Poor Shannon. At least Gil wasn’t going anywhere. As I walked, and my heart beat faster at the thought of seeing him, I decided I was prepared to say, “I’ve seen my boyfriend again, and things feel different. I might be willing to give him up. Do you want to be my boyfriend for the next three months?”
And if he said yes, what would happen after three months? Hell if I knew. Jump off that railroad bridge when we come to it.
It was Saturday night, and the pub throbbed with customers and electronic music. I squirmed through the crowd to the bar, and stood on tiptoe to wave over someone’s head at Gil.
“Oi, tourist!” He beckoned me around to a vacant corner. “You’ve come up to witness me last night, then?”
“Yep. Tony went home this morning, so I’m all yours.”
“Ooh, is that so? Me break comes up in an hour. Cheeky dram for you in the meantime?”
I sipped a weak rum-and-Coke at the bar, and fended off would-be suitors (with Gil’s help) until his break. Then he led me through the kitchen and out to the alley. The quiet space and fresh air, though freezing, was a relief after the loud, sweaty pub.
“Been a while since I’ve seen you,” he purred, an inch from my mouth.
I took hold of his shirt--white with yellow zigzags, but cotton at least--and pulled him up against me. Just as we began kissing, a blast of light and sound poured out from behind us. Someone had opened the door.
“Gil,” said Dave. “Er, sorry. That woman’s here to see you. The one from the studio.”
“Christ. Shelly?” said Gil.
“Aye, the latter.”
“Right. I better talk to her. She’s my employer now.” He winked at me and darted back inside.
Left with little choice, I followed him, feeling cheaper than ever. Tony hadn’t even reached home soil yet, and already the pub’s proprietor had caught me kissing the bartender, who in turn was more excited to see another woman.
“Gilleon!” said her brassy voice.
“Shelly!” He leaned across the bar on his elbows, grinning at her.
“We heard you were quitting, so we thought we’d come harass you. ‘Harass’--hah! Great choice of words!” She opened her mouth wide in laughter. The two women and three men with her, presumably Gil’s former coworkers, joined in.
I approached slowly, studying her closer than I had been able to before. She had more bosom than I could ever hope for, but she wasn’t fat, just voluptuous. Her makeup was perfect and her eyebrows were plucked to slick little arches. She wore a shiny butt-hugging leather skirt and a vinyl jacket that was green from some angles and blue from others.
I suddenly felt like a frumpy high-school girl in my wool skirt and inept mascara. I withdrew to the corner of the bar and played with the wet coaster under an empty glass.
Gil introduced us. “This is my friend Eva, visiting from the States.”
Shelly leaned over and shook my hand with a big smile. “Halloo! Saw you here last week, right?”
“Yep.”
“Good to see you again.” She beamed, but returned her attention immediately to Gil. She didn’t ask where in the States I was from, or what I was doing here, or anything at all. I clearly did not matter to her.
And I didn’t matter much to Gil either, I concluded soon. He chatted with her and his other studio friends for the remainder of his break, then slid right back into work, still talking to them whenever he caught a chance. Oh, he talked to me too, but now his cheerfulness seemed only to be the product of Shelly’s presence.
So, two hours after I’d arrived, I called to him over the noise, “I have to work tomorrow. I’m going to head back.”
He looked sympathetic but not disappointed. “Ah, if you must. I’ll call on Monday from the studio, if I get a chance.”
If he got a chance. Lovely.
“Goodnight.” I took my coat from the wall peg.
He nodded to me, smiling. Didn’t even seem regretful that I was leaving without a kiss. Had no idea I had planned to discuss being his honest-to-God girlfriend tonight. Didn’t grasp how utterly he had trampled my alternatives-to-Tony plan.
Feeling sorry for myself, I tried to conjure up some tears on the walk home. The situation seemed to call for it, and I thought I would feel better. But I could only muster up frustrated pinpricks of salt water. No real, heartfelt teardrops.
Laurence encountered me in the stairwell as I stomped up. “Wow, the angst, it emanates,” he remarked.
I stopped. “You know what that Shelly Davis reminds me of? Betty Boop, with the voice of Yosemite Sam. Only Scottish.”
He grinned. “Well, I haven’t heard her say ‘varmint’ yet, but give her time.” He came down a few steps to me. “You saw her again?”
“She barged into the pub tonight and completely took over Gil’s attention.” I slumped against the railing, hands in my coat pockets. “I’m such an idiot. Show up the very night my boyfriend leaves, looking like a harlot, and acting like one. You should’ve heard me. ‘He’s gone; I’m all yours’. Kissing him in the alley like some--” I stopped, and shook my head. “Anyway, Shelly showed up and he pretty much forgot I existed. It’s exactly what everyone could have predicted. I don’t even know why I tried. Gloat if you want. I’m going to sleep.” I trudged up past him.
“I’m not going to gloat.”
I kept climbing.
“Eva. Turn around.”
I stopped, and turned.
“Open the coat.”
I obeyed, bracing myself for a fashion critique.
He studied me up and down. “Put stiletto heels on the shoes, make the skirt a few inches shorter, and undo one more shirt button. Then you would look cheap. But you don’t, as it stands.”
A smile pulled at my mouth. Compared to what he could have said, it was generous. “Thanks, Laurence.”
“Anytime.”
I waved at him and pushed through the door. A girl could indeed see why Amber adored him.