by Louise Bay
My face started to heat as Jake’s presence in the room became bigger and bigger as I considered Paula’s suggestion. Did I want to hear what he was going to say about what he wanted in a woman? He was all I was aware of as I faced the prospect of giving this stranger lots of personal information about myself.
“I’m just here as the photographer,” Jake said.
“Have you already found love?” Paula asked.
He held up his left hand, showing her his ring finger. “I’m still single,” he replied, and smiled tightly. “I’m very busy at work. I’m establishing a new alternative energy company. I don’t have much time for dating.”
Paula looked at me, as if I could elaborate for him, and then focused back on Jake. My heartbeat was so loud I wondered if they could hear it. He hadn’t answered her question. Had he found love?
“So you’re not looking for love?” Paula asked.
“Harry,” I managed to say. “So we don’t take up any more of your valuable time than we need to, why don’t you take some shots of Paula and then we can let you go and Paula can take me through the interview process?” I stared at his oh-so-broad chest. I couldn’t bring myself to glance up to meet his eyes.
He nodded and stood. Paula didn’t push the point. I watched as he expertly moved around the room, directing Paula and taking shots with various backgrounds and in different poses. I buried myself in my notes, pretending to be doing anything but absorbing every detail of Jake’s movements.
Twenty minutes later Jake seemed to have what he needed.
“You were great, Paula, so natural. I think I have everything I need, so I’m going to head out,” Jake said.
“You can come back anytime. Let me give you a card.”
“Thanks,” he replied. “I don’t seem to get it right on my own; so you never know, I might give you a call.” My gut twisted. I’d thought about Jake with another Millie, but the thought of Jake finding love was a whole different ball game. It was as if I couldn’t think about that and breathe. Somehow the two things weren’t compatible. Thank goodness he had resisted Paula giving him the full interview. I didn’t think I could take much more of him being so close, let alone hear about his potential future without me.
“Well, I have a couple of beautiful and successful women who I would love you to spend some time with, so keep in touch.”
“Thank you.” Jake smiled. “I’ll let you get down to the real interview now.”
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Harry.”
“The pleasure was all mine,” he replied.
His smile receded when he turned to me. “Haven, I hope you find what you’re looking for,” he said, and then he was gone.
I watched as the door closed behind him. If I hadn’t been sitting down I would have fallen. I reached for my tea, trying to stop myself from rewinding and replaying the last words he had spoken. My hands shook as I brought the glass to my lips. What did he mean when he said that? Was he angry with me? Hurt?
“How long have you been single?” Paula asked, pulling me out of my head.
This was going to be a bit more difficult than I expected. I wasn’t great at opening up to strangers at the best of times. “A while.”
“Okay, so, talk to me about what you want when you’re dating,” Paula interrupted my thoughts of Jake.
“I’m not sure,” I replied. I wasn’t aware that I looked for anything in particular. The fact that they had asked me out seemed to be the common factor among the men I’d dated.
“We have to narrow down the pool. Let’s start physically. What are your turn-ons and turn-offs.”
“Well, obviously, if he looks like David Gandy, that would be a bonus.”
“Or Harry? He’s very handsome. Are you sure he’s single?”
“I don’t know. He always has women on the go,” I replied. I couldn’t imagine he would stay single for long.
“I’m sure he has plenty of options, but that doesn’t mean he’s making the right choices. Is he wealthy?”
I shrugged. I wanted to get off the subject. Why was she still talking about him?
“Sorry, so yes, David Gandy. You like them tall and dark.”
“I guess.” I shifted in my seat.
“And successful, obviously.”
I stared across the room at a painting, trying to think about whether a man’s wealth made a difference to me. Before Jake I would have said categorically that I preferred a man who wasn’t wealthy, but now . . .
“I’m not sure money and success matters so much to me. More that they love what they do. I don’t like men who are too . . . cocky? Not unless they’ve got something to back it up with. And that can’t be just wealth. There has to be more to them than that.”
“That’s interesting,” said Paula. “And what else? Describe what sort of person he is.”
I paused and then said, “Confident.” She nodded, encouraging me to continue. “Kind and funny. Strong and hardworking—and family should be important to him.”
“Anything else?” she asked.
“I like the idea of being better because of the man I’m with, you know?”
“Tell me,” Paula said.
“Someone who sees the best version of me and nurtures that part of me so that’s the side that grows.”
I took a deep breath and my mind wandered to the picture of me that Jake had sent along with the Sandy interviews. That was the woman I wanted to be.
I was describing Jake.
“And are you sure you haven’t found him?” Paula asked, pulling me from my thoughts.
I smiled and shook my head, though I wasn’t so sure.
“Okay. I have some ideas of who you might be a good fit with. I’ll need to make sure they’re fine with the article, though.”
“No identifying information will be put in the piece.”
Paula nodded. “That’s important and I’m trusting you. We guard our member’s anonymity as fiercely as they guard their wealth.”
“Of course. You don’t need to worry,” I said.
