The Spinster's Club

Romy: Five

Sitting before a block of chocolate with a carving knife in my hand, I stared at it almost as though I thought it was going to speak to me. Not actually speak to me of course but at least give me an idea about what it wanted to eventually become. Today it had decided to just remain a mute block of chocolate.

Normally I could sit down to work and not get up until hours later, so in the zone did I become that time slipped by without me even noticing. I hadn't been able to create diddly squat in the few days since the nightmare of the fire inspection. Just the thought of it brought a flush to my cheeks at the fool I had made of myself. Or maybe it was the thought of David out of his uniform...

"Get out of my head" I grumbled to the vision in my mind that was blocking my muse. "Sinceriously; you're not wanted or needed so go."

Of course all that did was make me think of him even more. Maybe I needed to take CeCe's advice and just ask him out. I had gone right around to her place to see her after leaving the store that afternoon, in the hopes that she would be able to offer me some words of advice. I mean, she wrote romance novels for shit's sake, so surely she knew how the heroine could overcome her blatant idiocy and flirting to snag the hero. Turns out she didn't know jack.

~*~*~

"Darlin', if I had the answers I wouldn't have to write about romance, I'd be living it. I certainly wouldn't need to take part in this foolish pact we made."

"I know, right? This is what happens when we all get together and we drink. We really need to stop doing that, especially as a group. It only takes one of us to start then the rest of us fall into line, not wanting to be the only one left out. If one of us had the brains to stand up and say no, we probably wouldn't get into half as much trouble as we do."

"That would be a shame" CeCe had laughed and I joined her. "We have had quite the adventures in our day haven't we?"

"Ain't that the truth! Maybe that's why we're all such great friends – we might do stupid things but we do them together – no man, or woman in this case is ever left behind. Maybe you should give away romance writing and start writing down some of the adventures; you'd make a killing in the thrill-seeker/horror/comedy sections."

"I have half a mind to consider that as a real option" she mused, suddenly no longer laughing. "In all seriousness though, forget the romance books; they're just generic fodder for the masses who like to believe that stuff like that happens in real life. We're both old enough and wise enough to know it's not how it really happens. Why don't you just go and ask David out? The worst that can happen is that he says no."

"I suppose so. God, I wish I was living Groundhog Day – at least I could go back and change things so it never happened."

CeCe looked at me as I looked at her and we both said "No you (I) wouldn't" at the same time before we burst out laughing.

~*~*~

As it turns out the worst that could happen is that I didn't take her good advice and so two days later, I was yet to pick up the phone to call David. Maybe that was why I couldn't work; my mind was clearly focused on a more pressing issue.

I had come close a few times, even getting as far as finding the phone in my hand. I just hadn't been able to find the nerve to use the other hand to dial the numbers. Why was it so hard? It really was as simple as 'hey David, it's Romy; would you like to go to dinner sometime?' and yet I felt like I was calling to ask him for a kidney.

I was a confident – mostly – woman with brains and a talent with chocolate that gave joy to hundreds of people and a head for business so why was it so hard to ask a guy out on a date? I really did feel like I was 16 again and it had been just as awkward then. I had been with other men since so it wasn't like this was going to be my first thrill ride.

I hadn't wanted to tell the other girls about my flirtation with disaster but maybe they could offer some different words than what CeCe had. We were all having drinks tonight so I would float it by them then. Who knows, maybe they might make an impression.

~*~*~

The following morning I woke with a headache clearly conjured up by Satan himself; or maybe it was all those blue and fruity drinks; and I vowed I was never going to drink again. Of course I vowed that each time I went out drinking with the girls and I always gave in at the first sign of a glass with an umbrella in it, but never again. Especially not when I looked in the mirror and found the reason my arse cheek felt like it was on fire. I couldn't dial Amy's number fast enough.

"H'lo."

"Oh my god, Amy, what the fuck did we do?" I almost howled down the phone.

"I don' remember but I think we jus' drank too much."

"My ass..." was all I managed to get out before I heard the phone being dropped. "Amy? Quit kidding around... Amy?"

Moments later a voice filled with horror came back on. "I am never going to drink again. Never, ever, ever."

"That's all well and good for you but what about my arse! You know how I feel about tattoos so how did you manage to talk me into this? You were always the one who wanted to get inked, so how did it end up being me?"

"Umm, I... got one too" she half whispered."

"Excuse me?"

"I have one too. Just give me a minute; I think it's coming back to me now."

"Oh well then, let me just go and make a cuppa while you have a think about it shall I?"

"Don't be a bitch Romy. I'm sorry ok."

Sorry really wasn't going to cut it but at the end of the day I had been drinking just as much as she had and I clearly had given my consent for it to be done. I felt sick and it had nothing to do with all the alcohol I had imbibed. "Fine. Can you at least tell me its non permanent?"

"It's the real deal I'm afraid. Something tells me it's payback for the things I said to the guy while we were in the shop..."

Something told me I needed to sit down for this, sore arse or not.

~*~*~

So, the bad news was the tattoo was real and not just a really life-like stick on; the really bad news was I had it because I drank too much and wanted to be like Amy. It turns out that while I was riding the porcelain bus, Amy was mouthing off to the shop owner, not only about his looks but his Swissness, hence the flag. In the end it didn't really matter how I got one too, just that I had.

'Well, there goes the idea of calling David' I thought to myself glumly. How could I possibly go out with him and perhaps have him see the tattoo if we became intimate a couple of dates down the track? How could I explain it – 'oh, I went out drinking and it seemed like a good idea?' He probably already thought I was ditzy after that day in the store; I didn't need for him to think less of me because I couldn't control my drinking.

Of course it was just a tattoo, not even a big one and he might have even thought it was funny but for some reason I wanted him to have a good impression of me. Well, at least better than the one he must already have. Maybe I could ask Amy to ask Dr McFrenchy if he can remove it, or lead me to someone who can. Then, when it's gone I can finally pick up the courage to make that call to David and he would be none the wiser.

Unfortunately I was never that lucky and so it was a week later that David got to see not only the tattoo but me in all my glory and he hadn't even had to buy me dinner first.

~*~*~