I didn’t know how to respond to that. This wasn’t the time to fill Alice in on our smooching in the karaoke booth.
‘You seem to be enjoying yourself, then,’ I said.
She beamed. ‘Thanks for inviting me. I even got a couple of selfies with the band. How lame is that?’
‘It’s not lame at all. It’s nice to see you looking so happy.’
We left soon after. I hadn’t spoken to Nick, but luckily no one had noticed or commented on our lack of communication.
I was glad of the early night because the next evening was the one black-tie event I went to every year: a ball held by the record label Sigma.
I was always surprised that people didn’t buck the dress code. It was as if music journos secretly coveted a reason to ditch their usual uniform of jeans and trainers and dress like grown-ups.
I was wearing a floor-length red number that I’d bought in TK Maxx in the January sales. I’d swooped on it when I’d seen it on the rack even though I’d only popped in to buy socks. It was rather gorgeous: red velvet with a built-in corset, so after I’d showered and done my make-up there was no mad rush to find the one strapless bra I owned whose elastic hadn’t give up the ghost.
I like to think I’m not easily impressed, but this year the ball was at the Natural History Museum, and standing under the skeleton of a blue whale, its jaw as big as my flat, had me staring in open-mouthed wonder. I would have felt a bit stupid, but at least four other people were doing the same thing, including a minor royal.
Gav was by my side, scratching his head at the size of the damn thing, but then his attention slid over to Lucy, who’d gone to check our coats and was now coming back. He was mesmerised by her fifties-style dress; as she approached, the black netting of her full skirt bobbed up and down. He was so obviously smitten – poor guy.
Would Lucy notice him tonight? Dinner jackets did wonders for a man’s sex appeal and Gav was carrying off his penguin suit with panache – even if he had paired it with vintage Adidas trainers.
As Lucy approached, Gav leant in to me: ‘Off to find booze before the good stuff runs out.’
When Lucy reached me, she had a frown on her face.
‘Everything okay, Luce?’ I said, trying to glean if the frown was due to Gav’s departure or something else. ‘Gav’s gone to get you a drink.’
‘He could have asked what I wanted first,’ she replied.
‘It’ll be alcoholic – that usually covers it.’ I gave her an affectionate nudge, but the movement caused me to rock on my rarely worn heels and I had to grab her shoulder to right myself.
‘Blimey, Zo, how much did you drink before you came?’
‘Don’t you think Gav looks good in his suit?’
She eyeballed me. ‘Now I definitely know you’re pissed.’ She paused. ‘And overdue an eyesight test. Did you see the horrors he’s got on his feet?’
I smiled, but before I could reply, she stalked off in the opposite direction to Gav and I found myself alone and drinkless.
So, I went in search of vodka.
Armed with a double, I roamed the Hintze Hall, marvelling at the pillars that rose to meet an impressive glass-vaulted ceiling. The windows were arranged in a trinity of arches – a church to science. The scale of it had taken my breath away when I’d first come as a ten-year-old on a school trip. To be here now as an adult, and to see it bathed in mood lighting, white-clothed tables circling around me, made me feel ten all over again. And I was transported to a simpler time; a happier time.
It had been three days and I still hadn’t spoken to Simon. He hadn’t rung and that hurt. I didn’t know what to do about it because I was too scared to ring him. It was hell in this limbo and I couldn’t see a way out.
It would have been nice to let my hair down, get pissed and forget about everything, but there was a good chance Nick would be here tonight and the thought made me antsy. Still, there were several hundred guests, so even if he were here it would be easy enough to avoid him.
I chatted to friends and contacts and by the time I sat down to dinner I was feeling more like myself. I spotted Nick on the other side of the room, with a willowy blonde standing next to him. A little too close.
After dinner and coffee the crowds thinned, and he seemed to have vanished. It was probably for the best, though. Whether the blonde had vanished with him, I wasn’t sure.
Lucy was sitting on the other side of the table, and when Mike got up to go for a cigarette she came over and slumped into his chair.
‘Everything okay?’
