Chapter Thirty-One
I spend the rest of the summer dodging flying drinks and trying to find a replacement act for New Year’s Eve.
I’m exhausted and stressed and I can’t remember a life where I could walk down the street without tripping over a wonky flagstone.
I’m a nervous wreck as I drive to work, paranoid the car will conk out or a pedestrian will throw himself on my bonnet, forcing me to perform CPR, our eyes locking as he comes to, his voice a weak, near-death croak as he asks if he can buy me dinner to say thank you for saving his life.
At this rate, we really will be hosting a karaoke night on New Year’s Eve and I’ll spend January looking for a new job.
In desperation, I ask Jonah if he’ll do it.
He can sing and dance. It’s part of his job.
But Jonah points out he sings kids’ songs, that he’s basically a Wiggle that earns a fraction of what they do, so unless the Rollerz clientele is willing to dance the night away to ‘The Wheels On The Bus’, I’m going to have to look elsewhere.
But I’ve looked everywhere and Sally is growing increasingly twitchy, her emails more anxious and gloomy as autumn plays out, and I’m not sure my plan to present her with a miraculous alternative New Year’s Eve entertainment offering will pan out.
Time is galloping away and I’m not sure I’ll be able to save our jobs.
I’m in no mood to party, but Rhys’s uni mates are hosting a Halloween party in their house share and he’s invited me, Jonah and Thea, who is very much looking forward to revisiting her uni days and making the most of her child-free time.
I know she misses Asher and Frankie-Rose while they’re with their dad and the party will give her something else to focus on, plus she wants to see if Really Nice Legs from the football tournament will be there.
She’s come round to my flat to get ready and I have to admit that her excitement is starting to rub off.
‘My first year at uni was pretty wild.’ Thea hands me a glass of wine and eases herself down onto the sofa.
She’s wearing a red PVC catsuit with a devil’s-horns headband and there isn’t much give in the fabric.
‘We went to any party we were invited to, and if there were no parties we’d go to the pub that sold the cheapest drinks or we’d play drinking games in our room.
It was my first time away from Mum and I ate that freedom up.
But then I met Daniel and the fun sort of fizzled out.
We still went to the pub and stuff, but there was no dancing until my feet hurt or snogging boys, obviously.
Daniel liked to work hard rather than play hard and I just went along with it because I wanted to spend time with him, even if it meant having my nose in a book. ’
She takes a sip of wine and when the glass leaves her lips, there’s a wicked grin in place that matches her costume. ‘But I’m going back to First-Year Thea tonight and you’re going to join in.’ She clinks her glass against mine and winks.
‘I’ll dance until my feet hurt, but I’m not snogging boys.’
Thea pouts at me, the action exaggerated by her ruby-red lipstick, but I don’t feel like kissing boys.
Or talking to boys. In fact, I avoid all interactions outside of work with the male species, apart from Jonah and Rhys, because it’s safer that way.
The meet-cutes are still an ongoing issue, but I do my best to ignore them.
I still refuse to set foot in any lift, even if I want to weep my way up the seven flights of stairs after eight hours on my feet at work, but there’s no avoiding the drink spills and the bumping into men who seem to appear from nowhere.
The only way I’ve found to deal with them is to brush myself off and move on as quickly as possible.
‘I haven’t kissed anyone since Daniel and I’m ready to change that tonight.
’ Thea puckers up her lips, which makes me giggle.
Jonah, however, does not, and glowers at her from across the room, where he’s busy creating a last-minute costume for me.
We were supposed to have matching costumes but they sent me a child’s size, which I didn’t notice until I took it out of the packet to change into this evening, and although Jonah has loads of costumes he wears for work, none of them would fit me so he’s having to cobble together an outfit using his craft kit and sewing skills.
‘I can’t believe I’m going out with my sister on the pull.’ He shakes his head as he tugs his needle through the layers of my plain white T-shirt and a piece of red felt.
‘You should be on the pull as well.’ Thea puts her arm around me and gives me a tight squeeze. ‘We all should. The three amigos, on the pull.’ She giggles, and I wonder how much wine she had while she was getting changed in my room.
‘Four, if you count Rhys.’ Jonah pushes the needle through the fabrics again. ‘He’s forever on the pull.’
I snigger. ‘Forever on the prowl.’
‘Hey, don’t knock it.’ Thea shakes her head in an over-exaggerated manner that suggests she is already quite drunk. ‘At least he’s having fun. Not like us sad singletons.’
‘Hey!’ I frown at Thea, taking umbrage with the idea that I’m a ‘sad singleton’.
Yes, I may have sworn off men since Kit, but I’m not sad.
I was gutted at the time, but it’s been weeks – months – since things ended and I’m fine.
Bruised, but that’s mostly because my ego and judgement took a major bashing and my job is hanging in the balance as a result.
Jonah screws up his face. ‘We are a bit sad, Christina. Like, last Friday night. What did we do?’
My frown deepens. ‘We had a magical romcomathon. When We First Met, 13 Going on 30, Groundhog Day. And it was awesome. Who doesn’t like romance with a touch of magic?’
‘But don’t you want a romance of your own?’ Thea sighs and slumps in her seat, or as much as she can in the PVC catsuit. ‘I know I do.’
