Chapter 9
By the time I’m going up in the lift to JJ’s apartment, I’ve already rehearsed about fifty different ways to say ‘it was awful’ – hopefully I’ve landed on a way to tell the tale that will make her abandon the fairy godmother duties she has assigned herself.
Her apartment is on the top floor of one of those sleek new-build blocks by the river – all glass and Scandi design. I’m never sure if I’m imagining it, because I could only dream of living somewhere so fancy, but I could swear the lift is perfumed.
The doors slide open on to a private landing, because of course she has a private landing. Her front door is black and shiny. She usually unlocks it, if she’s expecting someone, so I knock once out of politeness and then let myself in.
‘The door’s open!’ she yells from somewhere inside. ‘Unless you’re a murderer… unless you’ve brought wine…’
Solid priorities.
I step into her apartment, the kind estate agents would call ‘aspirational’ – to people who looked like they stood a chance of affording it anyway. I do aspire to live somewhere like this, though. I love all the glass, the high ceilings, the views over the Thames.
It’s a silly measure of wealth, but you would be hard pushed to find something from IKEA in here, whereas in my place the gang is all present – the Billy bookcase, the Po?ng chair, the Kallax unit that Andy and I almost gave up trying to assemble.
Don’t get me wrong, he’s laddish as far as he’s into sports and video games, but he’s not ‘handy’, as my gran would put it.
Probably for the best, given his first name.
The kitchen is all copper accents, black marble and matte-black cabinets with a wine fridge of my dreams built into the island – I think that might be my favourite part.
A huge fan palm stands artfully over one corner and I’m not sure whether the flex is that it’s big or alive. Next to it there’s JJ, looking out of the window.
‘Hello,’ I call out.
She sighs heavily.
‘Whitney, Whitney, Whitney,’ she says, her eyes still fixed firmly outside. ‘What am I going to do with you?’
‘Well, I did bring wine,’ I offer up.
‘Finally!’
‘Erm, I always bring wine,’ I insist.
‘No, I mean you’re late,’ she replies as she floats over to her rarely used kitchen.
‘I’m…’ I look at my watch. ‘Ten minutes early, in fact.’
‘I meant to life,’ she says vaguely. ‘Have some Brie.’
I can’t help but laugh as she pulls a grazing board from the fridge and places it on the kitchen island.
I hop up onto one of the stools as gracefully as I can.
I’m wearing jeans, trainers and one of Andy’s oversized hoodies – well, it’s oversized on me at least. I don’t know why, but his clothes always feel so much better than my own, comforting, like he’s giving me a big hug.
My hair is up in a messy bun. It was supposed to be, y’know, just a bun, but messy is how it’s turned out.
JJ, on the other hand, is dressed to impress.
She’s probably not trying to impress me.
It’s probably for herself, to be honest.
‘Did you come here from your stint in prison?’ she checks, sarcastic as ever.
‘No, did you come here from working in one?’ I reply. ‘One from a porno.’
‘The black leather is a vibe,’ she insists with a grin.
‘Where are your handcuffs?’ I joke.
‘In the bedroom, where a normal person would keep them,’ she claps back. ‘Speaking of being sexually active, or not as the case may be, go on, dazzle me, what was wrong with your date yesterday?’
‘How do you know it went badly?’ I ask.
I mean, it did, but I haven’t told her that yet. This is our first conversation today, apart from the messages where I arranged to come over.
‘I can tell by the look on your face,’ she replies.
I sigh. My friend can read me like a book.
‘Plus, he messaged me and told me that you left early to go to the toilet…’ she adds, raising her eyebrows as much as her Botox will allow.
‘Yeah, okay, it didn’t go great,’ I confess.
JJ pushes a glass of wine towards me. I’m going to need it.
‘I knew it hadn’t gone well last night, to be honest,’ she tells me.
‘How?’
‘Because if it had you would have messaged me saying thank you, and sent me flowers this morning,’ she replies. ‘Did you watch the series of Welcome to Singledom Max was on? One of the reasons he went viral was because people thought he was smuggling coconuts in his swim shorts.’
‘Why would he smuggle coconuts? The island has loads,’ I reply, keeping my face straight.
‘You’re just trying to upset me,’ she replies. ‘Go on then, tell me what happened on date two, the sequel to date one – was it better or worse?’
‘It wasn’t good – I don’t know if it was better or worse,’ I tell her. ‘He wasn’t right for me.’
‘Max is such a babe,’ she points out. ‘He’s famous, he’s got great taste – what was so wrong with him that meant you couldn’t even stick out a free dinner?’
I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket so I quickly take it out.
‘Er, am I keeping you from something?’ JJ asks. ‘I know it’s not work, because I’m here.’
