Double Ex: A Romantic Comedy about Lost Love & Lookalikes

by Lee Daniel Bullen

  ‘I was on holiday.’

  ‘You took two days to get here!’

  ‘It was a long-distance holiday. I’ve come straight from the airport.’

  ‘That explains why you look like an idiot.’ he sneered and waved the workman away; he summoned Sam close, ‘Take Tony and go visit Nick Green. Keep it simple, keep it clean and hurt him good, understand?’

  Sam’s jaunty demeanour quickly greyed, ‘Really, Nick Green? I thought that was done with?’

  Josh ignored him, ‘The usual price. Make it look like he had a nasty fall.’ He playfully grabbed Sam’s left arm, ‘You know, like you did to his mate!’

  ‘What did he do to you, this bloke?’ he asked curiously; Josh was taken aback.

  ‘Well, he broke my nose.’

  ‘I know, I saw the splint, but I thought that was a pub scuffle?’

  ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘Just wondered if there was more to it?’

  ‘Are you questioning me?’

  ‘No, boss, of course not.’

  ‘Certainly sounds like it to me!’

  Sam scratched his head anxiously, ‘I’m used to scum. I know how to handle them.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘It’s just that Nick seems a nice normal feller, I can’t quite get my head round it.’

  ‘He stood up to me!’ he shrieked in Sam’s face, ‘Okay?’ He calmed and spoke quietly, ‘He stood up to me.’ and he looked to the floor as Sam stared at his pained employer a remarkably long time trying to comprehend what that meant. Josh felt exposed; he looked around the gallery and noticed everyone looking. ‘What are you all gawping at?’ his voice shrilled around the open spaces, ‘Get back to work!’ The workmen immediately returned to their jobs. ‘And you!’ Josh said spitting venom in Sam’s direction, ‘Has your head got round the situation now?’

  ‘Yes, boss.’

  ‘Do you think I pay you for your judgement?’ he said indignantly.

  ‘No, boss.’

  ‘So go do it!’

  ‘Yes, boss.’ he replied and saw Sofia sat cross-legged on a leather chair inside Josh’s office, looking at them through the opened door and casually sipping an espresso.

  Chapter 15

  Hosts & Visitors

  ‘Corsica!’ Konrad shrieked as he opened the street door; she lowered her cap and scanned the pavement for eavesdroppers.

  ‘Keep it down, no one knows I’m back.’ she said bustling past and climbing the stairs, ‘Which one is it?’

  ‘First apartment, door on your left.’ he instructed, brimming with excitement. He checked the street was safe of cameramen and gangsters then followed her up. Corsica entered the flat and saw Nick behind his easel in a darkened corner; they both startled at the sight of each other.

  ‘Blimey.’ she said breathlessly.

  ‘You’re…’ he stuttered, wagging his finger at her.

  ‘Yes, she is.’ Konrad announced, breezing in and closing the door. ‘Now we’re introduced how about a nice cup of tea?’

  ‘Er, yeh. Lovely.’ Nick replied.

  ‘Was kind of hoping you’d make it.’ Konrad said, gesturing to Corsica with his eyes.

  ‘Right!’ he said laying his brush in a wine glass of murky water, and dashed to the kitchen.

  ‘How was Portugal?’ Konrad asked, distracted by her sparkling eyes and relaxed demeanour.

  ‘Quiet!’ she said and gave him a spontaneous hug, clinging on like a wife welcoming her husband home from a lengthy war. He cuddled back but was somewhat overwhelmed by her body weight. ‘It’s great to be back though.’ she said finally releasing him, causing him to spring like a coil. ‘Things are calming down, I’m already forgotten!’

  ‘Hardly!’ he argued, rubbing his neck, ‘They’ve gone from running you down to guessing where you’re hiding. You’re still daily news.’

  ‘Yeh, but Coco Monroe’s wedding is next week so they’ll soon move on. I’m staying with an aunt in Berkshire until I decide what to do next, which is why I’m here now!’

  ‘Great, well let’s go somewhere and talk.’

  Leaving Nick alone to paint, Konrad and Corsica went to his propaganda-filled bedroom with tea and a small plate of chocolate digestives.

  ‘So how have yer been?’ she enquired, dunking a biscuit in her cup and regarding the gloomy images of deforestation and human destruction stuck to the walls.

  ‘Good!’ he answered brightly. ‘Nick got a light sentence, we’ve had no more threats on our lives and you’re back in the country!’

