Free Another Cup of Coffee by Jenny Kane Page B

splashed his face with cold water, sprayed too much deodorant under his arms, and stuffed his electric razor into his jeans pocket to use later. Throwing on a clean white shirt, Jack grabbed his keys and wallet and, ignoring his pneumatic drill of a headache, ran out of the door.
    As Jack stood in the anonymous crowd of commuters, awaiting the next train link from Mortlake to Kew, he caught sight of an advert pasted on the opposite side of the station. Cinema Tickets – 3 for the price of 2.
    â€˜Three for two.’ Jack played the phrase around his mouth, like a tongue irritating a sore tooth. As he took the tatty railcard out of his wallet, Jack winced, the now familiar tide of rage rising within him. An anger that was aimed solely at himself as he recalled that not only had he let Kit give him a blowjob that morning, but that he’d had sex with her the next day as well. For God’s sake! What the hell had he been thinking? And what about Kit? Had the woman got no pride at all?
    Jack considered the uncomfortable recollection as he stood cheek by jowl with his fellow passengers, remembering the song Kit had decided would be suitable for him the day after their top five song discussion.
    It had come to her as she’d showered, and was a piece of music that, Kit declared, should be dedicated to him; one that summed up how she felt about him, about their relationship. Jack cringed inwardly as he remembered how he, caught up in Kit’s childlike enthusiasm, had thoughtlessly announced that he’d decided on a tune for her too. He hadn’t even had to think, it had come to him instantly as he stood with her. He wished it hadn’t.
    Kit had chosen ‘I’ll Stand By You’ by The Pretenders for him. With particular reference she’d said, to the bit about confessions not changing anything. Jack had been blown away. It had fitted their last twenty-four hours together so well. It said so much. It still did. It might even have been amusing, if Kit had got in first. But she hadn’t.
    If only he’d hesitated. If only he hadn’t blurted out that he’d always associate Meatloaf’s ‘Two Out Of Three Ain’t Bad’ with her before Kit had mentioned her choice for him. The clouded hurt had darkened her face for only a millisecond before she’d replaced it with her ‘I don’t mind’ mask; but Jack had seen her momentary lapse. The hurt had shown, however briefly, before Kit laughed, claiming the lyrics were “most fitting”.
    â€˜Barely a crack in her mask,’ Jack mumbled to himself, thinking of the younger Kit as the crowded train moved off, ‘until now.’ Suddenly it seemed so obvious that she’d been in love with him. Too up yourself to notice, as usual . Jack felt sick as he closed his eyes to London as it whizzed past the train window.
    For a change, Jack was glad the shop was so quiet. Time to stop making excuses, and start putting together the endlessly discussed website. Rob would never actually do it, and anyway he needed to work, keep his brain active before it unearthed anything else from the dusty catacombs of his memory.
    After an hour of failing to get the initial stages of the site started, Jack slammed his fist against the computer mouse, cracking its top and sending it skidding across the desk. It was a relatively simple task, but his psyche kept veering off into the diverse cock-ups of his past.
    â€˜Sod this.’ He got up and filled the kettle.
    The door swung open, and Rob walked in, ‘Jack?’
    â€˜Making coffee, you want some?’
    â€˜Thanks.’ Rob came through to the back, catching sight of the cracked mouse as he circumnavigated the desk, on his way to the tiny kitchen-come-stock room. ‘You OK?’
    â€˜Sure.’ Jack stirred an extra spoonful of sugar into his drink.
    â€˜You don’t look OK, you look rough.’
    â€˜So would you if you’d been trying to get