by Andi Osho
The next thing she remembered was coming to inside an ambulance.
‘Miles?’ she’d asked the paramedic, a short, round Asian woman.
‘About two miles. There was a bit of traffic because of that premiere,’ she said.
Jemima’s eyes darted around the ambulance.
‘No, I mean my boyfriend, Miles. Where is he?’
‘Oh he said he’d meet you at the hospital. Didn’t realise he was your fella,’ said the paramedic as she strapped a blood pressure band around Jemima’s arm.
Jemima’s eyes began to burn and before she could stop them, tears flowed. Lying on the thin ambulance mattress, her body was weak as though its vitality had leeched away. The love she’d had for Miles that held her up day to day was gone. And as the crack in her heart opened, she sobbed for all the time she’d given Miles, for the hope she’d had that he was, underneath it all, a decent guy. She sobbed for letting in someone so unworthy. She sobbed for the one who’d been too scared to love, who’d waited and waited, never opening up, who finally had, then made the choices that led her here, lying alone in an ambulance. She sobbed for the woman that had trusted Miles to love her. She sobbed because though whatever ailed her would heal, her shattered heart was something no surgeon could fix.
‘Jem?’ Miles said.
Jemima looked at her phone. She was back in her bedroom. ‘Hmmm?’
‘You were a million miles away. I said, what did Eve say about this filth draft?’
Jemima listened to the sound of her own breathing. She did feel alive but it was the alive you experienced standing on a dangerous precipice. Was Miles her certain death? Surely the constant threat of a fatal fall was no way to live? She deserved better but where was that better going to come from? Hopeless cynic Lance and his Christmas cracker jokes? Tim who probably thought she was a crackpot? Or Chance who was so, so far out of reach?
‘Jem-Jem. You okay? Tap once for yes, twice for no,’ Miles chuckled.
‘I’m fine. It’s fine. Eve appreciated the draft as a political manifesto so—’ said Jemima bringing herself back into the room again.
‘And then gave you a month to get her a proper draft or they’ll drop you,’ said Miles laughing.
Fucking Shaheena, Jemima seethed. She was unbelievable. What else had she told him?
Suddenly, Jemima’s face went cold. What if Shaheena had told him about using the girls’ stories? Jemima slapped her forehead as she recalled a recent conversation when, like an unadulterated imbecile, she told Shaheena how she’d finally managed to execute Eve’s notes.
‘What else did Shaheena tell you?’ Jemima asked.
‘Not much. Just that your deadline is a week away,’ said Miles.
Jemima sighed with relief. Perhaps, for once Shaheena had exhibited a modicum of discretion.
‘And that you nicked stories from Meagan and Simi’s lives.’ Jemina deflated like a three-day-old balloon. Great.
‘Fear not, Jem-Jem. Your secret’s safe with me and at least you found a solution. Ten out of ten for innovation.’
‘Yeah and it’ll only cost me two best friends,’ she said cradling her head in her hand.
‘They’ll get over it. The main thing is Eve is happy, yes?’
‘Almost. Now I’ve created this complicated past, she wants one final, dark secret to tie it together.’
‘No sweat. One of those girls is bound to have something depraved lurking in their pasts.’
Jemima grimaced at his judgement but then wavered as once again, Simi’s stalker story barged its way to the forefront of her mind. It was ideal and would give Eve exactly what she wanted. It was dark, had edge and motivated so much of Beverly’s new backstory but it was also a step too far.
‘That sounds fantastic!’ Miles whispered in awe before Jemima had even finished explaining.
She began to feel woozy. He was right. It was fantastic in an awful but perfect way. But if she went for it, she would be done. Yes, the book would be finished but so would her friendships.
‘They will hate me for this. Chance, a friend of mine, said it’s too harsh.’
‘Blimey, you showed an unfinished manuscript to someone? They must be special. What have you done with the real Jemima Abeson?’ snorted Miles. ‘My dear, if you’ve written Beverly as an interfering know-it-all or hopeless love puppy who dates duds and the girls recognise themselves in that, that’s a good thing. Sometimes honesty is necessary.’
