talk and laughter packing the air till the music was just a subliminal cheery reggae boom boom boom coming up from the floor into your feet. I was high as a kite—not on coke or anything; there had been a bit of hassle at work earlier that week, but that day I had sorted it all out and the triumph was making me a little giddy, I kept catching myself talking too fast or knocking back a swallow of my pint with a flourish. An extremely pretty brunette at the next table was checking me out, giving me just a second too much smile when my eye happened to land on her; I wasn’t going to do anything about it—I had a really great girlfriend and no intention of cheating on her—but it was fun to know I hadn’t lost my touch.
“She fancies you,” Declan said, nodding sideways at the brunette, who was throwing her head back extravagantly as she laughed at her friend’s joke.
“She’s got good taste.”
“How’s Melissa?” Sean asked, which I thought was unnecessary. Even if it hadn’t been for Melissa, the brunette wasn’t my type; she had dramatic curves barely contained by a tight retro red dress, and she looked like she would have been happier in some Gauloise-ridden bistro watching several guys have a knife fight over her.
“Great,” I said, which was true. “As always.” Melissa was the opposite of the brunette: small, sweet-faced, with ruffled blond hair and a sprinkle of freckles, drawn by nature towards things that made her and everyone around her happy—bright flowered dresses in soft cotton, baking her own bread, dancing to whatever came on the radio, picnics with cloth napkins and ridiculous cheeses. It had been days since I’d seen her and the thought of her made me crave everything about her, her laugh, her nose burrowing into my neck, the honeysuckle smell of her hair.
“She is great,” Sean told me, a little too meaningfully.
“She is, yeah. I’m the one who just said she’s great. I’m the one going out with her; I know she’s great. She’s great.”
“Are you speeding?” Dec wanted to know.
“I’m high on your company. You, dude, you’re the human equivalent of the purest, whitest Colombian—”
“You are speeding. Share. You stingy bastard.”
“I’m clean as a baby’s arse. You scrounging git.”
“Then what are you doing eyeing up your woman?”
“She’s beautiful. A man can appreciate a thing of beauty without—”
“Too much coffee,” Sean said. “Get more of that down you; that’ll sort you out.”
He was pointing at my pint. “Anything for you,” I said, and sank most of what was left. “Ahhh.”
“She is only gorgeous,” Dec said, eyeing the brunette wistfully. “What a waste.”
“Go for it,” I said. He wouldn’t; he never did.
“Right.”
“Go on. While she’s looking over.”
“She’s not looking at me. She’s looking at you. As usual.” Dec was stocky and tightly wound, with glasses and a mop of unruly copper hair; he was actually OK-looking, but somewhere along the way he had convinced himself that he wasn’t, with predictable consequences.
“Hey,” Sean said, mock-wounded. “Birds look at me.”
“They do, yeah. They’re wondering if you’re blind, or if you’re wearing that shirt on a dare.”
“Jealousy,” Sean said sadly, shaking his head. Sean was a big guy, six foot two, with a broad open face and his rugby muscle only starting to soften; he did in fact get plenty of female attention, although that was wasted too, since he had been happily with the same girl since school. “It’s an ugly thing.”
“Don’t worry,” I reassured Dec. “It’s all about to change for you. With the . . .” I nodded subtly in the direction of his head.
“The what?”
“You know. Those.” I darted a quick point at my hairline.
“What’re you on about?”
Leaning in discreetly across the table, keeping my voice down: “The plugs. Fair play to you, man.”
“I don’t have fucking hair plugs!”
“They’re nothing to be ashamed of. All the big stars are getting them these days. Robbie Williams. Bono.”
Which of course outraged Dec even more. “There’s nothing wrong with my bleeding hair!”
“That’s what I’m saying. They look great.”
“They’re not obvious,” Sean reassured him. “Not saying they’re obvious. Just nice, you know?”
“They’re not obvious because they don’t exist. I don’t have—”
“Come on,” I said. “I can see them. Here, and—”
“Get off me!”
“I know. Let’s ask your woman what she thinks.” I started to signal to the brunette.
“No. No no no. Toby, I’m serious, I’m going to actually kill you—” Dec was grabbing at my waving hand. I dodged.