Getting Even (14 page)

It was as though Ivy could read her mind. “Did you see much of Dan?”

Orianna couldn't lie. “We spent quite a lot of the weekend together.”

“I presume he didn't go shopping with you—I can't imagine any man keeping pace once you get going.”

Orianna hesitated. She'd no desire to ram her happiness down Ivy's throat, and shopping was a pastime they'd enjoyed together. Nonetheless, she couldn't believe Ivy would see this as a threat, and she was sick of subterfuge. Recent experience had confused her; she was no longer sure where discretion ended and deception began. She admitted, “Actually, Dan came with me.”

“A whole day of shopping?”

Orianna colored. “Yeah. He seemed to enjoy it, funnily enough.”

“Well I never.” Ivy leaned back in her chair. “That's a first. A straight man who likes shopping. Are you sure he's not gay?” She laughed lightly.

Orianna recollected their lovemaking. “Quite sure.”

*   *   *

That afternoon, Orianna was primping in the ladies' room. She was due to interview Cassie Goldworthy—a fact she must remember to mention to Ivy, once they'd finished an urgent brief—and wanted to look the part. As she was fluffing her hair, her colleague, Ursula, emerged from one of the cubicles.

Ursula examined herself in the cruel florescent light. “God, I look like shit.”

“No you don't,” said Orianna. She'd always thought Ursula good-looking in an unconventional way, with her straight dark hair and pointy features. Orianna particularly envied her slender frame.

Ursula unzipped her makeup bag—“It's kill or cure”—and twisted up a dark red lipstick. “Hey, you know something?” Even though her mouth was contorted for the application, she never wasted a moment's talk time.

“What?” Orianna examined her makeup. Mm, it was fine. Any more would be overload. And she mustn't get too caught up with Ursula; she had to tell Ivy about Cassie …

Ursula checked behind her to ensure the stalls were empty. “I-heard-a-great-bit-of-gossip-the-other-day.”

For all the trouble she'd been in lately, Orianna couldn't resist the bait. “Yeah? What?”

“About Dan.”

Oh, thought Orianna. Ursula must have discovered we're going out. Word spread easily on the grapevine. Still, she'd worked with Ursula for years, and they'd forged a friendship built on mutual respect. Orianna would have told her personally soon enough.

“You'll never guess.”

Odd way to broach the subject, thought Orianna. “What?”

Ursula was busy concentrating on her own appearance. “Apparently he was seen at G-A-Y.”

Orianna frowned. “What's G-A-Y?”

“A club.”

“So?”

“A
gay
club.”

Orianna remained mystified. Dan had a couple of gay friends—Rob, for instance. So he could have gone with him, though why hadn't he mentioned it? “I don't understand what you're driving at. Lots of people go to gay clubs.”

“Wouldn't mean anything,” Ursula leaned closer, “except he was clocked
snogging
someone.” She looked at Orianna, but read her shocked expression as mere surprise. “You don't get it, do you? Honey, sometimes you can be so naïve!” Ursula stopped, then delivered the punch line. “A
guy
.”

“Oh!” This couldn't be. It was almost laughable. “Who told you that?”

“Someone…” Ursula wrinkled her nose, trying to remember. But she rode her days at such full speed such details easily slipped her mind. “I can't recall who told me first. But everyone knows. I always thought Dan was a bit of a one, but
men
, I don't know.” Orianna was speechless, but no matter. Ursula was talking again. “Apparently-it-was-a-while-ago-but-they-were-seen-leaving-together-so-they-probably … you know …
did it.
” At that moment her mobile rang. “Ursula speaking,” she said, mouthed “Catch you later,” at Orianna, and departed to take the call.

Orianna was left staring into the mirror, stunned.

*   *   *

At six thirty Dan popped his head around the partition.

“Hiya, girls.”

“Hiya,” in unison.

“Coming for a drink?”

Orianna spoke first. “You go ahead. I'll join you in a while.”

“Typical.” Dan raised his eyes to the heavens. He turned to Ivy. “Show this girl how to have a good time, will you?”

“I'm afraid I can't.” Best be gracious, thought Ivy. “But thanks for asking.”

