I Heart London (6 page)

For a couple of seconds I lay on the floor, dazed, wondering if I’d been hit by a taxi or fallen downstairs and woken up in a coma. Or purgatory. Or out-and-out fire and brimstone, seventh circle of hell. But no, here I was on the floor of Jenny’s apartment, chocolate smeared all over my face and my less than best underwear on display, while my former boyfriend − no, that was too strong a word; former fling − loomed over me in his very best underwear with nothing on his face but a shit-eating grin.

‘Annie?’

Oh, now that was just rude.

Tyler stroked his abs with an absent-minded hand and looked around the apartment with new eyes. ‘I thought this place seemed familiar.’

‘It’s Angela.’ I pushed myself upright and did the best I could to put everything where it was supposed to be. Skirt over knickers, chocolate off face, hair − well, the best I could do was on head. ‘I need to speak to Jenny.’

‘Right, right. English chick. So this is weird, huh?’ he shrugged, still smiling. Actually smiling broader and brighter if possible. What a wanker. ‘She’s in bed.’

I stared hard, willing him to vanish. Willing this not to be happening. Willing myself not to be true to my word and throw up all those chocolates.

‘I guess I’ll jump in the shower,’ he said. His eyes twinkled in a way that, once upon a time, I had found incredibly attractive. At that moment it was all I could do to hold onto my New Year’s resolution to punch fewer people. ‘See you later, Annie.’

As Tyler sauntered off into the bathroom, I was frozen to the spot. My brain was a screaming mess of confusion and, for some reason, I really wanted a wee. But with the bathroom out of action, there was only one thing to do.

‘Get up!’ I ran into Jenny’s room, spotted her sitting on the edge of the bed half dressed, and saw red. I picked up a pillow, flew at my best friend like a Britney scorned and proceeded to bash her about the head with it. ‘Get up. Get out of bed. Get up now.’

‘What? Angela, what the fuck?’ She held her hands up over her face against my sad little assault. I was both weak and feeble. It didn’t take more than a couple of seconds for Jenny to overpower me, grab the pillow and shove me across the bed. ‘Why aren’t you at Vera Wang?’

‘I was at Vera Wang but everyone was so worried about
you
,’ I howled from the floor beside the bed. ‘I said I’d come and get you. But clearly there was no reason to be worried because nothing was wrong, you were just too busy shagging my ex to be there with me while I tried on wedding dresses.’

‘What?’ Even from my position on the floor, which badly needed hoovering, I saw the colour drain from her face.

‘
Worst. Bridesmaid. Ever
,’ I shouted.

‘Seriously, what are you talking about?’ Jenny reached down and pulled me up onto the bed. ‘I was on my way, I swear.’

‘Tyler.’ Suddenly remembering there was someone else in the apartment, I lowered my voice to a hiss and stood up, too angry to sit beside Jenny on the bed. ‘You slept with Tyler?’

‘Uh, the blond guy?’ All the colour she had lost came back in a bright red flush. ‘You know him?’

‘The blond …?’ I went from being incredibly angry to incredibly worried in a heartbeat. With a side portion of pissed-off still hanging around for good measure. ‘Jenny, I used to date him. Remember when I first moved here? Tall? Blond? Sleazy bastard?’

Jenny’s eyes widened to the point where she made Disney heroines look a bit squinty.

‘You?’ I could see her searching for recollection. ‘Tyler. You dated a Tyler. He bought you Tiffany.’

And then I saw her weighing up her options.

‘And he was an asshole.’ Jenny pressed her hands against her face and groaned. ‘I met him in the bar last night. He seemed OK − he was funny. He was hot. I can’t believe it’s your Tyler.’

‘Yeah.’ My nervous energy ran out and I collapsed on the bed beside her. Then remembered what had happened in that bed and jumped back up. ‘Jenny, this is really, really disgusting. As in, I want to have a shower disgusting. Only I can’t because the man we’ve both had sex with is in the shower.’

‘Oh, man.’ She doubled up, dropping her head to her knees. ‘I’m gonna puke. I didn’t know. How could I know?’

‘I suppose you couldn’t,’ I admitted. ‘But when you’ve shagged enough people to accidentally get around to the only other person in the city I’ve slept with aside from Alex, I reckon you’ve probably shagged too many.’

She rested her hands on her thighs, which I noticed were covered in jeans. And she had one sock on. And a tank top. And her phone, on the nightstand, showed the location of Vera Wang on Google Maps. So she really was on her way to meet me. After she’d finished shagging my ex.

