Kismetology (18 page)

Oh! Ron has just leaned across the table, lifted her hand up
and kissed it. Yikes. Mum looks impressed. The whole gesture is a little too
sickly for me. I can envision beating Dan across the head with my handbag if he
was to try something like that on me. But we’re not from their generation. It’s
nice that Mum is impressed by that. Unless she’s acting. Crikey. I hadn’t
thought of that. What if this is another Jeff, and they have a great date, and
then she screams "
I never want to see you again in my life
!"
in the car on the way home? I have to do something. But what? I can’t draw any
attention to myself. I can’t beckon Ron over and give him the "
keep
doing what you’re doing
" speech. I can’t send over a bottle of
champagne. Ooh, maybe I can?

I beckon the bartender over to me. He has been casting me
strange looks all night. I think he may have informed the management that there
is a suspicious person on the premises.

"Can I send a bottle of champagne to that table
anonymously?"

"Huh?" He looks at me like I’m crazy. Join the
queue, mate.

"You know. I want to send a nice bottle of champagne
over to that couple." I point at them. "But under no circumstances
are they to know it’s from me. Just tell them it’s complimentary from the bar
or something. Can you do that? Without saying a word about me?"

He looks me over, as if considering whether I’m about to
pull out a gun and hold up the place.

"Yes," he says, eventually. "Just tell me
what you want."

I shrug. "I don’t know. How much is your nicest, most
expensive bottle?"

"Seven hundred quid."

Bugger. Do people actually spend that much on booze? I
wince. "Okay, how about one in the hundred quid range?"

"Yeah, I can do that. We have a nice one for ninety
nine pounds."

"That’d be great," I say. Thank god that I have Dan’s
credit card on me and know his pin number. He is so going to regret the day he
told me that one. I hand it over to pay. "Please, make sure you mention
nothing about it being sent from here. Or from anyone in this bar, otherwise
they’ll start looking around for me."

"What are you, anyway? Some kind of spy?"

"Something like that," I say. "But more
unprofessional."

He laughs.

"Thanks," I tell him when he has put the
transaction through.

I watch as he delivers the bottle in an ice bucket. Very
nice. Mum’s face lights up and Ron looks very pleased. Result! Dan is going to
kill me for spending a hundred quid on champagne that wasn’t even for us, but
he has to understand that it will pay off in the long run.

"Relax," the bartender says when he comes back.
"I told them it was a special prize for being our thousandth
customers."

"Thank you," I say to him.

I have to admit that I’m impressed by Ron’s choice of
restaurant. I’ve been so busy concentrating on the couple in front of me that
I’ve forgotten to really look around. It’s a very pretty place, kind of
minimalist and very classy. Thankfully there are a few nice, big, potted plants
that provide a great cover when Mum gets up to go to the bathroom. Ron has a
little smile on his face. They’re obviously hitting it off. I realise that I’ve
chosen either completely the wrong date to spy on or completely the right one.
This could go either way. If Mum and Ron get along, and they get to a second
date, then I’ve obviously chosen the wrong date, but if she comes home and says
there was no chemistry and that she never wants to see him again, then I’ve
chosen the right date. Because I know that there
is
chemistry. And I
know that they’re getting on swimmingly, and I now know that he has done
nothing wrong as such, and that my mum would be saying no for some unknown
reason. In which case, I can confront her about it and get it out in the open.
Either way, playing super spy for the night will be a good thing.

Mum and Ron are getting up to leave before I realise it.
Shit! I have to make it home before Mum does, or she’s going to know. I nearly
fall off the bar stool. I throw the menu back to the bartender, and run as fast
as one can while wearing half a tent and trying to look inconspicuous.

I jump in my car, and almost immediately get stuck in
traffic. Typical. Just my luck. I can only hope that Mum and Ron are taking the
same route home so they’re stuck in the same traffic behind me.

Eventually I burst in our front door, tearing my coat and
scarf off as I go. I’m panting for breath, and praying that Mum didn’t take a
shortcut.

"What the hell happened to you?" Dan asks.

"I…" Pant. "Lost track…" Gasp.
"Lost track of time," I say, finally. "I bet Mum is right behind
me."

