“And he didn’t take you?” There was a pause as Jerry realised his mistake. “Well, no, I guess not. You wouldn’t have wanted to go, though, would you?”
“No, but it’s nice to be asked.”
“He didn’t ask you? The way you two look at each other, I thought you couldn’t bear to be apart for more than a few seconds.”
“It didn’t occur to you that we might be faking for the cameras?”
“Give me some credit. I’ve been on the receiving end of your fake adoring looks. I’d recognise them a mile off. Whatever you and Red say, or think, you two are for real, so don’t give me any of that rubbish.”
“Yeah, OK, so it’s not all fake, but … oh, I don’t know … it’s all so weird. I could so do without this show,” Lisa said, although come to think of it the show was the whole reason they were together, so wishing it away did seem a bit hypocritical.
“Sounds like a two bottle evening,” Jerry said, and Lisa smiled in spite of herself.
“I’ll get a taxi and bring a bottle round, shall I?” For a moment, the thought of getting in a taxi terrified her, but she wasn’t going to give in to an irrational fear. Still, she made sure to call the local firm she’d been using for five years, and ask for one of their familiar drivers.
After a few minutes’ chat with the driver, she felt more relaxed. Maybe she wouldn’t even need the second bottle of wine when she got to Jerry’s. Though, come to think of it, that had never stopped them before.
She had to juggle her handbag and the cold wine bottle to open the front door, which Jerry buzzed for her. Normally he came down, but she could appreciate that with the crutches it was a little trickier than usual.
“So what’s new with you?” she asked as she set out wine glasses and poured, letting Jerry remain with his foot up on the sofa. “How’s, um, thingybob?” She’d given up trying to remember names, and it never seemed to offend Jerry. Not that much ever did.
“Fine, I think, but it’s not going anywhere between us. That’s fine with me, though. I’ve got other things to think about.”
“Oh, are you in love again?” Lisa asked, trying not to sound cynical. Just because her own love life had always been a disaster, was no reason to expect Jerry’s should be the same. One day he’d find some perfect guy and settle down to a lifetime of pipes and slippers, or whatever represented cosy domesticity for gay men. Maybe it was in the air at the moment, because Lisa’s life was certainly looking rosier than it had for a long time.
“In love?” For once Jerry seemed to be thinking about the question instead of just launching into a paean of praise to his latest fancy. “I don’t know. There’s someone … he’s pretty special … but it’s complicated.”
“Complicated?” This was a new departure for Jerry, whose relationships had typically been limited to simple unrequited, or occasionally requited, lusts.
“Yes. He’s … well, he’s not out.”
“But he is interested?”
“I think so. I mean, it’s obvious he’s bent, if you know what to look for, but nobody else seems to know, and the papers would have a field day if they found out. He’d be in a shitload of trouble.”
“The papers?” Lisa seemed to be losing her grip on the conversation and stupidly echoing everything Jerry said. But where on earth had he found someone the papers would have a field day with? She tried to imagine Jerry involved with a politician, a film star, a pop singer, someone the tabloids regularly dished the dirt on, but the image refused to gel. For all his flashy style and pretence at the wild life, Jerry was a gentle home lover, and it was impossible to imagine him the eye-candy partner of a media-hungry celebrity.
Lisa had never liked the media, and her involvement with Couples had only served to cement her distaste for their shallowness. And now Jerry was getting interested in somebody who the papers would hang out to dry if they got wind of the relationship. This wasn’t good.
“Jerry, who is this guy?”
There was a long pause. Jerry looked down at the table, then over Lisa’s left shoulder. He stirred his coffee, took a sip, and put the cup down again. Finally, when Lisa had begun to think he wasn’t going to tell her, and to wonder whether maybe it would be easier if she never knew, he took a long slow breath and answered, “It’s … Fritz.”
