by Erin Green
‘Asa.’
‘What?’
‘I don’t get it?’
‘Unfortunately, or rather fortunately for you, I do…’ He rummaged inside his jacket pocket for his cigarettes and matches. ‘Now run along, if you’re quick, I’m sure you’ll find Jonah upstairs preening himself… flash him your best smile and he’ll be putty in your hands, again.’
‘Asa!’
‘Go on, Emma! Go and find Jonah. He’ll do whatever you want, he’s been chasing you all night,’ he snarled, his voice was twisted in her ear as she scurried from the garden patio. ‘Emma! Phuh! He can’t even get your name right!’
Esmé dashed around the side of the house and leant against the wall to catch her breath. Her heart was booming, her lungs gasped, unable to function properly.
What had just happened? Why had he done that? One minute he was sweetness and light, a laugh a minute kind of guy yet in the next breath he was frightening. And why had he brought the Emma thing back up, even Jonah had finally got her name right.
Esmé stood panting in the moonlight.
‘Go! Be used by that fecking slime ball…’ his words were a husky whisper. ‘Esmé, Esmé, Esmé… you have no idea what you do.’
She heard a match strike and smelt his cigarette smoke.
Silence descended.
Esmé peeled herself from the brick wall and tiptoed back inside the kitchen before Asa realised she’d heard him.
Chapter Forty
Day 29: Party with confidence
Esmé fingered the cerise dress fabric, it had cost more than she’d planned and had been difficult to sew due to the sheer and fine quality of the fabric, but it felt gorgeous. Now, with her hair jazzed and spiked with glitter, her make-up skilfully applied and sparkly jewellery she stared at her reflection and blushed. She looked as glamorous as any cat-walk model, and felt confident enough to accompany Jonah for the evening to his awards ceremony.
Rap a tap tap.
‘Yes?’
‘Jonah said if you’re not downstairs in the next five minutes he’s going without you,’ called Dam from the landing.
‘Tell him, I’m nearly ready… and I’m worth the wait!’
Esmé took one last satisfied glance and prayed that tonight she’d turn heads, despite her recent dalliance with Jonah, her underlying obsession remained. Things had been a tad awkward since, their polite conversations had been terse as they navigated about each other. Esmé knew it would pass, but still, she hadn’t heard him mention another female since. She also knew that it wasn’t about trying to impress the cool kids, like Asa had said. Instead, a month after her break-up with Andrew there was no denying she had a spring in her step, having transformed into a sassy, life loving, independent female! – just as The Single Girl’s Calendar had promised!
Her entrance down the staircase was dreamlike. Esmé descended like royalty. Jonah was faffing with his bow tie and collar so had his back to her, but Dam’s eyes lit up as he watched her glide downstairs: chin lifted, eyes smiling and a modest amount of flesh on show.
‘You look beautiful,’ said Dam, which made Jonah turn round.
‘Boy! You scrub up well,’ exclaimed Jonah, his eyes scanning her from head to toe and back up again.
‘I hope it’s suitable.’ Esmé knew it was more than suitable, but it seemed polite to ask. She hadn’t an alternative dress if it hadn’t been. She re-arranged her hemline which started at mid-thigh and flowed into a long floaty train, emphasising her shapely legs.
‘Wait till Mr J gets an eye full of you, boy, will he be narked.’
Esmé frowned.
Cheers, my aim wasn’t to impress your friends.
‘He’s the big boss man,’ added Jonah, as a car horn sounded outside. ‘That’ll be for us. Come on, see you, Dam.’
In seconds, Jonah was striding along the pathway, his blond mane sweeping rhythmically against his dinner jacket, Esmé tottered behind to catch up.
Where were his manners? He didn’t even offer to help, thought Esmé.
‘Bye, enjoy yourselves,’ called Dam, from the doorstep.
A black limousine was parked at the kerb side, the uniformed driver climbed out to greet them and opened the rear door.
‘Evening,’ he smiled from beneath a peaked cap.
‘Oh, hi,’ said Jonah climbing into the rear seat without hesitation.
Lifting her skirts, Esmé settled beside him – the bemused driver closed the door.
