What a Girl Wants

by Lindsey Kelk

  ‘Isn’t that Tess?’ another not-so-bald man asked.

  ‘Tess?’ The more times I heard my own name out loud, the less it sounded like my name in the first place.

  Paige stood up and laughed with forced hilarity. ‘This is our assistant, Vanessa,’ she explained, pointing at me. ‘She brought me some notes I left in the office. Isn’t that’s right, Ness?’

  Speechless, I nodded and dug deep in my handbag looking for something to give to Paige. Charlie stared daggers into my back as I slipped past him and, without warning, the pain in the bottom of my foot suddenly began to scream again.

  ‘Ness? The notes?’ Paige’s perfectly made-up scarlet lips pouted at me as I produced a napkin from the plane that I had doodled all over on the flight.

  ‘Here they are,’ I said, staring at the two men on the other side of the table. ‘These are the up-to-date numbers.’

  ‘That’s great.’ She took the napkin and quickly shoved it underneath her notepad. ‘We’ll meet you outside, yeah?’

  ‘Yes.’ I tottered backwards out of the room, crashing through the doors and throwing myself into an uncomfortable black leather armchair. I took off my shoe and rubbed the sore spot on the sole of my foot, wondering how many times I would have to drive the heel into my temple before I actually died.

  I waited for fifteen minutes before Very Bald and Quite Bald exited the meeting room, casting doubtful glances at me on their way out. As soon as they were safely in the lift and on their way, I forced myself out of my chair and sloped back inside.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Charlie did not look especially pleased to see me.

  ‘I came for the pitch,’ I said, pointing at Paige. At my friend, Paige. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Charlie needed someone to stand in for you at the pitch,’ she said carefully, with the look of someone who really didn’t know what was going on. ‘It was your idea.’

  ‘Was it?’ I asked. ‘I thought we all agreed that pretending to be someone we’re not was a bad idea in general?’

  ‘I was trying to help you,’ she said, holding her hands out defensively. ‘I took the pitch materials over to Charlie, like you asked, and he said he was coming out to see you Friday and then he called me last night to see if I could stand in for you because you couldn’t make it back from Milan in time. I texted you and you didn’t reply. I assumed you were otherwise engaged.’

  ‘Are you serious?’ I wasn’t sure which of them I was talking to.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Charlie said again. ‘Shouldn’t you be in Italy with your boyfriend?’

  ‘Oh!’ Paige’s eyes widened. ‘In Milan? He saw?’

  I nodded and pressed my lips together tightly, confused and annoyed and guilty and weirdly hungry.

  ‘I came for the pitch, like I said I would,’ I told him, as he started packing up his things. ‘And Paige, I didn’t get your text because I broke my phone throwing it at an Italian airport security wanker. Long story.’

  ‘Why bother?’ Charlie shoved his notebooks and pens deep into the beautiful leather man-bag I had bought him two Christmases ago, two bright red spots blossoming on his cheeks. ‘Surely you don’t think we’re still going to work together on this?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ I folded my arms across myself. ‘I came because it’s important to you. We both worked hard on it and I didn’t want to see it fall apart.’

  ‘Yeah, it looked like you were working hard,’ he said, jabbing at the air between us with a pen. Paige began to shuffle slowly towards the door. ‘You let me think you were nipping off to Italy to do your little art project and all the time, you were shagging somebody else.’

  ‘I was not all the time shagging someone else,’ I replied, not quite sure how to defend myself. ‘Yes, I met Nick in Hawaii but I came home and I didn’t think I’d ever see him again, and then he showed up in Milan. But I didn’t plan it and didn’t want to talk to you about it on the phone, so—’

  There. The truth. That was a novel concept.

  Charlie slung his back across his shoulder. ‘Oh, fuck off.’

  Albeit not a popular one.

  ‘If it helps,’ Paige piped up from the doorway, ‘it’s the truth. I was in Hawaii with them. But she really thought he wasn’t interested when she got with you.’

  ‘Thanks, Paige,’ I said, rubbing my hand across my forehead. It was like having a blonde Amy. ‘Very helpful.’

  ‘No, yeah, that’s great, I’m really happy to be the back-up,’ he said, sticking his hands in his pockets. ‘Has he dumped you again? Is that why you’re really back?’