  ‘Here I am!’

  ‘Why though? I mean why here, my place?’

  ‘I wanted to speak to you about something.’

  ‘Okay…’

  ‘About helping you.’ she said sincerely, ‘As you – in a strange way – helped me.’

  ‘Did I?’ he said like a confused child.

  ‘Yes!’ she laughed. ‘Like that! That open honesty; I only ever meet people with false fronts.’

  ‘Okay, so I’m nice, how does that help?’

  ‘I’m not just talking about your sweetness, Konrad. You’re also passionate and clever and you always want to help others.’

  He blushed, unsure where this was leading, ‘Thank you…’ he mumbled, ‘I think you’re pretty amaz…’

  ‘And you’re impulsive and helpful!’ she interrupted, grinning intrepidly at the ceiling.

  ‘Again, I’m really grateful…’

  ‘And I’m going to dedicate my next project to helping you!’ she announced emotionally.

  ‘Help me?’ he slopped a soggy biscuit down his front and looked at her like she was a tough crossword puzzle; she felt slightly shot-down.

  ‘Well, you, the heath, the trees…’ she explained weakly.

  ‘I’m really not following.’

  ‘Remember I said I didn’t know what I wanted to do next, and that meeting you meant something important?’

  ‘Yeh…’

  She looked to the far-off distance, ‘And then you invited me to Viaduct Bridge…’ she said losing herself in romanticised recollection.

  ‘Actually you invi…’

  ‘Then you led me down to that lovely pond…’

  ‘Again, that was …’

  ‘And told me that horrible story of how it will soon be gone.’

  ‘Yes, that I actually did do.’

  ‘And I want to help you save it!’ she said girlishly.

  He appeared more baffled than excited, ‘Save it? How?’

  ‘Give a little weight to the cause.’ she replied. ‘A known celebrity attached, bit of razzmatazz and all that.’

  ‘Cause? Look Corsica, there is no cause. The City of London Corporation own the land and are developing it – it’s gone through, no more can be done about it.’

  ‘What about protesting?’

  ‘We did.’ he said, feeling like he was bursting her balloon, ‘There was some local opposition but it was mostly kept out of the media and the fat cats won. They even got most of the locals believing the development will be an endearing addition to the park and artistically in keeping with the natural surroundings!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Exactly! Artistically in keeping – what does that even mean?’ he scoffed as they both lingered dangerously on their digestive dunks.

  ‘What are they going to build there?’

  ‘A themed village secluded in the middle of Hampstead Heath offering walkers a refreshment stop – undoubtedly with every corporate coffeehouse franchise at hand!’

  ‘Sounds like a naff Disney World!’ she said, losing half a biscuit to the inside of her cup.

  ‘Worse than that, you know what they’re calling it? The Village in the Heart of the Heath. That’s a real thing; I’m not making it up!’

  ‘You must be!’

  ‘I know!’ he said and tried to eat a dipped biscuit before it sploshed in his mug, sending splash-back onto his shirt. They both laughed until the weight of the subject called Corsica round.
>
  ‘The owners, this corporation thing, is that even real?’

  ‘Yeh, they govern the City of London, the financial sector and much of London’s green spaces. They’ve always enjoyed special privileges due to history and influence over the capital.’

  ‘Then we hit them directly.’ she said, the seed of an idea spurting in her mind.

  ‘Easy Corsica, I’m not a tree terrorist…’

  ‘No, you idiot.’ she said rising to her feet with her fists clenched, ‘We create awareness and start a fresh campaign – bring this to the attention of the whole country, not just the lame locals who bent over and allowed this to happen!’ she announced with the powerful air of an ancient queen. Konrad felt emotionally stirred, wanting to contribute to the brainstorm session on halting the McVillage in the Park but was some way behind her revolutionary train of thought; he tried to catch up but the catalyst had left the station.

  ‘How could we achieve such a thing?’ he asked like a royal subject in awe of his sovereign. Corsica was caught cold by his instant faith – she had to think on her feet.

  ‘We stage a benefit – a concert – in the park itself.’ she began hesitantly, ‘I can help attract artists.’ she added, the vision slowly forming in her head. ‘Obviously I wouldn’t be involved beyond promotion, it wouldn’t be a celebrity concert of glorified karaoke singers – nor a massive rockfest otherwise it would have to be staged elsewhere – we’d get the best up-and-coming live acts available and make it as authentic and credible as possible.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I like it!’ he drooled.

