No Ordinary Bloke (20 page)

I’
d sent Allison the note to her office address. When I heard nothing after a few weeks, I wondered if the letter was lost in the mail. I’d tell myself it was small, an irregular size for business communication so it fell aside in the large Greystone mailroom. In my heart, I knew that most likely wasn’t the case. The card wasn’t lost in the mail; in fact, it wasn’t lost at all. It was in its proper place in a landfill or at a recycling plant. I wondered if she’d even opened it up, or if she’d seen my name and the return address and simply tossed it aside like a junk advertisement that she couldn’t be bothered with.

That’s what the note had been—an advertisement—a shout into universe with the hope that by chance she might take a chance on it. With each passing day, it became clearer that while the adage was true that you missed one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take; it was also true that you could take every shot and still not score.

In the beginning, I was a moody son-of-a-bitch. Elinor commented that I seemed down, but I waved her off. As the weeks turned into months, I settled into the sadness and became more of my old self, except for the woman thing. I still swore off birds. They would only complicate my life. I had four sole activities: work, working out, watching football, or playing football. Occasionally, I’d get together for dinner with friends or family, and I was thankful the holidays and all of the emotions they could evoke came and went quickly.

Sensing I was a sorry mess, Adam didn’t ask too many questions. He did offer a brand of therapy that I believed in: a night at the pub or a day at the football pitch. Admittedly, I wasn’t a good teammate at times. My temper was worse than usual, and I got into a few rows with opposing players. A fist fight did ruin an otherwise good game, though at least I could guarantee a win at that.

Then one Monday evening, I was coming back to my flat after a few hours at the gym. As I walked up the few steps to my door, my phone buzzed, saying a text had arrived. My hands were full with my gym bag, keys, and water bottle, but I juggled everything to see the text, hoping it was a friend’s answer about some Liverpool tickets he’d tried to find. I squinted when I saw the text was from a New York number and not Hardeep, but my eyes popped open when I realized who it was from.

Hi. It’s Allison. I’m in town this week. Are you free for lunch? You can say no. I understand. I hope you’re doing well and wish you the best.

I wanted to drop everything, sit on the stoop, and reread the text right then, but I controlled myself. I took a deep breath and smiled, one of the few genuine smiles I’d had a in a while. Slipping my phone back in my pocket, I endured the three minute wait as I picked up my mail, opened and shut doors, and placed bags and shoes in their proper place. After everything was done, I sat on my sofa and read her message again.
You can say no.

I laughed and said aloud to my empty living room. “Like I’d ever do that. I’m a glutton for punishment.”

It took me a moment to type out a response I was happy with.

It’s good to hear from you. Lunch would be great. I have a trip to Geneva on Thursday. I hope tomorrow or Wednesday might work for you.

I popped on the telly. During twenty second intervals for the next ten minutes, I checked my messages before going back to watching TV. Finally, she replied.

Tomorrow works for me. Do you have a place you like to go?

I ran through potential restaurant options for the lunch. Sadly, it couldn’t be a fun pub. It needed to be a business-like place we could talk. It was a positive sign that she’d reached out to me, but I needed to take it at face-value. I couldn’t get my hopes up because most likely they’d be dashed again.

All my life, I’d been a confident bloke. Only my family knew how much of the confidence was actually bluster. Sitting in the restaurant the following afternoon, I felt like I was showing my hand to the world. I was nervous as fuck to see her again. How could I have been that excited when most likely I’d walk out of there with no change in the situation? She’d be off planning a wedding with Trey while I’d be turning into the sodding male Bridget Jones of London.

I arrived early at one of my favorite business lunch spots, Rivoli, and the hostess, Cherie, a cute little American, didn’t fail me. She placed me at the best table in the house. We’d had a torrid night together the year ago, but she was a mercurial one. It turned out she liked girls better than boys. Luckily, she was good-natured enough to take my jokes about a threesome in stride, and it was best she didn’t realize I was only partially kidding.

When Cherie brought Allison to the table, I made sure my head was buried in the menu. I didn’t want to look like an eager twat desperate for her to pay attention to me, even if that really was the case. I looked up just as they arrived. Allison was wearing a dark gray suit with trousers that made her look hot and commanding as hell. She also wore her hair up which just made her profile more beautiful. “Hello,” I said, rising from my seat.

Cherie pulled out Allison’s chair for her, as Allison said to me, “Hi, David. It’s good to see you.”

“And you,” I said, sitting back down. “How are you?”

“Good,” she said as she took her seat.

Cherie placed her fingertips on the table, as if to signal an interruption. “Excuse me, but can I get you a drink?”

Allison turned to me. “What are you having?”

“Sparkling water.” I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle my drink in a situation like this.

“I’ll have the same,” said Allison to Cherie.

Cherie smiled. “I’ll bring you and David a bottle.”

As Cherie walked away, Allison smiled. “Another friend of yours?”

“Er…” I was reluctant to tell the truth because that was partially what got me in trouble the last time. “Yes, but we weren’t a good match.”

