Original Sin (17 page)

‘So you too have finally met?’ he said.

‘Don’t worry, I’m not telling her any of our secrets,’ said Alicia, nudging David playfully, tilting her face up to smile at him.

‘I don’t want to know,’ said Brooke, forcing a smile.

‘Well, I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it,’ said Alicia, ‘I simply must go and compliment Carl and Estella on their new Lucian Freud.’

As they spent the next half–hour drifting from group to group, Brooke floated at the fringes, keeping a close eye on both David and Alicia. David’s ex had now returned to the man she had come with, a sombre–looking man in a dark suit and heavy–framed glasses – an architect, according to David. To a disinterested observer, Brooke was simply standing by the window, enjoying the view, soaking up the rarefied atmosphere, whereas in actual fact she was looking for any telltale signs that David was still interested in Alicia – a sly glance or an ever–so–casual touch, perhaps. There was nothing; they barely even spoke. Slowly Brooke’s irritation at having been ambushed by David’s ex turned to fascination as she watched them both expertly working the room. David was magnetic, and not just because of the good looks she had fallen in love with; he had a natural composure and a good–natured confidence. He spoke with conviction and authority and he had an indefinable presence that seemed to fill the space he was in. Alicia had another tactic entirely. When Brooke was close to her, she eavesdropped on Alicia’s conversation, and it was soon clear that she had nothing particularly clever or interesting to say, but she had something more powerful than intelligence or wit. Alicia was a world–class flirt. She flirted not with sexual invitation, but in a way that the person she was talking to felt like the most important person in the room. Consequently, they responded to her as if she were spouting Cicero.

Brooke glanced at her watch. It was almost eleven.

‘I know that look,’ whispered David into her ear. ‘You want to go, don’t you?’

She smiled at him gratefully. ‘Is it that obvious?’

They had only been at the party two hours, but to Brooke it had felt like an eternity. She didn’t miss all the surreptitious glances sent her way, or the whispered comments when she was just out of range. Her mouth was aching from the permanent smile etched on it. She felt like the village idiot.

They rode down in the elevator and, when they stepped outside onto Fifth Avenue, Brooke felt her shoulders relax. A cone of moonlight shone down on them and he turned to her and kissed her, his tongue licking the inside of her mouth. It was delicious and quite unexpected – spontaneous kisses, especially those in public places, were becoming thinner on the ground as they were constantly watched. His driver was parked across on the far corner and they walked to the car with his arm around her shoulders.

‘I’m sorry we were there so long,’ he said, opening the door of the Lexus for her. ‘But it wasn’t that bad, was it?’

‘Oh honey it was,’ she laughed.

‘I didn’t hear one person mention Jeff Daniels.’

‘They would hardly discuss the ins and outs of some scurrilous tabloid story with you,’ she said. ‘But believe me, they all knew the details.’

He was silent for a moment as the car engine started. ‘You seemed to be getting on well with Ally.’

‘She’s nice … ’ said Brooke obtusely.

‘You’re not jealous?’ he said, laughing softly.

‘I don’t trust her,’ she blurted out.

‘Trust her? What do you mean?’

‘Call me crazy,’ said Brooke, ‘but I’ve just got this
feeling
.’

‘A feeling about what?’ asked David. His words were measured, clipped. She could tell he was annoyed at the ‘trust’ jibe. Brooke supposed he had a point, considering how understanding he’d been about the Jeff Daniels accusations.

‘I just wondered if it was Alicia who leaked the
Oracle
gossip story,’ said Brooke.

‘
What
?’

‘Look, I spoke to Tess Garrett today and she said the story came from one of your ex–girlfriends.’

‘It sounds to me as if Tess Garrett is trying to justify her existence.’

‘She sounded pretty sure.’

‘On what basis?’

‘A source at the
Oracle
.’

He pursed his lips together.

Brooke paused before saying anything more. She never liked bringing up the subject of past girlfriends. In her experience it only made you look jealous or needy or both.