Dan laughs. "You can relax, sweetie. Your mum just called.
She said that she’s going home with Ron, and could you go over to her place to
feed Pussy and give Baby his supper?"

"You’re kidding me?"

He shakes his head.

"She’s going home with the guy?"

Dan nods.

"But," I say incredulously. "I knew he was
great, but I didn’t think he was that great. I mean, I didn’t want her to go to
bed with him on the first date."

"You don’t know that’s what they’re doing."

"Feed Baby his supper? How late does she expect to be
back, Dan? At midnight? After a few hours of hot sex?"

Dan laughs. "I think you should calm down."

"Oh god." A thought suddenly hits me. "What
if he’s a one night stand? What if she’s just going to sleep with him then
leave and never see him again? Oh my god. How am I ever going to face him again
at the store? What if he thinks I’m a pimp? Oh god. I am a pimp. I am, aren’t
I, Dan? I’m a pimp. I’ve just prostituted a great guy out for one night of sex
and that’s it. I’m a pimp." I sink down on the sofa resignedly and ponder
my career change. From nail technician to pimp. I have to admit I didn’t see
that one coming.

"You’re not a pimp, Mac. Maybe she’s just gone to see
his collection of coins or something equally enthralling."

"Yeah. Or his collection of condoms."

"If they use one."

"Dan!"

He holds his hands up. "Sorry," he says. "But
you have to think about these things."

"No, you don’t."

CHAPTER 31

The next morning, I still haven’t
heard from Mum, so I go over to her place to feed Baby and Pussy their
breakfasts as well. But I refuse to sit at the table and feed it to Baby from a
fork like Mum does. I unearth a bowl and tip dog meat in to it. Baby looks up
at me like I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I actually have lost my mind, because the
next thing I know I’m crouching on the floor, picking out meaty chunks with a
fork and feeding them to the dog. I am insane.

I’m actually a little worried about Mum. I mean, she’s not
back yet and no one has heard from her since she phoned Dan last night. What if
Ron is an axe murderer? Although I can admit that is a little unlikely. I mean,
wouldn’t I have noticed? I’ve seen the man every week for the past two years,
wouldn’t I have been able to tell if he had
axe murderer
stamped on his
forehead? Besides, axe murderers don’t help little old ladies reach products on
the higher shelves, do they?

Okay then, what if he’s a serial rapist? Is that better or
worse? What if Mum’s spent the night in the police station, trying to identify
him? Is that better than sleeping with him on the first date?

I’m going to kill Mum when I see her. Or hand her over to a
real axe murderer. Not that I actually know one, of course, but if I did, he’d
be getting a new victim right about now. Doesn’t she realise that you can’t
just go home with strange men? You have to phone and tell someone where you are
and that you’re still breathing and haven’t been kidnapped as part of some
weird science experiment. Or worse.

"Mackenzie?" Mum calls as she comes in the door.

"And where the hell have you been?" I ask. I’m
leaning against the wall, Baby in my arms, tapping my foot impatiently. I
realise that I am the epitome of a pissed off but worried mother, and quickly
stand up straight and put the dog on the floor. I might be acting like a
mother, but I don’t want to become mine.

"You’ve been out all night," I say, accusingly. Of
course she’s been out all night. It’s just after nine in the morning and she’s
still wearing the clothes she had on last night. Ask a stupid question why
don’t you, Mac?

"Yes," she says innocently. "Ron is
fantastic. Thank you for feeding Baby and Pussy."

I stare at her.

"Aren’t you late for work?" She asks me.

"Yes. Yes, I am. But you know what? I phoned in and
told them I would be late because there was a possibility that my mother had
been murdered by a psycho axe murderer!" I’m shouting now, and I don’t
care.

"Mackenzie, what has gotten into you this
morning?"

"Where were you?" I yell.

"I called you last night to tell you I was going to
Ron’s, but that lazy bum of yours answered. I suppose he forgot to give you the
message."