“Aw, go on, just one. It's my birthday.” Dan grinned, his face all boyish persuasion. At moments like this Ivy had to admit he
was
pretty attractive. The way his dark hair tumbled forward in defiance of grooming, the way his eyes creased up in the corners, the way he laughed, deep and loud. Not her type at all, but she could see what Orianna saw in him.

Still, she owed him no favors. “Birthdays are for mourning, not celebrating,” she said. “I'm afraid I'm already meeting someone.”

“Ask them along,” suggested Dan.

“I couldn't do that. We're meeting at their place.”

Dan shrugged, defeated. “Well, we're off now.” He turned to Orianna. “Catch you down there—we'll be at the Pillars of Hercules.”

Orianna grunted and went back to her Mac.

Ivy checked her watch. If she was going to make it in good time she'd better leave. She opened her handbag. A rapid reapplication of lipstick (she could apply it perfectly without a mirror), a swift brush of her hair (the electricity crackled and sparked), a swoosh of perfume (a gift from Ed), and she was set. Her portfolio was in the trunk of the car.

“You smell nice,” said Orianna, glancing up.

“Thanks. Better dash. See you tomorrow.”

“Have a lovely evening.”

As Ivy rounded the corner to reception a girl pushed open the door. She was lugging a huge portfolio, so Ivy calculated she must be some sort of creative. What a coincidence, thought Ivy. She comes in for an interview as off I go for mine.

She gave her the swift once-over. Early to mid twenties, younger than Ivy was—bad. Bleached-blond hair that Ivy judged from her brows was naturally dark—tacky. A tan—passé. A round, pixie face—annoying. And petite—
unforgivable
.

She also looked lost. The receptionist appeared not to be around and Ivy was curious to find out more. “Can I help you?”

“Oh … er … yes please.” Ivy detected a twang—Aussie?—she wasn't sure. “I'm afraid I'm ever so early. I'm not due till seven.”

“Never mind,” said Ivy. “I'll let whoever you're meeting know you've arrived. Take a seat.”

“Oh thanks.” She sounded relieved. “My name's Cassie. Cassie Goldworthy.”

“And you're here to see…?”

“Some funny name—oops, I shouldn't say that, should I?” She giggled. Ivy was reminded of that girl in accounts Russell had fancied and Dan had shagged—what was she called? Lara. Cassie rummaged in her bag. Pathetic, thought Ivy. She could have clarified the interviewer's name before getting here. “It began with an O…”

“Orianna?”

“Ah, yes, that's her.”

So Orianna hasn't even got her feet under the creative director's desk and she's interviewing staff, noted Ivy. More to the point, she's doing it on the sly. And if my hunch is right, this Cassie is a junior creative. Orianna's entitled not to tell me, but this wouldn't have happened before her promotion. Then we'd have seen prospective candidates together … Further evidence of a rift between us. Ivy kept her tone innocent. “Are you a creative then?”

“Yes. An art director.”

Bingo! thought Ivy. I wonder what her work is like. She was just about to connive a peek at her portfolio when the receptionist returned.

“Ah, Philly, there you are. So Cassie, I'll leave you here. I'd best be on my way.”

*   *   *

Orianna liked Cassie at once. Trixie was right, her portfolio was very good. They chatted for about an hour, covering agencies where Cassie had worked, where she saw herself going, and what she felt were her strengths and weaknesses, but Orianna was convinced within the first five minutes she was worth hiring. She felt bad that she'd forgotten to mention the interview to Ivy, still, she'd been terribly preoccupied with that silly bit of gossip of Ursula's, and all the work they'd had that afternoon …

Not to worry, she decided as she cut across Soho Square to meet Dan, Ivy doesn't know I've interviewed Cassie, so no harm done. I'll discuss it with her in due course. As for Dan being gay, well that's just crazy.

She pushed open the door of the Pillars of Hercules. The atmosphere hit her at once—rowdy, crowded, jovial. The pub was small and low-ceilinged, with none of the pretensions of Cassio's or Lucifer's. Here people drank pints not cocktails, and you were lucky if the wine passed muster. Little surprise it was a favorite of Dan's.

Clustered tightly around a table on a platform at the back were her colleagues: Neil—now that his resignation was public he could work his final days in a relaxed state and he'd been enjoying more long lunches and early evening bevvies than ever; Dan's coworkers in production, Earl and Esme; Leon, who was in Orianna's opinion the most talented designer in the studio; and Gavin, who'd come along to prove he wasn't a step removed from the rest of the agency as a member of the board, though in fact he was, and everyone else would have felt more comfortable had he been absent.

