by Louise Bay
I nodded, hating the attention but trying not to be rude, and excused myself. I scanned the room, trying to spot Haven. She wasn’t where I’d left her. I wanted to get to the bottom of who Luke was to her.
Haven
When we had arrived at the gallery, I’d wondered if we were in the right place. The exhibition was for a Jake Harrison. It was only when I saw Harry that I was convinced we hadn’t got lost.
“These photographs are beautiful, Haven,” Ash said, turning her head from right to left.
I nodded. “Yes, they’re better than I expected.” She was right; they were beautiful. I could see some portraits across the space from where we were, but we were surrounded by landscapes. They were huge and some of them were exposed in a way that gave them an abstract quality. But overwhelmingly, they were very romantic.
“Don’t be a bitch,” Luke said.
“I’m not. It’s just, he works at Rallegra. I didn’t expect him to be a serious, proper photographer. You know what Robert’s like. He’s always getting his friends jobs that they’re not qualified for.”
“I think Robert asked Jake, not the other way around. Jake’s got so much on with raising the money for Elemental Energy that I don’t think he would have done it for anyone else,” Beth said.
I hadn’t realized his sister was still around. I’d been too distracted by Harry’s unexpected talent.
“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to—”
“It’s fine,” she said as she rested her hand on my shoulder. “Really, I know Robert and he has loads of friends who dabble in things but aren’t really interested in doing anything with their lives. You should know by now that Jake doesn’t fall into that category.”
I nodded politely. I supposed there was no specific example of him being another of Robert’s posh friends—apart from his confidence and that he disappeared every now and then. Harry did seem to be a little different.
“To be honest, I don’t know a whole lot about him. Apparently, not even his name.”
Beth threw her head back and laughed. “Jake Harrison. Harry is a nickname. But it’s stuck and it suits him.”
I had thought that Harry and I had become close, so it was a shock to realize I didn’t even know his name. My cheeks heated. I felt ridiculous. And embarrassed that I’d assumed we had an intimacy we clearly didn’t. He’d kissed me. I’d kissed him back, and it seemed I knew nothing about him. Something about that stung. I wanted to know more. I wanted to know everything.
“And what were you saying about energy something?” I asked.
“Oh, don’t ask me about that! Jake always teases me that I can’t keep anything in my head for longer than two seconds. I’d better go and find out where he’s gone and stop him from snarling at whoever he’s talking to. It was so good to meet you.”
“So Licky is licky even when I’m sober, apparently,” Ash said as Beth disappeared into the crowd.
“Stop calling him that.” Harry was more than just handsome, and I didn’t like that Ash made him sound like something to ogle after.
“What? Is this the guy that you said was ‘fine’?” Luke asked.
Ash nodded. I tried to distract them by wandering over to one of the many photographs on the wall. The one I faced was of a bridge in the Scottish Highlands. The print was huge; it must have been six by three. There was a very wistful, romantic air about it. You could see the ends of the sunrise and the morning fog still clinging to the moss that had gathered on the rocks of the bridge. It was beautiful.
“Three thousand pounds!” I gasped when I saw the price.
“How much?” Ash asked.
“Well, that explains the Aston Martin,” I said.
“No, it does not explain the Aston Martin,” Ash said. “You really don’t have a clue, do you? He’s not driving what he’s driving by selling these photos. That comes from somewhere else.”
“He can’t help it if his father has money,” Luke said. “Some people have easier starts in life. You can’t resent them for it just because we struggled. We should be happy that others didn’t have to.” Luke had a way of shaming me like no one else could. I wanted to be a sister he could be proud of, but sometimes if felt like a hopeless quest.
I nodded and moved on to the next shot.
Over the next hour or so I caught glimpses of Harry chatting to various people throughout the evening, the ever-attentive Dave at his side. I was at the bar, refreshing our drinks, when he appeared next to me.
“You still here? Thought you’d have given up with this boring old stuff before now.”
“You think I can’t appreciate art?” I asked.
“I didn’t say that. Don’t get shitty. I just meant these are a bunch of pictures I’ve taken. I’m not sure why anyone has stuck around.”
“Free booze,” I said, grinning. He must have known he was talented, but I liked the fact he was playing it down, that he was understated about what he did.
Jake nodded.
“Do you really not think they’re any good, or is it the attention you don’t like?” I asked.
He looked at me, his eyes wandering to my lips and then back up. “I think they’re okay. I think if I didn’t know Dave, I wouldn’t have an exhibition, and I definitely don’t like the attention.”
“So you can answer a straight question with a straight answer.”
“Tell me when I haven’t, other than when you’ve been deflecting a question from me.”
It was true. He had always answered truthfully when I’d asked him a question. We smiled at each other and something in his eyes made me feel uncomfortable. It was as if he could see into me, to parts I worked hard to keep hidden, and I felt exposed. My stomach tilted.
“So which one is your favorite?” I asked, trying to pull myself back into reality.
“It’s not here. It’s at home.”
“The glamazon’s minding it for you, is she?”
“What?” He seemed confused.
