The Debt & the Doormat (39 page)

I glance out into the garden and jump guiltily when I see Jazz looking around for me.  I creep into the kitchen cupboard where she can't find me.

‘Look Ollie, you could turn up later for the barbeque, but you’d have to accidentally turn up.’

‘Accidentally?  But you just invited me.’

‘Jesus, are you that dense?  Jazz won't want me inviting you.  Just turn up and say you popped in to see me and then maybe Jazz will talk to you.’

‘Ok, got it.  Thanks Sis, I owe you.’

‘Understatement of the year.’

I hang up and imagine him thanking me in the wedding speech.  ‘And of course we wouldn’t have gotten here today if I wasn’t for my fabulous sister and her amazing meddling.’

The cupboard door swings open and I scream, jumping out of my skin.

‘Pops?’ Jazz says, a confused expression on her face.  ‘What the hell are you doing in the cupboard?’

‘Oh...I just thought it was…a bit cosy in there.’  I smile brightly, hoping she’ll buy it.

‘Riiiiight,’ she smirks.

‘Did I tell you I spoke to Ollie earlier?’

‘Oh really,’ she says, pursing her lips together.  ‘Telling you about that slut he got with, was he?’

‘No.  He was just chatting.  He said how much he missed you actually.’

‘Well obviously he misses me.  I’m fabulous.  It's just a shame it's taken so long for him to realise that.’

‘Better late than never though right?’ I ask desperately. 

‘Nope.  That ships sailed.  Any chance he had with me has gone.  I’m not interested anymore.’

Then why is it she’s biting her hair?  She always does that when she’s confused or nervous.

‘OK, whatever you say.’

Maybe in hindsight I shouldn’t have invited Ollie.

*
                            *                            *

‘This really is a delicious pizza.  Jazz, where did you get the recipe?’ I ask in mocking tones.

‘Ha ha!  It's not my fault I burnt everything.’

‘Really?  Because I thought you cooked it?’ Ryan adds, grinning.

‘Yes, but....Well, I’m not used to cooking meat am I?  Everyone always forgets that I’m a veggie.  It's too inconvenient for them.’

Oh, here we go.  Jazz is going to play the ‘I’m a veggie and no-one understands me,’ card.   

‘And the jacket potato?’ Ryan asks, trying to hide a giant smile breaking out on his face.

‘Just shut up!’  She flicks her hair, looking the other way.

‘Anyway, this pizza really is lovely.  I’m kind of glad you burnt it,’ Izzy says, smiling kindly at Jazz, as she moves the take-away box.

‘Well thank you Izzy’.  She turns to glare back at both of us.  ‘Nice to know
someone
cares about my feelings.’

‘I’m just glad they’ve started doing salads at Pizzamia,’ Grace says, as she tucks into her Caesar salad with no dressing. 

I mean, who orders a salad from a pizza place?  A mental case, that's who.

A knock on the door startles me.  Shit, I’d completely forgotten about Ollie.  Whoops.  Please don't hate me Jazz.

‘I’ll get it,’ Jazz says, bouncing into the house.

I lean back and try to quickly make a nice memory of tonight, before Jazz throws a hissy fit and falls out with me forever.  Whenever I’m having a great time I try to sit back and remember everything.  Like the smell of baked dough pizza and garlic bread.  The sound of Jazz’s Mariah Carey album that she’s insisted on playing, wine being poured and Izzy’s giggles.  If Grace weren’t here it really would be the perfect evening.

‘Look who it is,’ Jazz says sarcastically, as Ollie follows her out into the garden.  She glares at me, seeing through me immediately, completely aware of my plan.  I stare back at her as innocently as I can manage.

‘Hi Ollie!  I didn’t know you were coming round!’ I say, a little too dramatically. 

‘Yeah, just one of those spur of the moment things,’ he grins.

‘This is my brother Oliver everyone.  Izzy, Grace, Ryan,’ I point round, ‘and of course you know Jazz.’

‘Hi,’ he smiles charismatically around at everyone.  ‘Pops, I thought you said you were having a barbeque?’ he asks.

