Nobody Knows (6 page)

“We’re out of here,” Rhiannon proclaimed, already on her feet.

Chapter Six

When I finally managed to pry my eyelids open around midday the next day, I just wanted to shut them again. My tongue was furry and my mouth felt like it’d been stuffed with cotton wool. My ears were ringing and my head pounding. I could feel the room spinning around me. I didn’t think I had drunk that much, but obviously counting my drinks hadn’t been high on my agenda.

I managed to stumble to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face, in hopes that would make me feel human again. Looking up, straight into the truth-filled mirror, I saw the most horrid sight imaginable. My bloodshot eyes were outlined by dark tear-streaked mascara circles. Lipstick was smudged halfway across my cheek, making me look more like a clown than a person. My hair still had bobby pins hanging out of it, and clearly I had used an entire can of hairspray when I plastered it into position, so it now resembled a very poorly constructed bird’s nest. After three attempts of washing it all away with icy water, I drank thirstily directly from the faucet. The high pitched whistling noise the pipes made as the water thudded through them made my head spin even faster and harder. After glugging down a few liters, I stumbled back into bed, pulled the quilt cover over my head, and fell back asleep.

Waking again, I felt a bit better, but was surprised to see that it was already three o’clock. I had drifted in and out of consciousness for most of the day. After a shower and a tall glass of Coke I felt almost human again. Drawing back the dark curtains, I saw that the day I missed hadn’t been much. It had rained heavily, by the looks of the puddles that lined the driveway, and the trees were almost horizontal as the howling wind controlled them.

Tripping over a shoe I slumped to the lounge and clicked on the remote. When I felt something hard dig into my bum I foraged around, only to find the entire contents of my handbag tipped between the cushions. Finding my phone, I nervously put it on the arm of the chair and walked away.

I didn’t know if I called anyone last night. I didn’t remember calling, but then again I didn’t remember getting home or anything really after I spotted Joel in the club. Oh my god. I didn’t make an idiot of myself in front of Joel, did I? My phone was taunting me. Silent, still, waiting for me to gather the courage to flip it open and see what I had done. I couldn’t do it. Instead, I went into the kitchen and found something to eat.

I saw my phone vibrate off the lounge and crash to the floor, but my feet were frozen to the spot. I wanted to run and stop it from breaking, but if it broke all the information in it would be lost. All the evidence destroyed. But moments later it vibrated and buzzed again. It may have hit the floor with a thud but it still worked. Perfectly.

In that moment some strange impulse consumed me. I had no idea who could be trying to get a hold of me but I hoped it was Joel. I wanted to know that I hadn’t stuffed everything. I wanted him to reassure me that everything was okay, that I wasn’t some desperate, needy one night stand or just another notch on his belt.

I flipped it open and read the message.

Rhiannon: U up yet? I’m dying.

Rhiannon had always had a flare for the dramatic.

Gillian: Yeah alive.

I slumped back down on the lounge and hit play on the DVD. I didn’t even know what was in there and I didn’t really care. I just wanted the noise of something other than the incessant, infuriating ringing in my ears.

Rhiannon: Heidi n I r on way with ur car.

I had completely blanked out that part of the evening. I know Alex was supposed to bring us home but I don’t remember if he did or not. Probably; he was reliable and sensible like that.

For the next twenty minutes I sat, completely unable to move, tears streaming down my face, regretting pressing play.
PS I Love You
played on the screen. Heidi didn’t even knock. She just pushed open the door and flopped onto the sofa beside me, her eyes completely focused on the screen in front of us.

Rhiannon came through the door like a whirlwind. “Well, ladies, did we all have fun last night?” Heidi and I rolled our eyes at her in unison and grunted our agreement.

“So, what happened to you, Gillian?” Heidi asked, straining her eyes away.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you turned down an absolute stunner, he ends up taking Cora home, and now no one can get hold of her. And you end up at the bar with a line of cowboy shots in front of you that you were downing like water. I have never seen anyone, male or female, drink like you did last night. Did you have a death wish or something?”

