by Nina Kaye
GrahamLeeton: No need to feel stupid. Ashamed will do just fine. ;)
‘You bugger!’ I shout at the screen, laughing.
‘Chica, you are coming back to join us?’
I look up and see that Reyes has entered the ladies’ toilets without me even noticing.
‘Oh, sorry, yes.’ I quickly fire back a humorous retort, letting GrahamLeeton know that I have to go for now, but I’ll be able to chat later.
‘You are messaging with your online boyfriend?’ Reyes’s dark eyes are twinkling. ‘While your real-life boyfriend is out there. I am impressed with this new chica.’
‘He’s not my boyfriend.’ I drop my phone back into my bag. ‘Neither of them are my boyfriend.’
‘Josh is not even?’ Reyes looks at me, puzzled.
‘Not officially.’ I shrug. ‘We haven’t made things exclusive yet. Anyway, GrahamLeeton is just someone I have an intellectual and spiritual connection with. We enjoy good conversation. That’s all.’
‘Of course.’ Reyes regards me knowingly. ‘That is all.’
I realise I’m not fooling either of us, but before I can say anything else, she disappears into one of the cubicles, so I head back to join the others.
‘Here, Liv, try this.’ Amir sticks a glass in my face the moment I rejoin him and Josh. ‘It’s got a blinking tree in it. But it’s amazing!’
I take the drink from him and hold it at a distance so I can actually focus on it. It does indeed have what appears to be a cutting from a pine tree in it.
Alan jovially fills me in on the goings-on. ‘I’m demonstrating some more unusual garnishes, to offer interesting alternatives to the commonly used ones, such as fruit and cucumber.’
‘I see.’ I take a sip and my taste buds immediately burst to life from the zingy flavour combination. ‘Wow, that is amazing. It’s kind of fresh, natural, outdoorsy… almost medicinal.’
‘Great adjectives, Liv!’ Alan claps his hands together jubilantly. ‘And that’s what it’s all about. Don’t just describe your selection of gins in your drinks menus. Get talking to your customers about them. Use adjectives that tickle their taste buds. If they hear the words, they’ll have the experience. Take them on their own tour – in their minds.’
‘Who’s the teacher’s pet now?’ Josh grins with pride, like I’m his prize pooch.
Reyes rejoins us and we get properly stuck in, tasting one drink after the other.
‘Another tip,’ Alan announces. ‘You obviously need great pairings, but don’t always pair the same gin with the same garnishes. Try this.’
He lines up an array of shot-sized glasses sporting three different gin and tonics: one similar to before, with a miniature sprig of pine in it, one garnished with sage, and the other with a tiny slice of orange. We (other than Josh) breathe in the unique aromas and then sip at them, taking the time to let the flavour of each one develop in our mouths before swallowing. I move from the medicinal pine, to the earthy herbal smoothness brought through by the sage, and finally on to the zesty, fruity, sharpness of the drink paired with orange. It’s a truly educational tasting experience.
‘They are all tasting so wonderful. So different.’ Reyes looks truly amazed. ‘I am expecting some of this, but with these three drinks, they are almost like different gins. They are not?’
‘No.’ Alan shakes his head. ‘They even have the same tonic.’
‘You are magician.’ Reyes looks at him in awe, and for a moment I wonder if she’s going to follow up with the words ‘sexy Scotsman magician’, but thankfully, she doesn’t.
‘That’s what we do, isn’t it?’ I turn to Amir. ‘We have an assigned garnish for each of our gins. Maybe we need to be a bit more creative.’
‘Definitely,’ Amir agrees. ‘We can work through some new ideas back at the bar.’
As he says this, my mind automatically flits to GrahamLeeton’s comment that I can perhaps use some of what I’ve learned today in my blogging. Without thinking, I pull my phone out of my bag and illuminate the screen to see if he’s replied.
‘Who’s GrahamLeeton?’ Josh leans over and kisses my shoulder.
‘Oh… err… just a friend,’ I stammer, realising my error. ‘Someone I know from uni. We chat online from time to time.’
My eyes meet those of Reyes, who gives me a ‘busted’ look. I shake my head to signal that Josh didn’t actually see any of the message. Replacing my phone in my bag, more out of guilt than anything, I focus my full attention on him. Josh, apparently none the wiser, seems happy about this: obviously cheered by the fact that I’ve enjoyed having him along for the trip after all.