By the time the limo pulled away from the kerb, Jonah had ransacked the mini-bar fridge and was uncorking the champagne.
‘We have to make the most of it, Esmé. This may well be the only bonus I get, so let’s enjoy ourselves – got it?’
‘Got it,’ chirped Esmé, taking the offered glass of bubbles, unsure that such extravagance was necessary, if not even a little wasteful, for such a short trip into the city.
‘I’ve got no plans to hold back, let me tell you that!’ added Jonah.
On hearing his spiel, Esmé was pleased she’d stretched to such expensive fabric, though she would need to eat porridge three times a day for a fortnight to pay it off her credit card bill.
‘Hurry up, knock it back… we’ve only got a twenty minute journey to the venue,’ ordered Jonah, hurriedly refilling his flute.
‘Hold fire, I can’t take my drink like you,’ laughed Esmé, as he tried to refill her glass.
Esmé watched as Jonah gulped and glugged, his Adam’s apple dancing in the process. Esmé would have preferred to savour each sip and every bubble – sadly, Jonah had other ideas.
*
As promised, the limo came to a halt after twenty short minutes. Jonah held the champagne bottle high and drained the final drips into his mouth as the uniformed driver opened the rear door. Esmé stared at Jonah and shook her head.
Was that really necessary?
‘Madam.’ The driver offered her his hand as she climbed from the vehicle.
‘Thank you.’
‘Sir.’
‘Cheers man, will the fridge be refilled for the journey home?’
‘Certainly, sir,’
‘Excellent, throw in a few more snacks, if you wouldn’t mind,’ laughed Jonah, slapping the driver’s shoulder. ‘Or make it two bottles of champers!’ Esmé cringed and gave the bemused driver an apologetic smile, as Jonah boldly walked ahead, once again forgetting his manners.
‘Catch up, keep up,’ he called over his shoulder as he climbed the steps of the hotel’s grand entrance.
Esmé collected her floating hemline and scurried to follow Jonah’s stride. He stopped before the main entrance.
‘Esmé, listen. The industry awards are the place to be seen. There’ll be some serious networking going on all night with the top brass – so, by all means speak to whoever, go where ever you like but make sure you ask their job title and that you mention my name if you’re chatting to an agency boss or a photographer, OK?’
‘Didn’t that top guy call you about the job for Milan?’
‘Cheers, thanks for reminding me. Would I be doing this if I had more work lined up?’
So, she was here to promote his career.
‘I thought I was your plus one at an awards ceremony?’
‘You are, but that’s only a section of the entire night, Esmé… and I’m not going to waste the rest of the time. Now, here’s a few of my contact cards, remember my portfolio can be viewed on-line and I’m prepared to travel for photo shoots if all expenses are paid… have you got that?’
‘Jonah!’ Esmé pushed away the wadge of business cards forced into her hand.
‘Take them… it’s important,’ said Jonah. ‘Why the face?’
‘Because I thought I’d been asked out for a treat, an enjoyable night out alongside you where I could let my hair down… now I find that I’m on duty as your PR woman!’
‘Opportunities in life, I can’t afford to miss them,’ said Jonah, accompanied by a shrug.
‘Hmmm, I’ve
noticed.’ Esmé stuffed the cards into her handbag as Jonah opened the doors.
He stood back to allow her to pass and Esmé smiled, manners at last!
‘Oh, Esmé, one other thing… make sure you’re back here for two o’clock sharp – the limo won’t wait for you, so if you miss it you’ll need to get a taxi back.’
Esmé stared at him.
What a bloody joke! She must have been delusional to think this was a good idea, thought Esmé, as Jonah walked ahead, waving to a crowd of beautiful people.
Esmé finally took Jonah’s arm as they entered the hotel’s assembly suite where the opulence was immediately apparent: the gleaming chandeliers, the oversized flower arrangements and the pristine waiting staff gloved, dicky-bowed and poised to serve.
‘Cracking, isn’t it?’ said Jonah, unhooking Esmé’s arm.
‘Stunning, but as you said the awards ceremony is fairly prestigious, so it’s to be expected.’
