I hung up and pressed receive to Nick’s incoming call.
‘Um, hi, can’t really talk right now. I’m hiding in a bush.’
He laughed. ‘We need to get paparazzi shots of that!’
‘Please don’t. I have a reputation to uphold, as a celebrity babysitter. They can’t be led to believe that I plant-sit too, otherwise my schedule would become overly demanding,’ I said wryly.
‘What type of plant are you sitting now?’ he joked.
‘A prickly one. Seriously, I’m getting prickled as we speak.’
‘Well, we’ve lined up a press conference for tomorrow, and you’ll be pleased to know there’s no bushes in sight at the building. And we had confirmation from the Californian office, we just need to keep Honey clean and happy for another few weeks, and then she’ll be back on a plane to LA.’
‘Are we going to babysit her the entire time?’ I felt concerned thinking about all the work that was sitting back on my desk that I had to do.
‘Well, Phil’s picked up your event schedule and is looking after all the caterers and menu options,’ Nick said. I thanked Phil silently. ‘And I’ll come and do a Honey shift now, plus if you take this week, I’ll take the following one, if that helps.’
‘Thank you,’ I said gratefully. ‘It does.’
When Nick arrived after the morning tea and successful faux gym session, Honey immediately perked up, and I could see why. With his open-collared white shirt, and designer black sunglasses, admittedly, he looked quite lovely. OK, I’ll admit it, he looked hot. So, I could see why Honey was suddenly retouching her shiny pink lip gloss.
‘How’s the prisoner?’ He walked across the park to me, taking off his sunglasses and hooking them on his open shirt.
‘Oh, she’s fine, just done her workout,’ I said, picking up the call sheet, and filling up Honey’s water bottle by the fountain.
‘No, I meant you.’ He smiled warmly.
‘Oh, well.’ I shoved my arm out. ‘I look like I’m the lead character in some kind of Outbreak movie.’
‘The one that gets a mysterious rash, and dies first?’
I laughed and said, ‘Patient X. Yep. That about sums it up.’
Honey trotted over, with a smile and glossy, perfect lips. ‘I’m Honey,’ she positively purred, smiling at Nick.
‘Nick.’ He grinned and took her hand. ‘Nice to finally meet you.’
‘So you’re, um …?’ She looked at me, then Nick.
‘My boss,’ I said. ‘Nick Taylor.’
‘Oh.’ A large smile took over her face. ‘And my new minder?’ She was actually batting her eyelashes. You can’t be serious, I thought. No one would buy this. But when I looked at Nick, it seemed he was buying every bit of it.
‘Right, well, I better get packed up,’ I said, leaving them to it, because the pretend gym equipment we’d had on the lawn for her workout session wouldn’t pack up itself.
While I was picking up her tiny pink dumbells, I caught a glimpse of Nick and Honey still talking over by the fence. Honey was tossing her hair back and forth, and giggling at something Nick had said. At one point she even put her hand on his arm, delicately. I stopped for a second to see how he’d react, half hoping he’d step away, or pull back, but he just let her keep her hand there until she finally removed it, and put another layer of lip gloss on her perfect lips.
I should be taking notes on how to flirt like a gorgeous actress, but I was too busy folding up her yoga mat, kneeling on the wet grass getting green stains, sweating in my heavy maroon dress, and wondering how I’d got here. Just a few months ago I’d been travelling in the French countryside for a weekend, and now I was babysitting a girl so she didn’t have a drink and get behind the wheel, or throw a punch at a policeman.
When I finished packing up the gear, I went back to where Honey was fixing her hair, looking at her iPhone and taking a range of Snapchat selfies with the butterfly filter, so it looked as if actual butterflies were flying above her head.
‘Emma, get in on this!’ she said, laughing and trying to point the phone in my direction.
‘Um! No, thanks!’ I ducked down into a squat, behind the stone fence she was sitting on, which I knew looked ridiculous. But I didn’t want to go out live or viral, or whatever, on Honey’s social media with fake yellow wings batting above my head. That wasn’t the idea of what a classy PR person did. Plus, I was also sporting some very large undereye bags that my cheap five-dollar night cream wasn’t getting rid of, as it promised, and standing next to Honey I would have looked sagging and flabby, as if I were a hundred years old.
