The Revenge Date/Ten Reasons to Say I Don't Bundle (Romantic Comedy)

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The Revenge Date/Ten Reasons to Say I Don't Bundle (Romantic Comedy) Page 25

by Geraldine Fonteroy


  Sinking down on the hard steel chair beside the bed, Henri grabbed a still, white hand. ‘Oh Peter, what have you done?’

  ‘I can’t really remember.’

  The voice made her jump. ‘God, I thought you were–’

  ‘Dead?’ He winked. Actually winked.

  Was it wrong to want to punch someone who was so sick?

  ‘Could I be dead, attached to all this stuff?’

  ‘I was going to say asleep. But quite frankly, dead would be good. What were you thinking?’

  ‘Obviously, that I wanted to be dead.’

  ‘Peter, why?’

  ‘What do you care?’

  Looking at her brother, a big, overweight guy tucked under a white sheet, his face almost blending with the bedding, she felt absolute pity. It must be difficult, being him. So clever, yet so stupid and immature at the same time.

  ‘I care. Otherwise I wouldn’t have spent what was supposed to be the best night of my life flying cattle class across America.’

  Peter tried to sit up. The machines went crazy and a nurse popped her head around the glass door and waggled a finger at him. ‘Mr Prime, you must stay still. Remember what the doctor said.’ She vanished, sensible shoes making a squishy sound on the industrial-strength floor vinyl.

  Falling back again, Peter said: ‘When I saw the doctor I was so pissed I couldn’t remember my own name. Why the fuck can’t I sit up?’

  ‘Because you nearly died?’

  ‘So? I didn’t.’

  God, he was impossible.

  ‘The night is young, big brother.’

  There was a moment’s silence. ‘You didn’t tell the parents, did you?’

  ‘No.’ Both were disgustingly healthy, but the news that their precious, Cambridge-educated son had tried to top himself might just induce concurrent heart failure.

  ‘Why, Peter?’

  ‘You know why?’

  Henri rubbed at tired eyes. It seemed like years since she had slept. ‘Peter, you virtually destroyed my radio career. Then you humiliated me by having Rodney on the show. Next, you set up a bogus benefactor for Raelene so that I would be pushed to the brink of despair and come back to your show. That’s hardly reason for you to try to kill yourself. Plenty of reasons for me to, though.’

  ‘Rodney wasn’t about humiliating you.’

  ‘Look, I don’t want to go over it–’

  ‘He was going to ask you to marry him. Bared his soul, told the whole of the U.S. that he made a mistake, that he still loved you.’

  ‘Really? That wasn’t what I heard?’

  Because you tuned out remember. You turned Ten Reasons off.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?

  ‘I tried. You wouldn’t talk to me.’

  ‘Then why didn’t he try?’

  ‘I did?’ Who was that? Someone, a guy, had interrupted their conversation.

  It can’t be?

  Shaking her head to clear the white noise, that beep beep was sending her nuts, Henri spun around towards the door.

  And came to face with Rodney.

  ‘Oh this is brilliant.’ Henri covered her face, now totally devoid of make-up, thanks to the sun and a long flight, in the hope that he would disappear.

  ‘Who’s this?’ Jess saw from the expression on Henri’s face that there was a story there he probably didn’t want to know about.

  ‘Who the hell are you?’ Rodney had never been one for subtleties, which was evident from the little radio prank.

  ‘I’m with Henri,’ Jess said quietly, looking directly at her.

  ‘Not for long,’ Rodney told him. ‘We are engaged.’

  ‘What? You’re engaged to fucking Ashley.’ The loud tone and uncharacteristic swearing shocked everyone in the room.

  ‘Not any more.’

  After glancing briefly at Henri, Jess quietly walked to the door and left.

  Oh, this was great. Honestly, just when she thought Peter couldn’t top the insanity he introduced into her life, this happens.

  Telling Rodney to get out; ignoring the protestations of both men, Henri turned to confront Peter. ‘You have got to be kidding me. What is he doing here?’

  ‘I called him.’

  ‘WHAT!’

  ‘Not for you, dear, self-obsessed sis. For me. There was no one else I could talk to. He called the paramedics, then flew straight over here. Bloody long flight, too. Must have just got here. Must have got some sort of private jet. That’s fucking bankers for you.’

  ‘Peter, you need to sort yourself out. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. I know you were disappointed that I didn’t turn up . . .’

  ‘It wasn’t just that.’ For the first time since they were kids, Peter actually looked contrite.

  ‘Really, what then?’

  ‘I think I am in love, Hen.’

  This must be a joke.

  ‘Very funny.’

  But the look on his face indicated it was no joke.

  She sighed. ‘That’s wonderful. Although you are clearly nuts. You should be singing and dancing about with joy, not sucking back enough booze and pills to kill a rhino.’

  ‘She doesn’t love me.’

  Oh, oh. The first woman he actually likes and she rejects him.

  ‘Who is she?’

  ‘Eva Claire.’

  ‘The blonde exec from MNC.’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘But you slept with her, didn’t you?’ Henri recalled a hazy conversation in which Peter declared he had ‘been there, done that’, when his sister had suggested Eva might be a fun date.

