Playing the Field

by Foster, Zoe

  ‘Mmm, delicious,’ I said, tasting nothing more than a motley blend of vinegar and redcurrants. ‘What do you ride?’ I asked, following up our pre-Allegra conversation.

  ‘A mountain bike. I’m not that great – and I mean that, I’m not even being self-deprecating – but I love it. I ride when I can with two schoolmates, Aaron and Damon. We’re planning a trip to the Andes next year. Wanna come?’

  I laughed. ‘No thanks.’

  ‘You sure?’ His eyes sparkled mischievously. ‘If you’re lucky, you might get frostbite …’

  ‘As enticing as that sounds —’

  ‘… lose a few fingers – maybe a whole foot?’

  We laughed and sipped our wine, enjoying the giddiness and silliness of the newness of what I hoped was mutual attraction.

  ‘So, Jean, you free Sunday?’ he said, eyebrows sneaking towards his hairline. ‘Would you maybe – that’s if you’re not busy, of course – want to come and see us get smashed by the comp frontrunners? I can promise at least a 30-point flogging …’

  ‘Shouldn’t you be thinking positive? Visualising a win?’

  He took a long sip of wine, then looked at me seriously.

  ‘Maybe you’re right. I mean, I thought about seeing you again after Balcony, and look what happened. Basically fell into my lap!’ He grinned.

  A lap already nursing a girlfriend, I thought.

  ‘I’m not in your lap yet,’ I said playfully, champagne mingling with red wine in my bloodstream, and both having a wonderful time.

  He smiled mischievously. ‘You said yet.’

  ROUND 14

  Optimism vs Deathly Silence

  The next morning I afforded myself a ten-minute snooze to think about how perfect Josh was, in every – single – way. I turned on my phone, closing my eyes and hoping for the chime of a text… Nothing.

  Well, that’s not very nice. I’d sent him one after I’d got inside last night. After we’d sat in his car, and he’d leaned over, and he’d kissed me on the mouth, ever so graciously, before pulling back, his eyes shining, his smile wide and comforting, to tell me that he’d really enjoyed the evening. Part of me had been thrilled that he hadn’t launched in for the full-on pash, as that would have implied that he probably tried it on with every girl who delicately arranged the length of her dress as she sank into his enormous passenger seat. But another part of me wished he’d cut sick.

  Maybe my text had offended him, I thought suddenly, as I made my way down High Street to get my chai latte (soy; no sugar) that afternoon. What did I write again? I checked my sent items.

  Thank you for a beautiful evening. The only improvement would’ve been if we’d gone to a pub and watched some footy. Kidding. Thanks again x

  Totally innocuous. No way he couldn’t see the joke. My brain suddenly flew from first to sixth gear, without so much as a tap on the clutch. I wondered whether maybe he’d thought again about Tess, after having been on a date and kissed another girl. Maybe he liked her more than he realised. Maybe he’d even decided he wanted to get back with her, so that when he went to places like Tony’s, he had a Somebody, not a Nobody, on his arm.

  I wasn’t used to this kind of post-date paranoia and insecurity. I usually played the cool customer, letting the boy sweat on whether I’d had a good time. I realised this had been easy for me in the past because the kind of guys I’d been seeing had been, well, nice, but nothing too special. Nothing like Josh, basically. I hoped I could pump the brakes with this one; I was ready to see him for lunch today, and dinner too, and maybe a hot chocolate after that.

  When I got back to the shop, my ‘Back in seven-and-a-half minutes’ sign had been removed. Ingrid was back. She’d been at some seminar for fashion retailers. I had no idea what went down at these things and didn’t care. Presumably, they learned how to up-sell a belt with a dress, or how to bully people whose arse looked three times larger than was legally permitted in a dress to buy it anyway.

  I walked in to find her chatting with Colette. That was the upside of working on the same strip as my sister: we could annoy each other not only at home, but at work, too. I’m not sure that Ingrid saw it in such a positive light.

  Col looked up when she saw me. She looked kind of tired, or sad, or hung over.

  ‘Hi, guys,’ I said. ‘How was the course, Ingrid?’

  ‘Five hours of my life I’ll never get back, put it that way.’

  ‘Col, you okay? You look upset.’

