Three Way (20 page)

‘Christ, you are such trailer-trash.’

‘Not in a serious way, dickwad. Come on, I need help here.’

‘Okay…what about Chicken Cordon Bleu.’

‘Cordon what?’

‘Fuck’s sake. I’ll email you a list of ingredients. What are you doing for a starter?’

‘I was going to do garlic bread.’

‘No. You’re going to do scallops and chorizo.’

‘Ooh good, I’m standing right next to the chorizo,’ I say.

‘That’s great, Ollie. And for desert…uhh, I dunno, homemade brownies?’

‘Sure, sounds good.’

‘Ok, check your email in a couple of minutes and I’ll tell you what to get. Amateur.’

‘Thanks mate, really appreciate it.’

‘Yeah whatever. Bye.’

‘Bye.’ I hang up and await Parker’s email which is in my inbox faster than a Cheetah on speed. I move around the supermarket picking out the ingredients as I go. Of course, I get lost and I can’t find breadcrumbs to save my life. Eventually however, I source them all. I am the epitome of male hunter/gatherer.

I get back to the flat around one. I see Tristan outside, smoking another (perfectly legal) cigarette. I can barely move for the amount of shopping I’m carrying. Tristan merely watches me unswayed (again) by the load I carry.

‘Don’t worry, I’ve got it,’ I say. Tristan looks at me.

‘Should have taken my advice about Tesco delivery.’

‘Why would I need that when everyone pitches in and helps?’ I reply.

‘I don’t lug other people’s shit.’

‘Right, okay,’ I say, getting up the final step and pushing past Tristan as I go. I dump the bags outside the front door and try to find my keys.

‘What you making?’ Tristan asks, glancing down at the bags.

‘Chicken Cordon Blue,’ I say.

‘Cordon Bleu,’ he replies.

‘What?’

‘It’s Cordon Bleu, not Blue,’ he states, inhaling on his cigarette. I stare at him.

‘Thank you for correcting me on that.’

‘Welcome,’ he replies, with zero irony in his voice. I locate my keys and open the door, pulling in the bags. I glance up at him and frown. He gives a little wave as I close the door. Tristan definitely does not know more than me about cooking. It’s not possible. Unless you count hash cakes. His words unsettle me nonetheless.

I drop the bags onto the kitchen floor and set about putting things away. Ashley walks in.

‘Hey,’ she says.

‘Hi,’ I reply, placing the loaf of bread next to the sugar jar.

‘I can’t believe you’re cooking for this girl.’

‘I cook and stuff.’

‘I think you’ve cooked once the entire time I’ve been here.’

‘Well you haven’t been here very long so…’ I say. Ashley watches me unpack the food from the bags. I look up at her. ‘You going to watch or do you want to give me a hand?’

‘Sure,’ she says, bending down to help me.

‘Aren’t you supposed to be at work?’ I ask.

‘Day off,’ she replies.

‘Huh,’ is all I can think of in response.

‘So what are you making her then?’ Ashley asks. I pull out some chicken breasts.

‘Chicken Cordon Bleu,’ I say, correctly this time.

‘Nice.’

‘Hopefully,’ I reply, placing the chicken breasts in the fridge. ‘So you seeing Norm tonight?’

‘Norman, his name is Norman,’ she says, repeating the name deliberately slowly.

‘Sorry Norman.’

‘Yes, he’s taking me out to Giovanni’s on Lavender Hill.’

‘Nice.’

‘Yeah.’

‘How’s it going with the Nor-man?’ I accentuate his name.

‘Good. Yeah. He wants to introduce me to his mum to which I just said no.’

‘Why?’

‘We only just started going out. And it probably won’t last anyway. Rebound guys never do.’

‘Is he a rebound guy?’

‘What do you think, he’s called Norman for God’s sake?’

‘Right,’ I say, chuckling. I catch her watching me in a funny way. Suddenly the atmosphere feels mildly awkward. ‘So, you going to start playing the piano in public?’

‘No.’

