Snow Balls (Ball Games #2)

by Andie M. Long

  'Yes, but I need as much money as I can get.’ I go for broke. ‘I'll clean the cupboard under the stairs.'

  My mother hates this room. She's shit scared of spiders. I see her chew on her lip.

  'What about ironing? You can teach me. I know you hate it.'

  She taps the fingers of one hand on the other. 'Fine.'

  'I want a card drawing up.'

  My mother shakes her head but goes off in search of a piece of paper and a pen. She makes me draw up a list of chores. I can earn twenty quid a week.

  ‘If you tell your father about this, I’ll deny all knowledge and you won't get paid. He only agrees with me working part-time because I do the housework.’

  ‘Mum’s the word.’ I'd like to see him try to get my mum to work any extra hours though.

  At the weekend, I set up my channel—TylerNation—and record my first episode of me playing Alien Combat. By Monday morning when I set off to work I've had eight views. Surely they'll grow steadily until I get to my first million?

  Once at work, I meet with Donna and ask to increase my hours. She’s well pleased. 'That's fantastic, Tyler. Your experience here will make things smoother. Keep your head down and work hard. There might be an Assistant Manager post coming up shortly.'

  I meet Lindsay in the break room.

  'What's with your face?' she asks me. 'It's Monday morning and you're like… smiling.'

  'You are looking at a full-time employee. Potential management material.'

  'What?'

  I tell her about my conversation with Donna.

  'I've been here as long as you and I'm already full-time. She's not mentioned any management post to me. Bitch.'

  'Now, now. She's probably just found out about it. I'm sure you would have been the main contender for it until I increased my hours.'

  'What do you mean? I'm still the main contender for it. I've worked more hours than you for years.'

  ‘True.’ I shake my head in agreement because I know better than to take on Lindsay in an argument. She's gone puce in the face. It’s obviously that time of the month again.

  'Going back to why I'm happy. I'm full-time. Also, I have my own YouTube channel. I'll get approved for a mortgage next month and then I’ll be taking Jennifer Lambert on a date.'

  Lindsay raises an eyebrow. 'Well fuck me. What a busy few days off you've had.'

  'Indeed.'

  'Except I thought you weren't moving out?'

  'I'm not.'

  'So why go full-time to get a mortgage application approved?'

  'So I can see Jennifer and agree on where we're going for a date.'

  Lindsay looks at her watch, 'Oh look, break time’s over. What a shame I was enjoying watching your descent into madness.'

  I stick out my tongue. 'You're just jealous.'

  Lindsay gathers her petite frame, shoulders lifting.

  Ah, fuck.

  'Jealous? Me? What of exactly? Jennifer Lambert?'

  'No. Er.'

  'The job?'

  Christ alive. I'm toast if I don't think of something.

  'My YouTube channel.'

  Her shoulders relax. 'What?'

  'You know nothing about them. I think you're annoyed that I’ll make a stack of money and leave Smiths.'

  'Yeah, that's right.' She rolls her eyes but her shoulders tense. 'I could make a channel and show any old shit. Bet I'd get more viewers than you.'

  'Oh yeah? What would you be willing to bet?'

  'Erm, twenty quid?'

  'Deal.'

  'Fine.'

  'Okay. Let's make the deadline the end of March as that's when my bet with Camille ends.'

  'What bet’s that?'

  'She thinks I won't get Mum and Dad to let me stay living at theirs.'

  'I can't follow all your crazy. I can't.'

  'So the last day of March, at eight pm. That's when we'll see who has the most followers on our channels. I'm bringing out the IOU paper, Lindsay. To add insult to injury you've got to take me out for some food.'

  'Fine.'

  'Fine.'

  We go back to the store.

  Chapter Five

  A month of full-time work, doing housework and adding to my Vlog has me absolutely fucking knackered. I can’t help thinking this is a lot of effort to get a date with a bird.

  Meanwhile, my mother is basking in my father's rare adulation about the house being in peak condition. Not bad for her not lifting a finger.

  My parents summon me into the lounge for a meeting. No doubt a parental update as there are six weeks before my eviction.

