by Blake, Rosie
‘Alright, babe?’ Chris said, smiling at me over the table. ‘We best get going to this New Year’s Eve Party eh?’
‘Hmm …’ I tipsily dragged my gaze back to him. ‘Oh … of course, of course.’
My eyes flicked back without a thought. James had angled his chair so that I could just see him in profile.
My mind was a blur of confusion. Should I go over to James and explain? But explain what? That he was the reason I was here? That I’d agreed to go out with Chris because of the agency? I didn’t really need to explain, but something in the way he’d just looked at me had made me want to reassure him that there was nothing going on between me and Chris, at all. But as I unsteadily pushed back my chair with a screech and Chris steered me between the tables towards the exit, I realised I couldn’t.
Maybe James hadn’t actually seen me. Maybe he had been looking over my shoulder at another diner. And anyway, why did it matter that he’d seen me? Why was I worrying? Thalia was probably joining him later. We plunged outside, the cold bringing me to a standstill. I glanced back into the restaurant, searching for his table.
‘Nic, come on,’ Chris called brightly.
‘I’m coming, so sorry,’ I said, following him into the taxi.
Standing under the neon disco lights, bopping uncertainly to ‘Karma Chameleon’ and tugging self-consciously on my new ever-so-short-dress, I screamed back at the man standing opposite me. ‘AN AGENCY,’ I repeated.
I’d assumed his question was in some way work-related, but the chances of me hearing anything over the chorus ‘Red, gold and green, red, gold and green’ was frankly impossible.
He mouthed something else at me and I caught the word ‘Bar’ and nodded frantically. A drink. That would help.
The theme was ‘Celebrities’ and this New Year’s Eve Party was as ‘rocking’ as Chris had predicted. The music was blaring and the guests were drinking and laughing. There were a thousand glitzy sequinned ladies, many besuited men, one tennis player, one Elvis and two girls in Kate Middleton masks. Chris had been plying me with compliments and champagne cocktails in between dashing off to talk to newly arrived guests. There were moments where it felt good to be in the centre of things for once, to be out partying normally, without a care. And I needed to get on with Chris. We needed him to stay with the business. James’ stressed face swum into view, his ruffled hair, the deepening lines around his eyes after late nights spent buttering up future clients. Chris brought in the money and this date was a small sacrifice to keep him sweet.
He swanned over now, very much the man at the centre of things. One gorgeous blonde in a pair of teeny shorts winked at him as he passed her. He patted her bottom. I smiled nervously at him and bobbed a little more quickly to the music: an effort to show him I was getting into the spirit of things.
I was certainly getting into the spirits as the man who’d been shouting at me returned with another vodka and lime.
‘THANKS!’ I screeched, nodding at him. I sucked on the straw, gazing around the room at the other revellers, nodding my head to the beat and trying not to feel too silly and out of place. This is good for me, character building, character building, have to get out there, have to get out there. I chanted in my head. Chris put an arm around my waist and introduced me to his friend. ‘This is Nicola, isn’t she beautiful?’ he commented.
I knew I should have been outraged at being patronised, paraded in front of his friend like his show pony, but I felt absurdly flattered. I shook his friend’s hand, thanked him again for my drink and decided to relax. I imagined Caroline running into the place to give me a double thumbs up, and smiled at the thought. Parties were great, I mused. You could run away from awkward people, you could leave at a moment’s notice, and most importantly of all you could become anyone as no one really knew you. This last thought brought on a rush of liberated feelings. I was the mysterious lady on Chris’s arm. I was dressed to kill. I was having a good time.
So the evening went on, and after yet another loo visit, I realised I was going to have to strike up conversation with another stranger because Chris was nowhere to be seen. I eyed the semicircle of people at my table and smiled brightly at them. Most just ignored me and one girl with enormous chandelier earrings looked positively startled by my attempt. Raising an eyebrow, she turned to her friend sitting next to her and mentioned something about some lesbian who was around. I couldn’t hear the detail, but for some reason the friend was looking right back at me, smirking. It was at that moment a glass came crashing down on the table next to me. Liquid spilled over the sides of the table and splattered my new dress. A man in an Al Capone style pinstripe suit swayed precariously, then turned to face me, taking a couple of seconds too long to focus on my face.