The silence after he had spoken stretched even longer and more awkwardly than the one before. “He’s … ” Lisa began finally, and then paused as she wondered where to begin objecting. He’s … what? Straight? Maybe not. Now that Lisa thought about it, he and Kathrin seemed to have a pleasantly comradely relationship not at all like Harry and Tiffany’s cool, suppressed passion or the Braithwaites’ blatant affection. There was something a little odd about it, and about Fritz’s manner around the other guys on the show — he always seemed to be holding back a little. There was more emotion in his eyes than his words had ever seemed to express, but Lisa had always assumed that was because English was his second language.
He’s … OK, gay made sense, but … wasn’t he with Kathrin? Did she know? Was she colluding in the fantasy, or had he fooled her along with the TV crew and the papers?
No wonder Jerry said the media would have a field day.
“He’s in the show. With Kathrin. Jerry, you can’t ruin that for him.” Whatever else, Fritz and Kathrin seemed like decent people. There was the small matter of lying about his sexuality, of course, but Lisa couldn’t exactly take the moral high ground on that one.
“Of course not,” Jerry said, outraged at the suggestion that he would take risks with Fritz’s happiness. “But maybe after the show … ”
Lisa almost wished she could fast forward for six weeks. She had the sense that a lot of things were going to be different after the show.
But then, after the show, she still hadn’t lost the sense that Redmond might just disappear back into the Florida sunshine. When he was in her life and her bed, it felt real, but right now there was an ocean between them, and she found it hard to imagine a future after the end of the show. No matter how much sense it made, she couldn’t wish that moment closer.
“Maybe … ” Lisa agreed slowly. “But Fritz? How on earth did that happen?”
Jerry spread his hands out, a slow gesture indicating his bewilderment. “I don’t know. He’s just … a really sweet guy, you know. Seeing him at the filming of the show, and you know they demo at the dances at the Carlton, where I take my sister sometimes?” Lisa had forgotten Jerry had been at the filming, and she hadn’t known about where Fritz and Kathrin did demos, but she knew of the dances at the Carlton, so she nodded anyway to indicate her familiarity. She didn’t want to break up Jerry’s unusually serious confiding mood by asking more questions.
“Well, anyway, I don’t know. I don’t suppose anything will come of it. But I can still enjoy him from afar. There’s no harm in that, is there?”
Lisa shook her head, but privately she wondered. She’d spent years loving Redmond from afar, and all it had done was spoiled her for anyone else. It certainly hadn’t made things any easier once he’d come back on the scene.
“I don’t suppose so,” she agreed. Then something, possibly the wine, made her continue. “Sometimes I wish that was all I’d done.”
“Really? I thought everything was all sweetness and light now. Or is that just another act for the cameras?”
“I don’t know.” Lisa couldn’t believe she was opening herself up like this, but at least it was to someone she could trust. If she’d tried to bottle things up much longer, she wouldn’t have been surprised if she ended up spilling her story to one of the camera crew, and then where would she be?
Somehow the process of hearing what she’d said, and reasoning with herself about how much more she could safely reveal, resulted in a long pause in the conversation. That was probably also down to the wine, she thought muzzily
. “Sometimes it just seems so perfect. And sometimes it seems too perfect. You know, as if I must be dreaming. What the hell would ‘Mr. Cosmopolitan travelled the world and danced with beautiful women from six continents’ want with little me? And I just know I’m going to wake up like Cinderella after the ball, but nobody’s going to come round with a glass slipper.”
“Lisa, Lisa,” Jerry said, shaking his head sorrowfully. “What are we going to do with you? You should know you could compete with anyone on any continent. As a dancer, and as a person. Why, sometimes you even make me wish I was straight.”
“Thanks, I think.” Lisa smiled, and held out her glass for a top-up. Thank goodness she could always rely on Jerry to make her feel better. Why on earth couldn’t straight men be so uncomplicated?
“So tell me the important bit,” Jerry continued, unperturbed by her reaction to his compliment. “What is it about Redmond? I mean, OK, I can see the appeal of the football player physique, but there’s got to be more to it than that. Muscles alone don’t melt the heart of a discerning lady like yourself.”
