Coconuts and Wonderbras (6 page)

    ‘Libby, you met Alex last night.’

    ‘Briefly,’ I answer and stupidly feel myself blush again when Alex winks at me.

    ‘A definite brief encounter,’ he acknowledges. Whatever the hell that means.

    ‘Alex’s book has done very well in the States,’ says Jamie.

Is that an accusing tone I hear? Okay Libby, don’t get defensive. You need an advance don’t forget. Did I mention that Alex Bryant sent his first book to us? No, I probably didn’t. I rejected it you see. I always thought him a pompous arse. Nothing has changed there then.

    ‘Really, I hadn’t heard,’ I lie, shifting in my seat in a vain effort to propel the sanitary towel back upwards only to send the slimy sucker towards my thigh.

Jamie gives me a quizzical look.

    ‘The book is number one in the
New York Times
bestseller list,’ he persists.

For Christ’s sake, what does he want me to do? Lick Alex Bryant’s shoes or something?

    ‘Oh,
that
book,’ I say in a bored tone.

Alex chuckles.

    ‘Yes,
that
book,’ says Jamie impatiently, opening a folder.

    ‘Yes, of course. They obviously like that kind of stuff in America,’ I say sarcastically.

    ‘That stuff?’ asks Alex raising his eyebrows and giving me a sardonic smile.

    ‘You know. If a door is closed karate chop it open. Use your light sabre to hack the concrete to pieces should you be trapped underneath some debris. You know the kind of thing. How to fight off terrorism single handed. I am surprised, in fact, that you managed to find time to attend this meeting. Can you put saving the world on hold?’

Jane glides in at that moment. She takes the time to give Alex Bryant an admiring ‘you are my hero’ look and then offers to pour him coffee.

    ‘That’s fine. We have it, thank you Jane.’ Jamie escorts her to the door while shooting me a dirty look.

Alex Bryant’s eyes seem to bore right through me.

    ‘Yes, I did read your review of
Life in a War Zone
.’

He did?

    ‘I had hoped you may have changed your opinion of my book,’ he says lazily, seeming not in the least interested in my opinion.

    ‘No. I still think it is a useless piece of journalistic crap,’ I say, standing up and feeling the sanitary towel slide even further. I immediately cross my legs and feel sure I resemble a constipated duck or something. Jamie slams a coffee cup onto the table.

    ‘Randal and Hobson disagrees with you Libby. We are picking up Alex’s contract and will be handling his new book. The fact you rejected
Life in a War Zone
is history and Alex would very much like you to handle things from here on. After all, there are no mistakes in life, only lessons,’ Jamie says profoundly and looks quite pleased with his little speech.

    ‘Ooh, can I stitch that onto a pillow or something Jamie? Or do you have bookmarks already?’

Honestly, this is just too much. Having just split from Toby, I feel I cannot take much more.

    ‘Excuse me. There is so much testosterone in this room that I fear for my genitals.’

I am rewarded with another dirty look from Jamie. I really must go to the loo to sort out my sanitary towel. I shuffle to the door in the manner of John Wayne. I slam it behind me and rush to the loo. The sanitary towel falls limply to the floor and I feel like following it. Oh God, please don’t make me have to work with him. I was right to reject that book. I know I was. Why doesn’t Jamie support me? What does he mean
Alex would very much like me to handle things
. The truth is I have done nothing but ridicule his book, and he has done nothing but ridicule Toby’s work. Honestly, just because he is an award-winning journalist doesn’t mean he can dictate who handles his books. I bundle a wad of loo paper into my knickers and pull up my tights. I really should go back. A quick glance in the mirror confirms my fears. I look gross. I twist my hair up into a messy bun and pinch my cheeks to give them some colour. My lips have cracked from the cold, and the bottom one not only feels sore but looks it. Why can’t I look all sophisticated like Alex’s fiancée Penny? Honestly, couldn’t Jamie have given me some warning that Bryant was coming in today? I’m tempted to phone Issy for advice and then remind myself how disastrous Issy’s advice can sometimes be. No, it is best to follow my instincts on this one. There is no way I can work with Alex Bryant. I give my tights another tug and open the loo door, only to come face to face with him. What is it with this guy and the ladies loo?

    ‘Is this a hobby of yours, or just a bad habit you’re trying to break?’ I say, without thinking.