Jemima repositioned herself on her bed, drinking in Miles’s words. That was what Chance had said but coming from Miles, the words felt less like sage advice and more like scheming justifications.
‘Even if that were true, who am I to put their past in print?’
‘Jem-Jem, what kind of friend would Simi be if she didn’t donate that story to you? Think about how you’ve supported her career over the years. The money, the time learning lines. For Christ’s sake, you’ve given her a place to live, rent-free… She owes you.’
Jemima rubbed her temples. Miles truly was a master of spin.
‘I’ve got to go,’ said Jemima, hanging up before Miles could respond.
She fired up her laptop and began typing, her breath heavy as words poured onto the page.
Chapter 33
Meagan
Meagan took a bracing gulp of her afternoon coffee and looked around her freshly painted but still unfurnished office. If it weren’t for the girls she wouldn’t have got this far and so for that, she was thankful. However, for the ongoing headache Simi was giving her, she was not. She checked her emails then texts. Not a dicky bird from Simi since her Cake audition that morning. That’s gratitude for you, Meagan sighed. She perched herself on the filing cabinet she’d borrowed from the PR company up the hall, her coffee mug precariously balanced on a pile of actors’ headshots. Every week forty more arrived in the post from thespian hopefuls. They weren’t to know Meagan already had her dream team, twenty-three comics – and one actress, their headshots mounted on her new headshot wall. Her eyes drifted to Simi’s photo, a black-and-white portrait that was damn near faultless, even if Meagan did say so herself. She’d directed the photo shoot and yes, her first impulse had been to do what she does with her comedians and have Simi mug for the camera in a charming, post-watershed, yet approachable way. However, in the end, Simi had educated her on what was actually required of an actor’s headshot and the end results were stunning. They captured Simi’s kindness and vulnerability but also her underlying tenacity. Meagan studied the photo as a realisation dawned. If Simi hadn’t intervened, this image of her would never have existed. Casting directors would never have seen her true essence and that would have been because of Meagan. She suddenly felt a heaviness. Did she really know what she was doing when it came to managing Simi? Acting was a whole new ball game and one she was in danger of messing up with all her interfering. She paused mid-sip of her coffee as a sobering thought coalesced. Was the reason she didn’t need to intervene with her comedians because they were doing well or were they doing well because she wasn’t interfering? The very notion made her nauseous.
Meagan studied Simi’s photo. The girl looking back at her rarely stood her ground but the Simi from the other day had. All at once, Meagan could see what a fighter Simi truly was – the epitome of the old saying, fall down seven times, get up eight. Meagan blew a kiss at the photo imagining Simi pretending to clutch it to her heart as she always did. But if Simi was so strong, why did Meagan interfere? Rather than helping her friend’s career take off, she was keeping her grounded. And by default, weren’t Simi’s career failings stopping Meagan’s own life moving on? Her plan criteria had always been clear, all her clients needed to be working before she could move onto the next stage, a relationship. As Meagan rubbed her sweating palms together, she couldn’t help wonder, were Simi’s apparent failings getting in the way of her plan or was she using her plan to get in the way of Simi? Her mind swirled at the very thought. Now that the next phase of her plan was possible, in fact,
according to her schedule, imminent, Meagan realised – she was terrified. The elevator at the end of the corridor shushed open, yanking Meagan from her ruminations. She shook the thoughts away and went back to clearing floor space for her new furniture.
‘Knock, knock,’ said a voice.
Meagan almost choked at the sight of Todd standing in her doorway.
‘Todd? What. The. Actual. Fuck?’ she growled.
‘Slow your roll. I’ve got you a surprise,’ said Todd, holding up his hands in placating defence.
‘And I’ve got a surprise for you,’ Meagan murmured as her hand balled into a fist.
‘Just hear me out,’ he said as he took a silver envelope from inside his suit jacket.
Meagan’s eyes narrowed, ‘And that is?’
‘Glad you asked,’ said Todd, a smile breaking. ‘So I thought, you’ve been working hard. How’s about a spa day at the Worthington followed by a gourmet dinner aaaaand a night in one of their luxury suites…’
Trying to ignore his newly grown-out hair which made him even more handsome, Meagan looked at him in utter bewilderment. Despite sending him a photo of her on a date then ignoring his calls, here he was. This had to stop.
