Snow Balls (Ball Games #2) Page 6

  '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.'

  I shiver in disgust.

  'No worries.' I'd drop the car back and drink myself into oblivion in the local rather than face more of my parents antics.

  She closes the door and we hear her shout, 'and where are my flowers hey, Tim?'

  'Dad has so blown it if he hasn't got her anything,' says Camille. 'Valentine’s is a very important date for couples.'

  Dylan rolls his eyes at me.

  I pull up at Jennifer's and toot the horn. She comes out of the house. Her hair is straight tonight. She's wearing a really tight black dress and another pair of towering heels. I walk around and open the car door for her.

  'You look stunning.'

  'Thank you.'

  I take my seat and start the ignition. I can hardly breathe for the overwhelming whiff of perfume.

  'So where are we going then?' she asks.

  'La Dolce Vita.'

  She claps her hands together. 'Oh my God. Really? I've always wanted to go there.'

  La Dolce Vita is the swankiest restaurant in Rotherham and is costing me a small fortune, but I want to impress. It's an intimate venue, with only a dozen tables. The venue is set for romance with candles and dimmed lighting. The scent of tomato and garlic pervades when we walk through the door.

  We are relieved of our coats and take a seat. I hand Jennifer her roses.

  'Oh, my goodness. I am being spoiled. Thank you.'

  'Would you like to see the wine menu?' asks our waitress.

  'Sure.' I hand the menu to Jennifer. ‘You choose.’

  She looks at it for a while, pulling funny little faces as she mulls over her choice.

  'Do you think a merlot?' she asks.

  'Choose whatever you want' I tell her.

  'Well, do you think we could have a bottle of Moet? With it being Valentine’s.'

  I've not heard of that one but I agree. We order our food and chat while we wait.

  The waitress brings our drinks. The bottle is lifted out of
an ice bucket.

  Moet et Chandon.

  Fucking hell. Moet. Champagne. How much has that cost me?

  I surreptitiously peek at the drinks menu while Jennifer has the drinks poured and messes about tasting it. Thirty-seven quid! For a drink? And that’s for a small bottle. Plus I can only have one as I'm driving. I decide to make the most of it and pick my glass up for a taste. The fizz hits my face as I place the glass to my lips. Then I splutter. Christ, it tastes like shit.

  'Are you okay?' Jennifer asks.

  'Yes. Just bubbles in my nose, that's all. I tend to drink beer so I'm not used to the extra fizz.'

  'Ooh, you can't drink beer on Valentines. Champagne is dead romantic. Thank you for spoiling me.'

  'You're very welcome.' I raise my glass. She follows suit and we chink.

  This had better get me to at least second base.

  By the time I've eaten my main course, it has to be said that I'm ever so slightly bored. I know she works in finance but the only thing Jennifer has spoken about all evening is money. How she can't afford a pair of some kind of shoes. Why she wishes she could afford her own place as sharing with a flatmate eats into your privacy. She asks me about where I'm thinking of living. I tell her I haven't given it much thought yet, so she goes on and on about an estate where she'd love to live, although if she had the chance she'd love to go to London.

  I'm sure the top of her dress is getting lower. Either that or her boobs are growing at the table. They're sitting there like two juicy peaches.

  'What would you like for dessert, sir?' asks the waitress.

  'Peaches,' I say.

  'Pardon?'

  'Sorry, er, chocolate pudding please.'

  Jennifer declines dessert saying she needs to watch her weight. She orders a coffee. I'm therefore pissed off when she eats my dessert with her eyes.

  'Do you know what's romantic,' she asks.

  'No.'

  'Feeding each other food. Here let me.' She takes my fork from me, loads it with dessert and places it in my mouth. She bites on her red lipsticked mouth as she watches me eat. I get hard.

  'Now, you, me.' I reluctantly put some of my dessert on my fork and feed it to her. She makes a huge show of taking it in her mouth. I'm about to jizz in my pants.

  When the dessert is gone, she finishes off the champagne, while I request the bill. I decide not to peer too closely at it and hand over my credit card.

  We make our way back over to the parked Focus and I drive her home.

  'Would you like to come in for a coffee?' she asks.

  'Yeah. Why not?' I reply. Might as well see if I’ll get any. If she carries on talking about money I'm out of there. If she feeds me more dessert orally, I'll stay. Yes, the prospect of getting my end away is overruling any feelings about her personality right now. I don't get sex that often. Don't judge me.

  I follow her into the house. The first thing I can hear is whom I assume to be her friend, shrieking loudly, asking someone to 'do me harder.'

  'Sorry about that. It's why I need to find some money, quickly. Do you think you'll be expanding your blog at all? Do you think there's room for a mystery female on it?'

  'Not right now, I'm afraid. It's very early days.'

  'Oh,' her face falls.

  'But you never know in the future right, do you?'

  Her smile comes back into play. 'I'll get us a drink. Shall we take them upstairs?'

  'Why not?' I reply.

  Once she’s got the drinks, a beer for me and wine for her, I follow her into her room. I'm shocked. There are clothes upended everywhere. Cosmetics are strewn on every surface. She sweeps a load of clothes off her bed and onto the floor and pats for me to sit down next to her. I'm not sure I actually want to be here after all.

  'I'm just going to change into something more comfortable,' she says. 'Won't be a tic.'

  Jennifer comes back and I do a double-take. Gone is half her hair. I'm not kidding you. The hair that fell to halfway down her back is now shoulder length.

  'Your hair?'

  'Clip-on extensions. Realistic, aren't they?'

  'Er, yeah. Very.'

