Snow Balls (Ball Games #2) (8 page)

I shiver in disgust.

'No worries.' I'd drop the car back and drink myself into oblivion in the local rather than face more of my parents antics.

She closes the door and we hear her shout, 'and where are my flowers hey, Tim?'

'Dad has so blown it if he hasn't got her anything,' says Camille. 'Valentine’s is a very important date for couples.'

Dylan rolls his eyes at me.

I pull up at Jennifer's and toot the horn. She comes out of the house. Her hair is straight tonight. She's wearing a really tight black dress and another pair of towering heels. I walk around and open the car door for her.

'You look stunning.'

'Thank you.'

I take my seat and start the ignition. I can hardly breathe for the overwhelming whiff of perfume.

'So where are we going then?' she asks.

'La Dolce Vita.'

She claps her hands together. 'Oh my God. Really? I've always wanted to go there.'

La Dolce Vita is the swankiest restaurant in Rotherham and is costing me a small fortune, but I want to impress. It's an intimate venue, with only a dozen tables. The venue is set for romance with candles and dimmed lighting. The scent of tomato and garlic pervades when we walk through the door.

We are relieved of our coats and take a seat. I hand Jennifer her roses.

'Oh, my goodness. I am being spoiled. Thank you.'

'Would you like to see the wine menu?' asks our waitress.

'Sure.' I hand the menu to Jennifer. ‘You choose.’

She looks at it for a while, pulling funny little faces as she mulls over her choice.

'Do you think a merlot?' she asks.

'Choose whatever you want' I tell her.

'Well, do you think we could have a bottle of Moet? With it being Valentine’s.'

I've not heard of that one but I agree. We order our food and chat while we wait.

The waitress brings our drinks. The bottle is lifted out of an ice bucket.

Moet et Chandon.

Fucking hell. Moet. Champagne. How much has that cost me?

I surreptitiously peek at the drinks menu while Jennifer has the drinks poured and messes about tasting it. Thirty-seven quid! For a drink?
And
that’s for a small bottle. Plus I can only have one as I'm driving. I decide to make the most of it and pick my glass up for a taste. The fizz hits my face as I place the glass to my lips. Then I splutter. Christ, it tastes like shit.

'Are you okay?' Jennifer asks.

'Yes. Just bubbles in my nose, that's all. I tend to drink beer so I'm not used to the extra fizz.'

'Ooh, you can't drink beer on Valentines. Champagne is dead romantic. Thank you for spoiling me.'

'You're very welcome.' I raise my glass. She follows suit and we chink.

This had better get me to at least second base.

By the time I've eaten my main course, it has to be said that I'm ever so slightly bored. I know she works in finance but the only thing Jennifer has spoken about all evening is money. How she can't afford a pair of some kind of shoes. Why she wishes she could afford her own place as sharing with a flatmate eats into your privacy. She asks me about where I'm thinking of living. I tell her I haven't given it much thought yet, so she goes on and on about an estate where she'd love to live, although if she had the chance she'd love to go to London.

I'm sure the top of her dress is getting lower. Either that or her boobs are growing at the table. They're sitting there like two juicy peaches.

'What would you like for dessert, sir?' asks the waitress.

'Peaches,' I say.

'Pardon?'

'Sorry, er, chocolate pudding please.'

Jennifer declines dessert saying she needs to watch her weight. She orders a coffee. I'm therefore pissed off when she eats my dessert with her eyes.

'Do you know what's romantic,' she asks.

'No.'

'Feeding each other food. Here let me.' She takes my fork from me, loads it with dessert and places it in my mouth. She bites on her red lipsticked mouth as she watches me eat. I get hard.

'Now, you, me.' I reluctantly put some of my dessert on my fork and feed it to her. She makes a huge show of taking it in her mouth. I'm about to jizz in my pants.

When the dessert is gone, she finishes off the champagne, while I request the bill. I decide not to peer too closely at it and hand over my credit card.

We make our way back over to the parked Focus and I drive her home.

'Would you like to come in for a coffee?' she asks.

'Yeah. Why not?' I reply. Might as well see if I’ll get any. If she carries on talking about money I'm out of there. If she feeds me more dessert orally, I'll stay. Yes, the prospect of getting my end away is overruling any feelings about her personality right now. I don't get sex that often. Don't judge me.

