Haven
I bet he had slept with her despite his denial. She was all over him like a disease, and she was gorgeous and tiny and had a permanent smile on her face. She couldn’t keep her hands off him, and was offering it up to him on a plate. There was no way a guy would say no to her. He wasn’t fighting her off, but there was nothing I could see that made me believe he wasn’t encouraging her. Maybe he hid it well, or perhaps he just didn’t have to.
“Sandy, we need you.” One of the crewmembers interrupted our short conversation, leaving Harry and me on our own again.
“She seems friendly,” I said. I started to roll my eyes and stopped myself. He was holding up his end of the deal. Sandy had been about to get pissed off about the question about it being her first film offer before he saved the day. I didn’t want to alienate our star before I’d even begun.
“Do you always wear your hair scraped back like that?” he asked as he stood up and headed back toward our allocated chairs. I could do nothing but follow him.
“Is that a question?” It sounded like a criticism. I glanced back at Sandy with her beautiful chestnut hair, blown out so perfectly. Surely she didn’t look like that every day?
“If you don’t understand whether or not I’m asking you a question, you might want to rethink your day job.” Harry grinned, and I automatically smiled back at him.
“I meant, is it one of your questions that I have to answer?” I asked.
“You have to answer everything I ask.”
I frowned at him. “I always wear it up for work.”
“It’s quite severe.”
My stomach clenched. Had he compared me directly with Sandy?
“Okay, not a question,” he said. “It’s just . . . I think it would look better down.”
I couldn’t decide if I was insulted or intrigued that he had considered what I would look like with my hair down. I fought a smile that he’d thought about it at all.
When I didn’t respond he started to speak again. “Tell me what I’m meant to have heard about you at work. You mentioned before about people talking about you.”
I shifted in my seat and smoothed my hair back. Was he deliberately trying to make me feel uncomfortable? I shrugged.
“We have a deal,” he said.
“I’m not sure why you’d want to torture me. Maybe it’s a sport for people like you.” He didn’t respond. Shit, I’d managed to be bitchy to him again. I hoped if I answered, he’d overlook it. “People don’t like me in the office. You must have realized. I’m not part of the gang. I’m not one of the cool girls who socialize and gossip together.”
“One of the cool girls?” He turned and smiled, raising an eyebrow at me. My stomach tilted. Was he flirting?
“You know. The ones who everyone wants to be or is desperate to fuck.” Saying the word fuck in front of him felt weird but it was on my tongue before I could stop it.
“We’re not in high school,” he said, still grinning. When he smiled, his whole face joined in, it wasn’t contained to his mouth.
I caught myself staring at him and quickly looked away. “Have you not been paying attention? The class sizes might be bigger and we might get paid, but we’re still in high school.”
He chuckled and the corners of his eyes crinkled up. I bet he was an excellent kisser. What? Stop it? I was sure he had his pick of women and left the bodies scattered across the city like litter.
“What do your parents do?” he asked.
“I think I should be able to veto some of these questions.”
“That wasn’t the deal—”
His phone began to vibrate and he drew his eyebrows together. “I’m going to have to take this. Try not to get into trouble while I’m gone.”
I rolled my eyes and went back to my laptop. What on earth was I going to write about? I had nothing so far other than Sandy wanted to dry hump Harry. That was why I didn’t do celebrities. They were never quite as interesting as you imagined them to be. And they were always smaller than they seemed on screen. It was like the entertainment industry had a height restriction.
Harry seemed to have received good news from his phone call.
“Why are you in such a good mood? Did your girlfriend’s chlamydia test come back negative?”
“Give it a fucking rest, Haven. Misery is not most people’s default status.”
“I’m not miserable.”
“Okay, rude then,” he said. I cringed inwardly but tried not to let it show.
“Sorry. Ask me a question.” My tongue was particularly acerbic when I was around him. It was like I wanted to poke about a bit in that charming exterior and see how deep it went. Was I trying to goad him into losing his cool so I could see who he really was? I was thinking too much about Harry when I should be concentrating on Sandy.