‘We’re happy as we are, aren’t we, Jo-Jo?’ I look at Jonah, waiting for confirmation. But he doesn’t give it. Instead, he snips off the thread on the needle and holds up my T-shirt.
‘There you go. How’s that for a last-minute fancy dress costume?’ He tosses the T-shirt at me before gathering all his crafty bits and bobs together and dumping them on the coffee table. ‘Right, let’s get changed and get to this party before Thea starts snogging a cushion.’
‘Scoot over to the right a bit more.’ I push down on the yellow foam cube that is wedging Jonah into the back of the taxi. So far, only his feet are dangling out of the door while his cumbersome costume is preventing his body from emerging.
‘I can’t scoot to the right.’ Jonah’s feet wriggle as he tries to inch forward from his seat. ‘I can’t scoot anywhere. I’m jammed. Whose stupid idea was it for me to come as SpongeBob SquarePants?’
‘Not mine. I wanted us to dress as Miraculous Ladybug and Cat Noir.’ I grunt with the effort of trying to push the yellow foam out of the way of the doorframe.
My homemade costume might be a bit naff, but at least I’m not dressed as Patrick as planned; it could be both of us stuck in the taxi right now, with a handsome stranger ready to save the day and rescue me from my Uber prison.
For once, luck was on my side when they sent me the incorrect size costume.
‘Right.’ Thea bends down and unzips her heeled ruby-red boots.
‘You pull his arms, as hard as you can.’ She yanks her boots off.
‘I’m going to shove him from the other side.
’ Leaving her boots on the pavement, she climbs into the other side of the taxi, positioning herself so that she can push against her brother’s back with her feet.
We look utterly ridiculous as we push and heave and yelp (I’m pretty sure I’ve yanked Jonah’s arm from its socket), but it’s working as SpongeBob’s cuboid form starts to slide from the back of the taxi.
I take a step back and pull harder on Jonah’s arms, ignoring his squeak of protest, and then suddenly he’s free, springing from the backseat like a cork out of a champagne bottle, and barrelling straight into me and knocking me off my feet with the force.
Even after all these months, I squeeze my eyes shut and prepare for impact with the pavement, but of course there is no impact.
A pair of arms catch me, suspending my arse inches from the ground for a moment before they right me, holding me steady until I’m secure on my feet again.
Jonah, however, doesn’t have a knight in shining armour to save him from splatting onto the pavement.
‘Are you okay?’ My knight in shining armour (literally, the guy is dressed as a knight) peers down at me, concern etched on his face.
‘Yeah. I’m good. Thanks.’ I twitch a smile before kneeling in front of Jonah, who’s pushing himself up onto all fours. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.’ Jonah leans his weight onto one side so he can lift a hand to bat away my concern. ‘Shattered my kneecaps, but who needs them anyway?’
‘And I thought I was the clumsy one.’ I push myself up onto my feet and help Jonah onto his. ‘Hey, maybe you’ve caught the meet-cute wish from me?’
‘I doubt it.’ Jonah brushes himself off. ‘Nobody broke my fall, did they?’
I sneak a peek over my shoulder, but the knight has moved on, presumably into the house to join the party. Thea shuffles to the end of the backseat and clambers out of the car. She’s barely got the door closed when the taxi pulls away.
‘Come on.’ She shoves her feet into her boots and zips them up before sandwiching herself between me and Jonah, threading her arms through ours. ‘We need a drink after that.’
‘We?’ Jonah raises his eyebrows. ‘I’m sorry, was that traumatic for you too?’
‘Seeing my adult brother wedged in a car in a SpongeBob suit?’ Thea adjusts the devil horns on her head. ‘Trauma doesn’t begin to describe it.’
We head into the house, which is decked out with spider-filled cobwebs and glowing ghosts strung from the ceiling, and wander into the kitchen where there’s an array of alcohol to choose from.
I pour myself a generous paper cup of gin and add a dash of tonic, taking a grateful gulp before I’ve even bothered to screw the lid back on the mixer.
‘Whoa!’
I turn in time to see a plate of nibbles heading for me, held by a bloody-fanged Dracula, and nip out of the way before it makes contact. I’m getting good at dodging spills (I practically bent like Neo to avoid a berry-topped waffle at work the other day).
‘Thash wash closhe.’ The Dracula grins at me, the fangs impeding his speech on full display.
‘It was, wasn’t it? But no harm done.’ I don’t hang around for any further chat and escape to the relative safety of the hallway. These meet-cutes are like water off a duck’s back to me now, more like background noise than magical opportunities to fall in love.
‘Can you hold this?’ Jonah hands me his drink and starts to shuffle away.
‘I need to find the bathroom to check my knees. I might need stitches. Or maybe just a plaster.’ He waddles his way up the stairs in his cumbersome costume and I’m taking another gulp of my gin when a pink starfish in green and purple shorts walks through the door.
‘Look, it’s Patrick.’ I nudge Thea, but she’s too busy ogling Aquaman, aka Really Nice Legs, through the living-room door.
I glance up the stairs, but Jonah has made it to the top and disappeared.
I shrug and finish off my gin. Tonight, I am going to get very, very drunk and have fun with my friends.
I’m going to forget about work and the consequences of having failed to book a new act for New Year’s Eve, and I’m going to avoid meet-cutes at all costs.