by Mandy Baggot
‘What?’ Susie leapt back off the seat, Guggenheim hair wobbling precariously.
‘Stop! Susie! Slow down, your hair might collapse!’
‘Johnny Warren will be collapsing when I’m finished with him. That bastard! That bastard who will never get the benefit of my highlighting cap ever again!’
‘He has his hair highlighted?’ Lara asked.
‘Sorry, but customer confidentiality comes second to my best friend being attacked on social media! You should report the comment.’
‘It’s not that bad.’
‘It is that bad!’
‘It wasn’t directly directed at me.’
‘I know but—’
‘Susie, honestly, it’s fine.’
‘It’s so not fine!’
‘Listen,’ Lara took hold of Susie’s hand. ‘I can’t deal with anything while I’m here. He asked for space. I gave it to him. He made himself single. I can’t stop that. I just need to stop looking at what he’s doing and focus on what we’re doing.’ She paused. ‘What I’m doing.’
‘Is that what your horoscope says?’ Susie asked seriously.
‘No, it’s the new law according to Lara Weeks.’ She straightened herself up, unfolding her legs and planting her feet on the floor. ‘And I’m not staying in while you go to the hair show. I’m going to a French restaurant. With Seth.’
Susie clapped her hands to the side of her face, looking as astounded as someone who had just been told that black was the new black. ‘A date! You’re going on a date!’
‘It’s not a date,’ Lara said immediately.
‘It’s a French restaurant! That says “date” to me.’
‘I’m not single,’ Lara reminded her.
‘Dan says he is,’ Susie countered, adopting a cross-looking expression.
‘Seth might not be single either,’ Lara answered. Did Seth have a girlfriend? She didn’t know. She hadn’t asked. What sort of a sightseeing companion had she been if she didn’t even know the basics about him! Although she did know he was a Gemini.
‘He doesn’t,’ Susie informed her, sounding like an authority of Seth’s status. ‘He broke up with someone last year but even that didn’t appear to be serious. She’s some neutron shake fanatic. Does some of that weird body toning stuff with kettle bells and hula hoops … not the crisps.’
‘He said he wasn’t keen on sports, but he did say he runs,’ Lara remarked, recalling their earlier conversation.
‘There we go. Not compatible with Little Miss Raw Food.’
‘It’s just dinner and he wants to impress some casting director who’s going to eat there.’
‘OMG, he’s involving you in his life.’
‘I think I’m a prop, so he isn’t eating on his own if the guy doesn’t turn up.’
‘A prop who’s going to eat fancy French cuisine with Dr Mike.’
‘If you weren’t wearing a famous New York museum on your head I’d trade places and style it out with David at the hair show.’
Susie grinned. ‘No, you would not.’
‘No, you’re right,’ Lara agreed. ‘But can you please help me? I’ve looked at the menu and I’m trying to find the least fancy thing there is because you know, for me, fancy is having mustard on my hot dogs instead of ketchup.’
Susie laughed and came back to sit down. ‘Come on, Lara. This is your first trip anywhere. Live a little!’
‘I am.’ She swallowed. ‘I’m trying … just not with Mussolini.’
‘What?’
Lara clicked onto Safari and showed Susie her phone, displaying the menu choices for Cafe Cluny.
‘God! You’re going to Cafe Cluny?!’ Susie exclaimed. ‘Now I really might have to reconsider the hair show.’
‘You want to nosh Mussolini that badly?’ Lara asked, still none the wiser.
‘No, but this restaurant … loads of celebrities go there. Bradley Cooper’s even been there several times.’
‘Really?’ Lara said.
‘Really,’ Susie said, eyes excited. ‘And mousseline is just a light sauce. The chicken sounds great. And you really like chicken.’
‘Do you think I should get changed?’ Lara pulled at her Ramones sweater.
‘What?’ Susie exclaimed. ‘Yes! Yes, I do think you should get changed! Bradley Cooper might be there and you’re on a date with Seth Hunt! Come on! Before David’s bounding in here like an excited giraffe and I have to go!’
‘It’s not a date,’ Lara reminded, as much for her own sake as for Susie’s.
