Her face lit up when she saw him walk into the office.
“Hi,” she grinned, “good to see you again. How was your weekend?”
“Lonely. How was your weekend?”
“So so. All my friends seem to have partners now. To be honest I felt a bit like a spare thumb!” She laughed hollowly.
They quickly resumed their easy, friendly relationship, spending most evenings together.
Marilyn called from New York to say that Taylor was doing well in rehab and was trying really hard to conquer her addictions. Brandon was grateful to his ex-wife’s friend and invited her out to dinner when she got back to Paris. She promptly accepted. Little did he know that she was hoping that her newly lifted bum, boobs and eyes would make him see her in a new light.
The following Saturday was Jazz’s birthday and on Friday night, as Brandon was leaving after dinner in her apartment, she said to him, “Dinner tomorrow night, as usual?”
“Sorry, no can do. I’m taking Marilyn to dinner. Remember her? Taylor’s old friend.”
Jazz was frozen to the spot, shocked with this piece of information. Remember Taylor’s old friend? How could she ever forget her! Did he not remember that it was with Marilyn that Yves had cheated on her? Was Brandon to be Marilyn’s latest conquest?
She said nothing but when he’d gone, she sat hugging herself tight, feeling a strange sense of betrayal.
The four women met for lunch on Saturday. Felicity had some good news for them. She’d made the decision to go into business with Becky when she got back to London and was very excited about it. They all congratulated her and she insisted on ordering champagne to celebrate. Jazz noticed that Ashling took only one sip and left the rest.
“Are you feeling okay?” she asked her.
“Fine, just a little hungover from last night and we’re going to a party in the Irish Embassy tonight. I don’t want to arrive there drunk,” she laughed.
Jazz had been about to ask her to go out to dinner that evening but that was obviously not on now. The others were all otherwise engaged too. Felicity and Max were going out with Becky and her husband to celebrate their new venture and Sophie was having her family to dinner. Even old reliable Hugh was unavailable as he had gone to Ireland to visit Fiona. She didn’t want to think of what Brandon would be doing.
Ashling noticed that Jazz was not her usual bubbly self.
“Are you okay? You seem very quiet today.” Ashling was concerned about Jazz. She was still at times very down since her miscarriage.
“I’m fine,” Jazz replied, but Ashling wasn’t convinced.
“Will you come around with Brandon for lunch tomorrow?” she asked. “Corey is coming too.”
“Well, I can’t answer for Brandon but I’d love to come,” Jazz replied, just a little too sharply.
Ashling hoped that they hadn’t had a falling out. She sighed. Relationships were so complicated!
“I have something to tell you,” Ashling said to her when Sophie and Felicity had left. “It’s not because I’ve a hangover that I’m not drinking – it’s because I’m pregnant!”
Jazz was surprised. “Congratulations!” she said, hugging Ashling. “I didn’t know you wanted another baby.”
“Well, I think three is a nice number and it would be nice if it was a little boy. Kieran would love to have a son.”
“That would be great,” Jazz agreed. “I was wondering why you turned down the champagne. It’s not at all like you.”
“Yeah, thank God my wine course is finished. I couldn’t bear not to swallow all the gorgeous wine they served us,” Ashling laughed.
Jazz was delighted for her friend but more anxious than ever about her own prospects of ever becoming a mother. Feeling very down, she decided that if no one else would, then she’d treat herself to a birthday dinner. Firstly, she went on a shopping spree in Galeries Lafayette and, laden down with bags, then visited the famous Parisian delicatessen, Fauchon. She treated herself to some foie gras and a jar of pheasant with truffles and Armagnac. She also bought a bottle of Sauternes to go with the foie gras and a bottle of Lynch-Bages, the lovely red wine she’d enjoyed so much in Ashling’s house. I’ll have my own party, she thought, feeling very sorry for herself.
Brandon had offered to pick Marilyn up at her apartment but she quickly shot that down.
