‘Friends with penises’ cried Eileen, waving lasciviously with both hands while sashay-dancing the carpet towards them.
There was no denying it, she looked absolutely stunning. Her freckles were offset by hair shining like newly-shucked conkers, gathered into a casual pony-tail and extending halfway down her back. Except no one was staring at her back. Not with the way her front strained against the sleeveless powder blue T shirt. Neither bloke could be blamed for the appreciation splashed across their faces as they were magnetised the length of the living space and into the direct orbit of the petite siren.
Eileen flicked a brief hello at Roddy but wrapped herself in the arms of Ben, hugging him with the vigour of someone double her size. Finally releasing the embrace she instructed them all to sit down, trotted to the stereo and cranked up some Black Box.
‘Finally trying to improve your music collection?’ taunted Margo from the kitchen area.
The latest arrivals were taking the sofa and an armchair respectively as Eileen responded with a grin and two fingers. Without a second’s pause she launched herself through the air and landed slap-bang in Ben’s lap.
Despite the childish ditty still echoing in Margo’s head, observing this hardly came as a surprise. Many a time she and Charlie had cause to chide their firebrand of a friend for trifling with the wrong man. That’s to say, someone different to who she’d just stated she intended to hook. Not to mention her habit of proceeding to reel in somebody who she knew one of the others fancied. So the sight of Eileen perched cutely on the knees of Ben, arm around his shoulders and laughing uproariously at his jokes while all but ignoring the one who, minutes earlier, she’d claimed as her own was ringing all the usual bells.
As for Roddy, it appeared confusion rather than jealousy reigned. Knowing Eileen, it was probable she’d given him all manner of come-ons prior to confronting him with this exhibition.
Three quarters of an hour later, with the booze brought by the boys cracked and given a scare, she decided to go and check on Eileen having watched her pad wordlessly from the living area a short while before.
Turning into the bedroom, Margo’s worst fears were instantly realised. Only a torso and a pair of legs could be seen. Presumably the girlfriend was pulling her trick of sleeping it off by sticking her head under the mound of bolsters and cushions which customarily buried the top half of her bed.
Slapping a foot lightly brought no response so Margo went to tug at it. Her own reactions were dulled by alcohol, though happily fast enough to avoid copping a sharp kick from the second.
Moving around to the top of the bed she began to excavate.
‘Eileen. Eileen duck.’
Removing the final pillow, she could make out a beaming face.
‘What’s happenin?’
‘You’re totally puddled me dear, that’s what’s happening.’
‘Oh Margo. Dearest Margo. Having a rest here for a wee moment.’
‘Come on Cinderella. Time to get up and return to the ball.’
Eileen’s eyes flickered open.
‘Ooh, that’s bright.’
‘You feeling badly?’
‘Just not hundred per cent sure which way’s up right now.’
‘Want us to go mash a tea for you?’
‘Lord no. Let me have a wee bit of a nap and I’ll be right as rain.’
‘And what exactly d’you want me to do with your two fellers out there in the meantime?’
‘I’m sure a woman of your talents will be able to come up with something.’
Eileen suddenly reached out and pinned one of her arms.
‘But not Roddy. He’s mine remember?’
‘Err. That’d be the same Roddy what you’ve been ignoring all night while practically draping your ovaries around Ben’s neck?’
‘I’m so sorry Margo, I didn’t mean to rain on your parade. Have I? Let me make it up to you, beautiful Margo of mine.’
And with that Eileen pulled her downwards and tried to kiss her.
‘Gerroff me, you daft nesh. You’re totally scrambled.’
The red-head swung instantly from amorous to contrite.
‘Oh I’m sorry. I just thought …’
‘Yeh and it’s your “just thinking” what got us into this fine mess. Rayt, show must go on and all that. One of us has to be next door. And at present time the odds ʼave reduced on that person being me, so you snuggle under a while and I’ll talk to you soon alright?’
Already the voice cocooned beneath the folded eiderdown was fainter.
‘Not Roddy. Not Roddy. He’s mine …’
Margo drew the curtains and flicked off the main light before standing, staring down for a short time. There being no further entreaties she withdrew, pulling the door quietly behind.
On her return she could spot only one other. And he seemed somewhat awkward.
‘Where’s Roddy at then?’
‘Gone.’
‘What? Bailed?’
‘Yeh.’
