Mile High Guy

by Marisa Mackle

  ‘So, do you want to meet up?’ Adam asks as my heart does a quick somersault.

  I pause as if I’m thinking about it and then speak.

  ‘Sure,’ I try to sound as normal as possible. As if TV stars ask me out all the time. ‘Er . . . when?’

  ‘Tonight?’

  ‘Tonight?’ I look at my watch. It’s a quarter to twelve. Time for bed. He’s a bit cheeky now, isn’t it? Asking me out at such little notice. Does he think I’m desperate?

  ‘I’m about to go to bed,’ I tell him.

  ‘Sounds promising.’

  ‘I can meet you another time,’ I offer, simply ignoring his somewhat suggestive remark. If he thinks I’m the type of girl to go chasing strange men in the middle of the night, he has another thing coming.

  ‘I can’t meet you tomorrow night because I’m going to an award ceremony in London,’ Adam explains.

  Well, that’s too bad then, I think. I notice he doesn’t offer to whisk me over and be his guest for the night. But maybe I’m jumping the gun too much.

  ‘I’m back Friday,’ he says.

  ‘That’s a pity. I’m going to Boston on Friday.’ I tell him. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘What are you doing there?’

  ‘I work as an air hostess, remember?

  ‘How long will you be in Boston?’

  ‘Just a night. Hey, how about I write up my entire timetable and fax it to you?’ I laugh.

  ‘Where are you staying?’

  ‘In the Back Bay area, just off Newbury Street.’

  ‘I know it well. I love that area. I might come and visit you.’

  ‘You’re joking.’

  ‘I never joke. I don’t have a sense of humour,’ he laughs.

  ‘Well come if you want,’ I say, not taking him at all seriously. After all, I’ve been seeing Tim for years and he’s never once managed to accompany me on any of my trips so I’m hardly expecting someone I barely know to follow me out. Especially someone as famous as Adam Kirrane. But I decide to humour him anyway and give him the name of my hotel.

  ‘I’ll be in touch, Gorgeous,’ he says.

  ‘Right so, thanks for ringing,’ I say before I remember it was me who rang him.

  ‘No probs,’ he says and cuts off.

  I look in the mirror, my phone still in my hand. I look the same as ever. I don’t look like I’ve just been speaking on the phone to a big TV star. Nobody in the whole world knows I’ve just had a conversation with Adam Kirrane. It’s a nice feeling. And it’s my secret.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘Katie. I didn’t wake you, did I?’

  ‘Well you did actually Debbie, what time is it?’

  ‘Time you were up. Did you ring your man?’

  ‘What man?’

  ‘Get away out of that? Adam Kirrane. Did you ring him?’

  ‘No.’ I lie. And I feel terrible for lying to somebody as nice as Debbie but I really don’t want anyone to know about last night’s phone call. For a number of reasons. You see if I end up dating a high profile guy like Adam and it doesn’t work out, people will forever be asking why. And if it does work out, I don’t want Adam to think I’m gossiping about him at work. So I need to be careful. Anyway, as far as I know, I might never speak to Adam again. After all, I refused to go out with him last night. And I know he says he’s going to follow me to Boston but sure, that’ll be the day.

  ‘Do you want to go into town?’

  ‘I don’t mind. I’ve no money but what’s new? If I hang around the house all day I’ll just end up watching TV and eating though, so I might as well.’

  ‘I’ll meet you outside The Bailey at one so.’

  ‘Er Debbie . . . do you mind if I meet you somewhere else?’

  The thought of standing outside The Bailey on my own fills me with dread. It’s where all the beautiful and wannabe beautiful people hang out.

  ‘Okay. Outside Brown Thomas?’

  ‘How about just inside Brown Thomas? The menswear department.’

  ‘Sure. See you then.’

  I think about taking the car into town but then decide against it. The traffic in Dublin is appalling now. So I decide to get the bus instead. At least, this way, I won’t have to drive round and round Stephen’s Green looking for a car parking space when I get into town.

  I meet Debbie in Brown Thomas. When I spot her she’s picking up ties pretending to look at them. She’s visibly relieved to see me. After all, there’s only so much interest you can pretend to have in ties when you’re manless.

