Page 3 of Friends with Benefits

‘Look at this,’ she says, raising her hand to my cheek and rubbing her thumb under my nose. ‘Are you going to tell me what happened?’

I pull her hand away from my face, conscious my brother is watching us. ‘Yeah, Tommy Arnold got what was coming to him. Can I go inside?’

Surprisingly, she takes a step back. I raise my chin to Drew and Brooks as I pass by.

‘Proud of you, man,’ Drew says, making my stride falter.

Brooks’ hand comes down on my shoulder. ‘Getting in a fight over a chick is like a rite of passage, man. Don’t feel bad.’

My mom walks beside me, insisting I come inside to get cleaned up. I follow her into the house.

‘Hey, Jake!’ Brooks calls before I close the door. I turn to face him. ‘You should come to the gym with us sometime. We can teach you a few extra moves.’

I try to stay cool but I know I end up grinning. ‘Yeah, maybe.’

2

JAKE

Now

I’m standing in a bar in Covent Garden, drinking a pint of English ale. A new ale to me. Apparently, it was brewed in Cornwall, which I’m told is on the south coast somewhere. It’s smooth. Creamy. Maybe a new favorite. The Brits love their ale, I should tell you that.

I’ve been living in London for two years now, since I took a job at a hedge fund over here, right out of college at NYU. Why am I here in London? That’s a long story and one I don’t feel like getting into right now because it’s Saturday night and I’m enjoying beers with the guys. Well, guys and girls who keep coming over to talk to us, same difference.

‘That one there is absolutely gagging for it.’ The source of those words, leaning into my ear, is one of my roommates, Alex. He’s a pompous twat, as the Brits say. Speaks like the royals but give him one beer and he has none of their grace. His full name is Alexander Frederick Embersome-Evrington the Third. But God love him. He’s a giant goof ball too. If he likes you, truly likes you, he’ll move heaven and earth for you. Or pay someone to do just that.

Now, he’s pointing to a leggy blonde. No meat on her bones. Not much shorter than me at six two. She’s sporting a face full of makeup and a sequin dress as short as the type Taylor Swift wears. It’s out of place in the old English pub but I’m guessing she’s headed from here to a club in Soho.

‘I’m bagging this one,’ Alex tells me, totally self-assured, and is probably right to be.

‘Go get your Saturday night,’ I tell him.

Leaning back against the bar, I watch him make a move, working his magic.

My buddy, Sean, turns from the bar and hands me another beer, so I’m double parked. I drain my first as I accept the second.

‘How does he do it?’ he asks, as the blonde giggles and falls happily under Alex’s arm.

Charlie, a guy I work with, extricates himself from blondie’s friends and joins our conversation. ‘Alex is unbelievably obnoxious, yet he pulls the hottest women every time. Maybe I’ll start acting like a knob head twenty-four-seven.’

I laugh because it’s both true and well-meant. ‘It’s that baby-blond, preppy-boy look,’ I tell them.

‘If I ever have a son, I’m sending him to boarding school to give him a start in life. The ladies love it.’

We all banter with each other a lot but we all have each other’s backs: Alex, Charlie, Sean and me. We make up four of our usual Saturday night six-some. Charlie and Sean were the first guys I met when I moved across the pond. Charlie was working all kinds of jobs – mostly bar work – to supplement his income whilst he gains traction as a stand-up comedian in London’s comedy clubs.

Sean is a snooker player. A pro snooker player. He and Alex are childhood buddies and tried to hustle me one night. Charlie knows Sean from all the bar work and Charlie is possibly the worst snooker player the world has ever seen.

The other two of our six-some are Jess and Abby. I live with Jess. She’s awesome. I mean, certifiably nuts, but such a laugh. And Abby is Sean’s much finer other half. She’s hot as hell and always looks stunning, even if you catch her on an errands day. I guess she feels like she has to make an effort all the time since she’s had years of being pictured in magazines with Sean. Generally, though, they do all right when they’re out. By that, I mean they don’t usually get recognized unless some guy knows his snooker well.

The girls will be here shortly. Jess is taking part in a fashion show tonight in which Abby is modeling. Jess designs clothes and accessories, which she sells in boutiques around the city. Her brand name is slowly getting out there, helped by her regular fashion column in a free magazine they give out on the city’s underground system. Tonight, it’s only her accessories being used by other clothes designers but it’s still great publicity.

‘Hey Jake, did you go check out some bikes today?’ Sean asks.

I swallow the ale in my mouth. ‘I did. I saw a sweet Harley. I’m torn between that and the Yamaha I saw last week.’

‘I’ll never understand motorbikes,’ Charlie says. ‘It’s suicide. Especially in the city. Driving a car in the city is bad enough. In any case, you can’t really get your speed up. Where’s the fun?’

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