by Andi Osho
‘Mmm,’ said Simi, noticing a tiny smile on Jemima’s face. ‘Who was that?’
‘Publicist. Boring strategy stuff for the book launch,’ said Jemima, scrolling through her Webflix account.
‘Working on a Saturday – dedicated,’ Simi probed.
‘Well, you know – Ooooh, Fatal Attraction. I haven’t seen that in ages.’
Simi looked at Jemima who was giving nothing away. Perhaps that was because there was nothing to give away. Maybe Jemima had just spoken with her publicist and, knowing how boring Simi found all that stuff, was simply sparing her the dull details.
‘Obsession is so interesting, don’t you think?’ said Jemima, eyes still on the screen. ‘I mean… Meagan told me about Terry, at college…’
For the first time since she’d sat back down, Jemima looked at Simi. ‘Did you know that what you were doing was…’
Simi watched Jemima hesitate, searching for the least hurtful word.
‘Weird?’ offered Simi.
‘That’s not what I meant.’
Simi sighed. Her pursuit of Terry had been a low point and, with the benefit of nearly two decades of hindsight, pretty bloody humiliating.
‘I wasn’t weird. I was desperate. Jem, I know this dating thing just looks like fun but in these few weeks I’ve discovered a lot – deep things, like stuff about my dad. When he left, it triggered something. I’ve spent my whole life searching for his love. Thing is, I’ve been looking in completely the wrong places, ready to fall at any opportunity. That’s desperation.’
Simi was almost giddy from saying what she’d felt so deeply but had never before articulated.
‘After I slept with Mo, I finally got what Meagan has been talking about – the boundaries, how people treat you, men, the hunt – all of it,’ Simi said.
‘Did Mo say something?’
‘Kind of. Early on, he said he loved dating and it’s only just clicked. I thought that meant he would love to date me, so I slept with him but he literally meant he loves going on dates – with different people.’
‘Then he’s a scallywag, Sim. That’s not your fault,’ interjected Jemima.
‘Yes, it is. He told the truth it’s just I wanted him to want me so badly, I didn’t listen, not properly. Just like with Terry and then Oscar, I heard and saw what I wanted. You see, desperate,’ said Simi.
The women looked at each other. This was huge for Simi.
‘Jem,’ she said at last.
‘Yeah,’ said Jemima, leaning forward, concerned.
‘I think we need to open this now.’
Simi grabbed an unopened bottle of red from the coffee table.
Jemima laughed, holding up two empty glasses. ‘You read my mind.’
Simi popped the cork and poured the wine while Jemima shook popcorn into a bowl.
‘My dad left when I was 7. I’m 35. So, when you ask, did I know if my behaviour with Terry was strange, no, I didn’t. I was just looking in the wrong place for what I’d lost a long time ago,’ said Simi taking a big sip of wine.
Finally, she could see that her entire relationship profile, her outlook on love, her longing for a man had all been shaped by the absence of just one.
‘Babe,’ said Jemima kissing Simi on the cheek, ‘you’re amazing and I bet you’ll find someone great who deserves you.’
‘I wish for it every day,’ said Simi.
‘Then it will happen,’ said Jemima offering up her glass. ‘And it’ll happen because you’re ready – not because you think you need it.’
‘Cheers,’ said Simi tapping her glass against Jemima’s, ‘but maybe I should have a time-out from boys? Remember what came up when we read each other’s auras. You said it yourself – a break.’
‘I suppose,’ said Jemima. ‘Look, darling, whatever you need, I’m on board.’
‘Thanks, lovely,’ Simi said, resting her head on Jemima’s shoulder. ‘What’s your wish?’
Right away, Simi could feel Jemima squirm.
‘I…’
‘You know I mean about love, right?’ said Simi, playful but firm.
She wasn’t going to allow Jemima to side-step the question as she normally did.
‘I know.’ Jemima nodded.
Simi searched her face for a clue. Clearly she was wrestling with something. ‘Just say it. I promise, I won’t tell.’
Jemima caught Simi’s gaze and straight away, Simi felt the weight of Jemima’s sadness.