‘This ish my seat where I left it.’
‘Um … yes. Well, hello.’
‘You’re gooorgeous, haven’t seen you here before. I’m Seb,’ he held out his hand then slipped and used it to prop himself up on the table.
‘I’m Nicola,’ I said, willing to overlook the handshake debacle in exchange for someone to talk to.
‘What did you say your name was?’ he slurred, not quite able to focus entirely on my face, although managing to ogle my boobs quite successfully.
‘Um … Nicola,’ I said, realising that my glass was empty again.
‘Would you like a drink, Seb?’ I asked, spotting Chris across the room, talking to a girl in a pink top and sky-high heels.
‘Alright, Nikki. But I’m buying,’ he said, producing an embarrassing number of notes from a pocket.
‘Nicola …’ I corrected.
‘Erica. I know you said,’ he called after me as I left.
I returned moments later with the drinks. Seb hadn’t moved an inch. I sat back down.
‘So, Anoushka, what do you do?’ he said, sniffing a little.
‘Well, I work for an actors’ agency in town,’ I replied, sipping my drink.
Seb slurped at his beer.
‘Interested in acting are you? I work in PR, give me a call and I can set you up with the right people. It’s just a matter of image. You know, Kristen—’
‘—I’m Nicola.’ I patted him on the arm like he was a small child.
‘No, you know Kristen?’
‘Kristen?’ I queried.
‘Stewart,’ he finished.
‘Oh right, of course, Kristen,’ I nodded, trying to keep up.
‘Yeah, she was a total nobody before she met me and then, whoosh, she went straight to the top, didn’t she? Spoke to her last week actually and she said, “Seb. Thank you. You’ve helped me so much.”’
‘Oh, right. That’s good to hear.’ I gulped the rest of my drink.
‘So, babe, just get in touch whenever and we’ll sort you out.’
‘Oh, okay, thanks. I will. Definitely.’
After a few more drinks, Seb turned into a surprisingly amusing guy. I was fairly sure we were enjoying some scintillating conversation. I had a sneaking suspicion we might become best friends. I yanked him on to the dance floor. It might have been down to childhood dance lessons or it might have been the alcohol kicking in, but either way, I suddenly realised I was one of the best dancers in Bristol. I had a talent. A BGT sort-of talent. I was skilful, everything on the beat, moves I didn’t even know I had.
I spent the rest of the night snaking around various people on the dance floor. Lucky things. Soon, Chris was on the dance floor (no doubt tempted by my moves) and wrapped himself around me, whispering stuff in my ear. I reckoned we looked good together, writhing around to the beats. I got drink after drink and danced and drank and partied and laughed and drank and danced. This was my new life, the new Nicola.
Then, suddenly, it was the New Year and I was in a SUPER FUN MOOD and I was hugging Chris and joining in the countdown to midnight. Seb had sloped off, which was a shame as we were best friends, but Chris and I had danced a lot together and he WAS nice, I thought.
‘Six, five, four, three, t
wo, one … HAPPY NEW YEAR.’
In the midst of all the dancing and embracing, Chris turned to kiss me full on the lips.
‘I hope it’s a happy new year for you,’ he said, smiling at me with perfectly straight, white teeth. The moment was only half ruined by a brunette in a figure-hugging midi-dress grabbing him to wish him a Happy New Year too. With her tongue. But before I could react to anything much, I was whisked off my feet by an over-exuberant man in a kilt (he’d come as Mel Gibson) to dance the new year in and, suddenly, I didn’t care two jots who kissed who or where. I didn’t need to worry about it all. Mel was an excellent dancer too. There were cocktails and champagne, and Chris, and people laughing. Everything was good.