I feel immensely guilty, like a deceitful cheat. But how can it be cheating if Josh and I haven’t taken things to the next level yet – it still feels like we’re just casually dating. Anyway, I’ve never met GrahamLeeton, let alone touched him, kissed him or anything more. All we do is talk. Sure, I feel a connection with him, some sort of attachment; probably even fancy him – or the ideal of him I have in my mind. But it’s not like anything is ever going to happen. Not when I’m never likely to even meet him.
Chapter 23
‘I need to meet him.’
‘Huh?’ Dylan regards me absently. ‘You need to meet who?’
‘She is speaking about her online hombre.’ Reyes gives me a cheeky wink as she plonks our drinks in front of us.
It’s early evening, and while Josh and Amir have had to go back to work for the evening shift, myself and Reyes have taken advantage of our early finish from our gin distillery visit by heading through the now lashing rain, straight to the pub – our usual post-work haunt off Mayfield Road. Dylan, having found out via text that I’m with Reyes, has, in true stalker-style, turned up uninvited to salivate over her.
‘Her online what?’ Dylan looks confused.
‘Hombre.’ Reyes mouths this very slowly and clearly, as if this will help.
‘Like me, he doesn’t speak Spanish,’ I clarify. ‘Hombre is Spanish for man, Dylan.’
‘Right.’ Dylan nods easily. ‘Yeah, I knew that actually. Just didn’t get it because of the accent.’
‘Is that right?’ I raise an eyebrow at him, fully aware he’s just saying that to try and impress Reyes.
‘Yeah, it is actually.’ He shoots me a look. ‘Anyway, back to your limitations. So, you’re still two-timing Josh?’
‘Hey, I’m not two-timing anyone,’ I complain. ‘We’re not exclusive.’
‘Whatever. You keep telling yourself that.’ Dylan shakes his head at me. ‘I’d have thought you’d have canned the chat with your online stalker by now.’
‘He’s not a stalker.’ I huff, then mutter under my breath, ‘Not like some people I know.’
Dylan throws me another warning look, but Reyes doesn’t even register this frosty interchange.
‘Look.’ I exhale loudly, taking a slug from my gin and tonic. ‘I don’t mean any disrespect to Josh. He’s an amazing guy. He really is. I like him a lot, and I can almost see something long-term coming from what we have. But… there’s something missing. He doesn’t challenge me. I need him to stimulate my mind as well as…’
I trail off, realising that I can’t finish my sentence – not without sparking a domino effect, and I’m not in the mood for any smutty chat tonight.
‘Go on.’ Dylan looks amused.
Reyes also appears ready to pounce, sexual innuendos being something she is surprisingly alert to, given the other topics that go right over her head.
‘Stop it. Both of you,’ I complain. ‘I’m being serious. I need your help. Josh is a truly amazing guy. But there’s something there with GrahamLeeton too. I have a connection with him that I’ve never encountered with anyone else. He’s helping me to find the real me again.’
‘What do you mean, Chica?’ Reyes asks.
‘I mean the person who gave a shit about things that really matter, rather than just making money, fitting into the corporate world and chasing a career. Things like the
serious stuff in the world, like politics and the environment; and that I hate how some people have so much while others have so little.’
‘I did notice your principles had made a reappearance,’ Dylan jokes.
‘Right?’ I’m enthused by this comment. ‘He’s really sharp too. He makes me laugh like crazy – but in an intelligent way. I’m hooked when I’m talking to him. I’ve trawled the internet trying to get some clue as to who he is, but I’ve come up with nothing. I need to find out who he is, if he’s the full package… seriously, stop it. Both of you.’
Dylan and Reyes share a delighted look.
‘So, you think that this GrahamLeeton is your dream hombre?’ Reyes asks.
‘No. Maybe. I don’t know.’ I throw my hands up in the air helplessly. ‘All I know is that by not knowing, I’m building him up in my head. Now he’s taking up so much room, I need to know if it’s all worthwhile. Or if I’m totally wasting my time.’
Dylan takes out his tobacco and papers, and starts to roll himself a cigarette. ‘The whole thing just smells off to me, Squirt. Even the fact you call him by his full name, like it’s some kind of artistic tag.’