When she put her phone down, and it seemed safe, I stood and gave a quick glance over to see where everyone else was – thankfully it seemed all the photographers had packed up and gone home, and no one had seen me squatting by the stone wall. ‘OK, Honey, anything else you need before I head back to the office?’
‘Well.’ Honey smiled, picking up her phone again, and scrolling through Instagram, then glancing over at Nick, who was at the other end of the park, speaking to some guy sitting on a black scooter. ‘I thought we could go to Feast.’
‘Feast?’ I asked, trying to think if that was a new style of eating, or a place.
‘Jimmy Loudin’s new restaurant,’ she said, and whilst I was wondering who was Jimmy Loudin – was he a celebrity? Or a chef? Or both? – she smiled. ‘I love that you don’t know the latest places. It must be so nice to not have to keep up appearances.’
Was that what I was doing? Not keeping up appearances?
Honey looked at me through her large bug-eyed sunglasses. ‘You know, that boss of yours is pretty cute.’
‘Is he?’ I said, trying not to look at him.
‘And maybe, I was wondering,’ she started, ‘if Nick could take me. To Feast, I mean.’
‘Nick?’ I repeated.
She nodded and smiled. ‘Do you know if he’s single?’
Suddenly it felt as if she’d punched me in the stomach. ‘Uh, I’m not sure.’
‘Can you find out?’ she asked, as easily as if she were asking me to pass her a pen.
‘Sure … I’ll ask,’ I said, wondering how the hell I could ask Nick that question.
‘Now?’ Honey smiled sweetly.
Now, in a park? While Honey was watching? I wanted to tell Honey to ask him herself, why did I have to be the middle man? But Glenn had said, ‘Anything Honey wants, Honey gets.’ My stomach sank. How I could be subtle and professional about this? The answer was, I couldn’t. I wished I’d packed a hip flask of whisky along with this damn yoga mat. I could really do with a shot or five right now.
‘Sure, uh, now is fine,’ I agreed, feeling slightly ill at the thought of what I was about to do.
OK, here goes. I took a deep breath and started walking over to where Nick was still chatting to the scooter guy. I decided it was best to just ask Nick, straight away. Not wait for a second, because then I’d chicken out. Just walk straight up, rip the Band-Aid off and ask.
Trying not to concentrate on the butterflies in my stomach, I marched right up to Nick and said straight out, ‘Hi, Nick. Um, I need to ask you something. Are you single?’
As soon as I said it I cringed inside, because this was not the kind of question you should ask your boss. Ever. Nick looked shocked.
‘I, uh …’ He looked uncomfortable. He fumbled a bit and it was almost endearing that he was having so much trouble answering what should be a very simple question.
The guy on the moped removed his helmet, revealing green eyes and dark hair, and olive skin with a few wrinkles. He looked about forty. He leaned in, interested in Nick’s answer. Who was this guy? A friend?
‘Maybe we could chat over here.’ Nick gave a quick goodbye nod to the guy on the bike, and then walked away, turning around a few metres later to say, with another one of his unreadable poker faces, ‘Emma, do you know who that was?’
I shook my head.
‘Tom, from TakeOutMedia,’ Nick said.
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‘That was the Tom?’ I’d expected paparazzi to look dirty, maybe even sleazy, but that guy looked as if he’d actually just be an everyday guy who spent Saturdays playing basketball with his friends.
‘You can’t ask those questions,’ he said, ‘in front of people like that.’ He nodded towards where Tom was still sitting on his moped, unsuccessfully trying to listen in over the steady stream of traffic in the background.
‘In front of the people that we’ve staged photos for, we can’t talk about whether or not you’re seeing someone?’ I asked, dumbfounded.
‘Well, yes, people can make anything look real if they hear rumours. Put two and two together, make five. Especially around people like Honey.’ Nick looked over at Tom, who was finally leaving, and seemed to relax a little more knowing there were no eyes on him.
Nick turned back to me. ‘And, more to the point, why do you want to know if I’m single?’ Nick said, staring into my eyes. His wonderful chocolate eyes. TURN AWAY, EMMA, NOW. I looked at the ground.
