Snow Balls (Ball Games #2) (7 page)

'So just record me as I'm speaking okay? That's all I want.'

'Fine. Hurry up. It’s cold.'

We stand outside one of the gaming stores. Lindsay records me as I talk about the latest games. This way I can point to the merch in the window and chat about it. It'll make a better visual than me in my bedroom.

'Right. Just a bit of footage of me walking around the centre now and I can edit it in.'

Lindsay dutifully follows me. As I walk backwards, talking to the camera, I fail to see the placard saying Jesus Protect us All. I topple back, arse over tit over the board. It collapses with a clatter.

I get up and rush away, explaining hurriedly to the man whose board it is that I'm absolutely fine, and no it wasn’t a divine message to be more careful.

'Erase that,' I tell Lindsay.

'Already done,' she informs me. 'I didn't think you'd want your fans seeing that on your channel.'

'You're a star.' I check behind me to see the view is clear. 'Now just record a little more and I'll treat you to a sausage roll.'

She puts a hand on her heart. 'My God, you spoil me. A girl could get used to this, you know.'

'Ha ha. Now start recording.'

Now I'm full time I have to make my next bank appointment for Thursday morning. It's my Saturday to work, so this and Sunday are my days off this week. I'm missing my days off at home but the thought of the extra money I'll earn to spend on gaming equipment and taking Jennifer on dates is more than making up for it. Anyway, I’d only be doing more housework, knowing my mother. She’s trying to get me to do the once a year jobs now she thinks I’ll be leaving soon. I’ve no intention of taking all the curtains down to wash and iron.

As I walk into the bank on Thursday, I feel a foot taller than last time.

Dylan comes walking over.

'Hey, man. Can you give Camille a ring later? We want to ask you a favour.'

'Oh, yeah? What?'

'I'll let her ask you mate. Don't want to get in the middle of you two making a deal about something. Far too dangerous.'

'I'll be free after seven. I'll ring her then. If I forget, tell her to ring me on my mobile, only I’m dead busy these days.'

'Will do.'

I'm struggling to fit my chores in this week. For one thing, I have to make sure my dad’s out the house. I don't need the money now I'm earning more, but it's keeping my mother in my pocket; so for that reason, the chores need to stay my job. One thing I've noticed with all the running about over the last month is that I've not been snacking so much. I've slimmed down with all the exercise. I'm always dashing everywhere. My body’s getting a little toned. As my appointment today isn't until one pm, I popped into the local barbers first thing and got myself a smart new cut. My blonde hair is now shorn at the sides and longer on top. I've also used some of my chore money to buy a fitting pair of navy trousers and a smart/casual jumper that hugs my new physique. I'm certainly not ripped but I'm pleased with my new shape.

Jennifer comes tottering through on really high heels. This time, her long hair is up in a bun on the top of her head, with pieces hanging down and touching her face. She has the sexy secretary look going on.

She looks around for a minute and then looks at me.

'Tyler?'

'Yeah. Hi, Jennifer.'

'God, you look different out of that old fogey suit.' She looks shocked. 'Sorry. I shouldn't have said that. You might like that suit.'

I laugh and raise a hand, enjoying her reaction. She's actually blushing. 'That was Smiths workwear,’ I lie. ‘Got my own gear on today.'

'Yeah. Totally get you. Like I'd wear this suit usually. It's so hot and itchy and well, old.'

She leads me back to the office.

'Right, so I guess your circumstances have changed since we last met?'

I sit up straighter. 'They have. Firstly, I'm now full-time employed with a high chance of becoming an Assistant Manager very soon.'

'Really? That's amazing.' Jennifer types in my current annual salary.

'I also have a ten thousand pounds deposit.'

'Already?' Jennifer’s jaw drops. 'How have you managed that?'

There's no way I'm saying it was from my folks when I have her slack-jawed and eating up my every word.

'Sponsorship of my YouTube channel,' I lie. 'It’s taken right off.' I’m so pleased I’m not Catholic with all these fibs I’m telling.

'Wow,' she says. 'What's your channel on there?'

'Hmmm, I’m afraid I can’t tell you.’

‘Oh?’

‘I'm incognito, you see. It's the element of mystery that adds to it. So for the moment, I can't give away my identity. The people paying for the ads wouldn't like it.'

