Don't Tell Eve (17 page)

Not really.

Not often.

Not always.

‘And of course there’s poor Kate.’

‘Kate?’

‘Kate – you used to work with her, kids’ books. How soon they forget in the corporate jungle! David, of all people I thought you’d be more sensitive.’

‘No, no, it’s not that, I just wasn’t sure who you meant. How is she, anyway?’ said David anxiously, not wanting to give Zoë the wrong impression. He wasn’t a corporate warrior, that was Phil’s role. He hated the idea that she might think he was and then set up him up with a scary executive-type like … He tried to think of the scariest female exec he knew. Hilary. Eve was frightening, especially when in full flight, but Hilary had sinister on her side. She was the type who’d want to tie a person up and – David shivered at the thought. And not with pleasure.

‘Well, I hadn’t seen her for ages – we don’t exactly mix in the same crowd – and then I spotted her at the shops. She was in the queue in front of me at Kmart, would you believe? Actually, there was a bit of an incident.’ She hesitated. Perhaps now wasn’t the time to say that things were so bad Kate seemed to have been shoplifting, using her angelic boys as decoys – particularly when she was offering the poor woman as a possible squeeze. ‘But not anything big. Anyway,
I thought she needed a bit of cheering up, so I asked her along tonight. She’s around somewhere.’

‘I wouldn’t have thought Kmart was one of your usual haunts, Zoë. I don’t really see you as one of the people.’

‘How
do
you see me?’ asked Zoë, defiantly.

‘How do I
see
you? Well,’ Phil ran his eye achingly slowly down Zoë’s dress.

While Zoë didn’t blush, David, standing next to her, did. Again. ‘Um,’ he said.

‘You’re right, I have a job to do.’ With that, she took David’s elbow and frog-marched him into the fray.

Pleased to have David off his hands and ready for another drink, Phil made his way to the table in front of the kitchen windowsill, which was being used as a bar.

There he found Jack, who had done his duty with Kate, and enjoyed it. He didn’t normally spend time with needy, brittle women, but he couldn’t see why people like Phil complained so much about them.

Once the two had dispensed with football, sailing and surfing, the subject turned to the wayward Alex.

‘So when’s he due back?’ Phil asked.

‘Not sure, he seems to have settled in over there.’

‘You mean he’s thinking of staying in the mountains permanently?’ said Phil, thinking the monastic life seemed an extremely unlikely choice for the party-loving, regularly drug-fucked foody.

‘No, no, not permanently – at least I bloody hope it’s not permanently. Nah, he’ll sort himself and come back soon enough. If nothing else, he’ll get bored with the diet.’

‘In the meantime, I’m guessing his new book is definitely out of the question?’

Jack hesitated, and lost.

‘Shit,’ said Phil. ‘I was really hoping that wasn’t the case.’

‘She’s going to kill me if she thinks I told you – I got into enough trouble last time.’

‘You didn’t tell me.’

‘Not technically, but she’s not going to let me off on a technicality. I can’t believe she hasn’t told you lot yet anyway but, hey, it’s not my business. I just think she’s making life difficult for herself. And …’

‘You’ve really got to get over her, mate.’

‘There’s a reason she hasn’t asked me to move out.’

‘Yeah, she’s using you.’

‘Don’t be so cynical, and it’s okay.’

‘Bloody hell, what you need is —’

Before he could say what it was Jack needed, Zoë approached, smug. ‘Ten minutes – ten minutes, that’s a p.b.’

‘You’re not serious?’ Even Phil was impressed.

‘Totally, I think I’ve found my calling. Don’t you agree, Jess?’

Jess joined them. ‘What?’

‘I’m thinking of opening a matchmaking business.’

‘You’d make more if you were a divorce lawyer.’

Phil gave Jack a meaningful look before turning to Jess. ‘I have a question for you.’

‘Which I might answer.’

‘When were you going to tell us the truth?’

‘The truth?’

‘Exactly what you’re going to do about Alex’s book.’

