Bella Summer Takes a Chance (12 page)

‘I played this stupid. He’ll never get in touch.’

‘I think he will,’ James said. ‘I know exactly what he’s thinking. Trust me, he’ll be in touch.’

‘How do you know what he’s thinking?’

‘This may have escaped your notice, but I am a man. You said the sex was good, right? Granted, it was a mistake to be in touch so much, and definitely a mistake to call him and offer to meet up whenever he wants. You’ve told him you’re available to him, so he won’t prioritize you. He knows he can have you, so to speak, any time he wants. You need to be unavailable.’

‘How do I let him know I’m unavailable when he isn’t calling?’

‘Don’t call him. Don’t email, don’t text. No contact. Eventually he’ll start thinking “I wonder what happened to B.? I haven’t heard from her in awhile.” And then he’ll think, “The sex was really good.” And he’ll be in touch.’

‘For sex.’

He nodded.

‘But I don’t just want to have sex with him.’

‘B., you’ve got to understand how a man’s mind works. Sex is the goal. Honestly, it’s a numbers game for us. We’ll sleep with as many women as we can. Before we develop feelings, I mean. Feelings come way after sex for us. That’s the irony. When you sleep with a bloke, it’s an emotional act. For us, it’s just physical. I really do think he’ll be in touch again. So play it cool when he does call. Tell him you’ve been busy and when he asks you out, say you’d like to see him but you’re busy on this, this and this night, but free on that night. He’s the man, he should do the pursuing. Trust me, he’ll chase if you’re unavailable. Dating is all a bit of a game. Like it or not, you have to play if you want to date. So let him pursue you a bit. The more available you make yourself, the less likely he is to prioritise seeing you, because he knows he can see you anytime he’s free. Play him at his own game, don’t contact him and let him arrange the next meeting. When he hears you’ve been busy he’ll re-prioritise you in his mind without even realising it.’

I knew he knew what he was talking about. He had a penis, after all. ‘And if he gets in touch and we go out? Don’t sleep with him, right?’

‘You can sleep with him if you want to, as long as that doesn’t make you emotionally attached to him. But maybe try meeting on neutral ground and getting to know each other a bit better. If he doesn’t want to do that, then he’s just in it for the sex and if that’s not what you want, at least you know and don’t have to waste your time with him. And call me before you answer him when he gets in touch. I’ll advise.’

He kept saying ‘when’. I couldn’t let myself think beyond ‘if’. ‘Did you have to play these games, Kat, you and James?’

‘No,’ he said.

‘Of course,
Suesse
,’ she interrupted. James gaped at his wife. ‘James, darling, don’t look so surprised. You didn’t really think you were in control, did you?’

‘Well, I did until now. What games were you playing?’ His tone was teasing but his question, I could see, was serious.

‘Oh goodness, I don’t remember now, it was so long ago. Little ones only,
Liebchen
, don’t worry. You didn’t marry me under any false pretences.’

His squinting gaze told me he wasn’t so sure. ‘James,’ I said. ‘Tell me about when you met Kat. How did you know you were in love?’ Kat might not admit it, but James would.

‘You know we met in a bar. I saw her across a crowded room.’

‘You spilled a drink on me.’

‘But I saw you first.
Then
I spilled a drink on you.’

‘You touched my breast.’

‘Only to clean up the drink, darling. You were soaked. She was soaked.’

‘I thought he was immature.’

‘I thought you were pretty.’

‘You were drunk. You thought everyone was pretty. He asked for my number. And he asked my friend.’

‘For your number?’

‘For her number. She said no.’

‘James!’ I said. ‘Two-timing at the first meeting?’

‘I was playing the odds. And it
was
only our first meeting. So it isn’t two-timing. But Kat’s right, her friend said no. And I’m glad she did.’ He kissed Kat on the forehead as she wrinkled her nose.

‘So when did you know you were in love?’

They stared at each other. Then Kat said, ‘I’ve told you. In love…’ She made finger dittos and a moony face. ‘… Doesn’t exist. We are best friends. We love each other. You should stop with your romantic notions. They’re pie in the clouds dreams.’

‘They’re not! James. James, you were in love with Kat, right? When you asked her to marry you?’

He shook his head, smiling. ‘Kat’s right, B., it didn’t work that way for us. We went out for a few years, on and off as you know, and got to know each other. The more I learned about Kat, the more I respected her. We enjoyed each other, and we had the same outlook on life. I knew she’d be an amazing mother, and someone I could depend on. Getting married was the next logical step.’