  Corsica raised her chin with self-congratulation and strutted Konrad’s room like a peahen bearing her cleavage of plumage to a male suitor; he was overawed by her splendour, ‘We’ll approach the authorities and tell them it’s in aid of environmental awareness or something like that, while behind the scenes everything will be organised to attack plans to corporatise the area.’

  ‘Sneaky!’ he said.

  ‘At the very worst we hold an amazing concert and bring some important issues to the attention of a lot of people; at best we achieve that and get to preserve our beautiful corner of the heath!’

  Konrad mulled the idea searching for pitfalls; maybe it was his overpowering attraction for Corsica but for once in his life he was unable to find fault in something, ‘I think I…’ he paused; sentimental-lust nearly causing him to blurt out something foolish, ‘…I think you’re amazing.’ he corrected, addressing his hormones.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes!’ he said also getting to his feet and pondering the plan, ‘Plus this could be really good for you.’ he took the baton of dreamy optimism from Corsica and paced the floor-space she’d just worn down. She sat on the bed and helped herself to another biscuit; it was her turn to pay admirable attention and hang on every utterance. ‘As you predicted, your solo career bombed and you’re experiencing a massive drop in popularity – while the media and moguls who control your career seem intent on bringing you down – you’re supposed to skulk off and do tacky celeb shows and open supermarkets now, but this is a different route…’ he said scratching his chin with his strapped hand. ‘It would be ridiculously self-important to attempt a massive campaign for world hunger or something – no offence but you’re no Bob Geldof!’

  ‘Accepted.’

  ‘But a smaller benefit promoting live acts for a local cause with national appeal… that’s ballsy!’ he said with a cunning grin.

  ‘Should I get my people to make enquiries?’

  ‘Why not? And maybe speak to my friend, Lucy – she’s a music promoter who knows the scene and best new acts around.’

  ‘Perfect!’ Corsica beamed. The doorbell chimed around the apartment, vibrating into Konrad’s room and shattering their scheming. Nick shouted considerately from the living room.

  ‘Don’t get up, I got it!’ and he downed paintbrush to answer the door. He nearly collapsed when he saw Sofia on the other side, elegantly stunning in a hugging red summer dress. He staggered back and stared long and hard, emotions and memories exploding round his mind like fireworks.

  ‘Hi, Nick. How you been?’ she asked after a patient pause to allow time to buffer his shock.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Nick asked, messily squashing a teabag against the side of a mug, ‘Sugar?’

  ‘No, thank you.’ Sofia replied, watching him busy around the kitchen, lost in a confused world of questions. He eventually proffered her the absently-prepared brown drink; she accepted it and put it on the counter, sliding it out of reach.

  ‘I have some information you should know.’ she said sympathetically, ‘And I was really hoping you could help me with something too.’

  ‘Help you?’ he sneered, recalling his year of unbearable pain and raising a protective barrier.

  ‘Nick, it’s actually very important – I wouldn’t be here otherwise.’

  ‘Well I suppose it must be!’ he answered churlishly, ‘Why else would you break months of silence?’

  Sofia ignored his expected sarcasm and said what she’d mentally-prepared on her way over, ‘Two large men, one of them Samoan, are going to visit you very soon, if you know what I mean?’

  Nick’s face remained unchanged, ‘How do you know this?’

  ‘I overheard someone.’

  ‘Your boyfriend?’ he said catching her by surprise; she composed herself.

  ‘That doesn’t matter; I just thought you should be aware.’

  ‘And the purpose of their visit?’

  ‘It will be ugly, you should get away.’

  ‘I doubt I need to worry, we’ve encountered their work before.’ he said grabbing a severed horse head from the table and thrusting it in her face; she shrugged at the sorry toy in front of her and looked him in the eye.

  ‘It’s serious, I’ve never seen him like this before.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘You know who.’ she replied, stepping back and looking to the floor.

  ‘Josh?’ he said, further ripping the soft toy in his hands. ‘So it’s been him interfering with the case, breaking-in here, and sending threats to me and my friends? Why?’

  ‘I don’t know. Power-tripping, I guess. You humiliated him, Nick, and he operates in very high circles. You’ve been on top throughout a war he started and you never even knew! It’s been driving him crazy.’

  ‘This is all because I hit him in a pub and didn’t go to prison for it?’

  ‘And jealousy – he’s a very competitive man; it’s been like a game.’