“So, I’ll arrange three dates for you. Can I make a personal suggestion?”
“Um . . . okay.” What was she going to say?
“You’re a gorgeous girl who’s not making the most of herself.”
My cheeks began to heat. I was used to Ash saying stuff like that to me, but I wasn’t prepared for the oh-so-charming Paula, a woman I had only met an hour ago, to say it.
“You need to loosen up a bit. The hair needs to be less . . . rigid. And perhaps show a little cleavage or leg, or both.”
“Um.” I tried to formulate a response that wasn’t defensive. “Should we be judging people on their looks?” I asked.
“I don’t work with ‘shoulds.’ All I know is that in reality, people will and do judge others on their appearance. And it’s such an easy win for you—you’re a beautiful girl.”
I raised my eyebrows at her. I didn’t know how to respond, I just felt awkward being assessed by a stranger. I had armor for a reason—I didn’t want people to have access to the fleshy truth of me.
“Don’t get me wrong, I advise strongly against having sex until couples properly know each other and have committed to an exclusive relationship. This isn’t about being slutty. Just, brighten things up a bit. Just be you, but the best version of yourself.”
She really sounded like Ash. It smarted, because I knew she was right, they both were. I was deliberately hiding and had been ever since I could remember. The clothes were a form of protection. If people didn’t see the real me, they couldn’t hate the real me, they couldn’t hurt the real me. I just didn’t know how to do anything else.
“You know that this is for a magazine article, though? I’m not actually searching for a boyfriend. And shouldn’t love be based on more than looks anyway?” I asked.
“Are you telling me that you don’t look at a cute guy over an ugly one? Looks are important but they’re only a part of the package. A beautiful diamond is always
a gem, but it doesn’t hurt to put it in a velvet box and tie a satin bow around it. You’re single. You never know, love might just find you. Be open.”
Fifteen
Jake
A few days later, I was due to meet Haven again. It was the first of her dates with the so-called eligible men from Glass Introductions. Jenny, of course, called me to make the arrangements.
“I’ll give you the details of the three dates, then the idea is that you’ll photograph Haven before she leaves, then do a couple of shots at the beginning of the evening. But you have to make sure you don’t include her date’s face. It’s all totally anonymous,” Jenny said, explaining the set up for the rest of this feature. “Haven will pick one who she’ll have an additional date with and you’ll do the same with that one.”
“And what’s this article about? How to land a rich man?”
Jenny laughed. “I suppose. I think it’s an insight into the lives of the wealthy, what the moneyed look for in a woman, that’s all. But she might meet her Prince Charming. You never know.”
It was part torture, part insanity, making me watch her date other men . . . even if it was for the magazine. The thought was bad enough, but actually having to witness it? It was as if the gods were laughing at me.
“So tonight I have to go to Haven’s apartment to shoot her pre-date prep before going with her to the Holly Club?”
“Yeah. We thought you could photograph her in a couple of different outfits. I’m going to come along as well to make sure she wears something appropriate.”
“Okay, I’ll see you later.” I zoned out. I was trying to think of something that would take the edge off what wasn’t going to be my favorite way to spend my Saturday night.
I cancelled the call and started scrolling through my contacts. I found a name and pressed the green button. “Hey, Nicola.” One of my exes, Nicola and I had dated for three months, and despite it not working out, we still went out for dinner every now and then.
“Long time, no speak, handsome. What have you been up to?” Nicola answered.
“Work. I’ve been in the US recently. What about you?” We both knew that was code for asking her whether or not she was dating.
“Same, I’ve just come back from Milan.” Her response told me she was single.
Nicola was a model and was abroad a lot. She was a cool, drama-free girl who cared less about where she was seen than Millie and wasn’t as selfish. I hoped seeing her would distract me from having to work with Haven.
“Are you exhausted or can I take you to dinner tonight?”
“I’m never too tired to spend an evening with you, Harry.”
“Sounds perfect. I’ll pick you up,” I said.
“Let me meet you there. Where did you have in mind?”
I hadn’t expected Nicola to be free so I’d not thought of where to go. “The Holly Club?” I suggested. I was a member and I was going to be there anyway, and it meant I could see how Haven got on with her date.
“Great. See you there at eight. Got to go, darling. Ciao.”
I slumped back in my chair. Nicola would be good. She was easy to be with and fun. She’d be the perfect antidote to Haven.
Later that evening, I pulled up outside the familiar railings in front of Haven’s apartment block. A rush of guilt passed through me as I looked up at the door to her building. I wondered what would have happened if I had set Robert straight that day and told him I thought he was crazy for thinking Haven wouldn’t outshine Sandy. Haven still may have run from me at some point—there was always that risk with her. She was naturally distrustful and didn’t open up easily, but if I’d had more time with her I could have at least shown her what she’d be missing.
It was pretty twisted—being at Haven’s to photograph her before she went on a date with someone else. The last time I was here, she wouldn’t let me in. As much as I’d accepted our situation, when I was forced to think about it, her decision frustrated the shit out of me. Being here, working with her, meant I could think of little else.