‘Why? Seriously, what I heard was really good.’

‘I just do it for fun. Not really a career choice.’

‘You wanna work in a bar for the rest of your life?’

‘No,’ she replies.

‘If you’re scared about what other people will think-’

‘I’m not scared. It’s my choice.’

‘Well, then it’s a waste of a great talent, which is even worse.’ I place the apples next to the sink. She thinks for a second then says,

‘I need to get ready, we’re going out early for drinks.’

‘Go, thanks for your help,’ I say. She walks to the door, stops and turns, leaning against the frame.

‘You really think I was good?’ she asks. I stop unpacking and look at her.

‘Yeah, I really do. It sounded like a professional song. I’m not just saying that either, it really did.’

‘Hmm,’ she replies, taking in my words. She pushes herself off the door frame and leaves.

Lauren arrives bang on seven-thirty which on any other day would have been perfect. With my cooking as it is, however, it’s the last thing I need. I run to the door and open it. She stands in front of me, wearing a tight-fitting black dress and strappy high heels. Her hair’s in ringlets which changes her appearance dramatically. Honestly, she looks like a model and I suddenly feel that familiar feeling of intimidation. She carries a black holdall bag, I guess she’s staying over…which is nice.

‘Hi,’ I say.

‘Hi,’ she replies, smiling. She takes a step in, hands me a bottle of wine and kisses me on the lips. In her heels, she’s almost as tall as me.

‘Thanks,’ I say.

‘For the kiss?’

‘No…well yes, and the wine.’

‘It’s one of my favourites.’

‘Come in, come in. Let me take that,’ I say, taking the black holdall and nearly doing my back in. ‘Jesus, what’s in here?’

‘Everything a girl needs for the night,’ she replies.

‘Are we going to be weight lifting?’

‘You’re a funny guy,’ she says, smiling. I close the door as she walks past me. I tidied up as best I could but I’m still self-conscious. I lit some candles to distract from what I’m sure she regards as a dated paint job and wallpaper effect. We walk into the living room. I head over to my iPod and hit play. Adele’s tones immediately fill the air and soften the atmosphere.

‘So, this is the living room,’ I say.

‘Nice,’ she replies.

‘Shall I give you a quick tour? Won’t take very long.’

‘Sure,’ she says. We walk back to the corridor.

‘I know it’s small and nothing like James Kennedy’s place-’

‘It’s really nice, Ollie,’ she says.

‘Yeah well…it’s a foot on the ladder anyway,’ I say as we walk into the kitchen. ‘Here’s where the magic happens.’

‘Ah yes. And I was thinking it only happens in the bedroom,’ she says with a naughty smile. I smile back, embarrassed.

‘Well anyway,’ we walk back to the corridor and past the bathroom. ‘Bathroom is there. Parker’s room,’ I say, pointing out the closed door. ‘He’s out with his girlfriend tonight.’

‘Ah, so we have the place to ourselves?’

‘Oh yes, and uh…this is my room.’ We walk in slowly, I place her bag down on the floor. She looks around, spots the double bed in the centre and the floor to ceiling wardrobe.

‘Very nice,’ she says. She presses the bed. ‘How much action has this seen?’

‘Oh every weekend. And normally it’s someone new each time, I’m just that good,’ I say. She chuckles and walks towards me placing her arms around me. ‘Well if the barbeque was anything to go by, I don’t doubt it.’ I lean over and kiss her, breathing in her perfume. I feel her grip tighten around me. She breaks the kiss. ‘Maybe we should have some dinner before we…move on,’ she says, smiling. I nod.

‘Yeah, good idea.’ We make our way back to the kitchen. I find the printout of the recipe Parker sent me and I get to work. Lauren watches me.

‘So, what are we having?’ she asks.

‘Chicken Cordon Bleu,’ I reply.

‘Nice.’

‘Yeah,’ I reply, distracted. ‘Sorry, this won’t take too long, just need to make sure I get it right.’