‘Take a seat, Todd,’ she snarled.
He looked around the empty room before sitting on the corner of the filing cabinet.
‘You look nice. Have you changed your hair?’ he asked.
Meagan kissed her teeth. ‘We need to talk.’
‘You’ve put some tracks in or added some highlights?’
‘Todd!’ she barked.
‘Okay, alright. I just wanted to surprise you. I thought go big or go home but it backfired royally…’ Todd said as he ventured towards Meagan.
She held up a hand stopping him.
‘Yes, mate. Royally. If you had a kingdom it would be called Fuck-up-shire.’
Todd laughed.
‘It’s not funny.’
‘Sorry,’ he said, trying not to grin, edging towards her. ‘Look, someone put a stupid idea in my head and it tanked. Point is, we’ve been at this for four years but we’re still in the same place.’
Meagan lodged her hands on her hips. ‘Did I say we were going anywhere though?’
‘No, but you didn’t say we weren’t,’ said Todd taking Meagan’s hand in his.
Her temples began to throb. Why didn’t he understand, regardless of how phase three of her plan was looming, he wasn’t going to muscle his way in with his soft hands and gorgeous face. Todd lightly pulled Meagan towards him, his eyes locked onto hers.
Meagan pulsated, as she peered back at him, the fight in her faltering. She loved looking up at tall men, craning to kiss them, leaning on them – but now was not the time for craning, leaning or kissing. She tried to pull away. He needed a nice girl to settle down with. Someone like Simi. Perhaps Meagan would re-gift him, solving all their problems. Granted he was a bit too young for Simi and she was a bit too actory for him but other than that they were a great fit. Why hadn’t she thought of it before?
‘Meag, I know you think it’s just physical…’ said Todd sliding his other hand around her waist.
As Meagan leaned back into his grasp she felt her lust shift up a gear. With her free hand she hitched up her mini skirt and entwined a leg around his calf.
‘No, Meag,’ he said easing her leg back down. ‘I want more than just that.’
Meagan stared at him, stupefied. This was the longest they’d talked without winding up in bed, on a sofa, her desk, his desk or his kitchen worktop and this is what he had to say?
‘You think sex with me is a just?’ she said pulling away. ‘Fam, you’re getting the best of me.’
‘Why don’t we find out? It’s your birthday next week. I’m going to take you on a date. Something simple like bowling?’
Meagan threw her head back with a sour laugh. ‘Bowling? Birthdays, dates. My friend, if you reeeaally knew me, you’d know Meagan don’t do birthdays – and bowling?’
‘Whatever, Meag. Let’s just see. If you hate it, if we both hate it, I’ll walk away. End of. I’m serious. Don’t throw out something you know we both want.’
Meagan stepped back. She looked into his brown eyes, noticing laughter lines she’d never seen before, a small spot of vitiligo under his chin and an old scar on his neck that told its own story. She sighed, gently kissing him on the cheek.
Meagan pulled the duvet up to her waist as the warm wave of her third orgasm washed over her. She had learned early on how to wring the maximum gratification from her sexual encounters. And while Jemima loved watching old French cinema and Simi loved to cook, Meagan’s hobby was teaching lovers to bring her pleasure. Training session over, she relaxed into the soft pillows and smiled to herself, the hint of that delicious cologne brushing past her nose. This was the perfect full stop to her exchange with Todd that afternoon, she concluded as a hairless arm flopped onto her hips. She looked down at it, momentarily surprised by its unfamiliarity.
‘Hmmf,’ sniffed Bruno. ‘I didn’t expect to hear from you, naughty Meagan but I’m glad I did.’
