by Mandy Baggot
The door of the bedroom opened and Angel burst forward. ‘I got triple bunny points and unlocked a golden chicory!’
‘So much excitement over vegetables! I wish you were the same when they’re on your plate,’ Hayley exclaimed, waving her arms in the air.
‘Wow. You look really nice.’
‘Do I?’ Hayley asked, brushing her hands down the front of the red dress she’d last worn to a work Christmas party a few years ago. She didn’t know why she’d even packed it in her case but now she was very glad she had
‘What are you going to do with your hair?’ Angel asked.
‘I’ve done my hair!’
‘Oh.’ Angel’s response wasn’t encouraging.
Hayley stared into the mirror. She’d brushed and blow-dried. What more could she do when it was in that in-desperate-need-of-a-good-cut phase?
‘Uncle Dean!’ Angel hollered. ‘Did you say Vernon used to be a hair stylist?’
‘Angel, stop!’ Hayley put her finger over her lips and tried to shush her.
Dean appeared at the door of the room. ‘You yelled … oh Hayley, you look nice.’
‘Why is everybody sounding so surprised?’ Hayley asked, folding her arms across her chest and dropping down to the bed. Things were still a little tense with Dean.
‘She needs her hair done. This is an important business dinner,’ Angel said in serious tones.
‘An important business dinner eh?’ Dean said, giving Hayley the benefit of a shamed look.
‘Can Vernon come over and cut it real quick?’ Angel asked.
‘That’s really quick in British English,’ Hayley commented. ‘Wait a second, no! I don’t need a haircut and Oli …’ She stopped herself quickly. ‘The person I’m having a business dinner with will be here in less than an hour.’
‘It shouldn’t take that long to zhoosh it up,’ Angel said.
‘What word was that? Zhoosh?! There is no way that’s in your special dictionary.’
‘Actually it is. Z-H-O-O-S-H. It means to make more exciting or attractive.’
‘Hmm, you mean like the time I gave Mrs Farmer a makeover and got her into a peplum?’
‘Vernon is on his way here,’ Dean responded.
‘Ooo tell him to go back for his scissors!’ Angel ordered.
Oliver Drummond’s Penthouse, Downtown Manhattan
‘Man, will you chill out?
Tony was gulping his best Scotch like it was water and Oliver didn’t even care. He was nervous. More nervous than he’d ever been before, which was ridiculous. It was just a date. And just because he didn’t do dates very often it didn’t ramp up this date to a higher ranking. It was just a night out. Casual.
‘I’m fine,’ Oliver replied, although the tone of his voice said otherwise.
‘So this chick is English. She’s the sister of someone who works for you. She’s got a nine-year-old daughter and an ex she wants to find.’ Tony sucked in more Scotch. ‘I have to say the last bit of that sentence is just plain weird.’
‘It’s for her daughter,’ Oliver said, looking at his reflection in the mirror.
‘So she says.’
‘What reason has she got to lie?’ He turned to face his friend then. ‘Wouldn’t it have been easier to say she wanted a Porsche or an island in the Indian Ocean?’
‘You still don’t know for sure it wasn’t her who sold you out to the New York Times.’
‘I do actually,’ Oliver said with a nod. ‘Delaney found out I’ve had a journalist on my tail for the past month. He was sat right behind me that night we went to Vipers.’
Tony shook his head. ‘How did she find that out?’
‘With Delaney it’s often better not to ask.’ Oliver turned to face him. ‘How do I look?’
‘Like you’re ready for a fashion show.’
Dean Walker’s Apartment, Downtown Manhattan
‘I know Angel said you used to be a hair stylist but how long ago is “used to be”?’ Hayley cringed as the scissors clipped another section of hair and she felt it fall from her shoulders.
‘It must be about ten, eleven years or so ago,’ Vernon said, removing a clip from her hair.
‘Gosh, that long,’ Hayley stuttered out the reply.
