up speaking to him.

Charlotte and I sat on the sofa while all the people milling around com- pletely ignored us. I was bored out of my skull. Charlotte kept up a running commentary on everyone there. "See him, Lucy, the way he's got his arms by his side--a classic anal tentative," and, "See her, 574 / marian keyes

Lucy, desperate for affection--probably wasn't breastfed."

And I muttered, "It's retentive," and, "That's her husband she's holding hands with."

How I rued the day Charlotte had ever gotten her hands on my Psycho- logy for Miserable Women books.

The tedium continued. But at least there was the walk to find a cab to look forward to.

Karen flitted by with the human steak.

"Girls," she said to Charlotte and me, in her put-on I'm-so-charming voice, "this is Tom. He wanted to be introduced to the two of you--God knows why!"

Charlotte and I laughed. Because we knew there would be trouble later if we didn't.

"Tom, this is Charlotte and this is Lucy."

Up close he wasn't so bad, really. Brown eyes, brown hair, quite a kind face. It was just that I couldn't stop imagining him covered with pepper sauce.

The person beside me on the couch got up because their friend had col- lapsed in the bathroom. And Tom asked Karen if she wanted to sit down.

"No," she said. Because she wanted to stand beside him, of course.

"Are you sure?" he asked puzzled.

"Quite." She laughed gaily up at him. "I love to stand."

"Okay," he said, really puzzled by then. And, to Karen's slack-jawed horror, he sat down beside me.

Quick as a flash, in a damage control exercise, Karen perched on the arm of the sofa, beside Charlotte. Actually, she really sat on Charlotte. Then she leaned across us so that she could talk to T-bone, almost obscuring Charlotte and me.

But she was wasting her time. lucy sullivan is getting married / 575

"I'm so glad I met Karen," said Tom to me.

I smiled politely.

"Because," he continued. "I've been watching you all evening and I've been trying to pluck up the courage to come and talk to you."

I smiled politely again.

Christ! Karen would kill me.

"So I couldn't believe my luck when I ended up speaking to your friend."

"What's this?" Karen smiled.

"I'm just telling Lucy how glad I am that I got talking to you," said Tom.

Karen tossed her hair back in a gesture of triumph.

"I've spent the whole night wondering how I could get to meet Lucy," he continued.

Karen froze mid-toss. Even the strands of her hair were rigid. She turned a Lucy-you-will-die-for-this-you-bitch face on me.

I shrunk back into the couch. A few days later I heard that all the plants in the house died that night.

And it wasn't as if I found Tom even remotely attractive--after all, I was almost vegetarian.

"I'm glad I was of use to you, Tom," said Karen corrosively. She stood up and stalked across the room.

Tom and I looked at each other, him in shock, me in fear. Then we both burst out laughing.

It was typical that Tom liked me. Because I didn't like him. I hadn't even noticed him. I had always found that the best way to get men interested in me was not to like them. But I had to mean it--faking it never worked. Men always knew that when I ignored them and lifted my chin haughtily, I was actually dying for it. (I quote.)

Charlotte--obviously on a death wish--ran after Karen, so I talked to meaty Tom. I was touched by his little 576 / marian keyes

confession about being too nervous to talk to me, etc., etc. And he seemed nice. But of course he did--he wanted to get me into bed. I almost shuddered at the thought--he was so big, it would be like having sex with a bull.

Not like Daniel--he was big, but nice big. Idly, I wondered where he was that evening. I suddenly had a horrible thought--maybe he was at another party, doing a Tom, trying to persuade a girl to come home with him. My stomach clenched in fear and I had a panicky urge to call him in the hope that I might find him at home in bed--alone.

"Oh no," I said to myself in horror, "I warned you this might happen." After all I'd said, had I become too dependent on Daniel?

I forced myself to sit still--I couldn't just call him and ask if he was in bed with someone. And, while I was on the subject, why did I want to?

That scared me into calming down. I had never been possessive about Daniel. I had never minded who he talked to, who he seduced, who he took home to his bed and whose clothes he took off and...

The panicky fear began to rise again. He had been without a girlfriend for a long time--and it couldn't go on forever. He was bound to meet some nice woman at some stage. But if he started going out with someone, what would happen to me? Where would I fit into his life?