Lisa laughed and shook her head, but she still gave the question the attention it deserved. Oddly, she’d never really thought about what made Redmond so special. She’d just taken it for granted that he was. Maybe it was just because he acted as if he thought he was special, but surely she couldn’t be so easily swayed by a classic case of masculine arrogance?
After a moment, Lisa concluded, “Well, yes, it’s his looks, but also who he is. He’s good fun to be around. And caring.”
“And I’m not?” Jerry asked, looking mock woebegone.
Lisa didn’t deign to answer that. Instead, she added, deadpan, “And heterosexual.” Then she added, surprising even herself, “Not to mention great in bed.”
Jerry spluttered out a laugh. “Lisa! I’m shocked!”
Lisa looked at him all wide-eyed innocence. “What? We’re all grown-ups. I didn’t think you were so easily shocked.”
Jerry smiled. “I was just surprised. You don’t normally say things like that.”
Lisa forbore from answering that she also didn’t normally get to go to bed with guys quite as amazing as Redmond. That might have led to more detail than Jerry needed to know.
Instead, she let the conversation drift back to safer topics, and eventually the last of the wine had been consumed and she reluctantly made a move to call a taxi and head home.
• • •
Back in her empty flat, she couldn’t believe how quickly she’d got used to having company around the place. After two nights of Redmond’s presence, her bed felt cold and empty, and the living room was so silent she thought she could hear the echoes of her footsteps when she walked through it. As for the kitchen, she hardly dared go in there, because everything about it taunted her: memories of Redmond’s caresses, the novelty of cooking real food, and even the taste of chocolate accentuated her loneliness. So now she knew what it would be like if Redmond went back to America to live, and she wasn’t enjoying the thought.
Since the oversleeping disaster she’d been rigorous about setting her alarm, to the point that on Saturday it woke her at seven even though she didn’t need to be up for hours.
She turned on the radio as soon as she got into the kitchen. The announcer was wittering about yesterday’s TV, and Lisa half-listened as she boiled the kettle and poured herself a mug of tea. She understood logically about the dehydrating effect of alcohol, but it still struck her as bizarre that the more you drank, the more you needed to drink.
After a few mouthfuls of tea, she realised it was time for some breakfast, and dumped two slices of bread in the toaster. While sipping tea and waiting for the toast, she was surprised to hear her own name. She looked at the radio in surprise, as if to ask it what it meant by addressing her directly. The announcer was talking about the Couples show. Somehow, Lisa had managed to forget that the first episode had aired on Friday. Thinking back, she realised it had been on when she was catching the taxi over to Jerry’s. He must have just finished watching it when she arrived. Or perhaps he’d recorded it for later. She must text him and find out if it was still on his recorder. Given that his latest crush was in it, she’d happily bet that it was.
She was thinking this with only half her mind, though. The rest was set on trying to reconstruct from the last few words what the announcer was saying about the show. He seemed to be generally positive, and sympathetic to Lisa for the “accident,” which he stopped just short of suggesting was deliberate sabotage. Still, the hint of an accusation was there, and Lisa was pleased that Tiffany’s insults didn’t seem to be taking hold. Surely nobody believed Lisa and Red would have been so clumsy as to dance into Tiffany and Harry’s path.
Lisa belatedly realised that she hadn’t checked for messages last night when she got in. She took her tea into the lounge and pressed play, then took the phone with her to the kitchen when she realised there were half a dozen messages to listen to.
The first was Terri, congratulating her on Redmond and the show and suggesting she ring around lunchtime one day for a proper chat.
The second was Red himself, saying hi from America and confirming that he was still due back on Saturday and should see her at the studio. She wished he’d rung before she went out. Hearing his voice made her realise how sad it was not to be sharing the first week of the show with him.
The third message was a man’s voice, but he didn’t identify himself immediately.
“Lisa?” The speaking voice sounded: cold and formal yet familiar. It took Lisa a second to place it, and then her heart sank. Alan. A call from your boss after you’d left work on a Friday night was never a good thing. At best it meant extra work. At worst, disaster.
