by Mel Gough
They’ve never met. Viv broke off contact with most of her acquaintances from her modeling days. She never thinks about those years, and suppresses the memories again quickly. She’d never say this in company, except maybe to Victor, who understands what she means, but Viv considers women who are famous simply for having beautiful bodies and faces inferior. Sure, she likes to have her picture taken, but it’s as an actress that she fulfils her potential. And she gets interviewed, which really is the best thing about being famous in Hollywood. Nobody wants to hear what a six-foot catwalk beanpole has to say.
A brief flicker of guilt crosses her mind as she thinks of Victor, and the press circuit for Dark Core he’s busy planning right now. She’ll have to contact him soon, and they’ll need to find a way to still work together to promote the film. But first she has to talk to Damien. He might have some ideas on how to handle Victor. It’ll be their shared problem.
Pushing that thought away for now, Viv returns to the pictures of Idil. Viv has to be honest with herself: Idil looks beautiful, even in the severe suit she wears to court. Her features recall a young Naomi Campbell. Viv opens another browser window on the laptop and searches for Idil’s latest photo shoots. She stares at them for a moment, fighting the urge to close the MacBook. Idil’s skin seems to glow from within, and Viv understands enough about photo enhancement to know that this effect can’t be entirely faked. Even in Photoshop you need something to work with. In a few of the pictures, Idil wears what appears to be traditional African clothes, which make her look even more beautiful. She’s lithe and slender, but has curves in all the right places, and nobody with eyes will think her anything other than stunning.
Viv closes the browser tabs. She cannot say how she feels about this goddess Damien has a child with. Viv is honest enough with herself to admit the jealousy, but it’s pushed aside by a feeling of sisterhood. You don’t get a body like that without a lot of hard work. And Viv remembers reading that Idil recently started her own talent agency out in LA. Clearly, there’s more to her than just her beauty.
Damien was in love with Idil at one point. Now, he’s in love with Viv. Another link. And, she realizes with a jolt of happiness, they’ll also share the enviable status of being the mothers of Damien’s children.
On Tuesday morning Viv checks social media again for any sightings of Damien. She feels panicky. Why didn’t she keep tabs over the weekend?
At first, she finds nothing, and no new gossip items either, which on its own means nothing, of course. When he’s in New York, Damien seems to lie low, and doesn’t frequent any of the trendy hangouts Viv has fantasized about being seen at with him. Once they’re together officially she’ll make sure that they’re seen out as much as possible.
As she searches Instagram for the third time, looking for his character name from the Viking show instead of his own name, a picture pops up. It’s only a few minutes old and, according to the caption, from a plane that is about to leave JFK airport. ‘Look who’s on our flight to LA,’ the excited caption further reads. Viv glares at the phone, despising the young girl with the pigtails who beams into the camera as Damien hugs her.
Disgusted, Viv chucks the cell onto the coffee table and stalks over to the bar where a bottle of red wine has mocked her for days.
32
Brad is back at the station on Wednesday, ignoring Eric’s pleas to take some more time for himself, and the pitying looks from their colleagues.
Of course, everyone at the station knows what happened. A Brooklyn Bridge jumper is big news, and someone was bound to find out just who it was that jumped. Brad couldn’t care less about the gossip, but being treated like he might break down at any moment sets his teeth on edge. He and Eric, who has recovered from his flu, spend as many hours as possible away from the incidence room.
The coincidence that Lower Manhattan seems to suddenly be teeming with unexplained deaths isn’t lost on Brad. Their first obvious suicide—a young musician who hanged himself in the basement of a Lower East Side club after the previous night’s gig—isn’t easy on Brad. But Eric has his back. As soon as he rules it a suicide, which takes very little time indeed as the door was locked from the inside and there’s a farewell note that the bandmate who found the body confirms is in the dead guy’s handwriting, Eric takes Brad to the nearest delicatessen and buys him lunch.
“It’s gonna be like this for a while,” he says as he takes a bite from his excellent corned beef sandwich. “And you’re okay. You’re allowed to feel this, all right?”