  ‘Yes, and now she won’t have me back. Says I am not serious.’

  Ah. It had finally happened. Peter had been thwarted by the infamous love bug.

  ‘No woman worth a penny or a dime or whatever is going to want a relationship based on casual sex, Peter. If you want her, you are going to have to offer her something other than your irresistible physique and bubbly personality.’

  ‘Harsh, I nearly died, you know.’

  ‘And I might just finish you off. Look, call her–’

  ‘I tried. She won’t answer.’

  ‘Keep trying. And promise her you’ll give a proper monogamous relationship a go. They did teach you the meaning of that word at Cambridge, didn’t they?’

  ‘Ha, hah.’

  ‘Seriously., keep trying, women like it when you don’t give up.’

  ‘Is that what I should tell Rodney?’ The cheeky smirk was back on Peter’s face.

  ‘I’ll deal with Rodney, you just get better.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  JESS STOOD TO ONE SIDE, THE now-familiar scowl replanted on the chiseled face. ‘This guy who says he is your fiancé . . .’

  ‘I dated him. He left me for my agent. Whom he is supposed to be marrying.’

  ‘Was,’ Rodney piped up. ‘Was marrying. Not now.’

  They swung around to see the slick banker, looking cool and dapper in some pricey suit, despite the weather. Jess didn’t look happy at the new development. That made two of them.

  ‘What the hell do you want, you broke up with me, remember?’ Henri eyes blazed.

  Rodney’s own were bulging at the tight jeans and busty top she had changed into before the flight. ‘You look incredible.’

  ‘You still look like a huge jerk.’

  Luckily, he had the good sense to back off.

  Henri had to call a line under this Rodney stuff, once and for all. And if she had to humiliate herself in front of Jess to do it, so be it.

  ‘Rodney, it’s never going to work with us, because, well, the reason I didn’t want to sleep with you is not because I am a virgin . . .’ She snuck a look over at Jess, whose mouth had dropped open in shock. ‘ . . . but because I just don’t find you attractive, in that way.’

  ‘What! You’re a virgin, how would you know?’

  ‘I dated you for so long. I didn’t know what it was all about. That your body, nor your brain, would tell you when you want
ed someone.’

  She looked purposely over at Jess, although all every fiber of her being was urging her to run away and avoid Jess and the subsequent embarrassment of the declaration.

  Jess was smiling. Widely.

  Thank God.

  On the other hand, Rodney usual healthy tan was looking remarkably like sunburn.

  ‘Bullshit, Henri. You loved me, you couldn’t get enough of me . . . ‘

  ‘Wrong. You’re wrong.’

  ‘It was just a ploy to get me down the aisle, and it worked, but in the meantime you’ve found some other sucker.’

  Finally, Jess gave in to the primitive within and slugged Rodney.

  ‘Ahhhhhh.’ The banker fell to the floor.

  Jess and Henri looked at each other. Jess held out a hand already reddening with what would be a whooper of a bruise. ‘Want to get the hell out of here before I am arrested?’

  Behind them, nurses were racing about, placing calls to security.

  ‘Absolutely!’ Stomach churning from the close contact, Henri took Jess’s hand carefully and they raced down the stairs next to the lift bank.

  ‘What about Peter?’

  Henri smiled. ‘Oh, I’ll sort him out. Don’t worry.’

  They checked into a manky little hotel nearby to clean up. After buying the plane tickets, neither of them could afford it, but at that point in time, little things like lack of funds didn’t matter. But the moment they were alone in the stinky, dark room, the were kissing each other passionately.

  Groin jumping, almost to a beat, Henri grabbed at Jess’s shirt. What the hell had she been waiting for?

  She’d never wanted this with Rodney.

  Pulling back, the deep blue eyes stared into hers. ‘Look, Henri, I don’t want you to think I want to . . .’ Jess looked uncomfortable. ‘If you don’t want to, that’s okay.’

  ‘No, no, I do.’ Even as she spoke the words, conflicting thoughts hit Henri’s brain. What was she doing? Was it right? But the way it felt, the way she wanted him . . . 26 years old and it had come to this.

  Come on Henri, enough is enough.

  Either she remained a virgin, or she got over the stupid worries and fears and just went with the feelings.

  She reached out her hand and felt for his fly.

  ‘Whoa, wait a minute.’ Jess pulled away.

  Great. Having only kissed a few men, Henri had no idea whether she was rubbish at all this or not. Rodney had ever-wandering hands and kept trying to get her to go further; she assumed all men wanted the same thing. Maybe Jess was having second thoughts.

  He sat her down on one of the twin beds. ‘Look, I have to tell you something, about Harvard. You have to promise not to tell Dad or Em.’

  Worse, he has some incurable STD. Great. Now her choice would be syphilis or virgin. Brilliant options. Not.

  ‘Sure, of course.’

  Jess sighed. ‘I made a girl pregnant.’

  Whoa! Hadn’t expected that.

  ‘Oh, Jess.’

  ‘She was called Beth, majoring in Law, like me. I loved her, wanted her to keep it. Offered to marry her.’