‘Really?’
‘Hmm.’
‘Claimed something about having double booked. That he would’ve mentioned it if he’d had the chance. And that anyway he would’ve needed to leave straight after dinner. Apparently.’
To his credit, Ben looked embarrassed as he tailed off.
‘Shit. Dinner!’
‘Want me to grab it out of the oven?’
‘Ah that won’t be necessary.’
‘Okay.’
Silence.
‘You could give us a hand wiping it up mind.’
‘You what?’
‘Show you.’
Ben roared with laughter when near enough to spot the congealing remnants of the fricassée and instantly got stuck into helping her scoop handfuls into empty plastic bags they discovered under the sink. Only as they were almost finished did the conversation turn away from the task at hand.
‘So you’re a waitress?’
Margo’s face gave nothing away.
‘Eileen told me.’
‘She did, did she?’
Despite their best efforts at taming the wilder edges of Eileen’s imagination, their friend found it hilarious to lay little traps for people, and for Margo in particular it seemed. As a result Charlie would periodically remind Eileen, in general terms of course, that this form of self-amusement carried potential consequences. And whenever she then over-stepped the invisible mark, Margo herself would need to put the hard word on.
‘U-huh. Working as a waitress in a cocktail bar was the answer she gave me.’
|Been doing some homework on us have we Benjamin? Interesting|
Margo paused, waiting to see whether his face gave any flicker of recognition at the line he’d just quoted. Nothing. All the same, when she sobered up Eileen was going to take a pasting for divulging any details in the interests of pairing her off.
‘So do you see yourself waiting on tables forever?’
‘Why? You ʼave a problem with that?’
He was swift to smooth over the test she’d set, hence she moved on to the customary response.
‘Where you based yourself?’
‘City.’
‘Figures.’
She could tell he wasn’t sure if she was punning him. As she continued it piqued her curiosity that he presented considerably more confidently than his patter alone suggested.
‘From what Eileen said, either you work in finance or you’re some sort of speed freak.’
‘Huh?’
‘And you’re not exactly the type to be into amphetamines.’
‘Is that so?’
‘That is so.’
‘The amount of drugs floating around my place of work, I could lay my hands on a lot more than that if you wanted?’
‘Should be alright on that front ta.’
|At least this one isn’t making random shit up just to try and impress us|
Before anything could develop however a door was flung open and out stepped Eileen. More accurately perhaps, out swerved an approximate version of her. At first glance the resemblance was to a puppet dressed in a pastiche of a three-year-old’s favourite clothes. The lustrous red hair, heavily tousled, was stacked high with an assortment of coloured bobby-pins and scrunchies, while her make-up had apparently been re-applied by a peashooter gone rogue.
‘Par-tay!’ yelled the pocket-sized dervish, whirling across the floor.
Wisely Ben sidestepped, but Margo was practically bowled over as the rag doll careered into her arms. The momentum sent both spinning and only the support of the counter behind prevented them ending on the carpet like a pile of discarded dusters.
Sucking in air after her exertions, Eileen was laughing hysterically as she shouted a string of demands over the music.
‘Come on. More dancing. Drink something. Jack up the volume. Where’s Roddy?’
No response was forthcoming. There again, her delivery allowed precious little opportunity for one.
‘Where. Is. Roddy?’ boomed the follow-up.
Eileen had as good as become that three year-old, crashing around the lounge in a game of sleep-deprived hide-and-seek for her latest toy.
‘Ro-ddy? Ro-ddy?’ she called out in a desperate voice.
Ben caught Margo’s attention, waggling a quizzical index finger towards the front door. Through pursed lips she nodded yes, that would be best.
Aware that he’d left without creating a distraction, Margo thought it would be fun to go and assist the other girl lift cushions and peer down furniture cracks in an increasingly frantic search.
The following Monday, getting home from work, Margo had discovered a posy of flowers on her doorstep. For once Eileen’s peace offering had been accompanied by a note:
Sorry for that my darling, I might’ve had one scoop too many. Hopefully you two made the most while I was out of it. Ben was very insistent about meeting ye.
It was signed Your gobshite skank of a friend and there was a P.S. underneath:
Need any prawns? There’s shitloads stinking out my fridge.
At which point it had dawned on Margo that she hadn’t even had the chance to be given a phone number
|Another one waved off into never never land then?|
҉
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