I rushed to speak again, instead of just watching. “Tristan, look, I’m sorry. I don’t know what this is about, but it’s your business. Ok?”
He nodded, and sat down opposite from me, and poured himself a cup of tea, which he drank from, before he began speaking again.
“Lily, this does have to do with you. Partially. And we need to talk. About London. About what’s going to happen.”
My stomach turned over. Oh god, this was it. Being discreet. At best. I crossed my arms over my chest and waited for his pronouncement. I tried to feel business like. The only difficulty, aside from his pained expression, was the feeling of the silken fabric of the robe over my bruised backside and swollen breasts. I shook my head. Show nothing. “Ok, let’s talk. What is going to happen? And who was that?”
He poured some more tea. A pro. He wouldn’t be rushed on this. He took a sip, and jumped up again. “Do you want something to eat? A bagel? Cereal?”
My stomach was one big knot. I couldn’t even pretend. “No, thanks, I’m good.” I hesitated. I didn’t want to push it, but something was wrong. Like ripping open the envelope with the bad news, I wanted it right away. “Tristan, just tell me. I’m a big girl.”
He began to smile, just slightly. “Are you?” He laughed. “Yeah, I guess so.” He coughed, and shrugged his shoulders. The waves of anger that had been pouring off him before seemed lessened now.
I braced myself. This couldn’t be good.
“Look, Lily, that was my manager.”
I nodded.
“I’m not going to insult your intelligence. You know how he is. He’s particularly prickly about the girls, seeing as we’ve had some near misses…expensive near misses.”
The girls. I closed my eyes for a moment. And now me. What kind of idiot was I?
“He’s attached to me. And the money. Of course.” He gave a hollow laugh. “Always the money.”
I managed to breathe again. “So? What does this mean for London?”
He looked back at me. “London. Yeah. Well, he didn’t want you there in the first place, although he gave in. Your piece has been the best, will be the best. He can’t ignore that.”
“So, London?” I tried to think of the slippery ladder of success.
His voice was all business now. “You’ll still do the piece, of course. That’s set up. The show is next week. You’re going out in a couple of days, now, I’m going out tonight.” He stopped. “We won’t see each other, except for a brief interview after the show. Of course, you’re invited and very welcome to the party afterwards. But…”
I finished his line for him. “But we don’t know each other.”
“But we don’t know each other.” He nodded, his lips pulled together in a thin grimace. He looked angry. But at what?
I tried to ignore the aching pain that was beginning to take hold of my entire body. This game was hard. I cursed my sensitive self, and not for the first time, wished I could just be a super bitch about everything. Fuck. It.
“Yeah, well, of course.” Was that me? Yes. I seemed to be angry. Where was this coming from? It was almost like there was a complete psychic break, and I was marveling at myself, whoever that was, speaking. “Of course,” I repeated. “You said we needed to be discreet. That you didn’t do the boyfriend/girlfriend thing. I remember.”
He looked at me.
“It’s your launch. There’s going to be people you need to see, be seen with.” I took a breath. There was a sort of burning in my chest. “It’s not my first time at the rodeo, however much you’re amusing yourself with the idea.” I looked away from him.
“Listen, Lily, it’s the timing, it’s just…”
I interrupted him. “Tristan, don’t apologize. I knew what this was. I’m enjoying it, so are you? Great.” I took a deep breath. “Look, you’re a nice guy. I’m sure. You’ve got my number, I have yours, the magazine will set up everything. Of course I’ll come to the after party. Can I bring a plus 1? There’s a lot of people I haven’t seen for a while in London, it’s a great chance to, um, hook up with them.”
Tristan sucked in his cheeks. And looked away. When he turned back to face me, his eyes were studying me. There were two lines on his forehead formed by him furrowing his brow. “Of course. Bring a couple. Bring who you like.” His voice was flat and low, without energy.
I stood up. “I’ve got to go, ok? I need to sort out some things before I leave.”
He nodded. “I’ll let you get your clothes.” And he stood, and walked off, slowly, towards the living room.
