If I Never Met You(45)
‘Right so, here’s your resolve stiffener,’ Jamie said, and motioned to the waitress who had appeared by them, holding a martini out for Laurie.
Laurie had never been ordered for in her life.
‘Sorry, you drink martinis? It’s vodka, dirty, olives,’ Jamie said, seeing her expression.
Who did he think he was, some ASDA Whoops! aisle James Bond?
‘Yes,’ Laurie said, wondering if she should’ve said no, show me the cocktail menu please, on principle. Who ordered drinks for people? Was she a gangster’s moll already?
Compromised, that’s what she was. She’d confided in one man that another man had damaged her.
Laurie sipped it gingerly, recoiling slightly at its salt and strength, as well as the feeling of being taken for granted. Her lips numbed.
‘It’ll be a little easier to play-act this picture if not stone-cold sober,’ Jamie said.
‘What have you got in mind? Is it going to be posed like Charles and Diana’s engagement photo?’ Laurie said as she sipped again.
‘Haha. Whatever love means,’ he quoted, ‘My kind of guy.’ Laurie was quite impressed at him knowing that given he was only thirty-one, though she didn’t say so.
Her phone vibrated with a message and she pulled it out of her bag. Jamie. Uh?
The bartender is a trainee and my drink took a lifetime to make! Shall I order for you? Is a martini OK? Tell you what, I’ll get you that and then if you don’t have it, I will. Jx
‘Oh. Just got your message!’ she said, glancing up from the screen, guiltily. ‘Bloody EE coverage.’
‘Hah. No worries.’
Assuming had made an ass of Laurie, he was being thoughtful. And it occurred to her that if he’d got her something full of passionfruit juice and Malibu, she’d have objected that, in fact, she was the kind of woman who liked proper navy strength drinks. 0/5 to the romantically scalded, grumpy Laurie Watkinson.
‘OK, so, time for a little game theory, as those Twitter analysts of American politics like to say,’ Jamie said, and Laurie smiled into her third sip. Dammit, it was so violent, and yet so drinkable.
‘The impression we want to give with this photo is not: “Here we are getting heavy, guys!” It’s far more of a “question mark” kind of thing than that, for our debut. It’s a “here’s an outtake from what was obviously a very good evening, draw your own conclusions.” Essentially, we want to spark a guessing game. Appeal to the part of the brain that lights up during an Agatha Christie.’
‘Yes … I suppose so?’ Laurie said, hesitantly. She was allowing herself to wonder, at last, exactly how febrile the guessing game might be over this, and she didn’t much like the answer. She was trying to bottle lightning, without much of a bottle.
‘What were you thinking?’ Jamie said, eyebrows drawing together. Typical lawyer. Turning the tables on her attitude: have you got any better ideas? Well then.
‘I had no idea. Go on.’
‘I’m also thinking we want to get our photo early so you can get away and have your real Saturday night.’
Hah, he meant his, but she appreciated the good manners.
‘I thought I could post the photo tomorrow morning, and tag you. Then you’ve perhaps not fully intended everyone you’re friends with to see it, but: “Oh no! Everyone sees it.” Including your ex. Are you set up to show tagged photos?’
‘I think so …?’
‘The way it works is you have to opt out. So if you haven’t, it’ll be there.’
Laurie nodded. He was so much younger than her. So much. This was campaign strategy.
‘You’re on Instagram?’ Jamie said.
‘Ah. No.’
‘DOH. We need you to be on Instagram. Let’s set up an account and we’ll do it linked to Facebook, so that you draw lots of contacts from there over to Instagram. If we leave it public then your ex only needs to know it’s there, and he’ll be likely to check it.’
Laurie thought: huh. She’d given up the ‘predicting Dan’ game.
‘Do you have something handy in your photos on your phone you can sling on as an Instagram profile picture?’ Jamie said.
‘Uh …’ Laurie chewed her lip and opened her iPhone.
‘Actually, do you know what,’ Jamie said, giving her an appraising look. ‘Let’s leave you off Instagram, for now. Launching one tonight looks suspicious. You can appear on mine.’
‘OK. What’s your Instagram like?’
Jamie tapped at his phone and handed it over.
Laurie peered at the black and white profile photo, Jamie laughing at some unseen person, half in profile, looking predictably devastating. She read his bio aloud – ‘Call me when you realise none of this matters’ – and burst out laughing.
She glanced up at Jamie and to her surprise, he blushed. He’d seemed unembarrassable, and her opinion shouldn’t matter. Although that might still be true, the two things weren’t that closely linked.
‘Alright, it’s only humour, you snipe.’
He screwed his face up in a mock sulk which could’ve been nauseating, but his boyish charm carried it clear out of nause and right into almost cute. Laurie could see why lesser women than herself succumbed so easily.