  ‘That’s not why I’m back,’ I said.

  ‘So he has dumped you again,’ Charlie said, throwing an empty laugh in for good measure. ‘Clever bloke. Too good-looking for you anyway.’

  I wasn’t used to Charlie being cruel. Angry, yes, upset on occasion and, very rarely, downright dickish but this was awful. Finally something I didn’t know about Charlie: when he truly was hurt, he could be vicious.

  ‘I came to help,’ I said, recalling Al’s advice and wishing I’d taken it sooner. He was still raw; it was my fault and I needed to back away and give him some space. ‘But you didn’t need me.’

  ‘No, I don’t need you,’ he said, throwing his satchel around onto his back. ‘In fact, I’ve got all your shit in my flat. You can go and get it and clear it out if you want, otherwise I’ll put it back on the street where I found it.’

  ‘How have you got my stuff?’ Had I missed something? ‘Why was it on the street?’

  ‘I have it because Vanessa called me to say she was giving it away to tramps if I didn’t come and get it,’ he explained. ‘And like a twat, I went. She tried it on again, actually. I didn’t bother but maybe I should have. She knows her way around a bed, that girl. Better than some people.’

  I couldn’t move. If he’d slapped me round the face, it couldn’t have hurt more.

  ‘Let’s get you out of here.’ Paige reached over and grabbed my arm, and pulled me out of the boardroom, leaving Charlie standing staring at me, holding tightly to his man-bag.

  Given how much had gone on in the week since I’d last seen her, it didn’t take a terribly long time to catch Paige up on my adventures. Typically, she asked for a lot of detail on the outfits Kekipi and I had bought and just exactly how much discount he was good for on the streets of Milan but for the most part, she stayed schtum and drank her wine while I talked.

  ‘I took today off so I could help Charlie out,’ she said, topping off her drink and settling back in the sun. We had found a pub round the corner from the office that had the tiniest balcony in the world but since it was half eleven on a Monday, there wasn’t a lot of competition for our table. ‘I haven’t heard anything about the Artie–Al drama. The girls on the fashion desk will be all over it, I’m sure.’

  ‘I feel so bad for him.’ I gingerly pressed a finger against my bruised cheekbone, half wanting to take the make-up off for extra sympathy from the attractive waiter and half never wanting anything with a penis to so much as look at me ever again. ‘Imagine your kid being such a shit.’

  ‘Rich people are beyond help,’ she replied. ‘Rich people and apparently everyone you have ever had sex with, ever.’

  ‘I do not have a good track record,’ I agreed, chucking back a handful of peanuts. ‘I’m thinking about retiring my vag and becoming a nun. Can they drink? Because if they can drink, it might not be so bad.’

  ‘I’m googling it,’ she said, flipping down the screen of her fancy phone as she spoke. ‘What are you going do now?’

  ‘Drink this.’ I pointed at the very full glass of wine in front of me and then began pulling the pins out my bun. ‘Call my agent. Find somewhere to sleep that isn’t the street. Take it from there?’

  ‘You’re welcome to my sofa.’ Paige held up her phone in triumph. ‘And the good news is, nuns can drink. So, there’s an option for you.’

  ‘And I really do like Italy,’ I said, mul
ling it over. ‘And black and white have always been good colours for me.’

  She rested her elbows on the table and leaned her chin into her hands. ‘What are you going to do about Charlie?’

  I picked away at the label of the wine bottle, hoping to find some secret wisdom underneath, but there was only more wine. Not that wine wasn’t an answer. ‘I could call him and say “Sorry, the person I thought was just a distraction turned out to be the person I love and the person I thought I loved turned out to be a distraction? And in case it’s not clear, you’re the distraction.” Who wouldn’t love to hear that?’

  ‘I’ve heard worse,’ she said, lining up all the tiny hairgrips that I was scattering on the table. ‘What about Nick? You going to tell him that?’

  ‘I did twenty-eight years of never telling anyone anything.’ I pulled out the last half dozen grips and shook my hair loose. It felt good. ‘And in the last three weeks, I’ve told everyone everything. I’m going to try for some middle ground. I told him where I’m at, I can’t force him to be in the same place.’

  ‘You’re so clever,’ she said with a frown. ‘Why aren’t I as clever as you?’

