Transplanting Holly Oakwood (9 page)

They took a table and he recounted the story. Before long they were chatting like old friends, discussing her break up with Tom, and last night’s phone call.

“I don’t know what to do.” She frowned. “Should I stay or should I go?”

“That’d make a great song.” He hummed the first bars then belted out the words with gusto, tapping the table in accompaniment. “Should I stay or should I go?” His voice was seriously off key but what he lacked in technique he made up for in confidence.

“Part of me wants to pack up and get the first plane home.”

“Don’t. You’ve only been here a couple of months. Not long enough to settle in and stop missing him.”

“You’re right. Be a mistake to rush back to a bastard who cheated on me. I’d lose all my self respect and my friends would disown me.”

“You have to do what’s best for you,” he said kindly. “It doesn’t matter what your friends think.”

“If I’m honest I don’t care what anyone thinks. But I’ll never trust him again.”

“That’s your answer then. You need to stay here and get through this. You’ll love LA once you settle in.”

“You’re right, but I can’t stop thinking that if I don’t go back he’ll stay with Sonia.”

“You need to stop thinking in that case.”

She ignored him. “He won’t want to be without a shag, and he’s too lazy to go out and find someone else. I don’t want him to stay with her, I don’t want her to win.”

“It’s not a competition, love, it’s your life.”

“I know, and Tom’s no prize, but he is a bloody good bonk. God, I shouldn’t be talking like this to a stranger.”

“Hardly a stranger. I’m your hairdresser and that’s a very intimate relationship,” he said, a suggestive twinkle in his eye. “Give yourself more time. Believe me, it does help put things into perspective.” He looked at his watch and stood up. “Gotta go.” With a jaunty wave he melded into the crowds and she sat at the table thoughtfully, considering his advice.

She knew he was right, she needed to stay, give herself time and see if she could settle in LA.

But as she walked back to the Shangri-La the crowds thinned and loneliness settled on her like a heavy cape. She unlocked the door of the immaculate apartment and the silence was more oppressive than the night before. She was glad Tom was miserable, glad he was missing her. Hopefully he was feeling as unhappy and isolated as she was.

Decision made, she shut the door of the apartment, steeling herself for another lonely night.

ELEVEN

Charlie

“What am I gonna do, Charlie?” asked Tessa. “Neither option is good.”

“Make me a cup of tea and we’ll put our thinking caps on.” Charlie pulled out a chair from the tiny table in the dining nook and watched as Tessa bustled around the kitchen. She depended on him for advice, but he hadn’t had his first cuppa yet, a requirement for clear thinking.

“The boyfriend issue I can’t advise you on,” he said, as she dropped the tea bags into boiling water. Tessa was gorgeous and an absolute angel, but had terrible luck with boyfriends and attracted bastards. Her latest was a loser and she was much better off without him.

She brought two steaming mugs of fragrant Earl Grey over and sat down. “I don’t have much luck, do I?” she asked, frowning. “I wish I knew where I went wrong.”

“You don’t do anything wrong,” he said, “but LA’s full of easy women and men find it hard to concentrate.” He laughed self-consciously.

“Aren’t you glad?” she teased. “Makes it easy for a serial dater like you.”

Serial shagger more like, but he ignored her euphemism. He’d been close friends with his neighbour for the past two years, but lately he wasn’t comfortable discussing his women with her. She knew he got around, but he didn’t want her to know the full extent of his promiscuity. She might think less of him if she knew.

“As it happens I
can
help on the room-mate front,” he said quickly, before she could question him on his latest conquests.

“Great. I hate advertising for roomies. Tell me all.”

“I met someone recently who’s new to LA. She’s staying in temporary digs and I’d say she’d be perfect for you.”

“Sounds interesting. One of your women?”

“No, a client from the salon. I ran into her the other day at Venice Beach, and she mentioned she needs to find a permanent place to stay.”

She stirred her tea furiously. “What’s she like?”

“Nice. Sweet in a naïve sort of way.”

“Not your usual type then.”

“No, but she does intrigue me. She’s from New Zealand of all places, but she’s been living in London for years, which means we have a lot in common.” It sounded unconvincing and he doubted if he’d fooled Tessa.

“In other words, you do fancy her.” She grimaced. “I don’t think one of your women would be a good roomie for me. Could be complicated.”

“She’s not one of my women,” he said, trying to look hurt. “What do you mean complicated?”

“All the ups and downs and dramas. Whether you like them or not, after they’ve become hopelessly involved. Don’t get me wrong, they all make amusing stories. Afterwards.”

He nodded, wishing he hadn’t told her half of what he had.

“But if you’re only interested in her as a friend…” she tailed off. “I’d like a female, don’t want another situation like the last one.”

“Can’t blame the guy for trying it on.”

“Creep. All I want is a woman who’ll pay the rent on time and do her share of the housework. I’m not here much anyway.”

“How’re the auditions going?” he asked.

She got up from the table, walked over to the couch, and picked up a dog-eared script. “Frustrating,” she said, shaking it at him. “You spend ages learning the lines, get all psyched up, give it your best shot, then get the standard ‘Don’t call us, we’ll call you’.” She threw the script back onto the couch.

“Do they actually say that?”

