A Year Like No Other

by Pauline Lawless

  Yves read the text from Jazz with disbelief. What was going on? She was always ready and hot for him when he arrived. This was unbelievable! He texted her again and again but she didn’t reply. Where was she? How could she do this to him! He’d been aroused and looking forward to some great sex and now this! Furious with her, he left and went into the nearest bar. He rang Marilyn but her mobile phone was turned off. She’d warned him never to ring her at home. Louis wouldn’t take too kindly to it.

  Frustrated, he rang Chantal.

  “Hi, baby, I was wondering if you’re free tonight?” he asked his young secretary.

  “Sorry, Yves, I can’t. I’m seeing someone else at the moment so it’s out of the question,” she replied.

  “Merde!” he cried, hanging up.

  Thoroughly annoyed now, he spotted the girl sitting alone at the bar. She smiled at him. He raised his glass to her and she sashayed over to him. He bought her a drink and within twenty minutes she was leaving for Hôtel de Lutèce with him. They undressed and he was delighted to find that she certainly knew how to get a man aroused. As he was about to enter her, she put up her hand.

  “Let’s get business out of the way first, shall we?” she whispered.

  “Business?”

  “Yes. I charge one hundred euro. Five hundred if you want me to stay all night.”

  Yves looked at her disbelievingly. He’d teamed up with a hooker!

  “And if I decide I don’t want to continue?” he asked. She was stroking him sensually all the while and he still had a hard-on.

  “I’m afraid you’ll still owe me the hundred euro. But you don’t want to stop, do you?” she smiled, stroking him faster.

  “Noooo,” he moaned. “Okay,” he agreed, reaching for his wallet and taking out a hundred euro. There was no way he wanted her to stay the night!

  It was over in less than an hour but he reckoned he’d got his money’s worth. Disgusted with himself and raging against all women – Jazz in particular – he took a shower, then went out to the nearest bar and drank himself into oblivion.

  When Jazz turned on her phone again there were fifteen texts from Yves and a couple of drunken voicemails. Great, she thought, feeling some satisfaction.

  The following morning he looked like hell when he came into their office. Hungover as he was, he could feel the frosty atmosphere that greeted him. Jazz left, giving him a curt nod and Brandon was extremely cool with him. What did I do wrong? he asked himself. He couldn’t figure it out. Everything had been going so swimmingly. Mid-morning he received a text from Jazz saying that she didn’t want to have anything more to do with him. He was flabbergasted. Had Sophie found out and said something to her? He quaked at the thought.

  Jazz had to call on every reserve of strength she possessed to get over Yves. Yes, she missed his lovemaking but what was that worth if there was no love in it? She’d thought that she was in love with him but realised now that she’d been in lust with him. She could not have loved anyone as despicable as he had turned out to be. More importantly, she now respected herself again. She’d felt so horrible and guilty, especially where Sophie was concerned, but now that guilt was lifting and it felt good. She would mark the whole thing down to experience and never make the same stupid mistake again.

  Yves pestered her all week with texts and voicemails but she refused to discuss it with him. She kept her phone off most of the time. Finally, he’d nabbed her as she was leaving the office on Friday. She gave him no excuse and refused to discuss it.

  “Just accept it. It’s over,” had been her parting shot as she walked away. The look of incredulity on his face had given her great satisfaction.

  She couldn’t believe her stupidity in getting involved with him again. She felt such an idiot and, when she saw cute little Pierre at Orna’s birthday party the following Sunday, she was truly grateful that she’d seen sense.

  Ashling was delighted to see that Jazz was back to her old self, playing with the children and keeping them entertained. Orna had invited four little friends from school and three from the park, so Ashling had quite a handful to cope with. She’d shooed Kieran off to golf with Max that morning and he’d promised they’d be back in time for the birthday cake. He seemed to be making a big effort and, true to his word, had come home early almost every night. Last night they’d had the most wonderful romantic evening out and had made love afterwards. Twice in one week! Things were looking up! She smiled at the memory.

