Queenie(27)

“So you went on a date with your colleague?” Kyazike asked. “Who told you that was a good idea?”

“No, it just was a drink,” I said, burying my face into the cup. “Just a nice drink with a colleague.”

“Is he single?” Cassandra asked. “If he’s single and thinks that you’re single, it was a date.”

“He didn’t do the girlfriend drop, so I’m guessing he’s single?” I shrugged. “Not that your theory is right.”

“What’s the girlfriend drop?” Darcy always needed to be clued in on these things.

“It’s when a guy, even if he’s the one who approached you to, say, ask what the time is, needs you to know that he’s attached,” Cassandra explained, rolling her eyes. “Like last week, I was in a café, and there was a guy at the table next to mine who had a smear of ketchup on his face. I was so distracted by it that I kept looking over and staring, wondering how acceptable it was to go and wipe it off. He eventually turned to me and said, ‘Cool laptop. My girlfriend has the same one.’ It’s their way of telling themselves that, a) they’re irresistible to women, and b) they’re in control of all of their interactions.”

“Do you think Tom has stopped doing the girlfriend drop?” I asked.

“Have you even heard from him?” Kyazike asked.

“Huh?” I lifted the cup to my mouth. “No.” I swallowed down my drink and my sadness. “All fine, though,” I said, “good to maintain the space from each other.”

“He should be begging you to come back by now, fam,” Kyazike said, shaking her head.

I looked up at the sky even though the fireworks hadn’t started, willing the tears that were brimming to go back in my eyes.

“Are you sure you don’t want some, Queenie?” I was suddenly wrenched out of my thoughts, which were switching between wondering what Tom was doing and guilt for going for what ended up being a noncolleague drink with Ted and feeling a bit like I wanted to throw myself at him and let him do whatever he wanted to my body.

“No thanks, Cassandra, I’ve had wine. Plus, I’ve already got heartburn,” I said, refusing the Prosecco. Kyazike took it from Cassandra, wiping the mouth of the bottle with her sleeve before she put it to her lips.

“Is this champers? Don’t taste like it,” she said after taking two big gulps.

“It’s Prosecco, champagne’s Italian cousin!” Darcy said. “Could I have one last sip?”

“Ha. Thanks for the education. You can have more than one sip, there’s loads.” Kyazike handed the bottle over to Darcy.

The fireworks started, and we all watched in silence. I looked at my three friends, the lights exploding in the sky and illuminating their beautiful faces. They all represented a different part of my life, had all come to me at different times; why they’d all stuck with me, I was constantly trying to work out.

“Queenie, I can see you staring at us and smiling. Stop being a creep,” Cassandra whispered.





chapter


SIX


I SCROLLED TUMBLR for articles about the most recent protest in America, reading long-form pieces from eyewitnesses that were broken up by pictures of black men and women being surrounded by police in riot gear or having milk poured on their faces to numb the sting of tear gas. The next article showed a video of a young black man called Rashan Charles being choked in an East London shop by an undercover police officer. I attached the two articles to a pitch I’d painstakingly composed for Gina titled “Racial tension: U.S. or us?” From the corner of my eye I saw someone coming over, so minimized the browser. When I looked up from my screen, Darcy was staring at me with a grin so wide that her face was split in two.

“What? What could possibly be making you smile so much on a Monday morning?” I asked her. My eyes were barely open.

“Wait until you see the new intern,” Darcy whispered. “He’s American.”

“Why is that a plus point? Are you saying that like it’s a good thing? They’re all bonkers. Do we know if he voted for Trump?” I asked as the new intern strode past in a confident American way. He was very tall, and his hair was brown. There wasn’t much to note beyond that.

“You see? Don’t you think he’s classically handsome?” Darcy said, smiling again.

“He’s fine?” I said, turning back to my screen.

“He’s called Chuck, and I picked him because I thought he’d be a good, healthy distraction. He’s almost too young for you to fancy him, but not too young to look at,” Darcy whispered. “And just look at. Remember what I said about Ted, and dipping your nib in the office ink.”

I spun my chair to face her. “Isn’t that illegal?” I asked. Surely that broke some sort of duty-of-care best practice.

“No, and besides, it’s not like we’re hiring him for a proper job. Plus, he’s twenty-two. Legal.” Is this what it has come to?

“Tea?” Darcy held up her empty mug.

“I’ll meet you in the kitchen, I’m just sending Gina an e-mail,” I said.

“Oh, finally back in the swing of work? Good to see,” Darcy said, and turned to walk away. She wasn’t good at disguising her tone of condescension, or she just couldn’t be bothered to.