by Anita Notaro
‘Where are you, can we meet?’
‘I’ve just bought the most fantastic clothes, make-up and underwear and I’m looking for somebody to have a glass of champagne with, although this high cannot possibly be improved upon.’ She laughed for the hundredth time that day.
‘Oh and by the way I’m not telling you my assignment until you have a drink in your hand.’
‘See you in the Shelbourne in fifteen minutes,’ Tara giggled like a two-year-old and Lindsay spent the next hour with one of her two best friends, eating silky smooth pâté with hot buttery toast and drinking ice-cold champagne. Debbie rang from Luton airport in the middle of it and her screams could be heard throughout the entire Horseshoe bar. People stared and they both collapsed with laughter as a crystal-clear picture of Debbie dancing a jig somewhere in London crossed their minds.
This day simply could not get any better.
Chapter Ten
AT EIGHT-THIRTY THAT evening Lindsay hopped out of a taxi at the ultra-cool Cleo’s Bar and ran inside to meet her friends. It was a cold, wet and windy December evening but she didn’t notice. She glowed as she joined the gang. Nobody really knew the other assignments, although each had told the one or two people they had become closest to on the course. Lindsay was a bit apprehensive, wondering who hadn’t got a job and thinking how they might be feeling tonight. As it turned out, the four people who hadn’t been offered jobs were put on a panel for future contracts, partly because the station had already invested heavily in them. Two of them were quite happy as they were still studying, one full time and one part time. Angie, the third person, worked as a pharmacist in her parents’ chemist and would stay on there until called, which sort of suited her as her parents were elderly but Tom, a quiet, deep-thinking, intelligent but very serious guy, was devastated and was the only one not to join them. Lindsay hadn’t got to know him very well but knew he was quite nervous, which probably didn’t suit the temperament required to work in TV. Nevertheless, she felt very lucky to be one of the ones celebrating tonight.
To her amazement, everyone seemed delighted to hear her assignment and wished her well and said she deserved it. It was so weird, because they’d all been so competitive. She was dying to hear all the other news. Two people were sent to Current Affairs, one was delirious and one was suicidal, which made them all laugh and Serena, a tall, willowy, sexy, blonde who’d blown them all away by doing a cookery programme as her final project, had been sent to develop a new food series for children. She was delighted, which amazed them even further. Lindsay couldn’t get enough of the banter. For the first time she felt she had a right to talk about it all because she was suddenly part of it.
Cleo’s specialized in serving ‘plain’ food with a twist, such as fish and chips (plump, juicy tiger prawns grilled with garlic and chilli, served with fat, crunchy, home-made wedges) and bangers and mash (thick, herby, pork sausages made on the premises with red onion jus and fluffy, buttery potatoes), all superbly cooked using only the best ingredients. The food was served with stunning wines, all sold by the glass, as well as champagne and the trendiest beers. Everything cost a fortune and attracted the movers and shakers, the top notch amongst Dublin’s wealthiest, coolest people. It was Lindsay’s first time there and it felt fantastic. She revelled in the atmosphere, soaking it up like a sponge and determined to get the most out of every minute. This was her moment and she’d waited a long time for it, fearing it might never come again.
They decided to go for broke, on the strength of their new salaries – the details of which Lindsay had completely forgotten to ask – and agreed to drink only champagne for the evening, refusing even to think about the fact that most of them would be earning less money and should be cutting back.
Lindsay, however, for the first time in ages, didn’t need anything to keep her on a high, although she polished off the first glass of bubbly fairly smartly and wandered around, laughing and smiling and having a ball. She felt fantastic in her new clothes but was clever enough to realize that her real feelings of well-being came from within herself. She was so thankful that she’d survived the past few months and somehow come out the other end with a spanking new career. It also helped that she knew she was looking as good as she possibly could, which she hadn’t done in ages. Someone had cleverly booked one long table and they all kept changing seats as they tucked in to gorgeous food and drank gallons of cool froth. The noise level was deafening and the mood was bordering on manic.
About ten o’clock, as she wandered to the loo, Lindsay heard a voice call her name. She turned to find Dan Pearson, the floor manager who’d saved her life on that fateful night in the Newsroom, smiling at her.
‘Wow, you look much less terrified than the last time I saw you.’ He smiled at her warmly, taking in the sparkling eyes, shining hair and soft, sexy clothes. She hugged him spontaneously.
‘Guess what, in spite of it all I passed,’ she laughed up at him. ‘Can you believe it? They actually offered me a job.’
‘I never doubted it, I know talent the minute I see it,’ he teased. ‘So, you’re celebrating?’
‘Yep, I’m having an absolutely brilliant day, the best.’ She grinned foolishly, which made her look young and innocent, like a child in a sweetshop.
‘What about you? What are you doing here?’ she asked shyly, conscious that she didn’t really know him at all and she’d just given him a bear-hug.
‘Chris and I have just finished an interview with the Taoiseach.’ He nodded at the man who’d just joined them. ‘We called in here for a bite to eat and a glass of wine. Very trendy, I must say, although Chris tells me it’s not always quite so full of the beautiful people.’
