by Andi Osho
‘What book?’ said Meagan dabbing the last of her tears as the curtain swooshed open again.
‘Hiya. I’m Camilla. Going to pop this bandage on,’ she chimed.
‘Whatever,’ Meagan said turning back to Todd. ‘What book?’
Todd shifted in his chair as Camilla pottered, neatly laying out her bandage and Tubigrip.
‘I was going to talk to you about it at the Hudson Hicks do but I thought I’d be the last person you’d want to see…’
‘Todd, seriously. What the fuck are you talking about?’ said Meagan wanting to shake the information out of him.
‘Look, I know how you girls sometimes overshare after a couple of glasses of wine. I get it.’
If Todd didn’t get to the point soon, he was going to get something, Meagan quietly growled.
‘Okay, so, crime fiction isn’t my area but I was curious. I knew Jemima was your buddy and I heard about her run-in with Eve so I thought I’d read it,’ Todd said.
Meagan gestured for him to continue.
‘Anyway, as I was reading I spotted this… phrase you used to use to describe my…’ He looked at Camilla whose entire focus was on securing Meagan’s bandage.
‘Your what?’ said Meagan.
‘You know,’ said Todd glancing at his groin.
Camilla’s eyes crept over and then back to her bandaging.
‘Cams. Give us a minute,’ said Meagan as politely as she could, given she might kill someone.
Camilla went to speak but then received a full wattage Meagan glare and left, swishing the curtain behind her.
‘Can you explain, using the smallest words you know, what the hell you are talking about?’ said Meagan in a menacing whisper.
‘“Package like a clenched fist… like going ten rounds with Anthony Joshua…”’ he said shifting in his seat. ‘There were some other things – about you that sounded familiar too but, like I said, I don’t mind. It’s not every day your old fella gets immortalised in print.’
Meagan threw her legs off the bed and pushed herself into a sitting position.
‘What are you doing? You need your anti-inflammatories.’ Todd panicked.
Meagan leaned forward and grabbed Todd by his jumper.
‘Fuck anti-inflammatories. Get me a copy of that book… NOW.’
Chapter 40
Simi
Simi revelled in her deep, deep attraction to Chance. She gazed across the kitchen counter at him wondering what she might say were he to propose there and then. Yes, it was only their second date but the signs were so good. He’d already shown how in tune they were with his choice of date – a Mexican cooking class. Clearly, he’d intuited her love of world food. It was sweet too that he’d wanted to make up for his faux pas with the London Eye. Despite taking twenty minutes to recover after, Simi was pleased that had happened. It had brought them closer and scored her a second date – which was shaping up very nicely. The only thing she was slightly nervous about was the tequila tasting later. She just hoped, as with wine tasting, you got to spit it out – but by the way everyone was going on about it, she suspected not.
‘Okay, guys, after you’ve put your filling on the tortilla, roll it up like a big J. You know?’ their cooking teacher, Carmen, chuckled as she paced between the counters.
The class laughed along as she mimed smoking a joint, giving one woman a playful nudge.
‘I mean it’s not my thing but el campo fértil no descansado, tórnase estéril.’ She winked at Simi with a playful flourish.
‘Right. Cinco!’ Simi beamed before turning to Chance, nonplussed, ‘What did she say?’
‘Basically, All work and no play,’ Chance whispered.
‘Ohhh!’ Simi whispered back, ‘And what did I say?’
‘Five,’ Chance said.
‘Right.’ Simi grimaced, focusing on her tortilla as her cheeks burned with embarrassment.
‘Muy bien. Now put your lovely enchiladas in the pan! This is fantastic munchies food,’ said Carmen, with a clap of her hands.
As Simi positioned their rolled-up tortillas, she glimpsed at Chance imagining what her married name signature would look like – amazing, obviously – just like their wedding, their kids and their chocolate Labs. Everything with Chance would be amazing.
‘So, how did you and Jemima meet?’ Chance asked as he poured sauce into their pan.
