Simon Silver stops right in the middle of the stage, wearing a headset microphone. “Okay, let’s get straight to business,” he says in his Australian accent. “I want each of you to take a piece of paper and write down your top five essential attributes of an ideal partner.”
Women all around me start to rummage for their note pads and pens. After a moment of hesitation, I do the same. I have to try my hardest not to wince, because Jay’s sitting back in his chair, casually watching me. As I start to scribble down five traits, Jay angles his head to see what I’m writing. I cover the page with my hand so he can’t look.
“Shouldn’t you be writing, too?” I ask, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye.
“Don’t need to.” He smirks and taps his forehead. “I’ve got it all in here.”
I concentrate on my page again. So far I’ve got: funny, smart, protective, and motivated. Deciding to hell with it, I finish off the list with handsome.
“Have you all got your five traits?” Simon asks from the stage, and there are murmurings of “yes” from the audience. “Great,” he continues before setting his sights on an Asian woman in the front row. “Hello there, what’s your name?”
The woman stands up and puts her hand on her hip before answering, “Meesha.” She seems confident and sassy. If he’d singled me out like that, I’d probably have forgotten how to speak.
“All right, Meesha. Would you like to read your list out for everyone?”
Meesha picks up her piece of paper and, without any hesitation whatsoever, starts to read, “Wealthy, good-looking, strong, sexy, and a big dick.”
Simon chuckles, his bleached teeth glowing against his brown skin. “I take it you mean you want him to have a big dick rather than be a big dick.”
Meesha laughs uproariously. “Yes, yes, that’s what I meant.”
“Funny, sounds like she was describing the latter to me,” Jay whispers conspiratorially.
Sounds like she was describing you, I think. Although I have no clue if the “big dick” part is accurate.
Slumping back in my seat, I mutter to myself, “Remind me why I paid eighty euros for this?” I must have said it louder than I thought, because Simon Silver’s gaze lands on me.
“Hello! The brunette over there in the third row wearing blue, would you like to go next?”
Oh, God, no. It’s happening. I’m the singled-out singleton. Voice don’t fail me now.
“Not particularly,” I mumble.
“I’m sorry, could you speak up?”
I sit up straighter. “I’d rather not.”
“Oh, come on. We’re all friends here,” says Simon. “A lot of what we’re going to work on today will be about confidence building. And what better way than to do a bit of public speaking, eh?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t.” I rub anxiously at my neck, so roughly I’ve probably left a big red mark.
Just as Simon’s about to make further efforts to convince me, Jay comes to my rescue. “My friend’s a little shy. How about I go instead?”
All of a sudden Simon becomes aware that there’s a man in the audience. Shock, horror. And he doesn’t seem too pleased about it.
“But of course. Go ahead,” he says, a wary glint in his eye as he gestures for Jay to stand up.
Jay stands, his eyes on mine the entire time. I send him a silent look of thanks. “Okay, my ideal girl will be classy, funny, beautiful, sensitive, and she’ll have a great fucking rack.”
Furious giggling breaks out all around us, and I don’t know why, but I’m suddenly embarrassed. Apart from “sensitive,” I’m not sure if I’m any of those things.
Simon chuckles. “You do realise this is a seminar to teach women how to find men, right?”
Jay shrugs. “I must have missed the memo.”
“All right, well, a lot of what I teach will be useful for dating women, too. So you’re welcome to stay.”
“Gee whiz, thanks,” says Jay with no small amount of sarcasm before sitting back down in his seat. Simon gives him a hard look but then plasters a big smile on his face seconds later.
“Okay, the next part of this exercise requires you to take those five attributes, and I want you to focus mainly on the personal qualities rather than appearance, and turn them on yourself. I want you to question whether or not you possess the qualities you want your partner to have. If you don’t, then do you have a right to demand them of others? Furthermore, what can you do to cultivate those qualities in yourself?”
I look down at my list: funny, smart, protective, motivated, and handsome.
Jay nudges me with his shoulder. “How are you doing so far?”
“Well, I am the handsomest lady I know, so that’s a start.”
“And I’ve got a fucking awesome rack, but remember, we have to leave out anything related to appearance.”
“Right,” I reply, half laughing as I bite my lip nervously.
“So…?”
“I’m not very good with self-analysis.”
“Let me see.”
I hand him the list, and he looks it over. “Funny? Check. Smart? Check. Protective? Check. You’re always looking out for your dad. Motivated? Check again. I don’t know anyone who’d work a forty-hour week and then come home every evening to work more on making dresses.”
