“Well this pretty lady is capable of buying her own shit,” I mumbled, but Phil either didn’t hear me or pretended he didn’t.
“God that man has such a great ass,” Hayley sighed after headed to the bar.
She was joined in a chorus of agreement from Clara and Libby, who worked in marketing.
“He just broke up with Becky last week,” Libby shared, glancing back at the man in question, who was still waiting to get my drink.
“That was quick. What happened?” Hayley asked, having to shout to be heard over the noise of the pub.
“I’m not sure, Becky’s not talking about it. I bet it had to do with the whole Carrie thing from last month,” Clara replied knowingly.
I had no idea who Becky and Carrie were and I didn’t really care. I had liked gossip. I had been on the receiving end of nasty rumors more times than I could count. High school hadn’t been a pleasant experience for me. College was better only in that I had learned to keep my nose to the ground and to avoid any and all attention.
“Yeah, well it seems Phil is ready to move on,” Libby giggled, giving me a wide-eyed look.
“What?” I asked in confusion, not understanding what she was alluding to.
“They’re telling you in their catty, female way, that Phil is looking to jump into your knickers,” Andrew said. Andrew was a scrawny guy with too much facial hair and not enough on top of his head. He was a network engineer like me and out of everyone at the table, the one I had the most interaction with at the office.
“Um, I’m not looking for anyone to get in my knickers.” My face flamed hot in embarrassment at the turn of the conversation.
Libby, Clara, and Hayley shared a look that wasn’t entirely nice. “Oh, don’t worry about it. You’re the shiny new toy.” Libby patted my hand, giving me a smile that I couldn’t decide if it was friendly or not.
I had always struggled with female friendships. Growing up I never had a group of girls I hung out with. I never had a best friend. Most the time I had played with the boys, which as I grew older, became the source of a lot of my issues.
“Here you go, Morgan.” Phil had reappeared and put the drink down on the table in front of me. I noted the way his eyes lingered on my chest and I wished I had left my coat on. He was the kind of man I hated. The ones that thought they could get whatever they wanted. And seeing the way Libby and Clara vied for his attention, it was obvious that was what Phil Wickenham was used to.
“So, Morgan, how are you liking the UK?” Hayley asked, grabbing a handful of nuts and popping them into her mouth.
“It’s taking some getting used to,” I admitted. I sipped on my daiquiri. It was good. Too good. These could be dangerous for me if I wasn’t careful.
“Like what?” Charlie, an older man with an unfortunate goatee, asked. I knew that Charlie worked in sales and he dressed the part, complete with shiny pants and bad comb over. But he seemed like a nice guy, if a little out of touch in the dressing himself department.
“Like why I can’t find paper towels when I do my online shopping. What the hell do you call them? And why there aren’t any outlets in the bathroom? And lets talk about how there’s hardly any water in your toilets, it’s unsettling. And why there are hours upon hours of television devoted to darts and pool?”
“I think you mean snooker,” Andrew piped up.
“Fine, snooker,” I conceded.
“Well, we don’t put outlets in the bathroom because we’re all about not electrocuting ourselves. As for the water in the toilet, we care about water conservation in this part of the world,” Charlie stated after taking a long drink of beer that left foam on his upper lip.
“And darts is bloody boring, but it’s the drinking that makes it fun,” Libby added.
“As for the snooker, who the hell knows,” Hayley laughed.
“But what about the paper towels?” I bemoaned. I finished my daiquiri and barely noticed that Phil had gotten up to get me another one. I was feeling a little buzzed, which was loosening my tongue.
Everyone at the table laughed. “Paper towels?” Libby asked.
“You know the things you keep in your kitchen that you wipe stuff up with.” I took a handful of something called pork scratchings and put them in my mouth.
And promptly spit them out into a napkin.
“What the hell is this?” I gagged.
“Tiny, delectable pieces of pig flesh,” Andrew chuckled, eating some of the offending food item.
“Oh my god. That’s gross. So gross,” I gasped. Phil returned with another daiquiri and I drank most of it in one gulp to get the taste out of my mouth.
