How to Get a (Love) Life (24 page)

Six hours later I was out of the catsuit and back in the office, with most of the make-up still on my face. Caroline was bustling about, having managed to rope her mother-in-law into babysitting. ‘She tried to claim that she had bridge, but I know they only meet on Wednesdays. Honestly, the
witch
.’ She was so distracted, she hadn’t asked where I’d been all day and for that I felt grateful. I was not ready to talk about it. Maybe I never would be.

‘Poor little lamb. I’m glad I have tomorrow off so I can mother him senseless. That always gets him tearing back to school …’

‘Hmm …’

‘He’s already requested his favourite dinner tonight. McDonald’s. But I won’t cave. I won’t, I … Nic? Nicola?’

‘Hmm …’ I murmured, distracted.

‘Are you all right? You’re being strange,’ she said, eyebrows meeting in the middle. ‘Actually, where have you been? And what’s with all the smoky eye make-up?’ she added. ‘Ooh, have you been dating in your lunch break?’

‘No.’ I laughed. ‘No. I, I have to go and see about some office supplies,’ I finished.

‘That doesn’t answer my question about the smoky eyes.’ Caroline frowned. ‘Oooh is the receptionist at the office supplies place good looking? Do you fancy him?’

I ignored her and clicked open my emails.

‘Are you seeing someone involved in selling stationery items?’ she continued, giggling. ‘Are you attracted to a man who knows his compass from his protractor?’

I ignored her again.

There was an email from Lydia. A long and rambling email that explained she’d lost her mobile and hadn’t known our phone number and she’d had a big row with her boyfriend, etc, etc. I scrolled down quickly. She had been worried that he was ‘going to do something stupid’ so she had spent the morning with him, and now – I was
so
relieved to read – ‘they had resolved their issues’. Phew.

I hit ‘Reply’ and assured Lydia that the job had been covered ‘by another actress’. Then I deleted ‘actress’ and replaced it with ‘person’. I finished by saying that I doubted we would be using her again as her behaviour had been unprofessional and made the agency look bad.

Moments later, James appeared in the doorway. His jacket was clean, his shirt was smooth, his eyes were not blurry and drunken.

Caroline looked at him. ‘You’re fine!’ she pointed out.

He cheered. ‘I survived. It’s a first! It’s dry January, which is like Lent or something, so we had mineral water,’ he explained. ‘Incredible.’

He shook his head and walked towards his office. He stopped abruptly at my desk and peered at me. ‘Nicola, you look different.’ He cocked his head to one side.

‘Do I?’

‘Hmm … yeah. Oh, um, Caroline,’ he said, still staring at me. ‘Can you get me the contact info for whoever is in charge of casting at Lime Productions.’

I squirmed in my seat.

‘Shall do, boss,’ she said, spinning around to search on the desk behind her.

‘Good,’ James said, walking into his office. He turned back once more and caught my eye.

‘I’ll help you look,’ I called to Caroline, banging my knee on the desk in my haste to stand up.

The day couldn’t end a moment too soon, and as the clock’s hand clicked round to the ‘6’, I stood up and reached for my bag. James’ voice called from the office. ‘Nicola, can you get in here please.’

Feeling like I’d been summoned to the headmaster’s office, I took a moment to abandon my handbag, straighten my skirt and pull my jumper down.

I pushed open the door to James’ office.

‘Yes?’

James was at his desk, the usual semicircle of paper surrounded him and he was just putting the phone back in its cradle.

‘I’ve just had Glenn on the phone giving me an earful about today. Apparently Lydia was horribly late.’

‘Oh, yes, she was, she was very late,’ I parroted.

‘Late?’ James wrinkled his brow.

‘Yes, but she got there in the end.’

‘She got there in the end?’ He narrowed his eyes.

I shifted my weight to my other foot and pushed the nails of one hand into the other palm.

‘Yes, it was all fine in the end.’

‘So why have I just received a long, emotional email from Lydia begging me not to take her off our books?’ he indicated the screen of his computer.

I was suddenly distracted by something out of the window beyond him. ‘Oh look! A … woman. You very rarely see … those kind of women nowadays …’

‘So who did you send, Nicola?’ he asked. ‘Who did the job?’

‘The job? The job instead of Lydia?’ I said, my voice getting unreasonably loud.

