Alphabet Weekends - Elizabeth Noble [81]
Number six was talking to her in a thick Brummie accent and she had to turn to him, but afterwards she couldn’t have told you a single word of their stilted three-minute conversation.
‘Is she looking?’ The girl’s voice was full of giggles.
Tom bet she’d be a lot of fun to go out with. ‘Think so. She definitely saw me come and sit down here. Listen, Eve, thanks a million for doing this – I appreciate it more than you know.’
‘It’s no problem. How could I resist after the story you told me at the party? So cute! I’m a sucker for a love story and I’ve been meaning to come back and visit my folks for months now. Good excuse.’
‘Well, it’s brilliant of you.’
‘Actually, I’ve been trying out some different characters – I’ve been Welsh, very Catherine Zeta Jones, and Irish, and I’m going to try my South African on the next guy. I’ve got an audition coming up in a few weeks for something shooting in Cape Town, which I’d love to get.’
Eve, like every third waitress in London, was an aspiring actress. And now, it appeared, Tom was an aspiring con-artist. They had talked, a lot, at the bar at the party. And he’d loved Natalie watching them, and he’d loved even more how apparently pissed off she was with him afterwards. And when Eve had said she had family around here and that she must get home and visit… He’d been dazzled by how quickly his fiendish plan had fallen into place.
And it was working perfectly. Natalie had looked like a guppy when she’d seen her, blowing bubbles of indignation into the room. Fantastic!
‘So, Tom, let’s check. I’m supposed to say that I’m interested in hooking up with you?’ He nodded. ‘And you’ll say the same. So they’ll pass on our details to each of us?’
‘That’ll be great.’
‘No problem. It’s been a laugh. Will you let me know if it works?’
‘Of course. If you’re not filming in South Africa.’
Only about a minute left. Tom felt sorry for Natalie’s bloke. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her craning her neck to watch him and Eve, almost completely ignoring the poor sod.
‘Big finish, then!’ Eve was saying. And she leant across the table, her T-shirt cut so low that the top of her pretty pink bra was clearly visible, and kissed his cheek, lingeringly, her fingers on the other side of his face. As she drew back, she smiled suggestively and whispered, ‘Are you allowed to put down two names? I saw a guy about three blokes back who works out. It’s a look I really go for, no offence. And I think he liked me too – he said I reminded him of Mariah Carey.’
‘Four! And one of them is you.’
‘See? I told you it’d be good.’
‘Four isn’t good. Every one of those blokes would have been lucky to get the time of day from me.’
‘Nice to see your self-esteem back to full strength.’
‘I don’t mean it like that.’
‘You didn’t mean to sound quite so conceited, I take it?’
Tom was laughing at her. He knew exactly what she meant. Surely. ‘They were dweebs, Tom. Dweebs who aren’t interested in me!’ Her indignation made her voice squeaky.
‘Maybe you just weren’t dweeby enough for them.’
‘Maybe this was a bad idea. What about you?’
Tom didn’t want to tell her that he had five. It didn’t seem like a smart move. He hastily balled up two of the small cards in one hand. ‘Just three. Two, really, since you don’t count. But thanks anyway.’
‘Huh. And I suppose I know who one of them came from. What on earth was she doing here anyway?’
‘Do you mean Eve?’
‘Oh, sorry. Eve. Yes, I mean Eve. I didn’t know her name, since we’ve never been introduced.’
‘That’s a whole other evening of speed-dating you’re thinking of…’
‘You haven’t answered my question.’
‘Her family live around here.’
‘And?’
‘And what?’
‘And she just happened to be here tonight because it’s so hard for a girl who looks like her to get a date in London? Did I blink