I pressed the intercom and was buzzed in without a greeting. When I arrived at her apartment, Jenny flung the door open.
“Who knew? Haven’s hot,” Jenny said excitedly, her eyes wide. “I’m styling her, it’s so much fun. She has color in her wardrobe, Harry! Colors that aren’t black and gray. Can you believe it?”
I forced a grin at her. I knew Haven well enough to guess that when she was with people she trusted, like Ash and Luke, she became more colorful in every way. I didn’t want Jenny to know that too—it made me just another work colleague.
“I’m going to get you to come and photograph her amongst a mountain of discarded clothing options. Sound good?”
“Sure,” I replied.
“You’re not very talkative. Are you okay?” she asked, leading me down a corridor.
“I’m fine. Just want to get this right. I didn’t bring any lighting or anything, so I’m not sure how it’s going to look.” We passed a huge mirror taking up most of one wall that had sticky notes and postcards plastered all over it. I wanted to stop to take it in, but Jenny was excited to get started and I was moved on quickly.
“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. We want them to look like they’ve just been snapped by a girlfriend.”
Haven had her back to us as we walked into the dimly lit room. “Can you zip me up, Jenny?” she asked as she squirmed, trying to fasten the back of the dress herself. The curve of her neck was revealed as she scooped her hair up, out of the way of the zipper. My blood started to heat. Memories of my lips pressed against that exposed flesh punctuated my breathing. I hovered in the doorway, not wanting to make things worse by being closer to her. It wasn’t meant to feel like this. I was supposed to be fine with her decision to end things. I was supposed to be over her.
Jenny hurried over and zipped up the back of the dress. I tried not to look at Haven, but it was impossible. She was beautiful. She always was, but it was the way she was so unaware of it—totally oblivious to the effect she had on me. I couldn’t stop trailing my glance up and down her body, taking her in as if she were still mine, pausing on the curve of her hip, then the roundness of her ass. I was pulled out of my thoughts by an awareness that she was wearing this dress for another man. On second thought, it seemed kinda short and very tight.
“Let’s get a look at you,” Jenny said.
Haven turned and something popped inside me. I had to dip my eyes from her. I couldn’t bear to see her excited about the evening. I scanned the rest of the room, looking anywhere but Haven. It was my first time in her bedroom. I hadn’t expected it to be under these circumstances. I’d wanted to be in here after Paris. I slid my eyes over the patterned bed quilt that was worn and homemade, and then to the metal-framed bed. We could have had some fun, tying Haven to that. Watching her come as if it were the first time her body had ever felt anything like it.
Jenny poked me in the ribs, pulling me out of my fantasy just before I lost myself in it. “See, what did I tell you? She’s hot. Give us the man’s perspective. What do you think?”
“You look beautiful, Haven,” I said, trying to sound as detached as possible, as I attempted to conceal that all I wanted to do was peel her out of that dress and tie her down. She was stunning. As I met her eyes, she seemed unsure. She was pulling on the inside of her cheek with her teeth. She had no reason to doubt herself. I smiled gently and she caught my eye, then looked away quickly as if she’d remembered herself.
“Do you think it’s right for a first date?” Jenny asked, turning her head toward me.
“I have no idea what your objective is, so I can’t comment,” I said. If she was going out with me, she could dress in a garbage bag for all I cared.
“We’re trying to find her a man, silly. She’s bound to impress in this.”
“I’m not wearing it. It’s too short. This guy could be a total pervert. And it’s too dressy for dinner,” Haven said.
“I’m not going to let you
wear black, just be warned, but okay, let’s photograph it and then we can put in the article why we didn’t choose it. I’m going to pick something else out.”
Haven stood awkwardly as I took out my camera. “Why don’t you go and stand by the mirror—you can pretend you’re trying to decide if it’s right.”
She nodded and moved across the room.
“What about this? Great color,” Jenny shouted from the closet, holding up the red dress Haven had worn in Paris.
I watched for Haven’s reaction and she flicked her eyes quickly to mine, and then back to Jenny. “Not that one.”
“But it’s awesome. It will go beautifully with your hair,” Jenny said.
“No, not that one. What about the electric-blue, one-shoulder number? It’s Ash’s. She makes me wear it sometimes.”
Jenny was easily dissuaded.
I took a dozen or so shots, not bothering too much with setting, or direction. I just wanted to get this over with.
“I’ll go and wait in the living room while you change,” I said.
“Okay,” Haven replied without meeting my eyes.
I wandered back down the hall. The sitting room was bright and warm. There was none of the order that I might have expected of Haven. On her sofa, there were a thousand mismatched throw pillows. On a dresser in the corner, there was a collection of frames. I drew closer and saw pictures of Ash, Haven and Luke through the years. At the very back was a picture of what looked like her mother and father on their wedding day. Then another of what I could only assume were her parents, her and Luke. What all the shots had in common was that they showed a carefree, happy Haven. The Haven that, for a brief moment, I’d known.