‘I want someone who makes me want to keep my feet on the ground,’ Jemima said.
‘I knew it!’ Simi whispered. ‘You will meet that person. I promise you.’
The girls hugged, Simi aware of just how tightly Jemima was holding her. She kissed her forehead, willing that special someone to find Jemima and bring her back down to earth.
‘You’re an amazing friend, Simi,’ said Jemima, ‘and you’re an amazing person.’
‘Oh, Jem, you are too.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ murmured Jemima loosening her hold.
‘Are you mad? There is literally not a bad bone in your body. I can’t even imagine you doing something horrid and even if you did, I’d forgive you for anything.’ Simi beamed.
Jemima nibbled on a piece of popcorn. ‘Bless you.’
‘So, while we’re having a Saturday confessional, what did you need to ask me?’ said Simi.
‘It was nothing,’ Jemima said shaking popcorn crumbs from her lap. ‘But what can I do for you, Ms Oladipo?’
Simi’s smile waned as she searched for where to begin.
‘Okay, here’s the thing… I’m thinking of getting a new agent,’ she blurted as though a hasty delivery would deaden the impact.
‘What?’ exclaimed Jemima.
‘Shhhhh. I’m just thinking about it. I haven’t done anything.’
But Simi knew that wasn’t true. Just that morning, with the trepidation of a teenager looking for porn on their parent’s computer, Simi had googled, London acting agents. She needed someone who was used to the plodding and rather traditional reality of managing actors. Meagan was all about the fast-moving world of comedy and it just wasn’t working. This temporary favour was becoming a long-term headache for both of them.
‘What do you think?’ Simi asked, desperate as always for higher wisdom.
Jemima blew out her cheeks. ‘Sim, this is a big deal. Can you talk to her?’
‘Hello? Did you see what happened at her painting party?’ Simi replied spreading her hands in frustration.
‘Fair play.’
‘I drafted an introduction letter. Would you take a look?’ Simi said handing her hefty old laptop to Jemima.
‘You said you hadn’t done anything!’
‘It’s just a letter,’ said Simi, avoiding Jemima’s gaze.
She reached for a notepad, poised to jot down any and all pearls of wisdom imparted.
‘I didn’t know whether to make it corporate and serious, you know, talk about growth quarter on quarter? Or funny. I was going to put confetti in the envelope so that when they opened it—’ said Simi.
‘Picture Meagan getting an introduction letter with confetti inside.’
Simi nodded, crossing confetti off her shopping list as the reality of what she was doing struck her. How would she explain to Meagan she no longer wanted to be her client? And what would happen to their friendship? Would they even have one after that bombshell?
‘The letter’s fine but the real question is, are you ready for what may come if you send it out. Agents talk and Meagan may find out before you’re ready to tell her.’
Simi stared at her letter.
‘You never know, she might be happy about it,’ Simi said, reaching. ‘We’ve talked about keeping work and friendship separate for ages so in a way I’m helping. Plus, it would mean she could move on with her life plan.’
‘If that’s what she really wants.’ Jemima tutted, tapping at the TV remote.
‘How do you mean?’
‘It
just seems an unfair pressure on you that you have to be working before she can move on. She made up the rules for this plan. She could break them,’ said Jemima as she scrolled through the TV menu.
‘But, Jem, if you keep changing the rules that’s not a plan. That’s just – life!’
‘Well, life always gives helpful nudges. Maybe you should move on so there’s nothing standing in the way for either of you,’ said Jemima at last selecting Scandal on the Webflix menu.
‘I suppose…’ said Simi, clouded in even more uncertainty.
Was it possible Meagan was using Simi to scupper her own life plans or was it the other way around? Out of her own deep insecurities, was Simi sticking with Meagan to hold herself back? Was Meagan her crutch?