  'So I've been mulling things over, Tyler,' says my father, 'and your mother agrees with me on this.’

  My mother nods.

  ‘We’ve seen the effort you’re putting in to get approved for a mortgage and well, we didn't realise you'd need such a big deposit. In our day, there were one hundred percent mortgages and it only cost twenty-two grand for our house. Anyway, you can have some money out of your savings account. It was supposed to be towards your wedding but seeing as you're twenty-five with no woman in sight, we figured you could have less for your special day and we'll give you some of it now.'

  The wedding fund was previously a University fund. Basically, Camille got given ten grand when she went to University and I got a big fat fuck all. Our parents said it was for investment. I know they thought I'd spend it on music and gaming equipment. I proved them right when I got my Gran’s inheritance and did exactly that. So then it became The Wedding Fund, because of course, all blokes dream of one of those. I have no fucks to give if I’m in a Dolce and Gabbana suit or a Primark on the big day. That’s if I even get married. I keep telling them that. It's a piece of bloody paper you have to stand up in the Town Hall for, or a Church, like a prize wanker. No thanks. I wouldn’t mind but my parents aren’t married. My mother says I can’t be that nasty to my future wife, and then she’ll glare at my Dad. I think that’s the only thing he’s stood his ground about.

  'So,' says my mother. 'We will give you ten thousand pounds as a deposit, but only if you proceed with a mortgage. Otherwise, it will remain in the account.'

  I want to jump up and kiss them. I won't need it cos I'm not going anywhere but they don't need to know that do they? It means I can get my mortgage acceptance letter and my girl. Result.

  'That's fantastic. Thank you so much. I really appreciate this. I can get my mortgage acceptance letter now.' I shake my Dad's hand and pull my mother forward into a hug.

  They smile at each other. Big beams like they have this parenting lark sussed. My dad stands ready to leave the room, 'Well. Time for a beer. Do you want one son?'

  'No thanks, Dad. I've got an early start tomorrow.'

  'Dora? Do you want anything?'

  'No, love, I'm fine.'

  He leaves the room.

  Mum taps my arm. 'Well, I’m quite astonished at the difference in you, Tyler. Working hard and becoming responsible. I thought you’d argue about it much more than you have.'

  'It’s very kind you offering the money for a deposit, Mum.'

  'Oh, thank your sister. It was her suggestion.'

  That devious cow. Part of trying to win the bet no doubt.

  ‘Yes. Another six weeks or so and I might be out of here. It'll be great for me, but not so much for you, Mum.'

  'Oh,' she creases her forehead. 'Why?'

  'Well, you’ll have the housework to do again and Dad's really happy with the current standards. Anyway, I'm turning in now, night.' I kiss her cheek.

  I take a quick peek at my Mum’s face as I leave the room. She's looking around the lounge and sighing. Hahaha. Tyler - 1, Mum - 0. Another result.

  'Will you record me for my YouTube channel this lunch time?' I get on my knees in front of Lindsay and pretend to beg like a dog.

  'Is that not helping you? Which will make me lose my bet.'

  'Nah. It's just recording. If you don't help, I'll just get someone else to do it anyway. I want to do a few s
cenes out and about in Rotherham centre. Get my face known.'

  She sighs. 'Alright then. How many followers are you at so far?'

  'I'm not telling you until the grand reveal.'

  'Fine.'

  I'm not telling her because I have twelve. The new four are workers from Smiths that I made sign up last week because I'd had no new subscribers whatsoever.

  I elbow Lindsay. 'What's your channel about anyway? What’s my competition?'

  'I'm filming my hamster and trying to get him to do something funny. I want to make him famous, like Grumpy Cat. Only so far he's not done anything.’

  ‘Oh dear.’

  ‘I'm not telling you how many subscribers I have or what my channel’s called but I wouldn’t worry about me being a threat at the moment. I'm working on it though. Do you think there's an equivalent of catnip for hamsters?'

  I shrug. 'Dunno. Anyway, how was your weekend?'

  'Okay. Drank too much as usual.’

  She puts a magazine on the shelf and hands me some to do the same. ‘I'm getting bored going out with my mates now, you know. Feeling like shit every Sunday morning. I'm twenty-five. I need to grow up. Christ, pass me that Knitting Monthly so I can subscribe. I’m old. What about you? What did you do?'

