Page 53 of Love Unlocked

‘You look fitter than Mick,’ Brick says, which is true. Mick has been working on building a beer belly. ‘Who’s carrying the baby, you or Tracey?’

Mick laughs, taking it well and smacking his belly with pride.

‘We have spare gear,’ Beano says, throwing Al shorts and a vest.

‘Come on, man,’ Flick says. ‘If we lose we have to buy these lads drinks. Help us out. I’m on a school teacher’s wage and Mick has a baby on the way. And Buff needs to make enough money to have his clothes handmade because he keeps ripping them off when he turns green.’

The lads chuckle and Buff nods in agreement.

Bo, who has been quiet up until now, says, ‘If you don’t race with us, I’ll text Michelle Mullins to tell her that you’re in town and you’re looking for a blow job.’

Sitting in the boat and waiting for the race to start, there’s a minor delay as the umpire chases geese off the course.

The seat of Stroke was the place Al felt most confident in his life. Growing up, he worked hard to earn that position, and the dedication and heartbreak had paid off. But his fragile heart, which has taken a serious bashing, is pounding in his chest with fear. There are seven men on this boat counting on him to lead them to victory. He’s not in a winning place in his mind. He was as certain of his greatness in the boat as he was of his abilities to be a good friend, an attentive loving fiancé and a solid husband. He had it all in the bag. He’s now confident of knowing that he was absolutely none of the things that he believed he was. It was all a ruse, a kind of delusional self-brainwashing. He is not and was not a focused fiancé if he hadn’t seen what was right in front of him, if he hadn’t detected the sadness and unhappiness in the woman he wanted to love for the rest of his life. The arrogance that seemed to help him float through life, succeeding as champion rower, excelling in university, achieving an honours degree in Engineering, rising to the top of his department at Bridgespan, and procuring a beautiful woman of his dreams, was built on nothing but misbelief. He had failed. If he had failed in that, then this endless belief that he had in himself to lead others to victory was fake too.

To be the best he needed to believe that he was the best, and that others believed in him too. A godlike complex he had created for the success of his sporting career, but he sits here knowing that the seven people behind him who are counting on him already know that he’s a failure. He is none of the things he claimed to be. He’s lost everything, and now he is about to fail spectacularly for the men in this boat, for their girlfriends, wives, boyfriend and children on the banks of the river to witness. The mask is off. They are about to see who Al really is.

‘I can’t do this, Beano,’ he says suddenly, quietly. He looks around for a way to get out of what has fast become a nightmare. He’s not The Stroke anymore, he needs to get out of the boat.

22

MELODY

‘Melody! It’s been a while,’ Sanjeev calls from his food truck as she arrives at the Waterford Whiskey festival. All the food trucks at the whiskey distillery are connected by festive string lights, and in the centre are long picnic tables with benches ready for seven hundred people to tuck in.

‘It smells good, Sanjeev, what are you guys cooking up in there?’

He holds up a finger for her to wait, finishes frying something in batter. Drains crispy, delicious popcorn-like nuggets on paper towels then tips them into a small tin bucket, with a sauce on the side. ‘Pakora. Potato, onion, cauliflower and a special whiskey sauce.’

There’s not enough time to let it cool because he’s watching her eagerly. Melody blows on it quickly, dips it in the sauce and bites.

‘Oh my god. It’s amazing.’ She quickly chews because it’s burning her mouth but it’s delicious.

‘Take the lot,’ Sanjeev says.

‘Stuffed’, her and Sam’s food truck, is the job today, and she plans to visit her mum afterwards. She can take care of her business and her family and it has nothing to do with the fact that she has to give her agent an answer about the podcast and she’s running away. It suits her to be out of town, busy, busy, busy.

Once upon a time, Melody and Sam had a food dream together. Sam is a trained chef and worked in an upscale fine-dining Dublin restaurant but he always had dreams to start his own business. They’d talked about combining her love of music with a restaurant, but they couldn’t afford the grand plan, so instead dreamed up pop-up ideas, checked out venues, drew up budgets, Sam played with menus, spent his free hours and rare days off in the kitchen trying new dishes and Melody had the joyful experience of tasting everything. What food would he make for this song? What flavour does this track evoke? It was a mixing of the senses. Again for Melody, it was like mixing music, how to take two different things and blend them. They enjoyed the planning and the dreaming. And then they broke up. All the problem-solving and mash-ups that fill her thoughts, and she had failed to figure out how to combine herself and Sam.

Despite their romantic relationship failures surely she could deliver her best self as a business partner and so she went to him with the foodtruck investment proposal. She’d been worried about him, friends said he’d taken their recent break-up terribly and he was sliding. She felt she owed him. Melody hadn’t known but by that time Louise was in the early stages of pregnancy. Sam had definitely not been planning to get involved and start a family so quickly, which he’d confided to Melody, so his head was really all over the place. She felt getting into business together could be good for him. In hindsight, her actions may not have been entirely selfless and perhaps it wasn’t the best time to insert herself back into his life, with a new partner and a baby on the way. But Sam was in.

Sam planned the menu and made the food. Melody knew summer festivals around the country like the back of her hand and knew which would be a success. It had taken them a few months to get started but they’d had a successful summer trade, and a surprisingly successful autumn and winter with private parties, weddings, birthdays and events. Sam ran the truck, and if Melody wasn’t DJing at the event, she tried to show up whenever she could because she wanted to experience serving in the truck too. As an accountant Louise started looking at their books, then she stepped in on the days that Melody was gigging or presenting her radio show, and then stepped in on days when Melody wasn’t busy so Melody had to make herself busy and all of a sudden, without a formal conversation, Louise seemed to be part of the business.

On a food high, Melody takes the small tin bucket with her to the Stuffed truck, which is beside ‘Little Dumplings’, run by husband and wife Wei and Yan. The door to Stuffed’s food truck is closed, but the front is open, and she hears Louise and Sam arguing. Melody listens outside.

‘But why is she here, Sam? Why? I don’t get it. Did you invite her?’

Sam’s response is less audible, just a deep stressed mumble in response, a response that Louise is not happy with.

‘But she can’t just pop up when she feels like it. Surprise us with her mere presence as if it’s some kind of treat. It’s not professional! We need somebody who knows what she’s doing – actual help – not a novelty act for the customers!’

Melody steps away from the door and hides behind the food truck where no one can see her. Her heart is pounding and aching with humiliation. Should she leave? Louise doesn’t want her here, but why should she be forced out of her own business?

The truck door opens. ‘I’m going to the jeep for more drinks,’ Louise says snappily. As soon as Melody spies Louise weaving her way through the picnic tables and out of sight, she steps out from her hiding place. She takes a deep breath and steps up into the food truck.

‘Good morning, Sam,’ she says chirpily, as if she hasn’t just heard what she heard. ‘I take it we have to do something whiskey-related, what’s our dish?’

He looks at her in surprise. ‘We’re serving whiskey-maple-glazed baked sweet potato.’