Marian Keyes - Lucy Sullivan Is Getting Married (44 page)

"You'd better have plenty of energy for gameplaying on Thursday night," he said curtly.

"And so what if I do?" I asked angrily. "I'm allowed to have sex, you know. Why have you gone all Victorian-dad on me?"

"Because you deserve better than him."

He got up to leave. "Are you sure you don't need me to stay the night?"

"I'm sure, thanks," I answered.

"And you'll think about what I said about getting help for your Dad?"

"I'll think about it."

"I'll call you tomorrow. Bye."

As he bent to kiss me--on the cheek--I said, "Oh, er, Daniel, can you loan me any money?"

"How much?"

"Er, twenty, if you don't mind."

He gave me sixty.

"Have a nice time with Gus," he said.

"This money isn't for Gus," I said defensively.

"I didn't say it was."

74 I was beside myself about seeing Gus. Obviously, because I hadn't been out for about three months, some of the excitement was good plain old-fash- ioned cabin fever. But it wasn't just that--I was still crazy about him. I'd never given up hope that it might work out for us. I was lucy sullivan is getting married / 527

so excited that I was able to put my worry about Dad on hold.

When I told the others in the office that I was meeting Gus, there was mayhem. Meredia and Jed gasped with delight, then linked arms and skipped around the office, knocking over a chair in the process. Then they changed direction and Meredia's generous hip sent a desk organizer flying onto the floor, scattering paper clips and pens and highlighters everywhere.

They were almost as excited as I was--probably because their social and romantic lives were as uneventful as mine, and they were glad of any di- version, personal or vicarious.

Only Megan looked disgusted.

"Gus?" she asked. "You're going out with Gus? But what happened? Where did you meet him?"

"I didn't, he called me."

"The little bastard!" she exclaimed.

There was a chorus of disagreement from the rest of us.

"No, he's not," yelled Meredia.

"Leave him alone, he's a great guy," shouted Jed.

"So what happened?" demanded Megan, ignoring them. "He called you and then what?"

"He asked me to meet him," I said.

"And did he say why?" she quizzed. "Did he say what he wants from you?"

"No."

"And are you going to meet him?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"Tomorrow."

"Can we come too?" begged Meredia, as she crouched on the floor, scooping up handfuls of staples.

"No, Meredia, not this time," I said. 528 / marian keyes

"Nothing nice ever happens to us," she said moodily.

"Oh, come on now," said Jed jovially, trying to cheer her up. "What about the fire drill?"

We had had a fire drill about a week before, and in fairness, it had been great fun. Especially as we got advance warning of it--Gary in Security leaked details of it to Megan in a fruitless attempt to advance himself sexually with her. So, for two hours before the bell went off, we had our coats on and our bags on our desks, ready to go.

According to the memo that had been circulated, I was a Fire Monitor, but I didn't know what that was, and no one had explained it to me. So, instead, I took advantage of the bedlam and confusion and went to Oxford Street and took in a couple of shoe stores.

"Don't meet him, Lucy," said Megan. She sounded upset.

"It's okay," I reassured Megan, touched by her protectiveness. "I can look after myself."

She shook her head, "He's bad news, Lucy."

And then she was unusually silent.

The following day when Jed came into work, he said he hadn't been able to sleep the night before with excitement. Then he complained all day long that he had butterflies in his stomach.

He insisted on personally vetting my appearance before I met Gus. "Good luck, Agent Sullivan," he said. "We're all depending on you."

It had been a long time since I had felt this young and happy. As if life had possibilities.

Gus was waiting outside the building for me, swapping insults with Winston and Harry (which I later discovered were real). When I saw him my stomach did a flip-- lucy sullivan is getting married / 529

he looked so good, his black, shiny hair falling into his green eyes.

The passage of four months had done nothing to diminish his attractive- ness.

"Lucy," he shouted when he saw me and lounged sexily over to me, opening his arms wide.

"Gus." I smiled breathlessly, hoping he wouldn't see that my legs were wobbling from exhilaration and nerves.

He threw his arms around me and wrapped me tight, but my soaring happiness came to a screeching halt as I got a whiff of alcohol from him.