  'Same. As in I went out with the lads and played Pool. Had a few beers, but got a lie in on Sunday so was fine by the time I woke up.'

  She pauses, magazine in hand. 'Don't you get bored with the same old, same old? Wish for a bit more in your life?'

  'Nah. I enjoy myself.'

  Lindsay turns away from me sighing. 'Well, I'd best get on. See you at lunch.'

  'It's a date,' I say.

  ‘What?’ She frowns.

  'You know what I mean,' I reply.

  'I sure do.' She walks off.

  God, she's moody lately.

  'So just record me as I'm speaking okay? That's all I want.'

  'Fine. Hurry up. It’s cold.'

  We stand outside one of the gaming stores. Lindsay records me as I talk about the latest games. This way I can point to the merch in the window and chat about it. It'll make a better visual than me in my bedroom.

  'Right. Just a bit of footage of me walking around the centre now and I can edit it in.'

  Lindsay dutifully follows me. As I walk backwards, talking to the camera, I fail to see the placard saying Jesus Protect us All. I topple back, arse over tit over the board. It collapses with a clatter.

  I get up and rush away, explaining hurriedly to the man whose board it is that I'm absolutely fine, and no it wasn’t a divine message to be more careful.

  'Erase that,' I tell Lindsay.

  'Already done,' she informs me. 'I didn't think you'd want your fans seeing that on your channel.'

  'You're a star.' I check behind me to see the view is clear. 'Now just record a little more and I'll treat you to a sausage roll.'

  She puts a hand on her heart. 'My God, you spoil me. A girl could get used to this, you know.'

  'Ha ha. Now start recording.'

  Now I'm full time I have to make my next bank appointment for Thursday morning. It's my Saturday to work, so this and Sunday are my days off this week. I'm missing my days off at home but the thought of the extra money I'll earn to spend on gaming equipment and taking Jennifer on dates is more than making up for it. Anyway, I’d only be doing more housework, knowing my mother. She’s trying to get me to do the once a year jobs now she thinks I’ll be leaving soon. I’ve no intention of taking all the curtains down to wash and iron.

  As I walk into the bank on Thursday, I feel a foot taller than last time.

  Dylan comes walking over.

  'Hey, man. Can you give Camille a ring later? We want to ask you a favour.'

  'Oh, yeah? What?'

  'I'll let her ask you mate. Don't want to get in the middle of you two making a deal about something. Far too dangerous.'

  'I'll be free after seven. I'll ring her then. If I forget, tell her to ring me on my mobile, only I’m dead busy these days.'

  'Will do.'

  I'm struggling to fit my chores in this week. For one thing, I have to make sure my dad’s out the house. I don't need the money now I'm earning more, but it's keeping my mother in my pocket; so for that reason, the chores need to stay my job. One thing I've noticed with all the running about over the last month is that I've not been snacking so much. I've slimmed down with all the exercise. I'm always dashing everywhere. My body’s getting a little toned. As my appointment today isn't until one pm, I popped into the local barbers first thing and got myself a smart new cut. My blonde hair is now shorn at the sides and longer on top. I've also used some of my chore money to buy a fitting pair of navy trousers and a smart/casual jumper that hugs my new physique. I'm certainly not ripped but I'm pleased with my new shape.

  Jennifer comes tottering through on really high heels. This time, her long hair is up in a bun on the top of her head, with pieces hanging down and touching her face. She has the sexy secretary look going on.

  She looks around for a minute and then looks at me.

  'Tyler?'

  'Yeah. Hi, Jennifer.'

  'God, you look different out of that old fogey suit.' She looks shocked. 'Sorry. I shouldn't have said that. You might like that suit.'

  I laugh and raise a hand, enjoying her reaction. She's actually blushing. 'That was Smiths workwear,’ I lie. ‘Got my own gear on today.'

  'Yeah. Totally get you. Like I'd wear this suit usually. It's so hot and itchy and well, old.'

  She leads me back to the office.

  'Right, so I guess your circumstances have changed since we last met?'

