Three Way (32 page)

‘Huh?’ I reply.

‘Lauren’s jeans. Do you think they’re sexy?’ Nicola says.

‘Yeah, very,’ I reply. Lauren smiles. I return the grin. My mind, on the other hand, is somewhere else.

I try calling Ashley on the way into work the next day. Her phone is switched off so I leave a message.

‘Hi, it’s Ollie. Just phoning to make sure you’re okay. I don’t know whether you didn’t come home last night because of me or something else or…anyway, just give me a ring.’ I hang up and consider where she might be, quickly coming to the conclusion I haven’t the faintest idea. I transfer to the Northern Line and actually find a seat. I know, amazing, right? I grab a copy of today’s Metro newspaper and settle in. The doors ring, a women jumps into the carriage just before the doors close. She wears a large baggy white dress and has wet patches under her armpits. Gross. I glance at her then back to my paper.

‘Excuse me,’ she says. I glance up, she can’t possibly be talking to me. Turns out, she is.

‘Um, yeah?’ I ask, wondering if she’s going to kill me.

‘Can I have the seat please?’ she asks. I spot a bump in her stomach. Shit. I huff and stand up, annoyed. I never get a seat at this time of day and the one time…just let it go Ollie. And breathe. It’s fine. She needs it more than me.

My phone rings just as I’m showing my ID to the security guard at main reception. Ashley? I pull out my phone. Blocked Call.

‘Hello?’ I say.

‘Ollie, it’s Julie. Paul’s asking if you can do a coffee run?’ she asks. What am I, the newsdesk bloody gopher?

‘Sure,’ I say, unable to hide my annoyance.

‘You don’t have to,’ she says, detecting my mood.

‘No, it’s fine. What do you want?’

‘Can I have a skinny latte and Paul wants a double shot cappuccino.’

‘Right.’

‘Thanks, Ollie.’ Yeah whatever. I head over to the lifts and up to the canteen.

A chirpy bottle blonde teenager with an eastern European accent takes my order. I wait, glancing at the muffins and assortment of croissants available to me. No, need to be good. That panettone bread looks like it needs to be eaten.

‘Here you are sir,’ the blonde girl says.

‘Cheers,’ I reply, taking the coffees. My phone rings again. I place the coffee on an empty table and answer the phone.

‘Hello?’

‘Hi, it’s Lauren,’ she says, her voice strange.

‘Hey, how’s it going?’

‘Uh, not good.’

‘Oh?’

‘They want me to go to New York tomorrow.’

‘What?’

‘Just for a couple of weeks, then I’ll be back. I’m not moving for good yet, don’t worry.’

‘Right.’

‘I know, it sucks. But I sort of have to-’

‘I know you do,’ I say. Silence descends as we both try to find the words. ‘What time is your flight?’

‘Twelve-fifteen.’

‘Okay,’ I reply. I consider offering to see her off at the airport but is that a bit-

‘Don’t fancy seeing me off, do you?’ she asks. I do have a day off tomorrow but do I really want to-

‘Uh, sure-’ I find myself saying.

‘You don’t have to, just thought it might be…nice.’

‘Yeah, I’m on a day off anyway.’

‘Jesus. You get a lot of days off, part-timer,’ she says, chuckling. She means it as a joke but the comment annoys me. ‘Maybe you could come round after work today?’

‘Uh sure. I didn’t bring a bag or anything.’

‘Well it’s only for one night.’

‘Okay, I finish around six, so be there by six-thirty, seven?’

‘Great.’

‘See you later.’

‘Bye,’ she says. I hang up and breathe out, realising I’d been holding my breath for what felt like the entire conversation. I’m losing her, I know I am. She is slipping through my fingers and there seems to be fuck all I can do about it.

I walk back into the newsroom with the coffee and hand the cups to Julie and Paul.

‘Great stuff mate, how much do I owe you?’ Paul asks.

‘Nah, it’s fine,’ I reply.

‘It all adds up,’ he says.

‘You can buy me one next time,’ I say.

‘Okay, thanks. Nothing for you so far, so just log in and I’ll let you know if something comes up,’ he says.

‘Sure,’ I reply.

‘You okay, Ollie?’ Julie asks, ripping a sachet of sugar and tipping it into her coffee. I look at her and consider my response.

‘Not really,’ I say.

‘What’s up?’ she says.

‘My life’s a mess.’

‘Why?’

‘I just…can’t seem to slot the pieces in order,’ I reply.

‘Is this about Lauren, Svetla or your schoolfriend?’

‘Lauren,’ I say.

‘So?’

‘Guys, can you have this conversation offline?’ Paul says. ‘Sorry Ollie, but Julie has work to do.’

‘Sure,’ I say. I glance at Julie who gives me a concerned face.

‘If you’re around at lunch, maybe…?’ Julie says.

‘Yeah, okay,’ I say, walking to my desk and sitting down. I feel like shit. I have no control over anything important in my life. Ashley’s gone AWOL, Lauren’s flying to America, Svetla is living with fuckface. I’m wallowing, I know but I can’t help it. Need something to go right. Some good news. I turn on the news and watch people shooting one another in Afghanistan. This is not going to cheer me up. I log in and load up the news program, looking through the wires and news stories. I grab a couple of papers and settle in for some reading, trying not to think about Lauren or Ashley.

I spend the day achieving nothing. Unless you call finding out how much a return flight to New York costs. It’s a lot. I know Lauren said she would pay but I wanted to know anyway. My lunchtime conversation with Julie is fairly pointless and short-lived as Paul calls her back off her break for some breaking story in Norfolk about a gunman shooting a police officer. Strange when those sorts of stories kick off, the newsroom goes nuts but as it’s outside London I have very little input into the story. I leave at six, the newsroom still as chaotic, even four hours later.

