by Paige Toon
‘What’s wrong?’ I ask.
He runs his hands through his hair and stares at me, before dejectedly slumping down in the black Eames chair beside my desk.
I swivel my chair around to face him. He leans forward and rests his forearms on his thighs, staring up at me.
‘I heard from my dad last week,’ he says.
‘What?’ Now he’s got his reaction. ‘I thought your dad was dead?’
‘No,’ he says. ‘He lives in Essex.’
I cross my legs and fold my arms across my chest. ‘What did he say?’
Johnny shrugs and looks down. I wait, patiently. I’m not playing this game. If he wants to tell me, he can tell me.
He looks edgy. ‘He’s found a woman. Wants to get married.’
‘Oh, right,’ I say, intrigued.
‘Wants more money,’ he adds, a touch bitterly.
‘Hmm…Are you going to give it to him?’
‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Not like I can’t spare it, is it?’
I nod. ‘True. Does he ask for money a lot?’
He leans back in his seat and puts one foot up on his other knee. ‘He doesn’t have to. He’s got a monthly allowance. Got his house.’
‘Which you bought for him?’
‘Yep.’
Considering his dad is supposed to be a no-good so-and-so, I would have thought Johnny would want nothing to do with him.
‘You seem surprised,’ he says.
‘I am surprised,’ I tell him.
‘Why?’
I take a deep breath. ‘I can’t work you out, Johnny Jefferson. You’re so…transient.’
He raises one eyebrow at me. ‘I’ve never been called that before.’
I say nothing, steadily meeting his gaze.
He reaches over and strokes my leg. I flinch.
‘Don’t do that,’ I warn him.
He looks at me, forlornly. ‘I’m sorry, Meg.’
Now I’m lost for words.
‘Christian was right, you know,’ he continues.
‘Right about what?’ I ask, warily.
He leans in again and takes my hand. I’m so stunned about his apology that I let him.
‘I don’t want you to leave.’ Adrenalin pumps through my veins. ‘Come here.’ He tries to pull me to him, but I shake my hand free.
‘No, Johnny. No!’
He strokes my leg again, strokes my arm, strokes my cheek.
‘Stop it,’ I say, with less ferocity.
‘I need you,’ he says. His eyes are fixated on my lips.
I hold my breath, unable to resist any longer as he leans in to kiss me.
‘Come upstairs,’ he says, pulling me to my feet.
Afterwards, as I lie in his arms, and he gently runs his rough fingers across my naked back, I try not to think of what went on in this bed just a few days ago. I prop myself up on my elbows and smile at him.
I care about you, Johnny Jefferson. However hard you make it for me.
‘I need you too, you know,’ I tell him.
Something comes over his face. It’s like a mask.
‘What’s wrong?’ I frown at him.
‘Nothing.’ He looks annoyed. ‘I should probably get ready,’ he says, climbing out of bed.
‘Ready for what?’ I’m confused.
‘The showcase?’
‘Oh. Are you still going?’
‘Of course.’ He walks towards his en-suite. ‘Don’t bother with Davey. I’ll take the bike.’
I don’t bother asking if he’ll also take me. I know that look. I’m being pushed away again and the realisation fills me with grief.
I don’t hear him come home that night. Full of worry, I mention it to Samuel.
‘He must be in bed,’ he says. ‘He rocked up at about two o’clock in the morning.’
‘Did he?’ I’m amazed.
He was quiet when he returned, then. Maybe it will be alright after all. I go into the office and carry on with my work. At about eleven o’clock, I hear footsteps outside the office, heading towards the kitchen.
There he is, I think to myself. When he doesn’t come to see me after a few minutes, I decide to go and find him.
As I approach the kitchen, everything starts to feel like it’s moving in slow motion. Johnny is not in the kitchen, but a girl is. And I recognise her voice instantly.
I arrive at the door to see Rosa put two mugs of coffee on the table.
‘Thanks,’ Lola says, picking up both mugs and turning to see me. She starts, spilling a little coffee. She’s wearing one of Johnny’s shirts. It comes down to her thighs.