Jemima – again, Simi frowned. This was the third time she’d come up in conversation and they hadn’t even got their food in the oven. They were supposed to be falling in love not picking over the potted history of Simi and Jemima’s frazzled friendship. Simi decided to smile through it. She’d answer his question then steer them back to more important matters such as how many children they were going to have.
‘Stand-up comedy class. She’s not really a performer though, obviously,’ said Simi, her tummy knotting at her meanness.
‘Maybe, but she is funny,’ said Chance.
‘You got that from seeing her for two minutes the other night?’ Simi asked.
‘No, we’ve met before.’
Simi’s expression fell.
‘I mean, I’ve seen her around. We go to the same coffee shop and, well, she seemed… funny.’
‘Yes, she’s funny,’ Simi replied.
If he was starstruck, she wished he’d just ask her to get Jemima’s autograph so they could get on with setting each other’s worlds on fire.
‘We don’t need to talk about her,’ said Chance whisking their pan into the oven.
‘No,’ said Simi as he returned to their counter.
However, Jemima was now in the conversation and Simi couldn’t help recall what she’d said about Chance at the party.
‘She did say something interesting though,’ Simi said.
Chance’s smile flickered.
‘She mentioned a woman with red hair…’
‘How did she know about…? Ah, the coffee shop we go to, I mean, our Nostromo. What I’m saying is… the woman’s name is Joy,’ he blustered.
Simi slapped on an amiable smile. It was as though Chance and Jemima had this whole history she knew nothing about. He knew how funny she was and where she bought her coffee. Jemima knew about this red-headed woman and maybe more. Simi indicated for him to continue in the vain hope he’d tell her, Don’t worry about Joy. She can be a flower girl at our wedding but his expression seemed to indicate otherwise. Simi tensed, mad at Jemima who, even in her absence, was ruining this evening.
‘So, who is Joy?’ she finally asked.
Chance tensed. ‘She’s my brother Pete’s ex. When they broke up and he went to Mexico she latched onto me. When her visa ran out I thought she’d go back to Oz but well, now she thinks we’re an item,’ Chance said, embarrassed.
‘Are you?’ Simi asked, baffled by his explanation.
‘No but it’s weird. I was in Oz when her and Pete broke up. I comforted her while I was there. Seemed the right thing to do. Anyway, I head home to London and next thing I know, she’s flying out to the UK too. Like I say, it’s weird,’ he said shaking his head. ‘She’s got boundary issues. She gets attached to someone without knowing how they feel. That’s why Pete broke up with her. It’s like, she just decides, it’s you and that’s it. You don’t get a say.’
Simi felt herself buckle, mystified. Carmen tapped a spatula, quietening the lively room.
‘Bueno! Guys, I’m going to teach you to make the best, I’m not joking, the best guacamole. Honestly, it’s an aphrodisiac. Know what my magic ingredient is?’ She grinned bumping the man beside her with her hip.
‘Wanna put money on it being marijuana?’ Chance murmured trying to lighten the mood.
‘Mmm,’ said Simi distracted. ‘You should say something to Joy, shouldn’t you?’
‘How? I don’t want to hurt her.’
Simi spooned avocado into her bowl. So, Chance was single it’s just that this red-haired loon hadn’t got the memo. ‘But you’re not…’
‘No,’
he said.
Simi pounded the avocado mush. ‘Have you kissed?’ she asked after a while.
Reluctantly, Chance nodded, throwing coriander into their dish. ‘That’s how it started. It was just this one time. Straight away I knew it was wrong. Now, I just meet her for a coffee or a beer from time to time. That’s it,’ he said looking into Simi’s eyes.
She could see he was telling the truth. There was an honesty about him but there was something else too or something missing. Though he was convincing it didn’t feel like it was her he was trying to convince. But if not her, then who?
Simi looked up at him. ‘Let’s change the subject.’
‘Fine by me,’ he agreed.
‘You know what is my special ingredient? Amoooorrr,’ said Carmen. ‘Love. What you think I was gonna say? Come on. Keep chopping!’
Simi glimpsed over at Chance who dutifully began dicing tomatoes.
‘And you know what would go so well with this one?’ asked Carmen.