  ‘My bus was late,’ I give her a hug.

  ‘Your bus is always late,’ she laughs. ‘You should really get another one.’

  ‘Haha. Anyway I’m here now, so are we going for lunch or what?’ I ask.

  ‘Sure, but let’s go upstairs first and have a look at some clothes we can’t afford. Just to put us in a really good mood.’

  We head upstairs for a look. After a while though, I’m beginning to feel slightly depressed. How many charter flights to Athens would I have to do before I could afford a single Armani suit? I spot a few immaculately dressed women wandering about, pausing to hold various garments against themselves in the mirror. I wonder if they have fabulously wealthy husbands. Or are they mistresses even? Or did they simply win the lottery? I know they’re not high-powered executives because if they were, they’d be at work, wouldn’t they?

  I love speculating about other people’s lives. My imagination goes into overdrive as I think about the exciting lives other people must lead. I sometimes look at little girls’ faces on flights and they look back at me, probably thinking I must have the best job in the world. And I look at other people in office jobs with every weekend off and think how nice their lives must be. Sometimes I just wonder what constitutes a really exciting life. Maybe we’re all just lost souls looking for something that simply doesn’t exist?

  Debbie is looking a bit bored at this stage. She’s fingering the racks of clothes but not really paying close attention. She has a glazed look in her eye. I know that look.

  ‘Come on,’ she says. ‘Let’s go and get ourselves a drink.’

  Alarm bells sound loudly. If she thinks I’m falling for that, she has another thing coming. I’ve known Debbie for the last few years and I have never ever known her to go for just the one drink.

  ‘Let’s get something to eat first,’ I suggest. I’ve a strong feeling I need to line my stomach. We eat in a salad bar in The Powerscourt Centre before heading downstairs to Ba Mizu where we order two quarter-bottles of wine. The glasses they give us are so huge. Mmm. I wonder why they do that?

  Anyway I like this bar, despite the large glasses and its dark interior. It’s dark in a pleasant way. I like dark bars, especially late at night, when the old make-up starts to wear off and my eyes become a bit bloodshot.

  The wine tastes good. Almost too good. There’s something very satisfying about sitting in a bar drinking wine in the middle of the day while the rest of the world is at work. It’s a bit like mitching school, isn’t it? I also love drinking on planes. Because it’s a bit like drinking at the office. Of course I don’t drink while I’m at work. No. Well, obviously not. Even though that’s the very time I could do with a stiff drink. But when I’m going on holidays I love sipping wine while somebody else serves the passengers. I don’t want to drink too much now though. I’m afraid if I do, I’ll end up telling Debbie about my phone call to Adam. Alcohol’s desperate like that, isn’t it? One drink too many and all innermost thoughts are anybody’s.

  Don’t you just hate revealing secrets under the influence of alcohol? It’s easy to do at the time but it’s horrible waking up and remembering that you’ve said lots of things you shouldn’t have. And I especially don’t like not remembering how I got home, or whom I snogged. And I hate finding unfamiliar phone numbers in my bag without knowing how the hell they got there. Of course the worst thing is remembering half way through the day that the person I snogged is someone that I work with. Someon
e I don’t even like. Or somebody with a girlfriend.

  ‘Would you ever get that into you?’ Debbie urges. She’s almost finished her glass of wine and I’ve just started sipping mine.

  I know any minute she’s going to nod at my glass and go, ‘Same again?’ and I’m afraid I’m not going to have the willpower to say no. I sip slowly but that doesn’t stop her from ordering two more quarter bottles. She never even asked if I wanted another drink. I’m embarrassed. After all, it’s my round. But she says I can buy the next two. The next two? Oh, God, I just knew this was going to happen.

  After Ba Mizu we head to Davy Byrne’s. My choice. I really like the atmosphere there and there’s always a few decent-looking men hanging around. We grab a seat down the back and order another two glasses of wine.

  ‘We should really drink two glasses of water as well to limit the damage,’ I suggest.