Brad looks at him, amazed at his own stupidity. He’s known Eric is a great detective ever since he joined the force, but he’s never appreciated just how good a friend he is, until now. “I don’t deserve all of you being so nice, you know,” he says, toying with the bread crust on his own sandwich.
“All of us?” Eric asks past his mouthful.
“You know, Maria and you, and…” Brad breaks off, blushing. Eric doesn’t pursue the subject.
If not for Maria, Brad would have gone to work and then hidden at home by himself every night, but she extends a permanent invitation for dinner, and threatens to bring around the food and her entire family to his house if he doesn’t show up. To his surprise, Brad doesn’t mind. It’s preferable to arrive at a home full of light and life after a challenging day than to return to a cold and dark house where he just stares at the walls, trying not to remember the good and bad times he’s had there with Aiden.
Damien calls on Thursday night. Brad has just gotten home, well-fed and tired from another evening with Maria, Peter, and the twins.
“How’re you doing?” Damien inquires.
“All right, I guess,” Brad replies. “How was LA?”
“Surprisingly good,” Damien says. He sounds much better than the last time they spoke.
“I’m so glad to hear it,” Brad says.
“I’ve had to move around a couple of things while I was away,” Damien says. “I’ve got some catching up to do now and won’t come up for air much. Are you free on Sunday, though? I can’t wait to see you, I just wish it could be sooner.”
“Me too,” Brad says. “Yeah, I’m free this weekend. Wanna come over?”
“Definitely!” Damien says, sounding happy. “I’ll see you Sunday then. Night, Brad!”
“Sleep tight,” Brad replies. He hears Damien chuckle for a moment, then the line goes dead.
For the first time that week, Brad goes to bed smiling.
33
Viv spends most of the next couple of days sulking in the apartment. She and Victor haven’t spent enough time in the city to have many acquaintances here, and anyway, she doesn’t want to see anyone. Certainly not her family. Her mother’s siblings, and her cousins, still live in New York, and Viv takes care not to go near Gramercy Park, where the Petrov dynasty has its stronghold. She wonders if someone has told Mother that she’s here. Even from her Florida retirement residence, Ann would start interfering if she knew what Viv has planned.
Victor seems to have given up on trying to contact her for now, unless the calls from Stef and a couple of other LA numbers that Viv has ignored were made on his behalf. She’s irritable and bored, snapping at the housekeeper—the only human being, apart from the man at the bodega on the corner, that she’s seen in days—for attempting to tidy away the baby things still littering the living room. After the woman leaves in high dudgeon on Tuesday, Viv feels almost bad. She resolves to try and be nicer. Having to find a new housekeeper right now, on top of everything else, would kill her.
On Thursday, the funk is starting to get on her nerves. She collects her available energy and calls her favorite spa to see if they have an emergency appointment for an all-inclusive pamper package. When she leaves the house half an hour later for a half-day beauty and wellness session, she’s finally starting to feel a bit like herself again.
To Viv’s surprise, she wakes up to a new photo on Damien’s Instagram account on Friday. Still lying in bed, she squints at the pho
ne screen. The picture is from inside a photo studio, and there are several people in the picture with him. ‘Back at it!’ the caption reads, but there are no tags, neither of the location nor of the people in the photo.
Nevertheless, Viv realizes she not only knows who these people are, but also where they work. The young hipsters grinning into the camera are Orlando’s Meatpacking District studio assistants. And Viv recognizes the wallpaper and drapes in the background, because the one time she visited that selfsame studio she noticed how much they clashed.
This is perfect! If she manages to run into Damien in the street after his photo shoot it will look natural to ask him to go for a drink or a bite to eat without it looking awkward. And then, finally, she’ll be able to tell him their news.
Viv gets ready at top speed, and climbs out of the cab opposite the studio three quarters of an hour later. There’s a Starbucks right across the street, and Viv settles down with a decaf fat-free latte at a table overlooking the cobbled street and the pretty houses on the opposite side. She has to wait an hour for Damien to appear. When she spots his unmistakable mop of dark curls emerge from the doorway, she drains the rest of her coffee and gathers her bag and coat.