‘Fuck, Phil,’ said Jack.

‘By “us” I mean your colleagues. You know, the ones at the publishing company, that little place you pop into every day between nine and five or whatever hours it is you work.’ The situation potentially involved losing millions of dollars, and Phil wasn’t the kind of guy to be impervious to the fact that a
loss the size of Alex’s book could have an adverse effect on his bonus. For once, he was serious.

‘When I’d come up with a suitable replacement project.’ Now that it was out, Jess was surprisingly relaxed about it, relieved even.

‘And you don’t think you’re cutting things just a little bit fine?’

‘Oh, don’t sound so shocked. You knew it was unlikely to happen anyway.’

‘I didn’t tell him, he guessed.’ Sometimes Jack couldn’t believe Phil. What was he trying to do? This wouldn’t help his cause.

This is for your own good, Phil didn’t say to Jack.

‘I’ve been waiting for inspiration, but I don’t think this is the ideal venue for this discussion. We can talk tomorrow, Phil – and Jack, I’m heading home. You happy to make your own way?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Zoë, it’s been great, as always.’

Before anyone could ask why Jess was leaving so early, she walked away, passing a man with killer cheekbones as she went. Even without Eve’s hand in his pants, Jess recognised him. ‘Didn’t I see you at a book launch recently at that Russian bar?’ she asked casually. ‘I’m Jess, by the way.’

‘Um, yeah, that’s right. Chris. I’m here with a friend, who I’ve now lost and I d-d-don’t actually know anyone else and I’m not great at the whole s-s-social thing. D-d-don’t know why I said I’d come actually. S-s-stupid really, much rather be at the p-pub.’

His honesty was refreshing among Zoë’s collection of self-assured fashionistas, media types and artistes, and as she admired his bone structure once again, it occurred to Jess that Chris was yet another person to have been screwed by Eve. Though possibly not literally, because if it had been
literally he’d probably still be with Papyrus. Unless he’d performed badly. ‘I know the feeling. I’ve read your book, by the way. Terrific stuff. Really sorry that we’re not going to be publishing it.’

‘Oh. You work at P-p-papyrus then?’

‘Yep, but don’t hold it against me.’

‘And you liked the book?’

‘Shit, yeah, although liked isn’t quite the word I’d use.’

‘Then you
have
read it,’ said Chris. ‘I’ve already had another offer. David introduced me to someone at Zest, so, you know, things could be w-w-worse. Tell me, what did you think about …’ Chris, like most authors, was keen to know what Jess really thought.

She was happy to oblige.

‘I’ve got one more question for you. It’s a sensitive one,’ said Chris when they’d finished discussing his book.

For the first time he seemed embarrassed, and given he’d just managed to talk about some of the most creative sexual practices Jess had ever heard of, yet maintain complete composure and not stutter once, she wondered what he could be about to ask. When he pointed out Zoë, she understood.

Zoë was still with Jack and Phil, animated as ever, throwing back her head and tittering seductively.

‘Who is she? The one in the d-d-dress,’ Chris asked.

‘Our happy hostess.’

‘Oh God, I d-d-didn’t know.’

‘She’s a fashion designer.’

‘Right.’ He continued to stare. ‘She’s r-r-ravishing, isn’t she?’

It wasn’t the first time Jess had been told this, nor the first time she’d been expected to agree. ‘That’s the general consensus. You want to meet her?’

‘I’m not s-s-sure.’

‘What’ve you got to lose? I mean, she might bite but most blokes seem to enjoy that. Follow me.’

Back in the kitchen Phil, Jack and Zoë had devised a plan, one they were convinced wasn’t just a plan but an inspired vision: Jack and Zoë would write a book: a fabulous, flashy, groovy, must-have book that combined the twin gods of food and fashion. At first they’d decided to make Alex write a glowing foreword as punishment for not writing his own book and forcing them to do one instead, but then they’d improved on that idea. Phil would write the foreword and Jack would ensure Alex agreed to sign it.