“They do,” she said, her mouth curving downwards. “Then you never hear from them again.” She paused, as if searching for the right words. “I feel as if I’ve been auditioning for decades and I still haven’t had a real break. I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

“Don’t get disheartened. You’re gorgeous and you’ll get the break you deserve.” He wasn’t exaggerating, and as he took in her smooth olive skin, slanting green eyes and black hair he marvelled that he’d never made a move on her. Maybe because he knew she’d reject him.

“You’re such a darling.” She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “But LA’s full of gorgeous women. I’m glad I’ve got the dogs.”

“Ah yes, the dogs,” he said, distaste plain in his voice. “I think you’re mad. I can’t understand why anyone would choose to spend their time with hairy, slobbery, unruly animals.”

“They keep me sane and pay the bills. Apart from that, they’re loyal, not to mention full of fun and affection. And they keep you fit. I’d love one of my own but can’t living here.”

“Thank God for that or I’d have to find somewhere else to live. Can’t imagine sitting around the pool with a large smelly beast gambolling around pooping everywhere.”

Tessa raised her eyes heavenward but didn’t bite. “This way I get paid to enjoy them.”

“I will concede it’s a great way to keep fit.” He cast an approving glance over her toned figure, and his eyes lingered on her slim hips.

“Pet sitting’s great in this city. Look at all the flash houses I’ve stayed in.”

He nodded absently, his mind elsewhere. “Shall I get in touch with Holly? I could ask her to join us for drinks and dinner at the Pier next Saturday.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to get her to come and look at the apartment first?”

“There’d be no pressure this way.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“If you like her you can ask her to come over and see the place. If you don’t like her, you can tell her it’s already gone.”

“Good thinking, 99. More tea?”

He nodded, relieved he’d been able to solve Tessa’s problem.

Not to mention his. Now he had the perfect excuse to phone Holly.

TWELVE

Holly

“How’s everything going? Settling in?” Holly looked up to see Ann standing in the doorway of her office.

“Good, thanks. I’m finding my feet,” she lied. Ann was a darling, but she didn’t want anyone to know how much she was struggling.

“You’ve only been here a few months, don’t put too much pressure on yourself.” Ann looked at her intently. “You’ve got a job and temporary accommodation, and it’s only a matter of time before you make friends and start feeling settled.”

It was obvious Ann could tell she was lying. She tried to keep an even tone to her voice. “It’s coming together. I feel as if I’ve got a handle on things here in the office.”

“Have you been working with Brittany?”

“No, she’s been away so often, but I’m meeting with her shortly. She wants help with a report she’s doing for a client.”

The lines in Ann’s forehead deepened, she opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. “As you say she’s been away, and she’s also been busy helping Mr Cutler with Consular matters lately.” She coughed discreetly, then fiddled with her watch. “Better run, I’ve got the Australian Embassy staff coming over for a meeting in half an hour.”

What had Ann wanted to say about Brittany? Although she hadn’t seen much of her, Holly got the impression Brittany wasn’t popular, and if her first meeting was anything to go by, it wasn’t surprising. Fortunately everything else at work was good. The staff were friendly, she was busy and the days passed quickly. Nights and weekends were the problem, because then she had time to think.

She was sick of thinking. Why had Tom phoned out of the blue after all these weeks? He wasn’t being fair to her. She should be enjoying this opportunity, yet here she was wondering if she was doing the right thing staying in LA.

She bit the end of her pencil. Of course she was doing the right thing. Wouldn’t be smart to give up, hop on a plane and go back to Tom as if nothing had happened. After all, he was rat-arsed when he called. What if he hadn’t meant any of the things he’d said?

“Holly.” A sharp voice interrupted her flow of thoughts. “We had a meeting ten minutes ago.” Brittany was standing in the doorway.

She dropped the pencil she’d been chewing. “Sorry, I lost track of time.”

Brittany shook her head impatiently. “Come to my office now and let’s get going.”

Her boss’s office was as immaculate as she was, with a desk free of paper, and books arranged on the shelves according to size. No photos or personal mementos were on show in the room, unlike her own office which was littered with papers, pens, photos of home, and supplies to stave off mid-morning hunger. Did a cluttered office signal a cluttered mind?

“I’m sorry I’ve been away so much since you arrived. I’m back at home base for awhile now, but I need to free up time to help Mr Cutler with diplomatic matters,” Brittany said formally. “We work closely together and he’s come to rely on me heavily.”

“Ann mentioned you work with him a lot.”

Brittany relaxed visibly. “I help with the social side of running the Consulate and the Consular Residence. Takes a lot of effort I can tell you.”

Holly made the sympathetic noises she expected Brittany wanted to hear, then said, “I haven’t met him yet.”

“He’s travelling, but once this round of trade negotiations has finished he’ll want to meet you.” Brittany looked into space for a moment, a half smile playing on her lips. “I’d like you to do a report for a flower grower in New Zealand.”

“They import flowers all the way from New Zealand?”

“Yes, of course, but it’s a small export market for New Zealand. They want us to grow it, no pun intended.” She laughed at her own joke. “The aim is to target twenty cut flower importers who aren’t currently bringing in stock from the Southern Hemisphere.”

“How do I do it?”

Brittany thrummed her nails on the desk before answering. “Cold calling, but you’ll need to do the research first. Contact flower importers, talk to them directly, ask if they’re interested in importing from New Zealand.”

“If they say yes?”

Brittany tapped her nails on the desk again, drawing attention to her perfect manicure. “Should be obvious. Broker meetings between them and the client.”