‘It’s like driving a car. Once you learn it’s there with you forever,’ Vernon said, snipping some more.
Hayley grimaced. ‘The technique maybe, perhaps not the styles. I know the Jennifer Aniston was really popular back in the day but …’
‘Why are you so nervous?’ Vernon asked with a smile.
‘Oh, I don’t know. I have someone coming to pick me up in twenty minutes and I haven’t had my hair cut in like two years. I’m concerned he won’t recognise me. I’m concerned I won’t recognise me.’
‘Relax, Hay, I trust Vernon implicitly,’ Dean stated, putting a mug of coffee on the breakfast bar.
‘Does he cut your hair?’
‘Heaven’s no! I go to a little Asian man in Greenwich Village.’
‘Let me out of this chair!’ Hayley screamed.
‘Mum, for goodness’ sake. You’re in charge of organising a big Christmas charity fundraiser and you’re acting like a baby over a haircut. If I were you I’d be more worried about getting that finished on time, not a few split ends.’
‘I wasn’t worried about split ends. But at the rate my hair’s falling on the floor there might be none left to worry about.’
‘Dean, go and get me some of that wax you use and the blow-dryer,’ Vernon instructed.
‘I’m fine. It’s fine. We can be done now, can’t we?’
‘Mum, you’re meant to enjoy make-over transformations,’ Angel said, sinking her teeth into an apple from the fruit bowl.
‘Is that what I’m having?’
‘It certainly looks like it from where I’m standing.’
‘Dean! Bring me a mirror!’
* * *
Oliver Drummond’s Penthouse, Downtown Manhattan
‘I have to say you’re going to a lot of effort for someone who lives on the other side of the world,’ Tony stated as Oliver buttoned up his coat.
‘Just because things can’t be permanent doesn’t mean you shouldn’t make an effort.’
‘Spoken like someone living on borrowed time.’
Oliver swallowed. There was the reminder that it wasn’t just Hayley living an expanse of ocean away that would stop this being any more than a string of dates. It was the fact of his own ticking time bomb. That was why he didn’t make plans. That’s why every night he let himself blow in the wind, end up wherever the mood, circumstance or his best friend took him. There would be no putting down roots or long-term connections for him, that’s why everything in his personal life stayed casual. Just like this. Tonight was absolutely no different except it was planned fun – with someone he knew – rather than spontaneous fun – with someone he didn’t. That’s what he kept telling himself.
‘I didn’t mean that,’ Tony said quickly. ‘I let the Romario mouth take over for a second without engaging the brain.’
Oliver smiled, shaking his head. ‘That’s OK. I know what you’re doing.’
‘What am I doing?’
‘Looking out for me. Like you always do.’
‘Come on, Oliver, that sounds way too much like sentimental crap to me.’
He nodded. ‘You’re right and I need to get out of here.’ He swallowed. ‘So remember, table for two, the one in the corner about ten o’ clock.’
‘It’s all arranged, man. Momma’s been flitting around the kitchen since I told her you were bringing someone over.’ Tony smiled. ‘You might only have temporary on your mind, but Momma’s never seen you with a girl … she’s expecting marriage.’
* * *
Dean Walker’s Apartment, Downtown Manhattan
‘Close your eyes,’ Vernon said.
‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ Hayley said, shutting her eyes tight.
‘Don’t puke, it will ruin your dress,
’ Angel said, guiding Hayley by the arm towards the gilt framed mirror in the hallway.
‘OK. Are you ready?’ Vernon asked.
‘I very much doubt it.’
‘Open your eyes!’ Vernon ordered.
Hayley snapped back her lids, fully expecting to be horrified by what she saw. Instead she choked on a lump of emotion that had jumped up from nowhere. Staring back at her was the reflection of someone she barely recognised. Her mid-length hair had been cut to just below the chin in an inverted bob, sleek, shiny and perfect. She put her hands to it, ready to feel some of the glossiness. Vernon took her hand.
