The Other Side of the Story

by Marian Keyes

  Jojo laughed at the idea of telling intellectual old Dan to shove anything. ‘He’s a senior partner and he’s been real good to me. It’s an honour to be asked. Thursday night I’ll go to yoga.’ A pause. ‘Maybe. Friday night I’m going to be hypnotized and Saturday I’ll see Mark.’

  ‘So come round on Sunday. Andy says he hasn’t seen you in ages.’

  ‘Less than two weeks. Hey, Becky, am I spending too much time being third wheel with you and Andy? It’s just because you’re family and you know about Mark so I can talk for as long as I like and you won’t tell me to shut up. Well, only sometimes.’

  ‘No way, we love it. Come over and we’ll read the papers, eat ice cream and complain.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Whatever you like,’ she said magnanimously. ‘The weather. Your job. The way Creme Eggs have got smaller. The choice is yours.’

  An hour later, as they kissed goodnight, Becky asked, ‘Are my teeth black?’

  ‘No. Are mine?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘We didn’t drink enough. Too bad. See you Sunday.’

  16

  Tuesday afternoon

  TO: Jojo.harvey@LIPMAN HAIGH.co

  FROM: Mark.avery@LIPMAN HAIGH.co

  SUBJECT: Miss

  To pine, yearn, long, wish, want to remove clothing from and sleep with.

  M xx

  TO: yMark.avery@LIPMAN HAIGH.co

  FROM: Jojo.harvey@LIPMAN HAIGH.co

  SUBJECT: Tough

  Hard, harsh, severe, stringent, unpleasant, but has to be endured as result of great stupidity involved in going away to book fair for an entire week.

  JJ xx

  Wednesday afternoon

  TO: Mark.avery@LIPMAN HAIGH.co

  FROM: Jojo.harvey@LIPMAN HAIGH.co

  SUBJECT: Crossword

  I’m stuck.

  Attractive affirmative back around ten? Four letters.

  JJ xx

  TO: Jojo.harvey@LIPMAN HAIGH.co

  FROM: Mark.avery@LIPMAN HAIGH.co

  SUBJECT: Sexy!

  (ten = x in Roman numerals. Affirmative is yes. Yes back is sey. Attractive = sexy.) Please confirm soonest: When will I see you again? When will we share precious moments?

  M xx

  TO: Mark.avery@LIPMAN HAIGH.co

  FROM: Jojo.harvey@LIPMAN HAIGH.co

  SUBJECT: When will I see you again?

  Saturday, Saturday, Saaaturday, Saturday, Saturday, Saaaturday, Saturday, Saturday, Saturday night’s all right. (So is the daytime.)

  JJ xx

  TO: Jojo.harvey@LIPMAN HAIGH.co

  FROM: Mark.avery@LIPMAN HAIGH.co

  SUBJECT: Saturday

  Good. The bed’s too big without you.

  M xx

  17

  8.57 Friday morning

  Jojo heard them before she saw them – the assistants and readers gathered around the latest Book News and exclaiming like a flock of sparrows.

  Pam was the first to spot her.

  ‘Your questionnaire is in!’

  ‘You look great!’

  A copy was thrust into her line of vision and Jojo jumped back. The photo! She looked like a fifties B-movie siren – wavy auburn hair swept over one eye, dark pouting lips – and she was winking. Keith had used the winking photo! It had only been a joke and he had promised not to run it.

  ‘Your answers are great. So funny!’

  ‘Thank you,’ Manoj said. ‘Er… on behalf of Jojo.’

  What’s your favourite smell?

  Success

  Which living person do you most admire?

  Myself

  What would you most change about yourself?

  My lack of modesty

  Which living person do you most despise?

  Myself – for my lack of modesty

  How do you unwind?

  In bed. I like seven hours a night.

  What traits do you dislike most in others?

  Their filthy minds

  What makes you cry?

  Chopping onions

  What makes you depressed?

  My lack of psychic ability

  Where do you see yourself in five years’ time?

  See previous answer

  Which book do you wish you had agented?

  The Bible

  Do you believe in monogamy?

  If’s a board game, right?

  What are your distinguishing qualities?

  I can whistle for a taxi and swear in Italian. I do a great Donald Duck impression and I can fix bikes.

  The only one of the original answers that Manoj had permitted to remain – not that she’d shared the more personal ones with him.

  What five things could you not live without?

  Fresh air, sleep, food, a circulatory system – and books

  What’s your favourite phrase?

  Do you take Visa?

  What makes you happy?

  When the answer is yes.

  What’s the most important lesson life has taught you?

  Nice girls finish last.

  It was a good note to end on. Jojo exchanged a wink with Manoj, and Pam watched carefully. She had once tried to copy Jojo’s sexy wink – drink had been taken – but she had simply succeeded in dislodging her contact lens which had made her eyelid flutter like a trapped butterfly. By the time she’d managed to calm the spasms the man she’d been trying to hook had bought someone else a Slippery Nipple.

  But not everyone was happy for Jojo. On the walk back to her office, she passed Lobelia French and Aurora Hall, who’d been Golden Girls One and Two until Jojo joined. Both of them ignored her. As did Tarquin Wentworth, a so-so agent who’d thought the ‘Hon’ in front of his name would guarantee automatic partnership – until Jojo’s arrival.

  Eleven minutes later

  Jojo hadn’t even started getting her emails when Jocelyn Forsyth, one of the senior partners, rapped on her door and said, ‘Permission to enter.’

