by Fox Brison
“Too damned cute.” Kevin Jordan’s wife, Jaylee, made the comment as I was about to return to the bar.
“We have our moments,” Joanne said. “Hi, I’m Joanne Cassidy.”
“Jaylee Jordan.” She spoke with a slight Floridian twang. I think anyway. My knowledge of the sunshine state was based on Dexter and CSI Miami. “You guys are on our dinner table, so I thought I’d come and say hi before we sat down.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you. This is the first time Adele has brought me to a work’s do; I have to admit I was a bag of nerves. Wasn’t I, hun?”
“Hmm?” I watched Helen and Aileen double teaming Kevin Jordan. Christ, does she have no shame? Aileen’s small and lithe body was practically pressed against him.
“Nervous.” Joanne pulled me gently back into the conversation. “Honestly, I should have come dressed as a grade two listed building!” she said chidingly. Everyone laughed and I followed suit, although I wasn’t exactly sure why.
“But I bet it won’t be the last time, right Adele,” Mel said.
“Right.” Right about what? I must remain present or it won’t be Joanne fucking this up, it will be me.
“Why don’t we find our table and gab in comfort!” Jaylee suggested. Joanne took my hand and led me towards the dining room; oh yes I was in!
“Don’t look so smug,” Joanne nudged into my ribs. “It’s not a good look on you.”
I attempted repentant, except repentant was the last thing I felt when for the second time that evening, Aileen’s olive skin paled. Yeah that’s right, suck it up. The boss’ wife and the client’s missus are chatting to my girlfriend.
Strike one for me in the race for promotion.
I acknowledged in that moment that I saw the promotion not only as a step up the career ladder, but also as an opportunity for me to start again, just like when I was a teenager and moved from Glasgow to Edinburgh after being tormented by a gang of girls at school; my parents decided upping sticks was the best solution...
For all that’s holy, Adele, get back in the game! New York wasn’t just professional kudos, it was a way for me to reinvent myself, or more to the point, just be myself.
Adam threw his head back and laughed at something Joanne said, and Mel did likewise, after which she caught my eye and smiled. Warmly. I don’t think she’s done that since Adam first introduced us. I returned the gesture. It was a touch hesitant but from the resulting understanding clouding her eyes, I think she appreciated the effort. “So how long have you two been dating?” Jaylee asked.
“A couple of weeks,” Joanne said at exactly the same time as I said,
“A month.”
“Has it been that long already, darling?” Joanne asked adroitly.
“It has. Time flies,” I added. Joanne saved my arse. Again. She was quicker on her feet than a roomful of Michael Flatly clones.
“It certainly does, but that means I forgot our one month anniversary,” Joanne frowned and then did something unexpected. She lifted my hand and kissed it. I hated being on display and abhorred flirtatious banter, mainly because I was crap at it. Plus it was years since someone touched me in a way that wasn’t a formal handshake or an uncomfortable familial embrace.
Therefore when her lips grazed my knuckles I almost punched her in the face.
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll make it up to me,” I said, hoping no one noticed.
“Yes I will.” She kissed my hand again only this time I was a tad more prepared and didn’t nearly knock her two front teeth out.
“You guys are so cute. Sweetie, come and meet Joanne and Adele,” Jaylee Jordan called her husband over much to Aileen’s annoyance. Her brown eyes darkened and the lines around her eyes crinkled in deep, deep displeasure.
Score two for me, I smirked.
“Joanne here works for-”
“She’s a nurse,” I said quickly.
“Oh. I thought you said you worked for that knitwear company,” Mel titled her head.
“I do,” Joanne said. “But I’m training to be a nurse part time.”
“Impressive,” Kevin Jordan said. “Our youngest son was taken ill last year and the nurses were fantastic; they really are unsung heroes. I take my hat off to you, young lady. It takes a special person to want to do a sometimes thankless vocation.”
“Thank you, Mr Jordan.”
“Please, call me Kevin.”