  Just as they were about to have tea, Fiona rang to wish Orna a happy birthday. She was bubbling with excitement as she told her sister that Hugh was coming over to Ireland to see her the following weekend. She was obviously crazy about him.

  Thankfully, Yves hadn’t put in an appearance. Well, it was a kiddie’s birthday party but you never knew what could happen. She guessed that he wouldn’t take Jazz’s put-down lightly. Doubtless his male ego had been bruised.

  After the tea, when the other children had all gone home, Orna, Ciara and Pierre snuggled up on Ashling’s bed to watch Toy Story 3. Max and Kieran were playing a golf game on the computer – as if playing eighteen holes of golf that day had not been enough!

  “Men! They’re worse than children,” Ashling exclaimed, and the other three women agreed wholeheartedly.

  With the men and the children thus occupied, the women sat chatting over a bottle of wine. They all agreed that the move to Paris had gone swimmingly. Except for poor Taylor, of course!

  Poor Taylor, as they called her, was up to her old tricks. Dylan, her new BFF, had her completely in thrall. He was younger than she, handsome and from a filthy-rich family who bankrolled him but wanted to have nothing to do with him. Best of all, he understood her need for the drugs as it mirrored his own. With his unlimited access to funds he had no problem getting people to supply him with them. He very generously shared his stash with Taylor. She’d decided that he was her soul mate.

  She knew Bob was watching her and doubtless reporting her every move to Brandon so she had to be very very careful. The only place she could snort or swallow was in the ladies’ room. She even half-expected him to follow her in there!

  “I’m sick of this place,” she confided to Dylan one night after Bob had been on her case all day. “My husband’s spy will hardly let me go to the john!”

  “Okay so, let’s split,” he said, nonchalantly.

  “We can’t just walk out.”

  “Who says we can’t? It’s rehab – not a prison. We’re here of our own free will. They can’t detain us.”

  And just like that, she gathered up her belongings and walked out with him. They got a taxi to his place in Greenwich Village and, in the early hours of the morning, topped up with umpteen vodkas and cocaine, they fell into bed together. He wasn’t demanding as a lover, not at all like Brandon, and in five minutes it was over. She felt happier than she’d ever been and fell asleep with his arms wrapped around her. They were a team.

  Brandon was wakened out of a deep sleep by the ringing of the telephone.

  “Hello,” he mumbled, switching on the light to see what time it was. The clock read 5.30 a.m. That meant 11.30 p.m. in New York.

  “Hi, buddy,” said Bob. “Bad news, I’m afraid. Taylor walked out of here tonight with that waster I told you about. I tried talking to her but I could do nothing to stop her if she wanted to go.”

  “Christ!”

  “I can’t help her any more, pal, and neither can you. I guess it’s her choice to live like this.”

  “Oh God! Thanks, Bob, I appreciate all you’ve done. I guess you’re probably right. Do you know where she might be?”

  “Probably crashed out in his pad. He has a place in the Village, I believe. I can check it out for you.”

  “Hey, Bob. Thanks again. I owe you big-time. Maybe you can tell me what I can do to help her.”

  “Buddy, I hate to have to tell you this, but I think Taylor is past help. She doesn’t want to give up the drugs. Until she wants to do it herself nobody c
an make her.”

  Brandon let out a long sigh. “Let me know where she is anyway. I can’t get away from here until Friday, I’m afraid.”

  “I don’t think it will make any difference when you come, to be honest with you.”

  Brandon thanked him again and hung up. This was the end! He wouldn’t take any more crap from Taylor. She obviously didn’t want to get well. Either she cleaned up her act pronto or he was out of there! Even Bob had given up on her. Angrily he got out of bed. There was no way he could get back to sleep after this bombshell. Going on-line, he found a flight leaving on Friday evening. He booked himself on it. How he missed Concorde!

  He showered, made himself breakfast and was at his desk by seven thirty.

  Jazz knew from his hunched shoulders that something was wrong.

