Maame(32)

She’s using the frying pan I brought with me, which is a little annoying because it’s the only nonstick one in the cupboard and she never washes it straight after. I was planning to fry some fish for dinner, but that’s not going to happen now.

Jo turns away from the carrots she’s cutting. “Before I forget, I’m having a few friends round tomorrow night for drinks. Want to join?”

“Oh, I can’t. I … I have a date.”

Jo throws her hands up and squeals with excitement. It’s just unfortunate I’ve caught her mid-chopping session, and she’s yet to put the knife down because she now straddles the thin line between encouraging and threatening.

Cam’s door opens. “I heard screaming,” she says, rounding the corner in baggy shorts and a plain T-shirt. “Who’s getting murdered, and can they keep it down?” She clocks Jo’s knife and stops dead. “Oh, shit. Is someone getting murdered?”

“No! Maddie’s got a date!”

“Oh, cool,” Cam says, reaching for the kettle. “The Ben guy?”

I nod. “He called me this afternoon and invited me to dinner at his.” I decide to swap out the faceless mask of Google for actual three-dimensional people and ask, “Is that weird?”

“Yes,” Cam says.

“Not at all,” Jo says.

Cam raises her mug. “It was nice knowing you, Maddie.”

Jo swipes at Cam with her knife-free hand. “Shut up. Maddie, don’t listen to her. It’s impressive he’s given you his address!” she tells me. “What if he had plans to suddenly ghost you? If you wanted answers, you could just show up at his house and he knows that.” She narrows her eyes at Cam and says, “Maturity.”

Cam narrows her eyes back. “Murderer.”

“You’ve said ‘murder’ three times since stepping into this kitchen,” Jo remarks. “So you’re done. Maddie, just send me the address if you’re concerned and let him know that your flatmates know where you are.”

“But don’t tell him where we live,” Cam adds. “In case he comes here to finish the job.”

Jo tuts. “What’s his address?”

I forward it to her via WhatsApp.

“SW five,” she says. “Fancy!”

“It is?” I ask.

“Uh-huh. That’s a rich area for sure.”

“He works in investment banking and his dad is executive something and his grandad founded the company.”

“Don’t sign a prenup,” Cam says.

“Oh God.” I’m suddenly very hot in my jacket and peel it off. “I’m an editorial assistant who makes under sixteen hundred a month.”

“That’s probably a third of his rent.”

I bite my lip. “Maybe I shouldn’t go.”

“Maddie, don’t listen to Cam!” Jo says. “She’s just playing with you.”

“So you don’t think his rent exceeds my salary?”

Jo looks at Cam and then back at me. She puts the knife down. “Show us what you’re going to wear!”



* * *



Jo ends up picking my outfit. She isn’t too impressed with my wardrobe’s offerings, even when I show her my online-shopping section.

“Why do you cover up so much?” she asks. “Is it a religious thing?”

“No,” I answer, but then I think about it. “Maybe. I guess I did grow up being taught good girls don’t—”

“Have any fun,” Jo finishes.

“Said the serpent to Eve,” Cam says.

“Only support and encouragement in this room, please!”

Cam holds her hands up in surrender and throws herself on my bed. I’ve never had friends in my room before. I hope it smells okay and isn’t too messy.

Jo has me try on four different outfits (both she and Cam roll their eyes when I ask them to look away as I change into each one) before finally settling on a long-sleeved, black and khaki green skater dress that just about covers my bum. I bought it a year ago from a website that labeled it “the Sweet Mistress Dress” and it lives in my wardrobe only because I missed the returns date.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit short?” I ask.

“Yes,” Jo says, holding up my black boots. “So?”

“In the dress’s defense,” Cam says, “if your bum were smaller, it would be an inch longer.”

“I’m not a fan of these boots with the dress.” Jo holds the two together. “Are they really the only heels you have?”

I nod. “Maybe I should change the dress?”

Jo’s eyes light up. “Or…” She checks the soles of my boots. “Size six, yes! I have just the pair of boots!”

“You just said no to boots.”

“I said no to your boots. Wait here.”

Jo returns from her room with black suede thigh-high boots.

Cam whistles. “Make sure he pays you up front, Maddie.”

“That’s strike two,” Jo warns.

“I can’t wear those and this dress, Jo.”

“Why not?”

“Together … it’s…” I motion to the boots. “Sexy.”