Chapter 5 #2
‘You know, there’s a man, he gets women to trust him, he murders them – it’s been done,’ I point out. ‘In fact… isn’t that exactly what Patrick Bateman does in American Psycho? That’s the book and the movie.’
I can see his expression changing, shifting in small ways, the tightening of his jaw, a few extra blinks here and there, the lowering of his eyebrows. I can tell he didn’t like that.
‘No, because my guy is killing romance authors, and he has a heart, he’s a good guy,’ he replies. ‘In fact, this one woman, a blonde called Britney, is about to be his next victim when he decides he can’t kill her. He wants to keep her captive instead. So, no. Not predictable.’
I do wonder if she was going to a) be blonde, b) be called Britney (so close to my name), or c) exist, if I hadn’t pissed him off with my comments just now.
‘Yeah, okay, that’s different,’ I reply. I think we’ll leave it there.
‘I’m a bestselling author,’ he reminds me, his tone suddenly much warmer as he reaches out across the table to place his hand on mine. His touch sends a shiver down my spine. ‘I know what people want.’
‘I’m sure you do,’ I say plainly – although he cannot possibly, if he thinks that I want his hand on mine.
‘We shouldn’t talk shop all night, this is a date after all,’ he continues. ‘How about a plot twist? We could knock these back and go somewhere else. Seeing as though you like clichés – your place or mine? I’m thinking mine…’
I’m thinking if I go to his he’ll go all method and murder me.
‘There was another drink I really wanted to try,’ I tell him. ‘If you fancy another…’
Because as ballsy and sassy as I am, I think we all know that when it comes to letting men down, we all have this fear of it going terribly.
‘You show me what you want, I’ll give it to you,’ he replies.
I point out a drink to him on the menu so that, while he’s ordering them, I can grab my phone and send an SOS to JJ. We have an agreed symbol – a frog emoji – so that we can let the other know if we’re on a date with a creature. That way, we can have an excuse to leave.
Soon enough my phone rings. It’s a great system.
‘Oh, it’s JJ,’ I tell him. ‘She’s tried a few times, I’d better make sure everything is okay.’
The fact that she set us up on this date is going to make the fake emergency all the more believable. Well, why would she set us up then break us off?
‘Sure,’ he replies.
‘Hello?’ I answer. ‘Is everything okay?… What?… Really?’
‘I cannot believe you’re chickening out of this date already,’ she replies with a laugh, safe in the knowledge that only I can hear her.
‘An accident?’ I reply.
‘Honestly, you really want to leave? You’re not even going to give it a fair shout?’ she continues.
‘Oh, JJ, that’s awful,’ I reply.
‘You’re not even going to roll the dice on a kiss, see if you feel anything?’ she checks.
‘That sounds so painful,’ I tell her, keeping up the act on my side, but also answering her question. ‘I’ll be right there. Where are you?’
‘Do you know what, I’m actually out and about, I can be with you in half an hour. Meet you at Charliez?’
‘Yeah, okay, hang in there, I’ll see you soon,’ I tell her.
‘Looking forward to it,’ she tells me. ‘We can debrief.’
I turn to Pete.
‘Pete, I’m so sorry, I’m going to have to go, JJ needs me,’ I tell him.
‘Is she okay? I have a meeting with her tomorrow…’
‘How much do you know about blood clots?’ I check.
‘Thrombosis? A fair bit…’
Well, that’s no use.
‘No, period clots,’ I say, pivoting, with no idea what else to say. ‘She’s having a mare.’
‘You said it sounded painful?’ he points out.
‘Oh, yeah, so painful,’ I continue as I gather my things. ‘They cause, these, eh, vulval fractures. They’re so bad. So I need to go, to get her some painkillers – but she’ll be fine for the meeting. Everything just…’
I make a weird sound and do a strange hand action that sort of symbolises everything going back into place.
‘Don’t mention it though, she’ll find it so embarrassing,’ I add.
‘Oh, I won’t,’ he replies. ‘Periods – ugh.’
‘Right? So gross.’ I play along – of course he thinks that way. ‘Anyway, thanks for everything.’
‘Yeah, okay, bye…’ he calls after me.
Outside, I finally feel like I can breathe. It’s dark, obviously, but it feels so much lighter and safer than the dimly lit bar.
Did I think he was going to kill me? No, of course not.
I’m 100 per cent certain… I’m 99 per cent certain.
Okay, 95, if I let my imagination run for a minute.
But the one thing I am sure of is that Pete did nothing for me, I didn’t fancy him, he annoyed me, we had different views – there was no basis for anything, nothing to work on, nothing to cling to that would make a second date seem like a good idea.
I know, JJ probably thinks I should have kissed him, to test for that spark, but I think when you know, you know. No physical contact required.
Obviously the first thing I do – carefully, while I’m walking, because the last thing this night needs is slapstick humour – is grab my phone to text Andy.
It’s strange, even though he’s working, and I’m not hearing as much from him, he’s still the first person I want to tell about everything.
I know I’ll feel better for messaging him, even if all I do is hype up the story to tell him on the phone later, and whatever he replies, it will instantly make me feel better.
Whatever shit I’m going through, he has this way of making me laugh, of seeing the funny side…
I’m sure this night will seem funny at some point.
I love JJ, really, I do, but her taste in men ain’t it. Unless ‘it’ lands you a role (preferably pre-humously, to use a word I’m not sure exists) in a Netflix documentary about the novelist who murdered women.
I think he’s just a bit of a dick, and a narcissist, who thinks he’s better than everyone and that men are superior – but being with someone like that sounds like a fate worse than death to me. Maybe. It’s pretty close.
The only thing I’m sure of is that Peter Flack is not getting a sequel. Not a chance.