‘Where did Gav get to?’ she asked.
I hadn’t noticed Gav leave, but his seat was empty. ‘Maybe he’s dancing?’
A DJ had set up in another room and people had been drifting towards the dance floor.
She rolled her eyes. ‘Gav dancing? He’ll knock over some priceless exhibit and we’ll all be banned for life.’
I smiled. Her digs at him were surely a cover for her feelings. Would Gav hate it if I tried to chivvy things along a bit?
She sighed and reached for the chocolate mint Mike had left in his coffee saucer.
‘You and Gav make a right pair,’ I said, matching her jokey tone. ‘One might even say a nice couple.’
She frowned. Had I gone too far? She hadn’t burst out laughing, which was a good sign.
‘The problem with Gav is he’s Darcy.’
What did she just say? ‘You’re comparing Gav to Mr Darcy from Pride and Prejudice?’
‘Yeah,’ said Lucy, oblivious to how odd she sounded.
Since when did a man being too much like Darcy constitute a problem? Did she mean that Gav was overly proud or arrogant? ‘You’ve lost me, Luce. I don’t see the similarity at all.’
‘He’s so serious all the time,’ she said. ‘He doesn’t have a playful bone in his body. Cute, but a bit dull, you know? He’s Darcy and I’ve always had a thing for the devilish Wickham.’
She should have sounded mad, sitting here comparing Gavin to a breeches-wearing Jane Austen hero, but she was making perfect sense. Playful and fun always attracted me way more than solid and reliable. But look who Lizzie Bennet had ended up with.
Lucy went off to dance. Our conversation had unsettled me, so I went in search of a bit of peace and I found it, quite unexpectedly, at the bar. With so much wine at the dinner table and an embarrassment of waiters hovering to refill glasses, most people didn’t need to get their own drinks, so I sat on one of the bar stools and ordered a vodka.
As the bartender prepared a highball glass with ice, tonic and lime, a woman in black satin trousers and backless top climbed onto the stool next to me. She had long fair hair and I recognised her as Nick’s blonde from earlier. She gave me a weak smile and I couldn’t help notice the smudged mascara and watery eyes. When she started to sniffle, I couldn’t ignore her.
‘Is everything okay?’
The girl extracted a tattered tissue from her expensive-looking clutch, then blew her nose quite unselfconsciously. Good for her.
‘You’d think I could come to this amazing place and enjoy myself.’
She was American.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, like a British cliché. But what else was there to say? I was madly curious to know if she was Nick’s date.
She leant towards me. ‘Never get involved with an unavailable man.’
‘Too late.’
Why had I just said that?
She grinned. ‘I’m Pippa.’
‘Zoë. Pleased to meet you.’
She sighed. ‘Men should come with warning labels, don’t you think? “Commitment-phobic”, “Heartbreaker”, “Secretly gay”.’
Now, I was interested. Was I being unsisterly if I didn’t disclose the fact I knew who she was talking about?
She frowned, like she was weighing up asking me a question. Then her eyes shifted to something behind me. ‘Can I borrow your drink?’
She didn’t wait for an answer. She curled her hand around my glass and spr
ang to her feet.
I swivelled round just in time to see her throw my vodka tonic into the face of a very surprised-looking – and now very wet – Nick.
27
Total Eclipse of the Heart
The barman crashed a glass into a sink, but even the sound of it breaking didn’t distract me. Pippa placed the empty vodka glass on the bar. Then, with excessive politeness, she said: ‘I’m so sorry about your drink, Zoë.’ She nodded at Nick. ‘That asshole will pay for a replacement.’
Then she walked coolly away, while the rest of us picked our jaws off the floor.
Nick reacted first. He shook his head a couple of times – either in shock or to flick away the last dregs of vodka tonic. He was drenched, from his hairline down to a single drop pooling at the cleft of his chin. His neck was shiny, and dampness had even seeped into his collar and down the front of his shirt.
A splotch of green made me pause. I peered again.
Lodged between his bow tie and the starch of his collar was a wedge of lime.
I lost it.
