Jemima J. (36 page)

And I still can’t put my finger on it, and I want it to be right, I want it so badly to be right, so most of the time I try not to think about it. I know I said those things about him being stupid, but, as Geraldine said, that’s not it. I just have this feeling that this can’t be real, this is like a play, like a couple of actors, but maybe that’s my insecurity kicking in. Maybe it’s just that I can’t believe someone this gorgeous could love me. Plain old Jemima Jones.

But you see, every now and then I catch Brad sitting, staring at nothing, and he looks as if he’s in another world, miles away, thinking about someone else, and even though when I interrupt these reveries of his he’s all over me, covering me with kisses which usually end in us making love, I can’t help but wonder where he’s been when he’s gone. Mentally, that is, because physically I know he’s either at the gym or with me, he definitely wouldn’t have the time to actually be with another woman. I just sometimes think his thoughts are. That’s all.

And so when he sits here and tells me he loves me, I try to push that feeling away, because no one’s ever told me before that they loved me, unless you count Ben’s drunken mumblings at his farewell party, which I don’t, and therefore nor should you.

And surely when someone like Brad is in love with you, you have to love them back? So what if he’s Californian, so what if he’s not as intellectually capable as some of my friends back home, that doesn’t mean he’s not my soulmate. And he loves me.
Me
! Jemima Jones!

But my other concern, if you can call it that, is what are you supposed to say when someone tells you they love you? Are you supposed to be ultra-cool and say “I know” or are you supposed to say “I love you too”? I can’t decide, so I don’t say anything at all.

“I know this must seem very quick.” Brad looks at me earnestly. “But they always say you know when you know, and I
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know. I really do. I feel like I’ve found my soulmate.” I know I just thought the same thing, but it sounds so ridiculous spoken out loud, so naff, and for a minute I look at him wondering if he is on another planet after all. I don’t really know what to say, and, although the silence probably isn’t very long, it feels very long. It feels like hours.

“I think I feel the same way,” I say eventually and, much as I hate to admit it, I think I say it partly to make Brad feel better, and partly to fill the silence. I mean, someone has to say
something,
don’t they?

“You are just what I’ve been looking for,” he continues. “You’re just so perfect.
We’re
so perfect together.”

“But I’m going home in a few days,” I say. “What are we going to do?” And I think about Lauren, and wonder whether I could cope with a long-distance relationship, but then I stop comparing myself to Lauren because, after all, I know the sex with Brad is fantastic. Probably the best thing about the whole relationship.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” he says slowly.

“What, you mean stay?”

“Not forever.” He obviously sees the panic in my eyes. “But maybe you could change your ticket and stay for, say, three months. It would give us a chance to see if this really would work.”

“But what about my job at home? What would I do here? What about all my
stuff
?” Thoughts start whirling round my head, how would I do this, how could I do this?

“Okay,” says Brad. “Let’s work this out. First of all you’d need to phone your work and see if they would let you have the time off. The worst thing that could happen is they say no, in which case you’d have to make a choice. Do you just leave and try for another job when you get back home, or do you go straight back home?”

I nod, thinking, again, about Lauren, and wondering whether she might just possibly consider finding me some work, or at the very least putting me in touch with people who could. I mean,
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hell, it’s not as if I’d be leaving some fantastic job, some fantastic magazine, it’s only the
Kilburn
bloody
Herald.

“Second,” continues Brad, “you don’t have to worry about what to do out here. I know hundreds of people in the television industry, so if you decided to stay I’m sure we could find you something. In the meantime you don’t have to worry about working, or about money. God knows I’ve got enough for both of us, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“But Brad, I need to work. Much as I love being here, I’d get so bored with nothing to do all day.” I don’t bother mentioning that I’m bored already.

“I know it’s not a long-term solution, but in the short term, if you were bored, you could always work at the gym.”

“Doing what?” I have this ridiculous vision of myself teaching an aerobics class.

“What about PR? I don’t have anyone except Jenny, and I know she has a hard job coping all by herself.”

Yeah, really, I think. Jenny would love that. But of course I don’t tell Brad that working with me would be Jenny’s idea of hell because she hates me, because I know he’d tell me she doesn’t and I am being ridiculous, so I don’t say anything, I just sit and wait for what he’s going to say next.

“And third, what
stuff
do you mean?”

“I’m still paying rent on my flat at home, and all my stuff is there, my things.”

“Don’t you have a friend who could look after it for you?”

“But I’m not sure I want to give it up. If,” and I kiss the palm of his hand as I say this, “if things don’t work out, and I’m not saying they won’t, I think it’s far more likely that they will, but if they don’t I don’t want to have to go back to London with nowhere to live.”

“So sublet your room.” Brad leans back as if it’s all so easy, and, as I watch him watching me, I realize that it is easy. He is absolutely right. Life should be an adventure, and this is the biggest adventure of my life. I’ve started it, so I may as well go with it and see where it takes me.

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“Okay,” I say, smile, and take a deep breath. “Let’s do it.”

“You’ll stay?”

“I’ll stay.”

“Jemima Jones,” he says, leaning forward, taking my face in his hands and giving me the hugest kiss on the lips, “have I told you how much I love you?”

A few minutes later we’re rudely interrupted by the sound of applause. I blush furiously as the table of six men all hoot and cheer, and even our bloody waiter joins in. “Would you like to see the menu,” he asks, one eyebrow raised, “or are you covered for dessert?”

I phone Geraldine the next morning, and she’s over the moon.

“You lucky cow!” she keeps saying. “I hope you’ve got a spare room because I’m coming to visit.”

“I wish you would,” I say, realizing how much I miss her, how much more fun this would be if Geraldine were here.

“I’m serious,” she says. “I’ll be packing my stuff before you know it. The only thing is you’ve got my bloody Louis Vuitton vanity case.”

