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‘What are you then?’
‘A hairdresser.’
‘Bet you give a nice blow job, I mean blow-dry.’ More laughing.
Already I want to kill him. And then kill myself. ‘Look,’ I say, ‘I haven’t had a date in a long time . . .’
‘What? Pretty girl like you?’
‘Out of choice,’ I supply. ‘This isn’t really my scene.’ I look at the young kids in the bar, the go-go dancers, the retro décor that I remember too well from my parents’ home.
‘Knock that back and then we can go somewhere else.’ He downs his vodka and nudges my elbow, nearly spilling my coke all down my hateful dress.
‘Come on.’ My date heads towards the door again, barely suppressing a burp on the way. ‘We can go to the Jarman’s Hotel, then if you change your mind about letting me take advantage of you, we haven’t got far to go to my place.’
Ha, ha, ha.
Chapter Eight
We walk the few hundred metres down to the hotel but even with a change of venue, the evening does not get better. The mood here is more mellow but it clearly doesn’t rub off on me. My blood pressure is ratcheting up by the minute.
‘I was going to get you roses and stuff,’ Lewis informs me as we sit in a secluded leather booth, ‘but we’re both old enough to know better. Right? You don’t have time to waste on all that romance shit at your age. Every woman over thirty is watching their weight so chocolates are a no-no. All those calories, eh? Waiter!’ he shouts.
It’s hard to keep my mouth from dropping open. A young man comes over to us.
‘Double vodka and tonic for me. Coke for her.’
‘Diet Coke please.’
Lewis raises his eyebrows as if he’s perplexed by my choice. The young barman raises his eyebrows as if also perplexed by my choice, but not necessarily of my drink.
My date, and I am using that term loosely, texts as he talks. ‘You can waste a lot of time wining, dining, all that rubbish, only to find that you’re not compatible and you’re a grand down on the deal. Know what I mean?’
Not really. But my contribution to the conversation doesn’t really appear to matter.
‘I’ve dated every Tammy, Debbie and Harriet,’ he says, clearly one of his favourite jokes. ‘It’s so easy now, isn’t it? Pick ‘em up off the internet. Have you given that a go?’
Again the absence of my reply isn’t registered.
‘Lot of weirdos out there.’ Lewis pulls a scary face.
That I can believe.
‘Vegetarians. Swingers. Bunny boilers. Goths. I’ve had them all. Not many “normal” women on the old worldwide web.’ He makes quote marks with his fingers.
Don’t you hate it when people do that?
The waiter returns with our drinks and looks at me with pity. I mouth at him, ‘Kill me,’ and he grins in return but doesn’t put me out of my misery in a humane way and instead returns to the bar.
‘I’m not asking for much,’ he says. ‘I’m an easy-going bloke. That’s what everyone says. Life and soul of the party. All I want is someone with their own teeth and hair. And huge bangers.’ Much laughing as he mimes enormous breasts for the benefit of the rest of the bar it seems. ‘Someone who likes football, though not an Arsenal supporter. And I like a woman who doesn’t mind picking up her fair share of the bill.’
He glances towards his rapidly emptying glass. I’m assuming then, that this round is on me.
‘So? What can I tell you about me?’ he breezes on. ‘I’m successful in business. Less so in love.’ More laughing.
I wonder why.
‘I’m in IT.’ He smiles, self-satisfied as if a round of applause is about to ensue. I wonder if he thinks that is somehow equivalent to being in counter-intelligence for the CIA. Somehow I believe that he does.
‘I’ve got my own house. Four bedrooms, detached in Woughton Lea.’ He leaves a space for me to be impressed. ‘Managed to salvage something from my divorce. Had a bloody good lawyer who hid most of my money from the ex.’ He’s obviously very pleased with his guile. ‘I like foreign travel. I’ve been to Thailand twice this year.’
Strangely, that doesn’t surprise me. Given a flowered shirt and bad shorts, Lewis is the type of man who would have ‘sex tourist’ written all over him.
‘I’ve got a Legend yacht moored at Southsea marina. Forty-two foot. I like to call it the Lurve Boat.’ Now his laugh is really beginning to annoy me. ‘How many men can tell you that?’
Being disadvantaged in the looks department is no big thing if you have a personality to compensate for it. Lewis, unfortunately, doesn’t.