“Good heavens, not a chance, daahling,” she laughed, her voice low and husky. “Louis would go crazy with jealousy if he thought you and I were sharing a cosy dinner together.”
Brandon was a little worried by this remark. Was she expecting a cosy romantic evening? If so, she was in for a shock. He was taking her out to hear how Taylor was progressing and to thank her for taking care of his ex-wife. That was as far as it went. He arranged to meet her in Willi’s, a bar and restaurant that he’d heard was nice and casual.
Marilyn was fashionably late and he knew, when he saw the glossy mink coat she was wearing, that she was expecting the Ritz or the George V for dinner. Underneath it she was wearing a very low-cut tight red dress which left nothing to the imagination. She had obviously burnt her bras years ago and all the men at the bar were ogling her breasts, much to Brandon’s embarrassment. She looked different – years younger – and he realised that she’d obviously had some work done on her face and body while she was back in the States. Well, he wouldn’t hold that against her.
She greeted him in a warm embrace, kissing him full on the lips which made him feel very uncomfortable. She never flinched when he told her that he had reserved a table in Willi’s despite the fact that she was dressed for the Moulin Rouge or Maxim’s.
He told her he was very happy to hear that Taylor was doing well in rehab. He was very appreciative of Marilyn’s efforts to get her there and for getting her away from the dreadful Dylan. She, of course, embellished her part in the whole thing, hoping that Brandon would see what a wonderful person she was.
“Now, enough about Taylor, let’s talk about you and me,” she began.
He squirmed in his seat. He felt her leg rubbing against his and pulled away. The next hour was pretty torturous as he tried to evade her advances. She kept leaning towards him, giving him an eyeful of her newly enhanced breasts. She constantly ran her tongue over her luscious red lips which were certainly much more swollen than he remembered. She even resorted to dipping her finger in her cream dessert and licking it suggestively while looking at him from under her newly lifted eyelids. She made him feel ill. She was all fake, down to the tan which was more deep orange than anything the sun could have produced.
He couldn’t help but compare her with Jazz who was the essence of natural beauty. He desperately wanted to leave this manufactured woman and go to Jazz. Marilyn reached for his hand once more and suddenly he’d had enough.
“Sorry, Marilyn, I have to go,” he mumbled, pushing back his chair so hard that it fell.
She looked up at him in surprise. “Brandon, honey, don’t go yet. I was kinda hopin’ that we’d go dancin’ after this.”
Even her voice now irritated him beyond all reason. “Sorry, Marilyn,” he said, turning on his heel, aware that he was being rude but not caring. He’d had enough.
He paid the bill and practically ran from the restaurant, afraid that Marilyn might actually come after him. Luckily, he found a taxi before she had the chance. Ten minutes later he was ringing Jazz’s doorbell.
Jazz had spent her thirty-sixth birthday wallowing in self-pity. What had she achieved in all those years? Nothing, precisely nothing – at least nothing that was important. Yes, she had a good job but that didn’t keep her warm at night. Nor did it love her or help her come to terms with being alone for the rest of her life.
She was a little drunk when she heard the doorbell ring. What the hell, she thought, what bloody idiot forgot their key tonight? She pressed the intercom.
“Hi, Jazz, it’s me. Can I come up?”
“Brandon?” she asked, surprised. Wasn’t he supposed to be with Marilyn tonight?
“Yes, Jazz. Can you buzz me up?”
She did as he asked and he could see straight away that she’d been drinking and obviously crying. He looked around the candlelit room, thinking that maybe she had company.
“What’s the matter?” he asked her gently. “Are you alone?”
The tears started again. “Yes, I’m alone – all alone. And, it’s my birthday and no one wants to be with me . . . I’m a failure really,” she said between sobs.
He put his finger on her lips. “Hush, hush, don’t say that. You’re not a failure and you’re not alone. I’m here now. Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?”
“Well, you were going out with Marilyn . . .”
“I would have cancelled her if I’d known it was your birthday.”
“You would?”