“Millie, I think her name was.”
“Oh. Right. No. I don’t think she ever saw it.”
I smiled. “I’d better get back with these drinks.”
He nodded. “I’m still meeting you at the studios tomorrow?”
“Yes, eight sharp. See you then if I don’t see you later.”
As we made our way home in a cab, my phone buzzed in my bag.
Harry: You looked beautiful tonight.
My stomach flipped. How do I respond to that?
“Who is it?” Ash asked. She was so nosy.
“Just from Harry, thanking us for coming.”
“That’s sweet,” she said.
She and Luke exchanged another glance.
Haven: Thanks for the free booze. I liked your pictures.
It buzzed again.
Harry: Because of the alcohol? Nice.
Haven: Are you fishing for compliments?
Despite checking my phone every nine seconds for the rest of the evening, I went to bed without a reply.
The next day I drove into Pinewood Studios at ten minutes before eight and found Harry already waiting for me in what had become his usual spot. Last time we’d been here, he’d kissed me. Part of me hoped it would happen again.
“You’re early,” I said as he opened his door.
“So I could nap,” he said.
I smiled. “You’re funny.”
“I know. It’s a natural talent I have.”
“Did you have a good time last night?” I asked.
“Hmmm. In parts.”
“I was sorry not to see Millie again.” How come she hadn’t been there? I wanted to see her properly, and I wanted to understand the dynamic between her and Harry. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but I found it difficult for me to picture him with a high-maintenance glamazon.
Harry stopped and looked at me, then continued with our walk toward the stage.
“So your hair’s up again,” he said.
“Very observant.”
“Why
did you wear it down last night?”
Why are we talking about my hair? “I normally have it down when I’m not at work or running.”
“I like it down.”
My heart skipped. I wasn’t sure of the appropriate response. Did he just go around saying that to all the women he came across? Was I wrong to like it when he said things like that to me?
Seven
Jake
I’d decided that I wanted Haven and there wasn’t much I didn’t get when I set my mind to something. She was movie-star beautiful and didn’t seem to realize it, and she was sharp and challenging and soft and vulnerable. I wanted to know her, and I had to have her.
I needed to understand if Luke was going to be an issue, and then I would convince her she wanted me like I wanted her.
I’d had mixed signals from her so far. She’d kissed me back but then seemed unaffected in the post-kiss aftermath. She’d come to the gallery opening, but potentially brought her boyfriend. And now she was not so subtly asking about Millie. Next week we were in Paris, and if I couldn’t seduce a woman in Paris then I’d chop my dick off.
Sandy came running up to us as we arrived. Things hadn’t kicked off yet. The atmosphere on set was much more relaxed than last time.
“Harry, Harry, so sorry to have missed your exhibition. Dave said it was wonderful. You’re so talented!”
I caught Haven rolling her eyes and grinned at her. I didn’t know if it was Sandy or Sandy’s flirting she didn’t like.
“No worries. I’m sure you had better things to do.”
“You look beautiful, Sandy,” Haven said, using my words about her.
“Thanks. I like that we’re getting to know each other more and more. Can I introduce you to the director?”
“See what happens when you’re nice to people?” I whispered to her as Sandy led her off toward the throng of people.
I took out my camera and started taking shots of Sandy from across the stage. She seemed to be constantly on show, as if she was aware there were people watching her at all times. It must have been exhausting. I pulled out the zoom a little, so my shots included Haven. Her cheekbones sliced through the light. She was completely oblivious to the fact that anyone saw her.
She was clearly shy meeting the director, but Sandy did most of the talking for them. Eventually, the director stood up and Haven took her cue to come back to our seat. I continued to capture her as she came toward me.
“What are you doing?” she whispered. “You’re meant to be photographing Sandy, not me.”
“I’ve got plenty of her, don’t worry.” I grinned, and I could tell by the twitch at the corners of her lips that she was trying not to smile.
She fired up her laptop, as was her usual routine, and began tapping away.
“Have you got your angle now?”
“I’m not sure I need one. I’m just going to write what I see and not make a big deal of it. As Emily said, I’m not working for the—” she lifted her fingers in the air and made imaginary quotation marks “—New York fucking Times.”
“Well, she’s probably right, but come on, Paris might give you inspiration. Aren’t you looking forward to it?”
She half-nodded.
I was looking forward to Paris. It was a great city. All about sex and romance.
“What flight are you on?” I asked her.
“I’m going by train. I’m not crazy about flying.”
“I love flying. What are you scared of?”
“I’m always astounded when people ask me that. I don’t know . . . What could it possibly be? Perhaps the falling out of the sky and dying thing?”
I chuckled. “Fair enough. I’ll get the train with you. It’ll be easier with my equipment anyway.”
“You don’t have to travel with me.”
“I know.” I wanted to spend every minute I could with her.
“Hey, sleepyhead.” She had drifted off about twenty minutes ago, and her head had fallen on my shoulder as the train sped through the French countryside. The announcement that we were pulling into Gare du Nord had disturbed her. I’d managed to take a few shots of her sleeping, which I was sure she’d give me hell for. I couldn’t resist. She looked so peaceful, so beautiful.