I ran back in the bedroom, and threw out what was left of my panties and while fastening my bra at whirlwind speed. I threw the dress around myself, and tied the belt. I ran my fingers through my hair, not really looking at myself. There was nothing there I wanted to see. And I walked back out of the bedroom, not looking back.
Tristan was in the living room, waiting.
I walked past him, avoiding looking at him. Just another trick, I kept thinking. Just another trick. I’m a whore, and he is just another…episode. My shoes were by the chair. The manager must have seen them. Of course he knew I was there. I slipped my feet into the cool leather, welcoming the extra height. I needed the power.
I could feel him watching me.
I turned towards him. He was silent. “My jacket?”
“Oh, right.” He loped up the three stairs to the closet, and pulled my leather jacket out, and held it up for me. I followed him and let him help me with it. He ran his hand down over my shoulder, down my arm, to my hand, and grasped my fingers. “Lily, listen…”
I looked at him. The burning feeling was getting worse. Just another trick. I pulled my hand away and put my finger on his lips. God, they were so soft. No.
“Tristan, don’t. It’s ok. Really.” And I kissed him, on the cheek, feeling his stubble under my lips. I breathed in, and closed my eyes. Just for a minute.
We stood there, not moving, not speaking.
I stepped away from him, and pressed the button for the lift. He was looking at me. I tried to look at my shoes, but I could feel his gaze. And I turned my face up to his. His eyes were dark, but not like before, and the shadows under them were pronounced. He looked tired, and beautiful. A little like the very first time I had seen him up close.
The lift door opened on the other side, and I went to get the door.
“I’ll get it.” And he flipped the locks and opened the door, leaned forward to move aside the cage door of the elevator. I quickly stepped away from him and inside. I pressed the button, and the door began closing. I looked at him, through the little glass porthole, and thought I heard him saying “see you in London.” I nodded at him, as he shut his front door and the lift began to move.
I held on to the brass railing with a death grip. Play the game.
And as the door opened to the lobby, I thought—there’s an audience. Let’s give them what they want. And I strutted through the lobby, past the handyman, caretaker, whatever the fuck he was, with the best imitation of high class whore I could manage. Available to anyone, anywhere, anytime—for the right price.
At least money was a hard limit.
Chapter 25
The cab ride home was a blur. I got into the flat, checked my messages, made a few calls. Drank some coffee. Wanted a nap, decided I would go to the gym and move around. My ass still hurt. Good. I needed the pain, obviously. A pain junkie. Great.
I ran a bit on the treadmill, lifted some weights. And suddenly felt utterly bored and pissed off, and left. I walked along Broadway for a while, then back down Columbus. I didn’t want to look at anyone; I just wanted to slip between them. And I realized that for once, I didn’t want to be invisible, I wanted the others to be the shadows. A backdrop. And to stay out of my way. A few people managed to move out of the fucking way before I elbowed them out of my path. Not like London.
London. My old home. Now about to be a scene of some painful humiliation that would earn my money for me to continue t
his shadow existence I seemed to be eking out of the sap of the world. Fine. I’d already put together a list of people I wanted to see. A couple of them would go to any party. I wasn’t even sure if they liked Tristan as a musician. Better still. There’d be a certain beauty in standing there, watching him, fucked up, listening to an old friend slag him off in the twang of the middle class London accent. Trying to be street, failing horribly the minute they opened their mouth. Ha fucking ha.
I saw a coffee shop, and decided to sit at a booth for a while, make some notes. At least I had been conscious enough to bring along my bag and the notebook. I ordered coffee, and thought about getting a grilled cheese. My stomach still felt hollow, but my mouth was dry. I had the impression any food would feel and taste like cardboard.
I could still feel the piercing sharpness of his slight stubble against my lips. I replaced it with the thick warm ceramic of the big coffee cup. Thank god for diner dishware. Some things at least didn’t fucking change. My lips felt hyper-sensitive; the cool smoothness of the white china contrasting with the hot black coffee. I suddenly put the cup down. I probably looked like I was making out with my cup. I took another quick sip, and opened my book and started making lists. In an hour, I could call London, and set up some appointments. I needed to interview that band too, the one with the annoying girl singer. I was tempted to invite them too, but I knew Tristan would be pissed off. I didn’t really want to piss him off. I wrote some more, doodled, ordered another coffee. Nothing seemed to matter.
I looked up at the big white clock over the stainless counter and red topped stools. Nearly 2pm. Close enough, I could call now. London. Who could I get to come with me? I needed someone really good looking. No. Yes. Better to see if Mark wanted to go. He and I were still fairly good friends. There was some history. He was cool. Not bad looking. Of course, nothing compared to Tristan, I thought. Shut up, I argued with myself, not helping. I wrote down his name. And Sarah and Nick. She was great. We all got on. It was a chance to see them. Come on. I got up and I paid for the coffee, and left, walking towards the park. Thinking.
Mark’s phone went to voice mail. His roughened upper class English smoker’s voice on the recording made me laugh. We hadn’t had sex in a long while, but his voice always made me remember why I’d wanted him.
Sarah’s voice mail kicked in too. Fuck. I left messages for each of them, telling them when I was coming in, the name of my hotel, and to call me. I didn’t mention the party, not yet. I really did want to see them, not just use them as my backup. They’d have fun, wouldn’t they? How long had it been, two, nearly three years since I’d been back?
It was starting to drizzle and I pulled my jacket closer to me, and zipped up my sweatshirt. I just wanted to walk, and walk, and not stop. I called the magazine and told Linda, the editor’s executive secretary that I’d be in tomorrow to collect the tickets and the final information. While she was talking, I heard voices in the background. They sounded oddly familiar. No, couldn’t be. What would he be doing there? I was obviously overwrought. Paranoia the next stop on that train.
Then she asked me to wait. Dave wanted to speak with me himself. And the phone went silent, then began playing some 80’s pop song. I hated being put on hold. Especially to Simply Red. I walked faster, trying to dodge raindrops. Why was I doing business in the park? What next?
She came back on. “Hold for Mr. Fanning.” I nodded. Nodding at a phone. Why were we such creatures of inane habit?
I heard his voice a moment later. “Lily, are you there?”
“Yeah, hi Dave. What’s up? I was going to come in tomorrow to get the tickets and the write ups, but I can swing back today if that’s a better fit.”
“Why, Lily, yes. Could you jump in a cab and come over right away?”
My stomach fell again. Things happen in threes, right? Here we go, I thought.
“Yeah, I’ve just…been running, but sure. What’s up though? Can you tell me?”
“Nothing bad—not at all.” I dropped my shoulders, and tried to breathe again. “Just developments.”
“Ok, be there in about 20 minutes. Don’t say I didn’t warn you about the sweaty clothes.”
I hung up and walked back towards Central Park West. What the fuck was going on? And those voices. No way. It couldn’t be. Not possible.
I waited a few minutes, someone got the cab I thought was mine when they rushed out of a building a block up. I swore, and looked at my phone again. 20 minutes gone already. Another cab finally turned up, and I jumped in, and gave the driver the address. Maybe it was better not to be dressed up. No pressure. A little reality check. The whore off duty, but on duty. Whatever.
We pulled up outside, and I gave the driver some money. “Keep the change,” I muttered, and opened the door and clambered out. God, I wished I was wearing something more—serious. Still, people were looking at me. Maybe the casual look was rocking for me. The power in not giving a fuck. Luckily I had my bag with me, notebooks and ID, so I dug out my pass and showed it to the guard, and went through the turnstile, the little black numbers on the side counting me in. One more soul headed to their execution. I didn’t totally buy the nothing bad story. Something was up.
The secretary looked me up and down. I fixed her with a stare. Yes, bitch, no heels, and I’m not six feet tall. But I help pay your salary, I thought. And I smiled at her, suddenly feeling very generous. She smiled back at me, warily. No, not looking for girl on girl action. Or am I? I widened my smile. “Hi darling. Could you let Linda know Lily Taylor is here?”
She looked annoyed. “Of course.” Ah, she doesn’t like being told what to do—at least by me. Too bad. She looked back at me, after speaking quickly into the phone. “You can go in.”