“Lisa, I tried your mobile but you weren’t picking up. Please call me as soon as you get this message.” He left his mobile number, presumably not realising it was ingrained in Lisa’s mind anyway.
The fourth message was Marian, ringing to say she’d seen the show and Lisa and Red looked fantastic. She could quite see what Lisa saw in Redmond. Lucky lady!
Lisa didn’t feel lucky at the moment. She felt tired and headachy and full of foreboding, especially when the fifth message proved to be Alan again, hoping he hadn’t misdialled the first time and leaving his number again.
What did Gary want now? She was sure it had to be something to do with Gary. He was nothing but trouble.
Lisa took the toast out of the toaster, but decided she needed to get the call over with sooner rather than later. She dialled Alan’s mobile and he answered immediately.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
This was disaster, then. She racked her brains. She’d managed to get away with the lateness earlier in the week, and since then she thought she’d been on her best behaviour. Well, apart from grumbling a bit about Gary, but that was only to be expected. He was the world’s worst client. But she’d only done it aloud when Alan was well and truly out of earshot. Well, and that one email …
And then, a split second before the words came out of Alan’s mouth, she realised. One email complaining to Marian about Gary, typed in a hurry at the end of a long and depressing day. One email which she only now recalled seeing disappear into the ether with Gary’s too-familiar email address at the top. Surely she hadn’t typed his address out of sheer force of habit?
“Only bloody sent an email to the client slagging him off and using an insulting nickname,” Alan ranted. So that answered her question. She had sent it to Gary, not Marian. “Honestly, Lisa, I’ve never heard of anything so unprofessional. I’ve thought you’ve been a bit off form lately, but this is something else entirely. I’m sorry, but I can’t have staff jeopardising our reputation in this way. Gary’s out for blood so unless you’ve got a very good explanation, don’t bother coming in on Monday. Marian will be handling the account from now on. I’
ll be kind and call it redundancy, so you’ll get pay in lieu of notice and as nice a reference as I dare under the circumstances. As I say, I’m sorry it’s turned out like this, but I can’t risk Gary turning up and finding you still in the office.”
Lisa wanted to cry, scream, and demand he hear her side of the story, but the truth was that there was no other side, and they both knew it.
“Sorry, Alan,” she said heavily. “I know it was stupid. I wasn’t thinking.”
“You can say that again,” he said, sounding no happier at the situation than she was. “I’ll clear your desk for you on Monday. Is there anything you need?”
She thought about it, and concluded that she could well live without the cough sweets, old makeup, and tissues that had been the only things in her desk she actually owned. The address book and diary belonged to the company anyway, as did the stack of Marketing Week magazines, although she could have done with those for job hunting. The thought threatened to set tears off, so she hastily turned down the offer and rang off.
Alan assured her that HR would be in touch. She wasn’t looking forward to it.
She curled up in the corner of the sofa and stared at the floor. How could she have been so stupid? She knew exactly what she’d done; had realised it even before Alan told her. But why? Her mind had just been somewhere else all week.
And now, as if the competition, saving the studio, and starting a long-distance relationship were not enough to worry about, she had to find another job. Oh God, where to start?
Chapter 12
Stunned by her news, Lisa didn’t know quite what to do for the next three hours. She’d thought of logging into her work emails and clearing a few overdue tasks, but there didn’t seem much point now, so she settled for cleaning the kitchen. Sometimes when the world was in chaos, it was a comfort to restore order in a small way.
She emptied the accumulated rubbish of the last two weeks into a bin bag and lugged it out to the bin shed at the back of the car park. The air was thick with fog, and she wondered what it would be like for Redmond coming back to this. From Florida sunshine, he’d be stepping off the plane to air so moist you could almost feel the liquid on your tongue. In the car headlights on the road outside, she could see the drops swirling like angel dust. It was the kind of morning that meant if you were in the right mood you could believe in magic — ghosts coming through the mist, figures seen out of the corner of your eye that dissolved as soon as you looked at them. But the magic wasn’t always benign. The red tail lights of passing traffic had a devilish feel. Or maybe that was just Lisa’s mood.
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