  ‘No, no, no,’ she said quickly. ‘Just tired. So! How was the date with the local hero?’

  I offered a strained smile; I didn’t want Ingrid to know about Josh. But Col was exceptionally talented at spilling – nay, throwing around – beans I’d prefer to have stayed inside the bowl.

  ‘Yeah, it was nice.’ I sensed my smile extend into a dreamy grin without my consent.

  ‘Call the missing persons unit, Ingrid, she’s gone.’

  ‘You had a date, Jean?’ Ingrid was wearing a bemused expression. I felt my face flush.

  ‘Yeah, yeah. Last night, actually.’

  ‘Did he go for the goodnight grope?’

  ‘No, Col! Jesus. He’s a gentleman. Just a kiss on the lips. But, you know, a lingering one. A good one …’

  Ingrid and Colette made silly cooing noises as the colour of my face slid up the vegetable scale from tomato to beetroot.

  ‘Where did he take you? Was he wearing jeans? Please say no!’

  ‘No, he wore pants. He’s actually got really nice style, you know, considering he’s, well …’

  ‘A thug?’ Ingrid offered.

  ‘An athlete. He’s quite stylish. There’s something very Beckham about him.’

  ‘And that would make you, let me see, Posh?’ Ingrid had a devious glint in her eye. ‘I need coffee. Anyone like one?’

  ‘No thanks,’ Col and I said in unison, watching as she walked out before we continued the conversation.

  ‘Anyway, so — ’

  ‘Your tits are bigger than hers,’ Col said dismissively. ‘And she paid for hers. That’s saying something.’

  Col was fascinated by Ingrid’s boob job.

  ‘Anyway,’ I said loudly to shut her up, ‘so we went to some little restaurant in a backstreet somewhere but it was this beautiful food, and there were all these celebrities in there —’

  ‘Elton John? Madonna?’

  ‘And we drank champagne and —’

  ‘Look at you!’ Col said with huge eyes. ‘You’re all loopy and retarded! You look like you used to after you and Jeremy had been smoking reefers.’

  ‘I like him, Col,’ I said, savouring the admission, twirling my hair around my finger. ‘I really like him. He’s smart, and he’s funny, and he’s ambitious, and he’s gorgeous, and he’s a total gentlema—’

  ‘Clearly, you must be talking about me,’ a voice said from behind.

  Col’s eyes rolled. ‘Gee, Cameron, how we’ve missed you since, oooh, yesterday.’

  ‘I didn’t see you yesterday, thank you. I was off sick. Not that either of you sent me flowers, or brought me chicken soup, or so much as called to see if I was okay.’

  ‘Well, you look fine to us,’ Col said, folding her arms, not in the mood for the Cameron show. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Man. Someone needs to tell that boyfriend of yours he needs to start satisfying his lady.’

  ‘For the last fucking time, Cameron, he’s not my fucking boyfriend. I – don’t – have – a – fucking – boyfriend.’

  Not even Col’s scary not-in-the-mood tone could deter him.

  ‘What about you, Jean? Do you have a fucking boyfriend? Not in the true sense of the word, of course. You’re a lady, unlike the trollop beside you.’ His arms were folded, and the look in his eyes was questioning, unkind.

  ‘No,’ I said, immediately blushing, which, in Cameron’s eyes, read as a flashing neon sign bearing the word ‘YES’.

  ‘Really?’ he asked slowly, leaning against the doorframe, a wicke
d smile etched on his face. ‘So, who were you talking about just before?’ His eyes penetrated me, daring me not to answer.

  ‘Oh for God’s sake, Cameron,’ said Col. ‘You don’t have interrogation rights. Leave her alone. At least one of us has found someone they like enough to hang out with.’ She started looking in her bag for her keys. ‘I’m off, Jay. I’ll get the full story tonight. Cameron – don’t be an arsehole.’ She walked out, wagging her finger at him.

  Still Cameron’s eyes didn’t leave me.

  ‘So, Jean, how are things with Mr Pigskin?’ He smiled but there was no warmth to it.

  ‘Know what, Cameron? Great, actually.’

  He laughed a short, nasty laugh.