I stared at Heidi for a long time. At least now I knew the cause of the throbbing pain in my head and the reason every time I took a sip of my water I felt like my entire insides were going to come streaming out of me. “Did I?” I asked nervously. Surely she was exaggerating. They both laughed, seeing me wiggle. “How did I get home?” I enquired, not sure if I really wanted the answer.

“Alex,” Rhiannon offered. “He drove us all here. I stripped you off, tucked you into bed, and then we left. Nice lingerie, by the way. Was that for me or someone specific?”

“We practically carried you through the door. Well, Alex did,” Heidi finished. I felt my whole face turn beetroot red with embarrassment. I had been drunk before, but nothing like that. I didn’t remember how I got home; I couldn’t even walk up the steps by myself.

“I’m so sorry, guys…” I started, but was cut off by Rhiannon’s hysterical cackle.

“Don’t be sorry at all. You needed a good night out and you had it. I needed a good laugh and I got it. All in all, a very successful evening. Want to do it again?”

“I want to kill you!” I tried smiling, but couldn’t conjure one. “You know that, right?”

Later that night I lay curled up on the lounge, a bowl of hot buttered popcorn in my lap, and a blanket wrapped around me watching
Sex and the City
reruns. It amazed me; those ladies went out every night dressed head to toe in Dior or Gucci, drank more than a fish and awoke the next morning mostly looking stunning and refreshed with a different gorgeous guy each time. With that thought running around in my overtired and still slightly intoxicated brain, I thought of Joel. Maybe he was my one perfectly gorgeous guy. Maybe that was all I got.

The more I thought about him, the more irritated and annoyed I got. It wasn’t that he had basically thrown me out the door, because the truth was he didn’t. He was a perfect gentleman the morning after. No, the bit that was annoying me more than anything else was the fact that I had employed him and he hadn’t bothered to call. I had retained his professional services and he was supposed to have fulfilled specific obligations and he had failed. Frustrated, it took all my control and strength to not text him and say something I would regret later. No, I was more mature than that. First thing Monday morning I was going to contact his office and find out what the hell was going on.

Still annoyed, I found myself drooling over the Absolut hunk as I drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When Monday arrived, I had made some momentous decisions regarding my life. I was going to take control and do with it what I wanted. I had spent the day before surfing the internet getting very familiar with my new best friend, Google. I was putting together my bucket list. It was so broad and varied. It had simple things like ice skating and go-karting, but then it had adventurous things too. I wanted to ride an elephant in the jungles of Thailand, and I wanted to see the great pyramids of Egypt, before climbing the Eiffel Tower in Paris at sunset. But first I was going to start small. I was going to get fit and skinny and start feeling good about myself. So when the alarm rudely interrupted me at six a.m. I wanted to kill someone. But then I remembered this was entirely my idea. Even if it was a stupid one. I tortured my body for the next half an hour while I followed the yoga instructor on TV through a rather painful session before exposing my already tired and sore body to cold and attempted a run. It almost killed me. My labored breaths formed fluffy white clouds of condensation in front of my face while my nose was so cold it felt like the tip would fall off. My plan had been to run for half an hour, then shower and start my day. Barely ten minutes in, I had a stitch in my side and could barely breathe. With my heart pounding madly in my chest, I walked the rest of the way.

“Morning,” other joggers greeted as they breezed past barely panting, let alone sweating.

By the time I stepped into the shower and let steam surround me, I recognized the extent of the weariness on my neglected body. It would take time to build up to running, but I’d get there. I was determined. First get fit. Feel good. Look fabulous. Then I’d get what I wanted. Or who I wanted.

After scoffing down my breakfast I stole a glance at the clock only it was just after eight. Too early to ring Joel and let him know my thoughts. Trying to distract myself, I vacuumed and did a load of washing. I threw out a pile of old trashy magazines and even dusted, something I hated more than anything else. Other than ironing, it was the single chore I despised the most.

