A Moral Dilemma: A Romantic Comedy Chick Lit Story

by Zara Kingsley

  “C’mon,” I said. “Let’s go get a drink.”

  “Ah, music to my ears.”

  We passed the huddle of City men in their weekend scruffs at the barbecue station, each one bragging about his own culinary skills, as Sebastian prodded meat that didn’t need prodding and poured marinade where it was not needed, clearly enjoying his macho position as provider. He was bare footed in khaki shorts and laughing as he moved around the barbecue in time to the music, stopping every now and then to play-wrestle one of his friends. He spotted us as we passed by and called out to Abby teasingly:

  “Come and give us a hand won’t you Abby?” Knowing full well that the whiff of barbecue was the last thing her hangover needed.

  Abigail stopped and looked at him. “Sebastian, I do hope you won’t be cremating dead flesh for too much longer. I just cannot stand it today.”

  “Don’t worry my precious,” he soothed mockingly, “I’ve got a nice big thick one for you right here.” At which the huddle of city boys instantly fell about guffawing and slapping him on his back. I rolled my eyes, reminding myself never to trust an investment banker IF I should ever come into money.

  “Er no thanks,” she said, the corners of her lips curling into a smile as she – being the only one of us – including Juju – who ever really got Seb’s jokes – tried to restrain herself from laughing with them. “Why don’t you give it to Julia? I’ve already had one today,” she quipped.

  “Oooh, touché Abigail,” Seb said grinning from ear to ear as the huddle roared. “Touché!” Sebastian was actually quite harmless and completely devoted to Julia. His taking her back after being dumped at the altar twice was testament to that. Flirting with Abigail was totally innocent as having known each other since kindergarten they were firm friends. And the fact that they had loved and subsequently lost their virginity to each other, had long since been chalked up as history.

  Julia parked herself next to us on the wicker sofa looking far too excited for a lazy Sunday afternoon. “Well? What do you think?” she happily gushed, directing her question at Abigail. Abigail and I looked at each other both equally confused.

  “Erm, what do I think about what Juju?” she said as though she were talking to a three-year-old.

  “About Bradley?!” I squinted my eyes and wondered if I had somehow missed a whole conversation since yesterday’s training and today’s soirée. Nope I didn’t think so.

  “Who’s Bradley?” I asked them both. Abigail shrugged her shoulders carelessly and Julia looked at me with open mouth as though I’d just let her down.

  “Bradley’s the guy I was telling you about! Duh!” I was still lost and apparently so was Abby.

  “Look Juju,” Abby leaned toward her, “I really can’t be arsed with your cryptic fucking clues today OK. Now do you want to just tell me what the fuck it is you’re babbling on about or not?” and took a swig of her vodka tonic.

  Julia exaggerated a frustrated sigh. “Bradley started working at Ivan Haus Investments a few months ago,” she explained. “He’s a commodities controller,” she whispered as if either of us had a scooby as to what this meant. “Well Seb gets on really well with him and he’s been over a few times.” I had to restrain myself from asking the inevitable: Sooo?

  Abigail, however, had no such control. “Sooo?!”

  “So, he’s a really cool guy…and he’s single.” Oh OK. I get it. Talk about going around the bloody houses! “I think you two would be great together Abby. You simply have to let me introduce you.”

  Abigail lowered her sunglasses a fraction and peeped heavy hooded eyes over the rim at Julia. “Not. Interested. Besides,” she yawned, “Sebastian whored me out in front of them all earlier.”

  “But Bradley just got here. He wouldn’t have heard,” Julia said glaring over at Sebastian who shrugged his shoulders, hands splayed out to the sides, whilst he mouthed to her, “What have I done now?”

  “Still not interested.”

  “But you haven’t even looked at him,” Julia sulked.

  “OK, where is he?”

  Julia’s face lit up and I had to admit I was a tad intrigued. Julia had been known to play cupid to many unsuspecting singles, myself included, and she was usually bang on the money, resulting in the Sunday crew being dominated by the instigated happy couples, but she had never ever before tried to fix Abby up with anyone. I had always assumed that Julia had resigned herself to the fact, just as I had, that some people – especially those with ostensibly insatiable sexual appetites – were better off alone.

  “He’s right over there by the bonsai garden,” she said hardly managing to contain herself. There were at least four or five City type guys over there animatedly arguing over which was the faster car; the Porsche or the Mercedes.

  Abby glanced over. “Well, which one is he for chrissakes?”

  “He’s the one wearing the baseball hat,” she giggled. I looked, but there was only one guy over there with a baseball hat on…and he didn’t seem to be Abby’s usual type. I sipped my red wine.

  Abigail turned slowly toward Julia, her mouth slightly open in what could only be described as…shock? She looked at Julia for a while and seemed to be trying to figure out if she was joking or not. Not. “The black guy?” she asked calmly.

  “Yes. That’s Bradley.”

  Abby turned and gave him another look over. “Well,” she said dismissively, “he’s no Idris Elba.” No. He was not Idris Elba – but equally as hot in my opinion. He was in his late twenties – early thirties at tops but exuded a confidence which gave him a certain air of supremacy. “Anyway, as I’ve already said: I am not interested.”