‘Sorry, sorry,’ I insist, putting my phone away. ‘It’s just… I’ve been messaging with Andy and I don’t want to miss him while he’s actually free. We’re so out of sync, I hate it.’
‘Oh, forget Andy,’ JJ says with a dismissive bat of her hand. ‘Sometimes, I swear, you two are co-dependent.’
‘So are you two,’ I reply.
JJ smirks when she realises I’m nodding towards her glass of wine.
‘Come on, don’t keep me in suspense – the date!’ she says, getting me back on track.
‘It started fine,’ I admit. ‘You’re right, he’s good-looking. Charming. He talked a lot – everything you would expect from a successful reality TV star. I thought, okay. This could work, this is fun. He had stories about the show, behind-the-scenes stuff. He was funny.’
‘Right, so what’s the problem?’ she says, her eyes narrowed. ‘He sounds great.’
‘He was. For about half an hour,’ I reply. ‘Then things took a turn.’
I tell her about the girl who came over – nervous, sweet, gently fan-girling, wearing trainers. How she asked for a photo and how Max charmed her, complimented her shoes. How the girl walked away beaming.
‘He loves his fans, he’s known for it,’ JJ says. ‘Don’t tell me you had a problem with that?’
‘I didn’t,’ I reply. ‘He did.’
‘Eh?’
‘He clicked his fingers and summoned some man in a suit and an earpiece – I thought he was normal and low-key, but he had security hiding in the wings,’ I continue.
‘He said to the guy – and I quote: You see that girl who came over to talk to me? She’s wearing trainers.
No trainers allowed in here. Have the staff kick her out and, whoever let her get close to me, sack them, blah blah blah. ’
JJ’s jaw actually drops.
‘I watched his whole face change,’ I continue. ‘He dropped the act, just like that, let his mask slip for a second and then put it right back on, like it never happened.’
‘He didn’t even acknowledge it?’ she checks.
‘No, he carried on banging on about how his fans are important to him, so is his charity work – he loves people,’ I add with a roll of my eyes.
JJ places her drink down and pops a couple of grapes in her mouth as she thinks for a second.
‘Wow,’ she says in disbelief. ‘That is just next-level arseholery. He seemed so nice.’
‘Don’t they always?’ I reply. ‘Don’t get me wrong though, I do appreciate you trying. All jokes aside, I know you only want good things for me.’
‘Better things than an arsehole or a potential murderer, yeah,’ she replies. ‘But, like, way better.’
I laugh.
‘You tried,’ I reply. ‘At least Pete’s murder thing was – if we’re being generous – fictional. Max was actively ruining someone’s night because she had the nerve to talk to him.’
‘Did you say anything?’ she asks – you can tell she’s surprised. I guess everyone falls for Max’s good-guy act.
‘I wanted to,’ I say. ‘But it was easier to fake an upset stomach.’
‘Sounds like he was making you sick, so fair enough,’ she adds. ‘Well, I am defeated. I surrender. I don’t know what you want. You cannot be pleased.’
I let out a humourless laugh.
‘Trust me, nobody is more aware of that than me.’
‘Well, obviously I’m not going to let you turn this into a “something wrong with me” monologue,’ she replies. ‘You don’t want a murdery guy or a grade-A dickhead. There’s plenty more fish in the sea…’
‘I thought you were giving up,’ I reply through a smile.
‘I’ll give up on the blind dates but, friend to friend, let’s unpack what you’re actually looking for,’ she suggests. ‘And don’t talk tropes to me. Strictly non-fiction. What are you looking for?’
I think back to the conversation I had with Andy. How easy it was for him to know the things I wanted in a man.
‘Andy and I talked about this on the phone the other day,’ I tell her. ‘We were talking about my type, and he said he knew exactly what I was looking for.’
‘Oh really?’ she says, instantly alert. ‘And what does Andy think you’re looking for?’
‘A man who reads,’ I say. ‘Someone who can keep up with my sarcasm. Someone who understands that chocolate is a food group, that caffeine can be consumed at all hours of the day, and that I’m not being dramatic when I say a book is my new favourite.
He said he thought I was the kind of girl who found something new to fall in love with every day. ’
JJ stares at me.
‘What?’ I ask.
She blinks slowly.
‘Whitney. He just described himself.’
‘No he didn’t,’ I insist. ‘Well, I mean, yeah, he did in that he described someone who knew what I wanted.’
‘You have a lot of shared hobbies, don’t you,’ JJ says.
‘Yeah, reading, eating, video games, movies…’
‘All the kind of stuff you want to do with a partner?’ she checks.
‘Well, yeah, obviously a friendship is a great base for a relationship,’ I reply. ‘But by that logic, we should date.’
‘I haven’t ruled it out,’ she jokes. ‘I was really struggling to find you that second date.’
I laugh.
JJ leans forward, elbows on the island, her eyes practically glowing with something that scares me.