Damn it Ollie!  Way to blow my cover.  He’s not supposed to know it was a barbeque!

‘It was,’ Ryan says, ‘but Jazz burnt it, so we had to order a take-away.’

Oliver chuckles.  ‘Let me guess, she used the “I’m a veggie” excuse?’

‘So you know her well then,’ Ryan says, laughing freely at her.

Jazz goes and sits back in her chair.  She decides to glare at Ollie, while seeming to still act like she doesn’t really care.  Which I know she does. 

After another hour or so, the drink is flowing and everyone is getting on well.  Ryan and Ollie seem to be hitting it off, talking about the latest BMW on the market.  Grace sits next to him, her claws possessively on his thigh.  Jazz has somehow moved to sit next to Ollie and is wrapped up in his oversized grey cardigan.  She’s clearly trying to pretend that she’s not interested anymore, but the chemistry between them is undeniable. 

Izzy has persuaded our neighbours Ralf and Karen to join us.  They’re both in their forties, with no children or pets.  Which I myself find a little strange.  I mean, fair enough – maybe they could never have children.  But wouldn’t you want an animal?  A few cats or maybe even a bird or some goldfish?  They keep commenting on how we should make the most of our young lives while we can.  They look so prim and proper I can never imagine them being young and reckless. 

‘Well enjoy it while you can,’ Ralf says, glugging his red wine, ‘because believe me, once you’re married it's over.’

‘It's over?  That's a bit of a pessimistic way to look at it, isn’t it Ralf?’ Karen asks him, laughing nervously.

‘Is it Karen?  Because since we got married I’ve had to give up all of my hobbies.’

‘All of your hobbies?  Do you mean sitting in your pants and scratching your balls while watching Deal or No Deal?’ Karen retorts. 

Mortification floods over his face and his bottom lip starts to wobble.  Awkward silence fills the table and everyone looks away, as if to pretend we didn’t just witness it.

A knock on the door makes us all look up.

‘I’ll get it!’ Lilly shouts, running as fast as she can inside before someone else can beat her to it.

‘Well maybe that was the one thing I had left to look forward to in my life.  I mean, it's not like we even have sex anymore!’

Wow.  One point to Ralf.  Jazz stares at me, willing me to say something.  I instead decide to run for it. 

‘I’m gonna go lie down for a while.’  I head for the gazebo, ignoring Jazz’s look which pleads with me not to leave her. 

I throw off my flip flops and lay under it, staring up at the twinkle lights that I’ve set into it.  It really does look fantastic.  Maybe I should be an interior designer.  But I’m not sure if I could do all of the fake ‘hi darling, mwah, mwah’ crap.  Thank God it's quieter down here.  Karen and Ralf’s argument seems like only a buzz of light conversation from here. 

‘You did a great job,’ Ryan says, suddenly appearing.

I jump and try to regain my composure as he lies down next to me.

‘Oh thanks.’  I turn to face him, feeling the same electric atmosphere which is always charging between us.

‘I mean, I suppose you felt guilty for getting me shot,’ he smirks.

What an ungrateful little shit head.  I’m here landscaping his garden like some kind of pathetic wife, while Grace swans around pressing her boobs against him and I’m just supposed to let him treat me like shit?  Is he for real!?  Anger bubbles up inside me.  How dare he treat me like this and think he can get away with it.  Who does he think he is?

‘You know what?  I’ve had enough of you being rude to me.  So what, I might have somehow...in a roundabout way, got you shot.  But I mean, I didn’t pull the bloody trigger!  I didn’t force you to intervene!  In fact, I think I was the one trying to stop you.  But, oh no!  You had to act like a stupid hero and nearly get yourself killed.  Well, did you think about me?  Did you think about your Grandma?  Of course not!  You were thinking of yourself!’ I almost scream.

I sit back, shocked by my own outburst, still panting from the rant.  I suddenly feel very self-conscious as he stares at me, a blank look on his face.

‘I was going to say that you didn’t need to though.  I already forgave you,’ he smirks.

‘You’re....so full of yourself,’ I exclaim, exhaling sharply.  ‘Could this not just be me wanting to give you all a nice garden?’