He led her to the sofa. “Of course I would. I only took her out to thank her for taking care of Taylor but I would have cancelled it if I’d known it was your birthday.”
She stopped crying and looked at him with wide eyes. “I thought you were interested in her.”
He roared laughing and she smiled tremulously.
“You can’t be serious!” he said.
Now she started to laugh with him.
“I couldn’t wait to get away from her!” he said. “She irritates me beyond belief.”
Jazz gave a sigh of relief. She’d been riveted by jealousy at the thought of him with Marilyn.
“And what are you doing sitting here alone, drinking?” he asked, smiling indulgently.
“I know,” she replied sheepishly. “I was feeling sorry for myself.”
“Come here, silly,” he said, pulling her to him.
She leaned into him, loving the feel of his arms around her.
“You know, I miss you terribly when I’m not with you,” he said. “I couldn’t wait to get back to you tonight. Doesn’t that mean something?” He stroked her face gently.
“I feel the same way. I was terribly jealous tonight thinking of you with her,” she whispered. In fact, it had shocked her to find out just how jealous she’d felt.
Brandon found it hard to believe that Jazz could feel jealous of anyone, least of all the trashy Marilyn.
“You have no one to be jealous of,” he told her, taking her face in his hands. Before he knew it he was kissing her and to his amazement, she was kissing him back. She tasted delicious, sweet and fresh and her mouth was so soft. He didn’t want to stop.
Jazz couldn’t believe what was happening. This was what she’d been waiting for all her life. Yves and Hans both now paled into insignificance beside Brandon. The feelings she had for him went so much deeper. He was her best friend and the kindest person she’d ever known. She felt like they were part of a whole. When he took her hand and led her into the bedroom, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to do. He was such a gentle considerate lover that after they were spent she found herself crying.
“What is it, my darling?” he asked, kissing her tears away.
“I’m so happy,” she smiled up at him.
“Me too. I love you very much,” he murmured.
“I love you too,” she whispered. “And thank you for making this the best birthday ever.”
“I know someone who will be delighted with this news,” he grinned.
“Who?”
“Mia. She practically tried to throw me into your arms when she was here. She says you’ll make a cool stepmom.”
“Thank you, Mia,” Jazz said, smiling.
He stayed the night with her and every night after that, although he held on to his own apartment.
Marilyn couldn’t believe it. Things had been going so well. When Brandon had asked her out to dinner she’d thought that she’d finally got her chance with him. She figured that when he saw how great she was looking since her latest surgery, he’d fall hard for her. And there was no doubt that he’d noticed how well she was looking. He hadn’t missed the envious looks he’d been getting from all the other guys in the bar. She had been a bit disappointed when he’d told her that they were eating there in the restaurant at Willi’s. She’d expected that he’d take her to the Ritz or the George V at the very least.
Then just when she’d felt that she was getting somewhere with him, he’d upped and left. No apology, no future invitation, nothing! She couldn’t understand it. Maybe it was all too much for him. She’d call him in a few days and invite him out to dinner and this time it would be the Ritz or George V. This time she’d make sure he’d end up in her bed.
Ashling was pleased when Brandon rang on Sunday morning to say he could make it to lunch. Jazz and he arrived together and appeared to have made up as they were smiling and joking together. As always, the girls leaped on Jazz and monopolised her while Corey and Brandon got into a conversation about American politics. Kieran was doing the cooking and served up a delicious pasta meal. They had a lovely afternoon and Jazz and Brandon left about five o’clock.
“Those two are very much in love,” Corey remarked, as he sat sipping a brandy in Ashling’s living room after they’d gone.
“What?” she exclaimed.
“Oh, definitely. Did you not see the way they were looking at each other?”
“I did think they were much more touchy-feely than usual today,” Kieran agreed.
Ashling couldn’t believe it. “Gosh, I hope you’re right,” she said, grinning broadly at the two men. “They’re both fabulous people. I’ll be delighted if they got it together.”
“I think they already have, my dear,” Corey smiled at her.
