From London with Love

by Jemma Forte

  ‘Look, feel free to say no if you like, but I’m just going to grab a latte and then I need to run through some of my links for tomorrow. Maybe you could listen to a few and give me some feedback?’ he said, wondering why he felt so unsure of himself.

  ‘Sure,’ said Jessica, looking surprised. ‘I’d love to, though I’m not sure how much help I’ll be …’

  ‘Come on,’ said Paul, grinning. ‘And forget the latte, I can get an instant in the office.’

  ‘Fine,’ said Jessica, happily abandoning her tray again.

  Paul started walking back towards the production office and Jessica followed, smiling to herself. She felt ridiculously pleased to have been singled out, but immediately chastised herself. This was judgemental Paul, so who knew how long it would be until he next offended her. Still, they were definitely making progress and there was no getting away from it. Whenever she was around him she felt positively silly with desire. He was sexy, she admitted finally. Sexy as hell.

  Once they’d reached the office, Paul went straight to the kettle. ‘Coffee?’ he asked.

  ‘No, thanks. I’ve got some water in my bag.’

  ‘I forgot,’ replied Paul, giving her a sidelong glance. ‘Your body is your temple, isn’t it? No pints, no booze, no caffeine. Must be a riot round your house.’

  Jessica just shrugged. If he only knew half the things that went on at her house, half the people who passed through, he might just stand corrected.

  ‘Still, nice temple though,’ he said, grabbing his mug and heading for Mike’s office in the corner.

  Wondering if she’d heard him right, Jessica flushed to her roots, hating him for teasing her. Why was he saying flirty things like that? Did he know she liked him? Why did she permanently feel so wrong-footed around him?

  Checking no one else was using the room, Paul ushered her into Mike’s empty office so that they could get some peace and quiet. Once he’d shut the door behind them, Jessica suddenly felt very aware of the fact that they were alone. She sensed he did too.

  ‘It’s great not having Mike around,’ he said eventually, dispelling the awkwardness. ‘Let’s hope he’s having such a good time in Tuscany he decides to stay.’ He spread his stuff out on Mike’s desk, including his feet which he swung up somewhat disrespectfully.

  ‘Why don’t you like Mike?’ asked Jessica shyly. ‘He seems OK to me.’

  Paul looked up and Jessica’s heart and stomach seemed to flip a beat as he regarded her thoughtfully. He always gave off the impression he had double the average amount of thoughts swirling around in his brain. She wished she knew what they were.

  ‘It’s not that I don’t like him exactly, I just don’t trust him and I can’t stand it when people don’t tell you the whole truth,’ he said eventually.

  Jessica gulped. ‘Well, what can be so bad about Mike?’ she ventured timidly.

  ‘Not what, who,’ he answered mysteriously, sitting down and switching on the computer in front of him. ‘Now, I’ll read you some of these links, but no false laughing. If they’re shit, it’s better I realize now.’

  ‘OK,’ said Jessica, before curiosity got the better of her. ‘So is he having an affair or something?’

  ‘Who, Mike? No. Why would you think that?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she shrugged. ‘I guess I thought maybe … Natasha?’

  An odd expression flickered across Paul’s face. ‘No, the only shady thing about Mike, as far as I’m aware of at least, is that his boss, David Bridlington, is his father-in-law.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ said Jessica, not looking particularly thunderstruck by this revelation.

  ‘So he probably doesn’t have to worry too much about job security, does he?’ explained Paul slightly patronizingly, before thankfully changing the subject.

  ‘How does working in London compare with working in LA then?’ he asked, tapping his password out. ‘You mentioned working at Fox and in an agent’s office, but what were you doing exactly?’

  By now Jessica had had plenty of practice at answering this type of question, so was able to answer both promptly and convincingly.

  ‘I was an intern at Fox and then I assisted an agent for a while, which is why I guess I don’t feel too intimidated by the ones over here.’ Then her open and honest nature drove her to add, ‘I also worked at a gallery as a receptionist and helped plan charity events for a while.’

  Paul looked surprised. ‘Sounds like you’ve squeezed a lot in. Bit of a grafter, are you?’