Could this evening get any better? Apparently it could. I grinned when I saw my favourite dish on the menu.
Although right now Joanne Cassidy was giving it a run for its money.
***
“This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted and most of your colleagues are lovely,” Joanne said as we tucked into the main course of pan fried medallions of haggis, served with a medley of baby vegetables and accompanied by truffle infused mashed turnip. I thought they ‘overtruffled’ the turnip, but hey, I wasn’t paying for it.
“Are you having a good time?” I asked. This wasn’t part of the game, I truly wanted Joanne to enjoy herself.
“Let’s see… limo, flowers, Michelin starred food. Hmm…” Joanne sipped her water in silent contemplation. “The only thing that would make the evening complete…” she eyed me over the top of her glass.
“Yes?”
“A dance.”
“Joanne,” I bit my bottom lip. It would have been easier if she’d asked for my liver served on a bed of wild rice.
“What? Don’t you dance?”
No one at the table was paying us any attention which was how I wanted to keep it. “First of all, I don’t enjoy being the centre of attention,” I said in a hurried undertone.
“Believe me, no one would be watching you sweetie.” She flashed me a mischievous grin and her eyes twinkled with unrestrained mirth, “Because I have the rhythm of an inebriated chicken.”
I let out a burst of laughter, which caught Adam’s attention. “What are you two gassing about?”
“I’ve just confessed my deepest darkest secret to Adele,” Joanne explained.
“Oh yes?” Adam could see she was joking and played along.
“I’m rhythmically challenged. I don’t just have two left feet, I have left arms, hips and head. I don’t think my best friend Ashleigh’s father has ever gotten over the one he insisted I shared with him at her wedding. I thought casualty was overkill,” Joanne said, “until the doctor informed me a broken metatarsal is not to be sniffed at, just ask David Beckham.”
“Really?” Jaylee snorted.
“Really. Then there was the youth club disco when I was fifteen. Ash fancied this boy and he would only dance with her if I danced with his cousin. He received a black eye during an energetic YMCA for his troubles.”
“I can’t tell if you’re serious or joking,” Mel sniggered, “but you should definitely let Adele take you for a spin. I’ve heard she could make Ann Widdecombe look like Ginger Rogers.”
“Is this true?” Joanne pouted.
“Maybe, but I don’t want to end the evening in A and E,” I said quite seriously.
“Oh pleeease, darling, would it really be so bad? My arms around your neck, our bodies pressed together, you leading me wherever you want, me following, our eyes locked, the world drifting away…”
“Christ, Dell, if you don’t dance with the woman, I’m going to!” Mel exclaimed to roars of laughter.
“I’m not going to get any peace until I do, am I?” I asked rhetorically. “Come on.”
Joanne eagerly took my hand and I led her to the dance floor. As the band prepared the next song, the occasional chink was the only noise interrupting the beating of my racing heart.
All eyes were on me, which was basically my idea of hell.
However, the moment I took Joanne into my arms, everything around us melded into one indistinct blur. Our bodies began decorously apart as the string quartet and piano began, but as I guided her across the dance floor, the gap narrowed from inches to merely a rumour. Her eyes darkened as s
he looked up and a slight flush, barely visible beneath the thin layer of foundation, coloured her cheek. The feeling of her breath on my cheek and the scent of her shampoo, passion fruit and… I took a deeper breath… lemon was intoxicating.
I was caught in the moment and in the powerful draw of Joanne Cassidy; she was truly incredible. I had trusted her with my future, had backed her into an unconscionable position and yet… yet she behaved impeccably… wonderfully. You couldn’t fake that level of warmth, and definitely not that amount of generosity of spirit. Not for the first time since the crash a whip of guilt flickered in my heart.
I didn’t want this dance to end.
I was desperate for this dance to end.
The music stopped and people began clapping. Saved by the applause, my mind whispered. Instead of heading straight back to our table, I took Joanne’s hand and we went outside to the terrace where it was quiet.
