Falls wasn’t sure what to wear. She had been through her wardrobe, rejected it all. He’d said, ‘Let’s have a drink, see how we go?’
Out loud she said, ‘Meaning, if I don’t bore the arse offa him, we’ll move to level two.’ And instantly chided herself.
If she was to get out of the mire, she’d need to change her attitude. Decided to go down-home-folks, pulled on tight worn 501’s and a UCLA sweatshirt. Pair of red baseball shoes and she was Miss Selfridge.
‘What do I call you?’ she’d asked.
He thought about it, then, ‘Ryan.’
‘Like Ryan O’Neal?’
He smiled, ‘Not really.’
They’d arranged to meet at The Cricketers. When she arrived he got out of a car, said, ‘You’re on time.’
‘Oh, was it a test?’
He stopped, said, ‘You’ve some mouth on you.’ But he was smiling so she let it slide.
Inside, the pub was hopping and he explained, ‘Darts night.’
‘Oh.’
She’d made a commitment that come what may, she’d tell the truth. Even if he asked what she did. Most times, say you’re a cop, they’d say, ‘You’re never!’
What hung there was not a woman being a cop but a bogey, a black woman. Most legged it. So she’d tell the truth, all down the line.
Okay.
He asked, ‘To drink?’
‘Bacardi and coke.’
Got a table away from the dart players. He came with the drinks, scotch and water chaser, said, ‘Cheers.’
‘Cheers, Ryan.’
A tight smile as his drink hit, then he asked, ‘What do I call you?’
‘Yvette.’
First lie.
‘Nice, I like it.’
‘Do you work?’
‘Customer services.’
Second lie.
She crossed her fingers, a third lie was outright wicked so she asked, ‘Are you married?’
‘That’s fairly direct, does it matter?’
‘If we’re planning an engagement.’
He traced his finger on the rim of the glass, said, ‘I’m married with two kids, I’m not planning on leaving her.’
Falls was taken aback. At the very least, he could have whinged that his wife didn’t understand him.
She said, ‘Yet…
‘What?’
‘You’re not planning on leaving her yet.’
He gave an uncertain smile and she added, ‘Give a girl a bit of hope.’
‘Oh.’
Jeez, she thought, is he going to be as thick as two planks.
Then he said, ‘I don’t like lying.’
‘You must have an amazing wife … shit, I mean life.’
He finished his drink, grimaced, then: ‘I said I don’t like it, not that I don’t do it.’
The music got louder and Falls asked, ‘Like this?’
‘Yeah, I do, but I don’t know it.’
‘It’s Ocean Colour Scene.’
‘I believe you.’
‘Called “Beautiful Thing” with PP Arnold on there.’
‘You like music?’
‘C’mon Ryan, what colour am I?’
‘Sorry … look Yvette, could you cut me some slack here. I’m nervous and it cuts my banter into shit.’
She felt her heart jump, touched his hand, said, ‘Nervous is good.’
Later, they drove up the Edgware Road for bagels and lox. You have to know someone real well or not at all. Plus, it helps if they like lox. She did.
That night, after they’d made loud, sweaty, exhilarating love, she said, ‘Is it just me, or does lox sound slightly obscene?’