The Affair (26 page)

And then she had met Robert, and everything changed.

With him, she learned the meaning of loneliness.

These moments, she called them blue notes, happened occasionally when she wanted to have Robert around and, for various reasons, he couldn’t be there. She was experiencing the blue notes much more frequently lately. The problem was she’d gotten used to having Robert around, to having him in her life. It had been easier, so much easier, when she’d been alone.

Then, she hadn’t known what she was missing from her life. And she wasn’t just talking about a man—she despised that nonsense that a woman needed a man to make her complete. She was talking about a partner, a lover, a friend. In the beginning it had been nothing but sex. It had just been a game. But the game had turned serious when she fell in love with him.

If only she could be sure that he loved her. He said he did.

But did she believe him?

Friday, 20th December

 

 

T
he loud ringing of the phone woke her out of a deep and dreamless sleep. She scrambled blindly for it, almost knocking it off the table.

“Hello?”

“Good morning, gorgeous.”

Recognizing Robert’s voice, she pushed herself into an upright position and discovered that the bedclothes were in a knotted heap on the floor. When she slept alone she tossed and turned, but when Robert was in bed with her, she remained still and unmoving throughout the night. She squinted at the clock, trying to make sense of the digits. “My God, what time is it?”

“Ten past eight. Wake up, sleepyhead! I thought you’d be on the way into the office.”

“I’m going in later. I had a late call with Beijing last night; the thirteen-hour time difference is a killer.”

The call had come in around midnight, shocking her from a deep sleep. It was her newest client, a rising techno company that was a needy, albeit lucrative account. Stephanie was available to them 24-7. After the call, she had not been able to get back to sleep until the early hours of the morning, and all the time she’d been wishing, desperately, that Robert were there with her, not to make love, just to hold her.

She was aware that Robert was speaking to her, and abruptly his half-heard words leapt out at her. “Speaking of calls, there was a message from Carson on my answering machine this morning; he wants to rearrange the appointment. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

She shook her head and rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes. Her intuition and business acumen were telling her that something was wrong. “Tell me what he said, exactly what he said.”

“Well, he just said . . . Actually, hang on a second and I’ll play you the message.” She heard him walking across the room, then a click as he hit the Play button on his answering machine.

“You have no new messages. You have two old messages.”

She heard the high-pitched squeal of a voice as Robert fast-forwarded through another message, then suddenly Eddie Carson’s smug voice came clearly down the line.

“Good morning, Robert, Eddie Carson, DaBoyz Management, here. I understand from Stephanie that you start early. Will you give me a call as soon as you get in? I’ll need to rearrange our appointment.”

Stephanie shook her head in astonishment. Eddie tried the same trick with just about everyone he worked with.

“That’s it,” Robert said cheerfully. “It’s not a problem. Obviously, I’ll clear my calendar to see them, you know that.”

“It is a problem,” she snapped. “This is just bullshit. I told Carson we were lucky to get you. Call him back and do not—do you hear me—do not allow him to rearrange the appointment. You’ve got to show this little bastard who’s boss; otherwise he’ll walk all over you.”

“It really isn’t a problem—” Robert began.

“Just do as I say,” she ordered. “Be tough with him. Tell him you can meet this morning or not at all, then shut up and say nothing. Wait for his response.” She hopped out of bed and went to stand by the window, looking down over the courtyard. Mrs. Moore was out sweeping dead leaves away from the front of the Victorian. Stephanie was getting sick and tired of Eddie Carson and his second-rate band.

“Okay,” Robert said, but she could hear the doubt and indecision in his voice. Why couldn’t he trust her? Because she was a woman and he was a man, and men always knew what they were doing in business? Bullshit. Stephanie had her finger on the pulse of the industry, and while she loved Robert, he was considered a dinosaur in a field in which rapidly evolving technology was dramatically changing the business. She had proved, time and time again, that she was right.

“Trust me on this. Do it now, and then phone me back.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

She hung up. Carrying the phone in her hand, she headed into the bathroom and turned on the shower. It would be interesting now to see how Robert handled this; if he gave in to Carson, then the video would be a disaster, because Carson would effectively take charge. If Robert kept control of the DaBoyz manager, then there was still some hope for him.