Twenty-Eight
Cafe Cluny, West 12th Street
Seth was nervous. Stupid nervous. This wasn’t an audition. This was dinner. And a cleverly contrived meeting. He had to be himself. He had to be articulate in getting over how much he wanted this role. He wasn’t going to sound desperate or needy. His bank balance was a pinch above desperate and needy … just. He was going to sound positive and impassioned …
‘Stupid, bloody tights! Argh! What is the point of you?! If a woman was supposed to have nylon over her legs, then surely we would have evolved that way!’
Across the street, pounding through the inch of snow on the sidewalk was Lara, her hands on her thighs, fingers pulling at their covering. She was still wearing her Dr Martens boots and that inadequate-looking short jacket, but the jeans were gone, instead the edge of a skirt was just about visible. Her way was lit by Christmas lights from neighbouring buildings and she almost walked into a rotund Santa ringing a bell and carrying a charity bucket. Seth was suddenly smiling on the inside, all anxiety forgotten. And then he remembered what Trent had texted him earlier.
I tweeted some #LemurGirl stuff today. Be good if you could hook up with her again while you’re still hot and she’s desperately seeking a distraction. Get some photos of you looking cute together? Cute but just good friends. The Ellen Show laps that stuff up. I’m thinking – Dr Mike heals Lemur Girl’s broken heart. Let me know how The Hoff went. Are we expecting a call-back?
He hadn’t mentioned meeting Lara for sightseeing and, as Trent hadn’t been at the apartment when he’d got back earlier, he hadn’t seen him to say he was also meeting her tonight. He wasn’t on board with working angles at all.
‘Lara!’ Seth called, waving a hand.
As much as she hated the tights, at that moment, when Lara looked up, she was instantly glad Susie had made her change clothes. Seth looked good enough to be modelling in a hair show: long dark woollen coat, black trousers and leather shoes, his ebony hair, flecked with snow, bouncing over his forehead a little. He was wearing glasses, just plain black frames, but they were the type that made sexy people look ever sexier. He was so good-looking. And she was learning he was nice too, really nice, and funny and … absolutely not to be thought of in any of those ways when she was committed to Dan. No matter how uncommitted Dan seemed to be to her at the moment.
What was wrong with her? She had to stop focusing on her gorgeous companion and her heartache and remember she was here in NYC spreading her wings, being independent, untied from Appleshaw. The restaurant looked cosy as well as upmarket. Its exterior all cream-coloured paint and large windows, snow-speckled wooden benches on the pavement and a trio of miniature Christmas trees bearing white lights. It fitted perfectly with the whole West Village vibe she had experienced walking from the subway. Here the streets were chic and slightly leafier than anything Midtown had had to offer. There were uber-cool bars and high-end shops mixing with cosy coffee houses and intimate bistros. Parts of it looked like they were sets from a movie.
‘Do the French wear tights?’ Lara asked quickly, hands pulling at the hem of her skirt. ‘Because I know it’s really cold and everything, but I think I might be allergic to elastane. I need to get them off.’
‘I’m not sure,’ Seth answered.
‘If I should take them off? Or if the French wear tights?’ Lara asked.
‘Both?’ Seth said. ‘What exactly are “tights”?’
Lara pressed her f
ace up against the glass panes of the door of Cafe Cluny, her breath misting up the window as she observed the interior. It looked so beautiful: ornate cornices, their décor lit by uplighters; fawn-coloured curtains with swags making them bunch and billow in all the right places; matching blinds halfway down the windows and lights that hung down low over tables. There weren’t many vacant seats.
‘Are you OK?’ Seth asked.
‘I’m seeing who else is wearing tights … I mean “pantyhose”.’ She took a breath. ‘I don’t believe I just said that.’
‘Well, hopefully none of the men, unless they’re ballet dancers,’ Seth answered. ‘Lara, I doubt there is anyone here who’s French or anyone who cares whether you are wearing hose or not.’
‘Really?’ she said, looking back at him. ‘Not even the chef? Being French, I mean … not caring if I wear … the things we call a different name.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Susie said Bradley Cooper comes here.’
‘If Bradley Cooper’s gonna get under the table and look at your hose then I might have something to say about that.’