She looked around at the assembled crowd as drinks were served in the anteroom prior to taking their seats for the dinner. Some were blessed with good looks and an imposing physical appearance, others with personality and inner beauty.
‘Here,’ said Jonah, as he grabbed two champagne flutes from a passing waiter’s tray. ‘It’s free.’
Esmé accepted the glass and gave him a terse glare, Jonah definitely belonged in the former category.
She could see a sea of white linen cloth on large round tables which filled the other two thirds of the assembly room, and at the far end the stage had been decorated in glittering banners and awards paraphernalia celebrating the industry.
Jonah was busy chatting to another beautiful male, who he hadn’t introduced her to, but who she guessed was also a model.
Esmé busied herself as they spoke. She eyed the stage’s podium. In less than ninety minutes Jonah expected to be squarely before it, proudly accepting an award and thanking those who had supported his career. He’d denied writing an acceptance speech when she’d asked earlier but within ten minutes, Esmé had heard him practising one to the bathroom mirror.
*
The celebration dinner was stunning, top quality food presented in an imaginative and intriguing manner by award winning master chefs. Esmé tucked into every course with gusto, despite the evident scorn of four svelte models on her table, who simply pushed their forks around their plates without lifting a morsel to their mouths. Esmé proudly scraped her plate clean.
Very few people had bothered to make conversation with her, so Esmé sat and watched the proceedings. Jonah was guffawing at every opportunity and knocking back drinks in between. The room seemed to be full of beautiful stick insects and wide shouldered hunks, all with shiny coats, clipped nails and good teeth. Esmé pondered on how much it resembled Crufts on the final weekend of showing. The air was filled with back slapping, air kisses and networking chatter.
Once the cutlery was silenced, and the coffee cups arranged, the industry awards began, category by category. Esmé could feel Jonah’s nerves rising as his knee didn’t stop pumping like a piston against her chair. The glamorous presenters, some highly respected duo, read out the category, opened the envelope and one by one the deserved winner stumbled up on stage to accept their gleaming token gesture of a prize and a cheque. Esmé clapped and smiled in all the right places, conscious that she hadn’t a clue who these people were, but hey, she had manners and could feign interest.
Finally, the main award of the evening ‘Model of the Year’ was about to be presented. Jonah sat tall, straightened his bow tie, smoothed his jacket lapels and gave Esmé a cheeky wink.
This is it. His moment of glory.
The audience watched as Claudia Klauscroft, a supermodel from the Nineties, elegantly opened the gold envelope and withdrew the card.
‘And the winner of ‘Model of the Year’ is…’ A deafening drum roll was performed on the table cloths by the front tables, before Ms Klauscroft announced ‘Leonardo Abbatai!’
Jonah’s face autocorrected to cover his disappointment, as the audience applauded and stood for the dark haired guy in a glitzy emerald suit as he slowly made his way to the stage, with much back slapping and hand shaking occurring en route.
‘Quick, let’s get out of here, before the can-can girls come on stage,’ jeered Jonah, tugging at Esmé’s bare arm, as Mr Abbatai began his acceptance speech.
‘I’d prefer to stay here and listen to him,’ muttered Esmé, frowning at Jonah. His smile was fixed but he continued to pull at her wrist until she was on her feet. Jonah nodded to many beautiful people as they darted through the tables towards the foyer.
‘Champagne?’ asked Jonah, as a waiter neared their position.
‘I could do with a glass of water, to be honest,’ said Esmé, rubbing her wrist.
‘Champagne or nothing, it’s free.’
‘Even so, I’d like a glass of water?’ insisted Esmé.
‘I don’t see why I should fork out when it’s being given away on tap.’
‘So, if I said I was allergic to champagne, would you buy me a drink from the bar?’
‘I’d tell you to get your purse out, lady.’
Esmé headed straight to the bar and purchased her own glass of sparkling water.
Jonah followed her, leant against the bar and began drinking from the first of the two champagne flutes he’d taken from the waiter’s tray.
‘Are you for real?’