‘Angela?’ she said in a soft, quiet voice I hadn’t heard in a long time. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what to do.’

Taking a deep breath and trying very hard not to think about bed-based high jinks, I sat down next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Most of the time Jenny seemed like an Amazon to me, all long legs, shiny hair and glamour, but sometimes, when you took away the high heels and confidence, you remembered how tiny she really was. Right now, without so much as a swipe of mascara or an ounce of confidence, she looked like any other little lost girl with a broken heart.

‘It’s going to be OK,’ I promised, pressing my lips into her hair and not even knowing whether or not it was true. ‘I know things are hard, I know it hurts, but it will get better.’

‘I want it to stop hurting so much.’ Her voice broke with tears as she spoke and it made my heart hurt for her. ‘It’s been so long and it doesn’t change. I thought dating other people would help.’

‘It just takes time,’ I replied, hugging her a little tighter and letting her cry it out on my shoulder. ‘There’s no other answer. I wish there was. And I don’t think rebound dating works. I know. I tried. With the man in the bathroom.’

This wasn’t the time to point out that trolling bars for slut-bags wasn’t the same as dating.

‘Some days I just can’t function,’ Jenny snuffled into my arm. ‘I wake up and it hits me that he doesn’t want me, that he married someone else, and I just cannot get out of bed but I have to, you know? I have to, so I’m just a zombie. I just switch off. And I hate it. I want my life back.’

‘Well, just don’t do what I did and run away to another country.’

All at once, the snuffling stopped and she jolted upright in my arms. Her wet, snotty face was overcome with a lightning strike of an idea I already knew I wasn’t going to like.

‘That’s it,’ she announced, arms out wide. ‘You are so smart!’

‘Thank you?’ I said carefully. I always found that kind of compliment was nice to hear but came at a price. ‘What exactly did I do?’

‘I’m coming to London with you,’ she announced, downgrading my level of intelligence with every syllable. ‘It’s perfect. I need to get away from the city, you need protecting from your mom, your mom loves me, therefore I’m coming to London. With you.’

Now, it was true that my mum loved Jenny. When we were living together, the two of them spent a lot longer talking on the phone than I did. For some reason, suburban mother-of-one, Su Doku-lover, Marks & Spencer acolyte and lifelong subscriber to
Take a Break
magazine had found a soul mate in the
Vogue
-reading, Agent Provocateur-wearing, Angry Birds-loving Jenny Lopez. She was the daughter she had always intended to have. While my mum and I got along just fine, she had always been a bit disappointed that I wasn’t more of a girly girl. I’d never wanted ballet lessons, to play the flute or play with prams, pushchairs and baby dolls, even though they were forced upon me. I’d wanted to ride horses and learn guitar and read
The Secret Garden
until my eyes were sore, not sit and drink tea nicely with the Avon lady. She’d always adored ladylike Louisa and hoped she might influence my ways, and I genuinely believed the main reason she hadn’t flown directly to New York and marched me straight onto a plane two years ago was because she was hoping some of Jenny’s feminine super-powers would rub off on me. And they kind of had. I could walk in heels and not fall down (most of the time), I knew how to apply eyeliner without looking like a tranny or a member of Kiss, I could tell anyone why a Chanel 2.55 handbag was called a 2.55, and I had an uncontrollable, burning desire to possess one. I was quite the success as a woman these days, and a lot of that was due to Ms Jenny Lopez.

So it all worked aside from the fact Jenny’s plan had one major flaw.

Alex.

Jenny and Alex were the two most important people in my life − my New York family − and while they were friendly when their paths happened to cross, I had learned my lesson and tried to keep them away from too much one-on-one time or unnecessarily intense situations. I loved them both and they both loved me, but each other? Love might be slightly too strong a word. It was one of the few things that fell outside our overshare pact, but I knew for a fact that Alex thought Jenny was a drama queen who brought most of her misery on herself. And Jenny, as my best friend and ultimate defender, kept Alex on a short leash just in case he ever, ever did anything to hurt me. It was a time-honoured relationship between boyfriend and bestie and we handled it just fine. But bringing Jenny along on a trip that already promised to be more painful than a girl’s first bikini wax?

‘It’ll be awesome.’ Jenny wiped her tears away on the back of her arm and offered me the beginnings of a smile. ‘You can show me London, I can meet Louisa, I’ll totally take all the pressure off the parentals so you and Alex can take time to hang out. It’ll be so great.’