“You can’t keep doing that, being like that.”
“Sorry. It was meant to be funny.” I felt silly and embarrassed. I had wanted to make him laugh.
“By joking about my girlfriend’s STDs?”
I shrugged. Luke would have laughed.
“We don’t know each other well enough to be joking about chlamydia.” He chuckled and shook his head.
I bit back a smile.
“So tell me about your parents,” he said, going back to the question he’d asked before his phone call and the one I most dreaded from people.
“They’re dead,” I replied.
He burst out laughing and I found myself smiling at him.
“Jesus. You are dark. Seriously, though . . . ”
“Seriously. They died,” I said. Nobody had ever laughed when I’d told them about my parents—not that I told many people. I found that it was a reaction I preferred over what was normally pity.
“Shit.” He went white. “I thought you were joking.”
“I know. It’s fine.” I smiled at him. I didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable.
“When did they die?”
“I was fifteen.” Most people didn’t ask follow up questions when I told them that they said they were sorry and then tried to change the subject. Harry didn’t seem to be embarrassed at all.
“How did it happen? At the same time?”
“Yeah. They were in a car accident.” A familiar pressure built across my temples and a sharp stab of pain hit me between my brows. I reached for my forehead, hoping my fingers would usher it away.
“I’m sorry,” he said, like they all did.
I kept rubbing my forehead.
“Well, unless you were the drunk driver who ran into them, you have nothing to be sorry for.” I didn’t want people’s pity, it made me feel weak and it was unacceptable for me to feel that way in front of strangers.
“Haven, I’m sorry for your loss. Let me be sorry for your loss.”
I hated the bit straight after I told people. Everyone was uncomfortable. They didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to disappear, I didn’t want their sympathy or sorrow. It felt private, like I didn’t want to share how I felt about my parents, the accident and their death. Those feelings were mine and I guarded them. People’s reaction felt like a call for me to open up. That was why I hated telling people. I didn’t mind people knowing, but I didn’t like the time just after they knew.
Murmurings from the crew in front of us brought our attention back to our surroundings and Sandy came rushing over.
“Harry—I’m done for the day. Shall we go into town and get me drunk?” She giggled.
“I’ve just had a phone call that I have to deal with but another time? When are we back here?”
“Monday,” I said. Drunk Sandy might be more interesting than sober Sandy. Couldn’t Harry’s phone call wait? Although, I wasn’t sure she’d planned to have me tag along.
“Your mind is always on your work, Harry. You need to carve out some time for a little fun.” She turned, winked at him over her shoulder and spun off.
“Well, there are no mixed signals there. I’m guessing she’s a sure thing,” I said.
Harry shrugged and we packed up our stuff and headed to the car.
“Do you like her?” I asked.
“You keep forgetting that I’m asking the questions.” I hated that he dodged the question. I wanted to know whether he found her attractive. What was his type?
“So ask.” I liked that he wanted to know things about me. That he was interested enough to keep this up. It was like our own private game, and somehow he made me feel safe, like I could answer truthfully and nothing bad would happen.
“What’s your favorite food?”
I laughed. He was keeping things on safer ground. “Eggs,” I replied.
“Really?”
“Yeah, love ’em.” It was true. There was nothing nicer than an egg.
“Served any particular way?”
“I’m not fussy.”
“Well, I know that’s a lie,” he said and grinned.
I poked him in the ribs, our eyes met and I quickly pulled my hand away. All of a sudden touching him didn’t seem very appropriate. I’d forgotten myself. I’d thought I was with Luke or Ash.
“With eggs, I’m not fussy.”
“What about time of year?” he asked.
“It seems very one sided and unfair that I can’t ask any questions of you.”
“That’s the deal, and anyway, my favorite food is steak. Not very original, but true nonetheless.”
He helped me load my bag into the back of the car and folded his too long legs into the passenger seat of my tiny car. Maybe he wasn’t spoiled as I’d thought he was.
“I like the spring,” I told him. “The pussy willow, the daffodils. The lengthening days and the promise of summer.”