Shaking her head, she briefly closed her eyes like she was remembering something. “There is no one else like you.”

“Not true. I’ve told you I’m a very common variety.”

“I don’t think so.” She took a sharp breath and said, “You’re special.”

“Aw, thank you.” Feeling my emotional footing giving way beneath me, I nervously chuckled. “I think you know how I feel about you.”

“Well, I thought you probably hated me.” She held my gaze. “Thank you. Thank you for the note. After how I treated you, I don’t think I’d have the courage to see you if you didn’t send that to me. You’re a bigger person than me.”

“Twas nothing at all.”

“Well, I owe you an apology.” She jerked up her head when she saw Cherie arrive with our bottle of water, and we waited in silence as she poured her a glass. After telling Cherie thank you and watching her walk away a bit, she said, “You may have heard, but Trey and I broke up.”

“Oh. Pity.” It was the best I could do. I certainly couldn’t say I was sorry with a straight face. I was fucking elated. I could run out and scream for joy and then drop a thousand quid on lighting candles in every bloody church in London. This had to be a sign there was a God.

“Yeah, it sucks.” Her mouth set in a hard line.

She obviously didn’t feel the same as me, but I was still happy with the outcome. I tried to find some sympathy for her. “It must’ve been hard. When did it happen?”

“Three months ago. Not long after I last saw you. It was horrible.” She gestured to me. “You were right. I was wrong. Trey cheated on me.”

I waited for the next line, but none came. Who had she caught Trey with? I knew Declan just talked to him the day before, so I didn’t think he and Melanie had been discovered, otherwise he would’ve been sacked by now. Especially in America, you just couldn’t fuck your assistant without getting sacked. The boss was always in the wrong, even if it was a consensual relationship. In this case, there was the age difference to boot, making it look even worse. The waiter came and took our orders, and afterward, I asked the other big question, “How did you find out?”

“I found a damn bra in his suitcase. He’d come to my apartment straight from the airport one night. When he took a shower the next morning, I happened to notice some pink lace peeking out of his closed suitcase. I opened the lid, and there it was.”

“Oh, dear.” I cringed. “Did he try to deny it?”

“Of course.” She rolled her eyes. “He told me the most ridiculous lie. He said he’d spent some time at his cousin’s when was in L.A. – which was in fact true. He’d called me from Jennifer’s house. But he said that it must’ve gotten mixed up in his clothes in the laundry.”

“Huh?” I’d always thought Trey would be a great bullshit artist. Sometimes you had to bluff when you gambled, so I could lie pretty well myself. I had to think through what his strategy was with that lie. Was it so far-fetched that he hoped she had to believe him? I tried to lighten the situation. “Somehow my cousin’s lingerie and my laundry have never made it into my suitcase together.”

“I know…”

“Sort of a kinky alibi to boot. Because what if you believed it was his cousin’s but you still thought they messed around?” I clucked a few times. “Tsk, tsk. And I always thought the Chabot family was so proper. In fact, they have kissing cousins.”

She giggled and pressed her hand to her lips. “No, he didn’t mess around with his cousin.”

“Just joking.”

“The funny thing is that sort of was his alibi. The bra was huge, like the woman had big breasts.” She touched her chest and grumbled, “Far bigger than mine.”

That was the perfect time for me to make a comment about how often I fantasized about her tits, but I couldn’t. I had to play it straight. “And what does that have to do with his cousin?”

“Jennifer has big breasts, but she’s big all over.” She wrinkled her nose. “Then I saw the matching thong also in his suitcase. It was tiny.”

“Oh.” Big tits. Tiny ass. Los Angeles. Probably an aspiring actress, current stripper. Perfect for Trey on a trip without Melanie.

“Yeah, when I held them both up to him, he caved. Said it was a meaningless one night stand and he still loved me. He said he’d never do it again.” She made a talking motion with her hand, “Blah, blah, blah. You get the idea.”

“Do you believe it was a one night stand?”

“Yeah. I do.” She shrugged. “He was too good to me before this to really screw around on me. Then again, I might just believe him because it’s easier to accept.”

Sweet Jesus, women were so delusional sometimes. Blokes would never buy that. They’d assume the worst if their girl cheated on them. Not to mention, Trey came out of the mess relatively unscathed because she’d never questioned him about Melanie. I swore the worst arseholes had some of the best luck. The only response I could come up with for her naivety was a barely audible, “oh.”

“I know I’m probably being naïve, but I don’t want to think about it. The result is still the same. I don’t want to be with a cheater.”

“Of course not.”

She sighed. “Anyway, it took a long time for me to get up the courage to contact you. I’m pretty ashamed for being such a fool and treating you so poorly. You were right.”

“In this case, I really wish I wasn’t right. I’d never want to see you hurt.”

“David, will you be my friend again?” she asked timidly. “I’m really sorry.”

Stunned that my fortune had turned so abruptly and that she’d asked such a stupid question, I was quiet for a moment. When I noticed her bite her lip in nervousness, I said, “I never stopped being your friend.”