If he was single, wouldn’t he have just said yes? The way he was talking suggested he was well and truly not single. For some reason, I felt a little clench in my stomach.
‘It’s not for me. Honey’s asking,’ I said, still looking at the ground and then my fingernails, as though they were suddenly very interesting.
‘Oh. Right.’
As if on cue, my phone beeped. It was Honey. She wrote: FEAST? NICK? I looked across the park at her, but she was too busy scrolling and pretending not to look at me.
I tried to keep a steady tone, and keep one shred of dignity, but I thought I’d lost all of that by now. ‘Honey wants me to ask you another question.’ I felt as if I were back at high school.
Nick raised his eyebrows and when I looked up from my phone, I could tell he definitely looked as uncomfortable as I felt.
‘She wants to go to, uh, dinner with you,’ I offered Nick.
‘Does she?’ he said, and I tried reading his face, but I couldn’t tell how he felt about it. He would have made a great poker player.
‘Should I, um, arrange something?’ I probed, now burning with curiosity to know if he would accept.
He looked at me for a while, again with the unreadable face, and it was impossible to tell what was going on behind those chocolate eyes of his, before he said, ‘Sure. Yes. Do that. I think Oil and Salt is good, for Friday night. Would you mind making us a reservation for 8 p.m.?’
And just like that it hit home. Maybe Nick liked Honey. What man wouldn’t love her? Heck, she had driven me almost crazy these past few weeks, and still I found her endearing. Her large eyes. Gorgeous hair. Glowing, young skin with zero wrinkles and a mischievous smile.
Of course, Nick liked her. And now they were going to dinner together. And clearly, my job was not only to be Honey’s babysitter, but also restaurant coordinator for the gorgeous Honey and the man I’d once had sex with. How low could I go?
I suppose I could go lower; I could be expected to hand-wash their underwear whilst they had loud and amazing sex upstairs. I wondered if Honey was the kind of person who screamed loudly and whispered dirty things, and I decided she very much was. People who hit police were always a freak in the sheets. And Nick liked that. Shower. Suds. I gulped.
‘Actually, she wants to go to Feast. Tonight.’
‘Well, what Honey asks for—’ Nick started to say.
‘Honey gets,’ I finished for him.
He nodded. ‘But I can’t do tonight, I’m afraid. Would you mind stepping in? I promise I’ll do Friday.’
‘Sure,’ I said, mentally wiping away my social calendar. I mean, it wasn’t as if I had an exciting week of events planned. ‘But I can’t say Honey will be pleased to have me opposite her at the table.’
Nick grinned. ‘I can’t see why not. Tell Honey I will gladly see her at Oil and Salt on Friday.’ He pulled out his calendar on his phone. ‘And if you wouldn’t mind confirming the media rules for Honey’s press conference. Remember they can’t ask about the DUIs or her romantic life.’
‘Got it,’ I said, taking a deep breath. Romantic life. Did that include him? Honey and him on her chaise longue. Doing it on the terrace with a choice of uninterrupted views.
Honey arrived with an extra coat of shimmering nude lip gloss on her lips, and asked Nick if he was ready to go. He opened the car door for her, and she got in, saying something about desperately needing a coffee after such a boring morning. Nick laughed at something else she said, and the two of them looked like the most perfect couple, taking off and giving me a wave.
Right, back to work, I reminded myself, determined to never again think about Honey and Nick having hot sex.
Chapter 21
Wednesday’s press conference was full of eager young journalists trying to trip up Honey, but she handled it like a pro. Her acting ability came out in full force. Even I started to believe that she really did care about the children and the orphanages.
Nick and I were standing at the back of the room, listening as Honey was describing how she was going to Africa next.
‘News to me,’ I said to Nick with my eyebrows raised.
‘And me.’ He grinned at me.
‘Don’t tell me – I get to book those flights, maybe even go with her?’ I whispered with a smile. ‘She loves the way I make a cup of tea.’
‘Good try,’ Nick said, smiling back at me, with his gorgeous straight white teeth.
See, there you go – we were smiling at each other, as if working with each other was all too easy. Colleagues. That was what we were. Sharing a work joke. And I was absolutely fine …
Nick asked, ‘How was the dinner at Feast?’