Lindsay turned, in spite of herself, and found herself staring into the face of the man she’d hoped never to have to look at again, except perhaps on television and even then only on a bad night’s viewing.
‘Hi.’ It came out as a squeak.
‘Hello, Chris Keating,’ he smiled as he held out his hand, obviously not realizing they’d met before, which made it even worse, if that were possible. He was taller than she remembered and he was formally dressed, presumably because of his interview with the Prime Minister. He wore a dark grey suit that was wool but looked expensive enough to be silk and with it a snow-white shirt and understated tie. His look screamed effortless, partly because his hair was unfashionably long for his clean-cut image and his too-blue eyes and tanned skin meant he obviously spent a lot of time not wearing a suit. The combination was quite something. Dan had clearly decided that the only thing to do in this situation was to jump in straightaway.
‘You two have met before, but obviously neither of you made much of an impression on the other, or at least not the kind you want to remember. Not tonight, anyway,’ he grinned at Lindsay, ignoring her strangled half laugh.
Chris Keating looked at her intently.
Please let him not recognize me, Lindsay prayed, at least until I can make my excuses and scarper. At that precise moment Carrie joined them to talk to Dan, whom she’d also met on her attachment and discovered was from her neighbouring parish at home in the country. They hugged like long-lost friends and started chatting furiously, leaving Lindsay staring stupidly and Chris looking puzzled.
‘Do you work at the station?’ he asked. ‘Dan knows everyone, so it’s great to come out with him, otherwise I end up on my own in a corner.’ She didn’t believe him for a second but continued to stare at him like an imbecile, afraid to speak in case he recognized her voice, which she knew was ridiculous.
‘Yes, just started,’ she croaked after what seemed like five minutes. ‘I’m going to work on Live from Dublin on Tuesday.’ She couldn’t for the life of her think of anything else to say.
‘As what?’
‘Assistant Producer.’
‘Oh, you must have been on the course . . .’ His voice trailed off and she knew he knew. He kept looking at her face. ‘In fact, I’ve just remembered you’re probably the only pers
on in the world to whom I should grovel and then apologize profusely.’ He stared at her intently, as if making sure she was the one. ‘I was extremely rude to you one night in the News studio and I should have dropped you a note to say sorry.’ He sort of grinned at her and looked a bit unsure at the same time and she was amazed at how different he seemed, hardly recognizable yet so well known to her, as he was to most of the nation.
‘I had just come back from a really long trip and badly needed my sleep, which makes me grumpy at the best of times, when I got a call to go into work to record a promo. Unfortunately, you snatched my duvet from me just when it was within my grasp and I reacted badly. I’m really sorry, I’m not usually so rude.’
Lindsay, who wasn’t normally lost for words, was speechless. She’d built him up in her head as a monster, partly because she thought he had the power to destroy her longed-for career before it had even started. She’d been prepared for anything if she ever came face to face with him again, but not for this.
‘Well, you were pretty hard on me but what I did was incredibly stupid and you taught me a lesson I’ll never forget. I thought I hated you but I guess it’s OK.’ She shrugged, amazed again at the way this day was going. ‘In fact, it’s definitely OK because I’m having the best day ever and nothing is going to spoil it.’
Carrie had dragged Dan off to meet some of the gang and Lindsay waited for Chris to make his excuses and go off to join any one of a dozen groups of people he probably knew, but to her surprise he called a waiter and asked if he could buy her a drink.
‘No, it’s fine, I’m with everyone over there.’ She felt a bit foolish, not sure why he was doing this when he was probably dying to get away.
‘I insist, what are you having?’
‘Only champagne tonight, I’m afraid. I’m celebrating,’ she apologized.
‘Fine and I’ll have a glass of anything white and cold and dry,’ he smiled at the waiter. ‘Thanks.’
‘So, when did the course finish and how did you get assigned to the number-one programme?’ he asked and to her amazement, actually looked interested. She thought celebrities were only interested in talking about themselves. Half an hour later they were deep in conversation when Dan returned with Carrie and announced that they were off for ‘some real food’. Lindsay looked at her friend and saw that her eyes were shining.
She laughed and gave her a hug. ‘Talk to you on Tuesday.’ Lindsay was delighted to see Carrie looking so happy. Come to think of it, Dan didn’t look too unhappy either. To Lindsay’s surprise, Chris didn’t make any attempt to use the opportunity to leave, just continued talking to her. She felt vaguely uncomfortable. He was famous, for God’s sake. He’d made enough small talk to be able to acquit himself decently and he’d paid a fortune for a glass of bubbly. He just kept asking her questions, which she found quite disconcerting.
They chatted on for ages and somewhere during the banter the atmosphere changed between them and Lindsay started thinking about sex.
With him.
About kissing him. Touching him. Holding him.
Having him do the same to her.
Oh my God, what are you like, she berated herself. Women must think like this every night of the week. He’s probably married, or at the very least must have a girlfriend.
But somehow, she didn’t think so and she didn’t know why or how she knew. Maybe it was something to do with the way he was looking at her. On second thoughts that could be the hazy glow created by the bubbles.