I walk to the tube station and head down to the platform. The train comes in rammed, blowing hot air and sheets of discarded newspaper around the platform. I breathe in as I board. The doors close and we move off. I transfer to the Victoria line and find a seat. In rush hour! I know, second time in one day! Except, and you won’t believe this, another pregnant woman stands right in front of me. I pretend not to see her but I can’t do it. I look up at her. She gives me puppy dog eyes. Sighing, I stand and let her have the seat. Maybe, if you’re pregnant, you just shouldn’t be allowed on public transport. Or is that like a racist thing to say? Just annoying, that’s all I know. Did the city run out of contraception or something? I arrive at Pimlico station just after six-thirty and head towards Lauren’s flat. As I walk, Parker calls me.

‘What do you want?’ I ask.

‘I need some advice.’

‘From me? You need advice from me?’

‘Yes. Now shut up and listen.’

‘Okay.’

‘Now I’m being serious when I say this, right?’

‘Right.’

‘Okay, and I’m not saying it’s her or anything but-’

‘Yeah, yeah, yeah,’ I say quickly, wanting him to hurry up.

‘Okay. Well, you know about Nicola and her gas…issues,’ he says. I smile.

‘You’ve mentioned it,’ I reply.

‘And…you know, that’s normal because lots of people have those sorts of issues, right?’

‘Yes. That it?’

‘No. See, because last night, I get up and go to the toilet, like I usually do at three in morning, right?’

‘Right. It’s bloody annoying-’

‘Okay but, I finish and I flush the toilet and I head back to the bedroom and…I mean we did drink quite a lot last night and I don’t really remember that much about what happened but…okay...’ Christ, how long is this going to take? ‘On the floor, was…’

‘What?’ I say.

‘A poo.’

‘Uh, what?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Wait a minute…you’re saying she…shat on the floor?’

‘I don’t know, man. I mean, it wasn’t me and we don’t have any pets so the conclusion I’ve come to is…yeah.’

‘Okay, just so we’re clear and there’s no confusion…you’re girlfriend…took a shit…on my spare bedroom floor?’

‘I’m not a hundred percent it was her.’

‘But for the sake of argument, let’s say it was.’

‘Right.’

‘You’re asking me what…you should do about it?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I would start by clearing it up-’

‘For Christ’s sake Ollie, I did that. I mean what should I do about her? Should I tell her? Should I just pretend it didn’t happen?’ he asks. This is one dilemma I never imaged I’d be giving advice about.

‘Jesus, I don’t know. Is she liable to do it again?’

‘No, I mean…I don’t know.’

‘Then maybe you’d better have a chat with her?’

‘Yeah,’ he says, almost disappointed with my answer.

‘I don’t really want her shitting all over the flat,’ I say.

‘She’s not shitting all over the flat, she was probably a bit drunk and, I don’t know, couldn’t hold it or something.’

‘Parker. You’re a good friend. And as a good friend I’m going to be completely honest with you.’

‘Okay.’

‘I don’t want your girlfriend shitting on my floor! I mean, Jesus Christ.’ I don’t think it’s unreasonable to ask people to go to the toilet in the actual toilet, do you? What is this, the Bronze Age? ‘Look, do I think you guys need to sit down and talk about this? Yes. Does she need to know that I know? Possibly not.’

‘Okay. I’ll have a talk with her.’

‘Good luck,’ I say.

‘Yeah. Thanks.’

‘Anytime.’

‘Okay, see you later.’

‘I’m staying at Lauren’s tonight, she’s going to New York tomorrow, so I’m going to the airport with her. Only for two weeks.’

‘You’re going to the airport for two weeks?’ he asks.

‘No, she’s going to New York for two weeks, shit-for-brains.’

‘Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow then.’

‘One more thing, have you seen Ashley?’ I ask.

‘No. Why?’ he replies.

‘Nothing just…doesn’t matter. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘Okay, bye.’

‘Bye,’ I say, hanging up. As I round the corner to Lauren’s road, I feel as if life has taken on a certain eccentric tone and I hope and pray I can return to some semblance of normality as soon as possible. The image of Nicola taking a dump on my floor keeps popping into my mind. I smile to myself but I hope she hasn’t stained the carpet…you know what, let’s just stop thinking about this.

I knock on Lauren’s door and she opens it quickly. She’s on the phone and indicates for me to follow her inside which I do.

‘…exactly, but just make sure James knows everything about the Anderson account because I don’t want to come back and find there are still issues with it…yeah…no Mark, I’ve told you how it should go, so make it happen…’ I follow her into the bedroom. Her clothes are out in piles on the bed and her suitcase is open with nothing in it. The image of the piles sends my mind straight back to the piles Svetla had when she was leaving. I look up at Lauren. I watch her lips moving as she paces around the room with purpose, barking orders at Mark on the other end of the phone. Another girl, soon to be gone. ‘Yep, okay, call me if there’s anything else, I mean it. The second anything changes you call me, right? Okay, bye.’ She turns to face me and shakes her head. ‘Total nightmare.’

‘What is?’

‘Oh, James Kennedy is fucking about with a client and…’ she breathes in deeply, ‘you know what, doesn’t matter.’

‘He’s a cock.’

‘Yes well…how are you anyway? You want something to drink?’

‘Orange juice or whatever?’ I say. We head into the kitchen and she takes out a carton of Tropicana from the fridge.