Three
Present
“Oh my God, why did you make me listen to this? It’s so wrong,” Sarita complained as I entered our small Brixton flat.
Sarita and I shared a bedroom, but our third flatmate, Afric, had her own room. Afric, whose name meant ‘pleasant’ in Irish (which was hilarious if you knew her) made her living by recording herself playing video games for people to watch live on the internet. She had a large following, and though she was by no means rich, she made far more money than Sarita or me.
The three of us met when we were tweens and obsessed with the online game Greenforest. Our avatars became fast friends, and soon enough we were playing together every day. This probably explained why I had very little social life as a teenager, but then again, there wasn’t a whole lot for me to do in my little village anyway.
We made a pact that when we were old enough, we’d all move to London and get a flat together. It wasn’t the dream life we’d envisaged, and I’d spent my first six months in the city bouncing between temp jobs. We’d initially hoped to find a flat where we could each have our own room, but those hopes were quickly dashed. In the end we settled for a small two-bedroom, with Sarita and I sharing a room. It wasn’t perfect, but we made it work.
“Turn it off, please!” Sarita begged. “You’re killing my soul. I feel like my heart has fallen all the way to the bottom of my stomach.”
I entered Afric’s bedroom, where they both sat on her bed, laptop open while a song played.
“What’s going on?” I asked, curious.
“Afric’s trying to torture me,” Sarita complained, throwing up her hands dramatically.
Afric chuckled as she glanced at me, her bright blue eyes full of mirth. She got a great kick out of aggravating people, but not in a mean way. It was more of a mischievous thing.
“It’s a song composed by AI,” Afric explained. “It’s supposed to sound like the Beatles. I actually kind of like it.”
Sarita gaped at her. “How can you like this? It sounds so wrong. I can feel its wrongness in my bones.”
I took a moment to listen, while also making a note to tell James about AI music. It seemed like a topic that would be fun to discuss with him.
“I have to agree with Sarita,” I said. “It almost sounds normal, but there’s something slightly off that makes me feel weirdly queasy.”
“Thank you!” Sarita exclaimed.
“You two better get used to it. This is what your future children are going to be listening to,” Afric said.
“If my future children listen to this, I’ll beat them over the head with my collector’s edition Led Zeppelin vinyls,” Sarita countered. By day she was an office clerk, but by night she played guitar in a rock band. She was a musical purist, which was obviously why this robo-song upset her so much.
“All new pioneering forms of music are shunned in the beginning. People thought heavy metal was for Satanists, and that rap would make young people want to join gangs. Now we know those people were wrong and that they were two of the greatest genres of music ever created,” Afric affirmed.
“The difference is those genres have soul. There’s human heart and suffering behind the lyrics, behind the music. This has nothing of the sort.” Sarita flicked a hand, dismissing the song.
“Well, AI is created by humans, so technically there is heart behind it, if you trace it far enough back,” Afric said, looking pleased with her logic.
Sarita heaved a sigh. “Oh my God, I refuse to argue with you when you get like this.”
“As interesting as this discussion is, I’m starving,” I said. “Anyone in the mood for pizza?”
They both nodded enthusiastically, and I went out into the kitchen to grab my phone. Sarita followed me, plopping down on a stool by the counter.
“How was work?” she asked.
“It was fine, the usual,” I replied, not mentioning James because my crush on him was a secret I’d take to my grave. Yes, I was so ashamed of it that I couldn’t even bring myself to divulge the truth to my closest friends.
“That’s good to hear. I, on the other hand, had the most boring day ever. I swear offices were created by some devious lower demon as a slow, tedious form of death.”
“Do you have any gigs this weekend?” I asked and her eyes lit up. Sarita’s day job was a means to an end. Her passion was her music and playing shows was what she truly looked forward to.
“Yes, actually. We have a show at The Dublin Castle on Saturday. Want to come?”
“I’d love to. I might even try to drag Afric out of her bedroom and away from her game console long enough to come, too,” I said with a grin.
“Who’s talking about me?” came Afric’s voice through the door.
“I was wondering what toppings you want on your pizza?” I called back, winking at Sarita.
“Meat feast, please,” she responded loudly. “I’m starting a live stream in five minutes, so can you bring it in to me when it arrives?”
“When was the last time you actually ate at the table?” Sarita yelled.
“Eating at the table doesn’t pay the bills,” Afric responded cheekily while Sarita and I both shook our heads.