He nodded and smiled. “Me too.”
Luke scooted Ash and I up his sofa so he could sit down. I loved it when it was the three of us together. We were in a bubble and nothing could touch us, nothing could hurt us. Even though my brother lived with his girlfriend, somehow their flat was very much his. There weren’t many signs of Emma at all.
“So how’s it going with that guy who called you a bitch?” Luke asked as he set down the popcorn in front of Ash and me.
My cheeks burned at the thought of Harry.
“Who called you a bitch?” Ash asked.
“A new person. Harry. But it’s fine now. I think.”
“A new guy?”
I nodded. “A photographer. Some Uni friend of Robert’s. You know how Robert gives his friends jobs.”
“Is he being an asshole, or were you being a bitch?” Ash asked.
“No, actually. I think I was being a bitch.”
I caught Ash and Luke exchange a glance.
“Are you two flirting?” I asked, trying to throw the spotlight back on someone other than me.
“No we are not. When I make a play for your brother, he won’t be able to resist me and we’ll be wedding planning within weeks, so you’ll be well aware.”
“Ash,” Luke said, a warning in his voice. I wasn’t sure if he really didn’t like her teasing him about their imaginary life as a couple, or whether he felt he should say something because he was living with Emma.
“Anyway, back to you. Is this new guy hot?”
I rolled my lips together. He was very definitely hot. And very definitely too hot for me to even consider him hot. “He’s fine, if you’re in to that kind of thing.”
“Interesting,” Ash said.
I glanced at Luke and he raised his eyebrows.
“What? I asked, raising my palms.
“Well, normally you make gagging sounds when I ask you if a guy is hot. Or you tell me that he smells like he hasn’t washed since before Robbie left Take That, the first time. Or that he walks with a limp, or—”
“Okay, I get the picture, funny girl.”
Luke was laughing. “It’s true though, Haven. ‘Fine’ is the equivalent of you saying that you want to lick him all over.”
“Well, I have no intention of licking him anywhere. You guys are gross,” I said as I got up and headed over to the kitchen. “No kissing while I turn my back for five seconds to get more booze.”
“Okay, we’ll skip straight to the sex,” Ash called after me.
Ash and Luke started to argue about which film to put on. I was still thinking about my tongue trailing down Harry’s chest.
My phone vibrating interrupted my inappropriate thought and my mouth went dry when I saw it was a text from Harry. Shit. That was a coincidence.
H: Sorry, can’t do Monday. Will have to rearrange or go without me.
What a fucker. Just when I thought he was a half-decent guy he went and pulled a stunt like that. I tossed my phone onto the table and Luke and Ash snapped their heads toward me.
“It’s nothing. Someone at work being a wanker.”
“Was it licky Harry?” Ash asked.
I threw a napkin at her. “You’re gross.”
“Come on Rapunzel, let down your golden hair and pour out the shots,” Ash said.
The call of tequila. Something I could never resist.
“Can I play with it?” she asked as I started pouring out too-full shot glasses.
“You are a freak,” I said. “Luke, you’re never to marry this girl, do you hear me?”
“Have you both forgotten that I’m living with Emma?”
“She’s just a phase,” Ash and I said in unison and then collapsed into laughter. Emma was okay, but I honestly couldn’t see him with her forever. She didn’t laugh enough. She didn’t make Luke laugh enough, and it always seemed to be him who was making all the compromises. I wanted my brother to be happy, and I wasn’t sure he was.
“If you don’t want me to play with it, perhaps you could have it cut and make a wig and I could have that?” Ash asked.
“You’re not playing with my hair and I’m not having it cut, you weirdo.”
“I’m not weird, you know I’ve always wanted your Rapunzel-like hair.”
Jake
I was pretty sure Haven would be mad at me for cancelling the Monday trip to the studio, but there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t miss this follow up meeting with Hal. Robert was fine with me setting my own hours, and Haven could go on her own. I didn’t need to be there every time she went, although she hadn’t exactly hit it off with Sandy. Or anyone, apparently.
“Are you okay? You’re frowning,” Beth said.