  ‘I sound clever right now,’ I agreed, rubbing my fingertips into my scalp. ‘But that’s because someone else told me to do that. Really, I want to bury myself under fifteen blankets and eat my way through an entire Chinese takeaway menu, screaming “why doesn’t he love me?” after every bite. This is what’s called a brave face.’

  ‘You’re very good at it.’ Paige tucked her long blonde hair behind her ear and looked over the balcony at bright and shiny London. ‘We should definitely get a Chinese tonight though.’

  ‘I suppose I have to get on with it, don’t I?’ I said, running through the heartbreak handbook in my mind. ‘Move on with my life, get over Nick, make some decisions?’

  ‘Sounds shit,’ she replied. ‘Let’s get smashed instead.’

  Her phone, full of pictures of nuns, sparkled into life and a picture of an incredibly stern-looking woman replaced Julie Andrews and Mother Theresa.

  ‘Fuck, it’s work.’ She stood up, taking her phone with her. ‘I’ve got to take this. Back in a minute. Don’t drink all the wine. Actually do, you deserve it. I’ll bring more.’

  She ducked inside, leaving me to watch a double-decker bus weaving its way through a tiny side street, under a bridge and back out again. I loved double-decker buses. When Amy and I were little, there was nothing more exciting than racing up the stairs to sit in the front seat to drive it – if someone was already in our seat, then God help them. And when I said little, this went on pretty much until we graduated. Now, whenever I took the bus, I made a point of not sitting there. I wasn’t sure if it was because I didn’t want to fall foul of a next generation Amy or because I was worried that it wouldn’t be the same, that I was too old for it now. Probably a bit of both.

  The bus rode right past me and I saw a woman sitting in the front seat, reading a book. She wasn’t even looking out of the window. What a waste, I thought, next time I sit in the front seat again, I’ll have my eyes open. And that was when I realized. I didn’t want to get over Nick. I didn’t want to move on with my life.

  I pulled out my borrowed phone and my notebook, and dialled the first number scribbled on the inside cover.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Veronica?’

  ‘Yes. What?’

  ‘It’s Tess,’ I said, looking out for another double-decker bus. ‘Tess Brookes.’

  ‘You little shit!’ she boomed on the other end of the line. ‘I’ve been calling you for days and you haven’t answered. What the fucking fuck is going on?’

  ‘Loads actually.’ I didn’t think she needed the entire story, not on the phone anyway. Why deprive myself of the five years she would take off my life with her chain smoking when I saw her in person? ‘Did you get the pictures I sent over yesterday?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Did you get any of my fucking messages? The deal is, I call you, you fucking well answer.’

  ‘Did you like the pictures?’ I asked.

  ‘Of course I liked the pictures,’ she replied. ‘They’re good shots and they’re making us both a shit-ton of money. You better not have called me to say you’re jacking this all in to sell me a pissing chicken because I will have you fucking killed.’

  ‘The chicken thing didn’t work out as well as it could have,’ I admitted, spotting a new bus in the distance, headed my way. ‘I’ve been thinking, I want to go back to Milan. Finish up the project with Al.’

  ‘Halle-fucking-lujah,’ she barked, breaking in the middle of her swearing to suck on her cigarette. ‘Amazing. You’re not a completely useless twat after all, are you?’

  ‘Not completely useless,’ I agreed. ‘I’m trying.’

  ‘You were trying my fucking patience,’ she replied. ‘Now get your arse back to Italy so I can get an invoice in. I’m not doing this for fun, you know.’

  ‘No, I know,’ I said, excited. ‘I’m going to do a really good job, trust me.’

  ‘Of course you fucking are, why wouldn’t you?’ Veronica asked. ‘When are you going? Just so I know where in the world you’re fucking hiding, otherwise I’m going to inject one of them tracker chips in you like I’ve got in the dog.’

  I sat back in my seat and smiled. ‘You’ve got a dog?’

  ‘When are you going?’ she shouted.

  ‘Tonight,’ I replied, unfastening the top two buttons of my shirt. ‘This afternoon. I’ll be back in Milan tonight.’

  ‘Whoop-de-fucking-doo!’ Veronica cheered. ‘No more fucking mention of chickens?’

  ‘No more,’ I promised. ‘Unless you want me to take a photo of a chicken.’