What was going on, I wondered in fear. I was acting as if I was jealous, as if...as if...as if I liked him. No, no, I wouldn't think it! I WOULD NOT THINK IT. I nearly screamed it out loud.

My mind lurched back to the present. I tried to focus on poor Tom, be- cause he had asked me a question and seemed to be eagerly waiting for an answer.

"What?" I asked. I felt slightly sick. lucy sullivan is getting married / 577

"Lucy, can I take you out some night?"

"But I don't like you, Tom," I blurted out. In fact, what I actually said was, "I don't like you."

He looked a little bit taken aback.

"Sorry," I said. "I wasn't thinking..."

But I had been thinking. I had become too possessive of Daniel and Daniel obviously knew it. He probably thought I had a crush on him. The nerve of him.

"I only want to take you out for dinner, Lucy," Tom said humbly. "Do you have to like me for that?"

"Sorry, Tom."

I could barely speak to him. Daniel wanted to get rid of me, I realized. That was what all that about me having to start living again was about. Little mermaid, indeed! He was just trying to prize my clinging hands from him, finger by finger. I felt a fierce burst of humiliation, which quickly be- came anger. Fine then, I thought in fury, I'd have nothing further to do with Daniel. I'd get a new boyfriend and that'd show him. I'd go out with Tom and we'd fall in love and be really happy.

"Tom, I'd be delighted to go out with you," I said. I wished that I was dead.

"That's great." Tom beamed. If I hadn't felt so sorry for him, it would have been nice to hit him.

"When?" I tried to force some enthusiasm into my voice.

"Now?" he asked hopefully.

With a scathing raise of an eyebrow I managed to convey that Tom was in danger of dying shortly.

"Sorry," he said in fear. "Sorry, sorry, sorry. Tomorrow night?"

"Okay."

It was a done deal. And just in time, for the party keeled over and died.

Perhaps I felt relieved, but I tried not to think about it. That was easy because the atmosphere between Karen and me was terrible. She wouldn't speak to me and she did regular tours of the apartment where she went to the time and trouble to open all the doors just so she could slam them shut again.

It was very unpleasant. And I bitterly regretted having said that I'd go out with Tom. I must have been out of my mind--he was awful and Karen was welcome to him. I knew for a fact that I wouldn't fall in love with him and prove anything to Daniel.

The terrible fear that Daniel had met a new woman had come sneaking back while I slept. I was sure that the terror that I'd felt the previous night had been a premonition. It was no longer just a thought--it had mutated into a premonition.

I tried to talk sense into myself as I got ready to go out. I was fairly sure that I didn't like Daniel, as such. It wasn't a romantic or sexual thing that I felt for him. Immediately, memories of The Kiss flooded back unin

578 lucy sullivan is getting married / 579

vited but I blanked them out. (I was still so good at blanking things out--it really was a wonderful ability.) But perhaps I had come to depend on him too much as a friend? In the aftermath of the disintegration of my family had I become too fond of him?

Well, if I had, it must stop.

I was pleased with myself for being so sensible. Although it only lasted a moment. The panic started again immediately.

But what if he's in bed with her right now? I thought.

In the end I called him. I simply couldn't stop myself. I pretended that I had called to check where I was meeting him--even though I knew it was Green Park tube at two o'clock. And, to my relief, it didn't sound as if there was a woman in bed beside him. Although it was hard to be cer- tain--Daniel's life wasn't a porno film where women shriek and giggle while they're in bed.

It was a godsend being in the doghouse with Karen, because I didn't have to make up some elaborate excuse when I left to meet Daniel. If she had been speaking to me she would have definitely been suspicious because, in an attempt to show Daniel that I wasn't a clingy loser, I was dressed to the nines. My very short dress and matching swingy coat were hardly ap- propriate protection from the bitterly cold March day, but I didn't care. Pride would keep me warm.

He was waiting outside Green Park tube at the appointed time. As I wobbled, shivering, toward him on my high snakeskin sandals he gave me a smile of such dazzling intensity that it nearly knocked me over. I was annoyed--and very suspicious. What was he grinning about? Was it the delight of having a new girlfriend that made his smile so broad? Was it a post-coital glow that made him look so gorgeous? 580 / marian keyes

"Lucy, you look beautiful," he said. Then he kissed me on the cheek and my skin tightened and tingled. "But aren't you cold?"

