Nerves struck through Bernie's veins like the bullets from her handgun. This evening, the first Sunday, was her first fake-date with Roger as his fake-girlfriend. She was aware of one woman that he had shagged between their phone call on Wednesday and today, which was pretty calm for him. Maybe there just weren't as many women that he thought were suitable for him than usual. Oh, to live a simple life.
It got to around 4pm when Bernie really started to panic. What was she going to wear? Did she go full on date-night, or did she just stick to her comfies, as she wasn't actually going anywhere? Although, she didn't know Roger very well, so maybe stick with something casual. She certainly wasn't in any hurry to try and impress him with her looks, but as a social rule, she felt obliged to put a mediocre amount of effort into her appearance, ready for Roger's arrival at 5:30pm.
So she spent the next hour or so fumbling with certain ear rings, symmetrical eyeliner, a suitable outfit and making her home look somewhat presentable for guests. Even if it was only Roger coming over, she still didn't want to make it look like she lived in some state of squalor. There were still a few boxes laying around, filled with decorations waiting to be put on shelves and crockery clamouring to be placed neatly in the cupboard. That would be Tuesday's job.
Luckily, the two sisters had had all day to spend time with one another: something they were both anxious that they wouldn't have time to do very often. They'd gone out for a light lunch at the local garden center before having a vague browse round and making tracks home again. To the average person it seemed like a pretty mundane outing, but for Bernie and Flo it was like going to visit Father Christmas.
In the end, Bernie was settled in an outfit of tight black and white chequered pants, a plain red t-shirt loosely tucked in and her usual accessories of long necklaces, ear rings and plenty of rings. Lots and lots of rings. She would've liked to wear a looser, less figure-hugging pair of bottoms, but this was all she had that didn't look like she was attending an interview. Strong, black flicks hugged around her eyes, really making the brilliant green in them sparkle.
At 5:34 exactly, there was a tuneful knock at the door, which couldn't not be the knock of a drummer in a rock 'n' roll band. "Good evening, Roger," Bernie greeted him exceptionally louder than usual, ensuring that Holden heard. He was extremely nosy, so it wouldn't surprise her if he was quite literally keeping a lookout for Roger's appearance any day now.
"Hi, Beautiful," he smiled broadly, also latching onto Bernie's plan. "You look stunning."
"Get over yourself and get your arse in here," she scolded in a hushed whisper, hoping that Holden wouldn't hear that part. She just couldn't stand to be complimented, so yanked Roger inside by the arm, slamming the door behind him.
"I wasn't lying you know," Roger stepped towards her and tried to make eye contact with her, but Bernie, who saw it coming, turned her head away. Instead, he tried to place his hand on her waist, but she squirmed away and wrapped her arms around herself, firing enraged cuss words at him.
"You're not here to hit on me, you're not here to compliment me and you're certainly not here to touch me. You have your other conquests for that. You are here so that Holden knows you are here, that is the only reason. So don't you dare try anything, or I might have to perform a military self-defence attack on you, which will hurt. Got it?"
All through her monologue, Roger watched her with curiosity. "You certainly do have a funny way of doing things, don't you Bernie? Here I am, an irresistible guy and all you can do is threaten to attack me if I dare lay a hand on you." To be fair, he did look pretty good-looking with his voluminous hair ruffled clumsily and chest showing beneath the long chains around his neck, the first few buttons of his white shirt open.
"I said, got it?" Ignoring his vain comment, Bernie took two steps closer to him and spat the comment out between gritted teeth. She had no time for funny business, they both knew why he was here.
Roger almost looked intimidated, and took a step back from her glare: the first and only time she'd intentionally make eye contact with him that night. "Yes, Bernie." He said almost reluctantly, taking a relieved exhale when he was out from under her death glare.
"Would you like a drink? I'll pop the kettle on," it was almost as if that little threatening TED talk had never happened and Roger, feeling rather confused, felt obliged to accept. One thing she didn't notice, which was just as well for him, was that his gaze fell to her behind as she turned around and went into the kitchen.
Two cups of tea later and they were sat awkwardly on the complete opposite ends of the cushy sofa, deciding between them what it was they wanted to watch and for eats. "Well, I could nip down to the Chinese place and grab us some food whilst you pick what to watch," Roger offered and Bernie liked the sound of it.
"Depends who's paying," she eyed him sceptically.
"Me, of course, what kind of date would this be if I didn't treat you right?" Reaching his hand round to the back pocket of his well-fitting pair of blue jeans, he pulled out his black leather wallet and tapped it with his forefinger.
"Hey, I said-" Bernie pointed a finger out to him, but he grabbed it with a cheeky smirk before she could restart her fierce 'this isn't a date' mantra.
"Bernie, relax, I'm joking. I know this isn't a date." He teased, hoisting himself up from the sofa. Just as he made his way to the door to go out and order the food, he swivelled round with the front door half-open. "Bag of chicken balls, egg fried rice and a portion of chips?"
"H-how did you know?" the disbelief in Bernie's voice struck Roger as funny and he tapped the side of his nose in what she supposed was meant to be a wise way. It didn't work. She thought he looked like a twat when he did that. Along with most other things he did, for that matter.
"Every girl likes chicken balls," he shrugged and said exceptionally loudly in the corridor: "I'll be back in ten minutes Doll, okay?" A smile almost lighted Bernie's face and she appreciated his dedication to putting on a front. But then she remembered that she hated his guts and quickly wiped the smile off of her face. Still, she had to hand it to him, his ability to switch his character on and off was pretty remarkable.
About quarter of an hour later, Bernie heard a thudding outside her door and knew it must be Roger back with the food, attempting to make an exceptional amount of noise outside Holden's flat. "Good job, Taylor," she opened the door before he even had a chance to knock again, wanting him to hurry up and come inside due to her own ravenous hunger. "Thank you," somewhere inside of her she found gratefulness for his financial input in this meal as she poured a few drops of soy sauce onto her dish of rice, offering the bottle out to Roger afterwards.
"We're watching Live and Let Die, by the way."
꧁ Aᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's Nᴏᴛᴇ: ꧂
𝐻𝑖! 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑓𝑦 𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝐴𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑙 𝑜𝑓 1975. 𝐼'𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑑𝑑 𝑖𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡, 𝑠𝑜 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒... 𝑏𝑦𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑛𝑜𝑤 ♡︎
8/10/22