But Stephanie also knew that Robert was so desperate for business that he might very well give in to Carson. He’d be even more desperate if he discovered that this was the last job he was getting from her agency. She was already compromised. She just wasn’t sure how badly.

The recent Skype conversation she’d had with her boss, Charles Flintoff, had been very strained. This was the man who’d found her on breakfast-time TV and had offered her a job on the basis of a half-hour meeting. He’d mentored her, and she’d proven to be an excellent student. She got the feeling that he regarded her almost like a daughter—he had three of his own, none of whom were following him into the business—and she, in turn, was incredibly fond of him. He had heard a whisper in the trade about her involvement with Robert, and had Skyped her immediately to ask her straight out for an answer. For a single instant, she’d been tempted to lie to him and deny the rumor, but instead had opted for the truth. She respected Charles, and the truth had probably saved her job. Charles had once told her that he only ever asked questions he knew the answer to.

The other thing in her favor was that the few small jobs she’d sent Robert’s way had been competitively priced, and he’d delivered the goods. Charles had made no comment about the fact that Robert was married, but he had advised Stephanie that she had compromised the agency by becoming involved with a subcontractor. She admitted that when she was giving Robert the work, she’d never thought about that. “Love can be blind,” Charles said, “but infatuation can be stupid.” If she wanted to remain with the company, she had a choice: She could either break up with Robert or refrain from giving him any more business. She had to do one or the other, and although he didn’t say it, she got the distinct impression that Charles would prefer if she did both. She gave Charles Flintoff an assurance that she would not allow R&K to pitch for any further business and that if they did pitch, she would not consider them. “Then, we can consider the matter closed,” Flintoff said in his avuncular, cut-glass British accent. “There’s no need to revisit it.” Stephanie knew he would never mention it again, but even on the computer screen, she could see the disappointment in his face and knew also that her credibility with the man had been damaged. She was going to have to work hard to restore it.

Stephanie wondered how Robert was going to react when he discovered that he was not going to get any more business out of her agency. She knew he was counting on her putting more business his way in the coming year. He’d even, rather arrogantly she thought, created a budget based upon that premise. She decided she would break the news to him sometime in January. Let him enjoy his Christmas.

Stephanie stared at herself in the mirror. Her hair was wild and her eyes were bloodshot after her disturbed night. The flesh on her face was sagging and creased with pillow-marks. She stepped back and looked at herself critically: Her body was in relatively good condition, her breasts were still more or less firm, stomach reasonably flat, but she was losing the battle with cellulite on her thighs. What exactly did Robert see in her, she wondered? What had attracted him to her? . . . Could it be for the business she brought his company? The thought was nasty and spiteful, but it was not the first time it had occurred to her.

Her phone rang.

“You were right.” She could hear him smiling on the other end of the phone. “What would I do without you?”

“Let’s hope you never have to find out.”

“I
like him,” Eddie Carson said, voice crackling and distorted as it came through her hands-free phone system in the BMW.

Stephanie was looking for a place to park and was tracking a pedestrian walking down Charles Street with car keys jangling in his hand. Was he walking to his car or away from it? “I knew you’d like him, Eddie,” she said brightly. “Plus he’s a new face, with new ideas, so you can be sure you’ll get something different, a new look, for the band.”

“Yeah, yeah, he had some good stuff, some nice ideas.” Carson sounded bored.

“You didn’t try to change the time of the appointment this morning, Eddie, did you?”

“Would I do that, Miss Burroughs?” Eddie Carson asked innocently.

“Absolutely.”

The pedestrian stopped beside a blue Prius and climbed in. Stephanie pulled right up beside the car, signal light ticking. The trick now was to make sure that no one stole her space.

“It’s a game, Stef; you just got to play the game. But this new boy, this Roger . . .”

“Robert,” she corrected him.

“Robert. Yeah, he seems to know the rules. I understand you know him . . . personally.” The leer in his voice was clearly audible.

The Prius showed no sign of moving. Stephanie ground her teeth. “What are the chances of DaBoyz breaking up?” she asked, not answering his question, keeping him off-balance. If he wanted to play games, she could play just as well—better—than he ever could.

“None. I’m drip-feeding the press the story myself. The single isn’t going to make number one for Christmas, which is a shame, but if Roger . . .”

“Robert.”