It was nothing unusual for Gus to reek of alcohol--in fact it was more unusual for him not to reek of alcohol. That was one of the things I found attractive about him.

Or rather, had found attractive about him.

Not anymore, it seemed.

For a moment I felt a flash of anger--if I'd wanted to spend the evening with a smelly drunk I could have stayed at home with Dad. My evening with Gus was supposed to be The Great Escape, not more of the same.

He moved back slightly so he could look at me, but kept his arms around me and smiled and smiled and smiled. And I cheered up. I felt dizzy to be within kissing distance of that sexy, handsome face. I'm with Gus, I thought in disbelief, I'm holding my dream in my arms.

"Let's go for a drink, Lucy," he suggested.

There was that feeling again--a surge of annoyance.

Well, surprise, surprise, I thought, pissed off. I had hoped he might have planned something a bit more imaginative for our reconciliation. Silly me.

"Come on," he beckoned and started walking briskly. In fact, he almost broke into a run. He must be dying for a drink, I thought, as I traipsed be- hind him. He led us to a nearby pub, which we had been to lots of times in the 530 / marian keyes

past. It was one of Gus's favorite pubs, he knew the barman and most of the clientele.

As I passed over the threshold behind the speeding Gus, I suddenly thought--I hate this pub. I had never noticed before, but I always felt uncom- fortable there.

It was dirty and no one ever wiped off the tables. It was full of men who all stared at me when I came in, and the staff were downright rude to wo- men. Or maybe it was just me.

But I tried to think positive.

I was with Gus and he looked beautiful. He was cute and funny and sexy. Even if he was still wearing that awful sheepskin coat that I was sure had fleas.

There was a momentous break with tradition when the time came to buy the first drink--it was paid for by Gus.

And what a production he made of it. Naturally, as soon as we were sitting down, I had reached for my purse, as I always had to with Gus. With everyone, I thought gloomily. But instead of placing his order with me, like he usually did, he jumped up and practically roared, "NO, NO! I won't hear of it!"

"What?" I asked, slightly irritated.

"Put your money away, put your money away!" he urged, waving his arm in a "put your money away" fashion at me, like drunk uncles do at a wedding. "I'm getting this round."

It was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds--Gus had money. It was a sign telling me that everything would be fine, Gus would take care of me.

"Okay." I smiled.

"No, I insist," he said loudly, making flapping movements in the direction of my purse.

"Fine," I said.

"I'll be insulted if you won't let me. I'll take it as a lucy sullivan is getting married / 531

personal insult if you won't permit me to get this round," he insisted, with great magnanimity.

"Gus," I said, "I'm not arguing."

"Oh. Oh. Right then." He sounded a bit put out. "What do you want?"

"A gin and tonic," I muttered humbly.

He arrived back with my gin and a pint of lager and a measure of whiskey for himself.

His face was dark with annoyance.

"Jesus," he complained. "It's daylight robbery! Do you know how much that gin and tonic was?"

Not as much as I'll have to spend on you for the next round, I thought. Why do you always have to order two drinks at once, when everyone else has just one at a time?

But all I said was a meek "sorry" because I didn't want to cast a blight on the evening that I had looked forward to so much.

His bad mood didn't last long, though; they never did.

"Cheers, Lucy." He smiled, clinking his pint against my extortionate gin.

"Cheers," I said, trying to sound as if I meant it.

"I drink, therefore I am," he announced, with a grin, and drank half the pint in one gulp.

I smiled, but it was an effort. Usually I was delighted by his witty re- marks, but not this evening.

It wasn't going the way I had wanted it to.

I didn't really know what to talk to Gus about, and he didn't seem to be bothered talking at all. In the past, we had always had so much to talk about, I thought wistfully. But suddenly it was awkwardness and tense silences--at least on my part.

I desperately wanted to make it all right, to push us through the tension barrier, but I hadn't the heart to kick-start the conversation. 532 / marian keyes

Gus made no effort either. In fact he seemed oblivious of the silence. Oblivious of me too, I realized after a while.

He was a man at peace with himself and the world, settled in his armchair with his drinks and his cigarette, comfortable, pleased with himself, sur- veying the pub, nodding and winking at the people he knew, watching the world go by.