‘You carry on.’ She walks out and into the living room. The chicken is sorted, now for the starter. I grab the chorizo sausage and the packet of scallops and get frying. Then I pull out a bottle of Champagne from the fridge and two glasses. Okay yes, it was on special at the supermarket but I can’t afford what she’s used to, which is probably Dom Perignon or Moet. I put the (perfectly respectable) Champagne in an ice bucket and walk into the living room. I find her looking at my photos on the desk. She turns as I walk in.

‘Who is this?’ she asks. She’s referring to a picture of me and Svetla. Shit, I should have put those away.

‘Uh, that’s Svetla. My ex,’ I reply. She nods slowly.

‘She’s pretty.’

‘Yeah. But we weren’t right for each other,’ I say, placing the Champagne on the table. ‘Champagne?’

‘Lovely,’ she says. I tear off the foil and pop the cork. Except me being me, the Champagne fizzes up and I get half of it on the table.

‘Shit!’ I say. I manage to pour some of it in the glass.

‘Oops. Shall I get some kitchen roll?’ she asks.

‘No, I got it,’ I reply, heading for the kitchen. Real smooth Ollie. I walk back with a roll of kitchen towel and start mopping the table. I fill two glasses and hand her one.

‘Cheers,’ I say.

‘To us,’ she replies.

‘To us,’ I repeat. We take a sip. I’m not normally a Champagne guy mainly due to the exorbitant cost but it’s very nice. Lauren stares at me as we drink, I find it vaguely intimidating.

‘You’re looking very dapper, Mr. Hayward.’

‘Thanks. You look…wow,’ I reply, with the vague thought I could be a little late in saying that. Better late than never?

‘Thanks. Do you like my hair like this?’

‘Yeah. It looks quite different but I like that,’ I say. She smiles. The air crackles between us, I force a breath out. ‘Better just check on the starter.’ She nods. I make my exit. I serve up and dust the plates with a little chopped parsley, exactly as Parker told me and walk into the living room, placing the plates down on the table.

‘Here we go,’ I say. Lauren walks over and sits down at the table. I pull out my chair and sit down opposite her.

‘Mmm, this looks nice,’ she says, sliding a scallop and a slice of chorizo onto her fork. I stare at her chewing and suddenly realise I’m watching her so intently I’ve forgotten to eat anything myself. I quickly remedy that. ‘Very good.’

‘Thank you,’ I reply.

‘So. Do you still have a thing for your ex?’ Lauren asks, taking another bite. I nearly choke but I control the urge and swallow my scallop.

‘No. Why do you ask that?’

‘No reason. Just what you said at the barbeque and having pictures still out. There’s one by your bed as well. It’s just a bit weird.’ Shit! I am such an amateur. Why didn’t I just throw those bloody things away? Silly, silly boy.

‘We were together for a long time and when we split up, it hurt. A lot. But…’ I want to say I’m over her. I barely think about her any more. Svetla who? The thing is, I don’t like lying. ‘I don’t know.’

‘What is this?’ she says, her arm gesturing between the two of us.

‘We’ve just started seeing each other. You’re gorgeous. I think we get on really well. We live in different worlds but I find that quite interesting. Can I promise that I’m a hundred percent over my ex and everything that happened? Not really. But we hit it off and I just thought, why not give it a shot. If that’s not what you want to hear-’

‘No. Don’t misunderstand me, Ollie. I’m not giving you the fifth degree. We have only just started seeing each other. And I appreciate your honesty,’ she says. She looks like she wants to say more but instead opts to take another bite. Then, she puts her knife and fork down and stares at me.

‘I like you,’ I say, ‘it would be cool to see where this goes. I’m not ready for marriage just yet. That’s about it.’ The conversation has sent my stomach into turmoil. I’m half expecting her to stand up and leave. She runs her fingers up and down the stem of her Champagne glass.

‘I’m older than you and whilst I’m not ready for marriage or anything like that, I’m…’ she frowns and sips her glass. ‘What I mean is-’

‘Lauren, I know exactly what you mean. You’re not wasting your time,’ I say. She nods slowly.