“If Robert can shoot a good vid, we’ll have a reasonable chance at the charts with the next single in the early spring.”

Stephanie knew he was lying through his teeth. The new video would be released probably a week before the band announced they were going their separate ways for “creative reasons.” The creative reasons being that only one of them could sing. The sympathy vote from the dwindling numbers of fans might push the single into the top five.

The Prius finally pulled out, and Stephanie nipped the BMW into the space. “Sounds good. You have a great Christmas, Eddie. I’ll talk to you in the New Year.”

“Same to you, Stef.”

“And Eddie . . . don’t let me read in the papers that the band’s broken up. Let’s get the video out first.”

“Keen to show off your boyfriend’s handiwork, eh?” Carson said and hung up before she could respond.

Stephanie nodded. He’d won that round.

 

“I told you.” Stephanie strode around the office, having related an edited version of the conversation she’d just had with Eddie.

Robert was sitting behind his desk, staring intently at his monitor. “Your advice was absolutely spot-on,” he said without looking up. “They turned up at ten on the dot. The boys were as good as gold, a little overawed by everything, and very much under Carson’s thumb. He made all the creative decisions.”

Stephanie fanned out the storyboards across the conference table. This was the first time she’d seen the finished presentation, and it looked great. Robert wanted to shoot the band’s new single, “Heart of Stone,” in the middle of the Haleakal
Crater in Maui. He was going to shoot in color, but treat the image, making it look black and white, giving the video a stark, minimalist look. She was reminded, looking at the neatly precise and original drawings he’d made of each frame, just how creative he was when he was given the opportunity. “These look very good, very exciting. Different. Dark and just a little exotic. Just what the band needs at the moment—it’ll take them in a new direction.”

“Carson was complimentary. Apparently everyone else was suggesting something light and bright and fluffy with tween appeal. He wants to take the band up into an older age range.” Robert came to stand beside her and started shuffling the pages into order. “You’d think I’d been doing this all my life,” he said. “Carson wanted a few changes.”

“Of course he did. It’s a power thing with him, like trying to change the time of the appointment this morning. I’ve seen him do that so often. He thinks he’s managing U2, not just another cookie-cutter boy band. And if you hadn’t called him on it, then he would have given you the runaround for the next couple of weeks. Even if you had gotten the gig, he would have interfered every step of the way.” She smiled. “Hawaii was a good location choice. Everyone loves Hawaii.”

Her voice trailed away. She was abruptly, erotically conscious that Robert was standing close—much too close—to her. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, and in that instant she wanted him, with a hungry, animal passion. She had to have him, in her arms, in her body. Watching his eyes, she saw the lust bloom in them and knew that he wanted her too. She wished that she were on the crater in Hawaii with him, making love as the sun came up over the beautiful landscape.

She smiled and raised her eyebrows a fraction, then glanced toward the open door to where the secretary was pretending to be busy with a catalogue, but was obviously listening in. Robert nodded imperceptibly and stepped into the outer office.

Stephanie fanned out the images again, vaguely aware that he was sending the Russian girl home. There was a great power and energy to the images, and if Robert managed to capture it on screen, it would make a stunning video. Undoubtedly, the best pop video the band had ever had. And it was going to be released a week before they broke up. With any luck someone would see it and commission Robert to do another one for another band. She was relieved too; Charles Flintoff could not help but be impressed.

“Good night, Miss Burroughs.” The Russian girl’s voice disturbed her thoughts.

“Good night,” Stephanie called, without looking up. She didn’t particularly like the Russian girl, didn’t like the way she looked knowingly at her every time she came in. And there was also the doubt, just the tiniest insidious doubt that what had happened between her and Robert could just as easily happen between the Russian and Robert. It wasn’t the first time the thought had struck her. Since Robert had betrayed his wife, Stephanie had lived with the awareness that he could just as easily betray her too, which really begged the question: Did she trust him?

And it bothered her—bothered her tremendously—that she could not answer yes to that question.

“I think she suspects . . . ,” Robert began, walking back into the office.

“Who cares?” Stephanie said. “She’s a receptionist.” Then she caught Robert by his lapels and pulled him toward her, tilting her head and pressing her lips against his. The need for him was a physical hunger, shocking and surprising in its intensity.