But when she hurries out through the glass door, she sees that Damien isn’t alone. Viv again recognizes Orlando’s assistants. And as she watches, the door to the studio opens once more and Orlando herself steps out. She links arms with Damien, laughing, and together they lead the group down the sidewalk.
Viv follows on the other side of the road. She can’t decide what to do. She knows them both, maybe she should just join them. But her news isn’t yet meant for other ears. Before she can make up her mind, Orlando, Damien, and their entourage file into a small Italian restaurant, and Viv is left looking at the closed door. She balls her fists. She doesn’t want to spend another afternoon in a café somewhere, hoping Damien will leave the restaurant early, and alone. So, reluctantly, she hails a yellow cab and sets off for home.
Viv doesn’t make it out of bed at all the next day. She feels too depressed. She lies on her back for several hours, watching the weak, watery sunshine creep along the ceiling. Today, not even the thought of the baby growing inside her can cheer her up. She feels nothing when she touches her belly, other than a vast emptiness. She’s once again not the least bit hungry and doesn’t touch a bite all day.
Maybe, she thinks, this is pregnancy depression. She thinks she’s read about that somewhere.
34
On Saturday, Brad is at Maria’s again, this time for lunch. It’s a bright, sunny day, crisp but radiant. The twins, wearing brand new fall jackets, scamper around the yard, their excited voices carrying even through the double-glazing. Brad sits on a stool in the kitchen, watching Maria peel potatoes. She has forbidden him to touch anything. His job is to keep her company and her wine glass topped up.
His cell phone rings, and Brad fishes it from his jeans pocket. It’s Damien calling. Brad takes the call with slight trepidation. Has something gone awry and Damien wants to cancel their date tomorrow?
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Hi, Brad.” Damien sounds hesitant. “You okay?”
“Yeah, not bad,” Brad says, trying not to overthink things. “I’m at Maria’s. She tries to make me gain fifteen pounds before Christmas. I don’t know, maybe turkeys are in short supply this year.” He knows he’s babbling, and stops himself. “You calling to cancel for tomorrow?”
“What?” Damien sounds taken aback. “No, no, definitely not. I was just thinking… but you’re busy…”
“Thinking what? Spit it out!”
“Well, I got Zoe here with me. My daughter—” Brad can’t help but interrupt him.
“That’s great news!” he exclaims. “Unexpected, but great!”
“Yeah, it was unexpected,” Damien says, and Brad can hear the smile in his voice. “My trip to LA went well, but I didn’t think Idil would be so quick…” He breaks off.
“What is it?” Brad prompts.
“I…well, I wanted this so much, to have her with me again. But now, I’m terrified. Idil’s left her with me for the afternoon, but I haven’t been alone with her in almost two years.” Damien’s voice is choked, like he has to force the words out past the fear. Brad frowns. This doesn’t sound good. He’s sad for Damien and wants to help, but he isn’t sure that the one thing he can think of at short notice is a good idea. But what else is there to do?
“Why don’t you and Zoe come here?” he asks, glancing at Maria to see her reaction. “Peter and Maria have twin boys; they’re about Zoe’s age, so she won’t be bored.” Maria smiles and nods, and Brad continues. “And Maria always cooks too much. If you help us eat all the food maybe I won’t land myself in a food coma today.” Maria slaps him with the kitchen towel, and Brad grins.
“You sure that’s not too weird? We’re not pushing in?” Damien asks.
“Yes, very sure,” Brad says with emphasis. “Come on. You told me yourself I shouldn’t be alone. Do your part!”
“All right,” Damien says, chuckling. Brad gives him the address, then they hang up.
“That the new boyfriend?” Maria asks, stirring the soup and acting as if she doesn’t care. She glances at Brad, and her eyes twinkle.
“Maybe,” Brad says, teasing her on purpose. It’s a little mean, but he deserves to have some fun with this.
“Is he nice?” she asks, sprinkling some salt into the pot.
