Dan Taylor Is Giving Up On Women. Neal Doran
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said.
‘Luv-leee.’
Back at my desk, it was just as I started to shut down for the day that I got an email from Weird Boring Chris. He was reminding me that he was to be cc’d in on the youth market fruit beverages report that apparently was going out today. Turned out that just because I’d forgotten all about my promise to the boss that I could do a week’s work in a day, didn’t mean that Nigel had.
It was going to be a long night.
‘Good evening, Dan speaking.’
‘So according to my wife you’ve been in the office looking at porn sinceten-thirty, and you’re still there twelve hours later. There are clinics you can go to to get help with that kind of obsession, you know.’
I said something rude about his mother and a webcam. Rob snorted, and, with the conversational formalities out of the way, he got down to the business of the call.
‘So, buddy, what’re your plans for Friday night, then?’
‘Well, unless Rihanna changes her plans and decides to come over to town to go clubbing, I would imagine it’d be a pint with Mad Janice and Weird Boring Chris and home for a Mahal Palace takeaway and season two of Glee on box set.’
‘You’re going to have to let the starlets down, sport, and Mick the delivery guy will have to live without your awkwardly generous tip for one week. You’re coming to ours.’
‘I’ll have to let people know. The last time I wasn’t in on a Friday night the Palace sent the police around, worried I must have been dead or trapped under the takeaway menu drawer.’
‘Well, notify the appropriate authorities, and practise being spontaneous and witty, because you have got a date,’ said Rob.
My stomach plunged and an unexpected surge of adrenalin shot through me. I was quiet while my internal organs finished their virtual roller-coaster ride and Rob filled in the details.
‘A friend of Hannah’s called Niamh. You might have met her at Eurovision? Same age as us, lawyer, loves old musicals. Right up your street,’ he continued.
‘I thought Hannah didn’t really have any single friends that were my type at the minute?’
‘New Year, Dan. Turns out it’s not just you that has realised it can be a good time to have a look at their lives and decide to try and change them. They’re calling them resolutions. I think they might catch on.’
‘So, um, is she…er, nice?’
‘You’d be the one that people think are doing better out of the deal, but not so much that they’d assume you must be very rich, if that’s what you’re getting at. Hang on…’
There was a pause and I could hear, but not quite make out, Hannah saying something in the background.
‘I’m being told from the sofa to tell you she has the most beautiful skin. Because you know how all men are mainly looking for a really good epidermis.’
There was a distinct sound of a raspberry being blown in the room.
‘This is all a bit quick,’ I said. ‘I thought it was going to be looking at dating profiles and making snide remarks about the hair on the profile pictures of my rivals for a while. I’m not sure I’m ready.’
‘Not your call any more, Dan — you sold your soul, or its DNA equivalent, to us. So Friday at eight you’re at our place, deodorant applied before you put on your clothes. Hang on…’
More conversation from the sofa.
‘Angus and Sarah are invited too, so it won’t look too obviously like a date. Oh, and we’re also banned from saying Babah Ganoush in funny voices when Hannah’s serving her from-scratch appetisers.’
We spent a minute or two saying the names of various Middle Eastern dips and accompaniments in a range of accents and tones, just to get it out of our systems.
‘Now, how come you’ve managed to get so far behind in your work when you’ve only been back one day?’ asked Rob.
I explained the situation with Nigel and the glamour model, and how I might also have been doing a bit to help out Delphine in the day — just out of professional dedication, obviously — and that now everyone was in the pub with our new hotshot handsome colleague.
‘Helping out that saucy French one?’ Rob had met Delphine once when he’d come to meet me in the pub after work before going to the movies. We never made the movie but spent the evening squabbling over whose turn it was to go and get her jelly beans from the dispenser.
‘Good idea to free up her time so she can go and get drunk with your better-looking colleagues,’ he pointed out. ‘We’ll have to work her into our strategy though, I think. Even if it is just to get the chance to make her laugh at the mere idea. And watch her walk away.’
In the background I could actually hear Hannah’s eyes rolling.
‘What? I’m just saying…’ Rob asked with wounded innocence.
There was another pause while he received his further instructions before returning to the call.
‘And Hannah says you still haven’t answered her question from earlier for your singles account. But we only need to worry about that if Friday night goes ball-achingly badly, and you embarrass yourself, and us, in front of Hannah’s hot single friend.’
There was another pause on the line, and more mumbling between the two of them.
‘But I’m sure that’s not going to happen,’ he added, with a cough that I tried not to read as sarcastic.
Chapter Three
So it was Friday night and, at the risk of too much detail, I was testing the capabilities of modern antiperspirant technology to their limits. Since I’d found out about it on Wednesday evening, I’d spent most of my time planning for this big night.
I’d been watching the news, so I’d know what was going on in the world if the subject turned to current affairs — no chance of me joining a discussion on Osborne’s latest monetary policy decision thinking it’s something to do with Sharon and Ozzy at this dinner party. I read all the arts reviews, so if all was going well I could say to Niamh, ‘I hear the Osborne revival at the National is worth a trip if you’re interested,’ and drop in a few salient facts about Look Back in Anger, so she’d know I wasn’t talking about Kelly trying a pop comeback. I even read the back pages, in case she was one of those sporty gals.
All my clothes had been washed. Some of them had even been ironed. I’d tidied my place and changed the sheets, because, hey, you never knew and it was best to take precautions. Precautions! I’d even rushed and checked the use-by date on my bedside packet of condoms — I didn’t even like using milk that was getting near its expiry date so I was taking no chances.
On Thursday evening I thought everything was under control.
On Friday I was certain I was woefully under-prepared.
What was I going to say? Why did my clothes all suddenly look so dull and old man-ish? Should I have got a haircut? Should I bring a present? What was I going to do about the prospect of social kissing when I arrived? What if she was taller than me? What if I really liked her?
These were questions I was still trying to deal with while I stood in Carl’s Fine Wines and Spirits just down from Rob and Hannah’s. I was wearing my work overcoat, my only non-work shoes, my least saggy-arsed jeans — cords were bringing back too many bad memories still — and the one shirt I felt fitted the bill as fashionable dinner party casual smart. I thought it also hinted at the wry intelligence of a kind and caring man who wanted to look good, but didn’t need to try too hard to prove himself.
It was blue.
‘All right,’