‘Meg!’ She laughs. ‘I didn’t see you there. Sorry, Rosa,’ she apologises, as Rosa gets to her knees with a sponge.
‘No harm done,’ Rosa says.
Lola grins at me, sheepishly. ‘How are you? You didn’t make the showcase last night?’
‘No,’ I say, shortly.
‘Don’t worry, you didn’t miss much.’ She smiles.
I don’t smile back.
‘Well, okay, then,’ she says, going to move past me with the coffees. ‘I’m just going to take this up to him.’
I step aside for her.
‘Do you want me to call a car for you?’ I finally find my voice. I want her out of here.
‘No, thanks,’ she replies, gratefully. ‘Johnny said he’d give me a ride. If I can stomach it again.’ She rolls her eyes at me good-naturedly and starts to walk towards the stairs. ‘Jeez, he rides that bike fast, doesn’t he?’ She’s not really expecting an answer. ‘Didn’t matter when I’d had a few, but today it could be a different story. Anyway, see you later,’ she calls over her shoulder, before momentarily turning her lips down when I don’t respond. I watch her reach the top of the stairs and try to open Johnny’s bedroom door with her hands full. A second later the door opens. I hear Johnny chuckle as she goes inside.
I glance behind to see Rosa quietly watching me. I rush into the office and close the door.
Not her. Anyone but her. She’s his perfect match. She’s so cool, so talented. She doesn’t take any crap from him. He respects her.
I sit there in a daze for hours, unable to work. At three o’clock, there’s a knock on the door. I look up as it opens; it’s Rosa.
‘I’ve got to head off early today,’ she says.
I nod, blankly.
‘Are you okay, honey?’ Her tone is sympathetic.
I don’t speak.
She comes into the room and closes the door behind her. I watch as she makes her way to my desk.
‘Come here.’ She motions for me to get up. I do as she says and she engulfs me in a warm, cuddly hug.
Suddenly I miss my mum. I miss Bess. I miss everyone and everything about my home, my real home. I try to stifle the tears, but they come anyway.
‘There, there,’ she says. ‘It’s okay.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I sob.
‘Don’t you say sorry to me!’ she admonishes me.
She doesn’t tell me it’s my own fault. She doesn’t tell me that she warned me. She would have witnessed this exact same scenario with Paola, and she saw it coming a mile off, but she lets me cry, and she does her best to comfort me. Eventually, she breaks away.
‘I do have to go, honey. It’s my daughter’s school play tonight.’
‘Of course.’ I try to smile at her. ‘Wish her good luck from me.’
‘I will.’
I don’t see Johnny that night. I’m sure he’s stayed at Lola’s, and it kills me to sit in that big, lonely house on a Friday night and imagine what my friends are getting up to in London.
The next day I hear him come home, but I stay up in my room for hours, thinking. Eventually I go downstairs.
I look out of the glass, the city of LA sprawled out before me in the hazy afternoon sunshine. But I can’t appreciate the view now. Johnny is sitting on one of the sunloungers. His dirty blond hair is partly obscuring his face, but I can see the lit cigarette dangling from his mouth, th
e bottle of whisky by his side. He’s playing his guitar, and I watch as the muscles in his tattooed arms flex with the movement. I feel like there are invisible strings coming out of my stomach, close to my heart. They are attached to him. Wherever he is, I am pulled. I try to cut the strings, but they reconnect themselves to him. Oh God, it hurts so much.
I need to get out of here.
Tears prick my eyes as I walk determinedly into the office. I call Johnny’s travel agent and book myself a ticket on the next available flight to London. Then I ring Davey and ask him to collect me at three. My flight isn’t until this evening, but I’ll wait at the airport. Anything is better than waiting here. And I know there’s a risk of changing my mind if I stay for much longer.
I collect my suitcase from the store cupboard in the laundry and carry it up the stairs. I pull my clothes out of the wardrobes, barely bothering to fold them before laying them in the case. My eye catches the toy sheep that Johnny bought me in the Dales. It sits on a shelf in the open wardrobe, watching me as I pack up my belongings. When my case is full, I stand and stare at the toy.
