Bang: Memoirs of a Relationship Assassin by David Wailing Page B

pinball enthusiasts out there if you know where to look, with plenty of spare parts and expertise. Thanks to their help, I had a proper pinball machine from the mid-Seventies flashing and chiming in my living room. Could spend hours on it, trying to beat my high score, pumping the flippers and singing away to myself. That deaf dumb and blind kid, sure plays a mean pinball!
    So that was Thursday afternoon gone, and then I went down the pub with Darren. Got in three times as many rounds as him while he babbled on about this girl he was shagging. But Asquith and Bream Consolidated had to do without me.
    Why? Because I wanted her to want me.
    It wasn’t as if we were having some great romance or anything. Wuthering Heights this ain’t. But I wanted to trigger some small feeling of eagerness in Becky. Even if it was just looking forward to another little distraction from work.
    Making a woman meet you halfway isn’t something you achieve by following her too closely. You play a few cards to show you’re keen, but then you keep the rest of your hand hidden, see if she wants to play the game.
    I wanted her to wonder where I’d got to.
    I wanted her to miss me, just a little.
    Phase 7: Isolation.
    Friday 11 June. 12.05pm.
     
    There was a middle-aged woman struggling across reception with a chair, carrying it out of the main office and into a meeting room. Without even thinking, I stepped up to give her a hand. She was relieved, thanking me as I carried it into the room. No problem, I said breezily, popping the chair down and walking back to the reception desk. Becky was watching me with a smile on her face.
    I’d love to be able to tell you that was meticulously planned. That I’d set the whole thing up so that I could show her what a nice guy I was. But that would be bullshit, so I’ll admit it was pure luck. By itself, nothing very important. But little things like that can add up quickly.
    Becky said “Look at you, knight in shining leather,” and I shrugged as if embarrassed, as if I’d been caught doing the boy scout thing, whoops, you got me.
    She looked great. I hadn’t paid much attention to her clothes before. Bland office stuff, blouses and jackets. But it was Friday, so now I noticed her white t-shirt and blue Levis. You couldn’t get much simpler, but it looked good on her, showing off her curves. Her auburn hair wasn’t pinned up today either, but fell down onto her shoulders in lightly-curled waves. Teardrop earrings instead of hoops. Had she made an effort for me?
    “What happened to you yesterday then, mister? Where’s this other package?” So she did notice that I hadn’t come back.
    “Ah, threw it away. Didn’t look important.”
    She laughed. And I noticed her eyes were now doing the scanning thing, left and right over my face. I felt my pulse jump a bit – that was one of the small signs I had been looking for. I hadn’t shaved for three days now, and the stubble was nice and even, so maybe that was it. She didn’t like her boys too pretty.
    “You’ve been delivering packages to other places, haven’t you? I just know it.”
    “Who, me? How could you say that?”
    “I know your type. Cheating swine. You’ll deliver to anyone. You’re just a – ”
    “Slag!” we chorused, giggling like kids. I silently thanked her mate Laura for the gift. Nothing brings two people together better than having a laugh over somebody else.
    Her telephone rang again, and she rolled her eyes. It seemed like a genuine call, so she caught me by surprise by saying “Hello, Chinese laundry? Look, for the last time, I’ve never heard of Asquith and bloody Bream, all right? Yes, you can pick up the bed sheets at four, goodbye!”
    I guess you had to be there to see the way she did it, but it did crack me up. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve had to fake laughter to show some woman how much I appreciate her sense of humour. (The worst was Mrs Baker, who saw herself as a female Tommy Cooper. Only