‘Honestly? Mainly trawling the bars.’ My expression twists. ‘It’s not that bad, though, hear me out.’
‘Go on then. Dazzle me.’ I can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm.
‘So, I’ve made a special mention of that hipster place in Shoreditch. You know, the one that has the slider plates you love?’
‘And the cinema on the roof?’
‘That’s the one. Well, I was thinking we could hit them up for a speed dating night. It’d be good for a laugh, as well as a bit of media attention.’
‘Isn’t speed dating a bit passé?’
‘The word passé is passé,’ she deadpans. ‘Speed dating is like having a revival. It’s totally retro now. And I’m going to get a celeb involved. I was thinking about one of the guys fromLust Island.’ At my blank stare, she sighs and rolls her eyes. ‘Do you even have a TV?’
‘Yeah, I just don’t watch it very much.’ And never to watch reality TV. The only reason I know what program she’s talking about is because it’s pretty much all she and Heather have done over the past few weeks.
Can you believe Gav cheated on Cher? What about the new arrivals? But she’s his ex! Darcy’s a totally hottie, but I want Aimee ’cause she’s a normal girl.
I’m not sure about normal. As far as I can tell, the contestants are buffed, bleached, and Botoxed to within an inch of their lives. Besides, can anyone who signs up live under the scrutiny of around-the-clock filming be normal?
‘I’ve reached out to their agent and am waiting for her to get back to me with the fees. Don’t look so stressed. It’s all just in the inception stages at the minute.’
‘So the blog post as it stands?’ I bring the conversation back. Mir is like a squirrel on speed with explanations and timelines.
‘Just recommendations. Like that place with the massive ball pool, though I always find the kid’s places smell like funky cheese. But they have singles evenings, apparently.’
‘Where you can touch all the balls you want?’
‘Even the blue ones.’
‘You’re bad,’ I reply with a snigger.
‘You set it up for me,’ she retorts, miming a tennis shot. ‘And then there’s the Samba place that has beginner’s lessons and any number of Latin men with snake-like hips.’
‘They’d also have broken toes if they partnered with me,’ Heather quips.
‘Anything else?’
‘Yeah, a rec for the place that serves drinks from smoking cauldrons.’ I look back blankly. ‘You remember the Alchemist’s Haven? I wanted you to come with me a couple of Fridays ago for cocktails and eye candy city gents.’
‘Urgh.’
‘Come on,’ she scoffs. ‘You can’t fool me. Suit porn and drinks bought for you by pretty and eager boys isevery girl’sfavourite Friday night.’
‘I’m not a fan of the type.’
‘But a well-tailored suit is to women what lingerie is to men.’
I lean down as I lower my voice, flicking my eyes across the room to Jorge. ‘I’d rather date a cardigan than a suit.’
‘That’s blasphemy.’
‘It’s also a blatant lie,’ Satan says. And when I look up, the fiend has appeared in all his suited glory.
Beckett.
The man with one name.
The devil I’ve been trying so hard not to think about.