I turned back to the bar, so he wouldn’t see how much I was laughing. Lung-bursting belly laughs that strained the seams of my dress. Oh God, I was going to rip it. I tried to distract myself by picking out the names of all the designer gins lined up against the back wall of the bar.
A figure moved in my peripheral vision and when I glanced to my left, Nick was sitting next to me. He hooked his finger between his Adam’s apple and collar and tugged his tie free. The lime tumbled to the floor between us.
It rolled in a lazy arc, holding our attention as if it were a grenade with its pin pulled out.
I chanced a look up and when Nick caught my eye, his face erupted into a smile and a roar of laughter escaped me.
This time, the giggles were even more violent. I bent double, my face practically on the bar, taking big gulps of air. I was half aware of yanking my thumbs under my dress at the armpits to stop myself spilling out. The poor barman didn’t know where to look, and suddenly found a stack of napkins that needed rearranging.
Soft laughter was coming from Nick, as he beckoned the barman over.
‘I owe this woman a drink.’
The barman looked from him to me uncertainly. ‘Vodka tonic?’
I nodded, not quite trusting myself to speak.
‘Make it two,’ Nick said. ‘With extra lime.’
That set me off again. Nick sighed and shook his head. ‘I’m never going to hear the end of this.’
‘From what Pippa said, it sounded like you deserved it.’
His eyes widened. ‘What did she tell you?’
‘We had a pretty long chat.’ It was a blatant lie, but Nick didn’t know that. And anyway, I was enjoying watching him squirm.
‘You didn’t want to hear my side of the story?’
‘Maybe you should be worrying less about filling me in about your lovers’ tiff and more about making it up to your date.’
‘She’s not my date.’
‘She confused you with someone else? I guess all the blokes here are dressed the same, so it’s an easy mistake to make. Next time, maybe come in a clown’s outfit.’
‘We had a spare ticket in the office and I asked if she wanted to come. It was never a date.’
‘You keep saying that. But it makes no difference to me – why should I care who you hook up with?’
There was a hardness to my voice that he didn’t deserve.
He kept his eyes forward and didn’t reply.
The barman faffed around making our drinks, which gave us something to concentrate on other than our stilted conversation. First, he placed two paper coasters with frilly edges in front of us, then he went back for the two vodka tonics – both with lime – and then he returned with two clear plastic stirrers.
‘Would you like some olives?’ he asked.
I shook my head and Nick said, ‘No, thank you.’
‘So, what have you been up to?’ I said, after a couple of beats.
‘I’m no longer Marcie’s publicist.’
I gasped. ‘You really resigned?’
He held my eye. ‘I didn’t like the person I had become working for her.’
I didn’t know what to say. The silence was weighed down with a barrage of unspoken things. Feelings I’d pushed away, not daring to examine. Like how I’d felt at the brush of his hand against my leg in the Aston Martin; when I’d been pressed against him as he sang; when he’d kissed me. The memory made my blood surge. I felt hot and light-headed. I broke eye contact to take a sip of my mercifully strong drink.
I braved a glance back at Nick, whose attention was on his own glass. The top button of his white shirt was undone, his bow tie hung unknotted around his neck and his damp hair glistened in the low light.
He was stunning.
I’d always known that, but his good looks suddenly felt dangerous.
My breathing quickened; a response to the danger. Fight or flight instincts vying for control.
But I didn’t want to do either of those things.
When he did speak, he didn’t look at me. ‘Zoë, there are things about me you don’t know . . .’
I waited for him to continue, but his attention had snagged on the rows of spirits in front of us. Or maybe he was looking at the mirror behind the bottles, because there seemed to be a rather animated scene unfolding behind us.
His jaw clenched. ‘Fuck.’
He spun round and I twisted to see what he was looking at. A guy in jeans was arguing with a woman in a fifties dress. I hadn’t seen anyone wearing casual clothes, but the dress was definitely Lucy’s.
Then the man turned round and I froze. What was Jonny Delaney doing here?
