Gavin rubs underneath my lips with their thumb. ‘Sorry, your face is covered in lip gloss.’ I wipe it away, the tackiness of it stretching my skin as I try to dislodge it, leaving it sore. Gavin’s eyes scrunch up, they shake their head. ‘No, that’s just made it worse. I think you’ll need to go to the bathroom to get it all.’
I walk with my head pointed down to the jazzy cinema carpet that has reels of film being unspooled across it and illustrations of overflowing popcorn buckets. When we reach the bathroom, I give Gavin my tote bag and coat to hold while they wait for me outside alongside three teenage boys who say nothing to one another.
Inside the bathroom are three corresponding teenage girls who are checking their flawless makeup in the mirror. Because I am a woman in my thirties, they pay no attention to me, the old woman in their midst. One of them reveals to the other two that Jackson fingered her during the movie and they all giggle. A pang, as I dampen a paper towel with lukewarm water from the tap, that I don’t have a girl pal to excitedly confess to about my getting fingered.
While I scrub at my chin, the girls add to their already potent odour by spritzing one another in more perfume. It’s not the same scent that’s currently overpowering the sink area. The conflicting smells make me headachey. My temples throbbing, I go back to find Gavin exactly where I left them, examining a poster for the new JLo romcom.
‘I should have bought tickets for that film,’ they say, looking at the poster like it’s a real piece of art and not a pic of JLo smiling, holding onto a generically handsome man.
‘So, to be clear, you didn’t enjoy yourself at the one we saw?’
‘No, no. That’s not what I meant.’ Panic crawls across their face alongside a flush of red.
I rescue them. ‘I know. I was teasing.’
Gavin’s shoulders noticeably shrink away from their ears, back down to their usual position. ‘So, what do you want to do now?’
They step towards me to reduce the space between us, put a hand lightly on my hip. My crotch has had its own heartbeat since the first time Gavin’s tongue crossed mine in the cinema. Being able to see them properly, feel the closeness of their entire body, is making me doubt my resolve not to have sex tonight. Still, I move myself back to redraw the boundaries as they were.
‘I’ve really enjoyed myself, really I have, but I think we should take this slow. So maybe we don’t go anywhere else together?’
There’s a loaded pause where Gavin considers what I’ve said, trying to decide if this is an acceptable suggestion to them or something of concern. ‘OK, sounds good. I agree. Want to share a taxi home, then? You’re on my way.’
They get their phone out and start to type in details for the cab as I retrieve my things from beside my feet. The documents for Amara have leaked out the top of my tote. I scurry them back into hiding.
‘Actually, don’t worry about me, I’m going to pop into the 24-hour ASDA for a few things.’
‘I can come with you if you like? I don’t think ASDA is a place where any sex stuff happens.’
I do not correct them by saying I am sure Amara and Nicol have proved that theory wrong. Instead I notice my own reaction to their keenness. How it both flatters and repels me. ‘No, that’s OK. I need to drop off some stuff to my ex-best friend. It’s probably not the greatest atmosphere to end this lovely night on.’ I point to my bulging tote to prove the authenticity of the ‘stuff’.
‘Oh, you mean the documents?’
Gavin keeps swiping on their phone. I freeze, waiting for them to reveal they’ve figured out what I’m up to, but instead they let out an exasperated, ‘Jesus Christ!’ They turn their phone to me and press play on a video. Normally, I think the sort of person who watches videos on their phone in public with the volume up loud should be flogged, but I make an exception this once because it’s of Brian, next to the burn in Cadzow Glen, almost – but not quite – at the spot of Willie’s demise. The caption to the video isGrief can help your business grow.Plant emoji. Broken heart emoji. Sad face with single tear falling emoji. Arrow pointing up emoji. He’s used a beautifying filter, his face luminous, his already white teeth unnaturally incandescent on his AI-smoothed, wrinkle-free face. It’s disconcerting before he even begins to speak.