No, I decide, and bend down to zip up my case. It can stay where it is. I imagine Johnny walking into my room and opening the wardrobe, his heart sinking as he realises I’ve gone.
The truth is, Rosa or Sandy the maid will probably find it and toss it in the bin, but I like my scenario best.
I scribble out a short note for Rosa, struggling to think of what to say.
I have to go. I’m so sorry, but I think you know why. I did enjoy working with you and I will miss you. I wish you and your family all the best. Please give my love to Lewis, Samuel, Ted and Sandy…
I leave it in the kitchen, behind the toaster. Johnny won’t see it there, but Rosa is sure to on Monday.
Suitcase by my side, I glance out of the window. Johnny is no longer on the sunlounger. I look around, but I can’t see him. Maybe it’s for the best.
The buzzer goes. It’s time.
As Davey drives me through the gates, a familiar green truck pulls up.
Santiago! I forgot about Santiago.
‘Hold on!’ I tell Davey, and jump out of the car.
‘Hey, Meg,’ Santiago says.
‘Santiago, I’m leaving.’
‘Leaving? Why?’ he asks, shocked.
‘It just hasn’t worked out,’ I tell him.
‘Man, I’m so sorry. Who am I going to chat to on Saturdays, now?’
‘You’ll just have to get on with your work instead.’ I grin and he grins back at me.
I grab a pen from his dashboard and scribble my Hotmail address on a piece of old cardboard. His truck is full of junk food wrappers. ‘Email me!’ I hand him the scrap.
‘I don’t have an email address,’ he says, regretfully, looking down at it.
‘No way?’
He shrugs.
I laugh. ‘They are free, you know?’
‘Okay, I’ll get one,’ he says, but instinct tells me we won’t stay in touch.
Suddenly I hear a roar come from behind the gates. I can barely breathe as Johnny appears on his bike, black metal glinting in the bright sunlight.
‘See ya round.’ Santiago raises one eyebrow at me, then glances at Johnny, before driving through the open gates.
Johnny flips his visor up. ‘Where are you going?’
‘I’m leaving, Johnny.’ I try to keep my voice steady.
‘What, just like that?’
‘Just like that.’
We stare at each other for a moment, neither of us speaking. I’m vaguely aware of Davey waiting in the car behind me.
Johnny nods, curtly. ‘Okay, then.’
He flips down his visor and revs up the engine, wheel spinning off down the road, leaving a trail of dust in his wake.
I don’t know what I expected. For him to stop me from leaving, beg me to stay, tell me he made a mistake?
But no, in the end he’s the one who cuts the strings.
Later, on the plane, I stare out of the window, trying not to cry. I only lasted six months in this job–even less than Paola–and now I’m going home a failure.
Sadness presses into me, devastatingly, silently. I fold my arms across my chest and squeeze, tightly, trying to dispel the pain. It doesn’t work. I feel like it’s crushing me, and no one can help me release the pressure. I can’t talk about what happened with Johnny to anyone. Apart from him, Christian is the only person who knows about us, and that makes me feel unbearably, excruciatingly alone.
Chapter 30
‘Mum says you lost your job.’
‘I didn’t lose my job, I quit,’ I patiently explain to my sister down the phone.
I’m sitting on the sofa at Bess’s place. It’s been my bed for the last month. Serena was away for the first two weeks, but she’s back now, and it’s kind of crowded. I need to find somewhere else to live, but I just can’t get motivated yet.
After watching daytime TV and working my way through several bags of Haribo Kiddies’ Mix, I finally got off my arse a week ago and found a job. My first port of call was Marie, my old boss. She spent the first couple of minutes going on and on and on about her brilliant new PA, which did nothing for my self-esteem, I have to tell you. When I finally got a word in edgeways to inform her I was out of work, it rendered her speechless with guilt.
‘Do you know what?’ she said finally, trying to be helpful. ‘I’ve just finished a job for the owner of a private members’ club in Soho. He said he was looking for staff. I can give you his number, if you like.’
