A Funny Thing About Love

by Rebecca Farnworth

  Will studied her, a sceptical expression on his ruggedly handsome face. ‘What’s his name? Maybe it’s someone I’ve seen? Although if he’s agoraphobic I’m guessing he’s not big on doing live gigs.’

  Rats! Why had she said that? ‘Oh, did I say agoraphobic? I meant arachnophobic. Apparently at this time of year there are lots of spiders at large, which is why he prefers to stay at home in his spider-free zone.’ She felt pleased with herself for thinking on her feet.

  ‘His name, Carmen?’ Will asked, a slight twitch to his mouth betraying that he did not believe her. ‘And if I’ve seen him we could compare notes. You know two heads are always better than one.’

  Oh God, her head hurt too much to be able to lie convincingly. She decided to drop all pretence. ‘Actually, Will, I’m just late because I’m late.’

  ‘Night on the tiles with some guy?’ Will asked. ‘I wondered why you had that sexy, husky voice, redolent of a hangover and not going to bed until the early hours.’

  ‘Maybe . . .’ Carmen decided to play him, just a little, rather pleased that he thought her hangover voice was sexy. ‘Actually, I’m completely shagged.’ Big emphasis on shagged.

  Will rearranged the folders on his desk. Was he bothered? It was hard to tell with the banter they’d built up. ‘I thought you said you weren’t seeing anyone, needed space, that kind of bollocks.’

  Hmm, maybe he was a teeny tiny bit bothered. ‘Well, let’s just say I found a window. Anyway, must dash.’ She swung her bag over her shoulder, ready to saunter off.

  ‘And I can’t believe you’ve forgotten what day it is.’ Will was glaring at her now. ‘If I was you I would have my hands on my hips, a petulant curl to my lip, and be stamping my little red-Converse-shod feet.’

  The woolly fog got denser. What on earth was Will going on about? Then her eye fell on the birthday cards fighting for space on his desk. Oops! She’d known there was something she needed to remember this morning. She foraged in her bag again, having a vague recollection that last night, before she’d fallen into the abyss of oblivion, she had managed to put in Will’s present and card.

  ‘Ta da!’ she declared, pulling them out. ‘As if I would forget! Celebrating you getting even older has been one of the highlights of my social diary. Remind me how old you are again? Was it thirty-six? In four years’ time it will be the big one! Have you planned your midlife crisis yet? I’m thinking a Harley-Davidson motorbike and red leathers for you.’

  Ow! That diatribe had caused her head to throb outrageously. God knew how many little grey cells had been consigned to dust last night. She had visions of her cranium being littered with miniature grey crosses to mark their demise. And they would never be replaced, even if she took up Sudoku as her dad was always urging her to do.

  Will pursed his lips fractionally. ‘I’m thirty-five, let me remind you. And people in glass houses on the wrong side of thirty – thirty-four if I remember rightly – are in no position for stone throwing.’

  Touché. ‘I’m thirty-three!’ Carmen hissed back.

  ‘Whatever. Either way, sweetie, you’ll never see twenty-nine again. You’re past your prime, but that’s okay. I like old birds.’

  Carmen found herself with her hands on her hips, a petulant curl to her lip, all ready to stamp her Converse-shod feet.

  ‘Anyway, what have you got me?’

  Carmen handed over the gift. She had actually spent ages agonising over what to buy Will. She knew he was a huge fan of Sinatra, so in the end she had bought a new biography of the singer, figuring he might not have it yet. First Will ripped open the card. She’d gone for a typically cheeky one of rodents dressed up as members of Abba, with a message alluding to his grand old age. Will rolled his eyes, then turned his attention to the present.

  For a few seconds after he had ripped off the paper to reveal the book, he was silent, then he looked up and said seriously, with no trace of flirty Will, ‘This is my best present. I’ve wanted to get this for ages. Thank you, Carmen.’

  ‘Well, I was going to get a year’s supply of Viagra online but thought you would appreciate this more, even though your lady friends might have appreciated the other.’

  ‘Miller, if only you knew. I have absolutely no need of any help in that department. I can be at it all night.’ At this he stood up and performed the kind of double macho hand gesture of exultation beloved of footballers when they score, at the exact moment that tiny, scary Tiana walked in.

  Carmen bit her lip to stop herself from giggling. The irony of Tiana being boss of an agency representing comics was that she herself was renowned for her absolute absence of a sense of humour. Her nickname behind her back was Comedy Bypass.

  ‘I was just telling Carmen about a stand-up routine I saw the other night,’ Will blustered.

  ‘It sounded hilarious!’ Carmen added helpfully. ‘All about a thirty-six-year-old man who can’t get it up.’ Okay, it wasn’t the funniest comeback ever, but it was the best she could muster in the hungover circumstances.

  Will scowled at her. But Tiana was busy emailing on her BlackBerry and barely registered them.

  ‘Anyway, Carmen, you are coming tonight, aren’t you? Drinks at the Ship and then dinner at Rico’s?’ Will had managed to compose himself enough to ask the question.

  ‘Yep, see you later.’

  Carmen tried to avoid being around her boss wherever possible and was all set to retire to the relative peace of her office when Tiana addressed her. ‘Oh, Carmen, can you drop by my office at one? I need to go through your appraisal with you.’

  Of all the days to go through this particular form of mental torture, today was without doubt the worst.

  ‘Sure, Tiana,’ Carmen said breezily and slunk off to her office. That had well and truly taken the shine off her flirty banter with Will.

  * * *

  Once in her office she collapsed on her chair and switched on her MacBook. She’d just drink her coffee before she faced the day’s barrage of emails. For about the hundredth time she wished she could open her window, but when Fox had taken over they’d insisted on a complete refit of the offices – hence the glass cages and the air con. Carmen had tried to personalise her cell with photos of friends, her collection of snow globes, ranging from the predictable New York skyline right through to a quirky family of meerkats; and hot-pink cherry blossom lights to counteract the harsh overhead lights, which were a friend to no woman. Still, it was pretty hard to make your mark on such a sterile environment.

  Carmen was about to tuck into her croissant when the phone rang. It was Trish, Tiana and Matthew’s PA, who ran the office, remembered everyone’s birthdays, did the expenses – in other words, was completely invaluable.

  ‘Hiya, Carmen, just to let you know that Karl Fraser has been on the phone. He wants to come and see you tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh no!’ Carmen groaned. ‘Couldn’t you have said I was on holiday?’

  ‘I said that last time he called.’

  ‘Gynaecological appointment?’

  ‘I said that the time before last.’

  ‘Funeral?’

  Trish tutted. ‘You really shouldn’t tempt fate like that, Carmen.’

  ‘Oh, I know. Thanks anyway, Trish.’ Carmen sighed and sipped her latte.

  Karl Fraser was her least favourite client. In fact he was one of her least favourite people. He was egotistical, and yes, that was only to be expected in a comic, all her clients were, but Karl took it to another level. He was monstrously egotistical. He was also a misogynist, mean and had bad breath. Possibly Carmen could have forgiven those three flaws, but for one thing. In her opinion, Karl actually wasn’t that funny. His humour was aggressive and laddish, like a punch in the face rather than a tickle in the ribs. Carmen adored clever performers like Eddie Izzard, Stewart Lee, Harry Hill and Bill Bailey, but Karl was so relentlessly cynical, charmless and crude. She had inherited him after he’d managed to alienate every other agent in the group and Tiana had ordered Carmen to take him
on, promising her a bonus if she did. Funnily enough, she had never had the bonus, but she’d had more than enough of Karl.

  She made inroads into her croissant and tried to push thoughts of noxious Karl out of her head as she wondered what fresh hell her appraisal would contain. Before Fox they hadn’t really had appraisals. It had been a pretty informal system, where Matthew decided who would get a bonus largely on the basis of who hadn’t had one the year before.

  She looked up as Lottie knocked on her door, walked in and flopped down on the chair opposite her. ‘Bloody bollocking hell!’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ve just been done over by Comedy Bypass.’ Lottie was another agent who, like Carmen, had been with Nicholson. She was in her late thirties but seemed younger, as she always looked as if she’d just been on a brisk country walk and had a constant healthy glow about her. She never wore make-up except the occasional flick of mascara. She had cropped, brownish-blonde hair, always wore jeans and white shirts, bit her nails, was gay and was also a fantastic agent.

  ‘Oh God!’ Carmen wailed. ‘If she gave you a hard time, what is mine going to be like? She’ll make mincemeat of me!’

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ Lottie replied, but both she and Carmen knew that was not true.

  ‘So what kinds of things did she say?’ Carmen asked tentatively, thinking forewarned was forearmed.

  ‘Oh, the usual crap about meeting targets, getting more clients, charging them more. Honestly, the woman knows nothing about comedy.’ Lottie shook her head and chewed a nail before changing the subject completely. ‘So I reckon tonight will be the night that you and Will get together.’

  ‘Lottie!’ Carmen was outraged. ‘No way is that going to happen, especially not in front of all you lot, who’ll be sitting there like a bunch of hyenas eyeballing our every move.’

  ‘So perhaps it will happen when we’ve all gone home,’ Lottie persisted. It was why she was such a damn fine agent, she was ruthless in pursuing a point.

  ‘No, it won’t! There is nothing going on between me and Will. We’re just friends.’

  Lottie let out a snort of laughter, ‘Come on, Carmen, there is so much suppressed lust between you two, I’m surprised you haven’t both combusted!’

  Carmen curled her lip. ‘I have no further comment to make.’

  ‘I think you’d be good together.’ Lottie was not going to give up. ‘You know that I didn’t like Will when I first met him, but I really like him now.’

  ‘Right, this is the last thing I’m going to say on the subject. I am not going to go there. He might even have a girlfriend for all I know.’

  ‘He hasn’t got a girlfriend. He split up with her four months ago. He’s ready for you, fully primed. A Ferrari waiting to be switched on, a panther ready to sprint, a—’

  Carmen cut across her. ‘Out, now,’ and pointed at the door. Reluctantly Lottie got up. She was almost out the door when Carmen called, ‘Wish me luck with my appraisal.’

  ‘Good luck, and don’t cry. Remember, Tiana thrives on weakness.’

  Carmen rolled her eyes by way of an answer.

  She tried cracking on with some work after that. She took a call from a producer interested in one of her acts and sent off a few emails, but she was really suffering from attention deficit disorder – first the hangover, then the appraisal, and then Will. She wouldn’t admit it to Lottie, but she was right, there was so much suppressed lust between her and Will. There had been from the first time they met, but both had been wary about going beyond flirtation. They had never even been for a drink together on their own, always with colleagues. The only time they were alone was in the office. But the truth was she knew she liked Will. Liked him very much. Fancied him like crazy, in fact.

  She looked at her watch. Five minutes before her encounter with Comedy Bypass. She pulled her makeup bag out and did a quick check. Hallelujah, praise the Lord for cosmetics, she thought as she registered that, despite having the hangover from hell, she didn’t look too bad all things considered, though her green eyes had a slightly world-weary air about them. Carmen had never been a woman for the natural look. She had decided aged eighteen that she would never leave the house without lipstick. She had worked her way through a rainbow of colours before deciding her favourite was red, or, to give it its proper name, Fire by Chanel. With the red lipstick she wore black eyeliner and lashings of mascara. She loved make-up, loved its transforming powers, loved the feeling that she could look like someone different today.

  Right now she really was wishing she could be someone different as she made her way along the corridor to Tiana’s office – say Lara Croft, who wouldn’t be intimidated by a passive-aggressive executive, although the leather catsuit would probably not be such a good look for size-twelve Carmen, making her more porn star than action heroine. Will was on the phone when she walked past him, but he gave her the thumbs up.

  Trish was on duty outside Tiana’s office, typing away at her computer. Carmen adored Trish. In her late twenties, she was a beautiful Ghanaian woman with the kindest, sweetest nature. The window ledge and filing cabinets surrounding her were covered in brightly coloured pots containing cacti of every shape and size – fleshy, star-shaped cacti, pointy cacti like the ones you always saw in westerns, and small, ball-shaped cacti, which looked furry rather than spiky. It was safe to say that Trish loved cacti.

  She gave her warmest smile when she saw Carmen, and Carmen caught a waft of uplifting geranium – Trish was a great believer in essential oils. ‘Hi, she’ll be a few minutes.’

  Typical mean boss tactic of Tiana to make her wait.

  Carmen shrugged. ‘You’re coming out tonight, aren’t you, Trish?’

  ‘Sure am!’ she replied, flicking back her long black hair which she’d just had braided. ‘Biscuit?’ She held out a tin of home-made shortbread. ‘Mum made it.’

  Carmen shook her head, while Trish popped one into her mouth. She caught Carmen looking at her and said guiltily, ‘Yes, I know I said I’d join Weight Watchers, but I’ve just been so busy organising all the appraisals that I haven’t had time.’ Trish was always making excuses. She’d been a size eighteen for as long as Carmen had known her, and she was permanently starting diets and abandoning them. The trouble was she still lived at home and her mum was forever feeding her comfort food.

  ‘Trish, I’m not judging you, but you did say you really wanted to this time. I’ll come with you to the sessions if you can find one near here.’

  ‘Okay, thanks. I would appreciate that, Carmen, though are you sure you won’t get lynched for being a size zero?’

  ‘I’m a size twelve, Trish.’

  ‘Oh, it’s just that you all seem so skinny to me.’ Trish looked sadly at her magnificent, ample figure which was threatening to spill out of the black wrap dress. At that moment her phone gave a single ring.

  ‘She’s ready for you. Have a quick whiff of this, it’s supposed to help you centre yourself.’ She thrust a small vial of tea tree, menthol and eucalyptus under Carmen’s nose, which smelt so strong it made Carmen’s eyes water. Damn it! She would look as if she was crying before Tiana even got started on her.

  Tiana’s office was at least five times the size of everyone else’s, with a pleasant view of London rooftops instead of the yard with bins and a motley crew of pigeons that comprised Carmen’s view. Tiana was sitting on one of the lilac leather sofas, looking like the model executive as she tapped daintily away on her BlackBerry. She looked up briefly. ‘Hello, Carmen, do take a seat?’

  Carmen had quite liked Australian accents until she met Tiana; now she wasn’t so sure. On the one hand there was her image of Australians, which tended to be on the clichéd side – happy-go-lucky, maybe a little worried about skin cancer but on the whole saying yes to life while having a barbie and cracking open the beer – and on the other there was Tiana with her passive-aggression. Every time she spoke with that Antipodean lift at the end of her sentences which suggested a question but actually was not, it set Carmen’s teeth on e
dge as much as someone raking their nails down a blackboard.

  She sat on the sofa opposite Tiana and shivered. Her boss always had the air con up to the max. Tiana continued tapping away on her BlackBerry. Carmen couldn’t recall ever seeing her without it – she was bound to be one of those people who slept with it under their pillow. She tried to cheer herself up by imagining Tiana in the throes of passion with her partner and hearing her BlackBerry ring. Faced with the choice of interrupting the passion or ignoring the call, Carmen reckoned coitus interruptus every time. She looked round the office, taking in the gigantic glass vase of white lilies and the flickering Diptyque candle on the desk, then looked back at her boss.

  Tiana had shoulder-length honey-blonde hair which was her pride and joy. Carmen knew from Trish that she had it blow-dried twice a week. Along with the salon-perfect hair, her nails were always immaculately French manicured. She favoured fitted jackets with pencil skirts to show off her trim figure. Navy or black were her preferred colours and she always wore killer heels. Today she was wearing a black suit and a pair of black patent Louboutins. Somehow that iconic red sole which Carmen had always adored looked menacing as Tiana uncrossed and recrossed her legs. She had the sudden image of Tiana walking all over her, the red of the soles mixing with Carmen’s blood. Oh God, stress really could do terrible things to a mind.

  Tiana finally dragged her eyes from her beloved BlackBerry and gave the briefest of smiles. ‘Before we get down to the nitty-gritty, how do you think these past months have been?’ Okay, that was a question, so she was allowed her Antipodean lift.

  ‘Well,’ Carmen began cautiously, ‘I would say that I’ve really been consolidating my relationship with my clients and finding new projects for them – in TV, radio and live gigs.’ She reeled off the names of several of her clients, outlining what work they were doing.

  ‘And what about any new clients?’ Okay, she was allowed the lift there as well.

  ‘There are two possibilities. Will is going to see them as well before we make a final decision.’