  “Oh.” Julia seemed genuinely disappointed. “Well, that’s a shame. I felt sure you two would be perfect for each other.”

  “And what on earth ever gave you that idea Juju?” Abby asked leaning back on the couch.

  “Well, I asked him why he was still single – as he’s obviously gorgeous and very successful – I’d have expected him to have been snapped up long ago. Well, he told me the kind of woman he was looking for was extremely hard to find. So then I said, well what kind of woman are you looking for Bradley? I know lots of lovely girls.” I sipped my wine with apprehension fully aware of Julia’s non-gift of tactfulness and hoping this tale wasn’t going to end in Abby clawing her eyes out. “But he just laughed and said that it wasn’t a lovely girl he was after.” Uh-oh. Here it comes. “He said he wanted a woman of diversity…that she had to be a lady in the streets, a cook in the kitchen and a complete whore in the bedroom,” she stated simply. I gulped my wine and nearly gagged as it flew down the wrong hole. I watched Abigail nervously for a reaction desperately praying that my two best friends were not about to fall out again, but whilst her face looked set, she didn’t look angry and I can’t say for certain but I thought I saw the beginnings of a faint suppressed smile.

  “Well Julia,” she said quietly, “what under heaven’s creation gives you the impression that I can cook?”

  Chapter Four

  “This year,” proclaimed Sebastian, “I’d like us to go there in style,” and inhaled deeply on a rather large spliff, sliding down further on the overcrowded divan.

  “I’m not driving,” moaned a red-eyed Humphrey, who also worked at Ivan House.

  “Oh god no, Humph. We don’t want to drive. Spoils the fun,” Seb said, passing the spliff to Humphrey.

  “Coaches were a bit of a disaster last year,” Humphrey grumbled, taking a few drags and passing the spliff to me. I shook my head no. “Righty-ho,” he acknowledged and passed it to Julia. “Some twat threw up all over the back seat didn’t he?”

  “Yes. Yes. That’s right. Some prick from acquisitions. I heard the ladies coach was much more exciting. Wasn’t it Becks,” he winked at me with a wicked grin. Julia nudged him a warning not to tease me about it. We were only in March and already making preliminary plans for Ladies Day at Ascot which was a good three months away. Royal Ascot was the most fashionable date
in the racing calendar and next to New Year’s Eve, the highlight of our entire year. We’d been going for the past several years and although it wasn’t quite what it used to be, due to every Tom, Dick, Sharon and Tracey that turned up on free booze day trips, it was still a bloody good day out. I’d have my outfit ear-marked months ahead and hat shopping with Abby and Juju was always great fun – trying to find the largest most flamboyant hat available. Ascot was also one of the few occasions each year where I would allow myself to drink more than my usual one glass of champagne, due to the sheer jubilance of the occasion and the mere fact that everyone else seemed to be downing bottles of it. Unfortunately my one glass rule had been implemented for very good reason – one glass was all I could handle before making a complete and utter arse out of myself. Which was exactly what had happened on the return coach last year, where for some inane reason I had stood up to start a rousing chorus of “for he’s a jolly good fella” in appreciation of our driver, when he – not appreciating me standing up whilst doing 70 miles per hour – promptly swung over to the hard shoulder throwing me tits over arse and landing with a bloody nose.

  “What? Oh yars, yars,” Humphrey agreed, “I also heard it was JOLLY good fun on the ladies coach,” and guffawed whilst snorting like a pig at the same time. Seb sniggered, the most he could do with Julia curled up in his arms.

  I rolled my eyes at them both. “Ha! How funny,” I said dryly and saw the smile instantly leave Sebastian’s face, which took on a look of seriousness as he pushed Julia off his lap, straightened up, all the time looking past me in the distance.

  “Oh bloody hell,” he said flatly.

  “What?” I asked as Julia made a ‘shit, what do we do now’ face.

  “Alright guys?” a familiar voice said. I immediately swivelled around to face him. He looked like he’d been sleeping rough the past few nights and his usual effervescent quality had been replaced by a far more subdued one. I suddenly realised that this was the first time in two years I had come here on my own, not being part of a couple. And I hadn’t even really missed him. I also realised that this place on a Sunday was as much a part of Jeremy’s routine as it was mine. I wondered where he’d been all day and if he had eaten. He looked so meek I had to stop myself from jumping up and fixing him a plate. I looked over at Julia who was of no help whatsoever, as her facial expression said exactly what she was thinking: Aaah poor Jerrers.

  Abigail appeared out of nowhere and stood in front of him. “What the bloody hell are you doing here?!” she spat at him.

  “Abigail!” Sebastian, being the only person who ever could, silenced her. “It’s not your business. Butt out now!” She opened her mouth as if to protest. “Now!” Then she threw her nose in the air at Jeremy and took a seat, protectively, next to me.

  “Hey guys,” he managed, “don’t worry. I’m not staying. I just wanted to have a chat with Rebecca…and as she’s not returning my phone calls…well, here I am.”