Marie thought he meant clerical staff, but when he told me he needed waitresses, I thought, ‘Why the hell not?’ I’m fed up with looking after one person all the time. Okay, so with waitressing, you’re looking after a whole bunch of people, but at least it’s not personal. They come, they tip and they leave, and that’s just the way I like it.
‘I can’t believe you never called me!’ Susan complains.
‘Well, you never called me, either,’ I tell her.
‘I didn’t want to bother you. Mum always said you were so busy.’
‘I was busy,’ I admit. ‘Anyway, I can talk now. What have you been up to?’
‘Why did you lose your job?’ she asks, going back to Johnny.
‘It just didn’t work out,’ I say.
‘Come on, tell me what happened…’
‘You know what, Susan, I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to. I signed a confidentiality clause.’
Big mistake. Now she thinks something did happen and spends the next few minutes trying to get it out of me.
‘Tony’s angry you never got him a signed album,’ she says, eventually, referring to her annoying husband.
‘I didn’t know Tony wanted a signed album.’ I sigh.
‘You would have done if you’d called…’
Here we go again. Oh, it’s great to be home.
I haven’t heard anything about Johnny in the press. He’s been surprisingly quiet. Probably holed up at home having sex with Lola. I shudder at the thought.
It was difficult not being able to come clean to Bess. She was a little cold with me at first. She’s still distant, to be honest. I don’t know how we’ll ever get around that.
I hang up finally and slump back on the sofa, pointing the remote control at the telly to turn the sound up. The living room is a mess. It isn’t easy living out of a suitcase for this amount of time. I’m sure I must be annoying Serena now, but she’s got a guilt complex about whether or not she should move out and let me have my old room back. I’m not sure that I want that. I do need to get my own place. I’ve even thought about buying a studio or something–I saved up a decent chunk from working with Johnny which would do as a deposit–but I don’t know. I might go travelling. I haven’t made up my mind yet.
Plenty of celebrities come into the members’ club where I work. It’s odd being on the other side, looking at them and knowing all about the worlds in which they live.
I’m at wor
k at the moment, and am just returning to a table with an expensive bottle of red wine. There are two men dining together, one older, one younger. I see the older man surreptitiously slide a small clear plastic packet across the table to the younger guy, who I recognise as a presenter from a children’s TV show. I deliver their wine, then go and find my manager. We have a strict ‘No Drugs’ policy here.
‘Excuse me!’ I turn at the sound of an American accent. ‘Can we get a bottle of water, please?’
I try not to look surprised to see Isla Montagne sitting at the table in front of me, next to Will Trepper, the cool British actor she moved here to be with.
‘Sure. Still or sparkling?’ I ask.
‘Still.’ She looks at me through narrowed eyes. I ignore her and turn away.
‘I recognise you,’ she says a short while later, when I bring her water.
‘Do you?’ I act innocent.
‘Yes. Did I know you in LA?’
‘No,’ I say.
‘Hmm. I’m sure I’ve seen you somewhere.’
I pour the water and take their order. When I return later with their food, she bolts upright.
‘Johnny Jefferson’s PA! That’s it, isn’t it?’
I glance around to make sure no one heard her. In the clear, I nod.
She leans back in her seat, looking pleased with herself. ‘I knew it! What are you doing working here?’ she asks, snobbily giving my black and white uniform the once-over.
‘I felt like a change.’
A customer sitting a few tables away indicates that he wants the bill. Relieved, I excuse myself and get back to work.
Later, when the club has emptied out and I’m tidying up for the night, Isla calls me over again to her table. She and Will have been huddled up in a corner couch for the last couple of hours.
‘I need a PA, if you’re interested…’
‘Um, thank you, but I wasn’t very good at it.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because Charlie was jealous of you.’ She laughs a tinkling laugh.
Now I’m curious. ‘Whatever happened to Charlie?’
‘She went to New York to look after her mother for a bit.’
‘Her stepmother?’ Poor Charlie, having to look after that evil alcoholic.