‘Yes,’ James sighed, raking a hand through his hair.

My chest felt tight. My head felt cloudy. Was this what it felt like to have a heart-attack because I might be having one.

‘Um … I …’ I was flailing. I knew I was. All sorts of answers churned over in my mind, followed by humiliating images of me, making a fool of myself in a bright red, skin-tight catsuit.
Be Brave, Nicola. Brave.

‘Who was it? Glenn loved her …’

This information sunk in, slowly, pushed aside the other images in my brain.

Glenn loved her …

‘Oh!’ I exploded. James started in his chair. ‘That’s great, GREAT news.’

I turned to leave.

‘Wait, Nicola, so who was it?’

‘It was … Sam,’ I said, spinning back around. ‘It was Sam. She’s great, just excellent.’

‘Right. Well the agency will be getting the cheque so we’ll need to forward it on to this Sam. I don’t remember her,’ he said, nose wrinkling.

‘Oh, she’s done some other stuff in the past, small things, you know?’ I shrugged, not meeting his eye.

‘Well, thank you – you and this Sam have officially saved my day.’

My palms were slippery but I managed to register his comment and smile. ‘Not at all. And er … is that everything?’ I asked.

‘Yes, that’s great, thanks, Nic. Not a surprise that you had it all sorted. I can’t wait to see the footage, Glenn’s going to forward it on after the edit, so let me know when it arrives.’

I froze in the doorway.

There was a pause.

‘Will do,’ I said, closing my eyes and walking back through to my desk.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

I wasn’t a big drinker but it was days like this when a jug of ‘Singapore Sling’ really was the only thing for it. I shook the ice cubes into the bottom, grabbed the gin from the bottom of the dresser and poured in a good amount. A good amount if I were having a party and four more guests were arriving at any moment. I took the cherry brandy and poured that on top, shook in some Angostura bitters, squeezed a half of lime and threw it in, and then topped up the jug with ginger ale, which instantly fizzed to the top creating a thin layer of foam.

Seizing a hi-ball glass, and with a slightly shaking hand, I poured in the mixture.

Then I put everything on a tray (I was having steak with fried onions – it had been years), walked through to the living room, switched on the television and perched at the table, simultaneously flicking through channels and drinking the cocktail.

As I was scraping the last onion from the plate, and pouring myself a third glass in about as many minutes, my mobile rang.

‘Hey, Mark,’ I answered.

‘Hey yourself. Long day?’

‘You could say that.’

‘Anything unusual happen?’

‘No, just work … the usual. How about you?’ I asked screaming ‘deflect, deflect’ in my mind.

It worked. We covered: Carol, the possible discovery of a new breed of bat in South America (‘Can you imagine, Nic, that guy gets to NAME it!’), and the fact that he had given up drinking for January.

I poured myself a fourth glass, ‘James said that his client is having a dry Ja …’

Mark interrupted with a wolf whistle. I instantly went quiet.

‘Carry on, sis, what did James say?’

‘Nothing,’ I snapped.

‘No really, sis, what did he say?’

‘Well, he said that his—’

Mark whistled again.

‘Mark, stop it.’

‘
What?
I’m just happy for you, sis.’

‘Well, there is nothing to be happy about so stop whistling.’

‘Okay.’

There was a pause.

‘But Jaaaaaammeess clearly said something interesting.’ He started laughing.

‘Mark, stop it, we’re not eleven.’

He stopped laughing. ‘If I’d been born three days later, I would be.’

‘What?’

‘It was a leap year.’

‘What?’

‘So I’d be eleven if I’d been born then.’

‘What?’

‘I’m just saying.’

‘Okay, I’m hanging up on you now, Mark.’

‘Oh fine. So you can go back to Jaaaammm—’

Hanging up the phone, I rested my head back on the cushions. Why was Mark so quick to tease me about James? Had I been speaking about him a lot? I thought back to our conversations at Christmas and in recent weeks. I suppose his name had come up. But surely it was only natural I would talk about him. We worked together every day. We spent a lot of time together. James was with Thalia anyway. I wouldn’t ever get in the way of that.
Idiot brother
.