“Jay! I hate to admit it, but you’ve just made me quite like myself.”
He frowns. “Why wouldn’t you like yourself?”
“I don’t know. Self-loathing is kind of a human disease, isn’t it? I mean, I wouldn’t be here right now if I went around thinking I was flipping fantastic all the time. If I did that, I’d have no trouble picking up men.”
Jay’s about to say something when Simon starts to speak again. “Well, how did you all do?”
There are a number of grumblings from the audience. “Yeah, I get it. We’re all guilty of wanting the perfect person, but we never think to look inward and see how totally imperfect we are ourselves. But that’s okay. The key is to be constantly trying to improve. None of us are ever going to be perfect, so let’s cut that thought out right there. All we can really do is try to be the best version of ourselves that we can possibly be. We need to be comfortable in our own skin, and when we achieve that, we suddenly become more attractive to the opposite sex.
“Take me as an example. When I was younger, I had zero confidence. I might as well have been invisible to women. I didn’t believe in myself, and believing in yourself is the most important thing. One day I walked into a shop and bought a self-help book. It was nothing special, but it planted the seed in me to become what I am today.”
He continues with a few more anecdotes, though it feels more like an opportunity for him to waste a bit of time patting himself on the back. I don’t really come away with anything useful. Then we’re broken up into groups to role-play. One of us is the guy and the other is the girl, and we have to pretend we’ve just met in a bar or some similar environment. The one playing the girl has to take the lead in chatting the “guy” up. And yes, it’s just as painful as it sounds.
I get stuck doing it with a woman wearing a paisley shirt and a corduroy skirt, while Jay is practically bombarded with women who want to role-play with him. Surprise, surprise. In the end, though, he pairs up with the blonde who’d been sitting beside him.
I still have a slight urge to stab her with my pen.
I hardly get to speak to Jay for the entire two hours, and then it’s already lunchtime. I’m making my way out of the ladies’ room and heading toward the hotel restaurant when he appears from behind a column. He immediately links his arm through mine and leads me in the opposite direction.
“Hey, soooo, I was thinking we’d do lunch at the café across the street. Turns out you were right about the stampede.”
I burst into laughter that’s full of “I told you so’s.” “What happened?”
“I got asked to eat with about ten different chicks. One started squeezing my bicep, and another actually pinched my ass.”
“Oh, God, lucky you. Okay, I suppose we don’t have to eat here if it’s all too much for you.”
Jay raises an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge, Watson?”
“Why, I do believe it is, Holmes.” My grin couldn’t get any wider.
“Fine. We’ll eat here, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
When we enter the restaurant, I can practically feel the eyes on us like laser beams. Jay makes sure that we get a table only big enough for two in the far corner of the room. A waiter comes along quickly to take our orders and then leaves just as swiftly.
“Ah, I’m starving. I hope the food comes soon,” I say just before the blonde Jay had been partnered up with appears at the table.
“Hey, mind if I join you?” she asks.
Jay coughs. “Sorry, Joanne, but I don’t think there’s room.”
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll manage to squeeze myself in somewhere,” she tells him with a wink.
“We’ve already ordered, and I actually came today to support my friend, Matilda. So, if you don’t mind….”
Her expression sours. “Right, well, I apologise for interrupting.”
There’s a moment of uncomfortable silence after she leaves, so I occupy myself by unfolding my napkin and placing it on my lap. When the quiet becomes too much to bear, I make a joke. “You know what, single men should crash these things all the time. It would be the perfect hunting ground.”
“Yeah,” says Jay, but he doesn’t seem much in the mood for conversation.
I reach across the table and put my hand on top of his. “Are you okay?”
He turns his hand palm up then before lacing his fingers through mine and giving them a tight squeeze. He still hasn’t responded, but he’s giving me some kind of meaningful eye contact. Tingles rush through my veins. A moment later the food arrives, and I quickly pull my hand away.
I spend the next while focusing on eating my salmon salad, at the same time berating myself for ever agreeing to let Jay come here. Not only has it been a cringe-fest, but it’s also been a bit of an awkward-fest, too.
The second half of the day is less about role-play, and more about sitting and listening to Simon drone on and on. Along the way, I come to the epiphany that I’m never going to become the best version of myself like Simon wants us all to do. The best version of myself got lost somewhere in the past, destroyed by a whole range of experiences.
Number one would be seeing my own mother killed in front of me.
Number two was spending an entire year as a confused child trying to pull my father out of his grief.
