Free The Importance of Being a Bachelor by Mike Gayle Page B

it.’

‘You know I don’t dance.’
    The following Friday night, Russell and Angie were sitting in a bar on Thomas Street for their usual hey-it’s-the-weekend-let’s-drink-ourselves-silly meet-up. The bar was more packed than usual but fortunately for the pair as soon as they had stepped through the doors a large group of students sitting on the worn leather sofas in the corner stood up and before they had even put on their jackets Angie had slipped in behind them, handed Russell a crumpled ten-pound note and ordered him to get her a double vodka and Red Bull by fair means or foul. Now they were firmly ensconced in their favourite spot.
    For the most part they talked about two items currently highest of Angie’s list of things that were bothering her. The first was the fact that now Aaron had moved out of the flat it would only be a matter of a few months before she couldn’t afford to carry on living there. Russell had suggested that perhaps she should go into a house share but Angie had looked at him in a withering fashion as though he had suggested that she take up part-time prostitution. Next Angie had brought up Aaron again, this time in relation to the recent news that he had apparently been seen by a mutual friend in the company of another (female) mutual friend with Angie declaring that ‘the fat bitch can have him if for all I care him it’s the sneaking about like I give a toss that really gets under my skin.’ Russell didn’t bother challenging this because it would only annoy her.
    When they had exhausted Aaron-related topics Angie firmly set down her glass and demanded to know what was ailing Russell.
    ‘Who says there’s something ailing me?’ said Russell, taking a long sip from his pint by way of diversion.
    ‘I do,’ laughed Angie. ‘First off you’ve barely said a word all night and what’s more you’ve called me three times this week to check I’m coming out tonight. Not even my mother calls me that often.’
    ‘OK, there is sort of something going on but I know you’re going to go mad at me . . . I’ve finally decided to tell Cassie how I feel about her.’
    Angie’s eyes widened. ‘You’ve what? I thought you were all sworn off Cassie since your brother and her decided to get hitched?’
    ‘I thought I was over her.’
    ‘So what happened?’
    ‘Everything.’ Russell could see that Angie was already losing patience. ‘It’s not easy, you know. I really was serious about moving on. Even I could see there was no point now that they’re engaged. But just when I thought I was rid of her for good she invited me round to hers and I couldn’t say no, and Luke wasn’t there and she was looking all cute and vulnerable in that way she does and . . .’
    ‘You’re not trying to tell me something happened?’
    Russell shook his head. ‘Not in the way that you mean. It’s just that . . . I don’t know . . .’
    ‘You’re back in love with her?’
    ‘It’s pathetic isn’t it?’
    ‘I think the word you’re looking for is spineless.’
    ‘That’s a bit harsh.’
    ‘I’m just telling it the way I see it: nice bloke falls in love with wrong girl is fine. Nice bloke falls in love with wrong girl and is given a cast-iron reason to fall out of love and yet still remains in love with wrong girl is . . . spineless. You don’t want me to sugar-coat this for you do you? Because I’m sure that I don’t need to remind you I’m not that kind of friend.’
    ‘At this rate you won’t be any kind of friend at all,’ complained Russell. ‘Sometimes I don’t know what gets into you.’
    ‘Fine,’ she snapped, shooting him a look of hurt and fury. ‘Whatever.’ She headed in the direction of the downstairs toilets.
    Russell leaned back in the sofa and finished off his pint. Angie was right. What was he doing even thinking of telling Cassie about his feelings? He made his way to the bar and, after ten minutes of being ignored by an over-coiffured barman, ordered another