  Henri sensed there was a ‘but’ coming.

  ‘Then I found out she was seeing someone else. A younger guy. Philosophy major.’

  ‘So the baby was his?’

  ‘Well, maybe, but it didn’t matter. Even when I told her I would stand by her, she, well . . .’

  He was finding it difficult to get the words out.

  ‘She had an abortion.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Said it was her decision, which it was, but that kid could have been mine . . . and if I needed to, I would have raised it.’

  Talk about a mood killer. Henri was shocked that someone could behave like that. Sure, every woman had a right to make the choice, but to not even discuss it.

  ‘Jess, that is so horrible.’

  His eyes were moist. Just a little, not much, but enough. ‘I know. It makes me sound like a wimp to miss what might not even have been mine, but I do.’

  ‘I would never do that,’ Henri said.

  Jess smiled. ‘That’s why I like you so much.’

  ‘You’re not put off that I’m a virgin?’

  ‘It says a lot about you, Henri Prime. None of it negative.’

  And the next kiss didn’t end until much later in the afternoon.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  MUCH LATER THAN EVENING HENRI and Jess emerged from the hotel room and made their way along the road to something called ‘Shack’ that served everything one could want in a meal – as long as it contained ribs.

  ‘It sure doesn’t seem as if you’ve never done that before!´ Jess teased her playfully as they stomped along, trying not to breath in the smoggy air.

  They were still wearing their original clothes, and odd-people-out amongst all the would-be starlets

  ‘Can we talk about something else for a while? I feel enough of a freak about that without you mentioning it every five minutes.’

  ‘Come on, Henri. It’s no big deal.’

  Her phone rang. ‘Finally, she calls me back!’ Henri had phoned Eva Claire hours ago – although to be fair you couldn’t expect someone to call you back in the early hours of the morning, could you?

  ‘Eva, hi.’

  ‘What’s up?’ The tone was icy.

  Deciding to cut straight to the chase, Henri asked Eva to fly out to L.A.

  ‘I can’t, Henrietta. For a number of reasons.’

  ‘Look, Peter told me about you two–’

  ‘Ah, the serial monogamist comes clean to little sis, hah?’

  ‘I suppose.’

  ‘Your brother is an ass.’

  Boy was that the truth. ‘Eva, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but Peter tried to commit suicide.’

  ‘WHAT!’

  ‘They say he is going to be okay; insists he can do the show tomorrow night, but–’

  ‘Forget the show, why did he do it?’ She sounded frantic. Hmm, thought Henri. She loves him too.

  ‘A combination of two things.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Me and you?’

  A long silence met that statement.

  ‘Eva?’

  ‘Um, yes?’

  ‘Peter told me he loves you. Mind you, he doesn’t want to, which explains all that stalkerish behavior.’

  ‘I thought he just wanted sex.’

  ‘He did. Well, does. But the love bit, that’s true. So, if I were you, I’d get out here and lay out some ground rules.’

  ‘You mean for a relationship?’

  ‘Definitely. If you can make if before tomorrow morning he’ll still be in the hospital, which will make it harder for him to get away; dressed in that nightie with no back.’

  ‘Oh, right, well–’

  Jess nudged her. A surly girl from ‘Shack’ was waiting with menus.

  ‘Eva, must dash, but see you soon, okay?’

  But Eva didn’t answer so Henri hung up anyway and cosied up to her handsome man in the grotty booth of the L.A. eatery.

  Peter grabbed his trousers and pulled them on. They seemed loose. And he didn’t have a belt. Bloody hell, they’d have to do, for now. Trying to kill yourself obviously did wonders for the waistline.

  The door opened behind him. ‘Okay, Nurse Hatchetface, nearly ready. You’ll be rid of me in mere minutes now.’

  ‘I’m not sure I want to be rid of you.’

  No fucking way. Eva!

  Spinning around Peter tried to look solemn, to wipe the huge, inane grin from his face, but he just couldn’t. Wearing somber black trousers and a sleeveless knitted vest top, hair loose, she looked relaxed and utterly delectable. Better than he remembered.

  ‘Hi Peter.’

  ‘Eva.’ A whisper.

  She marched over to him.

  ‘Here’s how it’s going to go. We have a relationship. You don’t sleep with anyone else, and you behave in such a way that befits a superior radio personality, which
means no excess boozing or eating.’

  ‘Now, come on, isn’t that a little–’

  ‘Right, I’m leaving . . .’

  Shit. ‘No, that was a joke. I’ll do it all. I promise.’

  Was this what love did to a man? Made him a whiny mess.

  Then she was kissing him, over and over again, and Peter decided that whatever he had to give up to feel this fucking good, it was more than worth it.

  A few days later, all four of them – Henri, Jess, Peter and Eva, were having lunch in a far more salubrious local – Beverley Hills. They sat around a glass table under an umbrella in a garden filled with exotic (and rather sharp-edged) trees. The sun continued to beam so strongly that Henri wondered if it ever, ever rained in L.A.

  ‘So, Jess. Glad you finally brought my sister over to the dark side.’ Peter may now be in a committed relationship, but his lewd remarks had remained clear and constant.

 

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