The Drought (The hilarious laugh-out loud comedy about dating disasters!) (16 page)

“
Excuse me,
Don,” Shaila said from behind me. I looked up at her and wiped away
the tears of laughter from my eyes, trying to compose
myself.

“
Shaila, how
are you?” I asked. For the last three months I had tried everything
to break the ice with this girl. The flirtatious emails I had sent
to her during lunchtime had not warranted any response. Any attempt
at banter at the water cooler had gone down like a lead balloon. I
had even poked her a few times on Facebook. But nothing worked. It
was ironic that someone so hot could be such an ice
queen.

“
Dick needs
your monthly report by 4pm today,” Shaila said completely ignoring
my enquiry into her well-being.

“
No problemo.
I’m all over it. You can count on me. Call me Mr Reliable.” Shaila
merely stared at me as I continued with my verbal diarrhoea. “I
always deliver. That’s why they refer to me as the Milkman. Because
I deliver. Not milk obviously, but things like this.”

“
If you could
just bring it over to my desk at 4pm, that would be great,” Shaila
finally interrupted me. “Thanks Don,” she half-smiled and walked
away.

“
That was too
smooth for words,” Kelly mocked me.

“
What can I do
to get her to notice me?” I asked still staring at Shaila. “She is
amazing. I think I’m in love.”

“
Get a grip on
yourself,
Don,
”
Kelly said smiling and threw a pencil at me that bounced off the
top of my head, and snapped me back into reality. “It’s your turn
to pick a dare.”

For the next
hour we performed all manners of immature and playground pranks to
amuse ourselves. This included me walking around the office with my
zip open and telling anyone who pointed it out, “Sorry, I prefer it
this way
.”
And
whenever anyone in the office asked me to do something I had to ask
if they “wanted fries with that.”

Kelly now had
to say “
Mon
”
after every sentence in a really
bad Jamaican accent, and when Dick came over to our desk she had to
shoot him with double-barrelled fingers and say
“
I like your style”
.
The funniest part was when he
thanked her and spent the next 15 minutes explaining his
inspiration behind his look. Apparently he was going for a classic
1970’s influence fused with modern urban culture.

We were having
so much fun that 1pm arrived in record time. I knew it was lunch
because Pete Crowford was excitedly making his way to the door with
three colleagues from IT. He had received a call 15 minutes earlier
from a local Italian restaurant called
Giuseppe’s
who told him he had won a
lunch for four people. I knew this because I had made the call
myself as a dare. I had even booked a table for four in Pete’s name
at the restaurant so he wouldn’t realise it was a prank until he
was presented with the bill.

“
Shall we?” I
said to Kelly nodding after Pete and his IT gang.

“
I thought you
would never ask,” Kelly said grabbing her purse so we could follow
our victims and get a front row seat to watch our planned
humiliation in action.

“
We are so
bad,” Kelly said as we followed the happy foursome.

“
I know,” I
said. “Isn’t it great?”

Approaching Liverpool Street I
saw something that left me with knots in my stomach – Carla the
charity street worker. I had tried avoiding this part of town in
recent weeks purposely so as not to bump into her. Every time she
had seen me she had taken great delight in announcing to anyone
within earshot what a cheapskate and insensitive twat I was.

I tried putting my head down,
but it was too late. She had clocked me, and already had that look
on her face. “Let’s go this way?” I said to Kelly, diverting her in
a different direction.

“
Why, what’s
wrong?” Kelly asked. So I explained what had happened. How I had
tried asking Carla out and she had taken things completely the
wrong way. Carla had branded me as some sort of charity street pimp
who was buying her affection by donating money for poverty-stricken
children. I was a desperate Lothario who knew no boundaries in
trying to get a girl into bed. I was the lowest of the low. Even I
had to admit I was starting to side with Carla.

“
What are you
like?” Kelly said as we grabbed some chips from the fish and chip
shop, and sat on a bench opposite
Giuseppe’s
just in time to see Pete
and his IT pals take their seats and order some wine.

“
I don’t
know,” I said popping a chip into my mouth and then juggling it
around on my tongue as it was too hot. “I have just forgotten how
to talk to women.”

“
We’re not
aliens.”

“
I wouldn’t be
so sure,” I said as Kelly cuffed me round the back of the head.
“All I’m saying is that women work in a much more complicated way
than men.”

“
Please
explain, I’m intrigued,” Kelly said as we watched Pete and his
friend’s clink their glasses together as the waiter brought their
starters over.

“
Okay,” I
turned to face Kelly. “Men are not mind readers. If something is
wrong then you should just come out and tell us. It is not fair to
presume we don’t care because of our lack of mind-reading
abilities.”

“
Well maybe
you should try harder to understand,” Kelly said nicking one of my
chips. “We are complex creatures. Women speak indirectly and men
speak directly. If we were the same it would be boring.” Kelly
popped the chip in her mouth and wore an expression as to say she
had won the argument.

“
Not boring,
it would be
easier
,” I said matter-of-factly. “If women are complex creatures,
then men are simple creatures. Come out and ask what you want.
Subtle hints don’t work. Strong hints don’t work. Obvious hints
don’t work. Just say it!”

Kelly held her mouth wide open
in mock shock. As she started to speak I shovelled a chip into her
mouth to allow myself to continue talking.

“
We don’t work
in the commodity of hints – tips work with us. So if you have a tip
on the Grand National, we’re all ears.”

The main
courses were now being served to Pete and his team of
competition
winners.