    ‘I’m having counselling, and I think it’s getting better,’ he replies, grinning at me.

    ‘I’m pleased to hear it,’ I say, feeling myself blush.

I turn and begin walking back to the office.

    ‘I wanted to ask if you were okay after last night. I didn’t want to ask in front of Jamie.’

    ‘I’m fine,’ I say briskly, while feeling stupidly happy to think someone actually does care about my feelings.

    ‘We can have this meeting another day if it helps?’ He is scrutinising my face.

    ‘It’s fine, really,’ I say, wishing he would stop looking at me.

    ‘For what it’s worth, I think Toby’s an idiot.’

His arm brushes mine as he passes and it’s like a hundred volts shoot through me.

    ‘See you in a bit,’ he says softly.

I wait a few seconds, take a deep breath and follow him into the office.

Jamie looks unperturbed when I stroll in, and Alex barely glances at me.

    ‘Right, where were we?’ says Jamie, looking inside the folder desperately.

    ‘I really don’t think I am the right person to represent this particular author. I am sure Mr Bryant would benefit from having an agent that appreciates his work,’ I say as tactfully as I can.

Jamie opens his mouth to speak and from the corner of my eye I see Alex lift his hand.

    ‘I’m sure we can put personal issues to one side, Libby. What do you think?’ he says looking directly into my eyes.

I gulp.

    ‘I fly back to the States tomorrow to wrap everything up. I’ll be back the middle of next week. Why don’t you read the book in the meantime?’ He places the enormous volume, which makes
War and Peace
look like a novella, onto Jamie’s desk. Good God, surely that can’t be full of me, me, me, I’m the master of improvisation and how I fought off a grizzly bear with nothing but a cotton wool bud?

    ‘It’s a collection of dispatches from the time I spent in Cambodia. See what you think and let me have your decision when I get back. I really want to work with this agency. I’ve seen what you’ve done with some of your writers, and I really want you to handle this book and the film rights for
Life in a War Zone
.

He turns to Jamie.

    ‘I’d better run. I’m meeting Penelope for brunch before she flies back. Think about what I said. I really would like Libby to handle things, she has an impressive résumé.’

Surely he cannot be talking about moi. Jamie grins from ear to ear. I nod stupidly while wondering how much one can earn from waitressing. Jamie escorts Bryant to the door and he doesn’t even turn to say goodbye. What an arrogant man. I flop down in the chair again and wait for Jamie to return. He bounces back in with a whoop.

    ‘You don’t seriously expect me to work with him,’ I say petulantly, thumbing through the great tome.

Jamie studies his reflection in the wall mirror. God, what a poof. I have nothing against gays but Jamie takes the biscuit. He strokes his eyebrows several times and finally turns to me.

    ‘You look fab, but I really don’t think you’re his type,’ I say flippantly.

He laughs revealing his well-cared-for teeth.

    ‘Ah, but our next client most certainly is. What the hell was all that about your bloody vibrator by the way?’

I pull a face.

    ‘My electricity bill was huge. I can’t think what has shot it up so much.’

    ‘It’s your heating darling. It’s like the bloody Sahara in your cottage.’

He closes the folder and hands it to me.

    ‘Here is your homework. Everything you need to know about your favourite author. I know you don’t want to do it, but he is the biggest client we have ever taken on. He’s returning home to England, and we are lucky he wants us. The film will be huge. Just try for Christ’s sake. Every other woman is falling at his feet. He is a heart-throb for goodness sake. At least try and…’

    ‘He didn’t even say goodbye,’ I say crossly, picking up my bag. ‘Oh, can you give me an advance, just so I can pay the rent? I’ll bake you some rock cakes.’

He shakes his head, and I feel my face crumple.

    ‘Oh, okay, don’t start bloody crying. Just do me one favour, please don’t walk around my office again like you’ve got a stick up your arse. He must think you spend all your time sitting on your bloody vibrator.’

    ‘I probably will now. Toby and I broke up last night, so Orlando Broom will be my best friend.’

    ‘I thought you got engaged?’

    ‘Well, I almost did; in fact, I probably would have done if it hadn’t been for that arse Alex Bryant.’