I follow her into the house. The first thing I can hear is whom I assume to be her friend, shrieking loudly, asking someone to 'do me harder.'

'Sorry about that. It's why I need to find some money, quickly. Do you think you'll be expanding your blog at all? Do you think there's room for a mystery female on it?'

'Not right now, I'm afraid. It's very early days.'

'Oh,' her face falls.

'But you never know in the future right, do you?'

Her smile comes back into play. 'I'll get us a drink. Shall we take them upstairs?'

'Why not?' I reply.

Once she’s got the drinks, a beer for me and wine for her, I follow her into her room. I'm shocked. There are clothes upended everywhere. Cosmetics are strewn on every surface. She sweeps a load of clothes off her bed and onto the floor and pats for me to sit down next to her. I'm not sure I actually want to be here after all.

'I'm just going to change into something more comfortable,' she says. 'Won't be a tic.'

Jennifer comes back and I do a double-take. Gone is half her hair. I'm not kidding you. The hair that fell to halfway down her back is now shoulder length.

'Your hair?'

'Clip-on extensions. Realistic, aren't they?'

'Er, yeah. Very.'

She's left her makeup on. I don't really want red lipstick all over my face but hey ho. I lower my voice to a sexy lower tone. 'Can I kiss you?’

'Actually, no.'

'What?' I squeak.

'My lips are really sore. I did that Kylie Jenner trick. You know where you put them in a glass to make them bigger?'

'No, I don't.'

'Let me show you. Hang on. I'm just going to whip my bra off first, it’s too tight. It’s digging in my skin.'

She does that feat where she pulls her bra off through her dress and out of an armpit. It's some feat of magic that's done really quickly and I can't totally follow it. All I know is that her tits go with it. The heavily padded bra lies on the floor, discarded among her other mess. I stare at her dress. There's nothing under it. Where are her tits? I have nothing against small perky tits if I'm expecting them, but my hands. They were ready to cop hold of those gorgeous bazumas.

Soberly, I realise that I have nothing at all in common with Jennifer. Although she's a pretty girl and still is, minus the hair extensions and boobs, I don't want to be here. I want to go home, morals intact. What's up with me?

'Listen, I've just remembered. I have an early start tomorrow. So, actually, I'd better be going.'

'Oh. Well let me show you the lip thing first, it’s a neat trick.'

She grabs a glass off the dressing table and sticks her mouth inside. I can see her lips get bigger.

'Er, don't you want to stop?' I ask.

She moves the glass away. 'See? Instant pout.'

'Yeah, you could say that,' I say, backing slowly out of the room before her big fat lips explode. 'You might want to check out a mirror. Anyway, thanks for a nice evening. Is it possible I could use the loo before I go?'

'It's just next door,' she points.

I’ve just started pissing when there’s a scream. As I jump, I spray the side of the bog by accident. I can't get to her because I've had a lot of water tonight and my stream is ongoing.

Footsteps thud past the toilet and towards Jennifer's bedroom.

'Has he done this to you?'

'What?'

I shake myself off and quickly wash and dry my hands. Then I go back through to Jennifer's room.

'I should call the police.' A young woman, with bright red hair in a bob, is shouting at me. I gather this is her housemate.

'What for?'

'What for? Look at her mouth. I tell you what,' she looks at the floor thinking. 'Five grand. Five grand and she'll keep her mouth shut.'

I don’t think she can close it.
'What are you talking about?'

'You're rich, aren't you? That's what she told me. Five grand and she’ll say nothing.'

I walk over and pick the glass up off Jennifer's side. Jennifer is trying to stop crying so she can speak. Her mouth has swollen up even more. She looks like a caricature.

As I pick up the glass, her flatmate blanches and ducks. 'Don't hit me.'

'I'm not going to hit you. I'm showing you this. She put her lips inside it.
That's
why they're swollen.'

She turns to Jennifer. 'Oh. Is this true?' Jennifer nods.

'Oh, well, sorry about that.'

'It's fine. I'm leaving and I'm taking this glass with me—as evidence—in case Jennifer tries to sue me for violence.'