  She took off her jacket and pulled a chair up to his desk.

  “What is it?” she asked, looking into his troubled eyes.

  “It’s Taylor. She’s left rehab and is shacked up with some waster who has been supplying her with drugs. He’s a serious drug user, seemingly.”

  Jazz wanted to reach out and comfort him but at that moment Yves came into the office so she went back to her own desk, nodding curtly at him.

  As soon as he had left, she made two coffees and set one in front of Brandon.

  “You look like you could do with this,” she said, her voice full of sympathy as she sat by his desk once more. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m flying to New York on Friday to try and find out what’s going on. My friend Bob thinks there’s no hope of saving her,” he said bleakly.

  “Oh God, I’m so sorry.” Jazz could find no words of comfort for him. What can one say in this situation, she wondered?

  “I shouldn’t be away for too long,” he said.

  “Take as long as you need. I’ll keep things running here for you,” she assured him.

  “God what a mess,” he said glumly, as he finished his coffee and reopened his computer. Jazz had to agree with him.

  Lying in Chantal’s arms that Thursday night, Brandon felt grateful for her calm and gentleness. He told her that he would be away for a couple of days and might not be able to see her the following week.

  “You want talk about it? I know you very worried,” she said gently.

  “Thanks, but I can’t talk about it at the moment – maybe someday.” He smiled at her, grateful for her concern. She was such a sweetie.

  Sophie had been taking stock of her life. Remembering how the other girls had reacted to her ‘open marriage’ confession, she was now seriously questioning if they weren’t right. She suspected the affair with Marilyn was over as Yves was home most nights now. He seemed depressed and she often caught him just staring into space. When she asked him to sit down and discuss the problem, he’d stormed out.

  “Merde, woman! Leave me alone!”

  She felt near to tears at that. She wondered whether perhaps she’d been mistaken about Marilyn and whether he was in fact in love with her and that she’d been the one to finish the affair. She had no way of finding out. He certainly wouldn’t discuss it with her. He did keep assuring her that he loved her but he never wanted to make love. She wanted very much to believe him. Whatever it was, something was seriously bothering him.

  42

  Taylor didn’t know what day of the week it was. Life was one big merry-go-round of drugs and parties. She loved it. Dylan was fantastic. He had loads of friends who came and went at all hours of the day and night. She felt like a teenager again, except she’d never done anything this wild back then. She was finally getting to live the hippie lifestyle and it was fun.

  She was high as a kite when Dylan answered the knock on the door. She got the shock of her life when he came back into the room with Brandon and Bob in tow.

  “Oh my God, what are you doing here?” she cried, her face as white as a sheet.

  Brandon took in the dishevelled clothes and hair and the messy apartment and wondered how she had come to this.

  “I’m here to take you home,” he said, his voice quiet and steely.

  Dylan stood by, in awe of this elegant man who oozed authority. He reminded him of his own father and he felt nervous in his presence.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she said. “This is my home now.”

  “Do you mind if I have a private word with my wife,” Brandon asked Dylan.

  “C-course not,” Dylan stuttered nervously. He shrugged his shoulders and looked at her helplessly. He left the room with Bob as Brandon looked at her with pity and disgust.

  “Taylor, what has happened to you?” he cried. He tried to take her hand but she yanked it away. “Taylor, please let me get help for you.”

  “I don’t want help – I’m happy here,” she said sulkily.

  “Taylor, I came all the way from Paris to try and help you but if you don’t want my help then there’s nothing more I can do.”

  “There is one thing you can do for me,” she replied. “I want a divorce.”

  He thought he was hearing things. She wanted a divorce! He felt like laughing.

  “Yes,” she said, brazen now. “Dylan and I want to get married.”

  Now he did laugh. “Are you serious?” he asked incredulously.

  “Very. Will you see to it?”

  “With pleasure, madame,” he said. Turning on his heels, he walked out.

  “It’s no good, Bob, there’s nothing we can do any more to save her,” he said sadly as they walked back to Bob’s car. “Can you believe it? She wants a divorce so she can marry that guy! What did I do wrong?”

