Divas (22 page)

He hung up. Lola stared at the phone in disbelief. And then she jumped up and ran into the bedroom to start pulling her clothes out of Madison’s wardrobe and into her suitcases. She had
never been in the Van der Veer suite at the Plaza before; when she and Jean-Marc were together in New York they had always stayed at a downtown boutique hotel. But considering how rich the Van der
Veers were, there had to be at least four bedrooms in a family suite.

Besides, Jean-Marc owed it to her to take her in. He had, after all, humiliated her in all the British, American and European tabloids. A bedroom at the Plaza was the least he could give her in
return . . .

Oh, the bliss of getting out of a cab at the Plaza and having the doorman instantly whisk all her cases out of the trunk and onto one of those gold metal trolleys as she trod
up the carpet into the beautiful foyer, another doorman holding the door open for her obsequiously, the concierge coming forward to say that Mr van der Veer had rung down to say that she was on her
way and to go straight up, her luggage would follow by the service elevator . . . She felt like Lola Fitzgerald again, rich, privileged, spoilt, and it was simply wonderful.

When Jean-Marc, waiting for her at the door of the suite, dragged her inside, she could see instantly that there would be more than enough space for her here. Through the door of the living-room
she could see rooms upon rooms stretching away, like a kaleidoscope when you twist it and it shows you endless variations of the same object: bedrooms, sitting-rooms, as far as the eye could see,
all done up in luxurious shades of beige and gold and dull reds, muted and tasteful.

‘It isn’t really
us
, ’ Jean-Marc admitted, taking her hand and leading her to an enormous, over-stuffed sofa, ‘it’s a bit
classic
and
old-school
, but darling, it’s
insanely
comfortable.’

They sank into the sofa, still holding hands.

‘Now have some champagne, ’ Jean-Marc continued, ‘we’ve got so much to toast!’

He reached for a bottle of champagne, which was nestling in a big silver ice bucket, along, Lola noticed, with two others still unopened.

‘Are you supposed to be drinking?’ she couldn’t help asking.

Jean-Marc giggled. He looked great, she had to admit. His skin was lightly tanned and smooth, the whites of his eyes were as clear as ever, and his pupils weren’t dilated, the telltale
sign of drug use. His golden hair was pushed back from his face in a careless series of curls, and his blue eyes danced with happiness. She thought, too, that he had put on a few pounds, which
definitely suited him: in the last days in London he had been too thin, which in retrospect had clearly been the drugs devouring him, taking away his appetite.

‘I’m drug-free, ’ he announced, pouring her a glass and topping up his own. There was a third flute of champagne, half-drunk, which Jean-Marc refilled too. Lola parted her lips
to ask whose it was, but Jean-Marc overrode her; he was in full flow. ‘I can’t give up
everything
, my God, that would be so boring! And besides, Lola, I had the biggest
breakthrough. The
biggest
. I have to thank Niels so much, I should get down on my knees and thank him every day for sending me to that horrible place—’

‘You should certainly get down on your knees, darling, ’ said a new voice with a light American accent. ‘Whether it should be to your brother, though, is a whole different
story.’

‘David!’ Jean-Marc jumped up, picking up the third glass. ‘Darling! Here, we’re toasting!’

The man had emerged from a door in the foyer which, from its placement, must be a bathroom. From Lola’s vantage point on the sofa she had a good view of him: slim, hyper-elegant, with
slicked-back black hair, dark as paint, and eyes even bluer than Jean-Marc’s. He was wearing a tight long-sleeved navy T-shirt with faint embroidery over one shoulder, jeans snug enough to
leave it in no doubt on which side he hung, and a belt with a diamanté buckle. He took the proffered glass and wrapped his arm around Jean-Marc’s waist, so that they both faced Lola, a
matched pair, one blond, one dark, blue-eyed and smiling with elation.

‘Lola, darling, this is David!’ Jean-Marc announced delightedly. ‘My
boyfriend!
Oh Lola, I’ve come out! I’m gay! Isn’t it
wonderful?
’

And the boys turned to each other in unison, as if choreographed, and kissed, a long passionate kiss, their champagne glasses meeting simultaneously with a clink that rang like a pair of tiny
bells.

L
ola got up, of course, glass in hand, to embrace the happy couple, and there was much hugging and toasting and clinking of glasses and general
rejoicing before they all sat down again, David and Jean-Marc curled together on the big sofa, Lola in a very generously sized armchair.

‘I ordered some food, ’ Jean-Marc said. ‘Sushi, and edamame beans and strawberries for you, darling.’