I needed to re-set my functions which had gone haywire the second she stepped into my arms.
“Where did you learn to dance like that?” she asked as we stared out into the North Sea. In the distance, infrequent flashes of light pierced the darkness, boats heading for pastures new, and the night sky was free of any cover allowing the distant galaxies to watch over us. The flush on Joanne’s cheeks dampened down, probably from the chill of the salty night air, and the faint tinkle of music from inside was now accompanied by the sporadic shriek from a gull.
“Dancing was the only activity I actually enjoyed when I was younger. My parents sent me to something most evenings and every weekend. It got to the point where I forgot what my bedroom looked like. Eventually I told them I would do one or none. I chose to continue dancing.”
“Why?” she asked
“Because when the music started and I concentrated on my form, on the steps,” I paused. “I’d forget I was a beast.”
“What do you me-”
“Nothing. Never mind,” I interrupted There was no point in sharing with Joanne, after all, at midnight she’d go home and I would return to my solitary existence.
***
The rest of the night continued its relatively smooth passage, something I was unaccustomed to but eagerly welcomed. I was my usual taciturn self, cautiously navigating the choppy waters of small talk, but that didn’t seem to matter; and for once I was disappointed when the evening ended.
I walked Joanne to her front door and waited as she placed the key in the lock. “Well, this is it, I guess,” she said.
“Yes it is,” I replied.
“So, good luck with everything, Adele.” She turned the key and opened the door, and the pale glow of lamplight brightened the doorstep. “I hope you get that promotion.”
Promotion. It was like a kick in the gut to be reminded of it. “You too, and thank you once again.” I walked hurriedly down the path, desperate to return to my lonely castle.
And away from the beauty that had briefly scaled its walls.
Chapter 17
Adele
“Morning, Adele.” Adam entered my office without knocking and sat down pleased as punch. “Friday night was a roaring success. Joanne’s a peach.”
God he’s going to be unbearable from now on. “I’m glad you liked her.”
“Liked her? I can’t believe what a sweetheart she is.”
“Why? Because she’s with me?” And they say I’m blunt and cutting?
“That’s not what I meant.” It was exactly what he meant. “Right, Jordan’s been in touch. He was effusive in his praise.”
Oh my god, It actually bloody worked! “Excellent. Does he want to see my designs? I have a couple of sketches-”
“Not yet,” Adam interrupted. “It appears Friday was merely round one in the Gordon Golf Challenge.”
“What are you talking about?” I snapped, even though I’d immediately guessed and was pissed about it.
“As I mentioned last week, Kevin is particular in the way that he conducts business. He believes in really getting to know the people he works with,” Adam explained.
“You said one night, Adam,” I cut in.
“I know, I know.” He held his hands up in apology. “But ultimately the ball is in his court and he wants to spend more time with you and Aileen.”
“Well that’s me out of the running then.” Damn it. I dropped my pencil on to the desk, removed my glasses and rubbed the bridge of my nose; railroading Joanne had been a complete waste of time. “Was there anything else?”
“It’s not like you to give in so easily, Dell.”
“Sometimes you have to know when to cut your losses,” I said, exasperated.
“Well now isn’t that time. Call Joanne and ask if she is free a week on Friday.” He nodded towards my phone.
“A week on Friday?” I repeated to give myself thinking time. Parrot disorder was contagious.
“Yes. Jaylee Jordan has organised a couple of corporate boxes for the opening night of ‘La Traviata.’”
Oh I love opera… Oh wait… Oh shit.
Joanne.
“Umm. The thing is Joanne’s extremely busy with college and work. I’m not sure she’ll be able to make it.”
“Really, Adele? The way she was hanging off your every word, I think she’d jump through hoops of fire if you asked her to.”
I laughed nervously. “I should be able to swing it.” I should be able to swing my career from the gallows, would have been more accurate. This is a nightmare.
“Thought you might,” he chuckled. “This is your opportunity, Adele, do not blow it.”
“This is worse than Takeshi’s Castle,” I groaned.
