Page 29 of Hit For Six (Balls and Banter #1)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Lola

A meal at The Iris was not part of Lola’s Friday night plans. She’d set the evening aside to make a very long new venture To-Do list. The niche that she’d spotted in the musical theatre market wouldn’t stay a secret for long, because wasn’t that always the way when you had a fabulous business idea?

And Lola’s was special. Now that she had the money, she needed to jump on her musical theatre travel company.

A groundbreaking enterprise that didn’t just offer the usual suspect night away for its guests: show, dinner, hotel and breakfast, but a whole week of feel-good vibes.

Coach trips taking in regional theatres and performances all over the UK, seven matinees or evenings in a row.

Plus some token local sightseeing, quirky cafés, and quaint beaches en route. Basically, Lola’s dream holiday.

But the spotlight would be on the theatrics, with something for every age group and budget, even those with the most discerning tastes.

Maybe she’d even broaden her horizons to Broadway and some of the fringe theatres in New York if her project took off?

It was all so exciting and the possibilities felt endless.

Finally, she’d get to put her degree to good use and Lola could already imagine the natural high of her holidaymakers with everybody on the bus breaking into song as they pootled along to the next destination!

Never mind fancy detox breaks and sophisticated yoga retreats.

There was nothing more therapeutic for the soul than a week of non-stop musical theatre.

Admittedly, she’d probably only be able to put on a few trips a year to get started, freelancing in sales and marketing in-between, but her heart sang at the prospect of that alone.

Now here she was about to indulge in a very different form of entertainment.

Monty had managed to get them a table so easily.

Too easily. Lola decided it was best not to wonder if that was because he’d furtively booked ahead or he was simply well connected.

Probably both. The doorman was only too happy to take his mammoth cricket bag, as if he often passed by for a bite to eat after training.

Lola was secretly impressed (and still more than a little tingly after being called star fielder– cricket was definitely growing on her; T20 cricket she meant, T20 ).

She’d always wanted to come here. Ever since Bath had gained its own restaurant from the famous London establishment in the West End.

It was super sophisticated and the kind of place where you never knew who you might bump into before or after a matinée.

Sadly it was just that little bit out of reach for someone on her salary– even taking into account the pay rise.

And it tended to have a super long waiting list.

Shit, she didn’t feel dressed for this place at all.

Not that Monty was either. But somehow those with expensive faces could carry off casual wear.

Whether their money was old or new. Meanwhile, working class Lola tried her best to convince everybody that her New Look special had come from Karen Millen.

Maybe her companion’s mere presence would give her a glow-up? She could but hope.

Two menus were ceremoniously laid out before them and Monty, true to his word, ordered champagne mojitos.

‘So then, the fizz is on the table and it’s time to talk about you. I’m looking forward to this.’

On registering her words, Monty’s expression became cloudy. Lola raised a glass to him anyway and he gently clinked his against hers, his eyes suddenly lighting up again as he registered her presence.

But what was she doing here? Leading him on to the extreme.

And what was he doing with her ? When she scoured the dining room, she could see plenty of women whose skin truly did glow with the telltale signs of La Mer moisturiser.

Meanwhile, their necks, wrists and fingers glittered with select Tiffany jewels, and understated Burberryesque handbags dripped off the backs of their chairs.

How could Lola’s Nivea face cream, her basic outfit, and her ten-year-old Matalan handbag even begin to compete?

‘Ease me in gently!’ came his delayed reaction response. ‘I’ve got another idea. Let’s get to know one another better first. Quick fire questions: favourite colour?’

‘Hey, that’s cheating!’ Lola reached across to tap him on the thigh, suddenly thinking better of the come on and restraining herself with a ballerina posture. ‘But it’s purple at the moment. You?’

‘Aha,’ said Monty, his eyes on fire. ‘So that was your room that I spied when you gave me the apartment tour. I digress. Royal blue, of course.’

Why didn’t Lola say red, yellow or green? Talk about another close call. She really didn’t want to open the curtains on her musical theatre obsession tonight.

‘I might have known,’ she quipped.

She took a sip of her cocktail and finally gave herself permission to enjoy herself.