Lara’s breath caught in her chest for a second as his eyes met hers. He was so close, looking so fine and he was going to challenge Bradley Cooper should the other actor be interested in her itchy undergarments. She wasn’t single. She was not single. She laughed quickly. ‘Sorry! To be honest I don’t even think Bradley Cooper is all that.’
‘No?’ Seth asked. ‘You didn’t tweet him as well as Tom Hardy?’
‘Are you ever going to forgive me for that?’
‘I might make you eat frogs’ legs as a penance,’ Seth answered.
‘I could manage Mussolini.’
‘What?’
Lara smiled and shook her head. ‘Never mind. Can we go in?’
‘And meet all the New York French people?’ Seth asked. ‘I can’t wait.’
Lara slapped his arm. ‘I haven’t been to a French restaurant before. Don’t make fun of me.’
‘Ow!’ Seth said, clutching his sleeve. ‘With a hit like that I wouldn’t dare.’
‘Do you think the guy you want to charm is here yet?’ Lara asked in a whisper.
‘He has a reservation at eight.’ Seth pushed open the door of the restaurant.
‘And do you know what he looks like?’
‘Yes,’ Seth replied. ‘I’ve already auditioned for him. A few times, for different roles.’
‘But if he knows you already then he should know how good you are.’
‘I keep telling you I’m really not that famous,’ Seth said, smiling as a waiter came to meet them. ‘He probably doesn’t remember me at all.’
‘Come on!’ Lara exclaimed. ‘Everyone watched Manhattan Med.’
‘They really didn’t … Hi, I have a table booked in the name “Hunt”.’
‘Right this way, sir,’ the waiter answered.
‘What’s the name of the guy?’ Lara asked in hushed tones. The tights were still driving her mad. It was like being in a straitjacket for your thighs.
‘Toby Jackson,’ Seth told her.
Lara turned to the waiter, guiding them into the hub of the restaurant. ‘Where is Toby Jackson going to be sitting?’
‘I’m not …’ the waiter began, looking a little bemused.
‘Can we have a table with a good view of Toby Jackson, please? So if, say, Toby Jackson was sitting here …’ She indicated a table for two by the wall. ‘Then could we be sitting here?’ She pointed to the only vacant table by the fairy-light-encircled window. ‘I believe he has a reservation later.’
‘Lara …’ Seth began.
Lara smiled at the waiter then pointed to the table by the window. ‘Can we sit here? And … could you put Toby Jackson over there?’ She pointed to the vacant table by the wall. ‘Please.’
‘Well …’ the waiter started.
‘If you could,’ Lara said. ‘Then we will both sign a menu or something for you at the end of the night. This is Seth Hunt, you know.’ She lowered her voice but put more emphasis into his name. ‘Seth Hunt … you know, Dr Mike from Manhattan Med. And I’m Lemur Girl. I got up a tree at Central Park Zoo.’ She moved towards the table by the window. ‘Here is OK, isn’t it?’
The waiter smiled. ‘Absolutely.’
‘Thank you,’ Lara said, putting a hand on the back of the chair.
Seth joined her, taking ownership of her chair and pulling it out for her while shaking his head a little, an amused expression on his face.
‘Did you want to sit here?’ Lara asked him.
‘No, Lemur Girl, I’m pulling it out for you, you know, being a gentleman.’ He paused then whispered. ‘Like the movies.’
‘Why, thank you,’ she answered, dropping down into the seat and unzipping her jacket. The view of the street was fantastic. The slight wind was making the trickle of snow dance around in the dark, tickling streetlamps and passers-by in turn. Christmas decorations glowed from awnings and a group of small children were collating a pile of snowballs while their mothers chatted on the corner of the block. She turned her head back to the room. ‘We should get the waiter to take our photo.’
‘Absolutely,’ Seth replied. ‘But let’s give him a break first and maybe order some wine?’
‘Or beer,’ Lara said, smiling. ‘In a little European glass.’
Twenty-Nine
Lara sipped at her glass of red wine and let the warm, honey, vanilla and cranberry notes coat her taste buds. She had had a beer and that had been nice too, but in the spirit of trying things she wouldn’t ordinarily try they had moved onto wine. And, after a delectable starter of something called Hamachi Crudo, made from mushrooms with a tomato jam, and the chicken breast, with the now infamous mousseline, it was getting on towards nine o’ clock.