“I wasn’t asleep. I was just resting my eyes.”
“You sound like my grandma,” I said.
“You’re full of compliments. Let a girl wake up before you overwhelm her with your charm.” Her voice was croaky, sexy.
“I thought you weren’t sleeping?”
That earned me the back of her hand in my stomach. “Careful, if you resort to physical violence I might have to kiss you again.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” she replied.
“Speak for yourself.” I grinned at her.
The redness in her cheeks widened my grin.
I grabbed her bag and headed to the door. We were staying at the W in Opéra, so not far from the station.
“I think we should get the Metro,” she said as I led her toward the taxi line. “We won’t be able to claim back cab fare.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got it covered.”
“Of course you do. Or should I say, thank you, Harry’s trust fund.”
“I can assure you that I don’t have a trust fund.” Jesus, I was trying to be nice. How could she turn me paying for a cab into something that undermined my entire character? “You have no idea, Haven, so zip it before I do more than kiss you.”
That shut her up, and we drove silently to the hotel.
Once we were checked in, we were shown up to our rooms by a porter. We were next door to each other, and I couldn’t help but grin at the coincidence. I liked the thought of her naked in the shower with just a wall between us.
“I thought Sandy would have arranged for you to have a room next to hers,” Haven said.
I glanced at her and shook my head. There was no point responding. She clearly hadn’t managed to sleep off her bad mood.
“They said they would start filming at ten this morning. Shall I see you in the lobby in ten minutes?” I asked.
“Sure, but I can probably hear the television through the wall, so no porn,” she said. She was definitely getting kissed for that. Later.
At the agreed time, I made my way to the lobby. Haven was waiting for me. Of course she was. Most of the filming in Paris was taking place outside. Although there were apparently a few scenes in cafes, that meant being in the cold for most of the day, and Haven was prepared to the point it was almost comical. She really didn’t seem to care that she looked a little insane.
“You look warm.” If I didn’t know her better, I’d say she was smuggling duvets under her coat, and she had at least two scarves on and a hat. She could barely move her arms.
“I’m a little too warm, actually. Let’s get outside.”
“You know this isn’t Antarctica, don’t you?”
“I’m not good in the cold. You’ll be laughing on the other side of your face when you’re frozen to the bone later on.”
I couldn’t not laugh at her. She made it too easy. “Come on.” I put my hand on her lower back and guided her out.
When we arrived at the set we found people running about in different directions, shouting and waving. It all seemed very chaotic. We were ushered to our preassigned chairs, which Haven struggled to get into because of all her extra layers. There was no sign of Sandy, Phil or the director. Haven would be pleased not to have missed anything.
The sun was out, and Haven stripped off her hat, taking with it her ever-present, neatly arranged bun. “Can you hold this for me?” she said, passing me her hat and pulling out the pins that held the last of her hair. As it all tumbled down, it winded me. I picked up my camera and began taking shots of her. At first, she was so focused on getting her hair under control that she didn’t notice me.
“What are you doing?” she said more softly than I expected when she eventually realized what I was up to.
; “Taking beautiful pictures.”
“Harry, no.”
I put my camera down. “Call me Jake.” The only people who called me Jake were my family and a few old buddies back in Chicago, but I wanted Haven to use my real name. My friends used my nickname, and I didn’t want to be a friend to her.
“What?”
“I don’t want to be Harry to you. Call me Jake.”
She watched me studiously, her mouth half open as if she was about to ask me a question. She didn’t, though, and her lips curled into a breathtaking smile.
“Okay, J—”
“He’s here!” Sandy’s voice cut across our connection and swiftly Haven finished securing her hair, took a seat and opened her laptop.
“Hey, Sandy.” I greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.
“Harry, we’re in Paris, so there’s going to be lots of French kissing. Get ready!” she said as Phil directed her toward the front of the crew.
“Holy hell,” I muttered to myself.
“Like I said, a sure thing,” Haven said. I didn’t reply. She surely couldn’t think I was interested, even if Sandy was a sure thing.
The scene they were shooting was an argument between Sandy and her male costar, Bobby. As usual, we couldn’t hear anything, so we sat watching, trying to seem interested.
We’d never gotten to see the script, so from time to time we guessed what was going on. Sandy was waving her hands in the air and Bobby seemed exasperated. “I think he left his pants on the bedroom floor,” I said.
“No, she’s really mad. I think he asked her to try anal.”
I spat out my coffee. “Jesus. You sound like you’re talking from experience.”
Haven laughed. “Yeah, I waved my arms about just like that.”
I joined in her laughter.
“I imagine your girlfriend, Millie, doesn’t take such offense,” she said.
Did I hear her right? “Wow. There are so many things wrong with that statement I don’t know where to go with it. The fact that you might have imagined Millie and me discussing anal sex is just plain disturbing, and then there’s you insinuating that’s what I’m into. I think that constitutes a record for you in terms of how many insults you can pack into a single statement. Anyone would think you’re asking to get kissed by me.”