I can’t believe what I’m doing. Chris was right behind me, his hands around my waist, his breath on my neck. He mumbled something about flowers, or super powers, it was hard to tell. What was I up to? This was so unlike me. Dazedly, I headed up to the first-floor landing, Chris still very much in tow. He nearly pulled my dress off on the way up the stairs, and not in a sexy way. He tripped and saved himself by grabbing hold of me. I heard a tearing sound and realised that some part of my blue dress might not have made it.
I got to my door and put the key in. It turned but didn’t open. I stared at it, confused, then tried again. Same thing. Then I noticed the frosted window to the side of the door was lit up, the lights were on. That wasn’t right. I hadn’t left that light on.
I pulled up sharply. ‘Oh my God, shhh!’ I hissed, inexplicably crouching down on the carpet.
Chris automatically did the same, arms wide, head swivelling left to right.
‘Ish this a game?’ he asked, his voice slurred. He started giggling.
‘Shhh,’ I hushed, frantically reaching to put my hand over his mouth and ending up hitting his shoulder, which knocked him backwards onto the floor where he looked like a beetle, his legs still crooked and pointing upwards. Then I started giggling. He rolled on to his side and looked at me, his eyes crossing as he tried to focus, cheek against the carpet, face squashed flat.
I stopped laughing. ‘It’s a burglar,’ I explained, mouthing the words and pointing at the window. ‘I left the lights off.’
Chris craned his neck to look up at the frosted glass. He didn’t sit up.
‘What are we going to do?’ he whispered.
‘He might still be in there,’ I said fearfully. ‘He’s done something to the door so I can’t get in. Oh my God. He might still be in there.’
‘Let’sh catch him,’ Chris said, sitting bolt upright and clapping his hands like a small boy.
‘The key doesn’t work, I can’t get in,’ I explained.
‘I’ll break in, itsh easy,’ he whispered, getting up and looking at the door. I joined him, momentarily swaying. Then, clutching his arm, I nodded.
‘Do it,’ I whispered.
He took his wallet out and fumbled around for a card.
‘I’ve sheen them do this in films all the time,’ he whispered confidently, taking time to find the edge of the door. He slid the card down in the gap between the door and the frame, but nothing happened. He tried again, but still nothing happened. I turned away in panic, convinced the burglar would hear us and come and get us with a knife or a gun or something (I’d seen lots of films too). Then, with no prior warning, Chris took a run up, put his shoulder down and smashed through the door. There was a sickening thud as the door came away and Chris staggered in, with me right behind. The living room lights were on.
‘Itsh empty,’ he announced, spinning round to look at me.
‘Shhhh,’ I murmured, gesturing over his shoulder. ‘He might still be here.’
I stumbled across the room.
There was a mound on the sofa. The burglar was sleeping? No. But then the burglar started yelling. ‘Oh my God! There’s a man in the room! A MAN IN THE ROOM, oh my God.’
It was my brother, not a burglar. I lurched towards him, arms outstretched.
‘It’s me! Don’t worry! I thought you were a burglar, Mark, but it’sh you, it’sh not a burglar it’sh just you, yes, you …’ I slurred, going for a hug.
‘He’sh my brother, but not a burglar,’ I explained to Chris, whilst comforting a terrified Mark. ‘We’re safe. Everyone is safe.’
The morning light bore down on my eyelids, and a stagnant smell washed over my face. Horrible, horrible morning, and someone was BREATHING on me. I groaned, opened one eye and tried to push the breather away from me. Oh God. Chris. God, why was he here? What the hell was I doing lying next to him? Did something happen last night? I still couldn’t move. Another wave of nausea washed over me, my mind a haze of shadowy memories.
I vaguely remembered ordering shots at the bar, but after that, I recalled nothing. I felt like something bad had happened but couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Had I done something with Chris? I opened the other eye and noted I was still wearing all my clothes. My dress had twisted round so that one lone breast was poking out, but I didn’t have the energy to move. Then my brother appeared in the doorway of my bedroom.
‘Mark, what the fuck?’ I said, hastily sitting up and trying to cover up the lone breast.
