‘I have asked you to come with us because I want to spend time with you. But if that’s not good enough, then just lock the front door on the way out.’ I drop the spare keys on the seat beside him and walk out with nothing more than my phone, bank card and my own keys in my hand.
As I slip into the back seat, Hunter does a Dracula turn-out and does his best to hide the fact he’s smothering his lips with Chapstick.
Good Lord.
‘We thought it would be great for you to meet Hunter.’ Frank hands me a Heineken. I don’t love beer, but I’m not paying so don’t complain.
Behind us, there’s electronic music pinging and ponging about the bowling lanes, the clattering of pins scuttling into ball pits as another group of their friends cheer, and the smell of deep-fried food wafting through from the kitchen. My hired shoes pinch the bridges of my feet.
‘He’ll be on your table at the wedding and, since neither of you has a plus one, we thought you might like to get to know each other.’ Lainey’s voice trails off as she looks at us both hopefully.
While her plan is admirable, I’ve been trying to work out how to ask Christopher to be my plus one all day. Though, I’m not sure what his response will be after those last few moments in the gallery. Do I say something now and risk embarrassing poor Hunter, whose only role in this whole scenario is sitting there harbouring all the excitement of a cat with a laser pointer?
It’s not his fault, and I doubt he knew any better, so I keep my discomfort to myself. The least I can do is have a few drinks and head home. There’s no rule saying something must come of tonight.
‘In that case, it’ll be good to know another face there,’ I concede, tapping my bottle against Hunter’s and taking a long slug.
I hate myself for excusing this behaviour right now.
Hunter’s not the worst person I’ve ever met. It’s just that he’s not the best, either. He keeps us entertained with stories about his work as court clerk while the four of us split a share plate of hot dogs and fries. When Hunter officers me a behind the scenes tour of the court house, I look at Frank like I might choke him.
‘You look like you have a lot on your mind.’ Hunter angles to get a better look at my phone screen as I check it. Not a peep from Christopher, not even a message to say he’s left. Or stayed. God, I hope he’s decided to stay.
I pull back and close the cover. ‘Just really busy with work stuff.’
‘Lainey said you were thinking about opening an art gallery, is that true?’
‘That’s where you picked me up from today.’ I glare at Lainey. Has she not told him anything? Don’t you at least give people the Wikipedia quick facts before setting them up? ‘So, I’m not really thinking about doing it, it’s happening. I open next week.’
‘The day after our wedding, of course.’ Lainey clucks her tongue.
‘Wow, that’s quick.’ He rests his elbow on the table.
And that’s the thing with people, isn’t it? Nobody ever sees the work that happens under the surface; the late night and gnashing teeth, the bills that are piling up on the sideboard or the tears when you’re just so stressed you have no other outlet. All they see is the glittering lights and free drinks that, voila, obviously appeared overnight.
‘So, ah, do I get an invite to opening night? I mean, I don’t know a thing about art, but it’ll be a good party at least,’ Hunter asks.
‘It’ll be open to the public, so I’m sure you’ll be welcome.’
He smiles proudly, as if I’ve just given him the keys to the city.
‘Anyway, how’s all that going?’ Frank looks at me. ‘Under control? Do you need any help with anything? We didn’t interrupt anything important today, did we?’
‘It’s going brilliantly, actually. And Christopher has been nothing short of amazing, from helping me into the local scene to making introductions, I’m not sure I’d be where I am without him pointing me in the right direction.’ I don’t answer the rest of the question because today was already planned, so it might be a little rude to answer in the affirmative.
‘Really?’ Lainey asks. ‘That’s an about-face.’
‘Really,’ I say. ‘I tried to talk to you about it the other day, but you hung up the phone.’
Frank frowns at Lainey.
‘Who’s Christopher?’ Hunter leans into the conversation again. ‘That tall guy today? I saw him through the window, he looks like a barrel of laughs.’
I feel myself wriggle further away from him as I draw back in horror. ‘He owes you a smile, does he?’
‘Katie.’ Lainey lays her hand atop of mine. ‘I think what he means is that he just looks quite serious.’
‘He can be, yes. I like that about him. But he has a wicked sense of humour once you get to scratch the surface.’
‘So, what is he? A business partner or friend?’
‘Yes.’ I look at Hunter.
Frank covers his eyes and winces.
‘He’s just someone she knows,’ Lainey excuses. I glare at her.
What happened to my friend who was ready to dismantle the patriarchy only weeks ago? The woman who sat in a pub and raged about the sausage factory has been replaced by someone who’s trying to shove my square head into a round hole for the sake of what? Setting me up with someone who’s so wildly inappropriate for me?
I feel so outrageously agitated that it’s like the walls are closing in on me and the chequered floor is stretching out further with each step. Everything’s Alice in Wonderland, and I’m suddenly too tall to squeeze through the door to freedom.
The longer I stay, the more desperately I want to go home, or to wherever Christopher is right now. Hell, if I had the money, I’d take an Uber out to Loxley and finish what we started in my bed this afternoon. But I have a table full of people staring at me, waiting for another answer. I excuse myself and head for the bar.
Standing on my own at the bar feels like a weight off my shoulders, like slacking off at work and hiding in the toilet from your boss when they’re on the warpath. My fingers hover over a ‘Please come and pick me up’ message, but I’m not sure I want to be that person tonight. It’s not that I’ll be doing anything wrong, but I worry it’ll be all too much trouble with Lainey and Frank. Then again, I don’t love that I’m making excuses for that, because why should I? Once again, I slip my phone away and turn back to the table.
Hunter is on his way over and desperately trying to stuff his Chapstick back in his pocket again.
‘I’ll get this, you go back to the table.’ He slips a fifty-pound note across the bar while I rattle around my pocket for the last of my change.
‘No, thank you. I’ll buy my own.’
‘Really, it’s fine. I don’t mind,’ he says. ‘I need to break this note anyway.’
It’s a moment in stark contrast to breakfast this morning and the two of us standing around emptying pockets to make up the last ninety-five pence of our bill. Twenty pence here, fifty there, and a final five pence that came tumbling out of my handbag at the last minute. I make eye contact with the bartender and roll my eyes.
Our bowling lane is ready when I return, Hunter hot on my heels and talking about a promotion at work, one that’s going to skyrocket him up the ladder, or so he says. Lainey interjects that she has everything under control tonight, talking about breaking off into teams; her and Frank against Hunter and me, naturally.