I study her. “I get a refund for the hotel room, though, right?” She laughs softly. She thinks I am joking. Cheryl squeezes my arm for support, a gesture I appreciate because I know the money spent has pained her more than I.
She finds my name at least. “Welcome!” she says, smiling suddenly.
“What room am I in?” I ask.
“I’ve no idea. The official hotel is across the motorway there.”
I sigh. “So I have to drive up to the roundabout and cross over?”
“Actually, I don’t think you can get back on the motorway there. You’ll have to go down two junctions. It’ll take about fifteen minutes.”
I nod, impassive. I had not expected these two days to go well.
I check in and cancel the next night’s booking, even though it means I will have to drive back to London at 10pm. We go to the hotel bar to unwind. It is crowded with businessmen and sci-fi geeks. I nod at the fat kids in Star Wars t-shirts. “Look at these cunts,” I say.
“Christopher! These are your fans. Well, future fans. Potential future fans.”
“I’d rather die,” I say.
“Don’t be melodramatic.”
I nod at the businessmen. “Why can’t they be my fans?”
“You hate businessmen too.”
“At least it might mean I was writing something with intelligence.”
“Oh Jesus,” Cheryl says.
“What?”
“I think that’s a guy I knew at university.”
“In Virginia?”
“No. I spent a couple weeks at the UL one semester.” She turns away quickly.
“What’s his name?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You don’t want to say hello?”
“Not really.”
“Well he’s coming over.”
“Dammit.”
She stays with her back to him and I watch him stumble over, weaving with drink, holding a brown short. I am instantly jealous.
“Cheryl!” he slurs when he stops behind her.
She turns and feigns surprise. “Hello!” she says and they embrace. “Wow, it’s great to see you.”
He holds her and then looks at me. “Who’s this?”
“This is my husband, Christopher.”
We shake hands. “Your wife sucked me off at uni,” he tells me, beaming. My mouth drops open and I say nothing. It is a comment I don’t quite recover from for the rest of the convention.
I turn to Cheryl and she is smiling, embarrassed, and I know it is true.
“Sorry!” he says. “Had a few drinks. Never know when to keep my mouth shut.”
“Apparently you’re not the only one,” I would say if I wasn’t stunned.
“Drinks?” he offers. “Small white wine?” he asks Cheryl. She nods.
“Scotch. Double. Ice,” I say.
He claps me on the arm and goes to the bar, landing on it heavily.
Cheryl and I stand in silence. “Do you want to go upstairs?” she asks me after awhile.
I look at the man at the bar. “Is there a minibar?”
“No.”
“Then no.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” I wait for a second. “I thought you were only over here at university for a couple of weeks.”
“Yes. Fifteen days.”
“And in that time you got close enough to someone to suck him off?”
“It’s just a blow job. I didn’t fuck him.”
“What kind of skewed logic is that? Blow jobs are worse.”
“How?”
“It just is. I can’t explain. It’s practically abuse.”
“I don’t see it as a big deal. Sex is a big deal.”
“It is a big deal, trust me.”
She shrugs. “Maybe it’s another British/American thing.”
“Then I wish I’d grown up in America. Christ. British girls do not do that first.”
The man returns with the drinks. I finish mine fairly quickly. They talk for awhile. Then I feel upset enough to humiliate them. “Cheryl,” I say. “You haven’t introduced us. What’s this man’s name?”
I smile as though she is stupid but she answers “Jason” immediately and my smile drops and he shakes my hand again.
“I can tell you some stories,” he says.
“No, you’re alright,” I say. “What are you doing here? Travelling salesman? Driving around with a car boot full of timeshare brochures?”
“Nah mate. I’m here for the convention. The sci-fi industry meet.”
I smile genuinely. “Really? You’re actually here for that?” I laugh. “You’re a nerd linger, are you?”
“No, no. I represent some of the actors here. I’m an agent.”
My smile drops. “Oh. Successful, are you?”
He shrugs. “I’m doing okay. Can’t stand sci-fi myself but it’s big business. Film-wise, anyway. Couple of holiday homes, one abroad. Nice little sports car, model girlfriend. Can’t complain!” he nudges me in the ribs. “What about you two? Not on holiday in Doncaster, are you?”
“No,” Cheryl says. “Christopher has a novel coming out in a few months. A sci-fi novel.” Just a hint of malice in her voice. As though we’re standing talking to a woman I licked out ten years ago.
“Oh, that’s…that’s great,” he says. No, that’s…fantastic. You’re into all that are you? Gorks and giants and laser beams?”
“There are laser beams in the book. But no….giants. One of the characters is quite tall…”
I trail off, and trail to the bar, and trail through quite a few drinks until Cheryl has to put me to bed and in the morning I try not to remember all the things I said and shouted.
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