Number three was meeting my teenage boyfriend, a boyfriend who then dumped me out of the blue by text after two years together because he decided he was in love with someone else.
And the constant underneath all of that is an ingrained fear of taking chances. I’ve lived my entire life at home, with the comfort blanket of my dad as my constant companion. The funny thing is, Jay’s recent presence in my life has made me start to want to take a chance, break free and do something crazy. Consequences be damned.
When the day finally draws to a close, I’m exhausted and can’t wait to get home to my bed. It seems that’s not to be, as Jay convinces me to come have a drink with him. He brings me to a pub called the Gypsy Rose, where there’s an old rocker sitting in the corner, strumming a guitar and crooning into a microphone.
“So,” I say as I hitch myself up onto a barstool, “this is where you like to spend your time.”
“Yeah,” says Jay. “It’s got character.”
“Oh, so that’s they’re calling it these days.”
The bartender, a surprisingly young and attractive rockabilly type, comes over, and he and Jay do this suave little handshake.
“What can I get you two?”
“I’ll have a beer,” Jay replies.
“And I’ll have a vodka and orange,” I say, avoiding the wine because it will probably be more like vinegar.
“So, did you enjoy yourself today?” Jay asks once we’ve been served our drinks.
“Uh, yeah. It was very helpful,” I reply, lying through my false teeth. In all honesty, I’m really embarrassed that I paid so much money and came away with nothing but a goodie bag filled with pat advice.
Jay chuckles softly as he lifts his beer and takes a long, thirsty swig, his mouth curving in a smile. “So, basically, you thought it was a load of horseshit.”
“What? That’s not what I said!”
Jay twists on his stool so he’s facing me head on. “Watch me carefully.” He clears his throat before repeating my exact words back at me while shaking his head. “That’s what you did, Watson. Your mouth was saying yes, but your body told me no. Mouths lie, bodies tell the truth.”
I groan. “Okay, so I was bored out of my mind for the most part. The role-playing could have been useful if I had been paired with someone better than Miss Paisley Shirt. Even I could pretend to flirt better than her.”
“All right, how about we try again now? Pretend I’m some dude you’re into, and you want to chat me up. Go on.”
Pretend? Sure, Jason, I’ll pretend I’m into you.
“I think I’ve suffered enough for one day, thank you very much,” I reply.
Jay tuts. “Chickenshit.”
“I’m not chicken — I’m just not in the mood.”
“You’re chicken. Come on, Matilda, I’m waiting.” He starts to drum his fingers on the bar to emphasise his point. I know he isn’t going to let up until I do this, so I sit there for a minute, trying to think of an angle. I get up, walk over to the corner, and then walk back, slipping onto the stool again. Jay stares straight ahead, nursing his beer.
I cough. “Hello.”
He gives me a casual glance, then says, “Hey.”
“Do you, uh, come here often?”
His chest starts to move up and down in silent laughter. I expect him to drop the whole thing and tell me my line was shit, but he goes with it. “Yeah. Do you?”
“No, actually. This is my first time.”
A smirk. “Your first time, eh?”
God, he really loves his virgin jokes. “Yes. My name’s Matilda. What’s yours?”
“Royston. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Matilda,” he replies, offering his hand.
I sputter a laugh. “Royston, seriously?”
“You got a problem with my name?”
I try to keep a straight face. “Nope. None at all.”
“Good.”
I open my mouth to say something, but I’ve got nothing. I let out a long sigh.
Jay laughs. “What’s wrong?”
“Ugh, I give up.”
Knocking back another gulp of beer, he gets up from his stool. “Okay, you want me to show you how it’s done?”
“Eh, yes?” I reply eagerly.
“I’ll be right back.”
He walks away, and I turn back to the bar, running a finger over the rim of my glass. The stool next to mine squeaks, sliding closer. I feel Jay’s arm touch off mine as he takes my hand in his. He’s all up in my space, and it’s hard to breathe, hard to focus.
“Hey,” he murmurs huskily, his gaze boring into mine.
“Hi,” I croak.
“Great eyes,” he goes on, voice low.
“Oh. Thanks.”
His gaze wanders down my legs to my feet, and it feels like his mere presence is taking up every inch of my personal space. Normally, if a man did this to me, I’d be running in the opposite direction. But Jay has this way about him that makes me like the touching, as though he is a magnet and I’m a piece of metal. I like the closeness, even though in this role-play we’re supposed to be complete strangers.
“Fantastic shoes.”
“Thanks. Again.”