Kieran nodded his agreement, grinning broadly.
“Well, I never!” Was she the only one who hadn’t twigged?
She couldn’t wait to ask Jazz about it. She didn’t have to wait long. Jazz rang later that night to thank her for lunch and share the news that she and Brandon were now a couple. Ashling could hear the happiness in her voice and was delighted for both her and Brandon. They deserved some happiness. She’d always known that there was a Mr Right waiting out there somewhere for Jazz. She just hadn’t expected it to be Brandon.
“So Mia was right after all,” Ashling said to Kieran as they were curled up in bed that night.
“Out of the mouths of babes,” he replied sleepily as he drifted off to sleep.
The following Saturday Brandon went out shopping and was all smiles when he returned to Jazz’s apartment. He got out the ice-bucket and opened the bottle of Cristal he’d put in the fridge earlier.
“I have a little present for you,” he said, taking a long slim package from his inside jacket pocket.
Jazz was agog with curiosity and excitement as he toasted her.
“A belated happy birthday, my darling,” he said, handing her the box.
When she unwrapped it she saw the Cartier insignia on the box and caught her breath. She opened it slowly to discover a stunning pair of the gypsy earrings that she wore so often – but these were not plain gold, they were made of sparkling diamonds. She was so touched that she started to cry.
“Hey, don’t you like them?” he teased.
“They’re the most beautiful earrings I’ve ever seen,” she said, through her tears. “Thank you so much, darling,” she murmured, kissing him deeply.
“Put them on,” he told her, happy that she liked them.
She went to the mirror and did as he asked. He came up behind her and lifted her hair gently off her neck as she turned her head this way and that, watching how the light caught the beautiful stones.
He kissed her neck and murmured huskily. “I think I could appreciate them more if I wasn’t being distracted by your clothes.”
“You think so?” she asked, watching him steadily in the full-length mirror. Slowly she undid the buttons of her dress and let it fall to the floor. She could feel his excitement as she undid her bra and let it fall also. She saw his eyes slide over her body as he watched her in the mirror and then she was naked except for the beautiful diamond earr
ings. Within seconds he had ripped off his clothes and started caressing her body while still looking at her in the mirror. It was the most erotic moment either of them had ever experienced. The champagne forgotten, they made love right there and then, she still wearing the earrings. It was the best sex either of them had ever had, bar none.
52
Two weeks later Fiona arrived in Paris, having finished her final physiotherapy exams. She knew that she’d done very well and was over the moon at having finished her studies, at least for the moment. She and Hugh planned to move to Ireland in October where she had enrolled in a Sports Therapy course. Hugh had already secured a job in a Fitness Centre there and, when she qualified the following May, they would move to California. He would open his own Fitness Centre and Fiona would open a Sports Therapy practice in conjunction with his business. They had it all worked out.
Ashling was delighted to have Fiona’s help, especially as she had to edit her book. The publisher had assigned her an editor who had marked all the changes that she needed to make to her manuscript and she baulked at the sheer number of them when she first saw it.
“I felt exactly the same when I got my first manuscript back from my editor,” Corey assured her “Trust me! They know what they’re doing. You’ll learn a lot and next time round you’ll have much less editing to do.”
“I hope you’re right,” she grimaced, a little overwhelmed by the daunting task. Luckily, Fiona was around a lot. She was staying with Hugh but came to Ashling’s whenever he was working. Orna and Ciara were delighted to have their favourite auntie baby-sitting them and it left Ashling free to work on her editing.
Fiona now joined in the girls’ nights out and the occasional Saturday lunches as did Alex, Felicity’s oldest daughter, who had come to stay for the summer, now that college had finished. Alex, who had studied French for years at school, was now taking lessons from Nicole. She and Felicity would natter away in French, much to Max’s amazement. Alex was currently madly in love with Nicole’s friend, Jean Michel, and Felicity guessed that he was behind this sudden desire to become fluent in the language.
A Year Like No Other Page 30
