Chapter 2 Adam “Strangers” #3
“Yeah, of course.” Or at least I’d better be, right? Because it’s sure as hell too late to change the past now. “Happy for you,” I say out loud. “And chuffed to have you home.”
As he and Jules get talking to a couple of his American colleagues who are staying for the weekend, I throw myself into the party. A knockoff Buena Vista Social Club–style band strikes up and the air fills with laughter, chatter, and wafting BBQ smoke.
A couple of hours later and people are starting to get in the pool.
Bagging a lounge chair as far from the aquatic action as I can, I get talking to some old pals while sinking a couple of beers.
When Jules gets changed into her swimsuit and sarong, she asks me to come for a dip, but I stick to where I am like a limpet at high tide. No way my shirt’s coming off.
“Well, hey, boss,” Meredith says, appearing by my side, pushing her hand back through her shoulder-length blonde hair.
She’s dressed in a strappy green cotton dress that’s covering her damp bikini underneath, and for a second, I get this jolt of adrenaline and don’t know where to look. “Enjoying the schmooze?” she inquires.
“The schmooze?” Self-conscious, I tug my T-shirt down over my belly. “Is that what this is?”
“Ah, but of course you’re here in your guise as revered old school chum and bestie of our host,” she teases.
“But for the rest of us mere mortals, while this might not exactly be Gamescom, it’s probably the most schmooztastic gathering of the Sillycon Valley bosses and other selected industry arsehats we’re likely to see all year. ”
Sillycon, her name for the three streets in Brighton where most of the city’s tech firms are based.
One of our little in-jokes. Darius, or Anastasija at least, has asked a whole bunch of them here today as well as all his old friends, as he’s keen to reconnect with everyone in the sector now he’s back.
“Hmm,” I say, looking across at a few of the other faces I recognize from our rival companies here in town.
Maybe I should be schmoozing them too, because it’s not like my career at Quark is exactly going stellar, is it?
Something that’s bothering me more the older I get.
Or maybe it’s just the work I’ve ended up doing.
Mobile role-playing games based on reality TV shows was hardly what I was aiming at when I joined, but it’s the way the company has skewed these last five years.
“Oh, and talking of arsehats…” I nod toward where I’ve just spotted my boss and the founder of Quark Studios, Todd Landerson, kneeling down, mouth to a vodka luge spout.
“Do you think that’s how he got the job to begin with?” Meredith asks.
“Oh, come on.” I laugh. “You’re better than that.”
“Am I, though?” She grins.
As she sits down next to me, I squidge up to make room. “Sauvignon blanc?” I ask, nodding at her glass.
“A pint of Dark Star IPA?” she says, glancing down at mine.
Our favorite summer drinks. Just like I know she prefers cabernet sauvignon in the winter, and salt-and-vinegar crisps all year round. The kind of crucial pub details I’ve only known about two or three other women in my life.
I don’t know exactly when it started happening, our whole walking-back-from-Friday-night-work-drinks together, but it’s something we’ve been doing more and more lately.
Unspoken. Unnoticed by others too. Not that there’s anything to notice, of course.
It’s just that since Meredith moved flats, we take pretty much the same route home, and there’s usually work stuff to talk about.
Though, in truth, we’ve been talking about work less and less these last few months.
“Hey, Meredith!” a voice calls up.
We both turn to look at four hunks playing an improvised game of volleyball on the tennis court below us. Tanned torsos. Six-packs glistening in the sun.
“Klaus,” she shouts. “Looking good, baby.”
“Feeling good!” the fittest of the four shouts back, flipping his wraparound shades up onto the top of his head.
“You still good for Wednesday practice?” she calls down.
“Sure.” He blows her a kiss. “You and me, we’re going straight to the top of the league.”
I recognize him now. One of the new account directors at work. Ten years younger than me.
“Ah, so he’s your Mr. Perfect,” I say, as Meredith turns back to me.
Another in-joke, because she’s been single since she moved down from London three years ago and claims she can’t find anyone decent.
Even though I always tease her that this is Brighton and she’s setting her standards way too high.
“Hmm,” she considers. “I suppose. But only when we’re playing volleyball.”
“He’s your partner then?”
“Court partner.”
“He looks nice.”
“Oh, he is, but…not so smart…” She does a funny little Arnold Schwarzenegger Terminator impression that makes me laugh.
“I mean, yeah,” she continues, “he’s hot.
My type. But guys like him are always so bloody arrogant.
I prefer someone with a bit more sense of humor.
Someone you can have a pint and a laugh with. ” She punches me playfully on the arm.
Teasing, and safe, because I’m clearly so not her type physically.
She stares back at Todd, who’s now chatting to Doodles, beaming like some guy out of a toothpaste commercial.
“So, what do you think it’s all about?” she says.
I don’t even need to ask. She means the company-wide meeting Todd’s called for Monday, something that’s never happened once in all the years I’ve been there.
And normally I’d hate being treated as older and therefore wiser by my colleagues.
A bit unfair of me given most of them are at least half my age.
But last year when Todd booked our Christmas party at Horizon club down on the beach, I got asked twice in the queue if I was an Uber driver and once inside if I was the plumber they’d called out to unblock the drains—it’s not something you forget.
But at least with Meredith there’s only a few years’ difference between us. The trouble is, I don’t know shit. I turned down my one shot at director-level management years ago so I could help out more with Jules and the kids. Back after Liam’s accident.
“Maybe we should ask him then,” she says, pointing across at Darius, who’s splashing around in the pool. “You’ve always said he’s got all the answers, right? San Fran Disco, your friendly part-time DJ, part-time tech-bro hero.” She smirks.
“Right.” I grin back, feeling a little guilty about the silly nickname I’ve given my oldest pal behind his back.
“But just who, pray tell, is it that Mr. Siriusly-full-of-himself is with?” Meredith asks. “Because they sure do look like they’re having fun.”
“Oh, that’s Jules,” I say, only now seeing that it’s her.
“Your Jules?”
“Uh-huh.”
There’s an awkward little silence as we watch them laughing and scrabbling over a rainbow-colored Frisbee that keeps popping up out of the water, with Jules, ever competitive, and Darius, equally so, both refusing to let the other one win.
Only then Jules spots me and waves me over, but I pretend like I haven’t seen.
“They’re old friends,” I explain.
I try focusing on Meredith, but I can still hear Jules laughing. In a way I haven’t heard her for so long. What’s he saying that’s making her giggle so much?
I don’t really see Jules again until later, after it’s started getting dark, when the music cuts and Darius hops up onto the little stage with a mic in his hands.
“Soooooo…guess what, people? It’s karaoke time,” he announces with a showman’s smile, as a spotlight picks him out.
Through the gathering crowd, I see Jules looking around for me.
But I know Darius too well. I know exactly who he’s going to call up first and I can’t bring myself to do it. To get up there. Next to him. Here at his awesome new house. In front of everyone I know.
Grabbing another drink, I shrink back into the shadows, as that bright, ugly spotlight shines down.