She pulled him back against the conference table, kissing him deeply as his fingers fumbled at the buttons of her blouse. She lifted herself up onto the table and pushed him away from her, giving her time to shrug out of her jacket and toss it on a chair. She undid the buttons on her blouse as Robert pulled urgently at his shirt. His button broke away, pinged off the table, and skipped across the room.

She was the one who usually initiated their lovemaking. The first time they had made love, she had been forced to make the first move, letting him know that she was available. She remembered feeling a sick queasiness in the pit of her stomach that first time she had stood naked before him, waiting for him to take her or reject her, wondering why he hadn’t come on to her sooner.

Later, much later in their relationship, she’d come to realize that he’d simply fallen out of the habit of initiating lovemaking. Later still he’d admitted to her that he and Kathy hadn’t made love for a very long time. In the last few years when he had tried to initiate lovemaking with his wife, she was always too tired, and he felt she was rejecting him. He had simply gotten into the habit of not trying, because the rejection hurt.

Stephanie had promised that she’d never reject him. She told him that if she did not want to make love, she would tell him openly, without pretending to be asleep or to have a headache or a stomachache. And she would always hold him. That, she discovered very quickly, was what he really wanted: to be held gently and quietly.

She spread herself naked on the table and watched in amusement as he hopped around on one leg, pulling off his socks. “Nice to see you’re still interested in me.”

“I thought we were discussing a contract,” he murmured, approaching the table.

“We will. But first things first. Priorities are important.” Her voice was husky with lust as she watched him undress. When he was completely naked, she opened her arms and lifted her legs. “And you are my priority. Now, where were we?” she whispered.

 

She turned around in the tiny shower and allowed the trickle of tepid water to roll off her body. He really should get the plumbing fixed in this building. It was the only drawback to making love in his offices. But at least she wasn’t heading back to her office. The last time they’d made love here, she’d had to go back for a meeting that had lasted for the rest of the afternoon. She could smell him on her body for the rest of the day and imagined that the rest of the attendees could also.

She dried herself while Robert stepped into the shower. She was pleased to see that he’d started to take care of himself. When they’d first become an item, he’d been heading toward flab, with the beginnings of a paunch and with skin the color of old marble. She’d encouraged him to exercise, and he’d even joined her gym, and now they worked out together. She’d booked him in for a session in a tanning salon and had sent him to her dermatologist for a consultation about getting Botox injected in the deep worry lines in his forehead.

The shower died down, and Robert pushed the door open and stepped out.

Stephanie walked back into the tiny bathroom and stood provocatively in the doorway. “Will I see you later?” she asked. She was only wearing her light pink lace-trimmed bra and thong.

“I’m not sure. Do me a favor,” he added, reaching for a towel. “Get dressed, please.”

“Why?” she said innocently.

“Because if you don’t I’ll just have to have you again.”

“Promises, promises.” She stepped away from the door and started to dress. If she gave him any encouragement, he would make love to her again, and she loved that passion, that need he had for her. “What about tonight?” she asked again.

“Tonight’s all screwed up. You know Jimmy and I were supposed to have dinner in the Prudential building at Top of the Hub? Well, I got Illona to phone to confirm the reservation. And it turns out there was none. And you know that place is impossible to get into, especially this time of year.”

“What happened?”

Robert was standing beside her. He suddenly reached out and pinched her nipple. The touch sent an electric ripple straight through to the center of her groin. She caught his hand and pressed it against her skin; his flesh felt hot against her cool breasts. Then she lifted his fingertips to her lips and kissed them. She loved this man. Loved him.

And that thrilled her and terrified her in equal measure.

“I’m not sure whose error it was, Illona’s or Maureen’s.” For a moment, she had no idea what he was talking about; then she realized he was continuing the conversation. It took a deliberate effort of will to come back on track. “Maureen’s, I think. But that’s not the point. I’ve got an old friend meeting me here in just over an hour, and I’ve no place to take him to dinner.”

“It’ll be difficult finding a posh place to eat this close to Christmas.” She was still aroused, and there was a perceptible tremble in her voice, but she didn’t think he noticed.

“I know. And Jimmy won’t want to go far; he was talking about spending the night in his apartment in the North End.”

Stephanie returned to the bathroom to repair her makeup. “Be upfront with him,” she advised. It was the advice she tried to live her life by: Be truthful and honest with people.