  ‘Ohhhh, Jeany. I did give you more credit than that, but it seems you’re not quite as smart as I thou—’

  ‘What are you on about? What’s this great hatred you have for footballers? What, did one of them pick on you at school or something? Is that it? Still nursing some scar tissue?’

  He continued to smile that twisted smile, shaking his head in a way that infuriated me more than him actually saying something.

  ‘Jean, you don’t have a clue what you’re getting yourself into. You’ve got no idea what kind of players and headfucks these guys are. How they treat women. How many women they treat. I’ve seen it first-hand, at pretty much every club and bar in this city. Girls present themselves, and footballers lap it up. Every weekend. Every team. So save your frothing until you get some clue. Then you’ll be wishing you’d listened to me rather than —’

  ‘Listened to you what? You’ve said nothing constructive, just that you have some intense aversion to footballers. And that is such a stereotype. You haven’t even said why! Sounds to me like you’re jealous of them, because they’ve got girls falling all over them, and money and fame, and you’re … you’re just a little retail whore!’

  The pseudo smile finally faded, replaced by a stone-cold glare. I’d gone too far. Fuck it. He’d written me the permission slip for that.

  I sighed. ‘Cam, this is the first guy I’ve actually liked since I’ve been down here. Why can’t you just let me enjoy it?’

  ‘Whatevs, Jean.’

  He turned his back and walked out the door. Good. What was his problem? Why was he being such a little bitch? Dammit, he made me so angry sometimes.

  I checked my phone for something from the man I had just defended, even though, deep down, I had no idea yet whether he was even worth defending. He could turn out to be Majorus Prickus and I would have to go back to Cameron with my tail between my legs. I’d rather eat excrement soup than admit he was right.

  Still nothing from Josh. Damn him, what was taking him so long? I took a sip of my scalding hot chai and burned my tongue. ‘Fuck,’ I cursed. Ingrid walked back in just as the word left my mouth.

  ‘What’s going on? Are you okay?’

  ‘Just burned my tongue, that’s all. And, well, to be honest, Cameron was here and he was being such a prick. I don’t know what his problem is. He’s never even met the guy!’

  A knowing smile spread over her face.

  ‘He doesn’t need to have met him. The fact that he gets to go on dates with you is enough for Cam.’

  ‘Urgh, he makes me so cranky!’

  ‘So, have you heard from Beckham today? Is there a second date locked in?’

  ‘No. But he said he had training all morning,’ I said quickly. That’s twice I’d defended him in five minutes. How interesting.

  Saturday morning, having not heard a beep, peep or chime from Josh all of Friday night – a night spent pretending to enjoy dinner and a movie with Col while surreptitiously checking for messages every three minutes – I checked my phone with several metric tonnes of anticipation. No banana.

  Well, I thought reassuringly, I had to hear from him today, because he had invited me to the game tomorrow, so he’d have to call today to organise tickets or something. With that appeasing thought, I got out of bed and walked to the bathroom for a shower. I had the day off; Ingrid’s friend Victoria came and helped out at the shop every so often. I kind of wished I was working, though, as it would prevent me from psychotically waiting for my phone screen to light up with Josh’s name. Instead, an overwhelmingly empty day loomed.

  Standing in front of my wardrobe, I wondered what to do with my Saturday. Why couldn’t Josh call and suggest lunch? Or even a coffee? I figured the ball was as much in my court as his, but I’d already texted him. Plus, it wasn’t my style. I liked the boy to initiate things. It just felt more romantic that way. The fifties were severely underrated, to my mind.

  I decided to go for my dark blue jeans, my trusty ballet slippers and a Breton. I wished I had a Burberry trench to throw over the top. And maybe some sexy black knee-high boots. These ballet slippers were so … cute. Cute was dull. I wanted to look sexy, grown up. Like a woman, not a girl. I sighed dramatically and threw my hair up into my usual bee’s bum. Wow. How glamorous. I looked at myself in the mirror and decided I needed a new wardrobe and new hair. Like, a lot. Maybe I would go shopping, I thought. What I should be doing is making some jewellery; that would be the Right Way to spend the day. I screwed my mouth to one side and sat on my bed, contemplating … Nup. I was dressed; I was going out. I was going to walk along Will Street and look in all the boutiques for inspiration for some new pieces. Maybe I would even buy some new stones. Yes! That’s what I would do. I’d be productive – or, at least, appear to be – and keep my mind busy and far, far away from my silent, blank phone.