  ‘Right fucking answer.’ I could have sworn I heard her smiling. ‘And yes. Two dogs. Yorkies. Little bastards, the pair of them.’

  And then she hung up.

  ‘You all right?’ I asked Paige as she stomped back out onto the terrace, as hard as her kitten heels would allow. ‘Not good news?’

  ‘Someone’s fucked up a spread.’ She picked up her glass of wine and took a huge swig. ‘I’m going to have to go in. Honestly, I can’t even take one day off without some jobsworth cocking everything up.’

  ‘Never mind, you’ll get the holiday back, yeah?’ I asked, finishing off my own glass and embracing the sudden tipsiness that went straight to my head. ‘You can use it to come and visit me in Milan.’

  ‘You’re going back?’ Paige squealed in a way that only very girly girls can get away with and gave me a big, skinny hug. ‘When?’

  ‘Now, I suppose,’ I said, brushing my hair back and watching as the next double-decker bus rushed past us, two teenage girls in the front seat with their feet up on the rails, laughing in each other’s faces. ‘Am I mental?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said very seriously. ‘But it’s pretty cool. And I don’t really want you crying on my settee for three weeks either.’

  ‘That’s fair,’ I accepted. ‘I am a bit gutted about the Chinese though. Have they got Chinese takeaway in Milan?’

  ‘I’m googling it,’ she replied. ‘If they haven’t, you’re not going.’

  Flying back and forth to Italy in a day probably wasn’t a big deal for a lot of people, I thought, as I took my seat in one of easyJet’s finest, but I couldn’t have been more excited. Running away to Hawaii had been impulsive and silly, and borrowing someone else’s identity was downright stupid, but this wasn’t running away, this was making a choice. This time, I was running towards something amazing, something exciting. I didn’t want to wake up one day as bitter as Edward Warren and so scared to try something new that I’d rather shaft my best friend than take a chance. And I didn’t expect it to be easy; I knew this was something I was going to have to work for and I was so up for the challenge.

  And there was something else I was ready to fight for. As the plane rolled down the runway, preparing for take-off, I pulled a small square of paper out of my handbag and promised my
self it was the last time I would read it. At least for the duration of the flight. It was the letter than Nick had given to Domenico before he left.

  He had given it to me on Friday night, unfortunately right after he had given me something strong enough to knock out an elephant, so I hadn’t been able to concentrate on it then, let alone commit it to memory. The morning after, I’d been too scared as to what it might say. Sunday, I felt the same and all the way back to London, I could feel it burning a hole in my handbag, hiding between the pages of my passport. But it wasn’t until I was on the Tube, on my way to Gatwick, that I felt brave enough to read it. It was only then that I realized there couldn’t be anything in the note that was worse than what I was imagining anyway.

  I unfolded Nick’s letter, leaning in to the window, away from the man sitting next to me. Now my decision was made, I wasn’t afraid to read it. I was going back to Milan, back to Al and Kekipi and Amy, back to my camera and all the things that I loved.

  ‘Dear Tess.’ I whispered the words as quietly as possible. Reading it was still too hard, I could hear his voice in my head and it was too much.

  Dear Tess,

  I told you I didn’t know if I could do this and it turns out that I can’t.

  I’ve been thinking about it all week but I can’t see another way. Even if you hadn’t left, I still would have been on a plane to New York in the morning, you just made it easier for me.

  I’d been fooling myself into thinking I could do it, because it’s so fun and so easy being with you but there’s nothing fun and easy about being with me. I care about you so much my bones ache. You, Tess, are spectacular and anyone would be lucky to have you in their corner but I can’t do this right now and it’s not fair. I wish I could but it just wouldn’t work so I’m walking away before I make this any harder for either of us.

  Take care of yourself.

  All my love,

  Nick

  My fingers folded the letter back along its already well-worn lines and slid it back inside my passport. I’d gone through so many emotions since the first time I’d read it that I was almost numb. I was furious that he thought he could make these decisions for me, heartbroken that he didn’t really want me, let down by the fact that he didn’t even want to try, and so sad that he was so hurt. But Al was right. Chasing after him now would mean fighting then and making up and running around kissing, laughing at other people’s dogs again, but, ultimately, the same thing would just keep happening over and over.