‘Aren’t you going to say anything?’ she asked.

‘How am I supposed to react?’ he said, anger in his voice.

‘Well, don’t you think it was Alicia? It had to come from somewhere.’

‘On what grounds?’

‘Well, she did go to Brown … ’

‘Brooke, you’re being ridiculous.’

‘Am I?’ she said, challenging him.

David was a serial monogamist: through his twenties there had been at least five girlfriends who had all lasted between six months and two years, and the Jeff Daniels leak could have come from any of them. They all had the same potential motivations: sour grapes, mean–spiritedness; some sense of thwarted entitlement, perhaps.

But it had been Alicia’s bright–eyed friendliness and a feeling of gleeful pleasure when she mentioned the
Oracle
story: it all made her suspicious of Alicia. Call it female intuition, but she was sure she was behind it.

‘Yes you are being ridiculous! After all, it was your friend, that Matt Palmer, who was quoted.’

She frowned. ‘It wasn’t him. I told you what he said. A journalist tracked him down and misquoted him.’

‘And you believe that?’ he asked.

‘Yes I do. He’s got less motivation for doing it than Alicia.’

He turned on the seat to face her.

‘Alicia’s parents and my parents have known each other forever,’ said David tightly. ‘She is a lot of things, but she is not deliberately evil.’

‘It sounds to me like you’re defending her.’

David rarely sounded angry. He always dealt with problems in his usual cool, composed way, but now his voice was raised. ‘I am
not
defending her. I just wonder what motivation
she’d
have for doing something like that?’

‘Oh, grow up, David,’ shouted Brooke. ‘Maybe, just maybe, she still loves you, did you ever think of that? Maybe she’ll do anything to stop you from being happy with anyone else.’

David turned to look at her. His face was stony.

‘Brooke,
she
finished our relationship.’

It stung Brooke like a slap in the face. She had always had the romantic notion of David Billington, America’s most eligible bachelor, rejecting each of his previous girlfriends because he was still searching, like Prince Charming, for the one girl who was perfect in every way. Childishly, she had allowed herself to believe that she had been that girl, that she was his one true love. Not for a second did she imagine she was second choice, that all along he had been pining for the one he could not have. She wondered momentarily if David and Alicia would still be together if Alicia had not called it a day, and the image of David and Alicia glad–handing the party in natural symmetry jumped into her head. But she knew she was right about Alicia, she just knew it.

‘Just because she finished with you doesn’t mean she wants anyone else to have you, David,’ she said. ‘It’s just naive to think Alicia is somehow incapable of being spiteful and underhand just because you were once in love with her.’

‘Well thanks for the vote of confidence.’

It did not escape Brooke’s notice that he had failed to deny he had been in love with Alicia, but despite her hurt and anger she still felt a pang of protectiveness. She hadn’t been striking out, she had been telling the truth: David was strong in so many ways, but he had one Achilles heel. He always saw the best in people. There was nothing naturally suspicious or cynical in his make–up, and she knew if he were one day to run for office, that it could be a fatal flaw. Her voice softened and she put a hand on his arm.

‘Oh honey, let’s not fight about this,’ she said softly. ‘You know I’m only saying it for your own good.’

‘No, you’re saying it because you’re pissed,’ he replied flatly. ‘You’ve had a crappy night and you’re feeling sorry for yourself. I’d just cool it, if I were you, Brooke. Okay, so you had one lapse of judgement with that Jeff Daniels character, but that doesn’t mean you have to assassinate everyone else’s character. It’s not very attractive.’

His words scalded her. ‘A lapse of judgement? So all that stuff about how you believed my story and how you trusted me was just crap, was it? Do you even care about how I felt back there tonight?’ She felt hot tears pricking at the back of her eyes.

He puffed out his cheeks. ‘Of course I care,’ he said in a low voice. ‘It’s just that if you’re going to be my wife, you’re going to have to get used to these parties, these people. It’s my life, Brooke.’

