I didn’t answer. In my usual shy, reserved and conservative manner, I just pulled off my top and pounced him.
Next morning, I woke up with a groan. I looked at Phil, still sleeping soundly. He was so adorable. I thought about the night before. Where on the Richter scale of fuck-ups did it register? I loved him, I thought, I really did, but the sexual chemistry still wasn’t there.
He stirred and I turned to look at him.
‘Good morning,’ I smiled tentatively.
‘Good morning.’ He looked at me for a minute. Eventually he spoke again. ‘We need to talk, don’t we?’
I nodded as he sat up and gazed at me searchingly.
‘The way I see it, we make amazing friends, Carly. I’ve never had a female mate that I’ve loved like this.’
I nodded again, biting my lip. It was my turn.
‘I love you too, Phil.’
‘But?’
‘But I don’t think we’d make an amazing couple. I’m a nightmare, Phil. It would only end in tears and you mean too much to me to let that happen.’
He thought for a moment, then grinned. ‘Thank God. I was worried that you’d be hopelessly besotted now and I’d have to fight you off.’
I hit him with a pillow, then paused. ‘I’ve got a solution,’ I suggested, laughing. I reached over to the bedside table and pulled the gold foil out of my cigarette packet. I rolled it up and tied the ends, making a circle. He looked on, intrigued. I slipped it over the third finger of his left hand. ‘We’ll wait till we’re thirty,’ I said. ‘And if we haven’t found the right person for us in that time, then we’ll have another try.’
He nodded. ‘I’ll carry you up to my cave, where we’ll settle for platonic togetherness. I’ll even father your children if you bring a test tube and a turkey baster,’ he offered.
I accepted.
‘Friends?’ I asked.
‘Friends,’ he agreed. He enveloped me in a cuddle, then suddenly pulled back and his eyes met mine. ‘Carly, can I ask a favour?’
‘Anything.’
‘Before we go back to platonic world, could we do that blow job thing again?’
I yelped in outrage and smacked him again with the pillow. ‘You should be a comedian, you know that?’
He flashed my favourite cheeky grin. ‘I do. My best mate keeps telling me. Maybe one day I’ll listen to her.’
Weeks passed and Phil and I continued to spend all our time together. I’d already been in Shanghai for over a year and I knew that despite the success of the club, I wanted to explore another city. I applied for a transfer to our Hong Kong hotel and waited impatiently for the answer.
The film crew finally completed the shoot, but Phil decided to quit and stay behind in Shanghai. He’d fallen in love with Asia. He found a job with an independent production company, making corporate videos and tourist information films. When the crew left, he moved into my room, sharing my bed every night, but with not a penis in sight. We were both content with the arrangement.
One day, Jack called me in to his office. He put a piece of paper in front of me.
‘What is it?’ I asked.
‘Your transfer to Hong Kong.’
I dived over the desk and hugged him, then kissed him on each cheek.
‘We’re going to miss you around here, Cooper.’
I blushed. ‘Right back at you, boss.’
Two weeks later, I threw a party for the staff at the club. I had grown so attached to them, especially Lily, whose eyes were red as she hugged me. I was going to miss them all so much; even Zac the twat.
Next morning, Phil took me to the airport. I clung on to him, crying my eyes out.
‘Keep in touch, Cooper. I love you.’
‘I love you too, Phil,’ I sniffled.
As I walked through passport control, I turned and waved. He gave me a bow.
It was the last time I ever saw Phil Lowery.
11
Will Smith – Gettin Jiggy Wit It
Two things struck me this morning. In all the excitement, trauma and panic of the last few weeks, I’ve somehow lost ten pounds in weight. The only problem is it all seems to have come off my boobs, which are stretching to the floor so badly that I’m throwing out my Wonderbras and looking for a Miraclebra.
I’ve also been sadly neglecting myself in the beauty stakes. I could lose small children in the hair on my legs and knit a jumper with my eyebrows. As for the bikini area, it looks like no man’s land, which, let’s face it, is exactly what it’s been for far too long. My pores are blocked, my nails are chewed and my hair resembles straw hanging out of a bin.
I call Carol in a panic. Luckily she doesn’t have an assignment today so she agrees to take me in hand and book us in for a complete overhaul at her favourite beauty salon. ‘Complete Overhaul’ were her words. Luckily, as well as excess hairy bits and a lack of grooming, I also have thick skin.
An hour later, a stunning blonde with a Claudia Schiffer figure takes my coat as I enter. She’s like a walking advert for this place and I accept that no amount of work is going to make me look like her before I leave here. I immediately flatten down my hair, pull in my stomach and ram my hands into my pockets. Carol spots me eyeing up the distance back to the door as I plan my escape and intervenes.
‘Cooper, you look like you’ve been living rough for a month,’ she whispers impatiently. So much for friends being a boost to the confidence. ‘Sit down and behave yourself. You’re just going to have to suck it up and chew the bullet.’
I know she means bite the bullet but I don’t correct her, realising her mixed metaphors might just be the brightest moment in my day. I decide capitulation is the only answer for now – I can always escape through the bathroom window