‘Are you telling me you don’t believe in love either? What are you, Klingons?’

‘Realists, B.,’ he said. ‘I– I believe in love. I just don’t believe that that crazy in love feeling is sustainable. Or healthy.’

That sounded like judgment to me. ‘You still think I was wrong to leave Mattias.’

‘I’m sorry, but look at you two. He’s in denial that you’ve even broken up and you’re not exactly finding your one true love out there. I just think you had a good thing. Maybe you could have it again, and find that spark you’re missing.’

‘Has Mattias said something?’

James hesitated. ‘He says a lot of things. Have you thought about giving it another try? Maybe you just needed the break to realise that what you have is at least as good as being in love.’

‘James was in love once,’ said Kat. ‘She broke his heart, didn’t she,
Liebchen
?’

‘Yes,’ he murmured. ‘She did. Ah, B., I can’t advise you because everyone’s different. But I wouldn’t go through that again for all the tea in China. I’ll take a steady relationship over the roller-coaster ride any day. It’s sustainable.’

‘Sustainable. James, we’re not talking about green energy or economic systems. It’s your heart, not your head. Listen, this isn’t some idea I’ve just come up with all on my own. Millions of people fall in love, billions, probably. They meet someone and they know that’s the person they’re meant to be with. They just know. Billions of people can’t be wrong. Those people are following their hearts, not making a rational decision based on what’s good for them. Who’s to say one way is better than the other?’

‘You are,’ Kat pointed out.

‘What?’

‘You’re saying that the romantic ideal of love is the better way. You’re saying it exists, as a real thing and not just some hormonal change, and you’re saying that romantic love is the sustainable love. Or whatever non-buzzword you want to use.’

‘Well, isn’t it possible that I’m right? That those billions are right? I had “sustainable”, and it wasn’t enough.’

‘How do you know that, B.?’ asked James. ‘When you don’t know what the alternative is?’

‘I don’t know it. It’s not about knowing. It’s about feeling.’ They nodded, not looking convinced. I wasn’t so sure I was convinced either.

I couldn’t deny that Mattias was creeping back into my mind. It wasn’t the sharp, mouth-watering craving that hit me when I remembered Mum’s chocolate-chip cookies or smelled freshly baked bread. That’s how I thought of The Musician. Mattias engendered more of the wistful feeling I had sometimes in the middle of the day, when I was tired and thought of my soft, warm bed.

I should have listened to James about The Musician. Turning up at his gig was
not
playing it cool. I wasn’t invited. It didn’t matter what Faith said, it bordered on stalking. Bordered on stalking? I was Glenn Close just before she dropped the rabbit in the pot.

‘Stop being so old-fashioned. He told you when the gig was, right?’ Faith peered at me from beneath a jaunty red beret, her interpretation of jazzy cool. I only just convinced her not to wear the white patent go-go boots by reminding her that it wasn’t a beat poetry reading, and that she wasn’t Edie Sedgwick. ‘And he did suggest that you come.’

‘Only in passing, weeks ago. And technically, before we’d slept together, not after.’

‘That doesn’t negate the invitation. And he showed up at your gig, and brought his friend to meet you. That means something. You have to seize these opportunities. But in honour of our friendship I’ll make a wee concession to your cowardliness. We can hover back here by the bar.’

The tiny fizz in my belly felt a lot like excitement. Despite his slightly off-putting bedroom habits, I wanted to see him again. James was right. I’d been too available at first, but then I held strong, and hadn’t contacted him. Though being at his place of employment could be construed as contacting him, if you took an unkind, strictly literal interpretation. Which any sane person would do. ‘Faith, maybe we shouldn’t be here at all. I’m having second thoughts, let’s go.’

‘But his set just ended. Look, he’s right over there. You should at least say hello. We came all the way here.’

It didn’t feel right. He didn’t invite me. I wasn’t sure I could handle the rejection if he looked spooked when he saw me. ‘No, let’s go.’

‘Don’t be such a shrinking violet. Good things don’t come to those who wait. Leftovers come to those who wait. Remember the Sherpa?’

‘No.’