“I’m sorry,” I groan. “Do you want me to send it back?”

“Don’t worry,” she laughs. “I’m sure I can live without it. Anyway, I can get Nick to buy me another one.”

“Ah. Nick. So?”

“So?” And I can tell instantly that she’s not doing
The Rules
anymore.

“So I take it you’re no longer a
Rules
girl?”

“I most certainly am a
Rules
girl,” she says indignantly. “Just because I slept with him doesn’t mean I’m going to stop.”

“You slept with him!”

“I figured it was about time, and, bless him, he really went to town. Flowers, champagne, everything.”

“And did it warrant fireworks as well?”

“Mmm. It was absolutely, one hundred percent delicious.”

“I don’t believe this, Geraldine. You’re in love!”

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There’s a long pause. “You know what, my darling Jemima? I think I bloody well am!”

And I know I shouldn’t be, but I’m jealous. I’m supposed to be in love too, so why can’t I muster the same enthusiasm, the same dreamy tone in my voice?

“I’m really happy for you,” I say. “I hope you get everything you wish for.”

“Mmm,” she says. “An eight-carat diamond engagement ring
and
Nick Maxwell. My life is perfect.”

I’m shocked. “You mean he’s given you an engagement ring?”

“Don’t be silly. I’m just planning my future.”

I laugh. “Listen, this is costing me a fortune and I need to speak to the editor. Can you put me through?”

“Good luck,” she says, blowing me kisses. “With everything.”

“And how’s the land of Hollyweird?” booms the editor down the phone.

“It’s weird,” I laugh, “but actually I’m in Santa Monica, which is not quite the Los Angeles you see in films. It’s a bit more down to earth.”

“Never been myself,” says the editor, “but wouldn’t mind taking the wife and kids. Life’s too short to be taken slowly,” he adds, yet another one of his boring cliches. “So you’re back in next Monday then, Jemima?”

“Er, well, actually. That’s why I was phoning.”

“And I thought it was because you were missing me,” he says with a sigh. “Go on then, love. This is going to be bad news, I knew it the minute they told me you were on the phone.”

“The thing is that I’d like to stay for a bit.”

“Not found a job on the
Hollywood Reporter
have we?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Must be love then.”

“I think it might be.”

“Look, Jemima,” he says, and from the tone of his voice I know he’s going to agree, he’s actually going to agree! “I
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wouldn’t normally agree to this, but, seeing as you’re one of our best reporters, I’m going to have to say yes. How long are you proposing to stay?”

“Three months?” I can’t help it, it comes out as a question.

“All right, Jemima, but there is a condition.”

“Yes?” I’m doubtful.

“The
Kilburn Herald,
great as it is, needs a touch of glamour. I’ll agree to you staying out there if you agree to do a weekly page on Los Angeles. I want our readers to get some Hollywood gossip firsthand. I want to know who’s doing what, where, with whom. And, more to the point, I want to know it first.”

“I’d love that!” I gasp, because this is my dream job. A column! All of my own! “But I have a condition of my own.”

“Yes?” says the editor warily.

“I want a picture byline.”

“No problem there, love. Have we got a decent picture of you?”

God, no. The only picture of me in the office is a fat picture. “I’ll send you one from here,” I say, thinking on my feet.

“Okay, Jemima. Let’s see how you do.”

“Thank you so much,” I gush. “It’s going to be great.”

“I’ll expect your copy every Wednesday morning, first thing. And Jemima, love?”

“Yes?”

“I hope he’s worth it.” And chuckling to himself, he puts the phone down.

Jemima Jones used to believe that she was born with a wooden spoon in her mouth. Jemima Jones used to believe that there was such a thing as an exciting, glamorous life, only that it would never happen to her.

But what Jemima Jones never understood was that sometimes, in life, you have to make things happen. That you can change your life if you’re willing to let go of the old and actively look for the new. That even if you’re on the right track
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you’ll get run over if you just sit there. And heaven knows Jemima Jones hasn’t been sitting anywhere for a long time now. Jemima Jones is now running with the winds, and suddenly, for the first time in her life, everything seems to be going right.

In fact, at this very moment in time I would say that Jemima Jones is an inspiration to us all.

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“I’m sorry, JJ,” says Cindy, coming back on the line, “but I’m afraid Brad’s in a meeting and can’t be disturbed. Just hold the line and I’ll put you through to Jenny.” Before I can yell no, I’m put on hold and I can’t put the phone down because that would be childish, and anyway, why can’t Brad be disturbed? Since when has he been too busy to talk to me? I’ve been here for four and a half weeks, and I’ve never had a problem getting through before.

“Hello?” Jenny comes on the line and even in one word I can hear the exasperation in her voice.

“Jenny? It’s JJ. How are you?”

“Fine.”

“Look, I know Brad’s in a meeting but can you just let him know I’m coming in about three o’clock.”

“Certainly. Oh by the way, he said that in case you called I should let you know that he has another meeting tonight and won’t be home as planned.”

“Fine. Thank you, Jenny.”

“You’re welcome,” she says, sounding as if she means the
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very opposite, as if I’ve once again pissed her off royally. Call me crazy, call me paranoid, but don’t I detect the tiniest hint of triumph in her voice? Must be my imagination.

And now I’m the one who’s pissed off. Not only will I be on my own all day, it looks like I’ll be on my own tonight as well, and the thought fills me with dread. Oh God, have I made a terrible mistake, should I have just got on that flight home and gone back to where I belong?

No. I’m determined to be positive, to make the best of the time I have here, to make the best of the relationship I have with Brad. Damn it, I think, as I pick up the phone and rifle through my address book to find Lauren’s number. I’m going to go out tonight and have some fun.