‘Dress your kitchen: think of your pantry as you would your wardrobe. What do you think?’ Phil asked Jess, as she approached.

Behind her, Chris looked down, asking himself why he’d worn trainers, and whether it was symbolic.

‘You’re pitching me a book idea, right?’

‘I am. A fantastic one,’ Phil said confidently, empty glass in hand.

‘Sounds great.’ As it was clear to Jess that they were all drunk and a new project wasn’t something she wanted to discuss right now, she changed the subject. ‘This is Chris, he’s a mate of David’s and he’s just written a terrific novel which we’re not publishing. Phil, you’ve read it, I think?’

‘Shit, yeah.’ It was one of the few he’d bothered with, fiction not being his area, nor his interest. ‘It’s about …’

‘Okay, I’m really going now.’

While Jess tried once again to extricate herself, Zoë gesticulated to a tall dark-haired figure in earnest conversation with Kate. Nodding back at Zoë, he put his hand on Kate’s shoulder, in a wait-a-minute manner, and tried to approach the object of the gesticulations, but a couple, snogging and oblivious, blocked his way. By the time Oliver managed to get past David and his new companion, Jess had vanished.

The front door was in sight when Jess was assailed yet again, this time by a familiar voice.

‘Well, well, well – Jess Johnson. It’s been a while. What happened to your hair? Which is not to say that I don’t like that whole Jeanne Moreau/Mia Farrow thing you’ve got going. Break up with someone, did you?’

Why was it never possible simply to walk out of a party? And why had Zoë invited Justin? Where had she found him? Jess looked with longing at the door before spinning around. ‘Justin? Pleased to see you’re still with us.’ Justin was a ghost from the past, from Jess and Zoë’s art-school days. Then he’d grown a cash crop to cover the kind of debts that were normally accrued by banks buying businesses, rather than individuals without mortgages. Now everyone had silly debts – Justin had just been ahead of the game.

‘What did you expect?’

Not this alarmingly healthy specimen of manhood, she thought. No longer skinny and sporting a deep moon tan, he now had the kind of plump, smooth-skinned glow that implies either affluence and contentment or regular trips to a needle-wielding beautician, or both.

‘Business going well, is it?’

‘You might say that.’

‘Still in the same line of work then?’

‘Oh that? Nah, just recreational these days, always a bit for friends of course, but I moved on ages ago. The net’s where it’s at these days, so much less work and so many more opportunities.’

‘A little voice tells me I don’t want to know.’

Justin leaned towards her so Jess could smell his rather compelling aftershave. ‘I have two words for you: revenge site.’

‘Oh, okay, that doesn’t sound too controversial.’

‘You haven’t been hit. What say I give you the address, you can check it out? You might want to do it from a public computer though, and I wouldn’t use your own name when you check in.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. ‘You didn’t get this from me.’

‘Oh Christ, it’s not porn, is it?’

‘Please, give me some credit.’

‘Then just tell me.’

‘I have. It’s simple really – if someone needs to be taught a lesson, we can help, using the latest code-breaking technology.’

‘How do you mean “help”?’

He leaned in closer still. ‘Want to have a little fun with someone’s bank account? Their credit rating? Maybe send a text that appears to have come from someone else’s phone? “Had a great time last night, big boy” might sound lame to you but it’s a top seller and works bloody well. I like to see myself as a service provider.’

‘Oh God.’

‘It’s okay, there’s nothing to connect me to it. You could send the police round right now and they’d find nothing, so don’t worry, you’re not an accessory.’ He stepped away, voice returning to its normal level. ‘So, what are you up to? Art or books?’

‘Books, mostly.’

‘Really? I bought a piece recently from that place near The Beached Whale – bloody outrageous price I thought.’

‘Whose work was it?’

‘I thought I recognised the style immediately. Looked just like the kind of thing you used to do, but different, as though it had evolved, as you’d hope.’

‘I haven’t done that kind of work for a long time.’