‘Yes, you do. Really cute, owned the Nepalese travel company? Played video games?’ I nodded, remembering her distaste at the idea of a grown man owning an Xbox. ‘The point is, he wouldn’t have asked me out if I hadn’t taken the bull by the horns and booked those tickets for the travel show to accidentally-on-purpose run into him. You’re not going to lose anything by going over to say a quick hello. Then we’ll disappear like sprites in a puff of smoke. Leave him craving your fabulousness.’ She stepped behind me, shoved me in the back and said, ‘Start walking. You’ll thank me later.’

The next sixty seconds happened in slow motion, but without the benefit of a rewind button. I walked towards The Musician. He looked up, saw me. I smiled. He smiled. A woman approached from the other side as he turned to me. She touched his arm, startling him. He turned. She kissed him on the lips, wrapping her arms around his neck. He grasped her waist. I was scant feet away, still walking toward them. A little voice in my head shouted, ‘Abort mission, abort mission!’ It was too late.

‘Hey, B., what are you doing here?’ He asked, kissing me. On the lips. I felt his tongue. His arm was draped over the woman’s shoulder. It couldn’t be happening. I turned to look at Faith but she’d peeled off to stand near the door. A handy position in case an ambulance needed to be called.

‘I remembered you said you were playing tonight. We thought we’d come hear you.’

‘And what’d you think?’ He was stroking her arm with his thumb.

What did I think? What did I think?! I thought that if you were fucking me you wouldn’t be standing here calmly stroking another woman. ‘Good, I thought it was good. Well, see you round.’

‘Hey, don’t go. Why don’t you sit down and have a drink?’ When I perched on the chair he offered, he said, ‘This is Lola. Lola, this is B.’

‘Oh, hello, B. Pleasure to meet you,’ she said, smiling levelly at me. Her hair was black and smooth, so shiny it was nearly blue. Gamine was the word probably most often used to describe her. She wasn’t more than 5 foot 2, birdlike. I felt like a giraffe next to her.

I watched her closely as she poured me a glass of wine from the bottle on the table. She seemed to harbour no ill will toward me. Perhaps I’d misread the situation. Maybe she was just a friend. A good friend. Or his sister. No, not his sister. That wasn’t a sisterly kiss unless they were from Norfolk. A good friend, then. Nothing to worry about. ‘Nice to meet you too. Okay, I’ll stay for a drink. Oh, my friend Faith is with me, can she?’

‘Of course, the more the merrier,’ said Lola. There was definitely nothing to worry about. She didn’t wear the proprietary glare of a woman who thought someone was trying to steal her man. By which I meant the look I’d have seen reflected back at me had I looked in a mirror. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions, but you had to admit, it did look odd. It just proved how easily things could get twisted. I’d probably misconstrued dozens of innocent situations, applying sinister intent when there wasn’t any.

Faith took two nanoseconds to get to the table after I waved her over. Introductions were made, wine was poured and we settled down with The Musician manwiched between Lola and me.

Something was niggling, though. To make a completely non-suspicious observation, it was odd that they held hands, and that his thumb was caressing the back of hers.

‘Lola,’ Faith asked. ‘How do you two know each other?’ My friend was flashing me signals but I couldn’t read them.

‘We met through friends about, what was it, darling, two years ago? Yes, almost two years ago. But we didn’t go out right away. You didn’t like me at first, did you?’ She jostled The Musician playfully.

‘That’s not true, I did like you!’

‘You wouldn’t know it. It took him about six months to get round to asking me out.’

‘Oh,’ I said, hopefully without too much disappointment. ‘So you went out, then? And you’re still friends. That’s great.’ Read: look how cool I am about this when I really feel a little sick.

‘We still go out.’

‘You what?’ Faith said.

‘As friends?’ I said.

‘Doesn’t she know?’ Lola asked her boyfriend.

‘I may not have mentioned it.’ At least he had the decency to look sheepish. The bastard.

‘You bastard.’ Lola withdrew her hand. ‘Why didn’t you tell her?’

‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry, B., I should have told you.’

‘You and Lola go out?’ I shouldn’t have had such a hard time with the concept when it wasn’t exactly complicated. This man, with whom I’d had sex, twice, was cheating on his girlfriend. With me, the other woman. ‘Ah, well, I think we should leave you alone to talk. Er, thanks for the drink. Ready, Faith?’

‘No, B., you’ve misunderstood!’ Lola said. ‘Faith, please stay. He didn’t cheat on me.’ She clasped his hand again.