David looked baffled.

‘No, not you!’ Jean-Marc giggled. ‘My
other
darling. Lola exists on edamame beans and strawberries.’

‘And sashimi, ’ Lola added.

‘God, you must be hungry
all the time
, ’ David exclaimed.

‘I am, really, ’ Lola admitted.

‘So! I’ll tell you everything, and then you tell me everything!’ Jean-Marc said happily. He cuddled up against David, who started stroking his blond curls. Lola felt a sudden
wave of jealousy: this was exactly how she and Jean-Marc used to sit, curled up together, caressing each other like puppies or kittens who lick and groom each other continually.

‘Are you OK with all this, Lola?’ David asked. ‘I mean, it must be quite a shock for you.’

Lola noted he was acute enough to have picked up on her change of mood, and gave him points for that.

‘Actually, I am, ’ she said, knowing it was true, despite her wash of envy at seeing Jean-Marc in someone else’s arms. ‘Honestly, as soon as Jean-Marc said he was gay, I
thought:
Well, of course you are! Why didn’t any of us realise it before?
’

‘Oh my God, that’s
exactly
how I felt.
Exactly
, ’ Jean-Marc said, drinking some champagne. ‘I mean, all that stuff with Patricia—’ he looked
guiltily at Lola. ‘I’m so sorry again for dragging you through all of that, Lo. I mean, coming out’s one thing, but all that scandal, the overdose, the tranny
stuff—’

‘And not even a pretty tranny!’ David chimed in. ‘A pig-ugly one! I mean,
honestly
, Jean, what were you
thinking?
’

Jean-Marc sighed deeply.

‘Darling, we’ve been through this, ’ he said, reaching up a hand to stroke David’s, which was resting on his shoulder. ‘You heard me say it in group. I wasn’t
thinking. It was all just blind panic and running away from my problems. Running away from my sexuality. I hated myself, and I hated the fact that I was about to get married – sorry,
darling—’

He glanced apologetically at Lola, who flipped a hand to indicate that he shouldn’t worry on her behalf. She noticed, as she did so, that her manicure was badly chipped. Well, that
wouldn’t be a problem any more. She could afford any beauty treatment she needed. Lola wriggled in her chair with pure pleasure at the thought.

‘I mean, if I had to marry anyone, any woman, I mean, ’ Jean-Marc continued, ‘it would be my darling Lo.’

‘Oh God yes!’ David agreed. ‘I mean, look at her! She’s so beautiful! And you could have so much fun dressing her up – she’s like a gorgeous little doll, and
her boobs and ass aren’t big, she could wear
anything
—’

‘I
know
, ’ Jean-Marc said. ‘I used to dress her up all the time, it was so much fun . . .’

They both tilted their heads to the side and stared approvingly at Lola, David’s dark head resting on Jean-Marc’s blond one, two pairs of blue eyes beaming at her.

‘You can still buy me clothes and dress me up, ’ she assured them. ‘I’ve only got three cases with me.’

‘Oooh, shopping for girls’ shoes!’ David sang, clapping his hands. ‘My
fave
thing in the world!’

A few doors down, someone was moving around the suite; it was the bellhop, leaving Lola’s cases.

‘Would you give him a twenty from my wallet, darling?’ Jean-Marc said to David. ‘And tell him to send up housekeeping to unpack for Lola? Thank you, darling.’

As David jumped up to carry out these instructions, Jean-Marc readjusted himself, sitting up straighter. He was in his usual outfit of fitted silk shirt over slim jeans and suede loafers;
Eurotrash style converted so well to gay-about-town that he hadn’t needed to change his look at all when he came out.

‘David’s a godsend, ’ he said fervently. ‘He saved me. Really, he saved my life.’

‘So how did you meet?’ Lola asked, finishing her champagne and reaching for a cigarette. ‘I still don’t understand why you’re not in rehab—’
and,
frankly, why it’s OK for you to be drinking
, she wanted to add. But she thought it best to take one step at a time. As it were.

‘We met in rehab! That’s the amazing thing! I was such a wreck when I arrived – well, you
saw
me. Was it only last week?’ he reflected. ‘My God, I
can’t believe it. It feels like an eternity, so much has
happened
. . . Anyway, I arrived quite late at night and they put me in a room by myself, but the next day they woke me up for
group at some frighteningly early hour—’

‘Nine in the morning, godawful, ’ David said, re-entering the room.