Then I threw up, only just making it to the bathroom in time. When I got back, Mark had disappeared and I flopped back onto the bed. My movements woke Chris. Great. He mumbled something, then groggily opened his eyes. Then closed them. Then opened them really, really wide. Then sat up and shot off the bed, tottered across the room and landed in the armchair opposite me.
‘Shit, Nicola, I mean, hi, morning, I mean …’ Then he gave up and put his head in his hands. ‘My wife is going to kill me.’
I closed my eyes.
Oh God.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Single girl WLTM, unmarried man for quiet nights in.
Contact: Box No. 49990
Before Christmas, James had asked, okay begged, Caroline and I to pop into the office on New Year’s Day to deal with an urgent casting the following week. So, after a restorative shower and half a tube of toothpaste I’d dragged my carcass to work where I was now being interrogated by Caroline.
‘Chris is married?’ she’d repeated in shocked tones after worming the whole sorry story out of me.
‘Yes.’
‘You know, I think I knew that actually,’ said Caroline, sipping at a milkshake.
I gaped at her. ‘Something that you could have mentioned before, perhaps?’ I suggested.
‘Well, I didn’t know you were going to go out with him, did I? Anyway, what, Nicola, did you expect of that man? You know I dislike him utterly. Come on, you can’t be that surprised? You know he’s an arrogant, no-good—’
‘—Caroline, will you stop talking about me every time I leave the office,’ said James, emerging in the doorway.
‘Ha, ha, ha,’ she chuckled as he handed us both tea.
I looked away, not wanting to catch his eye, my face hot as I remembered his surprised expression at the restaurant last night.
‘So, who are you ripping to pieces only one day into the New Year?’
‘No one,’ I said quickly, shooting a warning look in Caroline’s direction.
‘No one,’ she repeated, with a winning smile.
‘Hmm … Well, if either of you need me I will be in my office putting up my arrogant, no-good feet and lounging about, of course.’
I watched as he disappeared into his office. He was obviously not going to mention seeing me last night. Maybe he hadn’t seen me after all? Maybe he had just been looking over my shoulder at someone else. I really hoped so.
I didn’t tell Caroline about seeing James. For some reason, I didn’t want to talk to her about it.
Caroline flicked through one of the filing cabinets, emerging with a CV. ‘It’s Chris’s file,’ she said, scanning the details.
‘Shh.’ I scolded, glancing at the door to James’ office.
‘Oh look … married,’ she pointed out helpfully.
I gave h
er a stony glare.
‘Ah, right,’ she said, going back to searching his details. ‘Hmm, it’s as I expected.’ She nodded solemnly and put the file back in the cabinet, but not before bending one of Chris’s photos and leaving his face horribly creased.
‘What is what you expected?’
‘His birthday,’ she announced. ‘It’s as I expected.’
‘His birthday …?’
‘It’s in June,’ she stressed, as if that explained everything perfectly.
‘June?’
‘Gemini,’ she shrugged, smiling widely. ‘It explains everything. Chris is a typical Gemini. Typical’
‘Er … this isn’t meant to be amusing,’ I tutted, annoyed that my life appeared to be an astrological comedy of errors.
‘It does explain it, though,’ Caroline continued. ‘Gemini, the twins, are known to be two-faced, prone to leading a double life. They’re interested in everything but can’t focus on one thing. Like Trevor in Brookside who cheated on his wife.’
‘But Chris is nothing like Trevor.’
‘No …’ she mused. ‘But perhaps his moon sign is different?’
‘Moon what?’
‘Moon sign?’
‘Yes, the sign the moon is in when you are born.’
I looked at her blankly.
‘Come on, Nic, don’t you read anything? You know you should really take an interest in this stuff. It is fascinating and could save you a lot of trouble. For instance, you’re a Virgo, so you’d want to find another Earth sign.’
‘Like Scorpio?’ I said, remembering the ex.
‘NOT Scorpio,’ she said, halting me with a hand. ‘Honestly, Nic. Scorpio is a water sign, like Pisces and Cancer. Scorpio.’
I was really fed up. ‘Aquarians are the water-bearers, so I should avoid them, then?’ I asked, confused.