Love Me to Death (11 page)

I close the message screen and pull up my call log. I scroll down to the number I called Ned on that first day when I was enquiring about the acting job. I save the number as
Ned
and pull up a new message.

Me: How’s the meeting going? Cole (AKA Brennan which is actually the name on my BIRTH CERTIFICATE)

I get a reply within thirty seconds, and I cannot deny that I am a little excited. I roll over onto my stomach and read Ned’s message.

Ned: Boring and uncomfortable. (Cole sounds better … I know a company that can legally change the name if you want their details?)

I laugh.

Me: Uncomfortable? (I’ll pass on the name change.)

Ned: I think I may have shrunk my floss when I did my washing last night. One word: Ouch. (And your loss.)

I burst out laughing.

Me: I told you those things were dangerous. We’re taking them back tomorrow. Do you need me to come and assess the damage? I can take pictures for the lawsuit …

Ned: Actually it was my own fault. My others are very comfortable. No lawsuit necessary.

Me: Pictures?

Ned: Definitely not necessary.

Me: Video footage?

Ned: I’m pretty sure collecting video footage is in direct violation of the contract.

Me: You’re always in business mode … no fun.

Ned: Someone has to be.

Bang. Bang. Bang.
I groan at the sound of someone knocking on my front door.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Could you be any more impatient?
Suddenly I freeze. Oh no. I didn’t pay Larry. He’s probably here to kick me out. How on earth did I forget?!

Me: Babe, I’ve got to go, I think my landlord is here. I forgot to pay my rent and I’m pretty sure that I’m about to get evicted. Enjoy your meeting!

I jump out of my bed, pull on a pair of shorts, and a T-shirt before racing to the door.
Bang. Bang. Bang.

“I’m coming,” I shout as I try to speed my way down the hall. I get to the door and swing it open. It’s Bobby. “Oh, it’s you?”

“Yes, it’s me. You ignored my message.” He says rushing past me, straight into the apartment.

“Yeah, I’ve been a little busy.”

“I’m sure you have,” he says as I walk into my living room behind him.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you had a girlfriend?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t play dumb, Bren, it doesn’t work with me. You don’t date and something is going on here and I want to know what.” He stands up and watches me closely. “If you’ve got yourself into trouble, spill now because it’s me or Layla who is going to have to try and get you out of whatever it is. Is she married, is that it? Oh gosh, her husband’s in the mafia isn’t he?”

I start laughing.

“What is so funny?”

“You. I’m sure you’re the one that should have the acting career. No, she’s not married and she has no links to the mafia.”
I hope.

“Then what is going on?”

“She’s my boss.”
Technically the truth.

“You’re sleeping with your boss?”

“Yes.”
I slept in her house so that sentence could totally be misinterpreted, right?

“Not as bad as I thought,” he says before flopping back onto my battered couch.

“You always think the worst of me,” I say.

“Yeah, and I’m usually right.”

“True. You want a drink?”

“Yeah, what you got?”

“Water or water?”

He rolls his eyes.

“Gosh, there’s just so many choices; I think I’ll go for…water.”

“Excellent decision,” I reply sarcastically before heading into the kitchen. I run the faucet for a few seconds before grabbing a glass out of the cabinet and filling it up.

“Are you sure this won’t affect your job?” I hear Bobby shout.

I don’t answer until I have walked back into the room.

I shake my head. “I’m contracted for a year,” I say, handing him the glass.

I take the seat opposite him. “Yeah but I’m pretty sure that sleeping with your boss is grounds for having your contract terminated.”

“Bobby, it’ll be fine. You worry too much.”

“Yeah, and you worry too little. And why is she going around telling people she’s your girlfriend if you’re just sleeping with her?”

“Because she is.” He spits the water out of his mouth and onto my carpet.

“Not cool, man,” I groan.

“I’m sorry but did you just refer to a member of the opposite sex as your girlfriend?”

“It’s not that hard to believe,” I mumble.

“Oh believe me it is. I thought there was a higher chance of you turning out gay.”

“You’re a moron.”

“Maybe so, but I am right. So, are you guys exclusive as in you’re not gonna bang any other chicks?”

Deep breath. “Nope.”

“Nope to being exclusive or banging other chicks?”

“Nope to the chicks.” I can’t say it out loud because it still hurts to say. He laughs. Loud.

“Are you in love?”

“Have you lost your mind?”

“Come on, Bren, you
never
date and now you’re going around saying this chick is your girlfriend and that you’re not planning on sleeping with any other girls. Either the sex is
really
good or you’re in love.” I have no idea how good the sex is but I wish I did.

“You know what? This conversation is over. Is that all you came here for?”

“Pretty much.” He smirks.

“Wipe that stupid look off your face and get out of my apartment.”

“Oh, did I hit a nerve?”