Well, let’s face it, everything is his fault. If he hadn’t had caused such upset I wouldn’t have gone outside, and Toby would have stayed at the table with me. The whole Serena thing would not have happened. Damn Alex Bryant. I walk from the office. Jane looks longingly at the book in my hand, and I drop it carelessly onto her desk.

    ‘Here have it. It’s easier for me to watch
Superman the Movie
,’ I say scornfully.

    ‘Don’t you think he is just great?’ she says flicking through the pages and licking her lips. ‘He is so manly and brave.’

    ‘He is just a journalist,’ I reply flatly.

    ‘Matt Rudlin, on his chat show, called him
a modern day hero, a man to inspire
,’ she says dreamily.

I take a step back and look at her.

    ‘Inspires you to do what? Fight grizzly bears? Anyway Matt Rudlin is gay. Come to think of it, gay men do seem to like Bryant. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if all that macho stuff is just a cover for
his
homosexuality,’ I say smugly.

    ‘Oh no, he has a girlfriend. She is lovely.’ Her eyes travel down my body before she adds spitefully, ‘And she is so slim. Really, she has a figure to die for.’

Don’t you just hate women? They are so unbelievably bitchy.

    ‘Really,’ I say sharply and grab the book. ‘Maybe I will read this after all.’

I ignore her gasp and march to my office deciding that waitressing is, in fact, a very good idea indeed.

Chapter Five

    I remember twenty minutes before I am supposed to be there that I had promised to have dinner with my parents. Madam Zigana’s words have not had much of an impact because I’m obviously not looking at the clock enough, or my diary come to that. I had just laboured over a chopped salad and prized open a tin of tuna when I remembered. My mother is bound to have made some wonderful dessert, and she will, of course, expect a cake. I grab the ginger cake I had made for the milkman and jump in the car. I speed my way to my parents while my stomach rumbles at the thought of a roast dinner with crispy roast potatoes. I arrive breathless, late and starving.

Mother greets me dressed for a cocktail party. I greet her looking more like I am dressed for a painting party.

    ‘Good Lord, Libby, what are you wearing? And why are you so breathless, you didn’t forget did you?’ she says grabbing the ginger cake and slamming the front door.

    ‘I’d almost given you up for dead,’ she calls over her shoulder as she hurries to the kitchen.

The aroma of roast lamb reaches my nostrils. Guilt punches me in the stomach. I really should be tucking into my chopped salad and 50 grams of tuna and not indulging in a lamb fest. Oh dear, this will mess up the diet but I guess just one non-dieting day will not make much difference, I can start the diet in earnest tomorrow, although since I’ve split up from Toby there seems little point in dieting now.

    ‘We have some news,’ she announces as I approach the kitchen. Dad sits at the table fixing a tangled mass of wires and fairy lights.

    ‘Have you lost weight?’ he asks hopefully. ‘I must say you are looking jolly good.’

I shake my head miserably.

    ‘You can’t expect people to see your weight loss if you insist on wearing those baggy jumpers. You look like a beached whale in that thing,’ remarks mother as she delicately slices the lamb. ‘Do you have any ideas what you would like us to buy you for Christmas? Your father and I were just discussing it. Would you like one of those fancy weighing scales that do your BMW and stuff? We could also get you a voucher for Debenhams or something. Buy yourself some clothes. I could come shopping with you.’

She gives my jumper a dirty look.

    ‘Don’t you mean BMI?’ I correct, accepting the glass of wine my dad is offering while wondering if I can ask for fifty quid as an early Christmas present.

    ‘You do know there are about a million calories in a glass of wine?’ I say taking a gulp.

    ‘Have one less potato, that’s the idea,’ he smiles and walks into the lounge.

    ‘Or would you like us to pay for someone to staple your stomach?’ asks mother, accepting a small sherry.

Honestly, my parents. I swear someone should have removed me from them when I was five. Still, apart from a bad case of mumps, which mother insisted was a toothache and took me into school every day, I actually came through my childhood surprisingly unscathed.

    ‘What’s the news then?’ I ask, peeping into the fridge to see what dessert is on offer. ‘You haven’t drawn up a bucket list have you and are off to the Himalayas or something?’

Dad hovers in the doorway holding a jug of gravy.

    ‘That was a joke,’ I say quickly.

    ‘Who told you?’ asks mother crossly. I grab the lamb. If food was ever needed then this is the time.