"Not at all," I said vaguely, as I discreetly examined him for lovebites, chapped lips, scratches, etc.

"Where are we going, Lucy?" he asked.

I couldn't see any obvious signs of recent sexual activity on him, but as most of him was bundled up in a winter coat, that was no reason for me to breathe a sigh of relief.

"It's a surprise," I said, as I wondered if he had his coat collar up to hide a neckful of hickeys. "Come on, let's hurry, I'm freezing!"

Damn! Our eyes met and his mouth twitched as he tried not to laugh.

"Don't even think about it," I threatened.

"I wouldn't," he said humbly.

I led him to Arbroath Street and when we reached the glass front of Shore, I said "Dah, daah!"

He was impressed and I was happy. Shore was one of London's newest, grooviest restaurants, frequented by models and actresses. Or so the magazines said--this would be my first and probably my last visit.

As soon as we walked in, I realized that I had gravely underestimated just how groovy and happening a place Shore was. The rudeness of the staff gave it away.

The host, a young saturnine man, stared at me as if I had just squatted down in the entrance and urinated.

"Yes?" he hissed.

"A table for two in the name of..."

"Do you have a reservation?" he snapped.

Immediately I wanted to say, "Look, you little asshole, you're only a re- ceptionist, you know. I'm sorry that I'm going to spend more on a meal than you get paid in a week, but ruining our lunch isn't going to bring about a lucy sullivan is getting married / 581

redistribution of wealth. Have you thought about night classes? You could go back to school and try passing a couple of exams. Then you might get a real job."

But because it was Daniel's birthday and I wanted everything to go beautifully, I humbly said, "Yes, I made a reservation. The name is Sulli- van."

But I spoke to thin air. He had emerged from behind his little podium and was air-kissing a woman in Gucci flares who had come in after us.

"Kiki, darling," he fawned. "How was Barbados?"

"You know--Barbados." She pushed past me. "We're just off the plane. David's parking the beemer."

She surveyed the restaurant. Daniel and I obligingly pressed ourselves back against the wall.

"Just the two of us," she said. "A window table would be nice."

"Did you...er...make a reservation?" He discreetly coughed.

"Oh, naughty me." She smiled icily. "I should have called you on the car phone. But I have every faith in you, Raymond."

"Er, it's Maurice," said Raymond. He pronounced it "Mor-eece."

"Whatever." She waved a hand dismissively. "Just get us a table and fast. David's starving."

"Don't worry, we'll squeeze you in somewhere." He giggled. "Leave it to Mor-eece."

He consulted his book. Daniel and I merged with the wallpaper. Even though there wasn't any.

"Let's see," muttered Maurice anxiously. "Table ten should be just about leaving..."

He continued to ignore Daniel and me.

I hate you, I thought.

If I had been alone I would have waited forever. But 582 / marian keyes

because we were there for Daniel's birthday, and I wanted him to have a good time, I decided to take matters into my own hands.

"Excuse me, Maurice"--I pronounced it "Morris"--"Daniel's starving, in fact he's nearly as hungry as David. We'd like to go to our table, please. The one we reserved."

Daniel burst out laughing. Maurice glared at me, snapped up two menus and gave Kiki a "Christ, can you believe it?" look. He set off across the restaurant at high speed. For some reason he seemed to have a penny between his tiny buttocks, and he took great pains not to drop it. Clenched. Very clenched.

He slung the menus on a little table and disappeared. He couldn't get away from us quickly enough. Ordinary people, ugh!

Daniel and I sat down. Daniel laughed and laughed.

"That was great, Lucy," he said.

"Sorry about that, Daniel." I felt quite tearful. "I want you to really enjoy this because it's your birthday and you've been very good to me and I've so much to thank you for and what did you do last night?"

"Sorry?" He looked confused. "What did I do last night?"

"Um, yes," I said. I hadn't meant to blurt it out like that.

"I went for a couple of pints with Chris."

"And who else?"

"No one else."

Phew.

