Build a Man

by Talli Roland

  “It’s okay, Ser,” she says in a tone that tells me I haven’t fooled her at all. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll check into a hotel for tonight then figure out where to crash.”

  “Isn’t there anyone else you can stay with?” The thought of Kirsty all alone in a bland hotel room makes me even more furious at Peter.

  “No, not really.” She pulls her hair back into a ponytail. “I don’t want to ask anyone from work. They know too much as it is – I can’t believe Tim told them everything without even checking with me first. He knows what it’s like there.” Sinking down on the bed, she runs a hand over her face.

  “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.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  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.”

  I don’t know whether to be insulted or relieved. And I’m not sure I believe her, either. “So why did you bother heading right to Jeremy’s without telling me?”

  Mia shrugs. “I wanted a chance to build some rapport with him, in case things ever go wrong between you two. Honestly, I was glad when you came in. I’ve never met a more boring bloke. All that business about building the house from scratch . . . whatever.”

  “He’s not boring,” I say, much louder than intended. “He’s one of the nicest guys I’ve met here.”

  A smirk nudges up a corner of Mia’s mouth. “Sounds like someone has a little crush. You’d best watch that, you know. It’s not good for objectivity.”

  “I don’t have a crush,” I say, silently cursing the colour flooding into my cheeks. Why on earth am I blushing?

  “Reeeeeally.” Mia raises an over-plucked ginger eyebrow. “Anyway, I’ve got to go,” she says, dismissing me like I’m a plaything that’s now become boring. “Oh, hello there, Jeremy. I was just leaving. Have a great night.”

  The door slams behind her and I turn quickly, my heart in my throat. Jeremy? Just how long has he been standing there? Please God, may he not have heard the bit about the crush.

  “Um, hi, Jeremy.” My face must be almost purple now. “So Mia’s gone,” I ramble foolishly, flinging an arm toward the door. “How about that drink?” God knows I need it.

  Jeremy’s lips curve into his slow, crinkly smile. “Sure.”

  I follow him over to the kitchen and settle into my usual place at the table, keeping my head down so my face can return to a state that wouldn’t rival a radish. Maybe he didn’t hear anything, I tell myself. He probably didn’t. We weren’t talking that loudly, right?

  Jeremy hands me another glass of wine and I take a giant gulp to calm my nerves. Instead of sitting across the table, he settles onto
the wide wooden bench beside me, and I swivel to face him.

  “Any big plans for the weekend?” he asks.

  “The usual. Nothing.” I force a laugh to make the words seem less pathetic.

  “I was wondering if I could book you for an extra session and take you to Borough Market with me tomorrow. So you can advise me on diet and things like that,” he adds quickly.

  “Sure, sounds good. What exactly is Borough Market?”

  Jeremy’s eyebrows lift. “You’ve never heard of Borough Market? It’s brilliant – I do my weekly shopping there every Saturday. Great for foodies. You need to do some exploring of London. What else have you seen? Have you been to Hampstead Heath?”

  I shake my head.

  “Primrose Hill?”

  “Wait, I know that one. That’s where Gwyneth Paltrow lives, right?”

  He grins. “Right. But did you know there’s also a fantastic view over the city? And have you ever been to Greenwich?”

  “No. I have a lot of London to see, I guess.” His enthusiasm is infectious, and I can’t wait to get out and discover more. When I first moved here, I had grand plans to see every part of my new home. But with work and Peter, somehow those fell by the wayside.

  “Tell you what. Why don’t I pick a London location to introduce you to each weekend? I love showing off the city.”

  “That would be awesome – er, great!” I say, eager to leave the confines of Marylebone and experience new bits of London with Jeremy. Peter usually works on the weekends and he’s always saying he hates ‘tourist stuff’, anyway. And, of course, it’s all in the name of duty. The more time I spend with Jeremy, the better my column will be.