‘It’s his username, idiot. Like mine is MissGinFizz.’
‘Whatever.’ Dylan shrugs. ‘Well, I tell you straight off, with a name like GrahamLeeton, and him using his full name online, I’d put any money on it that he’s over fifty, fat, bald – and probably a paedophile.’
He seals his cigarette and offers it to Reyes, who, to my surprise, accepts it. Dylan then starts to roll a second one for himself. I regard him witheringly.
‘If he’s a paedophile, then why’s he spending all his spare time talking to a grown woman?’
‘OK… then he’s in prison. Or worse, he’s a serial killer.’ Dylan looks at me pointedly. ‘And he’s sizing you up as his next victim.’
‘I am thinking I have watched crime programme like this.’ Reyes, suddenly wide-eyed, nearly chokes on her pint. ‘Chica, you must be careful. Maybe Dylan is right. You are in dangers.’
‘I’m not in danger.’ I snort and shake my head. ‘You two are as bad as each other. He doesn’t know anything personal about me. He said he would never ask, and we’ve never even talked about meeting up either. This is all me.’
‘That’s how he does it.’ Dylan continues to wind me up. ‘He lets you think you’re the one in control. Bit by bit, you start to open up, unaware that in the background he’s piecing all these bits of information together. Then one day—’
‘That’s enough, thank you, Dylan.’ I shut him down. ‘Do me a favour and go have your bloody cigarette, will you.’
Dylan looks self-satisfied as he and Reyes get up and put on their jackets, then his face turns serious. ‘You know I’m joking. But in a way, I’m not. Just be careful, yeah?’
‘I hear you. Go on, get out.’ My face is dismissive, but I’m secretly pleased that I have my own big-brother type to look after me.
As they head out of the door, I pull my phone out of my bag and find I have messages from both the men in my life.
Josh’s message with its usual open affection:
Hey beautiful. Enjoyed our trip together today. Can I come over when I finish tonight? Around 10.30 p.m.?
GrahamLeeton’s is simply asking when I’m free to chat, which will now need to be before 10.30 p.m. As I reply to each of them, another jolt of guilt rushes through me. Am I really a two-timer? I don’t want to be that. I need to sort this.
Around 8 p.m., I arrive back at my flat and start chatting with GrahamLeeton straight away, while making myself a late dinner. With Dylan’s earlier words in my mind, I’m determined this will be a conversation with purpose. This time I’m looking for answers instead of our usual thought-provoking – but at the same time inspiring and entertaining – conversation.
MissGinFizz: OK, I’m finally free! Are you there?
He replies within seconds.
GrahamLeeton: At last! I’ve been watching my phone screen for the last three hours. Don’t think I’ve even blinked.
MissGinFizz: Ha, yeah, so you have. You’ll have missed dinner then too?
GrahamLeeton: Helps the waistline. How was the tasting session?
As I read this, Dylan’s image of a paunchy, late middle-aged man pops into my mind. I bat it away and type out my response.
MissGinFizz: It was fun. And educational actually. I thought I knew enough about gin, but there’s so much more to it.
GrahamLeeton: It does seem to be about more than just ordering a G&T these days. What gin? What tonic? What garnish? What flavour of ice?
MissGinFizz: What flavour of ice???
GrahamLeeton: Was just checking you were paying attention. :)
MissGinFizz: That actually sounds like something that could work. With the right flavour combinations, of course.
GrahamLeeton: Something you could explore? I’d definitely try that if I came across it in a bar. The flavour of the drink changes as you drink it – as the ice melts. So instead of becoming watery, your drink becomes fruity, or something??
MissGinFizz: I love that! Thanks for the idea. I’ll definitely look into that one.
GrahamLeeton: You’re totally welcome.
My fingers hover over the keyboard as I try to think of my ‘in’. How can I ask some of the questions I want to pose to him, without them seeming premeditated? I quickly become mentally paralysed. A top communications professional I am, but only if I have twenty or so minutes to think about things first. I don’t do top-class on-the-spot creations. Although, from my experience, neither do many of the people who think they do.
GrahamLeeton: You’re not doing it right now, are you? The ice will take a while to freeze.
MissGinFizz: Sorry, I was just thinking about something.
GrahamLeeton: Something good or something bad?