‘
So
, ’ Jean-Marc continued, ‘I walked into the room where group was – God, I
tottered
, I was barely walking – and there he was. A blue-eyed angel in
tight jeans. I looked at him and he looked back at me and I just
knew
. I mean, all pretence was gone by this time. And also, to be totally frank, as soon as I laid eyes on David I got the
most enormous hard-on.’

David, on the hotel phone ordering food, collapsed with a fit of giggles and had to apologise to the person he was talking to.

‘So I mean, I knew I was gay at
that
point, ’ Jean-Marc said so seriously that Lola got the giggles too.

‘I should say so, ’ she commented. ‘Did you get a hard-on too, David?’

‘
Gigantic
, ’ David mouthed, still on the phone, holding his hands a foot apart to indicate its size.

‘So there we were!’ Jean-Marc said. ‘Just in mad, total lust! And it was perfect, because it was literally the first thing I said in group – not that I was totally in
lust with David, of course, but that I was gay. And it was the first time I’d ever said it, naturally, and everyone clapped. I was terrified, but it was the proudest moment of my
life.’

‘I was so proud of you!’ David said, his call finished, plopping down on the sofa behind his lover. ‘
So
proud! I just wanted to run over and kiss you then and
there.’

‘It didn’t take us long, did it?’ Jean-Marc said smugly.

‘After lunch I cornered him in the smoking area, ’ David added happily.

‘He said if I needed any practical help he was there for me, ’ Jean-Marc smiled.

‘Ooh, I was smooth, wasn’t I?’ David said.

‘I didn’t know you could have sex in rehab, ’ Lola said.

The boys rolled their eyes in unison.

‘You’re not supposed to, ’ Jean-Marc said, ‘but I just couldn’t keep my hands off him. It was amazing. David’s my drug of choice now, ’ Jean-Marc said
happily. ‘I’m addicted to David. And I realised, once I’d come out, everything was all right!’

‘I’m so happy for you both, ’ Lola assured them. ‘And I’m really fine with Jean-Marc coming out, and us not getting married, because honestly, I look back and I
wonder, what was I
thinking
? No offence, Jean-Marc—’

He shook his head fervently, his golden curls dancing, to show that none was taken.

‘But I knew, ’ she continued, ‘I
knew
deep down it wasn’t what it was supposed to be. No matter how happy we were.’

‘Oh darling, we were
so
happy!’

Jean-Marc stretched out a hand to her, and she came out of her seat to take it. He pulled her towards him, till she was sitting on the sofa too, and the two boys adjusted to make room for her,
so they were all curled up together. Jean-Marc’s hand came up to stroke her hair, and David smiled sweetly down at her, and it was all so lovely, so welcoming, so safe, after all her
struggles, that she burst into floods of tears.

Jean-Marc, who cried at the drop of a hat, at the sight of a cute puppy in the street or even the mention of a sad film, started sobbing too, and though David didn’t actually cry (which
Lola was grateful for, as she would have considered it a bit hypocritical, considering that her and Jean-Marc’s tears were mourning their dreams of a life together as the perfect heterosexual
golden couple) he hugged them both, and mumbled nice things, and got up to get them both tissues, and opened the door to the room service person who was bringing their food.

‘Oh dear, ’ Jean-Marc said eventually, wiping his eyes. ‘We could still have our lovely golden children, Lola, if you want.’

‘Oh, that would be fantastic!’ David cried, tipping the room service person from Jean-Marc’s wallet. ‘They’d be the prettiest kids in the whole world!’

‘I’ll think about it, ’ Lola promised, smiling as she dried her face. ‘God, I must look like a wreck.’

‘You
are
a little puffy, ’ David said honestly.

‘We’ll get someone in to give her a facial, ’ Jean-Marc said. ‘And anything else you want, Lo. What do you want? Just say the word. I owe you so much. I’ll never be
able to repay you for letting you down like that. The wedding being cancelled. And all that awful, awful stuff in the press.’

‘I need a lot of money, ’ Lola said simply. ‘For lawyers. And somewhere to stay.’

‘
Mi casa es su casa
, ’ David said, laying out the food on the coffee table in front of the sofa, so no one had to get up. ‘Well, it’s Jean-Marc’s
casa
, technically, but I don’t know how to say “his” in Spanish.’

‘Not “his”, “ours”. It’s
nuestra
, ’ Jean-Marc said fondly. ‘
Nuestra casa
, darling. Our house. Stay as long as you want, Lo.
You’ve got a whole suite down at the end, you never need to see us if you don’t want to. And I’ll get a card made for you on my account. I’m getting one for David,
too.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘At least
I
haven’t had my trust fund cut off by my awful stepmother!’