He looks at me for a moment, trying to figure me out.  I start to feel sick.  He’s just so close.

‘No.  I’m pretty sure it was because you felt guilty,’ he grins.

‘Ok, OK.  Maybe it was a little bit.’  I laugh and tickle him lightly on his stomach.

God, its firm. 

‘You know I’m not ticklish,’ he says, looking at me disapprovingly.

‘Really?  I thought everyone was?’

‘No.  Not me,’ he says, shaking his head, as if it be ridiculous to think someone as strong as him could have any weakness. 

‘Wait.  Does that mean you are?’  A mischievous smile spreads over his face. 

‘Er...no,’ I say, my body tensing. 

‘Really?  Maybe I should check.’  He leans in, his hand reaching towards me.

‘No!’ I scream, tensing my body and attempting to make a run for it.

But it's too late.  He throws me back on the duvet and his fingers caress the skin on the side of my stomach, having the same effect as a feather duster.  Oh my God, I’ve forgotten the pain of being tickled.  It's unbearable.

‘Stop!  Please stop!’ I shout between giggles.

Why do I always giggle when I’m being tickled?  It's not even funny – it's agony! 

‘What do you say?’ he says, climbing over me, his legs straddling me.

If we were in a normal situation then I’d be having heart failure at him on top of me, but the tickling is too much.  I’m using all of my mental energy not to pee my pants.  Please don't pee your pants!

‘What?  What!?’ I shout as I writhe in torment underneath him, hitting him in the chest and trying to grab his hands away from me.

‘You say,’ he pins my arms over my head, ‘Ryan, you are amazing.  You are the king of the castle.’

‘Don't be ridiculous,’ I laugh.

I kick my legs, in a desperate hope to hurt him or get him off me, but he’s just so strong.  I’m helpless against him.

‘Well then,’ he says, tickling me with his left hand, while still managing to pin me down with the other.  ‘Shall we see if you’re ticklish under your arms?’

He brushes his hands against my arm pit and my skin tingles so much I’m sure it's going to burst.

‘Seriously!  I’m going to pee myself!  Please!’ I plead.

‘Just a few little words,’ he whispers in my face, so close I can feel his breath on mine.

‘Never!’ I shout, playing along, suddenly aware that I don't really want him off me. 

I mean, sure I might be in agony.  But Ryan is on top of me, not letting me go and touching me all over.  It could definitely be worse.

‘Fine.  Then you’ll eat some grass too.’  He rips some out of the ground and starts trying to stuff it in my mouth.  I wriggle my head around and lock my mouth shut.  He won't be able to get it in.  Not if I can help it.

‘Open wide,’ he says, plugging my nose shut with his hand. 

I hold my breath for as long as I can, my own stubbornness willing me on, but even I can't hold it forever.  I eventually breathe out and as I quickly inhale again he stuffs grass in my mouth.  I spit it out, the taste of mud making me heave.  Before I can take another breath his hands are tickling me again, leaving me laughing hysterically.

‘OK, stop!  Ryan’s the king!  You’re the king!’ I almost scream.

‘The king of what?’ he says, leaning in, clearly enjoying my pain.

‘The king of the castle!’ I say still writhing.

‘There we go.  That wasn’t so hard was it?’ he whispers into my ear.  He’s so close it makes me shiver.  He leans back laughing, his eyes warm.

‘Can you let me go now?’ I ask.  I try to act genuinely annoyed, but the truth is that I could stay here forever.   

‘Of course Princess.’  He releases my hands but stays on top of me, grinning mischievously.

‘Oh I’ll move, shall I?’ I say sarcastically while I slide underneath his crotch.  I try to stand up but fall back, realising my hairs caught on something.

‘Ah!’ I whine as I try and tug it.

‘What?’ he says, moving away, not getting it.  I move with him. 

‘My hair.  It's attached to you or something,’ I say, my head still down against the duvet.

‘Oh my God,’ he says, laughing wildly.

‘What?  What am I attached to?’

‘You’re...’ he breaks into a heavy chuckle.  ‘You’re attached to my zipper.’