  “I’ve seen what drugs can do to people, Brandon. Don’t blame yourself. It’s her choice.” He patted his old friend on the back. “What next?”

  “I’ll consult my lawyer tomorrow morning and set it in motion and then I’ll fly straight to California and explain things to the kids.” He let out a long sigh. “That won’t be easy.”

  And it wasn’t easy. They were delighted to see him but not so happy when they found out the reason for his visit. Mia burst into tears and Mike looked shaken. He hated having to hurt them but he owed them the truth.

  “Can we go and see her?” Mike wanted to know.

  “I wouldn’t advise it, but it’s up to you,” he replied, frowning. “Bob will take you to her, if you want, but I must warn you, she’s not the mother you knew. You’ll be horrified at how she is and the conditions she’s chosen to live in.” He stressed the word ‘chosen’.

  He also promised that they would spend Christmas together, at his expense.

  “How does Barbados sound?” he asked. “First class all the way of course,” he added, lightening the mood for the first time since he’d arrived.

  He enjoyed spending time with them and hearing all their news, before catching his flight back to New York. The night before he left LA he had dinner with them and their partners. He really liked Mia’s boyfriend, Doug, and it was obvious that they were very much in love. Mike’s girlfriend, Star, was an actress and very beautiful. They had a great night and he was happy that his children were in good relationships.

  He didn’t try to see Taylor again. What was the point? His lawyer assured him that the divorce could be finalised very quickly. He knew that she’d probably have a list of demands but at this stage he would have given her anything just to be free of her.

  On Tuesday morning he was back in his office in Paris.

  “How did things go for you in New York?” Jazz asked him.

  “Not good. I’ll tell you this evening. Are you free for dinner?”

  “Why not come around to my place and I’ll fix us something,” she offered.

  “Lovely,” he replied, his voice tired and emotional. “What a bloody awful weekend!”

  Jazz handed him a whisky almost as soon as he came through the door and he gulped it down quickly.

  “I needed that,” he said with a wry smile.

  “You’ve had a hectic weekend alright,
” she smiled back at him.

  “Understatement, my dear,” he said stretching out on her sofa.

  He then recounted all that had happened in New York and Jazz’s eyes got rounder and rounder as he went on.

  “She wants a divorce?” she said with a harsh laugh, when he’d finished.

  “I know. That was my reaction too. Anyway, it’s with my lawyers and under way now. She’s filing in Nevada where things are very speedy so I should be a free man within weeks.” The whisky was doing its work and he was beginning to feel some warmth in his body again.

  They were both subdued as they ate supper and he left shortly afterwards, exhausted and jet-lagged, to make his way back to the big lonely apartment.

  43

  The next few weeks flew by in a flurry of Christmas preparation. Every time Ashling visited the gym Hugh spent the time extolling Fiona’s virtues. He’d been to visit her in Dublin and it was obvious they were madly in love.

  “I had the best weekend of my life,” he enthused. “Fee is the sweetest girl I’ve ever met. As you know, she’s coming here when she finishes her degree and then we’ll decide where we’ll go. Maybe I’ll go spend a year in Dublin before we head to California. Anyway, we have plenty of time to decide.” He flashed a brilliant smile at her.

  Ashling noticed the ‘we, we, we’ littering his conversation. Thank God he was as mad about her sister as she was about him. Fee was constantly on the phone to her and all she could talk about was Hugh. This was serious indeed. Ashling was delighted for them, as was Jazz.

  “I knew he’d find someone special, and I’m glad it’s your sister,” she told Ashling.

  Ashling was busy putting the finishing touches to her novel and was quite pleased with how it had turned out. She couldn’t believe how easy it had been in the end. The characters had written their own story. Corey was as encouraging as ever and his agent was waiting to receive the finished manuscript. He had convinced her that she had real talent. He was also busy editing his latest book so they had put their museum outings on hold for the moment.