‘Hiya, guys.’He is trying to be solemn. I know this because I have his usual demeanour to compare it against. However, the overwhelming vibe is of a smug prick in a park. ‘Just wanted to jump on here to talk about loss. I’m not meaning profits or any other kind of financial loss. I’m talking about the losses thatreallymatter. I’m talking about (pause) death. A few weeks ago, a close business associate, and I would also say a close pal, of mine called Willie McAllister was found here. Dead from a heart attack. A week or so before that, one of my other clients died in a tragic accident. Their passing is horrible and sad for everyone who loved them – including me. But, when someone you’re in a business relationship with passes, it presents an opportunity. A chance to reassess that relationship, how it will evolve in its changed shape, how you can maximise it going forward.’
At this point a wee old woman with a fuzzy little dog appears in the background, clearly confused as to what Brian is up to.
‘In this case, I’ve dealt with both men’s families to ensure continuity of care for our tenants on terms that will take the stress out of managing their properties during this difficult time for them – at a premium compared to the previous contracts I had with their deceased relatives. A lesson for us all that a loss can also be a gain.’
The camera then pans to floral tributes that have been left by Willie’s family. In among them there’s a laminated picture of Willie doing as close to a smile as he was ever able. Then his name and his years of birth and death fill the screen, giving the sense this has all been in memoriam of him and not a celebration of Brian.
‘Oh my God. He’s confessing to ripping folk off. Grieving families!’ Can I say that’s a new low? He’s already subterranean yet still he digs deeper.
Gavin clicks out of the video and puts their phone in their pocket while I register my heart is beating harder than before. There’s an electricity running through me from seeing the scene of my crime, the face of my victim. I did that. Me. Maybe I’ll sack off Amara, forget being sensible and invite Gavin back to mine.
I’m about to suggest it when they say, ‘Good idea about us not going anywhere else. I’ve got some calls to make, I should go.’ And even though we both need to leave and there’s only one exit to the building, they head off on their own. Leaving me behind in the illuminated glow of JLo in love.
27
My vibrator dully whirrs away on my clitoris, which, rather than being filled with pleasure, has been rendered numb by fifteen minutes of assault. It doesn’t matter what fantasies my imagination can conjure up, sitting on Gavin’s face or having a crowd of beautiful women pawing my body or being spit-roasted by Colin and Willie, my vagina and clitoris have shut off. Porn could help. It’s not that I don’t like watching it, but recently my own imagination has been more fruitful. It turns out I am capable of all kinds of specific, filthy thoughts that have not yet been captured on film.
It’s unsettling I’m unable to get even a little aroused. This is not a problem I’ve ever had before; even the day after Nicol left I was able to wank successfully. Admitting defeat, I turn the vibrator off, abandoning it beside me on the bed. I stare at the ceiling. Handing the documents over to Amara was an anticlimax. In essence, it was passing paper to a woman I no longer knew. Under the bright white light of the supermarket the chewed nubs of her fingernails stood out to me, her eczema flaring on her forearms like it does when she’s stressed. It made me think of things from her perspective. I was her one true pal, too, and now she’s left with only Nicol. No one to text about the couples onLove is Blind, no one to invite round for a drink and a chat on a quiet Friday night. The whole encounter held no sense of glory; throughout, the soundtrack in my mind was worries about what had turned Gavin against me. It became even more mysterious once I left ASDA and spotted them outside Nando’s. They were on a call like they said they’d be and it looked heated. The words were indistinct but their anger was not.
Pulling my pants up, I realise I’ve grown used to my new behaviours having a big payoff. Knowing I am not going to see the results of helping Amara and Nicol out tonight, or tomorrow, probably not in the next few months, is deeply unsatisfying. Gavin’s attention to me, vanishing as quickly as it came, is equally unsatisfying and I demand satisfaction.
Just as I start a google on incognito mode to check what the current status is with Pete, Gavin messages me. Opening it, I brace myself for it to be them letting me down gently, convince myself that it’s better this way. Their message reads:
