‘You’re saying no?’ It was incredible, considering all the signals she had been sending out.
‘Yep.’ The cold blue eyes stared into his own, much darker ones. ‘Sorry,’ she said again.
Stunned at the rejection, Peter muttered something about Eva taking the characteristics of his sister. ‘This programme is about sex, not love, remember?’
‘Funny,’ Eva said as she walked away. ‘I never saw it that way.’
‘Peter, news is over, you’re back on in ten seconds.’
And Peter had no option but to go back to work.
Feeling like total and utter shit.
Henri and Raelene finished the programme on a high. Johnny immediately snatched up his mobile and called the first caller, Missy, to arrange a date.
‘Fucking A, great concept,’ he told them.
The girls smiled at each other.
‘Fluke, hah?’
‘And Peter calling up – that just guaranteed us some space in next month’s TalkItUp.’ Clapping her hands in that childlike way, again, Raelene suddenly noticed someone standing at the door.
Jess.
With a pizza.
Henri’s stomach leapt; and although she hadn’t eaten in ages, it had nothing to do with the delicious smell coming from the flat box in Jess’s hands.
‘Thought you guys might want to celebrate? We were all listening at work tonight. Amazing.’
Amazing. Good word for describing how Jess looked. The broodiness was toned down tonight, because he was wearing a white tee and jeans. Very James Dean, Henri decided.
And then remembered whose boyfriend he was.
‘Look, I’m exhausted, I’ll leave you two to it.’
‘You sure?’ Raelene looked at her oddly. ‘Let’s celebrate?’
But Henri couldn’t bear the idea of being a third wheel. ‘No, sorry, I am so knackered. Perhaps another time.’
‘Next Friday’s show?’ Raelene grinned. ‘Tell your brother we’ll be expecting his call.’
Which reminded her: Peter. God, what was he thinking? In spite of being really annoyed at him, Henri worried that her brother was losing it again, like he did in London.
Perhaps she’d call him when she got home. Tell him to sort himself out.
After all, she had nothing else to do.
Once again.
‘See you Henri,’ Jess called, as she gathered the assortment of personal stuff she had brought from the house: cardigan, purse, deodorant, extra water – the usual show stuff.
‘Oh, see you, Jess.’
But she didn’t look back at him.
It was too painful.
Even though there was no reason it should be.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
HENRI CALLED PETER BUT HE was not picking up. Why did she bother? Leaving a message that was both polite (‘hope you’re okay’) and threatening (‘but don’t you try to ruin Raelene’s station with petty games’), she told Peter that if he came to his senses and began behaving in a manner befitting an adult, they could talk. Otherwise, he should stop butting into her life and leave her alone.
Next she called her parents in London, ignoring the fact that it was in the early hours of the morning, to fill them on the tragedy of the night’s events (for Peter, obviously), and to see if they had heard from him.
‘Nothing, darling. Do you think we should be worried?’
‘He is going a little nuts. All that money and adoration, it’s just like before. Bound to go to his head again.’
‘That was last year, Henrietta. I’m sure the experience has matured him.’
‘Cheese matures. Peter Prime doesn’t.’
‘Darling, make sure he is alright, will you?’
‘With a million dollar contract and a syndicated show, I think he’s fine. I, on the other hand . . .’
‘Please?’ her mother begged.
Fine, Henri would do the sisterly thing; but she couldn’t be there to monitor his alcohol and food intake all the time, could she.
‘Just tell him to leave the new show alone, if you hear from him.’
As usual, it continued to be all about Peter: ‘Henri, be nice, if he calls. Please? Remember what he is like.’
‘A nutter. I know.’
‘Henrietta!’
‘Fine, fine. I’ll try not to tell him to go jump, but it won’t be easy.’
The next day, Peter returned the call.
‘So rude, little sis.’
‘Who, you? I know it. So do a hell of a lot of radio listeners.’
‘That’s what they pay me for.’
‘Right, clearly you are going to continue being–’
‘No, no. You’re right. I’m wrong. Come and see me. Nice, yummy dinner tomorrow night. I’ll pay.’
Because he suddenly switched to a more conciliatory mode, and because it was a date (of sorts) for Saturday night and she had absolutely nothing to do - except imagine what Raelene and Jess were up to, Henri decided to give him a break.
‘Dinner. And you don’t get drunk.’
‘Dinner and coffee and ice cream after and I get a little drunk.’
‘Peter!’
‘Fine, fine. I agree. Two glasses, max.’
‘Wine, not spirits.’
‘Yes, mum.’
‘Hanging up now . . .’
‘No, don’t. Alright, two Merlots. That’s it.’
‘Good. What time?’
‘I’ll send a car.’
‘No need. I can take the subway.’
Her brother laughed. ‘Little Miss Hampstead on the choos choos? You’re kidding, right?’
God, he wasn’t at all sorry for what he had done.
‘No, actually. I quite like the anonymity of it all.’
‘Well, you can’t catch a train, because I want to have dinner with you in L.A.’
‘What? Are you crazy?’
‘No, I have to go there for a week. Tonight. On the MNC jet. And I miss you sis. I need to talk to you.’
‘About what, exactly?’
‘Um, life in general.’
‘You think I am going to fly all the way out to L.A. to be subjected to more of your profanity close-up?’
‘Come on, that’s the callers. I try to keep things on the straight and narrow.’
‘You liar. You do not.’
‘And how would you know?’
Henri wasn’t about to admit she listened most nights. Because she had absolutely nothing to do.
And she certainly wasn’t about to discuss that awful call from Rodney.
‘I don’t know. I have a show to do here.’
‘Yeah, Garbage 19.98.’
‘Garage. As you well know.’
‘Come for a couple of days. I’ll pay for a proper room and everything. And I promise not to get drunk and tweak the bosoms of unsuspecting, would-be actresses. Well, not in front of you, at any rate.’
‘Sounding better all the time, Pete.’ She hoped the sarcasm was clear enough.
‘Please, Henri. I need you. I miss you. I’ve got no one.’
‘Surely there are numerous bimbos who would be happy to keep you company in L.A.?’
Peter was quiet.
Hmm.
Now he was feeling sorry for himself, not a good sign.
Sighing so deeply she got a head rush, Henri said: ‘Fine, what time tomorrow?’
‘Noon. I’ll send a car.’
Raelene was packing up the assorted cups and crisp packets after the breakfast show the next morning when Henri popped her head into the studio told her she had a date with the devil.
‘Oh, I wouldn’t call him a devil? Did us a huge favor, calling up like that. The PR has been incredible.’
‘Hah?’ Were they talking about the same person. ‘He’s not exactly a white knight, is he?’
‘Kind of cute, though? Cuddly. His looks, I mean, not his personality. I think Jess wanted to punch him.’
Raelene seemed to be personally acquainted with Peter. �
�You’ve both met him?’
‘Came looking for you about a week ago. Was checking out the studio. I figured Jess would have told you.’
‘Jess and I don’t talk much.’
Unfortunately.
‘Yeah, Peter said the studio was cool. Said I should find it easy to get some ad sponsorship, with the set up I had. It was around the time I got the offer from TheRightStuff.’
Suddenly, it all made sense. Peter was trying to lure Henri back to Ten Reasons at MNC, and after the Rodney call didn’t work out for him he figured humiliation in a small garage studio in Queens might just do it.
So he set Raelene up with some bogus sponsorship deal.
Bastard!
‘That brother of mine,’ Henri said through clenched teeth. ‘I am going to kill him.’
‘How come? He did us a favor tonight, remember?’ Rae repeated.
‘Because he is an evil prat.’
‘Who, Jess?’
‘No, Peter. Jess is, well, not really more than an acquaintance, you don’t need to worry.’
Her friend looked puzzled. ‘Why would I worry?’
‘You guys are going out, aren’t you?’
‘Me and Jess? No way!’
‘But that day, you were wearing his shirt . . .’
‘I stayed the night because we worked late at the pizza place and some guy who has the hots for me was waiting outside and I got spooked. I slept in his bed, he slept on the couch.’
‘Oh.’ Henri felt like a right idiot.
‘Besides, he’s not into me. Believe me, I’ve tried.’
‘I find that hard to believe.’ I looked pointedly at her gorgeous face and ran my eyes deliberately along pert body encased in the tightest blue jeans and tee known to man. ‘How come someone so small had such impressive bust measurements, anyway?’
‘Mum has huge breasts, haven’t you noticed.’
Henri laughed. ‘I don’t usually spend my spare time perving at my friend’s mothers.’
‘Look, forget me. Jess is into you.’
‘Not true, Rae. He can’t stand the sight of me.’
Raelene tut-tutted her. ‘Don’t you know anything about guys? He’s just acting like that for protection, in case you don’t feel the same way.’
‘What? Oh, I don’t think so.’
‘I know so.’ Raelene took her hand. ‘Let’s go to the pizza place, I am going to sort you two out once and for all. If you start whining about him the same way he whines about you, I might have to beg a job over at MNC from your brother.’
‘No, Raelene, you’ve got it wrong. Really, he’s had plenty of chances to approach me. We live in the same house, remember. I can’t go and humiliate myself where he works.’
‘Will you just trust me? I trusted you about the show, didn’t I? Now it’s your turn.’ Pulling Henri off her chair, corkscrew curls flying, Raelene dragged them both to the door.
‘Alright, alright, I’m coming. Just let me go and check my makeup.’
‘Jess doesn’t like girls who wear too much makeup, you look fine.’
‘Really?’ That didn’t bode well for the new and improved Henri, who was dolling herself up in increasing degrees to impress Jess.
No wonder he didn’t dare approach her. Probably thought she was on the game.
‘Yep. Something to do with Harvard.’
Makeup and Harvard? The plot thickens. The two of them left the garage, waving at Johnny, who was taking the next shift until four with his new girlfriend from the radio, Missy. They did something together called ‘Rad Luv Tunes’.
As you do.
‘Rae, I am really, really scared. I don’t think I can let you do this.’ She was supposed to get in the car that was, in all probability, waiting at the curb near the Calinkos, for the flight to L.A. Hah! Given what Henri had just discovered, there was no way she was spending any time with her brother in the foreseeable future.
The two girls were now on the pavement. ‘Look, you are one of the bravest people I know. You give up something huge because of your principals; you bear the horrible nutters at bingo; you even risk your professional career to do a show from a garage in Queens. Let’s face it, Henri. Being scared of Jess is pointless for someone like you.’
‘When it comes to love, I am a total loser. I don’t know what to do. In fact, Johnny looks like Richard Gere compared with me.’
‘Wow, with analogies like that, you are in desperate need.’
‘Desperate need? Of what?’
‘A proper boyfriend.’ She winked so that Henri was clear that the word ‘boyfriend’ was a euphemism for something else. ‘Now let’s go.’
Peter tried Eva for the fifth time, on his way to the airport. Having sent the car provided for him to get Henri, he had been forced into a taxi, and the driver, looking disapprovingly at his bulk and the hipflask protruding from the upper pocket of his tan blazer, was doing his best to make sure Peter arrived feeling as sick as a dog.
They were passing the Upper East Side, just about to enter to Bronx, when Peter had idea.
A surprise home visit.
To see Eva.
She lived somewhere around here – he had the address in some email in his BlackBerry, from back when she was trying to entice him into her boudoir, in those halcyon days before she turned the tables on him.
Second date, my fucking arse! Why did he feel so crap that he couldn’t see Eva? This couldn’t be . . . No. Not possible.
Peter Prime couldn’t be in love.
He didn’t do love.
It was just a sex thing. She was hot, and he was half-pissed and horny.
A booty call was all it was.
A booty call before the airport. It was only ten, he had time. After all, it wasn’t as if he was on scheduled flight or anything. And Henri could wait a few minutes, couldn’t she?
He buzzed, holding the flowers he had managed to find from a street seller who, from the piercings and tattoos, looked as if he also sold weed Downtown in the evenings.
‘Yes?’
‘Eva?’
‘Peter?’
‘Aren’t you supposed to be on your way to L.A.?’
‘I need to see you. Come on, you know you want to.’
‘Peter, I told you before, I don’t.’
Desperation welled up inside him. What the fuck was this feeling? What was this awful need to stand here, continue this conversation? Even though every minute it went on was another minute of humiliation.
Especially as the taxi driver was watching him with undisguised amusement from the car parked at the curb.
‘Look, I’m not sure about, well, these sorts of things.’ Eyeballing the intercom system was bloody shameful, especially as two kids had poked their heads out of the nearby window and were pointing and laughing at his gut.
‘Well, I am. I told you, I am not into one-night stands.’
‘You were before . . .’ Peter tried to sound blustery and coy; jokey.
It didn’t work. Eva’s voice was like ice.
‘Actually, I wasn’t.’
‘What?’
‘Look, let’s just say we are different people. I am a normal woman, looking for a relationship. You are on a permanent stag night.’
‘Eve, come on . . .’
‘Goodbye Peter, see you in a week.’
The intercom clicked off.
Shit.
Fuck.
Bloody hell.
Peter turned and dragged himself back down to the cab.
‘No boxy call?’ The driver asked, a happy grin permeating his flat features.
‘It’s a booty call, and no.’
‘Shame,’ the man said. ‘We ugly men need it, once in a while, hah?’
Closing his eyes, Peter counted slowly to ten to stop himself from strangling the chirpy cabbie. Then he thanked God he was meeting Henri soon.
His sister would cheer him up.
Make him feel better about Eva and the rejection.
About every
thing.
Especially when she agreed to come back to him.
And she would come back to him.
She always did.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
SHE COULD SEE THE CAR SITTING by the curb as they approached the house. Henri told Rae it would just be a minute.
‘Hurry up, his shift finishes soon.’
The Revenge Date/Ten Reasons to Say I Don't Bundle (Romantic Comedy) Page 23