The clock stuck nine and I could only hold out a few more minutes. At ten past I called the office’s main line. “Max Meredith & Sons, this is Madeline.”

“Good morning, Madeline. Could I please speak to Joel Matthews?”

“Could I ask who’s calling?”

Already, she was irritating me. I’m sure she was just doing her job and following the script written in front of her, but for some reason I found her completely patronizing. Why did I have to explain myself to her?

“It’s Gillian Dempsey,” I retorted, refusing to give more than was requested.

“And Ms. Dempsey, can I ask what it is regarding?” she chirped. I pictured her in my mind and it was definitely not complimentary. “Regarding the sale of my property.”

“Just a moment, I’ll see if he is available.” At that point Madeline must have pressed a button and the most annoying repetitive hold music came on. It was the sort of music you hear as you enter the big top at the circus. “I’m sorry, Mr. Matthews is tied up at the moment. Can I take a message?”

Now I was really pissed off. Tied up my ass; he was avoiding me. “Tell him if he does not contact me within the next three hours I will withdraw my properties from the market and take my business elsewhere.”

I heard Madeline gulp. I hoped I was intimidating her. I hoped she was scared of passing the message along. But as soon as the thought registered, I instantly felt sorry for the doe-eyed beauty. It wasn’t her fault that I was a dirty, desperate tramp who couldn’t keep my hands off the sexy real estate agent.

“Can…m-may I get your contact number?” she stammered, clearly shaken.

After giving her my mobile I thanked her, hoping that she wouldn’t bear the brunt of Joel’s anger in my place. I would have quite happily told him what I thought, but he was too chicken shit to talk to me like an adult, so poor, innocent Madeline had had to face my frustration.

The hours passed without a word. By four that afternoon, irritated had given way to furious. I couldn’t believe that he was so childish that he couldn’t even return a client’s phone call. I mean, he had a fancy car and a nice house, so he must be nice to some clients to have that sort of success, but obviously not the ones he slept with.

With only fifteen minutes left of the work day, I called the office again. This time Madeline, already wary of me, informed me that Joel was in a meeting and she would again pass on my message to return my call as soon as he finished. This time I managed to remember that it wasn’t Madeline who was at fault, and didn’t take my annoyance out on her.

By Friday I was fuming. Not only was my entire body aching from my newly enforced exercise regime, but I still hadn’t heard back from Joel. This time I wasn’t going to give in or play nicely. I called his mobile directly. The fourth call, he answered.

“Hello,” he spat rudely.

“Joel! This is Gillian,”

“Yes, what can I do for you now, Gillian?” he asked dismissively. I could tell he was pissed, but I didn’t care. He didn’t get to make me the bad guy in this one. He knew what we were doing. If he’d have wanted to stop it he could have. But he didn’t.

“A return phone call would be a nice start,” I snapped back.

“Look, Gillian,” I heard him cough and clear his throat. “We are NOT in a relationship. For God’s sakes! Grow up and stop calling my office. I do not have to answer to you.” His raised voice was powerful.

On the other end of the phone I knew instantly that he meant every word he said, but I didn’t care. “Actually, Joel, you do. I employed you. I have a contract signed by the both of us stating that you work for me. I retained your services and on completion of your work you will be remunerated.” I felt smart. Not cocky, just right. And I was even surprised at myself that I was able to use all the words I wanted to and they made sense as they came out. I hadn’t faltered.

I heard him let out a deep breath. I could feel the tension in the silences. As much as it pained him, we both knew he had nowhere to go, even if he refused to admit it. “Well then. If that’s the way you want to play this one. Your unit will be in tomorrow’s paper and on exhibition tomorrow and Sunday. The house, as previously discussed, won’t hit the market until the tenants vacate in approximately four weeks and repairs have been carried out. Does that satisfy all of your questions, Ms. Dempsey?”