“
We only give
you hints so when you
finally
work out what is wrong it makes you feel special
– like you worked it out all by yourself,” Kelly poked her tongue
out. “Most of the time, women already know the solution to their
problem, we just want you to show some compassion and not try to
solve it for us.”

“
You should
only come to us with a problem if you want help solving it. That's
what we do. Sympathy is what your girlfriends are for.”

Pete and his friends continued
to tuck into their plates of pasta, and ordered a second bottle of
wine to go with their meal.

“
We agree on
that,” Kelly said. “After all, there is only so much sympathy you
can get out of a man
while he is playing
on his computer and constantly rearranging his man
bits.”

“
If it itches,
it will be scratched. That’s what we do.”

Kelly laughed. “I am going to
have to start introducing you to people as squirrel then.”

“
And why is
that?”

“
Because I’ll
tell people you are always playing with your nuts!”

“
Thanks, that
should help me win over the girls,” I smiled and gave Kelly a
friendly nudge. Meanwhile, it looked like Pete and his friends were
finishing their meals.

“
Dan, I don’t
know where you have been going wrong but I wouldn’t worry about it
too much. You’re a nice guy. You just need to be yourself and stop
worrying too much about it.”

“
Maybe you’re
right,” I said, watching as Pete was now in a conversation with the
waiter who had brought him the bill.

“
Of course I’m
right; I’m a woman. We’re always right, remember?” Kelly winked at
me. The conversation Pete was having with the waiter had got quite
heated and it looked as though the manager was now
involved.

“
I’ll put your
advice to the test next time then.”

“
No time like
the present.”

“
What do you
mean?” I asked. By now Pete had gone all red and flustered as he
argued his point over the bill, while the manager was waving his
finger in his face.

“
Go back over
to that girl and ask her out again,” Kelly pointed at Carla. “But
this time be yourself.”

“
Are you out
of your mind?” I said. “She hates me.”

“
She doesn’t
even know you. Just try. What is the worst thing that could
happen?”

The sirens
grew louder as they approached from the distance, and within
seconds a police van screeched to a halt outside
Giuseppe’s.
Two burly
police officers got out and entered the restaurant.

“
I could end
up making a fool of myself. Again!” I told Kelly.

“
I dare you to
go over and ask her out. We are still playing the game, aren’t
we?”

I looked over at Carla and
thought for a second. Maybe Kelly was right, but I didn’t want to
walk straight into another embarrassing situation. My attention
swung back to the restaurant as I heard a commotion. The two
officers now had Pete in handcuffs and were marching him towards
the van.

“
But I am a
competition winner!” he squealed as they tried to usher him into
the van. Suddenly he looked up and saw us sitting on the bench
across the street. “Hilles! You bastard! This is your doing, isn’t
it?”

“
Hey, at least
you are not Pete,” Kelly said finishing her chips and throwing the
wrapper in the bin next to the bench. “What have you really got to
lose?”

I looked over and waved at Pete
as he was finally bundled into the back of the police van. They
slammed the doors shut and I watched as the flashing sirens
disappeared into the lunchtime traffic.

“
You’re
right,” I finally said. “I’m going to do it.”

“
Just be
yourself,” Kelly advised as I took a deep breath and started my way
over towards Carla.

“
Hi,” I said
as I reached her.

“
Oh, it’s
you,” Carla didn’t even try to hide her disgust. “What do you
want?”

“
I just wanted
to come over and apologise, for last time I mean. I have the
tendency to say stupid things when I get nervous,” I told her and
she gave me a curious look. “I just wanted to say hello, not bribe
you, or blackmail you. Just hello.”

She stared at me for a while
longer as if she was examining my expression. “Just hello?”

“
And maybe
coffee sometime? I just want to talk and maybe get to know
you.”

She gave me another look, her
eyes narrowed as though she wasn’t too sure if she should believe
me or not. “What if I said yes, will you sign up for the
charity?”

“
Now who is
blackmailing who?” I said with a smile.

Carla lowered her clipboard as
though she was letting her guard down, and smiled back at me. “But
if you don’t sign up how will I get your phone number?”

I took her clipboard off her
and wrote my name and number down on the piece of paper and handed
it back to her.

“
Thanks...”
she looked at the clipboard, “Dan.”

“
I need to get
back to the office, but maybe you’ll give me a call
sometime?”

“
Sure,” she
said twisting a lock of hair around her finger. I said goodbye and
as I walked away she called out to me. “How about tomorrow
afternoon? If you really want to get to know me then perhaps you
can come help me out tomorrow?”

“
Sounds good,”
I told her. “Text me where and when and I’ll be there.”

I made my way back over to
Kelly, keeping a straight face trying not to give anything
away.

“
Well?” she
asked.

“
Oh that,” I
said nonchalantly. “It’s in the bag, there was never any doubt, was
there?”

“
Shut up,”
Kelly said punching me in the arm. “I never doubted you for a
second, Romeo. So when are you meeting her?”

“
Tomorrow
afternoon.”

“
And where are
you going?”

“
No idea. She
is texting me later with the details, I think.”

“
That’s brave
of you.”

“
I’m just that
type of guy, Kelly,” my tone suddenly taking on a newfound air of
confidence.

“
Oh please,”
Kelly said, punching me in the arm for a second time. I pretended
it didn’t hurt.

“
Come on,” I
said. “We’d better get back to the office and let Dick know that
Pete might be on an extended lunch break.”

Chapter 11:
Up in Smoke

Saturday, March 28, 2009 -
11.15am

Drought Clock: 86 days, 1 hour,
12 minutes

Meet me at 1pm outside Charing
Cross station. We’re going to Trafalgar Square. Carla xx