  ‘Um, something like that,’ replied Jessica, inwardly wincing at the compliment she didn’t deserve. She could only imagine what Paul would make of the way every job she’d ever had had been handed to her on a plate and how the rest were figments of her imagination. Just then her cell phone rang. It was a withheld number.

  ‘Hello … ?’

  ‘Jessica, I’m so glad to have got you,’ said an unmistakeably French voice.

  Shit, it was her mom. She must have looked surprised because Paul was raising his eyebrows questioningly.

  ‘Oh, hi, um … it’s not really a good time right now.’

  ‘I’m sorry, it’s just I’ve been trying to get you for ages,’ said Angelica. ‘I left you lots of messages but when you didn’t phone back I worried that I might have upset you. I am so, so sorry we left you in such a hurry at the hotel. I think Graydon was just worried about me. I have to admit it was a shock seeing Pamela again after so many years, but I would love to try and explain to you –’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ interrupted Jessica, desperate to get her off the phone. ‘Well, thanks for calling, but can we speak later?’

  ‘OK,’ said Angelica, sounding hurt. She could tell she was being given the brush-off. ‘Well, I’m in LA at the moment but I’ll be back next week, so let’s get together then. And I’ll call you tonight at the hotel.’

  ‘No, don’t do that, call me on my cell again, because I’m staying at Pam’s,’ said Jessica, determined not to sound apologetic for this.

  ‘Oh …’ said Angelica, ‘I see. I will then because there is so much I need to talk to you –’

  ‘OK, speak soon,’ replied Jessica brightly before cutting her off. She felt guilty, but her guilt was tinged with anger. Why did her mother’s timing always manage to be so spectacularly bad? Admittedly, she should have returned her calls, but when you had no idea what to say, there was never a good time.

  ‘Everything all right?’ asked Paul lightly.

  ‘Great,’ said Jessica a bit too cheerfully.

  ‘Can you concentrate if we have music on?’ said Paul, pulling a CD out of his bag, swinging his legs back down off the desk and reaching over to Mike’s stereo.

  ‘I find it easier.’

  ‘Me too,’ said Paul, giving her a smile that made her insides lurch in an alarmingly pleasurable way.

  ‘Who’s this?’ asked Jessica as a tune with a very distinct, unusual sound started.

  ‘Er … Elbow?’ replied Paul, seemingly flabbergasted she didn’t know.

  ‘Don’t look like that,’ said Jessica, giggling at how unnecessarily appalled the expression on his face was. ‘I love music but there’s a lot of it out there, so there’s no reason why I should know the same stuff as you, is there?’

  ‘I suppose not,’ conceded Paul, resting back in Mike’s swivel chair, his arms behind his head. Judging by his relaxed pose he seemed more interested in chatting than getting down to any work. ‘So, come on then, Miss Bender. Who do you know? What’s on your iPod for instance?’

  For a very brief second Jessica considered giving a somewhat embellished answer. One that went along the lines of what she always felt people wanted to hear: the Beatles, Mozart, the Stones, followed by loads of cool bands (like Elbow), alongside the allowed amount of necessarily kitsch pop that demonstrated that you weren’t too up yourself. She didn’t bother though. Other than telling certain necessary fibs, she liked Paul enough to want him to get to know her for herself.

  ‘Well,’ sh
e replied, sitting tentatively down in the chair opposite Paul, which only added to the feeling that she was being interviewed, ‘I’ve always loved Motown music but I’d say that the majority of stuff that I spend time listening to is pure, unadulterated pop. Mostly from the eighties and nineties. I like electronic-sounding groups like the Pet Shop Boys and Erasure. Also Madonna, Michael Jackson, Duran Duran, George Michael, Abba, Stevie Wonder, Diana Ross, the Eurythmics. I don’t know really … anything … anything uplifting that puts a smile on my face. I love house music and, ooh … Coldplay and the Killers ,’ she finished passionately.

  Paul tilted his head to one side. As Jessica waited for a response she felt furious with herself for feeling so discomfited. She’d never cared in the past what anybody thought of her taste in music, so why start now? Unable to hold Paul’s inscrutable gaze any longer, Jessica found herself staring at her hands.

  Paul laughed. ‘What?’

  Jessica frowned. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘OK, it’s just that you’ve gone bright red. Am I really that much of an arsehole that you can’t even tell me what music you like?’