  ROUND 15

  Arrivals vs Departures

  Sunday morning there was an envelope on my phone screen with Josh’s name attached to it. I almost deleted it in my furious race to open and read it. It came after an increasingly agitated morning, afternoon and evening of silence, and a sleepless, angry night, tossing and turning and getting obscenely, irrationally angry at Josh Fucking Fox, who asked me to go to his stupid game and then couldn’t even be bothered following up with a call or a text even though I thought we’d had a pretty nice date and we kind of maybe liked each other.

  I opened it, my heart thumping.

  Hey Jean. I’m not sure how 2 say this but have decided 2 get back w Tess. Thought should b honest w u. So sorry to stuff u abt.

  I re-read it.

  I read it again.

  No. No, this can’t be. It has to be some sick joke. It was so brutal! So clinical! So final! How did he manage to break up with me before we’d even really started dating? It’d be impressive if it weren’t so fucking diabolical.

  I grabbed my phone, put on my dressing gown and stormed to Col’s door, tapping on it in a semi-light fashion but in a way that she couldn’t possibly ignore.

  ‘Col? Co-oool?’

  ‘Whaaaaat?’

  I opened the door; she was splayed across the bed, nude as usual. She pulled the sheet up over her chest.

  ‘What’s happened?’ she croaked, her eyes still closed.

  ‘Josh is back with Tess,’ I said, half whispering, which was stupid as we were the only two in the room, and we were both awake.

  She sat up like a shot, her face screwed up, her eyes blinking open, trying to find focus. She jammed some of her curls behind an ear. ‘What?’

  ‘I’ll read it to you: Hey Jean. I’m not sure how 2 say this but have decided 2 get back w Tess. Thought should b honest w u. So sorry to stuff u abt.’

  ‘Fuck off.’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Show me.’ I handed her the phone and she read the offending message. ‘Fuck, man. That’s heavy.’

  I sat on her bed, my eyes darting around the dark room, trying to keep pace with my thoughts. I took the phone back from her to read it again.

  ‘What you gonna do?’ Col’s puffy eyes were struggling to stay open.

  ‘Would “Good luck and I wish you both many sexually transmitted diseases” get the sentiment across, do you think?’

  She smiled, sort of.

  ‘Nah, d
on’t even let him know you care.’

  ‘So I write nothing?’

  ‘You write nothing.’

  ‘I just … how, why, where did that come from? It’s weird more than anything. Doesn’t even sound like him, you know? I mean, we had a nice date – and we did have a nice date, I’m not attributing more meaning to it than there was – and he invited me to his game today, and now this!’

  ‘Total dog act.’

  I sighed deeply. ‘What are you doing today?’

  She cleared her throat. ‘Um, just … just heading over to Holly’s place, actually. She’s got a bit of a barbecue thing on.’

  I slumped. I so wanted to hang with Col today. The idea of a whole day full of nothing was too much to contemplate, especially as it was originally meant to include outfit-trying-on, a game of football, WAG-watching, and possibly an after-match drink with Josh, but now held nothing except the foul stench of cowardice and rejection.

  ‘Maybe I could come?’

  She looked surprised, and then apologetic.

  ‘Oh, Jay, I’d love you to but it’s just, you know, a really tight group of us … just the Uni girls. How about we go for a drink at that new little wine bar round the corner when I get back? Five-ish?’

  That was unlike Col; she usually invited me wherever she was going. And Holly liked me, I knew she did.

  ‘’Kay, cool.’ I walked out and closed the door behind me, having no idea how I would fill the day. How quickly everything could change. Josh Fox? You are a dog.

  ROUND 16

  The Insane vs The Innocent

  I was at the wine bar, one glass of rosé and half a cheese platter down, when Josh’s name flashed up on my screen. It was such a shock it took a few vibrations for me to understand. I’d waited days for this moment and now that it was happening, it felt dreamlike.

  ‘Col, Josh is calling! Shit, shit, shit, what do I do?’

  ‘Let it ring out, Jay! No way are you answering it.’ She put down her drink and shook her head emphatically.