‘You mustn’t touch it, darling. You’ll ruin it.’
‘I … don’t believe what you’ve done.’
‘You look gorgeous, Hayley, utterly gorgeous,’ Dean said, wiping at his eyes.
‘Oh no, I’ll go and get the Kleenex,’ Angel said, disappearing back towards the kitchen.
‘I don’t know what to say.’ Hayley looked to Vernon and then to Dean.
‘You just go out and have fun with that gorgeous man,’ Vernon said. ‘I’ve got a project for Miss Short Stuff while you’re out. We’re going to beautify Randy.’
‘Thank you, Vernon,’ Hayley croaked out.
‘You’re welcome. I’ll set to it,’ Vernon said, rubbing Dean’s shoulder as he passed.
Hayley admired her reflection in the mirror again, taking delight in the way her new hair moved.
‘I mean it, Hayley, you look absolutely stunning,’ Dean said.
‘Good enough for a billionaire?’
She hadn’t meant the sentence to come out hard and she swallowed, waiting for her brother’s reaction.
‘Listen, Hayley, about last night … everything I said to you just came out wrong.’ Dean sighed. ‘I am so incredibly proud of you but I’m also an overprotective brother who lives on the other side of the world and worries.’ He paused. ‘You’ve gone through so much and sometimes I just want you to slow down and … maybe share what’s going on in that head of yours.’
‘I’m not sure you’d really want to know,’ Hayley said, smiling.
‘I do, Hayley. I do want to know,’ Dean insisted.
She nodded. ‘Well, I need something other than Angel in my life now, Dean. I came over here for Christmas because she wanted to find her father but when I thought about coming here I wondered if I might find something for myself too. Even if it was only inspiration, you know, a starting block.’
‘Like the job with the uniform I’m not going to ask about.’
‘Yes, like that … but look what that led to. I’m event-managing one of the most prestigious charity events in the city … and now I’ve said that out loud I feel really, really scared.’
‘And there’s a billionaire about to pitch up at my door and whisk you off for a night of excitement I really don’t want to think about.’
Hayley smiled. ‘I don’t know what’s going to happen with Oliver but I like him and he likes me and we make each other laugh.’
‘He laughs? Seriously? I’m going to have to put that on a notice board at the office.’
The intercom buzzed and a fizz of anticipation crackled through Hayley’s body. Oliver was here.
‘I wish I’d opened some wine,’ she said, her lips juddering out the words. ‘It’s got cold in here.’
‘It’s just nervous anticipation. Where’s he going to take you?’ Dean asked.
‘I have no idea.’
‘Well, listen to me,’ Dean said, putting his head close to hers and turning them both towards the mirror. ‘You get a chance to go to that penthouse then you take it. It’s the weekend, Vernon and I can do that awful Christmas story and breakfast in the morning.’
Hayley looked at their reflections and turned her face to kiss Dean’s cheek. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome. Now, go on down, before his footman buzzes again.’ Dean let her go.
‘Angel!’ Hayley shouted. ‘Don’t you make Uncle Dean read that Christmas story more than three times and only two bowls of ice cream!’
‘Three times!’ Dean exclaimed.
‘Goodnight. I’ll be good!’ Hayley said, pounding down the stairs, tucking her sequinned bag under her arm.
‘Don’t be good. Just be careful!’
38
Outside Dean Walker’s Apartment, Downtown Manhattan
Oliver put his finger to the intercom button again, ready to push it for a second time. She had changed her mind. He swallowed. How did that make him feel? Disappointed. He took his hand away from the button and blew some hot breath onto his fingers. It was freezing tonight but inside he had been crackling with anticipation for what was to come. Maybe he should go. Accept that between this morning and now she had had second thoughts.
The door whipped open and there she was.
‘My God,’ he exclaimed, his eyes bulging in appreciation.