  ‘No,’ said Jessica, but her cheeks were obviously giving her away so she decided to elaborate. ‘It’s just that you strike me as one of those people who might judge others based upon what music they like, that’s all.’

  Paul looked faintly insulted. ‘Really? God, I know I can be a bit of a grumpy shit but I’m not that bad, am I? Besides, I don’t think you’d be saying that if you met my sister. Now she really has got dubious taste in music. Round my mum’s house it’s all Take That, Girls Aloud and Katy Perry, and that’s on a good day.’

  ‘Sounds like a girl after my own heart.’

  ‘She’s fifteen,’ added Paul, grinning.

  ‘You see,’ said Jessica, no longer embarrassed but indignant. ‘You do judge and you’ve just made out that I’m a – what’s the word you guys always use? – oh, yeah, a “twat” for liking what I like.’

  ‘I don’t mean to,’ Paul said, rocking back on his chair, happy to take the criticism and amused by Jessica’s usage of the word ‘twat’. ‘If it makes you feel any better, I’m quite prone to a bit of Neil Diamond.’

  Neil Diamond was a good peace offering and Jessica felt herself puff back down to normal. They both smiled and Jessica suddenly wondered when Paul was going to actually start reading her some of his links, but he still didn’t seem in any hurry.

  ‘In all honesty,’ he said, resting his arms on the table, ‘I far prefer people who are just truthful about what they like and dislike as opposed to saying what they think they should be saying. It just so happens though that I do have great taste.’

  ‘Oh, whatever,’ teased Jessica, narrowing her eyes, grateful that she hadn’t bothered buying any lunch because right this minute she certainly wouldn’t be able to eat a thing. Her eyes were drawn to Paul’s arms suddenly. She liked his watch. It was old, scuffed-looking, chunky and silver, and looked great on his wrist, which she liked even more. Jeez, she needed to get a grip.

  Paul had swivelled back round to the screen and was screwing his eyes up in concentration as he re-read something he’d written.

  ‘You are right though,’ said Jessica. ‘Music is definitely one way people reveal themselves as pretentious if they are. In fact, do you want to know what one of my real pet hates is?’

  Paul nodded, tapping away on the keypad at the same time.

  ‘When you go to a club and the DJ plays boring track after boring track that no one’s ever heard of. No one dances until finally he puts on one familiar tune, something that everyone knows and then the crowd can’t get to the dance floor quick enough. Suddenly the DJ’s a hero and at that point I realize that I’m not mad to love pop so much. There’s a reason it’s called “popular” music and if only people weren’t so snobby about it then going out would be a lot more fun.’

  ‘Thanks for that, Miss Bender,’ said Paul good-humouredly, spinning back round to face her. ‘And remind me to take you to Hyde Park soon. I can show you Speaker’s Corner and we can take some underground, really serious trance music with us to get you all hot under the collar. Then we’ll just let you go and you can expound to your heart’s content about the evils of non-popular music.’

  Jessica couldn’t help but laugh.

  Paul retrieved a biro that he’d stuck behind his ear and chewed on it thoughtfully. ‘So what was it that made you decide to leave the States and come to England?’

  Jessica mulled over what to say, but plumped for the truth. ‘I was having a few problems at home and then one day I realized that, apart from a handful of people, there wasn’t anything to stay for.’

  ‘No boyfriend then?’ enquired Paul casually, suddenly keen to know the answer.

  ‘No boyfriend.’

  ‘What about your dad? He must have been a bit gutted about you coming away?’

  ‘Yes,’ answered Jessica honestly, smiling as she thought of her lovely dad, who she’d always adore no matter how much he enraged her. She was already missing him dreadfully. ‘He was a bit gutted, but he knows I’ll be back … at some point.’

  ‘You’re close then?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Jessica vaguely, not comfortable with the route the conversation was suddenly taking. ‘Anyway, let’s not talk about that. I want to know more about this exquisite taste in music that you have. So what would you say is your all-time favourite track?’

  As she said this she leaned in across the desk, just as Paul did the same. Suddenly her face was close enough to his for her to really imagine what it might be like to kiss that gorgeous mouth of his. The air between them felt thick with something out of the ordinary, something that had been building up slowly over the last week or so. They were gazing at each other so intensely that when Kerry stuck her head round the door, it took them a while to even register she was there. When they did, however, they both got an enormous fright and sprang back in their chairs.