MissGinFizz: I’m not sure it’s either. Just… some questions I have.
GrahamLeeton: For me?
How do I do this? I don’t want to scare him off, or get his back up because I’ve broken our (sort of) unspoken rule. But I can’t not ask either. It’s eating me up. I need not to be a cheat, or feel like one.
GrahamLeeton: I’ll take that second long pause as a yes. Whatever it is, just ask.
MissGinFizz: OK… here goes…
MissGinFizz: Today I was talking about you with a couple of friends, and they laughed that I call you GrahamLeeton, rather than just Graham. But usernames are different to real names. I mean, my real name is obviously not MissGinFizz. And even though yours does seem like it’s your actual name, I can’t just assume and call you Graham, can I?
I sit back and read my words on the screen, screwing up my face in embarrassment. Never have I been so incoherent in the [virtual] presence of this man.
GrahamLeeton: You can call me Graham.
MissGinFizz: Oh, OK, great. And you can call me…
I pause, and suddenly panic. He can call me what? Gin? Hardly. I blink at the screen, stuck on what to say next. Should I give him my name too? What if he’s not actually a Graham at all? Dylan’s serial killer comments momentarily float into my mind. Thankfully GrahamLeeton’s perceptiveness saves the situation once again.
GrahamLeeton: I think I’d like to stick with MissGinFizz, actually. It’s rather alluring.
MissGinFizz: OK… great?
GrahamLeeton: Yes. Great. What’s your next question?
I take a deep breath. How do I even approach the whole meeting-up thing? Should I even do so after what Dylan said? Oh, shut up, Dylan. I can do the whole public place thing. It will be fine. And who says we’ll even be able to meet. I don’t know if he lives in Palawan or Preston. Yes – maybe that’s exactly where to start.
MissGinFizz: I know you said at the start there would be no sharing of personal details, but now that we’ve been talking for a while, I feel like I know you. But I actually don’t. I don’t even know what country you live in, or what age you are, even roughly – I’d never as
k your exact age. Oh dear, I’m rambling…
GrahamLeeton: I live in the UK. And I’m old enough to drink, but not yet drawing my pension. Does that help? ;)
Does it? A little fizz of excitement bubbles in my stomach at knowing he’s in the same country, but we’re not out of the woods yet in relation to Dylan’s age-range prediction. I can’t really ask him to narrow it down though.
MissGinFizz: Yes, that helps. Thank you. I’m in the UK too, and also within that cavernous age range. ;) My friend thinks you’re a serial killer by the way.
GrahamLeeton: Sounds like your friend watches too much TV.
MissGinFizz: That’s probably accurate.
GrahamLeeton: Just to tick off a few more options, I’m not a (non-serial) killer, thief or con man either. Nor am I married/cohabiting/in a relationship. Just in case you were wondering.
I gasp. That’s a definite pointer. He’s offering me an ‘in’. Isn’t he? I need to grab this opportunity.
MissGinFizz: Good to know. Well in that case, do you think that we could maybe meet up? In person? I’d really like to meet you – properly.
I wait for his response, but it doesn’t come immediately. Or even quickly. I impatiently tap my fingers on my laptop casing. Why’s he taking so long? Have I misread the situation and scared him off? My palms start to feel tacky. Just as I’m working myself into an overreacting frenzy, he replies.
GrahamLeeton: I’d love to meet you in person. But I can’t. Not yet. There are some complications in my life, so now is not good. But when the time is right, I promise.
When the time is right? What does that even mean? That could be in a month or a decade. Or it could be never. Has he just fobbed me off? Why have we been chatting every day for weeks, building this amazing connection, if he doesn’t even want to meet me?
I feel so disappointed and confused by his answer, I find it hard to gather myself. I try to keep the conversation going, but the vibrancy has dissipated. After a while, I wrap things up, and try to busy myself doing a few bits and pieces around my apartment before the real-life and totally uncomplicated Josh arrives.
Next morning, I waken groggily, and on feeling Josh’s strong protective arm around me, instinctively snuggle into him for extra comfort, hoping I’ll nod off again. No such luck. As I come to, my mind immediately kicks into full capacity, replaying the events of the last twelve hours over and over. GrahamLeeton – now just Graham – and the tentative steps forward we made, but then feeling like I’ve fallen down a manhole after I asked him about meeting up.