“You talked to him,” Brad says. “On Sunday.”
“That was him? Good! He sounded nice.” Another glance. “Is he handsome?”
Brad gets up from the barstool and turns toward the cutlery drawer, so Maria can’t see him grinning. “You tell me. His name’s Damien Thomas.”
There’s a clatter and a splash as Maria drops her spoon into the soup. “No way!” she breathes.
Brad turns around. “Yes way,” he retorts, laughing.
“Damien Thomas, the…the actor?!” Maria squeals. “I don’t believe it! But…” She grows thoughtful. “He was married to a woman.”
“And he’s bringing his daughter, yes,” Brad says. “So?”
Maria rolls her eyes at him. “Well, it explains why I didn’t know he was gay.”
“Yeah, it does,” Brad replies, preferring to leave the discourse on Damien’s sexuality for another time. “Now, are you going to need help with lunch? You look a little flustered.”
“I damn well need help,” she snaps, untying her apron. “Keep stirring the soup, I’ll have to go get changed!”
“Why?” Brad asks, puzzled. He looks her up and down while he finds a fork to fish out the spoon Maria dropped into the soup. “You look fine.”
“A celebrity is coming for lunch,” Maria says in a stage whisper, flinging her apron on the counter. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.” She hurries from the room, muttering Damien’s name to herself as she goes.
Brad turns back to the soup, shaking his head and grinning. No use telling Maria that Damien won’t care what she wears. And Brad can’t blame her; he’s just as excited himself.
The emptiness Viv experienced after observing Damien with Orlando and her crew has been replaced with fresh determination by the next day. She’ll speak to him today, whatever happens. It’s high time for him to find out that he’ll be a father again.
She showers, and then calls the limousine company to arrange a ride. Out of habit, she asks the driver—not the same one that was so rude and judgey she’s pleased to notice—to drop her off at the bubble tea café. Her timing couldn’t have been better. Just when the sedan drives away Viv sees Damien step out of his building across the street. But he’s not alone. A tiny girl with curly dark hair and golden-brown skin clutches his hand, skipping on the sidewalk. This can only be Zoe.
Viv stands motionless, too surprised and uncertain to make up her mind on what to do next. A yellow cab waits on the curb by Damien’s door, and before Viv can recover her wits, Damien and Zoe have disappeared into its
backseat.
But Viv isn’t mad. Smiling to herself, she turns, toward Broadway and Canal Street, which aren’t far. Damien and his daughter will be gone awhile, and before she settles down again in the café to wait for their return she can browse the shops.
As she walks, Viv lets the scene of Damien and his daughter getting into the cab replay in her mind. Soon, he’ll have two little hands to hold.
When Maria welcomes Damien and Zoe into her home, Brad can’t believe she’s the same woman who freaked out and ran from the kitchen half an hour ago. Maria seems not at all nervous now and treats Damien just like any guy Brad has ever brought over. Damien is his best charming self. Brad is once again amazed just how unprepossessing and normal he behaves with people. You would never know what he does for a living by the way he treats others. He even brings flowers for Maria, and chats with Peter about football during lunch.
Everyone is immediately in love with Zoe. Her skin is a luminous golden brown and even Brad can recognize the famous Idil Phoenix in her fine features. But she’s also definitely Damien’s daughter. Her hair is shiny and soft, and the raven curls fall just like her dad’s around her tiny, smiling face. And she’s sweet and polite, looking up to her dad to ask permission before accepting a second helping of dessert, and then running off with Kyle and Jay when the boys get bored at the table.
Peter goes with them to supervise a game of soccer in the yard, and Maria shoos Brad and Damien into the living room, threatening them with immediate eviction if they so much as lift a soup spoon to help her clear up.
So Brad and Damien find themselves sitting on the sofa, each clutching an espresso and trying to move as little as possible, they’re so full. Damien has sat down close enough so that their legs touch, and now he leans against Brad’s shoulder with a contented sigh. Brad glances at Damien’s curly head. He’s looking down into his cup, but Brad is sure he’s smiling.