‘Sure thing, if this rich taste doesn’t suit you then I apologise, but for me… it’s champagne all the way.’
Bloody tight arse.
A gaggle of svelte beauties dressed like Jessica Rabbit walked past, and Esmé watched as Jonah’s tongue hit the deck and his eyes shot out on stalks.
‘Liking the view, Jonah?’ muttered Esmé, sipping her sparkling water.
‘Excuse me, but can you hold these,’ said Jonah as he thrust his two glasses at her. ‘I need to visit the gents.’ He hurried after the gaggle of pert ass, and disappeared into a swirl of beautiful women.
*
Esmé entered number seven Montague Road just after three o’clock in the morning. The house was in darkness. Behind her Jonah struggled to put one foot in front of the other along the garden path, as he greedily clutched two bottles of champagne taken from the limo’s mini fridge. She refused to assist him.
If he wanted to drink that much, then he was big enough and ugly enough to cope.
Kicking off her shoes in the hallway, she glanced in the mirror. Her hair remained attractive but her eye make-up had merged into a colour wash of shimmer. And, as for her dress, well. She fingered the rip in the train’s hemline, if Jonah was any kind of gentleman he would have taken responsibility and apologised immediately for stepping on it and tearing it. But, he hadn’t.
Esmé heard a noise in the kitchen.
Who’s up and about at this hour?
Esmé forgot about her torn hemline and tiptoed towards and through the kitchen door.
The back door was wide open, the moonlight shone eerily upon the slate tiles.
She popped her head out and looked both ways: no one. She stepped barefoot onto the paving slabs and made her way round the corner to the garden. And paused.
Asa was crouched down, leaning against the house wall, apparently naked but for a pair of jeans, a cigarette in one hand, staring up at the moon. The moonlight shone on his torso and the various tattoos visible on his temple and neck, along his left shoulder and snaking down and around his lower back.
What was he up to?
Asa picked up a large bottle from by his side, took a deep swig and wiped his mouth roughly on the back of his hand. He drew heavily on the cigarette, before exhaling a plume of smoke into the dark night sky.
‘Asa?’ she whispered as she neared him.
He visibly jumped as she broke his reverie.
‘How was your swish party?’ The cigarette hung from the corner of his mouth.
‘So, so… not much fun if I’m honest
, look at my dress,’ she said turning round to show the snagged and torn rear train. ‘As I was walking, Jonah ripped it by standing on it.’
‘Ha, ha, definitely showing a bit more thigh than you’d planned, just what the captain ordered,’ laughed Asa.
‘Hmmm.’
‘Drunk?’ His cigarette danced as he spoke.
‘Out of his tree on all the free drinks. He’s still crawling up the path.’
‘That’s Jonah, ponce as much as you can, pay the price later.’
His voice sounded thick, and slow.
Esmé could see the bottle was not full.
‘What are you doing out here?’
‘Having a smoke.’
‘You’re smoking a lot recently.’
Asa removed it from his mouth, looked at it and laughed.
‘Am I?’
‘Yes!’
‘I got news for you…I’ve always…’ he grinned and raised an eyebrow.
‘Asa!’
He held up his free hand to silence her.
‘Esmé… not tonight, please.’
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, as he settled onto the block paving and stretched his legs out in front of him. She could see the sheer size of his frame, he was far more muscular than his clothes suggested. His tattoos curved and swept about each taut line, a fascinating combination of colour and muscle. Esmé could make out a peacock’s head on his shoulder, it’s bright feathers lifting towards his neck and face. A tiger prowled over his left collar bone before slinking across his left shoulder and bicep. Several music staves and their notes drifted above his heart and pecs.
Asa watched as her eyes roved around his body.
‘Did you live a little tonight, Esmé?’
She snatched her gaze away, embarrassed to be caught staring.
She pulled a face.
‘Not really, I thought it was going to be more fun than it actually was, though you’ll never guess who Jonah works for and who I’ve now met… our Mr Joshua… he owns the modelling agency, if you didn’t know.’
‘No, I didn’t know,’ he mumbled, snatching at the bottle and swigging from it. ‘Did our shining knight live up to your expectations?’
