If I Never Met You(47)
He turned the screen towards Laurie. The picture showed Jamie smiling up conspiratorially straight into the camera, all strong jawline and brow and a few dark curls on his forehead. Laurie was in profile, eyes tight shut in mirth, resting against his chest in a coquettish way. She could see he’d found a flattering angle where she looked … foxy? The cocktail hour dress was visible, Jamie’s shirt unbuttoned the right amount. It was the kind of poseur nonsense that vain people sent out on wedding invites.
The scene looked intimate and genuine, depicting the sort of pleasure in each other’s company you can’t fake. Except, you clearly could.
‘That’s like some Harry and Meghan official photos level lenswork,’ Jamie said, satisfied, flipping expertly through the filter options. ‘Monochrome feels a little too studied. Let’s go with a nice Mayfair.’
‘Is Meghan your one handy mixed race girl reference?’ Laurie said, taking the cocktail stick out of her fat olives and putting it in the corner of her mouth, grinning.
‘You’re a waspish character at times, aren’t you?’ Jamie said, but reasonably warmly. ‘Should I … is mixed race the right term nowadays?’
‘Doesn’t bother me if it’s not meant badly is the official one for Government forms, but no one really uses that. The one Dual heritage hated as a kid was half caste.’
‘Ugh. Yes. All noted.’
The sort of sharpness that works in court but not in a marriage. Laurie cringed. Though that was typical Claire, suggesting being good at her job made her a bad partner.
‘I was kidding, sorry!’ Laurie amended. ‘The name Megan comes with a trigger warning for me.’
‘Ah God, sorry, yeah.’
The killer portrait achieved, it let the air out of the balloon somewhat. Chat now felt stilted, while Laurie tried to second guess how much Jamie wanted to be gone and, she suspected, Jamie laboured to conceal he wanted to be gone.
Laurie felt considerable relief when a shimmering vision of Emily in salmon satin squealed: ‘Laurie! What are you doing here?!’ and swooped in for a media person double air kiss.
‘Oh, Emily this is Jamie, from work. Jamie, Emily,’ Laurie said, ‘We’re out for a drink.’
Right,’ Emily said, hand on slinky hip, looking from one to the other and, Laurie thought, doing a good job of appearing to take this in, in real time.
‘I’m with Suzanne from work and a few others, you know Suzanne?’ and Laurie said ‘Yep’ and made a covert UGH face. Emily laughed and so did Jamie.
After a few minutes of Getting To Know Yous, Emily’s diminutive, shinily clad behind perching on the end of their banquette, she excused herself to her companions and said, ‘Really nice to meet you,’ extending a hand to Jamie.
If Laurie had thought about it prior, she’d have predicted that Jamie and Emily meeting would be fireworks and chemistry and delightedly trading the kind of romcom barbs that end with them in the sack. They had a lot of similarities in disposition, and were both knockouts. If Jamie Carter had ever said ‘Set me up with a friend of yours,’ Laurie would’ve without second thought provided Emily’s number and said thank me later.
She didn’t sense much static crackle, but perhaps that was heavy expectation in a ten-minute encounter when Jamie was notionally on a date with her best friend. In fact, she felt Jamie was uncharacteristically subdued.
‘Let’s go,’ Laurie said, under her breath to Jamie, after Emily departed, ‘I’m not having the Suzanne experience twice.’
Laurie waved across the room to Emily, and Emily, leaning in to check Jamie wasn’t looking, made a forefinger to thumb circle. Suzanne boggled. Hah, have that.
As much as she’d enjoyed moonlighting as Pennines Beyoncé, she couldn’t wait to take the bra, Spanx and the heels off. Glamour was agony.
Outside, Jamie handed her into her Uber, reiterating his intentions regards their photo. ‘Essentially a did they or didn’t they tease. And an are they or aren’t they. No smut, obviously.’
As he leaned down to close the door, he said, ‘can’t believe you did a girl buddy “safety check-in” set-up on me, by the way.’
Ouch.
‘I didn’t! Pure coincidence,’ Laurie said, but she knew she looked guilty.
‘Hah. Don’t bullshit the bullshitter, Watkinson,’ he said, and slammed the door before she could protest further.
Laurie was uncomfortable, as nightscape Manchester flew past the car window, and now in more than one way. If that set-up had been so obvious to Jamie, what else might she misjudge?
She feared Emily’s prediction, that lying had unforeseen complications, was already coming true.
19
You Were Tagged In A Photo By Jamie Carter.
Through her blurred senses, Laurie squinted at her handset. They’d gone live, hence the confetti of notifications. She opened Facebook and saw Jamie had captioned it:
Great night @Laurie. Though not sure if I should be thanking you or hating you for this hangover
With morning bedhead, in an old T-shirt and with a light cranial throbbing from the martinis, Laurie appreciated the staged glamour of the picture all the more. They did look like a pair of celebrities, of their own invention. Jamie’s post production tinkering had given it a sheen, an Oscars after party atmosphere. Laurie didn’t really look like that creature who was standing in for her, she wasn’t living that life. But what mattered was everyone else thought she was. One big game of bluff.