She looked even more heavenly, if that was possible. It was her hair. It was different. It now showed off her petite features, that heart-shaped face, highlighting more of that soft neckline he wanted to get better acquainted with.
‘I’m sorry, I should rephrase that quickly.’ He reached for her hand. ‘You look stunning.’ He brought her hand to his lips and placed a delicate kiss on her skin. ‘I’ve never seen business wear quite like it.’
‘Why, thank you, Clark. I have to admit you scrub up quite well yourself.’ She blushed.
‘Shall we?’ he asked, indicating the black town car waiting at the bottom of the steps.
‘Can I know where we’re going now?’ Hayley asked, taking his arm.
‘No.’
* * *
The Metropolitan Opera House, Lincoln Center Plaza
Hayley had sat herself back into the heated leather seats of the car and spent the entire journey surveying the sights and sounds of the Big Apple through the tinted glass window. The buildings on the drive ranged from giant international stores and smart hotels, to bodegas and brownstones. Lamp posts cast a glow over the snow-covered vehicles parked on the street, strings of fairy lights hung from trees and roofs, the faint scent of ginger snaps was in the air. It was the first time since she’d arrived in the city that she was actually able to take it in in all its glory. Because there was beauty in the bustle of life here, like the arch in Washington Square Park last night, old and new blending together to create one perfect heady mix of a culture she’d once thought was hers for the taking. Concentrating on the scene outside had been better than the alternative. Focussing on her companion. Her nose had been filled with the musky scent of his aftershave and they’d sat so close the heat from his body had seeped its way into hers. Gazing at the city sights had stopped her falling under the spell of those hazel eyes and admitting what his presence did to her.
The car had dropped them five minutes or so ago and now they were walking, the shoes she had packed but never expected to wear starting to shave the skin off her little toes.
‘Is it far?’ she asked Oliver, trying her best not to limp.
‘No,’ he responded. ‘It’s just over there.’
Hayley followed his line of vision to a fountain just ahead, its water bright white, bubbling up like a newly found oil well. Just behind, five arched windows stretched up from sidewalk to sky, ethereal light making them look like heavenly guardians protecting whatever was within.
‘What is this place?’ she asked, unable to stop the anticipation spreading over her face.
‘It’s the Metropolitan Opera House,’ he answered.
‘Wow!’ she breathed out quickly. Opera. She couldn’t show any disappointment. It might be good. It wasn’t Maroon 5 but it was a new experience. She swallowed.
He grinned at her. ‘You love opera, right?’
She nodded so much she was afraid her head might roll right off her shoulders when she was done. ‘Yeah, of course! Who doesn’t love opera?! Men and women singing in a language I don’t understand. I’m all about the soprano and the not
understanding the plotline.’ She swallowed. ‘That was a joke by the way. This is a really great idea for a date.’
Oliver let his laugh go. ‘I hate opera.’
‘You do?’ She couldn’t help the gasp of relief. ‘You really had me going there for a second.’
He offered her his arm. ‘Come on, let’s get inside out of the cold.’
Hayley slipped her arm through his, her fingers taking a hold of his black woollen coat, the solidity of his forearm prevalent under the fabric. This was happening. This was her going on a date. A date she wanted to be on, with someone who made her insides curl up in ways she’d forgotten about.
They walked across the paving, their breath hanging hot in the freezing air, following groups of people ahead all starting to congregate outside the entrance.
Hayley tugged on Oliver’s arm, making him turn his head. ‘So if this isn’t opera, what is it?’
He smiled then, his eyes creasing at the corners, and Hayley held her breath. There were those oh-so-kissable lips she really wanted to get to know more intimately. God, it was like she was on heat. One sniff of a date and she was ready for anything. She was supposed to be being cautious here, not turning into a man devourer just because she hadn’t had a man for a while. Albeit a long while.
‘You’ll just have to wait and see,’ he replied, tapping his nose with his finger.