The Importance of Being Married: A Novel

by Gemma Townley

  “You ready?” It was 6 PM Friday on the dot; Anthony was standing over me, a hopeful grin playing on his lips.

  “Sure.” I smiled. “Just give me a moment to finish some stuff off. See you by the door in five minutes?”

  Anthony frowned, then shrugged reluctantly. “Five minutes,” he said.

  Quickly I turned back to my computer and giggled at the Facebook entry Helen had mocked up for me. Wild Child, she’d called me. The only photograph was of a pair of very high heels. Already I’d had fifty friend requests.

  I clicked on one of my messages. Dan Kelly. Hi, Wild Child. Would love to get to know you. Dig the shoes.

  Would love to get to know me. Someone called Dan would love to get to know me. Sure, all he had to go on was a moniker and a picture of some shoes, but that wasn’t important. What was important was that I was in demand. I was popular. I was…

  “Facebook? Are you serious?” I turned around hurriedly to see Max peering over my shoulder. “Tell me this is for research purposes, please.”

  I reddened. Max and I had often discussed the futility of networking sites like Facebook; we’d rolled our eyes at the time people wasted on them.

  “Oh, yes, I mean—” I started, trying to work out a way to justify the screen in front of me.

  “Anyone who’s got time to waste hanging out with virtual friends frankly doesn’t deserve to have a job,” Max continued, interrupting me. “And who on earth is Wild Child? I mean, what kind of a stupid name is that? If she was really wild, do you think she’d have time to hang about in front of her computer?” He shook his head, a wry smile on his face. My eyes narrowed.

  “Actually, Wild Child is quite popular,” I said stiffly. “And you only hate Facebook because you wouldn’t have any friends on there if you joined.” I knew it was harsh; I knew I was being prickly. But I was sick of Max’s constant superiority, his I’m-the-only-one-who-really-works-around-here act. He was so serious all the time, so sure that he was right about everything. He was the only one in the office who hadn’t been impressed by all my flowers and cupcakes, the only one who interrupted my stories about Sean to ask how I was getting on with Project Handbag. Like there weren’t more important things than private bank investment funds for women.

  “Ouch,” Max said, raising an eyebrow. “Well, maybe you’re right. But frankly I think that real friends are worth rather more than Internet ones. Or is reality not something you’re interested in these days, Jess?”

  His eyes met mine and I felt uncomfortable suddenly. What did he mean? Did he know something? Why did he always have to be so difficult?

  “Jess, five minutes has been and gone. Are you coming to dinner or do I have to drag you there?”

  Anthony was marching toward me; with relief, I stood up and turned off my computer. “No, you don’t have to drag me,” I said, shooting a little look at Max. “If there are real drinks and real food on offer, I’m ready to go right now.”

  “Drinks and dinner,” Max said archly. “Sounds very nice.” He looked at Anthony. “And is this going to be charged to Chester’s account, too, or is this one strictly pleasure?”

  Anthony flinched slightly, then rolled his eyes. “Max, haven’t you got accounts to scrutinize or something?” he asked, holding out his arm to me in a flourish. “Jess and I are late for a very important engagement.”

  “Indeed,” Max said, walking away. “Indeed.”

  “Sorry about that,” Anthony said as we made our way out of the building. “Max is so anal sometimes. So fixated by the details that he can’t see the big picture.”

  “I know,” I said, shaking my head.

  “The guy really needs to loosen up,” Anthony continued. “I mean, it’s as if he doesn’t have any life outside the office. He’s a mate, but sometimes I just want to shake him and tell him what a loser he’s becoming.”

  “Right,” I said firmly. Loser. For spending too much time in the office. Totally different from me, then.

  “Like you and me,” Anthony said, on a roll now. “We know how to have fun, don’t we? We work hard but we play hard, too. We have lives. We have a laugh. But not Max. The guy never goes out. I mean, never!”

  I smiled, slightly less certainly now. “Absolutely,” I said. “You’ve got to enjoy yourself, haven’t you?”

  “Of course you have. Otherwise what’s the point? You just become boring. Like Max.”

