Page 55 of Two to Tango

‘There’s really nothing happening?’ Madge asks.

‘No. Like I said, the sooner this whole thing is done, the better.’

Kit and Drew make their way over with their hands full of drinks for the five of us – Marty is out of town on business, and Becky and Edmond will be joining us after service at the restaurant has finished. They nudge past a few small groups of people standing around the dingy bar. It’s the type of place that fills with sports fans on Saturdays and Sundays. A place we can wear jeans and hear each other speak. Plus, there’s a karaoke bar on the basement floor and when she’s had enough wine, Sarah likes to get in on that action.

Kit sets down a club soda and a bottle of beer in front of me, then steps back, holding out his hands as if to ask,What did I do?

‘Just in case the soda gets dull,’ he says.

‘Don’t tempt me, man. This whole thing has got me wanting beer more than ever.’

‘And by “whole thing”, he means Izzy,’ Sarah says, winking at me as she leans forward to take a handful of Bombay mix from a ramekin.

‘Is this going to go on all night?’ I ask, sipping my club soda and leaning into the high-back stool.

‘We’ve all seen the pictures, Brooks,’ Kit adds.

‘Whose side are you on, man?’

‘His wife’s,’ Madge says definitively, finishing with a swig of white wine for added effect.

‘Sorry, Brooks, but she controls my balls.’

‘Yeah, I can see that.’

‘Hate to get in on this but those rumba photographs looked like pretty damning evidence to me,’ Drew adds.

I shake my head because I can’t fight all four of them.

‘Ah, screw it.’ I reach out for the bottle of beer. Before it reaches my lips, a familiar and unwelcome voice comes from over my shoulder.

‘Put that down right now, Brooks Adams.’

I put the bottle down and drop my face into my hands, wondering whether I’m starting to hear her voice or whether the demon really is on my shoulder.

‘Izzy, we’re so glad you could make it,’ Madge says.

‘Are we?’ I ask from behind my hands.

‘Give Izzy your stool, Brooks. You can get another one.’

I raise my head to Sarah and she giggles when I give her a look that says,Are you joking me?

She’s infiltrated my friends. Myfriends. I met this woman less than two weeks ago and she’s turned my life upside down.

As the women start talking bags and shoes and giving out compliments like it’s Christmas, I get up from my stool, not looking at Izzy. I won’t spoil the get-together because she has turned up and her very presence ticks me off.

There isn’t a spare stool in the bar so I head back to the barrel-cum-table empty handed. Since she’s now in conversation with Drew, I see no harm in finally looking at Izzy. Her blonde hair is down, not in her usual ponytail. As she talks, she pulls it across one shoulder. The ends fall down her chest and between her breasts, exposed by the scoop neck of the expensive-looking, pearlescent tee she’s wearing with her jeans. She crosses her legs, and I get a look at her new Prada heels. I quite like those shoes – for very different reasons from Madge and Sarah.

How could she ever have doubted whether she was slim enough or pretty enough at school?

I start talking sports with the guys, and a group of men next to us join in as we talk football, somehow transitioning to Formula One. When it’s my round, I bring a tray of drinks back to the barrels. As I hand Izzy a club soda, I meet her eye for the first time. Her expression is cold. Heartless. The Izzy I met on the first day at the gym. She doesn’t even say thank you.

I lean against the barrel and continue the sports chat, but my mind is not on the conversation and my gaze keeps flicking – without my say-so – to Izzy. More than once, I catch her looking back at me, wearing a scowl.

By the time Becky and Edmond come into the bar, the others are already merrily on their fourth or fifth alcoholic drinks. I wish I were too, because the way Izzy’s ignoring me is starting to drive me crazy. Part of me wishes I could go back to that shower and finish the job.

As we move downstairs to the karaoke bar, something seems to light up in Izzy. I watch as she excitedly discusses with Sarah what Sarah should sing, walking behind her as she descends the steps, ready to catch her in case she trips in those fuck-me heels. With the aid of the stair rail, she makes it safely down to the concrete shell, where the karaoke is already in full swing.

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