  ‘Yes we should,’ Debbie agrees but then we forget all about the water and head off to Cocoon for another few. In Cocoon, they show fashion videos all day on large screens. Debbie and I sit back and stare at various male models modelling tight briefs and try not to laugh.

  I’m pretty merry now and basically laughing at anything. I’m kind of tempted to tell Debbie about Adam but luckily I don’t. She confides in me that she slept with one of the married pilots on her last overnight in Kerry and I am so shocked. She makes me swear not to tell anyone though.

  Then I feel really bad because she has told me something so personal and I’m not even prepared to tell her about a silly phone call to Adam. A phone call that might or might not lead to anything.

  She asks me if I still have Adam’s number and I tell her I have. She tells me she thinks he is the most beautiful man in the world and would kill to go out with him.

  ‘Suppose he is just after one thing though?’ I ask her.

  ‘He could have it,’ she gives a dirty laugh. ‘Over and over again.’

  ‘Do you not think a man like that would be impossible to trust though?’

  ‘All men are impossible to trust.’ Debbie is adamant about that and shakes her head as if to confirm her point.

  At this stage I feel people looking over at us and I’m conscious that we’re probably being very loud, so I suggest we try somewhere else. We step outside and I’m immediately struck by how bright it is. The sun is dazzling and we’ve probably had too much to drink. I hope we don’t meet anyone we know. After all, it’s not Christmas or either of our birthdays. And as far as I know, Ireland hasn’t won a match today, so we’re going to look pretty sad stumbling around Grafton Street in this state. I suggest we get a taxi back to Debbie’s flat where we can get something to eat and open another bottle of wine. She seems to think that’s a good idea and suggests ringing a few more people so they can join us. I’m not so sure about that last part.

  We stumble out of the taxi at Debbie’s Rathmines flat where her flatmate looks slightly bemused to see us in such high spirits. Her name is Fiona and she works as a customer service agent in town and thinks our job is really glamorous even though we’ve already told her all the horror airline stories.

  But I suppose if I was stuck in an office all day dealing with customer complaints, I’d think we were lucky too. Isn’t it amazing though that some people still think we spend our lives on beaches and shops and stuff?

  Debbie puts on Eminem’s latest CD. She turns up the music and then draws the curtains. It’s raining outside and suddenly I’m glad we came home when we did. Debbie finds a disco ball and places it in the middle of the floor so we can dance around it.

  Fiona declines to join us on our makeshift dance floor. She also suggests turning down the music, as she doesn’t want the neighbours complaining yet again. She insists she doesn’t want to miss her evening PR class, even though Debbie tries to persuade her not to go. But Fiona has been here and done that a few times now and still thinks she should go to her PR class. She disappears with her umbrella into the dark miserable evening and the two of us are left alone bopping to Eminem.

  ‘She’s not as much fun as she used to be,’ Debbie laments once Fiona has disappeared down the front steps. ‘She’s always working or studying. But there’s more to life.’

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘What’s the point in life if you don’t have fun?’

  ‘Well I suppose it is only Wednesday,’ I point out.

  ‘Is it really?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘I still think there’s more to life though. Will we open a bottle of wine?’

  ‘Why not? And let’s turn off Eminem. He’s always in a bad mood.’

  Debbie takes Eminem out of the CD player and sticks on Christina Aguilera.

  After a few songs I need to go to the bathroom. Clumsily I try to find it and open the

  hot press door instead. I must be mad. What on earth am I doing drinking midweek when I’ve a million things to do? I should really be writing my script. After all, nobody else is ever going to write it for me. However I’m only young once, I reason with myself, eventually finding the right door.

  When I come back into the kitchen Debbie is on the phone telling someone to fuck off. I actually think it’s quite funny until I realise it’s my phone. Then horror sets in rapidly.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I shriek.

  ‘Don’t worry, it was just a crank call,’ Debbie laughs. ‘The guy said his name was Adam Kirrane. Yeah right. Funny guy. How many people did you tell about him, Katie?’

  I’m shocked. I can’t believe Adam just rang and Debbie told him to fuck off. How could she do that to me?

  ‘How do you know it wasn’t Adam himself?’ I splutter.