  “Right.” I nodded, beginning to feel a twinge of guilt at this assassination. “Although he is really good at what he does. And working hard isn’t a bad thing…”

  Anthony put his arm around me. “You’re very generous, Jess, but come on, let’s be honest. You wouldn’t want to be stuck in a lift with Max for any length of time, would you?”

  A little image flashed into my head of Max and me talking for hours, of me making him laugh—something I’d done only a few times but felt so rewarding because it was so hard—of him letting me lean against him to get some sleep the day after a late night at the office…Then I forced it out. Helen was right—Max was boring and I’d only held a candle for him because I hadn’t dared set my sights any higher. Now I could see him for what he really was. Now I had Anthony. And now, I was Jessica Wiiild.

  “So, champagne?” Anthony asked as he led me into a bar close to the office. I nodded happily, and made my way to a free table.

  “Here we are.” Anthony reappeared from the bar a few minutes later, brandishing a champagne bottle, a bucket, and two glasses. He opened it and winked as the cork popped, then he poured it into the glasses and handed me one. “To the hedge fund manager’s loss and my gain,” he said.

  I smiled. “Yes. Absolutely,” I said, chinking my glass with his.

  “So it’s completely over? I mean, are we done with the marching bands and flowers, do you think?”

  Anthony’s voice was light, but underneath his glibness was a serious question.

  “Sean, you mean?” I asked. “Well, I can’t make any promises, but…”

  “But you’ll tell him where to go if he comes near you again? You’ll make it clear that you’ve got your sights set elsewhere now?”

  I looked at Anthony quizzically. I still couldn’t quite believe that he was really this interested in me. He had his pick of women. “Well,” I said carefully, “I suppose…”

  “Suppose?” Anthony downed his glass and poured himself another. “What do you mean suppose?”

  “I mean…” I took a sip of my champagne, trying to remember what Sean had told me to say. “I mean that…well, Sean and I were really serious. Until we split up. So I want to be careful before I…I guess I want to be sure, that’s all.”

  “Sure about me?”

  “And your intentions.”

  “My intentions.” Anthony grinned wickedly. “My intentions, Jessica Wild, are very dishonorable.”

  I blushed. “That’s what I was afraid of,” I said, putting my glass down. Dishonorable? Just how dishonorable was he talking here?

  “But as for my commitment,” Anthony continued, “it is complete.”

  “Complete?” I arched an eyebrow.

  “I’ll be devoted,” Anthony said, nodding.

  “Devoted to me?” I was going off Sean’s script now, but I couldn’t help wondering why. “When you could have any girl in London?”

  “Why would I want to?” Anthony’s eyes were glistening mischievously and his hand moved toward my leg.

  “But…” I stared at him, perplexed, caught between wanting to know why he was interested in me and wanting his hand to keep doing what it was doing. “Why me?”

  “Because no one else drives me this wild, Jessica Wild,” Anthony said, shifting his chair closer to mine. “Because, unlike Sean, I don’t intend to waste my chances.”

  His voice was soft and low; his mouth moved toward my neck, sending electrical currents down my body. I even seemed to be vibrating.

  Then I realized it was my mobile phone in my pocket.

  “Excuse
me,” I said, pulling away briefly and flashing Anthony an apologetic smile.

  I had a message from Helen. RU at drnks now? Sean called to remind you: hot and COLD. Leave early. xx

  I didn’t want to leave early. I was enjoying myself.

  “Anyway,” Anthony continued, resuming his exploration of my neck as I shoved my mobile into my bag, “you fascinate me, Jessica Wild. I feel like I know nothing about you. You’re elusive. And I like that.”

  “You…do?” I asked, reminding myself to breathe in and out.

  “Of course. Keeps me on my toes.”

  “Right. On your toes.”

  “Shall we go back to mine?”

  “Yes…I mean…what? Now?”

  Anthony looked up at me, grinning. “I’ve got food in the fridge. And more champagne. Come home with me.”