Not for the first time, I was completely lost for words. And not for the first time, I was completely unable to disguise the fear on my face.

‘Angie, honey.’ Just like that, Jenny was back. Her face shone and her eyes sparkled with conviction. ‘I won’t be any hassle and it’s what I need. An escape, you know? Space. Time. Just a few days to breathe and empty my head.’

I sighed and nodded. How was I supposed to say no when she’d pulled me out of exactly the same situation two years ago? Besides, it was impossible to look at those big brown Lopez eyes and not give in. I often worried about what would happen if Jenny ever decided to use her powers for evil.

‘Oh my God, I love you.’ She bounced up onto her knees and pushed me backwards, showering me in kisses. ‘I love you so much.’

‘Am I interrupting?’ Tyler’s voice rang out across the room, causing one sick feeling in my stomach to make way for another. I looked over to see him leaning against the door frame, a towel wrapped low around his hips. Given that my sexual CV was incredibly brief, I’d never been in a situation where I’d been in the same room as someone I’d boffed and broken up with and so I had no idea how I was supposed to be feeling. All I knew for sure was that I really, really wanted him to be gone. Preferably with a black eye. And a ruptured scrotum.

‘So, is this a private party or can anyone get in on this?’ he asked with a raised eyebrow, arms folded across his ridiculously hot body. Arsehole. How dare he stand there with his abs out. ‘This is weird, right?’

‘It’s weird,’ Jenny and I replied in unison.

‘So would it be more weird or less weird −’ he started to move towards the bed − ‘if the three of us, you know …’

I had no words. Literally no words. But Jenny, luckily for me, was full of them.

‘I don’t know.’ She stood up and pulled Tyler’s trousers out of the pile of clothes at the foot of the bed. ‘But I do know you’re not putting these on right now.’

Jenny smiled. Tyler grinned. I grimaced. And then Jenny walked over to the window, opened it up and threw his trousers out into the street. ‘Hey, Angie, toss me his shorts.’

It was hard to say who was more shocked. Tyler’s jaw dropped at exactly the same moment as his towel, but now his nudity wasn’t nearly as entertaining as the fact that Jenny was very busy throwing all of his clothes out onto 39th Street. You had to laugh. So I did. Long and loud and hard.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ he demanded when he finally found his voice. ‘Are you fucking crazy?’

Jenny dangled a very expensive leather loafer over the sill and cocked her head to one side. ‘Wanna find out?’

Out went the shoe.

‘Jesus.’ Tyler looked at me, grabbed his towel and shook his head. ‘You’re both insane.’ And with that, he ran out of the bedroom and out of the apartment.

By the time he made it onto the street, a homeless guy had already claimed his shirt and shoes, but fortunately, given the New York City decency laws, his underwear and jeans were still a crumpled mess on the sidewalk. Jenny and I leaned out of the window and waved down at him as he shuffled into them, flashing his backside to passers-by. Elbows on the windowsill, Jenny and I turned to look at each other.

‘So − London then?’ I smiled.

‘London,’ she replied with a grin.

‘I’m here, I’m here.’ I threw myself through the glass doors of the
Gloss
office the following Friday, late as usual. For some reason, I’d decided not to waste money I didn’t have on a taxi and had taken the subway, despite the fact that I had two suitcases and the world’s biggest carry-on bag. Well, maybe not the world’s biggest, but definitely not one of the smallest. I could easily steal Beyoncé’s baby and carry it off in this bag. Which I totally would.

‘Did I miss anything?’

‘Just the coffee run.’ Mr Spencer was sitting in my leather chair, a small smile on his face. It had been so long since I’d seen that smile that I actually shrieked in surprise. Bollocks. Yes, I was late into the office, but I wasn’t late for the meeting. Why was he early? Who was ever early? Arses. ‘I hear you’re off to London, Ms Clark?’

‘I am,’ I nodded, attempting to regain my composure. And failing. ‘It’s my mum’s sixtieth.’

He stood up and gestured for me to sit down. Which was nice of him, given that he was in my seat in the first place.

‘I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to you, ladies,’ he said, striding across our tiny office in two steps and settling himself on the edge of Delia’s desk. For an older gent, Bob Spencer was still well put together, like he’d reached a certain age and decided he was just going to stick with that. He always reminded me a little bit of Ken Barlow, but less evil. ‘Things are very busy right now, as I’m sure you can appreciate. The industry is going through a very difficult time.’