Our friend was going to turn into a shut-in one of these days. I mean, I was partial to a long gaming session myself, but I at least re-entered the land of the living after a day or two. Afric once went an entire month without leaving the flat.
Perhaps I really should convince her to come to Sarita’s gig this weekend. It would be good for her. And perhaps I’d meet someone interesting enough to take my mind off James for once.
***
The following day was Friday. I was running around the city doing errands for the cast, ticking each one off my list as I went. Paul needed me to hook his new flat up with TV and internet. Then I had to pick up some baby things for Trevor, since he and his partner, Reya, were expecting in a couple of weeks. A delivery of energy drinks was arriving at the gym, and Callum’s bike needed to be brought in for repairs.
Days like this were exhausting when you didn’t own a car and had to get everywhere on public transport. My second to last errand was to pick up dry cleaning for James and leave it at his flat. I’d been putting it off all day, mostly because going to his place felt weird, like I was invading his personal space. I knew I wouldn’t feel this way if it weren’t for my crush on him. If I didn’t have feelings for James, then going to his flat would be nothing more than a mundane part of my workday. Instead, it was a maze of emotional angst. And don’t even get me started on my fear of bumping into Diana.
I steeled myself, determined to just bite the bullet and get it over and done with. Then I might just have enough time to go home and take a quick shower before I needed to hurry across the city to Leanne and Callum’s place.
Yes, the work of a personal assistant was never done. Or at least it felt that way sometimes.
It was Leanne’s birthday and Callum was throwing her a small party at their flat. I was in charge of bringing the cake, while my co-assistant, Neil, was arranging the food and drink. The cake currently sat in my fridge at home, and I’d stuck a bright yellow Post-it Note on the box explicitly warning Afric and Sarita not to eat it.
Neil and I had a set of keys that let us into each of the cast members’ homes. It was easier this way since we always had to be letting ourselves in and out. I’d only had cause to enter James’ place a couple of times, and like I said, I always got super antsy about it.
It was just after 6 pm and I hoped Diana would be out. She was an interior designer at one of London’s top firms and I knew she worked long hours because James had mentioned it a few times. Okay, so he mentioned it once, and like the psycho that I was, I remembered.
Just like I remembered every small personal detail he decided to share with me.
I slotted my key in the door and entered the flat, which to my relief, appeared to be empty. So far, so good. I quickly went to hang James’ dry-cleaning on the door to the living area. Then, just as I turned to leave, I heard voices coming from the direction of the bedroom.
I stopped dead in my tracks.
“You’re always putting your friends before me,” Diana cried, her voice thick with emotion.
“I told you about this party weeks ago,” James spoke softly, cajolingly, like he was trying to soothe her.
“I know that, but I had a long day at work. I’m exhausted,” Diana complained. “I just want to stay in tonight.”
“How about I show my face for a little while, give Leanne her birthday gift, then I’ll be back before you know it? I’ll even bring home food from that Italian place you love.”
I heard her scoff. “You want me to eat pasta?! It’s seven weeks until the wedding. I swear sometimes it feels like you don’t even want me to fit into my dress.”
“I’ll get you a salad then, something without carbs.”
“So you think I won’t fit into my dress?”
“What? No, of course not. You just said you didn’t want pasta, so I presumed…”
Realising I definitely shouldn’t be listening to this, I crept as quietly as I could back to the door and left the flat without making a sound. My heart raced as I hurried out, trying not to analyse what I just heard too deeply, but I couldn’t help it. My mind raced a mile a minute. There’d been a viciousness in Diana’s tone that awakened some strange protective instinct in me. I didn’t like how she spoke to James, and I equally didn’t like how he tried to placate her for a situation that wasn’t his fault. Obviously, I hadn’t heard the whole fight, but I wondered if they argued like this a lot. Or was it a once in a blue moon thing? Was their relationship a healthy one, with just a few fights every once in a while, or did Diana talk to him like this all the time? There was something a little emotionally manipulative about what she said to him and it made my chest tighten, my jaw firm.
Ugh! I was such a stalker! The argument was none of my business. I was supposed to be putting my crush on James behind me, and here I was psycho-analysing his relationship like some obsessed bunny boiler. I needed to get back on track. I needed to focus on my job and quit thinking about my boss all the time.
It’s none of your business, I reminded myself again. None. Of. Your. Business. So do your job and get over your crush. With renewed yet grim resolve, I hurried out of the building and headed in the direction of the Tube.