“Yeah, I’ve had to cancel on Haven on Monday because Hal wants me to meet with his corporate finance guy.”
“Haven’s the uptight one who’s writing the story on Sandy?”
I nodded. “I think she’ll struggle with Sandy on her own.”
“You’re a good man Jake.”
“Hardly, I’m letting her down.”
“Yeah, but at least you have the decency to feel bad about it.” Beth laughed and I grinned at her.
“I’m not sure that counts, but thanks for your faith. I better get going or I’m going to be late for my date with Millie and I’ll have another woman mad at me.” I scanned the room for my keys and wallet.
“Well that’s no bad thing as far as I’m concerned.”
“Millie isn’t as awful as you think. You just caught her on the spot.”
“Whatever. I can smell a gold-digger when I see one.” Beth was very protective of me.
“You think all women are after my money.”
“That’s because they are.”
“Maybe it’s my big dick,” I said, grinning at my sister.
“You’re gross. Get out.”
“I’m going. Don’t wait up.” I leaned over the sofa and kissed her on the head. She swatted me away.
Sure enough, Millie texted me to check if I had left before I’d had a chance to get out of the building. When I arrived at her place, she opened the front door as soon as I knocked, like she was standing behind it, waiting.
“Hey, you look beautiful,” I told her. She always looked good. We’d been dating about three months and I’d never seen her anything other than fully made up with a new outfit on or naked.
She smiled at me. “Thanks. I do try for you. So where are you taking me?”
“It’s a surprise,” I replied as I opened the car door for her.
I might be still living in the flat I was in when I was a student but I’d upgraded my car. I had two in fact. An Aston Martin DB9 for nights like this and then a run-around Golf.
As I rounded the hood to take the driver’s side, I glanced back at her. She suited the car perfectly, like she was made for it. No one could deny she was beautiful, and she was good in bed. A surprisingly rare combination in a woman, I’d come to realise. She was the kind of girl that made other guys jealous—not that that was my intention, it was just a fact. But it came at a price. She liked the finer things in life, and there was no chance of us kicking back on the sofa on a Saturday night, or a long walk and lunch in a pub on Sunday. Millie was all about high-end glamour. She made me work for it, but I was okay with that. I liked to work for things that were worth it.
“Chiltern Firehouse sound okay?”
It was a good compromise. Relaxed enough that I could wear jeans but full of enough designer-clad celebrities to keep Millie happy.
The twitching at the corners of her mouth suggested that she was trying to hide a shit-eating grin.
“What would you like to drink?” I asked her as we arrived at the bar adjoining the restaurant.
“Something bubbly,” she replied.
Of course. I ordered a beer and a glass of champagne. “So how have you kept yourself busy today?” I asked in an attempt to get her to stop so obviously scanning for celebrities.
“I went to the spa with Cissy, and then we went shopping.” She smiled at me. “Underwear shopping,” she whispered. “You deserve a reward for getting a table here.”
Normally a comment like that from her would create a dozen mental pictures of Millie in various states of undress and a distinct stirring in my trousers. For some reason, I didn’t feel anything.
“Come on, let’s get seated if you’re so keen,” I said and guided her through to the restaurant, my hand on the bottom of her back.
The waiter led us to our table and handed us our menus. I wasn’t sure what the fuss was about. It seemed like a hundred restaurants I’d been to before. I’d been given a token for some private members’ club for after dinner, but I’d decided not to tell Millie about that yet.
“Was it what you expected?” I asked her, glancing round again.
“Yes, I mean, if it’s good enough for Orlando Bloom and Victoria Beckham then it’s good enough for me.”
I smiled at her. I was glad she was pleased.
I turned my attention to the menu. I grinned when I noticed one of the starters was a soft poached egg. “What’s your favorite food?”
She stared at me and her eyebrows knitted together. “What?”
“Your favorite food, what is it?”
“I’ve never thought about it. Caviar? Why? Have you arranged for us to have some?”