‘Tequila!’ everyone shouted.
Thoughts of red-haired temptresses were set aside as Simi threw an anxious glance around the room. Everyone, including Chance, seemed thrilled about washing all this down with tequila, all fifty-seven varieties on the menu if they could. Simi wanted to join in but the last time she drunk neat tequila she’d woken up on the Eurostar. She would politely decline. There had to be another way to show Chance what a great match they were.
From across the counter, Chance handed Simi a brimming shot glass. ‘I’m so glad you’re up for this. I love a girl who appreciates a quality spirit.’
‘That’s me!’ she said, sweat beading on her forehead. ‘Down the bottom! I mean up the hatch!’
‘I think I’m allergic to tequila,’ Simi slurred as spittle bubbled in the corner of her mouth.
‘Maybe,’ said Chance as he readjusted his grip of her.
Simi’s head flopped forward onto his shoulder as he ascended the hallway stairs to Jemima’s flat. Thank God he was strong enough to give her a piggyback. In these shoes and this state, she wouldn’t have made it to the station let alone back here.
‘You’re amazing,’ she hiccupped into his ear.
‘Thanks. Is this the one?’ he whispered, stopping outside Jemima’s door.
Simi peeled her head off his shoulder.
‘Yep!’ she said before thumping it back down.
‘Keys?’
‘Yesssss! Keys, keys, keys. Shhhhhhh!’ Simi said shushing herself.
She rummaged in her bag. Finally she found them and jabbed in the general direction of the lock.
‘I’ll do it,’ said Chance, taking them from her.
‘Chance, I think you should do it,’ Simi said as she slid down his back onto the floor.
Chance pushed the door open and hoisted Simi up as best he could. He tucked an arm around her waist and led her through to the living room where she flopped onto the sofa. After removing her coat and shoes, Chance dragged the duvet over her.
‘Okay, mate,’ he said. ‘I’m gonna shoot.’
‘Can you get me some water pleeeease?’
Chance took a deep breath and smiled before going through to the kitchen, quickly returning with a glass. Simi tried to drink but nausea threatened like the growl of an approaching train.
‘You okay?’ said Chance feeling her brow. ‘You’re hot.’
‘Thanks, babes, so are you.’ She winked, stroking his face.
‘No, I mean, you’re sweltering. In fact, this flat is like an oven. I’ll turn the heating down or you’ll get dehydrated and make your hangover even worse.’
‘Thanks, Doc. It’s by the door,’ said Simi gulping down another nauseous ebb.
Chance went over, keeping half an eye on her as he adjusted the thermostat.
‘Would you stay, just until I’m asleep?’ Simi whimpered.
Chance lingered, throwing a furtive look down the hall then back at Simi.
‘Pleeeeease?’
‘Sure.’ He nodded, shaking off his jacket.
Simi listened as the boiler grumbled to stillness and Chance wedged himself on the edge of the sofa on top of the duvet. As she nestled into the crook of his arm, she quickly drifted to sleep.
Simi opened her eyes. Outside it was light but still early. Chance had fallen asleep, arm still around her. He really was lovely. She could see why Jemima liked him. In the cold light of day she could deny that no longer. Equally, only a dunce could fail to see, he liked Jemima too – a lot. As always, however, Simi had fought for a different truth that gave her what she wanted. She gulped as she remembered what Chance had said about Joy, she just decides, it’s you and that’s it. Wasn’t that what she did? In every relationship she ignored the signs – the real signs, because it wasn’t what she wanted. She’d come a long way since cowering in Oscar’s basement yet that deep desperation not to be alone still haunted her. Just days before, she’d been talking about abstaining from men but just like that, she was planning an imaginary wedding. She thought of her cosmic ordering book and the many married name signatures she’d scrawled in it and then crossed out. That was not normal. She thought of the pets and the parties and photos she’d pinned to her vision-board before she’d even had a first date. She was trying to quench a thirst that could never be satisfied. Would she ever find a relationship that would leave her feeling complete?