Jennifer nods her head in understanding. 'I totally get you. That's okay.’ She puts in all the information on the screen.

'Well obviously the application needs to be processed and agreed by my Manager but I feel we will be in a position to offer you a mortgage deal. It should be enough to get you a little property around Rotherham.'

'Great.' I give her my best smile.

'Although if you made ten grand in a month, you'd be wanting to live in London, or something.'

'It's possible,' I lie once again. 'Anyway, thank you very much for getting me sorted mortgage wise.' I make a point of looking at her name badge. 'Er, Jennifer.'

She blinks and looks at her own name badge.

'Yes, Jennifer. Jennifer Lambert.' She scratches behind her ear while looking down over her body.

'Gosh it's warm in here,' she says, undoing the top button of her blouse so I can see the top of her bra.

'Well, thank you, Jennifer. You've been a great help.' I get up to walk away.

'Erm, you said something about a date last time?'

I turn back to her, 'Did I?'

'Yes, I think so. Though I could have been wrong?' She licks her top lip while looking at me from under a piece of her fringe that's fallen across her eye. Well played Jennifer, well played.

'Well, do you have any plans for Valentine's Day?' I ask.

'No. No, I'm free.'

'Well how about I pick you up at seven?' I point to the jotter pad on her desk. 'Write me your address and phone number on there.'

She quickly writes them down.

'I'll see you on Valentines, Jen.' I wink and walk out.

Get me. I am on fucking fire.

I phone Camille at seven pm.

'Yes?' she says hesitantly.

'It's me, dufus. You asked me to ring.'

'Yeah, but you never do. I thought it was Mum ringing to say you were dead or something?'

'Yeah, that's realistic.'

'It's more plausible than the alternative. You’re actually phoning me.'

'We speak every week.'

'Yeah, when I ring you.'

'Well are you over the shock yet because I've got things to do. Bets to win. What favour do you want?'

'Can you come and stop at mine for a week and look after Bob?'

Bob is Camille's cat.

'Why?'

'Me and Dylan are going to Tenerife for a week mid-March. I don't want to put him in a cattery as he loves it at home.'

'What's in it for me?'

'Yeah, don’t do it out of love for your sister or anything.’

‘You’re so funny.’

‘You get the place to yourself for a week. Get to see what living alone is like.'

'Sure this isn't a ploy on your part to win the bet?'

'No. I'll win that anyway
without
resorting to cheating tactics like you. I'll pay you the cattery fee too, so that's seventy quid. What else do you want?'

'I want to borrow your car on Valentine’s Day.'

'No fucking way.'

She screams that so loud I have to move the phone away from my ear.

Camille has a Fiat 500. It's her pride and joy. It's a bit girly for me but better than having to catch the bus on my date.

'Dylan's then?'

Dylan has a Ford Focus. That’s much better to be honest.

'That's it?'

'And the seventy quid. That'll pay for the dinner.'

'God. Lucky girl. Going all out, aren't you?'

'She'll be eating out of my hand.'

'Who is it? Lindsay?'

I splutter. 'Don't be stupid. Why did you think it would be her?'

'She's the only woman daft enough to put up with you. All these years and she's still your friend. Must be more to it.'

'Well, there's not. I'm going out with Jennifer from the bank.'

'Jennifer Lambert?'

'Yeah.'

There's silence.

'You still there, Cam?'

'Enjoy your date and take a hint from me. You'll need more than seventy quid.'

'Right, my fee is a hundred plus the car.'

'Fuck off.'

'I'm joking.' I wasn't, but I thought I'd try. 'You're so easy to wind up, Cam, honestly.'

'Oh, and another thing,' she adds.

'Yeah?'

'My bedroom's off limits. You can sleep in the double in the spare room. I'd rather your skank didn't visit but if she does, spare room.'

'Like I want to rest my head where you and Dylan go at it like Duracell bunnies. Right, is that it, cos I need to throw up my evening meal after that visual.'

'Yep, that's it. Thanks, Ty.'

'No probs, sis.'

Friday morning at work and Lindsay's smile is almost as big as my own.

'What's with your face?'

She feels around it. 'What? Have I got pen on me?'

'Nah, you're smiling. It's unusual.'

She punches me in the arm. I'll never learn.