Meagan tensed at the sound of Bruno’s snort. Now that Todd was officially catching feelings with his talk of birthday dates and bowling, it was time to get herself a new trainee lover. For a first attempt, Bruno had done well though Meagan had been taken aback by how, at the point of orgasm he’d strained, ‘Thank youuuu.’ Also, if she were honest, Bruno wasn’t as gentle as Todd who was much more patient. Her pleasure was his pleasure – a rarity, Meagan had to concede, and one she would miss. She also wasn’t a fan of Bruno nodding off immediately after thanking her. Oh well, he would learn eventually she reassured herself. And at least she wouldn’t have to listen to him wittering on like Todd always did, asking her a million questions about herself.
Bruno stirred, flopping his head towards Meagan.
‘So, listen, sweet lady,’ he said, eyes still closed. ‘I must put you out. I have a 5.30 a.m. flight.’
Meagan’s eyes widened. Put me out? Put me out..? she gawped. Like a cat…? Like Dino at the end of The Flintstones? No one had ever ‘put Meagan out’ in her life. If anything, she was the one who did the putting out. Was something being lost in translation? she fumed, glaring at his dozing face. Well, maybe, I’ll put you out, make you orgasm so hard your eyes will be on stalks. Sniff that, blondie. She began massaging his smooth chest. Where was all this man’s hair? she puzzled as her hand banked southwards. He stopped her, gently but firmly putting her hand back on her own tummy.
‘Hmmf. I only cum one time each night. I’m conserving my chi, you know,’ he said as he set the alarm on his phone.
Meagan watched, baffled and infuriated. She threw back the duvet and paced the room gathering up her clothes, almost stumbling as she slipped on her skirt. This was not okay, she seethed hopping towards the door trying to slide on her stiletto at the same time.
‘Right. Well, bye,’ she said lingering.
‘Sure, Hmmf. The white button in the hall – this is the door release,’ said Bruno as he turned out his bedside lamp. ‘Call me, sweet Meagan. We do this again.’
Meagan stood in the dark, stunned. Finally, she turned to leave, thumping into the bedroom door.
‘Fuuuuuck,’ she hissed.
In the corridor, she drilled at the elevator button as it made its laborious ascent to the penthouse. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. TAP, TAP, TAP, TAP!
Eventually the doors opened and she stepped inside. Only once out in the street did she exhale, letting out a bitter laugh. Tears welled as she bent double trying to catch her breath. Between the laughter, the anger and the crying, she wanted to scream in Bruno’s face, how dare you? Do you know how much other men want this? Do you know how much Todd wants this? But she couldn’t say any of that because he had put her out – like the bins. She wiped her eyes with the cuff of her coat. It was his loss and tomorrow on his 5.30 flight to Düsseldorf, he would realise that.
Meagan exhaled again, her br
eath a white column against the black sky.
‘FUCKING MEN!’ she screeched before pounding off down the street.
Chapter 34
Simi
‘This is nice,’ said Simi blowing her freshly painted nails. ‘Been ages since we’ve chilled.’
‘Hmm, mmm.’ Jemima nodded as she tapped out a text message trying not to smudge her manicure.
‘And what with my audition this week and you with the book, the dating game… and all your phone calls, it’ll be great to let our hair down at the Hudson Hicks party tomorrow,’ Simi continued as Jemima chuckled at an incoming message.
‘Totally,’ said Jemima, finally turning her attention to Simi. ‘I know I haven’t been around much.’
‘That’s okay. You’re busy. It’s just lovely to have my advice guru back coz I need to talk to you about something,’ said Simi cautiously.
‘Funny. There’s something I need to ask you too,’ said Jemima but before she could say more her vibrating phone cut into the moment like a hot knife through butter.
‘Sorry, Sim, I’ve gotta take this,’ Jemima said, scooping up her phone and padding through to her bedroom, laughing with whoever was on the other end.
Simi strained to listen. If she didn’t know better, she would swear Jemima was flirting. But with who? Simi blew on her nails again. Jemima wasn’t the devious type but things were definitely different of late. Maybe it was just the book though that didn’t explain the mysterious phone calls. Twice, Jemima had seen her phone ring and closed her bedroom door to take the call. Was Jemima dating one of the men from the game? Simi glared at her closed bedroom door just as Jemima traipsed back into the living room, plopping herself onto the sofa.
‘Fancy a movie?’ Jemima said clicking on the TV.