James Goss - Almost Perfect

Emma: What is she doing back here? I mean, it’s unsettling. She looks so good – has she been dieting, or sprayed on the tan, or just found a new hairdresser? I dunno, but she looks knockout, the cow. Of course, I shouldn’t begrudge her her looks, but she’s really come on in leaps and bounds. She’s made an effort. She used to look like she’d been dressed by her cat. Ah well. If there’s hope for her, there’s hope for all of us.

Emma got herself a drink from the bar, and inhaled it, glancing around nervously.

Bloody chill, girlfriend! Leave everything to me, and you know you’ll be brilliant .

Yeah, thought Emma. I’ll just look at a few people, and if I don’t like them, then I can go home, we’ll log in to Are You Interested? and laugh at strange men’s curtains.

God, you are thrilling. And I’m taking the liberty of tweaking your metabolism just a little. A little less adrenalin, a little more…

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Emma decided this was the best drink she’d ever tasted. She caught her reflection in the mirror and grinned. I am looking fantastic, aren’t I?

See? Now, let’s get on with this .

‘Hello, my name is Harry. I work in… well, it’s just a call centre really. At the moment. It’s not what I wanted to do, really, but you know how it is – you doss around after uni, and then you do something for a few weeks, then a few weeks more, and before you know it, you’ve been doing it for eighteen months, and then you’re the manager. But you know, it’s OK – the people are great, and the money’s nice, but my real love is my sport and my mates and surfing. Do you know what the original lyrics to that Beach Boys song were?’

Emma sipped carefully at her drink.

Well?

He is gorgeous, she admitted. He’s got great hair, lovely teeth and piercing blue eyes. And I can tell he’s ripped. She let herself imagine them taking walks along a foreign beach. They looked good together.

But…?

Well, he’s so dull. I can just tell. And so young.

What do you want me to change?

I dunno.

Oh, Emma!

Look, the body’s perfect, but he’s so empty. I mean, can you make him more mature, teach him a foreign language, get him a decent job, some nicer jeans and a cordon bleu cookery course?

…

What was that?

Emma love, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, doll. You know that. But there are limits. Yeah, I can give him more balls, and make him a bit brighter. I can also have a bit of a fiddle with the genes that predispose him to cheating .

Cheating?

Oh yes. I’m afraid he’s never been faithful in a relationship. Those cheekbones were built for cheating. He gave his last girlfriend the clap. And her best friend got it too. And while he’s here making puppy eyes at you, there’s a girl in Newport who thinks he’s The One. But I can change all that. I can make him faithful and pox free .

I don’t know. Would he be the same?

Look, I am bending over backwards for you, sweet cheeks. You’ve got the best-looking fella in the room, and he’s desperate for you. Look, if he’s not a keeper, we can at least get you a shag out of him .

Oh, cheers, Cheryl.

Someone has got very choosy of late .

Of course! I’m nearly perfect, aren’t I?

:-)

Gwen watched as the guy sat down. Ponytail, (too) skinny jeans, black T-shirt with a skull design made 3-D by his beer belly. Too much jewellery. And, oh yes, a mobile phone in a holster. He gave her a big grin, and she just thought, ‘Spots? In your thirties? Oh bless.’

‘Gavin,’ he said, and laughed nervously. ‘This is all right, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah,’ said Gwen. ‘I suppose. I’m Gwen.’

‘Pleased to meet you,’ he said. ‘So, are you into modelling?’ Gwen giggled, despite herself. ‘Bless you! No! God, no! When I was twenty and a twiglet, maybe. But no, not now!’

‘Shame,’ the man sighed, genuinely disappointed. ‘I paint orcs myself.’

‘What?’

‘Model orcs.’

‘Right. Uh.’ Gwen fingered her glass. How do people do this? ‘Any other hobbies?’

‘I love going to the cinema. And gaming. MonstaQuest. And do you play Warcraft?’

‘Dear god, no! My friend Owen used to, all the time.’

‘Really? What’s his username?’

‘Oh, he doesn’t play much any more,’ admitted Gwen, tightly.

‘Pity. I hate it when someone leaves their Guild,’ the man looked genuinely sad. ‘Still, I bet I’ve whipped him a few times.’

‘Are you sure? I think he was pretty good.’

Gavin managed a surprisingly roguish grin. ‘I think I’m better.’

‘OK.’ Gwen thought hard and mustered an interest. What was it the Gavins of the world loved? She tried to remember what the staff were talking about whenever she went to dig Rhys out of Spillers Records. ‘So, what about the cinema – I’m guessing films with a high body count and a big space bang at the end?’

He shrugged. ‘Actually, I’m more into my visceral horror – you know, torture porn? Love that stuff!’

‘Really? I’ve always been a bit squeamish, me,’ said Gwen. ‘Never could stand the sight of blood.’ She looked long and hard at Gavin. Do I really have to talk to this moron for a whole five minutes?

‘Shame,’ continued Gavin. ‘There used to be a few clubs in Cardiff, you know…’ He leaned forward, conspiratorially, his breath catching Gwen like a force field. ‘Tales of all sorts of horrors. Like fight club – but with beasts.’

‘What kind of beasts?’ Gwen was genuinely intrigued.

‘Well, you see, people said it was aliens. Aliens fighting humans. But I don’t believe all that. There’s a lot of conspiracy theories – you know how it is with all the stuff that’s been going on in the last couple of years.’

‘Yeah,’ said Gwen, almost impossibly slowly.

‘But lots of it’s nuts. I mean – all this talk of alien visits, and ships in the sky and so on. But it’s all “a friend of a friend”, isn’t it? Have you ever met anyone who’s actually met an alien? Talked to one? No? I thought not.’ Gavin smiled in a satisfied way.

‘No. Not me. I’ve always lived a quiet life,’ said Gwen.

‘Oh, don’t get me wrong – it’s not all blood and gore for Mr Gavin. Sometimes, I like nothing better than to chill at home with a pizza and some boxsets. That can be dead romantic, can’t it?’

‘Oh god, can it?’ sighed Gwen.

One thing that should have alerted Gwen to the nearby presence of an alien device is the fact that this conversation had only taken ten seconds. She had another four minutes and fifty seconds of speed-dating with Gavin to go. And nothing more to say to him.

Emma was talking to some poor kid. He was babbling away about how awful his flat was. ‘See, this bloke moved back to help his folks run a cinema. He let it out dead cheap, and I thought I had a bargain. Real impressive it is – at the back of an old warehouse. The square footage is amazing, although the bathroom leaks.’

Emma was nodding quietly, trying to imagine him with better skin, or a clean T-shirt, maybe, or a bit Scottish, or blond or something.

‘Thing is, it really is an old warehouse. If I meet a girl out and she comes home, she thinks I’m like a serial killer or something. Honestly, before I even start unbolting the hangar door they’re phoning a cab…’

‘And, actually, at the moment, I’m really into World Music.’

Patrick lifted the rubbish out onto the dumpster. He spun when he heard the footsteps behind him.