I thanked her, and went through the next set of doors. There, at an angle, behind a grey metal desk with two banks of phones, was Linda. You didn’t fuck with her, but then again, you never needed to. She was utterly efficient, and never altered her slightly cold manner for anyone, no matter how famous. It worked like a charm at putting people at ease. The one thing that the rich and famous liked was being treated like anyone else. Unless they didn’t. Ha. But standing up to them always worked. Never argue with success.
“Hey Linda, how are you?” You also were always nice to her. Of course you were. Dave relied on her impressions of people. You didn’t get to make that mistake twice. “Is he ready for me?”
“Hello Lily, good thank you. Congratulations, by the way. Great article.” She smiled warmly at me. Well. That was unexpected. Maybe she didn’t act the same way with everyone, and I’d just been bumped up a level. That was an idea. Everything I thought I knew, thrown overboard yet again. Why not?
“Thanks Linda. I’m glad you liked it.” I smiled, suddenly uncertain how to treat her. She’d changed, now I needed to. But how? Try not giving a fuck came to mind. “You’ll like the next one as well, promise.” I was going to offer to bring her something from London, but I no longer trusted that was happening, or that giving was appropriate. So I nodded and walked towards the big door and knocked. I heard a muffled, “Avanti”, and I stepped into the room. There was Dave, big and imposing as ever, sitting in his large white leather chair behind the glass topped desk, impeccable in what looked like a crisp Gucci suit, on a call. He smiled and waved me in. I took another step and went to sit down at one of the chairs at the desk. But something prickled at the back of my neck and I turned to look at the large Scandinavian bleached wood table in the alcove of his office.
There, sitting at the head, with his manager to his left, was Tristan. He looked cool as always, gazing vaguely towards me through dark sunglasses, as though he were looking off into the distance. The manager was smiling criminally at me. He managed to look condescending and aggressive at once. I tried to smile back.
Dave was off the phone. I stood and he came up to me and kissed me on both cheeks. “Lily, thanks so much for coming by at such short notice.” He glanced at my leggings and sweatshirt and snea
kers, and then over at the manager, who was watching us. Dave put his arm around me, careless of his perfect suit against my sweaty and damp sweatshirt, and turned me towards Tristan, who took off his sunglasses, as though announcing the meeting had begun. “Tristan, of course you know, and James, had an idea they wanted to run by me, something Tristan came up with, and I knew you would want to hear about it as soon as possible.” James looked even more gleeful at this. I looked away from him and over at Tristan. His face was perfectly impassive. The distant rock idol was in place. There would be no help there. I thought back to when I’d last seen him. No, I wouldn’t think about it. He obviously wasn’t.
“Come, sit down.” Dave moved over to the table, gesturing for me to follow, and pulled a chair out for me. What was going on? I’d just been slipped into business class, and suddenly the servers weren’t surly anymore. Shit. I couldn’t decide if I was happy about it, or pissed that I’d been happy enough before.
I smiled at him, and sat down as he pushed the chair under me, the perfect gentleman. I glanced over at Tristan and I thought I saw a fragment of a twitch around the corner of his mouth, but it was gone again, instantly, replaced with the business-like mask that covered up his thinking.
Dave sat down, and buzzed for Linda. “Would you all like something to drink? Coffee? Perrier?”
I spoke first. I might as well enjoy the power ride while the quarter was still working. “I’d like some Perrier, thank you.” And I sat back, and caught a glimpse of James. His face was hard, and his expression gave off nothing but a kind of vicious malignity. I wondered how and why Tristan had gotten him as a manager. I supposed it was like having a pit bull. Not pretty, but effective. I smiled at him, sweetly, and he looked annoyed. Lovely.
I turned back to Dave. He would need to speak first. Protocol. The complexities of man. I tried to enjoy it. I also tried to ignore the fact that Tristan was sitting right there. I could feel him. His leather clad arms were resting on the table, his long fingers stretched out. I looked away. I could still feel the heat on my skin where he’d whipped me burning against the acrylic chair. I blushed, remembering. Damn.
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