She wondered what he’d say if he knew what she was thinking. Suddenly she wanted mad, passionate, brilliant sex. With no complications. No being in love and wondering if he felt the same. Worrying about whether he’d go off you like your mother always said men do. Convinced he wouldn’t call you. Dithering over whether to let him know how you felt. Afraid it might frighten him away. Unable to be yourself. Lindsay suddenly realized she’d never had that kind of relationship. A no-strings-attached, good-looking, intelligent, funny, great fling. She wasn’t that type of girl. Men didn’t fantasize about her. No one had ever said they wanted to tear off her clothes and have dirty, filthy, raw sex with her. Yes of course she’d had lots of great sex, but it had never come out of the blue. And never on a first date.
Hell, this wasn’t even remotely a date. Barely a meeting, really.
For Lindsay, the pattern had always been the same. Meet man. Fancy man. Get asked out. Or not. Wait for him to call. Go out to dinner, kiss good night. Wait for him to call. Get to know him slowly. After a while have (sometimes great) sex. Sometimes not so great. Fall in love. Or think you are in love. Or pretend to be in love. Have a great time. Get your heart broken. Or break one or two yourself.
Suddenly the whole man-woman situation seemed ludicrous and she had a mad desire to rewrite the rulebook. For a start she’d settle for great sex and to hell with being in love. Or even getting to know him. At that moment, standing there beside him in the middle of a crowded bar, she didn’t care, she just knew she didn’t want him to go.
This crazy, ingenious idea of hers had one major point in its favour. It would be the final nail in Paul’s coffin. There’d be nothing left to remind her once she’d had sex with someone else. And what a someone else to have sex with.
‘Hi, Lindsay. Bet you’re glad the course is over.’
She suddenly realized they’d been joined by a couple of people from the Newsroom, including some of the nine o’clock team whom she’d worked with on the famous ‘red light’ night. Everyone seemed to be talking at once, laughing, ordering drinks, teasing. To her surprise, Chris made no attempt to move away from her and included her in his conversation. She knew she should make herself scarce and she edged towards the ladies, about to make her getaway.
‘Look, do you fancy getting out of here and going somewhere less noisy? It’s just a bit too poser-ish for me,’ Chris whispered and grinned apologetically as he waited for her response. Again she thought he looked a bit unsure of himself although she knew it must be her imagination. She looked away quickly, as if she already knew what she was going to say and mentally made a last-ditch, futile attempt to dump the crazy notion before it was too late.
She didn’t know how it got out of her mouth but somehow it escaped and though she immediately tried to rescue it, it hung in the air between them for an eternity. No amount of the sparkly stuff could be blamed on this one. It was the most outrageous thing she had ever said to a stranger.
‘What I’d really like to do is go somewhere quiet. And talk. And touch you. And have you touch me.’ Her voice was barely audible. She didn’t look at him. Not yet. He had bent down to ask his question and she saw that he was still in the same position, his head close to hers. She could smell him. She didn’t move. He stayed where he was.
Lindsay couldn’t believe what she’d just said. Hell, she wasn’t even sure she fancied him really. No, that was a lie. She definitely fancied him.
He stared at her for ages. She could feel him staring and she knew she couldn’t keep looking everywhere but at him.
She nearly missed his reply.
‘Me too.’
Chapter Eleven
LINDSAY GRABBED HER bag and they left quickly, not saying anything further. She was convinced she was dreaming.
‘Would you like to come back to my place?’
‘No.’
‘OK then, any ideas?’
‘I think it should be somewhere that’s not familiar to either of us.’
No memories, was what she really wanted to say.
If he thought she was absolutely barking then he was a very good actor.
‘Right then, let’s think about this. It doesn’t leave us with a lot of options. Even if I had my car, I’m definitely familiar with it. And there aren’t too many public places where you can touch and be touched without them calling the police.’ She could feel him smiling at her. Just for an instant she wondered if she was, in fact, crazy. He seemed to sense something.
‘I cou
ld ring my friend Maurice, who’s the manager of the Shrewsbury Hotel and see if he has a room? And we don’t have to stay all night unless we want to. Let’s just go there, have a drink and talk, OK?’
‘Fine.’ Lindsay tried to look nonchalant as they strolled through the cold, wet Dublin streets. ‘At least it’s stopped raining, we won’t get wet,’ she said sensibly, which was ludicrous, given their not very sensible plans.
Chris took out his phone and dialled what she thought was a mobile number. After a short conversation he turned to her.
‘OK, he says it’s not a problem. Do you mind walking?’
‘No, that’s fine.’ She looked away quickly, not wanting him to see that she was suddenly scared.
To her surprise he continued their conversation as if it was a completely normal thing to be walking to a hotel with a total stranger. She took her cue from him and decided to pretend – at least until they arrived at the hotel, which turned out to be one of Dublin’s most exclusive.
The receptionist didn’t seem remotely surprised to see them and greeted them both warmly, ignoring the lack of luggage. No, not even a toothbrush, Lindsay wished she had the courage to say it.