Not to let down her guard completely. But to try her level best to treat this evening as two mates out on the town.

There had been far too many awkward moments at the park and she was ashamed of her grumpiness and snapping.

Despite the fact they were currently sharing a table, their thighs were in no danger of rubbing and their hands were in no danger of touching if she could just remember to sit here like a penguin. All was well in the friend zone.

‘Lola? It’s your turn to ask me a question!’

‘Oh, okay. Favourite… Actually, let’s play This or That instead. Much more fun.’ And they were far less likely to drift onto the subject of pastimes. ‘Even quicker.’ Yeah, that too.

‘Capybaras or meerkats?’

Evidently she now had animals on the brain.

‘Capybaras, I think.’ Monty pondered this for a second or two. ‘A mate of mine once did a stint in a meerkat sanctuary in South Africa. Apparently they might look sweet but they’re little stink bombs.’

‘You won’t get extra points for explaining yourself.’ Lola giggled. ‘Speed is of the essence. But did you know there’s a capybara café in Tokyo?’

‘No way!’ said Monty. ‘Well, if my T20 career ever takes me to Japan…’

Why was he looking at her in such a way that she could imagine them fussing over the giant rodents together and feeding them veggies whilst sipping iced tea?

Stop it, Monty! Lola needed to think of some boring comparisons that couldn’t give anyone future date ideas when it was her turn again.

Obviously, they weren’t on a date right now or anything.

‘Cheese or chocolate.’

‘Chocolate, of course. Is that even a question?’

‘Just because it was your idea to steal my thunder, you’re not allowed to justify yourself either, young lady.

’ She shouldn’t love it when he popped these endearments on the end of his rambles.

Her legs had almost given way when he’d called her sweetheart back in the park.

‘But chocolate? Are you for real? When cave-aged blue cheese, gorgonzola and Beaufort d’Eté are in this world? ’

Lola covered her mouth and pretended to yawn.

Then Monty caught the reflex for real seconds later, before it rebounded to Lola.

And just as quickly, the couple at the nearest table to them were trying to disguise their weariness.

All of which set Monty and Lola off on a fit of hysterics, until the peeved cough of their neighbours told them it was time to shake it off.

‘FOMO or JOMO?’ asked Lola in a wobbly voice.

‘Fo what? Okay, I’m declaring myself too old for this game if we’re bringing back the jargon of those kids from the park.’

‘Whoop, I’ve won.’

Lola toasted herself and took another sip. They really ought to look at the menu before Monty asked her to clarify those abbreviations. Bubbles and an empty stomach did not mix.

‘We’re going back to the quick fire questions,’ he announced decisively, adding, ‘hobbies?’ before she could protest.

Lola stalled. Her particular brand of recreation was such a Marmite thing.

You loved it or you hated it. Faces tended to glaze over and, she had to admit it, this often became a make or break factor in her friendships.

Like, Lola’s current circle had all seen something at the theatre, at least once in their adult lives– and of their own accord.

But being dragged along to watch Joseph or The Lion King on a school trip/by your uber-enthusiastic parents really didn’t count.

Lola had strict musical theatre standards.

And she liked the man sitting opposite her a lot.

As a friend. It would be the biggest disappointment if he slated her life’s passion.

‘We need to order, Monty. The waiter’s hovering.’

‘We do.’ Monty shot her a skeptical look. ‘But I’ll be revisiting this one.’

Not if they got on to other subjects first. It felt like he was bringing sporting tactics to this convo. Like the way penalty takers in football pull a trickshot on the goalie. She guessed it was in-built given he was a T20 pro.

Lola had already decided that she’d plump for fish.

That was one of the handful of advantages of being a fussy eater: she knew what she liked and often it was a case of only one or two possibilities jumping out of the menu, since the rest would be accompanied with complex sauces or bitter vegetables.

She’d go for the cheapest version, obviously.

Monty might be loaded but she intended to pay her way.

‘I think I’ll have the pan fried sea bass, please– minus the saffron sauce.’

‘Same,’ Monty told the waiter. ‘Can I have my… friend’s sauce, though?’

‘Bit cheeky!’