“No, it’s called networking and it’s what the rest of us do week in week out,” he chastised. “Also, there are a few other social functions on the horizon. It’ll do you no harm to show your face… in fact if you bring Joanne it may turn out to be very advantageous. You were positively beaming with her around and even managed to converse with people without insulting them.”
Oh if only he knew…
***
Once Adam left I allowed my thoughts to wander back to New York and the imagined skyline from my new office. It was within touching distance, yet this time it didn’t raise the same emotions... I couldn’t afford to lose focus; I added the opera to my calendar and started organising my notes.
I dropped the pencil for a second time, and held my head in my hands.
I needed a miracle. How was I going to convince Joanne to play doting partner for a few more weeks? She wasn’t exactly enamoured with having to do it once. Although, despite the horrific way I’d acted in manipulating the situation, she had risen to the top.
The crème de la crème.
As if by magic the answer came in the form of an email from Donna and the quote for the damage to my car. Wow. It was definitely more than I thought it would be; thank God for insurance. However, it at least gave me an excuse to call Joanne. Hmm. Now what Blofeld? Hope her Mother Theresa persona isn’t an act and ask politely? I couldn’t exactly threaten her mother with jail again, that ship had sailed. Speaking of mothers… I wondered if she’d managed to get hers into rehab… I smiled archly.
Maybe having a little sister could work in my favour for once, especially one who was a social worker.
***
“Joanne,” I began formally when I eventually made the phone call. It had taken me longer than I thought it would to pluck up the requisite courage.
“Adele.” Joanne responded in kind.
“How did you know it was me?” I asked.
“You have a distinctive voice, low and kind of gravelly,” she said playfully. “Plus I stored your name in my contacts,” she added, laughing dryly.
She sounds relaxed, good start. “Of course, you did. Sorry.” Why am I so nervous? Reluctantly, I acknowledged although the promotion was part of it, seeing Joanne again, or in this case hearing her voice, was causing the reaction. “Anyway I’m calling because I was wondering if you’re free tonight?”
/>
“No, I’m at college,” she said quickly.
That was a decisive rebuttal. Maybe not such a good start, I scowled. C’mon, give me an inch, Joanne, so I can take a thousand miles all the way to New York. “Perhaps after then?”
“What’s this about Adele?” she asked suspiciously. “I kept to my half of the bargain, you’d better not be thinking of double crossing me!”
I glanced at the email from Donna. The stage is set. “Of course not, it’s just I have the estimate for the repairs.”
“Okay, well shoot, I’m a big girl, I can handle it.” She wasn’t playing ball which I found annoying to say the least. I couldn’t do this over the phone.
“Joanne, do you think you could possibly try to accommodate me? I did save your mother from prison for goodness sake!” I exploded in frustration.
There was silence on the other end of the line and I wondered if my reaction caused her to hang up. “Fine,” she relented. “Nine thirty tonight at the Dalkeith College of Further Education.”
“That’s late,” I said.
“No shit, Sherlock,” she mocked.
I straightened my scarf. It was a cream one today, with a leaf print. I’d been in a good mood when I chose it, maybe subliminally deciding to turn over a new one by wearing it. However, considering this call… truly, the stick was far more effective than the carrot. “How about dinner?” I proposed.
“What now?” came the shocked bark.
“I’m trying to be civil.” I couldn’t understand this level of reticence, after all we’d had a good time on Friday night. At least I had. Shit, was she seriously that good of an actress?
I heard her mutter, “Trying and failing.” There was silence again. I wasn’t the world’s most patient person and I found waiting on the end of a telephone line even more infuriating. “I can’t go out because I don’t want to leave my mother alone again, and I can’t keep relying on my friends.”
“How is your mother by the way?” I asked, laying the groundwork for my next contrivance. I heard Muttley’s distinctive laugh in my head. I guess that means I’m Dick Dastardly. Or maybe I was the Hooded Claw and Joanne was Penelope Pitstop.
