CALLUM
‘The champagne seems to be going down a treat,’ Marcus says. ‘You better hope she drinks the entire bottle herself before she gets a proper look at you with those fucking cauliflower ears.’
As if his ears are any better. Occupational hazard, unfortunately.
Marcus should’ve left hours ago, yet he loiters like a bad smell, desperate to witness my certain failure. I push a medium-rare sirloin around my plate across the table from him.
‘Everything ok with your food, sir?’ a young brunette waitress asks politely.
‘Yes. It’s perfect. Thank you,’ I reply.
‘I wouldn’t have pegged you for an Ask Abby fan.’ She clears the empty glasses from our table.
‘What’s an “Ask Abby”?’ I don’t even attempt to mask my confusion.
‘You know that radio show on Ireland Today called Ask Abby?’ She nods at the four girls across the room. Abby.
So she’s some sort of celebrity. Typical. ‘Did you know this?’ I demand.
‘Did we fuck, but she’s perfect,’ Marcus bellows clutching his stomach with pent-up laughter. ‘My Mrs. listens to that show at lunchtime, reckons she’s absolutely brilliant. You want to know the best bit?’ He sits back from the table and smacks his thigh with utter childlike glee.
I don’t really, but he’s going to tell us anyway.
‘She’s one of those women’s rights proactivist or something. One of those burn-your-bra type of gals. Women from all round the country phone in with their woes, usually about men. If I recall it rightly, now I could be wrong, but Shelly told me Fabby Abby doesn’t date. Ha!’ He rubs his hands together in sheer, unconcealed delight.
This complicates things, but at least she wasn’t lying earlier when she said she doesn’t date.
‘I couldn’t have actually picked anyone better for you. Two peas in a singleton pod. I can safely say, the heated leather interior of my beautiful Audi, has never been more secure underneath my pert little backside.’
‘Well played, man.’ Ollie is impressed. ‘She looks like a ballbreaker alright.’
‘But the bet still stands?’ Eddie checks.
‘Hell yeah!’
‘And if I lose?’ I ask.
‘You’ll be lonely forever, man. We’re doing this for your benefit, really,’ James says with a wry smile.
For a split second, I wonder if he’s telling the truth. Is this how men instigate an interfriendshen? Jesus, I must be in a worse state than I originally thought.
‘At the very least, I’ll enjoy watching you squirm.’ Marcus strokes his stubble arrogantly with his knuckle.
‘At the very best, you might find that dating the same girl turns out to be better than you think.’ James assumes the voice of reason, his impending vows have gone straight to his head. Where’s my mate that used to brag about his aching balls after nailing not one, but two girls in the same night?
Did they hatch this plan because they secretly think I’m a disgusting desperate old man, approaching his peak, on and off the pitch, and the only way now is down?
No, they’re not that thoughtful. My eternal singledom’s simply a source of entertainment to them. Suddenly, I feel old.
‘You know what, guys, I’m going to stay here for another night.’ My luggage’s been in and out of the boot of my car more times today than a toddler doing the hokey fucking pokey. I can’t face another night out on the pull now. Odd, when it’s all I’d been looking forward to all week. I’ve got work to do. If I hang around here, I might just be able to Ask Abby…
The fact that she doesn’t date intrigues me. She must have at some point; she’s too good looking not to have. Not to mention worldly, if she has enough experience to be dishing out advice to the women of the country on national radio. What happened to her? She’s different to any other woman I’ve encountered, demonstrating more spirit than most of the guys I’ve met on the field.
For a split second, I consider negotiating a deal with her to get her to come to James’s wedding with me to get my nutjob teammates off my back for a couple of months. I can’t pursue her under a pretence. God forbid, she broke her rules for me, I’d only break her heart. Ha. Talk about getting ahead of myself. She shot me down loud and clear. Twice. Not that I’d disclose that to the lads, though it offered a head start in some respects. I’m not stupid enough to plough on over like an oncoming freight train, to be knocked back magnificently, as I undoubtedly would be.
No, this needs careful consideration if I’m to wipe that smug smile from Marcus’s face once and for all. I’m determined to have the last laugh here. Maybe Fabby Abby could be just the woman to help me.
‘You’re a man on a mission,’ Marcus says with a smirk.
‘You have no idea.’ Abby might need a hand unzipping that dress after all.
