Page 71 of Rafferty's Rules
‘That’s very kind, thank you.’ I shake my head. ‘But I’m actually waiting for my boyfriend.’ Myfakeboyfriend. My fake boyfriend with whom I’m having mind-blowing sex.
‘Can I buy you a drink while you’re waiting for your boyfriend?’
‘I’m not so sure that would be a good idea.’
Actually, I’m not sure if Rafferty would mind or not. As per Rafferty’s Rules of our fake relationship with very real sex, we’re exclusive, but I don’t think that extends to keeping platonic company. On second thought, I wouldn’t like to walk into a bar to meet Rafferty only to find him drinking, no matter how platonic, with a good-looking woman. Because he is, my would-be drink buyer, good looking. The kind of boy-next-door-grew-up good looking. Dark hair and a friendly smile. He even has a dimple in his cheek.But he’s not Rafferty.
‘You’re sure?’
‘Yes, thank you. But enjoy your evening,’ I reply over my shoulder, already walking away.
Back inside, Charlie’s lips are pressed so tightly together he looks ready to explode. ‘What’s up?’
‘I thought you were going to keep me company,’ he answers shortly.
‘I... just went to the bathroom?’ My answer is accompanied by a short, confused shrug.
‘And to chat up blokes,’ he mutters, wiping a glass with a white cloth aggressively.
‘I think you’ll find he was chatting me up,’ I retort, clambering back into my seat.Short girl problems strike once again.
‘I told you, you wouldn’t have to pay for your drinks, I just didn’t think you’d be into that type.’
‘What type?’ Solvent and clean? ‘And do you see a drink?’ I add, kind of snittly. ‘I guess I’m just not that kind of girl.’
‘Everyone’s that kind of girl,’ says a tall redhead to my right, who Charlie appears to be serving. ‘When there’s a free drink on offer, I mean.’ As I look at her askance, she adds quickly, ‘Just for a drink. Nothing else.’
‘But doesn’t it lead to blurred lines and expectations?’ I ask, genuinely curious as I cross my legs at the ankle.And aren’t these the kinds of questions we usually ask in the privacy of the ladies room?
‘Love,’ says another voice to my left, ‘when you get to my age you realise there’s no such thing in life as a free cocktail.’ The woman to my left is either thirty-five or one of those women who are very well preserved. ‘If a man buys you a drink, it’s because he expects something from you. Sometimes it’s just a conversation, sometimes it’s something else.’
‘Sing it, sister,’ responds a woman to her left.
‘And if you get free entry to a club or cut-price drinks, you can only expect to be weighed up and touched like a piece of produce by men who’ve been made to pay full price. They’re conditioned to think you’re the entertainment,’ she adds bitterly. As she catches the attention of one of the bar staff, her attention moves on to her drink order.
‘They can look, but they can’t touch,’ sniffs the redhead. ‘No matter what they think. And if they think they’re gonna get me drunk they’re in for a shock,’ she says as she hands Charlie her credit card. ‘Because I’ve got the constitution of a fuckin’ ox.’
I’m thankful for the distraction of text.
Sorry, Lis, but I’m running late.
‘Who’s making you smile?’ Charlie asks once he’s handed back the credit card.
‘My dinner date,’ I answer, tapping out a saucy reply.
It’s better to arrive late than ugly. Take your time, gorgeous man.
‘Oh,’ he answers snippily. ‘I didn’t know you were dating.’
In answer I smile tightly because I didn’t know I had to run these things by him—you know, a man I’ve met twice. In the coffee shop, he’d seemed cool, but now I’m getting a vibe from him I don’t understand. Is he this possessive with all his supposed friends?
‘Is that who you’re staying with?’ I already have one mother. I don’t need a standby.
‘It might be,’ I answer a little defensively.
‘So you won’t accept a drink from a bloke, but you’ll go out with the man you’re staying with?’
‘I don’t think I like your insinuation.’