"No, Mum. No, he did not, because he is not useless,
lazy or a bum. Dan is great. But that isn’t the point. The point is that you
called to say ‘
give Baby his supper
,’ you didn’t say anything about his
breakfast. When I came over this morning, I was really worried because you
weren’t home yet. Nobody had heard from you since last night, and you didn’t
say anything about staying overnight. You have to be more responsible. There
are people here who actually worry about you, you know." I suddenly realise
how worried I was, and quite how dangerous all these strange men could be. I’ve
been setting Mum up on dates with men left, right, and centre, with absolutely
no idea who they are. Do I really think that spending an hour having dinner
with them myself will tell me if they’re some psycho rapist or not? Am I really
that arrogant?

"You need to calm down, honey," Mum says.
"Here, stroke Baby. He’s very calming."

"He’s not calming. He’s spoilt. How can you have a dog
that eats dog food off a fork?"

"At the table." Mum adds. "You did let him
sit at the table, didn’t you?"

"No, I did not. Did Ron let you sit at his table?"

"I don’t know what you mean, Mackenzie."

"No, neither do I," I admit. "It just sounded
like a clever comeback."

I sink down in an armchair and sigh. "So, how did it
go?" I ask, begrudgingly. I, of course, already know perfectly well how it
went.

"Oh, wonderfully. He’s absolutely fantastic. We just
talked and talked all night long."

"I’m sure you did something other than talk," I
mutter under my breath.

"If you’re implying that I slept with him, Mackenzie,
then no I did not. I am not that kind of woman, and I don’t know why you think
I would be."

"Sorry." I sigh. "For everything."

"Don’t worry," she says. "I appreciate it. I
appreciate everything you’ve done."

"So, tell me about your date with Ron then?" I
say, brightly.

"It was great. Do you know, we even got a free bottle
of champagne in the restaurant because we were their thousandth customers? Can
you believe that?"

"Amazing," I say.

"It was really nice, posh stuff too. It was a lovely
restaurant. Ron has exceptionally good taste."

"I bet."

"Did you realise he looks just like that bloke from
ER
?
That sexy one?"

"George Clooney."

"Yeah, him. I think he might be his father."

"I doubt he’s George Clooney’s father, but he is very
nice looking."

"He is. And he’s funny. And he loves dogs. I went back
to his house with him to meet his dog. It’s a little Chinese Crested, you know
the bald ones, friendly little thing. She’s going to get on brilliantly with
Baby. Ron wants me to make a matching outfit for her. We were even talking
about breeding them."

"I didn’t think that was possible," I say. "I
thought Baby had been… ahem… seen to."

"Yes, yes. But, you know, without the actual breeding
part. They could just be life partners. Like the gays."

"You can’t say things like that, Mum."

"Elea—oh, call me Mum if you want to. I feel young
again dating Ron anyway."

"So you are dating him then?"

"Oh, most definitely. I can’t wait to see him again.
We’re meeting tonight. We’re going to make out in the back row of the cinema
like a couple of teenagers."

"If it’s that premeditated then you are like a couple
of teenagers. Horny teenage boys. Anyway, I thought you hated cinemas."

"I don’t hate anything with Ron. I just want to spend
time with him."

I smile.

"Thank you for finding him for me, Mac."

"You’re welcome. It was easy."

Pfft. Yeah, right.

CHAPTER 32

I am in heaven. I am curled up on the
sofa with Dan, it is seven-thirty at night, and we are watching a movie. Okay,
so it’s kind of a crappy movie about soldiers and guns that Dan chose, but the
point is that it is seven-thirty at night and
Eastenders
is not playing
on our TV. My mother is not here. She is out on her fifth date with Ron. She’s
been out with him all day. She met him at lunchtime for a spot of shopping, and
they’ve stayed together all day, gone out for a meal, and now they’re going to
see a musical, and she’s probably staying over with him tonight. At least, that
was the last phone call update that I got. I can’t believe that she got him to
go shopping with her. I don’t even get Dan to go shopping with me and we’ve
been together nearly two years, not all of the two minutes that Mum and Ron
have been together.

"I could get used to this," Dan says, stretching.

"Me too."

"Do you think it’ll last?"

"With Ron? Yeah, why not?"

Dan shrugs. "I dunno. It just seems too good to be
true."