As relaxed as a newt.

He grinned and finished his two drinks in record speed, went back to the bar and got himself another couple.

He didn't offer to get me another drink. Not even one. I hadn't minded this behavior before. I certainly minded now.

We sat there in silence, me mute with expectation, while he drank his two drinks and smoked a cigarette. Then he threw the remaining half pint or so down in one gulp and, before he had even finished swallowing, gasped, "Your round, Lucy."

Like a robot, I got out of my seat and asked him what he wanted.

"A pint and a small one," he said innocently.

"Anything else?" I asked sarcastically.

"Thanks very much, Lucy," he said, sounding delighted. "Fine girl you are, I could do with some smokes."

"Smokes?"

"Cigarettes."

"Cigarettes? What flavor?"

"Benson and Hedges."

"How many? A thousand?"

He seemed to find that hilarious. "Just twenty will do, unless you really want to buy me more."

"No, Gus, I don't," I said coldly.

While I waited at the bar, I wondered why I was so pissed off. lucy sullivan is getting married / 533

It was my own fault, I decided. I had set myself up for disappointment. I had come with so much expectation. And too much need.

I yearned for Gus to be nice to me, to pay me attention, to tell me he'd missed me, that I was beautiful, that he was madly in love with me.

And he hadn't. He hadn't asked how I was, he didn't explain where he had been, why he hadn't contacted me for nearly four months.

But maybe I was asking too much of him. I was so unhappy with the rest of my life that I had hoped Gus would be my savior. Someone to take care of me, someone to whom I could hand over my life and say "Here, fix this."

I wanted it all.

Relax, I advised myself, as I tried to catch the bartender's eye, enjoy yourself. At least you're with him. Didn't he show up? And he's still the same witty, entertaining person he always was. So what more do you want?

I came back to the table, loaded down with drinks and renewed hope.

"Good on you, Lucy," said Gus, and fell on the drinks, like a starving man to food.

Shortly after that he announced, "I'll have another drink."

Almost as an afterthought he added, "And you're buying."

Something slipped from a shelf inside me and went crashing to the floor.

I was not a charity. At least, not anymore.

"Oh really," I said, unable to hide my anger. "Since when have they started accepting fresh air as legal tender?" 534 / marian keyes

"What are you talking about?" he asked, looking at me warily. There was something unfamiliar about me.

"Gus," I said, with grim delight. "I don't have any money left." That wasn't quite true. I had enough left to get me home and even to buy a bag of chips on the way, but I wasn't telling him that. He'd wheedle it out of me if he knew.

"You're a terrible woman," he laughed, "trying to scare me like that."

"I'm serious."

"Go on out of that," he joshed. "You've got one of those magic little cards that gives you money from the hole-in-the-wall."

"Yes, but..."

"Well, what are you waiting for--off with you, Lucy, there's no time to waste. Run down and get the loot and I'll wait here and watch our seats."

"What about you, Gus?"

"Well, I suppose I could manage another pint while you're gone, thanks very much."

"No, I mean, don't you have a cash card, Gus?"

"Me?" he yelled and laughed and laughed. "Are you serious?" He laughed and laughed again, and then made a face to convey that he thought I'd gone crazy.

I sat in silence, waiting for him to finish.

"No, Lucy." He cleared his throat and finally calmed down, but his mouth kept twitching. "No, Lucy, I don't."

"Well, neither do I, Gus."

"I know you do," he scoffed. "I've seen you use it."

"I don't have it anymore."

"Give me a break...."

"Really, Gus."

"Well, why don't you?" lucy sullivan is getting married / 535

"It was swallowed. Because I didn't have any money in my account."

"Didn't you?" He sounded stunned.

I'll show him, I thought with satisfaction. Then I felt ashamed. It wasn't right to take it out on Gus just because I was annoyed with Dad.

I suddenly felt that I wanted to tell Gus all about it, to explain why I was in such a bad mood. I wanted understanding and forgiveness, sympathy and affection. So, without further ado, I launched into the whole saga about living with Dad and having to give him money and having none left for me and...