‘You’ve always been a crap liar. Besides – “JJ”? There can’t be two of you. Come on! You could’ve tried a bit harder than that. Starting with using a different dealer and getting rid of the tag. But you’re an artist, aren’t you? You
want
to be found out, so it wouldn’t make sense if it were too difficult for people like me. Surprised it hasn’t come out yet though, since JJ’s moved on from notoriety to collectability.’

‘Why would I keep using a pseudonym?’

‘I asked myself that question too.’

‘What answer did you come up with?’

‘There’re lots of reasons a person might want anonymity. You’ve got legal – but that’s really more my area. Then you’ve got professional: you might want to keep your careers separate, or you might want to try a different style. It can be difficult when people have a preconceived notion of who you are, what you do. It makes it very uncomfortable for them when you climb out of your little box. I know from experience that people hate having to reconsider their opinions. Then there’s self-doubt, of course – you don’t think your work’s good enough and can’t deal with criticism. Or maybe you’re scared of upsetting someone. Bottom line, in my opinion, is that you’re either weak – or you’re slippery.’

‘Not great alternatives.’

‘There is one more option.’

‘Oh yeah?’

‘It’s a game.’

‘Which do you think it is?’ Jess asked, with what appeared to be amusement.

‘Unless you’ve changed a huge amount —’

‘I’m admitting nothing.’

‘— and I doubt you have because people don’t really change, they just grow into themselves. The way I see it is you wouldn’t want to be inhibited by your day job – celebrities hate competition, don’t they? – and you’ve always been secretive, and the work is outspoken, so it’s got to be a combination of factors. The only one I’d dismiss these days is legal. So, am I right?’

Before he’d dropped out of art school, Justin’s field had been electronic and temporal art, specialising in computer-generated work. This was before computer nerds had taken their revenge on the world and when only geeks sat in front of screens for hours. No wonder the man was glowing. He’d been able to fuse his two loves – computers and money.

‘Why would I tell you if you were? It’d defeat the purpose of having a pseudonym – which is different to remaining anonymous, by the way.’

‘Pedantic as ever, I’m pleased to see. If they’re all going for the price I paid, JJ must be very close to being able to give up her day job.’

‘What makes you think it’s just a day job?’

‘Oh come on, you have a boss, for God’s sake. You’re talking to me, honey. I know you. And I know your work.’

Jess suddenly longed to tell him everything, particularly about the current project. More than most people, he’d appreciate all its aspects. But he was Justin – clever maybe, engaging certainly, but completely untrustworthy; she’d given away too much as it was.

‘So, where is the day job now?’

‘Papyrus.’

‘Oh, I know Papyrus. Went out for a bit with someone who works there now, not my type at all – anorexic philistine. Might
have been fine in my smacked-out period.’ He lit a cigarette, causing a stir. Once he’d passed around the packet and lighter, he continued. ‘You won’t guess how I met her.’

‘No, probably not.’

‘Okay, you remember my sister, who was locked up post-unsuccessful rehab a few years ago?’

‘Yep.’

‘She shared a cell with this woman called Hilary.’

‘You’re not serious?’

‘Fraud, strictly white-collar stuff. Someone had ratted on her.’

‘And she was friends with Bunny?’

‘That’s not the word I’d use, but you know how Bunny talks and she must have mentioned me. When she got out Hilary got in touch. I’m still not sure why. Money, I guess.’

‘What, yours?’

‘Don’t say it like that, I’ve done okay for myself.’

‘So, Hilary?’

‘It didn’t work out. It wasn’t just that she didn’t eat, it was the whole S&M scene. I mean it’s fine for a laugh, but … Well, anyway, I don’t burn bridges – doesn’t make economic sense.’

‘You keep in touch?’

‘I’m useful, if you know what I mean.’

Jess was very glad she’d not confided in Justin and they promised to keep in touch. He was, as he said, useful.

As she drove home, it wasn’t Justin, or even Hilary, she was thinking about, although Justin’s story was illuminating. No, it was the dark-haired guy who’d been standing in the courtyard with Kate, watching her as she’d tried to leave.