But then Simi’s mouth slackened as it dawned on her – perhaps that fundamental question was the root of the problem. Since her father’s absence, she’d been searching for someone to fill the gaping hole he left. However, in the hazy morning light, she finally saw that this space didn’t need to be filled. It needed to be healed. Rather than searching for a replacement, she needed to let her father go. She needed to forgive herself, reminding herself daily if she had to, that what happened was not her fault. That’s where her sense of completion lay. She had done nothing wrong and no relationship, no person could make her whole. That sense of completion could only come from within.
Simi blinked away tears and smiled. How had it taken 35 years to realise she could stand up for herself, make her own choices and she didn’t need a man. She was complete as she was. She looked over at her boxes, bags and suitcases in Jemima’s living room. It was time for change. Firstly, she would step aside and let Jemima and Chance figure out whatever was going on between them. She would make peace with Meagan and get her career on track. But this time, instead of waiting for an agent to fix her problems, she would take control. It had been ten years since their stand-up course. It was time to be brave and give it a try. A lot of her favourite actresses came from a comedy background. There was every chance it might open doors for Simi too.
And lastly, it was time to find a place of her own. She had to start navigating the world without depending on others. It would be hard but that was what it meant to be a grown-up, not a girl desperately seeking her daddy’s love. Even if she failed, it was time to try. As the sun peeked between the curtains, Simi could feel her new dawn rising, a second chance at a different way of living. She was going to embrace it with both hands. Happy tears trickled down her face.
Chapter 41
Jemima
Jemima prised her eyes open and looked over at Miles. He was sitting up in bed reading The Observer on his iPad, looking content, as though their two years apart had never happened.
‘Morning, sleepy head,’ he said, eyes still on his article.
Oh god, thought Jemima, murmuring a generic reply. She scanned the room like a scene-of-crime officer. Clothes strewn across the floor. Empty wine glasses. Tissue flowers on the bedside table. Nether regions that felt like a pounded chicken escalope. Yep. Sex had taken place. And though she would testify otherwise, the fact was, she had instigated it. She had made the phone call after that hellish brunch and like Bruce Wayne responding to the Bat-Signal, Miles had been over like a shot – that evening.
Jemima also couldn’t deny, however, that it had been what she needed, something familiar,
distracting, disposable. But now, she wanted him to leave. Their night together was the coda to a series of awful decisions which needed to end with him dressed and out the door. Things were awkward enough without Simi bumping into him going for her morning pee. Jemima glowered as he took a leisurely sip of his coffee. Perhaps, she calculated, if she surfaced it would encourage him to do the same. She tried propping herself up but that made her head pound like the bass bin at a warehouse rave.
‘You really put it away last night,’ chuckled Miles.
Jemima felt a swell of nausea but this time it wasn’t because of the three bottles of wine they’d sunk. It was him. She flung back the duvet and lurched to the window, scrambling to open it. Thunder rumbled in the distance but the cold, brutal breeze felt good.
‘Says it’s gonna rain most of today. Course, that needn’t bother us when we’re in LA, eh?’ said Miles as he swiped through the rest of the newspaper.
Jemima froze. ‘We’? As the first splatters of rain fell, her addled brain began to piece together fragments of their drunken conversation from the night before. She’d confessed her LA ambitions to Miles and he’d carped on about how he’d love to move there too. Oh god, Jemima murmured. She’d said moving would be great for his career and that he would love it there but he’d taken it to mean they should love it there together! This was madness. Jemima hadn’t even confirmed she was going! She clasped her hand over her mouth. It was LA that had initiated the sex. Miles had said how the dry LA heat made him horny and in her drunken haze Jemima had cranked up the heating to full blast. Next thing, they were entangled under her sheets while Miles negotiated the terms of his expatriation. Jemima deflated into a ball. LA was about getting away from everything she’d screwed up not taking it with her. If Miles was going to hijack her great escape, she might as well charter a plane and take Simi, Meagan, Chance, Shaheena, Eve and the staff of Hudson Hicks with her too.
‘Think of it, Jem-Jem,’ said Miles sliding in behind her at the window. ‘In a few months we could be doing this looking out at the Pacific Ocean.’