  I cleared my throat. Hot and cold. Maybe I’d just focus on the hot part this evening. Maybe cold could wait until tomorrow. Or the next day. Or…

  “Anthony?” I looked up and Anthony pulled away.

  “Tamara.” He smiled easily. “How are you?”

  “I’m well. Thank you.” Tamara was a tall, elegant blonde who was regarding me rather frostily. She bestowed a large smile on Anthony, though. “I haven’t seen you for ages. Where have you been hiding?”

  He grinned back. “Oh, you know. Keeping busy.” He grabbed her hand playfully. “This is Jessica. Jessica Wild. And Jess, this is Tamara.”

  I smiled politely. Based on not very much, I decided I didn’t like her; she appeared to have come to the same conclusion about me.

  “Delighted,” she said, with an expression that suggested she was anything but.

  “So how about you, Tam?” Anthony asked, evidently oblivious to our animosity. “What have you been up to?”

  Tamara flicked her hair. “The usual,” she said. “Going out, staying in, doing a bit of work here and there. Anyway, I’m on my way to Selina’s for a party, if you want to come. Everyone’s going.”

  “A party, you say?” Anthony’s eyes lit up, and he turned to me. “What do you reckon, Jess?”

  “A party!” I said, trying to sound enthusiastic, wishing that Tamara would disappear into a puff of smoke. “That sounds nice. Although, I’m not sure. I mean, I thought maybe I might…we might…”

  Anthony pulled a hangdog expression. “We don’t have to stay long. Just a quick meet and greet…”

  I smiled weakly. “I suppose…”

  “Great! Tam, why don’t you help us finish this champagne?”

  “Love to,” Tam said, smiling warmly for the first time and sitting down next to Anthony. Anthony shot me a what-can-you-do? smile and waved over a waiter to get her a glass.

  “You know, Gill, don’t stay on my account. If you need to go somewhere.” Tamara was smiling thinly at me; I felt myself getting warm.

  “Jess. It’s Jess,” I managed to say. Quickly I touched Anthony’s hand the way Ivana had taught me and pressed my arms together. Anthony immediately looked appreciatively at my cleavage.

  “She’s not going anywhere,” he said, squeezing my hand reassuringly.

  “You know,” Tamara said, leaning in suddenly, “Marc was telling me that you’ve got some big thing planned. A moneymaking ruse. Do tell. Sounds very intriguing.”

  Anthony frowned slightly. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just work, you know.”

  “Really?” Tamara looked disappointed. “He seemed to think you had some hugely cunning plan.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you,” Anthony said, winking, “but that’s all it is. Just a new deal.”

  “A new deal?” I asked. Questions. I had to ask questions. “What sort of deal? Are you expanding or something?”

  Anthony shrugged and smiled at me. “Oh, something like that. Look, I really shouldn’t be discussing it. It’s nothing. It’s—”

  “Work’s always boring,” Tamara said, faking a yawn. “Like this place. Come on, shall we go?”

  “I don’t think work is boring,” I said pointedly. “I think it’s interesting, actually.” I looked at Anthony with what I hoped was a supportive expression. But instead of smiling appreciatively, he rolled his eyes.

  “It isn’t interesting. Not at all. But Tamara’s right, this place is. Let’s go to the party.”

  “Now?” I bit my lip. I didn’t want to go to a party, particularly if the people there were anything like Tamara. “Why don’t we stay a bit longer? We haven’t even finished the champagne.”

  “Oh no!” Tamara said, her eyes widening, then she laughed, drily. “I think if you look at the bottle closely, you’ll see that it’s sparkling wine, not the real thing. I’m not sure I’m prepared to hang around here any longer for a few sips of this rubbish.”

  “Too right,” Anthony said, standing up. “Let’s get out of here. Shall we get a cab to Selina’s?”

  “Already? I mean, right now?” I asked anxiously. What would Ivana do now? I wondered. Arm-wrestle Anthony to the floor?

  “Of course we should get a cab,” Tamara said, ignoring me completely and gazing at Anthony. “You know I don’t like to walk unless I absolutely have to.” She let her eyes rest on me as I stood up, looking me up and down. She didn’t look particularly impressed.