My ex’s face swum before me once more. A long, straight nose, thick blonde hair, arms wrapped around someone who wasn’t me, someone who I had considered a friend. I blinked as I thought of her now, shiny hair, clothes in bright splashes of colour, a confident laugh, head cocked to one side when I had accused her. Their denials, and then her tears as she admitted everything. That they hadn’t been able to help themselves. That he hadn’t told her he had asked me to marry him.

I clutched the glass in my hand. I had hated him, hated her too and now I was scared that I was becoming her. Thinking about someone else’s man, someone I had no right to think about. I didn’t want to be that girl. Nothing had happened, I told myself. Mark was just making me paranoid. He was teasing.

I flicked through the TV channels and scolded myself for overthinking things. I wasn’t that girl. But I’d be more careful from now on.

Chapter Thirty

It was our annual client’s gathering and I’d been running late all day. Racing home, I jumped into the shower, pulled on an outfit and took some straighteners to my hair. Eyeliner, I thought, as I grabbed the pencil. Eyeliner could sort out all problems. I carefully drew the liner across the bottom of my lashes and grabbed some coral lip gloss to complete the effect. It would do. I called a cab and left the apartment building, with a cheery wave at Julio.

An hour and a half later I was standing around a tall circular table crammed with dirty pint glasses and smiling politely at the collection of people in the room. James had been around all evening but I had skirted around him, refusing to be drawn into conversation and carefully ensuring I kept my distance. Thalia had appeared in a rather agitated state halfway through and I’d seen James usher her outside, where they had gesticulated madly under the canopy. Were they arguing? I scolded myself for spying on them and turned back to the guests.

Some of our clients stayed on late and I played hostess; introducing people and making sure no one was left on their own. I’d momentarily panicked when Caroline had left but they’d all been really friendly and I’d warmed to the role. Later on in the evening, I saw Thalia leaving, James guiding her out with one hand on her back. Catching my eye as he opened the door, I gave him a brief wave. Thalia, fastening up her jacket, followed his gaze and gave me a curt nod.

Then it was just me, in my little black pencil dress and brand-new red heels. A couple of men had attempted to take advantage of my single status earlier in the evening and I was surprised by how unbothered I’d been by the attention. For the last five minutes I’d been answering the questions of a man dressed in jeans and a T-shirt that announced: ‘Don’t Sweat It, Baby’ which, ironically, had large, yellowing sweat patches under each arm. He had very blow-dried hair for a man. He worked in recruitment but played the lute in his free time and liked to dabble in ferret breeding. So, a catch.

I was busy wondering whether to try a Moscow Mule or whether to head home when I thought I heard him say something about the female ferret dying if she didn’t mate.

‘I’m sorry,’ I leant forward, realising I must have misheard.

‘Yes, exactly. She dies!’ he confirmed.

I realised he actually was talking about ferret sex.

I started to look around worriedly for someone to get me out of this mess. Perhaps a helpful barmaid would seek pity on me? No one in the vicinity looked remotely bothered by my predicament and I couldn’t think of a polite way to untangle myself from this man. I didn’t want to be rude but I also didn’t really want the details of—

‘—that can then cause bone marrow suppression, and in certain ferrets this can lead to non-regenerative anaemia, and ultimately death.’

Aggghhh.

Then, as if God himself had answered my call, I saw James push back through the doors of the bar. I didn’t hesitate.

‘James,’ I yelped at him, with a half-wave that didn’t look unlike the last attempt of a drowning woman.

Sweaty Man stopped midsentence, brow furrowed.

‘James,’ I repeated, nodding at him encouragingly as he approached us.

‘James, how
are
you?’ I called, my glare getting more insistent. Sweaty Man, realising he was in no imminent danger, chose that moment to continue his chat.

‘So, you see the female actually
dies
if she doesn’t mate,’ he stressed, a serious glint in his eye and a lingering gaze up and down my body. I shivered.

Then James voice piped up. ‘Oh my God, is that you?’

He moved closer towards me. My shoulders sagged in relief.

He continued, ‘I’m sorry I didn’t recognise you with that … that …,’ he paused, started to flounder. I nodded at him, willing him to continue.

‘That um …. Hair,’ he said pointing at my head.

Good work.

I smiled at him. ‘Oh yes,’ I said, patting my hair. ‘It’s a new look, I decided to … to … clip it back,’ I finished triumphantly.

Sweaty Man stared at my hair, then at James and then at me.

‘It looks nice,’ James continued, leaning in for a hug.