Chapter 1: Hit Parade

It was 8:37 exactly when I realised. I was in a coffee shop on my way to work. The usual girl was behind the counter. She didn't need to ask me what I wanted, she just said "hello" and asked me how I was as I handed over my travel mug, she filled it with my usual order and handed it back, charging me just sixty pence, a good deal cheaper than the recommended retail price, which I paid, as usual, with my RBS debit card. It was as I thanked her and turned to go that I realised.
I caught myself in the mirror behind her. The way the warm light from the trendy spot lamps reflected off the large up-close photographs of coffee beans on the walls made my skin look dark and tanned, the shadows gave me a firm, square jaw and I looked attractive in my Marks & Spencer suit. She was flirting with me, she liked me. That's why she remembered my order, that's why she was so friendly and that's why she charged me so little. And I encouraged it. I liked it. It made me feel good.
And that's when I realised.
I was a player.
I pondered this as I strolled through the Meadows towards my small, top floor office on the edge of the Old Town. It made me feel grown up. I'd finally left adolesence and joined the big boys. No. I wasn't a boy anymore, but a man. I didn't need to feel desperate around women, I had them hanging on my every word, I could manipulate them all I wanted. Cheap coffee was just one of the perks. I could go to the pub with the boys and feel a part of the gang, making passes at the barmaid, watching her swoon over me.
I felt my back straighten as I realised my new position in life. I looked dapper in that suit, I knew that now. I eyed the women walking in the opposite direction, trying to determine whether they felt threatened by my presence. One of them saw me looking at her and, safe in my new found abilities, I offered her a wink. It was a wink that said, "Hey babe, I'm gonna make your day just by acknowledging your existence."
She scowled and I realised I needed to work on the wink in order to turn it from creepy old man to player. I was a player, but a player in training. A natural player, but in need of some practice. Just as humans are natural walkers who need a trolley to hold on to in the early years of walking.
I leapt up the steps to the entrance to the office three at a time, strolled down the corridor and threw my jacket at the coat hook. It missed.
"Hey, Pam," I said to Pam.
Pam grunted, as she did every morning. And every afternoon. I'd thought she was just grumpy, but now realised that she was possibly fearful of my raw manliness.
I sat at my desk, switched on my computer and prepared to tackle the first of the sw words. It was then that the sickness rose in my stomach.