‘The wine is really lovely,’ Lara commented, putting her arm down and trying to conceal the fact she had looked at her watch. ‘I don’t know, “lovely” doesn’t seem to be enough of a word. Let me think of something better than “lovely”. Um. Delicious. No, that really should relate to food not drink. Sumptuous. No, that’s not right. Divine. Yes, it’s—’
‘Lara,’ Seth interrupted, his big brown eyes looking at her through the sexy glasses.
‘Mmm,’ she said, sipping more of the liquid in her glass. ‘Divine wine.’
‘I know it’s nine.’
She let go of a sigh. ‘You saw me look at my watch, didn’t you? I’m sorry. I’m really enjoying myself, but I just want the guy to turn up and sit where I’ve placed him, so you can grab that role.’
‘This happens,’ Seth said with a shrug. ‘People make reservations, they change their mind, they get ill, the babysitter doesn’t come. It’s all good.’
‘It’s annoying.’
‘It’s New York,’ Seth reminded her.
‘It’s rude to not turn up,’ Lara said. ‘Unless he’s phoned to cancel.’ She turned in her chair, seeking out their waiter. ‘Shall I call our waiter and ask if he’s phoned to cancel.’
‘No,’ Seth said. ‘It’s fine, honestly.’ He took a breath, then moved his hand to the pocket of his trousers.
Seth drew out the photo his mom had given him at the centre earlier and placed it on the table, next to bottle of wine between them. He pushed it towards Lara and watched as she picked it up.
‘That is my real mom.’ He picked up his glass. ‘The one on the left.’
‘Wow,’ Lara said, eyes on the picture in her hand. ‘She’s so pretty … not that she wouldn’t be, because you’ve got really good DNA and … Susie would say she has really nice hair.’
He smiled. ‘She does have good hair, doesn’t she?’
‘Kossy has good hair too,’ Lara remarked. ‘I would never have known your hair didn’t come from her hair.’
‘No,’ he agreed.
‘She looks happy,’ Lara continued. ‘And she’s wearing a great dress.’
‘Without pantyhose, I think,’ Seth said.
‘Well, it looks like this photo was taken
in the summer and it would be a lot hotter than December. No need for tights.’
‘Why do you think the photo was taken in the summer?’
‘The windows in the background are wide open,’ Lara remarked.
He leaned forward a little as she showed him the photo again. She was right. Why hadn’t he noticed that? He had been staring at the photo since he’d got it but apparently missing all the details. Did it matter what time of year it was taken? How was that going to lead to him knowing more about the woman depicted in it?
‘She was a prostitute,’ Seth said bluntly.
‘Wow,’ Lara said, almost as if he had just told her his mother used to be President of the United States. ‘Well, as I said to Felice earlier, at least she was doing something.’
‘What?’
‘Well, she was working for a living, despite having nowhere of her own to live. She was obviously doing everything she could to try and get out of her situation.’
He hadn’t thought about it that way. To him, prostitution had meant ‘dirty’ and ‘trash’. Right then he felt his soul couldn’t get any more presumptuous or ugly. Who did he think he was, sitting on his middle-class throne?
‘What’s her name?’ Lara enquired.
‘Candice,’ Seth said. ‘Candice Garcia.’
‘Have you looked her up on Facebook?’
‘What?’ His heart sped up ten-fold. He hadn’t even thought about that. Why hadn’t he? Because he wasn’t ready to pursue it? Because he wasn’t ready to even think about pursuing it?
‘That’s what I would do. I mean, there might be thousands of Candice Garcias, but one of them might be your mum.’
‘I …’ He didn’t know what to say. Lara was right. She was absolutely right. His birth mother could literally be one click away. Maybe even still here in New York. And that thought was making him feel sick. His mouth went suddenly, terribly dry.
‘I thought about finding my mother once,’ Lara said wistfully.
‘You still don’t know where she is?’ Seth asked.
She shook her head. ‘I told you she left. I was six.’
‘So, did your parents divorce?’