My heart sank and I shook my head. I wondered if she liked caviar or if she liked it because that was what she was supposed to like. I wondered if I really liked Millie, or if was I was dating her because she was the kind of woman I was supposed to date.
“Apparently there’s a super-exclusive private members’ club at the back that some customers get invited to join,” she said.
“Really?” I feigned ignorance.
“Getting in there would mean I would give you free entry anywhere, if you get my meaning.”
Was she offering me anal sex if I got her into a nightclub? My appetite died. I always understood our relationship was a transaction of sorts, but it had never been in such sharp focus for me.
“Another night,” I said.
I signed the bill and felt relieved. I hadn’t enjoyed the evening. Being with Millie had made me feel uncomfortable.
As we headed out, I caught her doing a final scan of the restaurant. “Disappointed you didn’t see any celebrities?”
“Maybe a little,” she said. “But it’s a good excuse to come back. Now let’s get back to mine so I can thank you properly.”
We made our way toward the car and she reached for my hand. I didn’t resist her.
“Jesus, are they wearing pajamas?” she asked me, pointing at two girls coming in our direction, huddled up in coats that didn’t quite hide the pastel-colored leggings beneath. They were laughing like crazy people, then stopped suddenly beside my car as one of them finished what they were saying and then they both burst into another round of laughter. I couldn’t help but smile at them, they were having their own private party.
“They’re going to scratch your car,” Millie warned.
Something about one of them seemed familiar. I stepped forward, trying to see better. “Haven?” I asked. The girl on the right looked like her, but I’d never seen Haven with her hair down, so perhaps I’d got it wrong.
“Haven?” I asked again, surer this time.
I was close enough to have both their attention, and it was most certainly Haven. Haven with her hair down. Haven far from sober. She stood stock-still and put her hand over her mouth.
“I thought that was you,” I said when she didn’t say anything. Her friend was shaking her shoulder.
We were a couple of feet apart. Millie had gone round to the passenger side of the car and I was on the sidewalk with Haven.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
Her friend answered for her. “Yes, thanks, handsome, we’re just a little drunk, but it’s alright because soon we’ll be a lot drunk.” She thrust a bottle of wine in the air.
Haven laughed again.
“It’s licky,” Haven said to her friend, not taking her eyes from me and pointing in my direction.
“It’s what?” I asked. I didn’t understand what she’d said.
“What? Oh!” Her friend squealed. “Do you guys work together?” she asked.
“I’m Harry. Yes I’m at Rallegra with Haven.” I held out my hand and she shook it in an exaggerated greeting.
“This is Millie,” I said, pointing across the roof of the car, trying to be polite. Millie grimaced.
Haven threw her head back and laughed. “Don’t tell me that’s your car.”
“What?” I asked.
“You’re such a fucking cliché, Harry.”
I winced slightly. Most of the time I loved my car, but every now and then it felt like I shouldn’t own it. Cars like that weren’t meant to be owned by a cop’s kid from Chicago. Haven’s reaction was like salt in that particular wound.
“A hot cliché, though,” her friend said.
They both started laughing again. I could count on the fingers of one hand how many times I’d seen Haven smile, let alone laugh. Drunk Haven seemed much more fun than uptight, work Haven. The laugh brought her to life and she became all the more beautiful.
“Bye, Millie,” Haven shouted as she ran off down the road, her friend trailing behind as I watched.
“Baby, can you get me in this fucking car? I’m freezing,” Millie said.
I unlocked the car. “Do you know those girls?”
I nodded and smiled. “I know the one with the long blonde hair.”
“If that’s what working does to you, I’m pleased I don’t do it.”
I cringed at her reaction. Despite all the effort that Millie had gone to tonight with her appearance, Haven in her pajamas, laughing with windswept hair trumped her hands down. The night was nearly over and so were we. I couldn’t understand how we’d been dating for three months. We had nothing in common. I wouldn’t tell her tonight, I’d wait until she was sober.
Seeing Millie and Haven together, right in front of me, my feelings or lack thereof for Millie became all the more pronounced. I realized I liked verbally sparring with Haven more than I liked having sex with Millie.