Orianna fetched herself a drink, squeezed into a chair next to Dan, and joined in the discussion. They were in the midst of a debate about reality TV—“publicity-seeking idiots have got what's coming” (Dan, who'd already downed a couple of pints) versus “no one deserves to have their sexual incompetence splashed across the tabloids” (Orianna, swiftly taking up the baton as she was sober) when someone stumbled up the steps behind her and grabbed her chair for support. A helpless giggling interspersed with hiccups followed.

Oh no. Orianna winced. I'd know that giggle anywhere. She turned and took in the long, fair hair of Lara, from accounts.

Dan pulled up a stool. “Seat?”

“Yeth pleathe,” said Lara.

Jesus, thought Orianna, she's at lisping stage already. Right then she missed her copywriter: she could rely on Ivy to have a good snipe. Instead hissing at Dan had to suffice. “Who asked her?”

“I did.”

Worse and worse. Hadn't Dan been seeing Lara at one stage—how could he be so tactless?

Carried away by beer and birthday buoyancy, he failed to notice how miffed she was and held out his wrist. “Hey everyone, seen my new watch?”

There was a collective cooing and gasping.

“Who gave you that?” asked Lara. She took his hand and peered closely at the face. Orianna prickled. “Ooh, Paul Thmith. How flath.”

Flash? seethed Orianna. It's not “flash” at all—it's
classy.
That Dan didn't pull away from physical contact made her fume more.

Dan glanced at her but his ability to pick up silent signals appeared to be malfunctioning, for despite Orianna's please-shut-up-it-will-embarrass-me vibe, he grinned proudly. “Orianna.”

“Oh!” squealed Lara, and dropped his hand as if it would scald her. It landed on the table with a thud, as had, it seemed, Dan's confession.

“You
are
an item then?” said Earl, eventually.

“Yes,” said Dan.

“I knew it,” said Esme smugly.

“How long have you been together?” asked Earl. “No, let me guess.”

“Since Easter,” interrupted Gavin, keen to sound clued in.

“Since February,” said Esme.

“Since Christmas,” clarified Dan. Under the table he squeezed Orianna's knee.

“Stone me,” said Leon. “I'm well out of date, mate. I thought
you
two were shagging.” He nodded at Lara.

Orianna reeled.

Lara giggled.

“Us?” Dan sounded surprised, yet, thanks to several pints, unfazed. “Oh no. Not since last autumn.”

“Ooh Dan,” piped up Lara. “It wathn't that long ago.” Another titter. “It was about thixth months.”

Six months! For someone who works in accounts she's got a lousy head for figures, thought Orianna. Dan began to stroke Orianna's thigh more keenly. If he meant to indicate she was the one he was interested in, it merely irritated her further.

“Thweetheart, I'm thorry to have to correct you”—another titter—“but it was definitely latht winter. At the Image Focuth Chrithmath party.”

Orianna started. Image Focus was a retouching house and invitations to their annual bash were limited to those in production, so Dan must have invited Lara. More importantly, it had only been the night before the Christmas party where
she'd
got together with him.

I remember it distinctly, she thought, because I was impressed Dan had the stamina for two parties in succession. Well, bloody hell, it seemed like he had the stamina for more than that! Ugh! Lara of all people!

Dan was still fondling Orianna's thigh, oblivious, and she pulled away at once. Coping with his full public admission of their relationship and Lara's revelation was a lot to take. But with Lara wedged in too, shifting her chair would be impossible, so she lifted Dan's hand from her leg and got to her feet. “Just going to the loo,” she muttered.

Once inside the cubicle she locked the door and sat down. At least here she could get some privacy, although her thoughts were racing too fast for her to be able to pee.

Hmm … Insofar as I can remember, Dan didn't directly
lie
regarding Lara, she rationalized. I guess I never asked outright about timings, because I was happy with his assurance their fling meant little and was over. Nonetheless, he kept the truth from me. Surely it's important to put a bit of space between different women? A healthy gap indicates a new relationship is the result of clear decision-making, and makes it more special. To go straight from Lara to me is at best impulsive, at worst sordid.