  She's left her makeup on. I don't really want red lipstick all over my face but hey ho. I lower my voice to a sexy lower tone. 'Can I kiss you?’

  'Actually, no.'

  'What?' I squeak.

  'My lips are really sore. I did that Kylie Jenner trick. You know where you put them in a glass to make them bigger?'

  'No, I don't.'

  'Let me show you. Hang on. I'm just going to whip my bra off first, it’s too tight. It’s digging in my skin.'

  She does that feat where she pulls her bra off through her dress and out of an armpit. It's some feat of magic that's done really quickly and I can't totally follow it. All I know is that her tits go with it. The heavily padded bra lies on the floor, discarded among her other mess. I stare at her dress. There's nothing under it. Where are her tits? I have nothing against small perky tits if I'm expecting them, but my hands. They were ready to cop hold of those gorgeous bazumas.

  Soberly, I realise that I have nothing at all in common with Jennifer. Although she's a pretty girl and still is, minus the hair extensions and boobs, I don't want to be here. I want to go home, morals intact. What's up with me?

  'Listen, I've just remembered. I have an early start tomorrow. So, actually, I'd better be going.'

  'Oh. Well let me show you the lip thing first, it’s a neat trick.'

  She grabs a glass off the dressing table and sticks her mouth inside. I can see her lips get bigger.

  'Er, don't you want to stop?' I ask.

  She moves the glass away. 'See? Instant pout.'

  'Yeah, you could say that,' I say, backing slowly out of the room before her big fat lips explode. 'You might want to check out a mirror. Anyway, thanks for a nice evening. Is it possible I could use the loo before I go?'

  'It's just next door,' she points.

  I’ve just started pissing when there’s a scream. As I jump, I spray the side of the bog by accident. I can't get to her because I've had a lot of water tonight and my stream is ongoing.

  Footsteps thud past the toilet and towards Jennifer's bedroom.

  'Has he done this to you?'

  'What?'

  I shake myself off and quickly wash and dry my hands. Then I go back through to Jennifer's room.

  'I should call the police.' A young woman, with bright red hair in a bob, is shouting at me. I gather this is her housemate.

  'What for?'

  'What for? Look at her mouth. I tell you what,' she looks at the floor thinking. 'Five grand. Five grand and she'll keep her mouth shut.'

  I don’t think she can close it. 'What are you talking about?'

  'You're rich, aren't you? That's what she told me. Five grand and she’ll say nothing.'

  I walk over and pick the glass up off Jennifer's side. Jennifer is trying to stop crying so she can speak. Her mouth has swollen up even more. She looks like a caricature.

  As I pick up the glass, her flatmate blanches and ducks. 'Don't hit me.'

  'I'm not going to hit you. I'm showing you this. She put her lips inside it. That's why they're swollen.'

  She turns to Jennifer. 'Oh. Is this true?' Jennifer nods.

  'Oh, well, sorry about that.'

  'It's fine. I'm leaving and I'm taking this glass with me—as evidence—in case Jennifer tries to sue me for violence.'

  Jennifer shakes her head in protest and mumbles ‘eh-wo’. I take this as being ‘I won't’, but I'm not taking any chances.

  I stand legs apart, hand on hip. 'For the record, I'm not rich. I don't have a YouTube business. The money is a loan from my parents. I'm just a normal bloke. Tonight we were both being fake. Bye, Jennifer. I'll see you around.'

  I leave the house, get in the car and drive home. Although I'm over a hundred pounds lighter in my wallet I feel like the lessons I've learned tonight were worth it.

  The house is quiet when I get in
. It's past midnight. I'd normally not think of others being home and asleep and slam my way around the place, especially if I'd had a few. Instead, I tread quietly. As I come upstairs, my mum peeks her head outside her door.

  'You all right, love?'

  'Yeah, great.'

  'Date go well then?' she whispers.

  'No, it was rubbish, but I kind of needed it. Made me think.'

  'Well, glad you're back safe. I can't sleep unless I know you're home. It'll be weird when you're not here.'

  I walk over and kiss her on the cheek. 'Night Mum. Happy Valentine’s Day. You'll have to be my Valentine tonight, like when I was little. Love you, Mum.'

  She smiles. 'I love you too, son. Get a good night’s sleep.'

  And I do. Feeling strangely grateful that my date went to shit.

  Chapter Seven

  TV crews should film in Smiths right now. I bet there's a reality show called Store Wars on one of the channels somewhere.

  Lindsay and I both require references from Donna. Once I saw she was upping her game, greeting customers as they entered and becoming the Saviour of Incorrectly Placed Items, I also had to get on board. This meant asking customers if they want the add-on items placed at the side of the tills and coming to the rescue of people who can't work self-service, rather than secretly laughing at them.

  Our interviews are tomorrow. Though I’m feeling quite stressed as I’m not sure whether to go for the job or not. I never saw myself working full-time, never mind being a Manager, but I think it might be good to achieve something like our Camille has. I find Lindsay in the staff room at break time intending to call a truce.

  'Lindsay. Can we talk?'

  She looks out of the window. 'I’m sure I can hear a weird noise.'

  'We need to call a truce.'

  No reply.

  I stand by the side of her. 'I don't know why we've fallen out, but tomorrow one of us might get the new job and we won't see each other anymore if we're not friends. That would be bad.'

  She sighs and turns towards me. 'Would it?'

  'What?'

  'Would it be bad if we didn't see each other? Maybe we both need a fresh start. We've been kicking around here forever.'

  I grasp her hand.

  Startled, Lindsay looks at our hands then back at me.

  'It would be bad. I'll miss you, you dickhead.'