  ‘Now he plays his winning hand and I end up on a drip in A&E?’

  ‘If you wait around for it…’ Sofia gave him a concerned look then timidly turned her head, ‘Now you have to tell me something.’

  Nick straightened, aware it was only right to return her unexpected help, ‘Okay.’

  ‘Who’s Lucy?’ she asked. ‘And what does she have to do with all this?’

  Nick was surprised by the question, ‘Lucy’s my…’ he paused, blocked from admitting his affections for another person to Sofia and fell like a fool into the infinite blackness of his ex’s eyes. His mesmerised gaze dropped to her red lips, smooth olive neckline and pert chest, elegantly-teasing under her flimsy dress. ‘…friend.’ he said dimly.

  ‘How does Josh know her?’ she pressed, already sure but needing confirmation nonetheless. Nick squirmed in his slippers, he looked at her awkwardly.

  ‘She was with him that day at the pub. They slept together the night before.’ he said through an apologetic grimace. Sofia merely blinked and gave him a warm smile.

  Samoan Sam and Tony stood outside 222, Camden High Street weighing up the scene. Tony was pumped and itching for blood while Sam was drenched in apprehension.

  ‘Lights are on and I see shadows moving.’ Tony said, nudging Sam in the arm. ‘I reckon it’s good to go in.’

  ‘I dunno.’ he grumbled, squinting at the building. ‘We should be sure.’

  ‘He’s up there!’ Tony sneere
d, looking Sam up and down. ‘What’s up with you? Man-up! We gotta job to do!’

  ‘He’s no one this bloke – some wannabe artist with nice pals and a simple life – we shouldn’t be doing this to people like him.’

  ‘What?’ Tony spat. ‘We don’t decide the jobs we just do ‘em!’ He shook his head, laughing at the sensitive henchman’s moment of doubt, ‘Look at you! Aren’t you like Maori or something? I thought you guys were supposed to be warriors?’

  Sam’s eyes twinkled and a proud smile creased his lips, ‘Maori! You’re the first person to ever get that…’

  ‘Do you need to do a rain dance or scalp a buffalo or something?’ he asked seriously. Sam’s shoulders returned to their previously slovenly state and he blew out a dejected sigh. ‘Come on, let’s get this done.’ Tony said, slapping him in the gut to motivate some hardened violence, and he headed to the entrance.

  Konrad and Corsica arrived in the living room with empty tea mugs, arm-in-arm and giggling from their giddy plan-making; they stopped short when they saw Nick in intimate conversation with a striking woman in red.

  ‘Sofia!’ Konrad hissed with notable hatred etched in his sound vibrations, easily deciphered by the group’s currently heightened minds.

  ‘Corsica Coleman!’ Sofia blurted with notable star-struck admiration emanating from her tones. ‘Konrad?’ she said with a drastic change to apparent disgust, confused at seeing him with Corsica.

  ‘Nicholas Green?’ Konrad said questioningly, turning to his best friend with a cross scowl.

  ‘No, no. It’s not what you think…’ he protested as the front door burst open and Tony lunged inside, frothing at the mouth like a rabid tiger; Sam lumbered slowly behind.

  Tony’s menacing expression switched to shock at the sight of the foursome in front of him, ‘Corsica Coleman!’ he blabbed.

  Sam’s disinterest soared to distress when he recognised the dark beauty next to the celebrity, ‘Sofia!’

  ‘Introductions are over!’ Konrad growled, leaping forwards and brandishing his arm-cast like it was Cyclops’s club. Tony panicked and stumbled against the wall, knocking a decorative dish brought back from Konrad’s childhood trip to Cornwall. He launched it at the approaching madman and the plate whizzed past his ear, arcing with foreboding flight to Nick’s head – knocking him to the floor and smashing on the carpet, taking with it his consciousness and Konrad’s proud keepsake from a beloved school holiday full of frolic and hope. He charged at the intruders with fearless determination and thudded into Tony’s abdomen like a battering ram, sending him reeling into Samoan Sam who staggered through the door under Tony’s dead weight and Konrad’s impassioned pushing. They stumbled onto the landing and with a final shove of steely pluck Konrad saw them over the edge of the stairs; watching with a satisfied glint as the entangled limbs of his foes descended the steps with a series of cracks and squeals of pain. Corsica ran to embrace her hero while Sofia called emergency services and tended to Nick. As she stroked his hair he slowly came round and looked at her like a dazed puppy.