  And I wasn’t particularly impressed when Anthony offered her his arm.

  “You know what?” I said, suddenly deciding that now was the time for Cold. Frosty, even. I wasn’t even putting on an act this time. “I think I might go. I’ve…I’ve got a few things I need to do.”

  “Go?” Anthony looked at me wide-eyed. “Why would you go? We’re going to a party. Then we’re…” He grinned mischievously. “Then we’ve got plans, haven’t we?”

  I faltered slightly. Maybe I’d overreacted. Maybe he was just being polite to Tamara.

  “Look,” I said, pulling him closer. “How about we forget the party and skip straight to our plans,” I said in my most seductive voice, giving him a meaningful look.

  “You can’t miss the party,” Tamara said quickly. Evidently she had ears like a bat. “Everyone’s going to be there.”

  I forced a smile. “I’m not sure I know everyone,” I said levelly.

  “You will if you come to the party,” Anthony said, pulling his puppy-dog expression again. “Come on, Jess. It’ll be fun.”

  “Lots of fun,” Tamara said in a way that suggested I wouldn’t have much fun at all.

  “I’m not really in the mood for a party,” I heard myself say. I was willing Anthony to tell Tamara we’d give it a miss, desperate for him to leave with me, not her.

  “But it won’t be any fun without you,” Anthony whined. So he was going. With or without me. Of course he was. Had I really thought he might not?

  “Tell you what,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Why don’t I take a rain check. We’ll come back to our plans another day. Okay?” Quickly, before I could change my mind, I gave Anthony a little wave and made my way out of the bar.

  As I reached the door I heard someone coming up behind me and turned to see Anthony, a quizzical expression on his face. “Jess, what’s up?” he asked. “Don’t rush off like this. Stay.”

  I shook my head. “Anthony, I was under the impression that we were having dinner tonight, not going to a party. So now I’m going to go home.”

  “But we…I…look, I won’t go,” he said quickly. “I’ll tell Tamara I’ve…well, I’ll think of something. If that’s what you want. Just say the word and I’ll jack.”

  I looked at him for a moment. “If that were true,” I said gently, opening the door in front of me, “you’d already have told her. Bye, Anthony.”

  I walked down the street as quickly as I could in my high heels. I was almost becoming Jessica Wiiild, I realized.

  “Jess?” I looked up, startled, then stopped when I realized who it was: Max. I hadn’t registered that I was standing just feet away from the entrance to Milton Advertising.

  “Hi, Max. Just leaving work?” I should
have been working that evening, I found myself thinking. I still hadn’t gotten going on Project Handbag and in the great scheme of things maybe it was more important than Project Marriage. For one thing, Project Handbag had a hope of actually being a success.

  Max nodded. “And you? I thought you were out with Anthony.” His expression was unreadable.

  “I was. I…” I shrugged. “Someone called Tamara turned up. They’re going to some party,” I said, barely able to hide the irritation in my voice.

  “Ah, Tamara,” Max said, nodding sagely. “Tall, stupid, and very annoying?”

  I grinned. “You know her then.”

  “Yeah. I can see why you didn’t stay. Anthony’s choice in friends has always been rather dubious in my opinion.”

  “You’re his friend,” I pointed out.

  “I suppose,” Max conceded. “So where are you off to? Home? Can I walk you to the tube?”

  I looked at him uncertainly. Max and I hadn’t really talked to each other much lately. Not since I’d started dating Anthony. Not since I’d decided he was work-obsessed and difficult. “Sure,” I said. “Thanks.”

  We started to walk; immediately a silence fell. An awkward silence.

  “So how’s the account going?” Max said after a few seconds.

  “Project Handbag? Oh, great. You know,” I said, slightly defensively. The truth was I’d barely looked at it in days; I’d been too busy acting hot and cold and receiving gifts from “Sean.”

  “Great.”

  We carried on walking; the tension was becoming uncomfortable. Finally, we got to the tube.

  “You…coming in?” I asked tentatively.