  “Jeremy,” I started, “I’m not returning your phone calls because I do not want to talk to you!”

  “Rebecca! We’ve been together for years! I’ve fucked up! We really do need to talk!”

  A little voice behind me said, “Oh Becky you really do need to talk to him.” Sebastian, Abigail and I all glared at Julia. “Well, you do,” she pleaded. “You can’t ignore it forever sweetie.”

  “Fine!” I snapped and marched off toward the far end of the terrace with Jeremy in hot pursuit, both of us being watched by the mostly stoned Sunday crew. “What do you want to talk about Jeremy?” I asked with folded arms, trying to sound as tough as possible. Problem was I didn’t feel at all tough. Like jelly would’ve been a more accurate description of my current state of feeling. He looked like a lost puppy, and totally adorable in his vulnerability. I wanted desperately to cuddle and kiss him. This was so not right. He was my Jerrers. We were a couple. A team. This same time last Sunday we were both here curled up beside Juju and Seb, teasing Abby and planning for Ascot. It would never ever have crossed my mind that last Sunday was to be the last time we ventured out together anywhere – as a couple. And why?! Because he’d succumbed to the voluptuous charms of some immoral strumpet! Was he insane to think he could cheat on me and carry on as normal? “As you were”, so to speak. What on earth would make him think that? A dreadful thought suddenly crossed my mind and my lips literally trembled as I asked him: “Jeremy, this isn’t the first time you’ve cheated on me is it?” He groaned deeply, sadly, ran his fingers habitually through his hair, and his eyes started searching the ground again for the answer. “Well? Is it?”

  “No, it’s not the first time,” he whispered.

  “Hah!” A lump the size of a golf ball instantly materialised at the back of my throat and angry humiliated tears started stinging at my eyes as I glared at him willing myself to stay strong and not give him the satisfaction of ever seeing me cry. I tried to remember all Abigail’s little nuggets of support: “good riddance to bad rubbish”, and all that. I wanted to hurl filthy abuse at him but reminded myself that one should always do ones best to remain ladylike at all times – even whilst one is confronting cheating ex-boyfriend. After all, Audrey Hepburn would never have thrown an embarrassing hissy. She would have simply held her beautiful head up high and asked quite calmly: “Is there anything else you’d like to discuss Jeremy? Only I’d rather not waste anymore time standing here with you.”

  His mouth fell open in surprise at my reaction. “Well…well yes, damnit! Look Rebecca I’m crazy about you and want to spend the rest of my life with you. I should never have cheated.” What he meant was he should never have got caught! I looked at him, doing my best to feign disinterest. He picked up momentum. “Not one of those girls meant a thing to me Becks. There were just…just a bit of fluff. Rebecca please, you’re killing me. Just…please let me make it up to you. I promise I will never so much as even look at another woman.” And that was it? He wanted to make it up to me? Humph! Abigail was right. He’d taken me for a fool all these years and was still taking me for one now. I stuck my chin in the air and even managed a faint smile.

  “Is that all?” I asked sweetly.

  “What?!”

  “Is. That. All?”

  “Well yes! I want us to get back together Becks. This is madness!” His ‘meekness’, probably also feigned, was fast wearing off, as the arrogance I was used to, began to quickly resurface.

  “No.”

  “What do you mean no?” he asked as if I had just refused a four-week rollover jackpot on the euro lottery.

  “My answer is no. I don’t want to be with you anymore Jeremy.” I said summoning every iota of strength in my body preventing me from hurling my screaming hysterical self at him, in what would surely have been a most unforgettable scene for the Sunday crew.

  “Rebecca…”

  “No,” I repeated looking him dead in the eye.

  “Are you absolutely sure about this Becks?”

  “I have never been more certain about anything in my entire life.”

  Chapter Five

  I had never been more uncertain about anything in my entire life.

  There was no other option of course. At least none that had a hope in hell of ending anywhere close to well. Even I know that once a man strays he will always stray. No. I couldn’t be with Jeremy anymore, but I wasn’t exactly skipping through the meadows at the thought of being without him. The past four years of my life had been wrapped up in all things Jeremy and if truth be told it was pretty damned difficult to imagine a day, yet alone the looming years ahead, without him. I realise now that there were a lot of things – little things – about having a man around the house that I would happily take for granted. Like putting the garbage out. I mean, where do I put it? And what day do they collect it even? And how the bloody hell will I change a fuse in the fuse box without electrocuting myself, the next time something trips the system, which was a regular occurrence around here! And where, more importantly, was the sodding
thing anyway? And thinking of little things which I’m going to miss, whilst we weren’t tying each other up with leather straps or dripping hot candle wax over our oiled bodies every night, our sex life was good. And yes, I will miss it. BUT, I shall happily embrace celibacy because even that has got to be better than the mere possibility of ever reliving this tragedy. With my hand on my heart, if I had known four years ago when I first met Jeremy that he was going to turn out to be a serial cheater – I would never have gotten involved. But hindsight really is a useless fucker. What use is it now? Should have given me a glimpse back when it would’ve made a difference.