  Debbie nearly cracks up laughing. ‘How do I know haha? Sure you told me yourself you didn’t ring him so how on earth would he have your mobile number? It must have been Tim. Hang on; Tim’s not that funny, is he? Maybe it was someone else.’

  I feel nauseous. I cannot believe that Adam is at some big award ceremony in London tonight and that he actually took time out of his busy schedule to ring me, and was insulted by my best friend.

  Debbie is still chuckling. She thinks it’s hysterical that someone has rung pretending to be Adam Kirrane. She thinks it might be a guy called Shane, who is Tim’s friend and is quite good-looking and kind of funny. I know Debbie’s kind of fancied him for a while. My phone rings again. This time it’s not Adam, it’s Tim.

  ‘Hello,’ I say.

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Debbie’s.’

  ‘What are you doing there?’

  ‘Just hanging out.’

  ‘You drinking?’

  ‘I’ve just had a glass of wine.’

  He doesn’t believe I’ve had just one glass but I don’t care. He wants to come over. I don’t think this is a good idea. Debbie thinks this is a great idea however. She grabs my phone and tells him to come over and bring his friend Shane.

  I groan. I know this isn’t a good idea but of course Tim agrees to come over straight away. He hates when I’m out drinking without him. I know he’s just coming over to take me home. And spoil our little party.

  The two lads arrive about an hour later and Debbie opens another bottle of wine. Tim isn’t cross with me for some strange reason. Maybe he knows I’m going off him and therefore is being extra attentive. Men are funny like that. They often start loving you the very minute you decide to stop loving them.

  Shane seems delighted with the attention Debbie is lavishing on him. She’s making it really obvious she fancies him and they’ve already started dancing. I don’t get it. I mean I know she’s tipsy but he’s supposed to be sober! Debbie gets away with throwing herself at men. She just does it so effortlessly. If I do it, they always run a mile. It’s so unfair!

  Suddenly I hear Shane denying he ever rang pretending he was Adam Kirrane. Tim wonders what the fuss is all about. I shoot Debbie a warning look and thankfully she shuts up. The last thing I want is for Tim to find out about Adam.

  After a wh
ile Tim reckons we should go home. I don’t want to leave though. I’ve just got going. I feel like I’m a child at a birthday party and my mother is the first parent to arrive to take me home. I point this out but Tim suggests we should leave Debbie and Shane alone.

  Reluctantly I agree, although I’m pretty annoyed about Tim dictating to me. However, I do realise that my head will thank me for not drinking any more, so I say goodbye to Debbie. Tim was right – she seems clearly delighted to see the back of me. Some friend, huh?

  As soon as the cold air hits me I realise how drunk I am. It’s not a nice feeling. Thank God, tomorrow’s a day off. I’ll be able to have a nice lie-in. Now I’m sitting in the passenger seat. The car window is open slightly and Tim is caressing my thigh. I’m kind of glad I’m on my way home. At least it has saved me getting a taxi later. Anyway if Tim hadn’t arrived with Shane, Debbie and I probably would have hit Leeson Street or something. Perish the thought . . .

  Tim parks outside my house and leans over to snog me. I kiss him back passionately because I’m drunk. But in the middle of the kiss I think of Adam and immediately feel ashamed of myself. Because I would hate someone to kiss me while fantasizing about someone else.

  ‘I love you,’ Tim tells me when we stop kissing.

  ‘I love you too,’ I say back. Just out of habit really. I don’t even really realise when I’m saying it.

  It takes an age to get my key in the door. Tim waits outside patiently to see I get in safely. Once inside I take the stairs as quickly as I can to avoid having a conversation with my parents. I hear the news on in the sitting room and can’t believe it’s only nine o’clock. Because we’ve been drinking all day, it feels like the middle of the night. In my room, I take out my mobile. I know I really shouldn’t ring Adam in the state I’m in but I do anyway. I just don’t want him to think I’m the type of girl who tells people to fuck off. I ring but don’t get through. His phone is switched off. I kick off my shoes and lie down on the bed. I just want a few minutes to relax before removing all my make-up and clothes. Then I’ll try ringing him again.

  Within five minutes I’m asleep.