Now he just keeps looking at me, his eyes flickering back and forth between mine. I get lost in their greenish-brown depths, and his mouth moves closer, close enough so that I can feel his breath on me. My hand is still in his, growing sweatier by the second. His tongue sneaks out to wet his lips, and for a brief moment I forget what we’re doing, because it feels like he might kiss me.
“Darlin’,” he breathes softly, and I melt.
Involuntarily, I squeeze my thighs together tight, suddenly aching between my legs. A tiny, almost inaudible gasp escapes me. This is it. He’s actually going to do it.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, he pulls away, giving me a sly grin. “Well, how did I do?”
I knock back the last of my drink in order to give myself a chance to recuperate. “Uh, yeah, you did okay. You didn’t really say much, though.”
“I never really need to,” he answers smugly.
“Well, we mere mortals don’t have that luxury.”
“Sometimes I go with: ‘Do you know what you’re doing later? No? That’s funny, ’cos I do.’”
A burst of laughter escapes me. “You’re joking! That works?”
He nods his head. “Yup. Like a charm.”
“I think you could probably say, ‘I’ll be Burger King and you be McDonalds. I’ll have it my way and you’ll be lovin’ it,’ and you’d probably still score.”
Jay slams his hand down on the bar top. “That’s a good one! Did you come up with that all by yourself?”
“Are you being sarcastic? And no, I’m not a complete cheeseball.”
When I look at him, he’s turned to face me, his chin resting on his fist, his hair hanging slightly over his forehead. He couldn’t look any more edible.
“You’re more appealing than you think, Matilda. It’s your mindset that’s pulling you down.”
Okay. Can I please have the first part of that quote engraved in gold and hung over my mantelpiece forevermore? The only response I can come up with is my usual unladylike snort.
He shakes his head, and then a man wearing a black leather jacket and biker boots walks into the pub. He gives Jay a nod and then goes to sit at a table by himself.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” Jay says, leaving me and making his way over to the man. They shake hands, and Jay pulls a small, thin package from the inside pocket of his coat. He hands it to the man, and the man gives him an A4-sized envelope in return. Then they sit and talk for a minute before shaking hands again, and the man leaves. Jay returns to his stool beside me.
“What was that all about?”
“Just a man about a dog.”
“Hmm.”
“Hmm,” Jay says, mimicking me.
“Has it got to do with your case?”
“We are nosy this evening.”
“Fine, I’ll stop asking questions.”
Jay stands, his stool scraping against the floor. “Are you finished? I think it’s home time.”
“Yeah, I’m done.”
We leave the pub and drive back to the house in silence, though it’s a comfortable kind. After spending the day with him, I feel like I know Jay a lot better now. Well, I don’t know much about him in terms of hard facts, but I do feel less antsy in his company, more relaxed.
The next day at work is another slow one. Dad comes in and out of his office several times to check the appointment list. It’s still just as empty as it was the last four times he checked.
“Things will pick up,” I try to reassure him, but he doesn’t look reassured.
I take a long lunch and go sit in the park to eat my sandwich. Since I managed to get my new sewing machine with Jay’s help, I no longer have to save up and can afford the nice sandwiches from the deli, rather than bringing a packed lunch. Although, from the way our appointment numbers have gone down, I’ll probably be back to saving again pretty soon.
There must be some way to help boost the business, I think to myself.
When I get back to the office, I spend some time researching online advertising and exploring ways in which Dad could branch out. I bookmark a couple of ideas and then shut down my computer for the day.
As I walk to the bus stop, I notice a weird stencil on the pavement. It looks like it’s been done with some sort of chalky substance. There’s a big red heart, inside of which is the number six. Inside the hole in the six is one of those QR codes. It instantly reminds me of Jay’s picture in the newspaper, where he’d been holding a six of hearts. He’d also left that exact card on my phone when he’d made it miraculously disappear and then appear.
Pulling said phone out of my handbag, I scan the code and wait to see what happens. A slick website pops up, all done in black and electric blue. An image of a man on a stage makes up the background. His back is turned to the audience, his arms spread out like an eagle. It takes a second for me to realise it’s Jay, because he’s topless and I haven’t seen him topless before. His tattoos dance along his skin, looking almost alive. Beneath the image are just a few lines.
July 26th, 8 p.m.
The Paint Cellar,
Temple Bar,
Dublin 2.
And that’s all there is, just one page, no other info at all. I hurry to the bus now, eager to get home and question Jay about the mysterious website. What’s going to happen on that date and at that location?
My pores tingle with excitement.