Jonny must have felt his ears burning because he suddenly looked over. I could see Lucy pulling him back to her, but he shrugged her off and started to make his way towards us.
Nick rose and put himself between me and Jonny, which was a bit annoying because I wanted a clear view of him. What was Jonny’s beef?
I was about find out.
‘I want a word with you,’ he blustered as he approached the bar.
I was holding my drink, and for a brief moment, had a vision of myself chucking it over Jonny’s annoying floppy fringe.
‘A pleasure, as always.’ I added a fake smile in case he wasn’t au fait with sarcasm.
Nick looked from me to Jonny, trying to read the room.
‘Oh, you take a pleasure in ruining careers, do you?’
‘What on earth are you talking about?’
He rolled his eyes theatrically. ‘Don’t play dumb.’
Nick inched forward. ‘Leave it, Jonny.’
‘No, don’t leave it,’ I said, annoyed. ‘What stupidity has your tiny mind invented and blamed on me?’
‘Lucy denies it, but I know it was you. You’ve always hated me.’
Behind him, Lucy and Gav had appeared, looking rather shocked.
‘It’s true, boss,’ said a red-faced Gavin.
‘What’s true?’ Nobody was saying anything remotely useful. ‘Can someone please explain what the hell is going on?’ A few suits had turned to see what the fuss was, but I didn’t care.
‘Shut it, Gav,’ hissed Lucy.
Again, not helpful. ‘What’s true, Gav?’
‘Lucy’s in love with Jonny.’
This explained precisely nothing.
‘What?’ said Jonny.
‘Don’t be daft, Gav,’ mumbled Lucy. ‘It was just a snog.’
‘You snogged Jonny?’ I directed the question at Lucy, but then cut my eyes to Nick. He hadn’t reacted very much so far, and his face stayed blank now. Why had none of this surprised him?
‘Can we get back to the point, for fuck’s sake,’ said Jonny. ‘Which is that Zoë Bentos is trying to ruin my life.’
One day, the little shit would get my name right. ‘And how exactly am I doing that?’ I retorted.
‘You leaked the fact that I’m leaving the band.’
‘What? That’s preposterous – I had no idea.’
‘You overheard me on the London Eye.’
‘You’re delusional. Where exactly am I supposed to have leaked it?’
‘It’s all over the internet – BuzzFeed even has a quiz about it.’
‘And why would I do that?’
‘You’ve always had it in for me.’
Nick took a step forward. ‘Jonny, enough.’
Jonny turned to Nick and laughed. ‘And where were you when all this was going down?’
A vein in Nick’s jaw was pulsing. ‘Zoë didn’t leak anything.’
Jonny seemed oblivious to Nick’s anger. ‘Oh really? You’re sure? Or were you too busy boning the bitch to notice?’
There was a collective gasp from my team.
Whether it was because of Jonny’s choice of epithet or his insinuation that I was sleeping with Nick, I was unclear.
Nick shook his head then turned to me. He was smiling, but his eyes were black. ‘Remember that session with Carl?’
What was he talking about? The only Carl I could think of was our Boxercise instructor.
Oh.
Oh.
Jonny had no idea where this was heading. Rather pathetically, he seemed to have decided that goading Nick was the best plan of action.
‘Come on then, ya nancy.’ His accent seemed to have magically reverted to its Mancunian origins.
‘You can’t call him a nancy after implying he’s sleeping with a woman,’ muttered Gavin, who was taking things a bit too literally.
Nick had his right first curled, but his arm was hanging by his side. Jonny’s taunt hadn’t pushed him over the edge – yet.
‘Apologise to Zoë.’ Nick’s voice was calm.
‘Or?’
‘I won’t ask again, Jonny.’
‘Go fuck yourself.’
Nick shrugged, like he’d just been told the barista was out of his favourite hazelnut syrup.
The single punch that knocked Jonny to the floor seemed to come in slow motion. Nick’s elbow swung backwards then his fist smashed into Jonny’s face. Jonny collapsed to the floor as if someone had removed all the bones in his legs.
Love Songs for Sceptics Page 27