Jennifer shakes her head in protest and mumbles ‘eh-wo’. I take this as being ‘I won't’, but I'm not taking any chances.

I stand legs apart, hand on hip. 'For the record, I'm not rich. I don't have a YouTube business. The money is a loan from my parents. I'm just a normal bloke. Tonight we were both being fake. Bye, Jennifer. I'll see you around.'

I leave the house, get in the car and drive home. Although I'm over a hundred pounds lighter in my wallet I feel like the lessons I've learned tonight were worth it.

The house is quiet when I get in. It's past midnight. I'd normally not think of others being home and asleep and slam my way around the place, especially if I'd had a few. Instead, I tread quietly. As I come upstairs, my mum peeks her head outside her door.

'You all right, love?'

'Yeah, great.'

'Date go well then?' she whispers.

'No, it was rubbish, but I kind of needed it. Made me think.'

'Well, glad you're back safe. I can't sleep unless I know you're home. It'll be weird when you're not here.'

I walk over and kiss her on the cheek. 'Night Mum. Happy Valentine’s Day. You'll have to be my Valentine tonight, like when I was little. Love you, Mum.'

She smiles. 'I love you too, son. Get a good night’s sleep.'

And I do. Feeling strangely grateful that my date went to shit.

Chapter Seven

TV crews should film in Smiths right now. I bet there's a reality show called Store Wars on one of the channels somewhere.

Lindsay and I both require references from Donna. Once I saw she was upping her game, greeting customers as they entered and becoming the Saviour of Incorrectly Placed Items, I also had to get on board. This meant asking customers if they want the add-on items placed at the side of the tills and coming to the rescue of people who can't work self-service, rather than secretly laughing at them.

Our interviews are tomorrow. Though I’m feeling quite stressed as I’m not sure whether to go for the job or not. I never saw myself working full-time, never mind being a Manager, but I think it might be good to achieve something like our Camille has. I find Lindsay in the staff room at break time intending to call a truce.

'Lindsay. Can we talk?'

She looks out of the window. 'I’m sure I can hear a weird noise.'

'We need to call a truce.'

No reply.

I stand by the side of her. 'I don't know why we've fallen out, but tomorrow one of us might get the new job and we won't see each other anymore if we're not friends. That would be bad.'

She sighs and turns towards me. 'Would it?'

'What?'

'Would it be bad if we didn't see each other? Maybe we both need a fresh start. We've been kicking around here forever.'

I grasp her hand.

Startled, Lindsay looks at our hands then back at me.

'It would be bad. I'll miss you, you dickhead.'

'Said like a true friend.' She takes her hand away.

'Look. We need to travel there together tomorrow. Our interviews follow each other. There's a coffee shop next door. Let's wait for each other in there and be the supportive friends we've always been. If you get the job, I will be happy for you. You work hard, you deserve it.'

'Thank you.'

Lindsay pauses and I wait for her to say the same back to me.

'I really want to wish you luck, Tyler, and the latest version of you will do well with the promotion if you stay that way.'

'Er, thanks?'

'You're welcome.'

'So we travel there together tomorrow?'

She nods once. 'Okay.'

She gets up and puts her cup in the sink.

'And because you adore me so much you'll wash my cup and put it back in the cupboard.'

‘Don’t push it.’ She leaves the room.

The old me would rinse it and put it away, but the new me has standards. I wash her cup and my own mug, dry them and put them away. What the fuck is happening to me?

My interview was before Lindsay's so I wait for her in the coffee shop. I replay my interview in my head. It went well. They seem like a nice team. It's not even that much extra travelling to get to Sheffield. My ego wants to get the job but part of me thinks it'll mean less time in bed in a morning. I’ve not changed that much. As my interview was at one-thirty pm and Lindsay's at two-thirty, Donna told us not to come back to work today.

At half past three Lindsay appears through the door. She looks tearful.

'You okay?'

'I totally ballsed that up.'

'Why?'

'I kept going blank when they asked me questions. They kept having to prompt me. I've no chance, I know it.'

'Same here,' I lie. 'I was hopeless.'

'Really?'

'Yeah. So maybe neither of will get it and we’ll be stuck with each other for another nine years. There're worse things, hey?'