‘Fancy. I had the best wagyu beef I’ve ever tasted.’
‘And Honey?’ Nick asked, probing a little more.
‘She had the salmon. And then tried to flirt with some hotshot real-estate guy at the table next to us, who turned out to be waiting for his wife.’
‘Oh.’ He looked at me and I could tell he was twitching not to laugh.
‘It’s not funny!’
‘Maybe a little?’
‘Maybe,’ I said wryly, because the look on his face was almost contagious.
As the press conference went on I could tell the journalists were really warming to Honey, and why wouldn’t they? She was graceful, and beautiful and poised and sat like a ballerina. Plus, she was saying all the right things, just as we’d prepped her to say.
‘You know, these are perfect media bites leading up to Macabre,’ Nick said, looking so pleased that I wondered if he was thinking about his date with Honey this Friday too.
‘The event that I feel so behind on,’ I said, worried.
‘Do you need help?’ He was looking at me so sympathetically I almost said yes.
‘Should be fine.’ I wanted him to know I could do this myself. All alone. ‘But I’ll be working late tonight – what should we do with Honey? I’m not sure she wants to hang out at the office. Could you help out?’
‘Oh, Emma, I’m really sorry,’ Nick said. ‘I have something that I can’t move. Normally, I’d take this one, because I know you’ve been doing a lot, especially with Honey. Would you mind?’
‘Me? Tonight?’ Well, it wasn’t as if I had anything else to do. Oh wait, except plan a massive event.
‘Yeah, she wanted to go to Pool, that new club,’ Nick mentioned.
‘A club? That can’t be good.’ I wondered how I’d be able to keep her away from the bar.
‘Better a few drinks than telling her she can’t have any, then I think we’d have anarchy on our hands. Thanks for doing this, Emma. You’re a champ.’
A champ? That was the equivalent of patting me on the back and saying, ‘Great job, mate.’ It was what guys said to each other. Friends. Great, I thought glumly, I’ve had sex with a guy who turned out to be my boss, and now I’m babysitting his new crush, and a ‘champ’.
My life truly felt as if it was heading down the gur
gler.
***
On Thursday morning, I sank into my office chair, and had to resist letting my head rest on my desk, because I’d surely fall into a deep, snoring kind of sleep. I’d been at Pool all night, then up at 5 a.m., because Honey had a hankering for donuts. Donuts.
But not any old donuts, the ones with extra sugar and glaze, she texted, you know the ones I mean xx, which meant I had to take a taxi out to the airport to pick up a batch. Problem was they didn’t open until 7 a.m. and the taxi left, so I waited in the cold out there, without so much as a coffee to keep me going.
I desperately wanted to go home and curl up in bed, or call in sick, because I had the shakes from lack of sleep, but I couldn’t because there was so much to do. There was media to confirm, and more Honey interviews, and paparazzi pics to stage (sigh) and a final press release to announce the theme of the night – which we’d managed to keep a secret this entire time – and quotes, and the daily media alerts and … My brain was jumbling at the thought of my to-do list. I even considered snorting donut sugar just to get through the day.
By the time I got into the office, I was so exhausted.
‘How was Pool?’ Phil asked as soon as I got in. ‘Looks like you were there all night.’
‘Except for the three hours I’ve slept, plus the dawn donut run,’ I said, resisting putting my head on the desk. It just looked so … comfy.
Phil raised his eyebrows.
‘Oh, yeah, Pool is amazing, if you like your head being beaten by duff-duff music around a small little pool, where people were literally in itty bitty bikinis, and Honey complaining that I couldn’t get her into the VIP VIP section. There are not enough vodkas in this world. Or coffee,’ I said, taking a large gulp of my extra-strong, double shot cappuccino. ‘Speaking of coffee, where is our quick catch-up meeting this morning? And do you know where Nick is?’
‘He’s been in meetings. By the way, there’s a rumour going around that there’s a girl he’s seeing, or into.’
‘Oh.’ I felt a bit sick all of a sudden. I tried to ask casually, ‘Any idea who?’ Hoping he wouldn’t say Honey.
Just As You Are Page 17