'Tyler, my hamster. He did something dead funny on his wheel and I posted it. Got me a few hits. I'm reet pleased.'

'How many hits and why is he called Tyler?'

'He's called Tyler after Steven Tyler from Aerosmith. Nothing to do with you.' She sings Carly Simon's
You're so Vain
. She sounds like a strangulated cat.

'Okay, enough, before you shatter my eardrums. How many hits?'

She mimes a zip over her mouth. 'Not until the grand reveal, Mr Turner.'

'Well, whatever. I have happy news of my own.'

'Oh yeah?'

'Jennifer Lambert is going out with me on Valentine’s Day.'

Lindsay gasps. 'What?'

'I know. Went to my appointment yesterday. Blew her away with my personality. Hopefully, she'll blow me in return.'

'You're disgusting.'

'You're just jealous.'

She glares at me. 'Of what?'

Oh no. I did it again.

'Well, of Jennifer.'

Now her arms fold over her chest. 'Why would I be jealous of Jennifer Lambert?'

I need to not speak but my brain isn’t communicating with my mouth. 'Well she's younger than you, has all that lovely dark hair, good job in a bank and she has a date with me.'

'Yeah, you're right. I'm jealous sick.' She stomps out of the staff room in a temper.

On the shop floor, Donna calls us both over.

'Just to let you both know, the Assistant Manager position will be posted later today.’

We nod.

‘Thanks for letting me know,’ says Lindsay.

‘Well, good luck, but I'll be sad to lose one of you.'

'Lose one of us?' I reply.

'Yes, the position's in Sheffield. Did I not mention that?'

'No,' we both say.

'Would that stop either of you from going for it?'

'No. It would be a lovely opportunity to meet new people. You can get fed up with seeing the same old faces every day. I'll get my application completed as soon as they’re released.' Lindsay flounces off.

'What about you, Tyler?'

'Yeah… I'll get mine filled in too,' I say, running my hands through my newly cut hair. After nine years, the thought of not seeing my mate every morning puts a right downer on an otherwise great day.

Chapter Six

It's Valentines night. My Mum is made up that I'm going out on a date. My Dad's not so keen on the idea of being left alone with my Mum, although she's told him she's bought a special M&S dinner with wine which cheered him up a bit. They bought each other a soppy card which for some reason they insist I read. Maybe I don't believe they're in love unless the cards terms of endearment are forced down my throat. I’m not getting Jennifer a card.

I head downstairs in black trousers and a grey shirt. My mum clocks the small bunch of red roses in my hand.

'Roses. A date on Valentine's and roses. Who are you and where is my son?'

'Ha ha, Mum.'

'Who's the lucky lady then? Do I know her?'

'Jennifer Lambert from the bank where Dylan works.'

Mum jerks back. 'Jennifer Lambert. Not Adele Lambert?'

'Yeah, Mum, Jennifer. I know who I'm taking out. Who's Adele Lambert?'

'Her older sister. One year older. Never worked. Just has kids to different fathers. She's about due another. Needs one more to be a four by four. You be careful with her sister. Make sure it’s wrapped.'

'Mum. I am not having this conversation, it's gross.'

'At least this daughter works. She's at the bank with Dylan you say?'

'Yes, she works at Hendersons.'

'Is that how you met?'

'Yes. When I saw about my mortgage. She's the Mortgage Assistant.'

'Right. Well, what time are you going?'

'I'm just waiting for Camille and Dylan. I'm borrowing Dylan's car.'

Sure enough, there's a beep from outside. I throw the door open and watch as Dylan exits his car and comes up the path. Camille parks up behind him.

'Here's the keys, Tyler. Look after it.'

'I will.'

'I've insured you until the end of next month. It wasn't much more and I figured you might want to drive it while you're at ours for the week.'

I smile. 'That's mint, Dylan. Thanks, mate.'

Camille is dressed to the nines in a tight red dress with a furry white jacket over it.

'Well, hi there, Mrs Claus. Christmas was over two months ago.'

'Fuck off, Tyler.'

'Camille, language.'

Ha, sprung by the mother.

'Right, be off with you all, you're letting all the heat out of the house.' She kisses me on the cheek and does the same to Camille. Even Dylan gets one. 'Have a good time all of you. Tyler, if she stands you up, please don't come home until at least eleven.'