They were just a couple of minutes away from her apartment and she couldn’t think of anywhere she would rather be. She tapped his driver on the shoulder. ‘Miguel, can you drop home please?’

David tutted loudly. ‘Honey don’t overreact.’

‘I’m not overreacting. I just want to go home,’ she said quietly.

David nodded at Miguel. ‘Take her home.’

CHAPTER TEN

‘We have a major problem,’ announced Mimi Hall, publisher of Yellow Door’s children’s division. They were only two minutes into the weekly executive editorial meeting and already Brooke was on edge. Mimi Hall could be a very frightening woman, particularly when there were
problems
, when she always seemed to cleverly shift the blame onto other people. Brooke’s privilege and celebrity were no protection here; in fact it was something that seemed to annoy Mimi Hall. Everyone in the room knew Mimi did not belong in the gentle, good–natured world of children’s publishing, Five years earlier she had been a hotshot in the adult fiction division at Doubleday, but a string of high–profile flops and their consequent financial losses had got her fired. She’d taken the publisher’s job at Yellow Door, not because she thought a move into children’s publishing was an exciting move – far from it, Mimi Hall didn’t even
like
children. But it was a job, and sitting out her purgatory, awaiting a plum MD job somewhere, Mimi Hall seemed hellbent on taking out her professional frustrations on everyone else. Particularly Brooke.

‘This morning I had a long conversation with Jennifer Kelly and at this point it seems unlikely that she’s going to deliver in time for an October launch.’

She delivered the news casually but, sitting next to her, Edward Walker, the division’s affable English–born managing director, went pale. Jennifer was currently Yellow Door’s biggest author. Rumour had it she accounted for 15 per cent of the company’s annual profits with her whimsical love stories based in rural Ireland. A huge hit with Midwest teenagers, her first three books had topped the
New York Times
best–sellers list for weeks. She had been one of Mimi’s discoveries; she’d bought world rights for a five–book deal for fifty thousand dollars, which was precisely why her present reign of fear was tolerated.

‘But Mimi, a couple of weeks ago you told me she had
delivered
,’ spluttered Edward. ‘It’s April, Mimi. April! The book should be in.’ Even from the other end of the table, Brooke could see the panic in his eyes. Mimi turned her head and looked at Edward contemptuously. It was no secret that Mimi was waiting for Edward to retire, move on, or
be
moved on.

‘You clearly misunderstood me, Edward. I said Jennifer was
about
to deliver, but unfortunately she’s pregnant and so she can’t meet the deadline.’

‘She’s pregnant?’ said Edward disbelievingly. ‘When I last met a pregnant women I think she was still capable of sitting at her laptop.’ Edward was by nature a polite and calm man, and this was the first time that Brooke had ever seen him rattled. ‘And if she was
about
to deliver, then she can’t be that far off finishing the manuscript.’

‘I need not remind you that we have to keep her on side,’ said Mimi, still casual. ‘Once Jennifer delivers this book, she’s out of contract. We both know that every publishing company in town have got their chequebooks out ready to win her over. Even though she owes her entire career to me, loyalty means crap in this town. In other words, the kid gloves have to go on whether we like it or not.’

Everyone around the table knew what was really going on with Jennifer Kelly. Her latest book,
Chocolate Kisses
, was only one hundred and fifty pages long – and what there was of it was bloated and poorly written. It had still sold to the loyal fans, but it was obvious that their star writer’s heart wasn’t in it any more. She had earned millions of dollars in royalties from the books alone, and last Christmas the Disney adaptation of her second book,
Butterfly Heart,
had broken all box–office records. Just thirty years old, she had a villa in Provence, an apartment in Manhattan, and a small manor house in Ireland. The truth was, Jennifer just couldn’t be bothered. ‘Can’t we get a ghost to churn something out?’ asked commissioning editor Debbie Asquith, Brooke’s best friend at Yellow Door and one of the few people with enough balls to speak out in front of Mimi.