“No, I just want to go and wash my balls in peace and that’s not exactly possible with you around.”

“Why don’t you get
Ned
to wash them?” He teases.

“Maybe I will.”
I wish I could.

“You’re whipped.”

“And you’re a creepy stalker.”

“That’s not funny man,” he says more seriously.

“I wasn’t being funny; following a girl around without her knowledge is usually referred to as stalking.”

“I don’t follow her around. I just visit her at work, without her knowledge.” Now I laugh.

“Stalker.”

“Shut up,” he says before stomping toward my front door.

“Where are you going? To stalk your imaginary girlfriend?”

“She’s not imaginary and I’m not stalking her! I’m going to return a pair of shoes.”

I laugh even louder.

“Shut up, Bren,” he says as he walks out the door.

“Have fun!” I shout at him before closing the door. I laugh all the way to my room. That laugh changes to a smile when I see a message from Ned.

Ned: That doesn’t make sense. I paid him the day we signed the contract, straight after I paid you …

Me: Who?

I’m so confused while waiting for her to reply. I stare at my screen until it lights up with a message from her.

Ned: Your landlord. Larry. I paid him, so why would he evict you?

Me: He didn’t. It wasn’t Larry, it was Bobby. What do you mean you paid him? I’m confused.

Ned: I had to do a background check on you before you signed the contract, Cole. When I did it came up that you owed four months rent.

It looks like everyone but Larry knew that I owed him
four
months’ rent. Maybe he was just testing me to see if I would fess up.

Me: And you paid it?

Ned: Yes.

I smile.

Me: Haha I knew you liked me.

Ned: What? I DO NOT like you.

Me: Yes, you do.

Ned: What on earth brings you to that conclusion?

Me: Babe, you paid my rent. You knew I was in trouble and came to my rescue. It’s kind of cute actually.

Ned: Ha ha ha is that what you think? Don’t be ridiculous, Cole. Remember that you’re my “boyfriend” and if you get evicted then the expectation is that you should move in with me and that was not something I was about to let happen. So I found Larry’s details, got in contact and made sure there was no reason for you to move in with me.

Me: Ned?

Ned: Yes?

Me: You like me, babe.

I laugh as I’m typing.

Ned: It’s coming off your next paycheck.

She’s adorable
. I don’t reply. Instead, I make a call to Layla. She picks up instantly.

“Hey, Sis.”

“Brennan, is everything ok?”

“Yeah, everything is great.”

“Oh, then what’s up?”

“I just called to see if you wanted to go out for something to eat tonight?”

“I thought you said next week?”

“Well, I changed my mind. I want to take you out tonight.”

“You do?” She sounds surprised.

“Yes, I do. Come on, I’m trying to turn over a new leaf here stop making me look bad.” I hear laughing down the phone.

“Ok, continue,” she says.

“I was thinking that we could check out that new restaurant, La Vita?” I tell myself that I want to go to La Vita because I’m really looking forward to trying the food but who am I kidding?

“Yeah, my friend Ellie said the food is amazing.”

“Is the menu in English?” I ask, panicked.

“I think so.” She sounds baffled.

“Good. Shall we say around six?”

“That’s perfect. I’ll just message Jamie and tell him that he’s got the kids all to himself tonight.” She chuckles.

“Great, I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too. Bye.”

“See you later.”

Layla pulls up outside of my apartment at exactly 5:45 p.m. She sends me a text and I head down to her car and slide right in. It smells like baby diapers and vomit when I get in but I decide not to say anything since she looks a little stressed.

“You ok?” I ask nervously.

“Not really, no.”

Now ladies … you need to know that when a guy asks you if you’re ok all he is looking for is a simple “yes, I’m fine”
nothing
else. When a woman is
too
enthusiastic and answers with a “yeah, I’m great” it makes us suspicious and we start asking questions like “what the hell has made her feel
so
good today” and you don’t want that. Now, more importantly, what you really need to know is that when you answer with a leading statement like “not really, no” it means that you expect us to carry on the conversation and that is the last thing we want to do. That is a man’s worse fear.
Here goes nothing …

“What’s the matter?”

“Jamie! He’s being such a jerk. He’s complaining because he has to watch the kids tonight. Apparently,
he’s
too tired after work. Well, I’m freaking tired too! Does he have any idea how hard it is to look after a four-year-old and a nine-month-old baby? No, he doesn’t because he gets to escape to work every day. He doesn’t have to put up with the tantrums, the screaming, crying, scratching, biting, and lack of sleep
.” See what I mean, ladies? This is not what we want to hear.
“Oh, I’m sorry this is probably the last thing you want to hear.” She huffs.

See, this is a trick statement because if we say no then you guys go crazy. If we say yes then we enter into phase two.
But every man knows that option one is way more dangerous.