Chapter 35
Jemima
All day, Jemima had had a growing sense of doom. That afternoon, with one click, she’d sent the finished draft of Beverly Blake Discoveries to Eve. Yes, she’d put an end to the saga she’d been living in for months but in doing so, had put something much bigger in motion. In the end, she’d used more stories than she had intended. By including the stalking details, she’d needed to balance things out so had borrowed even more from Meagan. In the days before sending the draft, she’d felt like she was going crazy. One minute she’d be certain her actions were terminal and only fixable with a one way ticket to LA. The next, she’d laugh at the fuss she was making, reassuring herself the girls would be fine. But whatever the outcome, one thing was true. The deed was done and Jemima felt no jubilation – just dread.
Right now, copy-editors were notating, marketing people were brainstorming cover designs and Jemima was sitting on a ticking timebomb she had failed to stop countless times. Now she had no choice. She had to tell the girls. Obviously not tonight though as they were heading to the Hudson Hicks party. Somehow, Jemima had to slap a smile on and get through it. She exhaled wishing she could uninvite Simi and Meagan – just this once. But that wasn’t possible. They’d been her guests every year since she’d signed with Hudson Hicks. It wasn’t just a highlight in her calendar anymore. Simi picked her outfit three months in advance.
Jemima eyed herself in the mirror as she slipped on her cream blazer. From the living room she could hear Simi getting ready. She popped in an earring. Tonight was the first time Simi and Meagan had seen each other since their fallout and that was another reason why it was not the night to drop more manure over everything. After the painting party, Meagan had disappeared into a spiral of work, the game had fallen away into the background and it felt like their lives were moving onto diverging paths. Jemima hoped Simi and Meagan would put their issues behind them but with Simi now seeking a new agent, how long would that last even if they did?
Jemima put in her other earring and as she looked at her reflection, she became aware of how tense her body was. Her shoulders were rigid and her jaw tight. She shook a little, trying to loosen up but an unease remained in her stomach. That afternoon, she’d frantically briefed Shaheena to keep quiet about the book or better yet, avoid the girls altogether at the party, but a free bar and loose lips were a terrible combination. There was nothing Jemima could do but hope. She stared at her closed door realising she was stalling. In here she was safe but out there was her proverbial dead body by the fire escape – there was Simi and Meagan, Miles, the dating game, Hudson Hicks, her book, everything. She sighed gloomily knowing that, with one email to Rebecca saying ‘yes’ it could all go away and yet she still hadn’t been able to do it and there were only two reasons why – Simi and Meagan. Life without them didn’t feel like any kind of life at all. Jemima took a moment then finally went through to the lounge. There, Simi was made-up, dressed-up and ready to go. She looked stunning, regal almost.
‘Ready?’ Simi beamed.
‘Ready.’ Jemima nodded taking another breath to still the turmoil within.
Jemima walked down the long, pink, corrugated tunnel into the venue, eyeing her surroundings.
‘The decor is always so brilliant,’ yelped Simi as they followed the other guests inside.
‘Drink, madam?’ said a waiter, thrusting Bloody Marys in their hands and ushering them towards the main room.
Simi gawped at the elaborate design. ‘This must have cost a fortune!’
Jemima nodded as she peered around her. She’d been to this venue before, a Grade II listed music hall. But tonight, its shabby Aldgate chic and peeling walls were hidden behind sheer pink drapes in all directions. Jemima noted the elongated cerise and red lilies between each drape and the tiny cherubs peeping through. Every year, the party was themed as a cryptic homage to one of their authors but Jemima was at a loss as to who this one could be.
‘Please tell me you’re this year’s author?’ Simi asked, taking another drink from a passing tray.
‘It’s definitely not me,’ Jemima scoffed, doubting she’d ever be that in favour with Hudson Hicks.
‘Next year, one hundred per cent,’ said Simi inspecting a tray of canapes. ‘Yikes. Mini fish and chips!’
Jemima studied the drapes and flowers again. Now she was curious. What was the theme? After a moment, she scanned the room. Meagan had said she was coming straight from work but Jemima still hadn’t spotted her.
‘Have you spoken to Meagan?’ she asked Simi.
Simi shook her head, her mood clouding.
‘Are you going to?’
Simi shrugged.
‘Simi? She’ll be here any minute and I have to go and press the flesh,’ Jemima said.
‘Fine. I’ll speak to her – for you,’ conceded Simi.