  ‘Sorry, Jess, I was just wondering where you were,’ Kerry said, not missing a thing. ‘Are you busy or can I steal you back? I need to sort out some fruit baskets for our guests and was hoping to lumber you with it. I want to show you what I got in Primark too. G-strings for a quid, which as far as I’m concerned is all you should pay for something that’s condemned to spend the rest of its life wedged up your bum crack, eh?’

  Paul made a big show of grimacing and Jessica giggled. ‘Sure,’ she said, still laughing. ‘Sorry you couldn’t find me, we were just –’ She stopped. She’d been about to say that they’d been reading links, but they hadn’t.

  ‘Actually, I dragged her in here to help me out with some links but I’ve ended up quizzing her instead about her quite spectacularly horrendous taste in music,’ said Paul.

  Kerry looked from him back to her assistant and smiled to herself. It looked like Jessica was the latest victim to fall for the incredibly complicated but utterly lovely Paul, although judging by his dappy expression the feeling was perhaps mutual.

  ‘Jess,’ he was saying now, a soppy grin plastered across his face, ‘has been very helpful but maybe too honest for her own good. She likes George Michael, but there you go.’

  ‘I’d take George over Elbow any day of the week,’ said Jessica, looking away coyly.

  ‘ “Jess” is it now?’ Kerry teased.

  Hearing the insinuation in her voice, Paul instantly reverted back to type. It was like flicking a switch. ‘Anyway,’ he said, almost grumpily. ‘Bugger off now, you two, I need to get on.’

  And, just like that, he burst the bubble. Jessica’s face fell. What was she thinking anyway? It was a good thing Kerry had come in when she had, she decided. As far as she was concerned, Paul Fletcher could only spell trouble for her in one way or another. Feeling rather foolish, she stood up, but Kerry, who felt bad for teasing, decided to be kind.

  ‘By the way,’ she said casually, ‘Jess is coming clubbing with us this Saturday, Paul, and I think a few others are coming from the off
ice. You should come. Jessica’s even bringing her delightful mate Veruca Salt with her, who she assures us will be on her best behaviour, so don’t let that put you off.’

  Paul didn’t look up, busy now on the previously ignored links, but after a second or so he mumbled distractedly, ‘Sounds OK, why not?’

  Jessica was already halfway out the door by now but, try as she might, she couldn’t suppress the huge beam that instantly appeared. Kerry grinned, though not in over-sensitive Paul’s direction. Paul never, ever went clubbing with them so it looked like her hunch was right after all, which she was genuinely pleased about, although it was also bloody typical. If only she could find what she was searching for under her very nose in this office. Some people really did have it far too easy.

  20

  Saturday arrived and while Jessica was getting ready Angelica rang yet again.

  ‘Mom, hi,’ said Jessica, balancing the phone under her ear while she tried to put on her eyeliner.

  ‘Hello, I’m so glad to finally get hold of you.’

  ‘I know, I’m sorry. I’ve just been so busy with work and everything. In fact, I hate to do this but I’m kinda busy right now too. I’m going out with people from work tonight and I’m running late so …’

  ‘OK, but before you cut me off again,’ said Angelica, her tone unusually stern, ‘can we at least put something in the diary? I’m free on Monday. Shall we meet then? Maybe go for something to eat? I really want to fit it in because then I have to go away again, probably for some time, maybe even a couple of months for –’

  ‘Great,’ said Jessica, more concerned about the fact she’d just jabbed herself in the eye with her mascara wand. ‘Let’s catch up properly then, OK? Actually, Mom, I have to go – that’s the doorbell, which means Dulcie’s here. I’ll see you next week.’

  She rang off, took one last look in the mirror, grabbed her bag and thundered down the stairs, knowing she’d given her mother slightly short shrift. Still, maybe she’d think a bit harder the next time her boyfriend bullied her into doing something she didn’t want to do. This thought didn’t extinguish her guilt entirely though. She knew she should have found the time to return one of her many recent calls, but these days she was just so busy all the time and preoccupied. Still, maybe now Angelica would know how it felt.