  I sit up straighter. 'They have. Firstly, I'm now full-time employed with a high chance of becoming an Assistant Manager very soon.'

  'Really? That's amazing.' Jennifer types in my current annual salary.

  'I also have a ten thousand pounds deposit.'

  'Already?' Jennifer’s jaw drops. 'How have you managed that?'

  There's no way I'm saying it was from my folks when I have her slack-jawed and eating up my every word.

  'Sponsorship of my YouTube channel,' I lie. 'It’s taken right off.' I’m so pleased I’m not Catholic with all these fibs I’m telling.

  'Wow,' she says. 'What's your channel on there?'

  'Hmmm, I’m afraid I can’t tell you.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I'm incognito, you see. It's the element of mystery that adds to it. So for the moment, I can't give away my identity. The people paying for the ads wouldn't like it.'

  Jennifer nods her head in understanding. 'I totally get you. That's okay.’ She puts in all the information on the screen.

  'Well obviously the application needs to be processed and agreed by my Manager but I feel we will be in a position to offer you a mortgage deal. It should be enough to get you a little property around Rotherham.'

  'Great.' I give her my best smile.

  'Although if you made ten grand in a month, you'd be wanting to live in London, or something.'

  'It's possible,' I lie once again. 'Anyway, thank you very much for getting me sorted mortgage wise.' I make a point of looking at her name badge. 'Er, Jennifer.'

  She blinks and looks at her own name badge.

  'Yes, Jennifer. Jennifer Lambert.' She scratches behind her ear while looking down over her body.

  'Gosh it's warm in here,' she says, undoing the top button of her blouse so I can see the top of her bra.

  'Well, thank you, Jennifer. You've been a great help.' I get up to walk away.

  'Erm, you said something about a date last time?'

  I turn back to her, 'Did I?'

  'Yes, I think so. Though I could have been wrong?' She licks her top lip while looking at me from under a piece of her fringe that's fallen across her eye. Well played Jennifer, well played.

  'Well, do you have any plans for Valentine's Day?' I ask.

  'No. No, I'm free.'

  'Well how about I pick you up at seven?'
I point to the jotter pad on her desk. 'Write me your address and phone number on there.'

  She quickly writes them down.

  'I'll see you on Valentines, Jen.' I wink and walk out.

  Get me. I am on fucking fire.

  I phone Camille at seven pm.

  'Yes?' she says hesitantly.

  'It's me, dufus. You asked me to ring.'

  'Yeah, but you never do. I thought it was Mum ringing to say you were dead or something?'

  'Yeah, that's realistic.'

  'It's more plausible than the alternative. You’re actually phoning me.'

  'We speak every week.'

  'Yeah, when I ring you.'

  'Well are you over the shock yet because I've got things to do. Bets to win. What favour do you want?'

  'Can you come and stop at mine for a week and look after Bob?'

  Bob is Camille's cat.

  'Why?'

  'Me and Dylan are going to Tenerife for a week mid-March. I don't want to put him in a cattery as he loves it at home.'

  'What's in it for me?'

  'Yeah, don’t do it out of love for your sister or anything.’

  ‘You’re so funny.’

  ‘You get the place to yourself for a week. Get to see what living alone is like.'

  'Sure this isn't a ploy on your part to win the bet?'

  'No. I'll win that anyway without resorting to cheating tactics like you. I'll pay you the cattery fee too, so that's seventy quid. What else do you want?'

  'I want to borrow your car on Valentine’s Day.'

  'No fucking way.'

  She screams that so loud I have to move the phone away from my ear.

  Camille has a Fiat 500. It's her pride and joy. It's a bit girly for me but better than having to catch the bus on my date.

  'Dylan's then?'

  Dylan has a Ford Focus. That’s much better to be honest.

  'That's it?'

  'And the seventy quid. That'll pay for the dinner.'

  'God. Lucky girl. Going all out, aren't you?'

  'She'll be eating out of my hand.'

  'Who is it? Lindsay?'

  I splutter. 'Don't be stupid. Why did you think it would be her?'

  'She's the only woman daft enough to put up with you. All these years and she's still your friend. Must be more to it.'