The relief was great for about thirty seconds. Until I realized that there were thousands more Saturday nights in the future, stretching out into in- finity. And on every single one of them there was a chance that Daniel would meet a woman. lucy sullivan is getting married / 583

That subdued me so much that I could barely listen to him. He was saying something about us going to see some comedian that evening.

"No, Daniel, wait," I said quickly. "I can't go out with you tonight."

"Can't you?"

Was he disappointed? I wondered hopefully.

"I've got a hot date," I said.

"Really? That's great, Lucy." Did he have to sound so bloody happy for me?"

"Yes, it is great." I felt defensive and angry. "He's not drunk and penni- less. He has a job and a car and Karen even liked him."

"Great," he said--again!

I nodded curtly.

"Well done," he said enthusiastically.

Well done? I thought angrily. Have I been that pathetic?

The day had suddenly clouded over. I sat in silence. Birthday or no birthday, I felt much too angry to be nice to him.

"So I won't be seeing quite so much of you from now on," I said.

"I understand, Lucy," he said nicely.

I wanted to cry.

I sat and sullenly stared at the table. Daniel must have picked up on my mood because, unusually for him, he also became very subdued.

Despite the rudeness of the staff, the lunch was not a success. The food was nice, but I didn't want to eat it. I was too pissed off with Daniel. How dare he be glad for me? As if I was handicapped or something.

Luckily, the horribleness of the staff gave Daniel and me something to talk about. Every single one of them was so patronizing, condescending and good, plain, old 584 / marian keyes

fashioned rude that toward the end of the meal we began to tentatively communicate again.

"Asshole." Daniel gave me a little smile as our waiter ignored us when we wanted to order coffee.

"Stupid bastard," I smilingly agreed.

When the bill came we scuffled over it.

"No, Daniel," I insisted. "This is on me, for your birthday."

"If you're sure?"

"I'm sure." I smiled. But not for long when I saw how much I had to pay.

"Let me pay half," suggested Daniel when he saw my appalled expres- sion.

"No way."

More scuffles. Daniel tried to grab the bill from my hand, I pulled it away from him,. etc., etc. In the end he graciously let me pay.

"Thanks for a lovely lunch, Lucy," he said.

"It wasn't lovely, though, was it?" I asked sadly.

"Yes, it was," he said stoutly. "I wanted to come here and now I know what it's like."

"Promise me something, Daniel," I asked fervently.

"Anything."

"That you will never knowingly, willingly come here again."

"I promise, Lucy."

I walked him to the tube station, then I walked to the bus stop. I felt very depressed.

Tom was the perfect gentleman.

He rang my doorbell at seven exactly, as arranged. And, as arranged, he didn't come up to the apartment. What he lacked in graceful, elegant, emaciated good looks he more than made up for in the instinct of self- preservation. He lucy sullivan is getting married / 585

was no fool, and he suspected that Karen was a sore and vengeful loser.

I ran downstairs to where he waited in his car. I got a slight shock when I saw him sitting behind the wheel. There was nothing wrong--it was just that he looked as if he'd be more at home hanging from a butcher's hook. He made it worse by wearing a red shirt. I hoped he would never get his nose pierced.

He took me to a restaurant--the same Emperor's New Clothes restaurant that I'd taken Daniel to for lunch. Maurice was still on duty. He stared with loathing and disbelief when Tom stampeded through the door and pawed the ground with me at his side.

Tom wined and dined me, then tried to get me to go back to his apart- ment, with a view to sixty-nining me, I suppose.

He didn't have a chance.

Nice guy, but I wouldn't have bedded him if he was the last man on the planet. And he loved me for it. His eyes shone with admiration as I turned him down.

"Would you like to go out during the week?" he asked eagerly. "We could go to the theater."

"Maybe," I agreed doubtfully.

"Well, it doesn't have to be the theater," he said anxiously. "We could go bowling. Or go-karting. Whatever you like, really."

"I'll see," I said. I felt bad. "I'll call you."

"Okay," he said. "Here's my number. And here's my work number. And here's my mobile. And here's my fax number. And here's my e-mail ad- dress. And here's my real address.

"Thank you."

"Call anytime," he said, fervently. "Anytime at all. Day or night."