‘No, Simi. Speak to her for you. Look, Meagan elbows, knees and barges her way in to every situation regardless of whether she’s needed or not but she’s not doing it to hurt anyone. It’s how she shows her love.’
‘But it’s ruining my life!’ wailed Simi.
‘Says the woman who’s about to fire her.’
‘Oh, yeah.’
‘If you want that to go well, make nice now. Find her. Say sorry,’ said Jemima shoving Simi off. ‘I have to mingle.’
Simi plonked her glass down.
‘Fine – Oh mini pizzas. Cute!’ she said as she moved off into the crowd.
Jemima watched her leave. Simi and Meagan had fallen out before but always made it back. She just hoped Meagan could make room for this new Simi who spoke up for herself. While Simi circled with her olive branch, Jemima steeled herself for the task ahead. She hated the grubby business of networking but Shaheena had insisted. She swiped a glass of prosecco from a drinks waiter and began her tour of duty.
An hour later and Jemima was networked-out having spoken with everyone Shaheena had instructed her to. However, now that business was over, she wanted to find Simi and Meagan who had hopefully buried the hatchet. And more importantly, she wanted to spend time together as a trio. They hadn’t done that in over a week. She wanted to enjoy this time, a time when they didn’t know about the book, where it was just them being mates, how things used to be.
‘Watch out, hot coffee,’ said a voice behind her.
Jemima froze. She knew it was Chance.
‘Hey!’ He beamed giving her a hug.
Tensing, she hugged him back.
‘What are you doing here?’ she said, anxiety radiating from her like solar flares.
This was more worlds colliding than she could handle.
‘I’m with Pete,’ said Chance. ‘Wait, are Hudson Hicks your publishers?’
Jemima gave serious thought to lying.
‘Yes.’ She confessed.
‘Wow. How come you never said?’
‘Well, you know, Pete’s all the way over there in autobiographies and I’m here in female-led insurance-based thrillers for the 25 to 45-year-old demographic – different worlds,’ Jemima gabbled with a nervous chuckle.
Chance grinned.
‘You’re hilarious. Wait ’til I tell Pete. He’ll be stoked,’ he said pointing over to a pink Black Jack table in the corner.
>
Jemima spotted Lula first, then Pete’s walking stick, and then Pete. Even from across the room she could see the family resemblance. Though Pete was stockier than Chance, he had the same Mediterranean complexion and of course that same killer smile. Just then Pete threw his arms up in celebration, folding them around Lula. He’d clearly won at the table and even though they were only playing for tokens, from his smile you would have thought he’d won the lottery. Even unadulterated delight ran in their family.
Chance turned back to Jemima.
So, listen I feel like I’m always apologising but I am genuinely sorry about the other night. I spoke out of turn,’ he said.
‘It’s fine. Really.’
‘It’s not. Who am I to tell you about your friends or your book? Am I forgiven?’ Chance said placing his hand on his heart with a boyish grin.
Jemima leaned in. ‘It’s finished.’
An enormous smile spread across his face. Jemima thought she’d seen it at full beam before, but this was dazzling.
‘That’s fantastic!’ he said taking her by her shoulders.
He kissed her on the cheek and she blushed.
‘Anyway,’ she flustered, ‘I’m sure I’ll get a tonne of notes.’
‘But you’ve done what ninety-nine point nine nine per cent of people can’t. You finished.’
Jemima felt herself blush again. It was true. Finishing the book had taken its toll but the one thing she could say for sure was that it existed. She’d done it. She placed her hand on his arm. As they talked, she let it slip down until eventually she could feel the warmth of his hand near hers. Their eyes met and Jemima became breathless. How was it that just the gentlest of touches, the briefest of looks could make her feel like this? Pleasure and pain once again. Did Chance feel the same, weak yet strong, excited and scared? But then she remembered the red-haired woman. The flushed feeling subsided and she put her hand back by her side.
‘Jemima? You okay?’ said Chance.
‘No – no, no, no, no,’ she hissed as she glared over his shoulder to an ice sculpture luge at the back of the hall. There, a reunited Simi and Meagan were slamming vodka shots – with Shaheena.