  English as Beefeater gin, he was hitting his palm with his rolled up copy of Book News, which he unfurled to display Jojo’s picture. ‘My dear girl, you’re literary Viagra. May I?’ He indicated a chair.

  Ohmigod. ‘Sure.’

  He pulled up the knees of his hand-tailored suit and sat down. ‘You’re quite the comer, aren’t you?’

  Just then Manoj stuck his head around the door and nodded at Jocelyn. ‘Wotcha, Jock. Sorry, Jojo, Eamonn Farrell is on, going mental. He was in Waterstones and they had twelve copies of Larson Koza’s book and only three of his. He’s talking about changing publishers. Shall I jerk him off and get rid of him?’

  ‘Shall you what?’ Jocelyn asked.

  ‘Jerk him off –’

  Jojo interrupted. ‘It means, like, to humour him and send him away happy. Tell him that there are twelve copies of Larson Koza’s because no one bought any. You know the drill.’

  ‘And what is the provenance of this pithy adage?’ Jocelyn asked. ‘Your law enforcement days?’

  ‘Um, yeah.’

  ‘Please explain.’

  Feeling like a performing seal, Jojo obliged. ‘Let’s see. Well, people sometimes came by the precinct, kvetching that there weren’t enough cops on their street. And they were totally right, there weren’t enough to go round. But we’d say, “Don’t worry, we’ve got lots of plain-clothes and undercover. You can’t see them but take it from me, they’re there.” And they went away happy.’

  ‘An exercise in psychology.’

  ‘You got it.’

  ‘Another example please.’

  Jojo itched to get to her emails but he was a nice old guy. And a partner.

  ‘Let me think. OK, a woman came into the precinct and said the CIA were spying on her through her plug sockets.’

  ‘Something similar happened to an aunt of mine,’ Jocelyn murmured. ‘MI5 instead of the CIA, but not a million miles away.’

  ‘That’s gotta hurt.’

  ‘I must admit, my dear – and it’s not so
mething I’m proud of – I found it terribly funny.’

  ‘OK. Well, my poor woman was a crazy and should have been in the hospital. When we took her home, she lived opposite a dress shop that had, like, mannequins in the window, so we told her that one of the mannequins was a plain-clothes policewoman and she’d look out for her.’

  ‘And she believed this?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘I see. “Jerk them off and get rid of them,”’ Jocelyn said, rolling the phrase around on his tongue. ‘Quite marvellous. I shall use it in future. Well, I must get on, my dear. Needs must, but perhaps you’ll join me for lunch some day soon.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘I think he likes you,’ Manoj said quietly, once he’d left.

  ‘Um.’

  ‘It’s good for the senior partners to like you.’

  ‘Um.’

  ‘I bet he wears his vest when he’s on the job.’

  ‘You’re gross.’

  Two minutes later

  ‘Louisa’s husband rang,’ Manoj said. ‘Her waters have broken.’

  ‘What, already? She’s not due –’

  ‘Two weeks early,’ Manoj confirmed.

  Good, Jojo thought. The sooner Louisa had her baby, the sooner she’d be back at her desk, no?

  ‘She’ll still take her full maternity leave.’ Manoj read her mind. ‘They always do. Now, we ought to send flowers.’

  ‘Who’s “we”, Paleface?’

  ‘You, I mean. Shall I organize it?’

  Lunchtime

  Manoj had gone out to buy a hot-water bottle and the whole floor was quiet. Jojo was eating an apple and reading Eamonn Farrell’s ‘difficult second novel’.

  She didn’t hear anyone come in, but somehow she sensed she was being watched and she jerked her head up from the manuscript.

  It was Mark.

  ‘You’re back!’

  She sat up straight. Happiness, she thought. A positive emotion triggered by seeing Mark Avery.

  Which was kind of nuts because, on paper, Mark Avery wasn’t so much of a catch. He didn’t have the tall, dark and handsome specifications usually required for the role of romantic hero. He was maybe five ten, but seemed shorter because he was bulky. Though his hair was darkish, there was no exotic olive colouring, just ordinary English skin and eyes. But it didn’t matter…

  He was smiling his head off. ‘I saw your questionnaire. You’re a class act, Jojo.’ He softened his voice. ‘And seven full hours, eh? Well, I’ll do what I can.’

  But before she got a chance to reply, there was the sound of chattering – some of the others back from lunch – and Mark was gone. They were so paranoid about being seen together that she was often left talking to his slipstream, the words dying in her mouth.

  18

  Four seconds later

  Jojo felt like jumping up and running after him, bruising her thighs against her desk in her haste – Jesus, she hadn’t seen him in a week – but she couldn’t.

  She tried to resume work, but Eamonn Farrell’s difficult second novel suddenly held no charm at all. Not that it had held much to begin with.

  Now how am I going to get any work done?

  But help was unexpectedly at hand.

  Thirteen and a half minutes later

  Pam burst in, closed the door and leant against it as though a pack of wild dogs was after her. She was hugging a manuscript tightly to her chest. She jabbed it with her finger and said hoarsely, ‘We’ve got a live one here.’

  Pam was Jojo’s reader. Each agent had one – it was how Jojo had started in agenting herself. The readers worked their way through the hefty pile of manuscripts that arrived every day at Lipman Haigh Agents. Occasionally they came across a winner but for the most part they had to discard them and write to the authors urging them not to give up their day job.

  It made Jojo think of a documentary she’d seen about Rio or Caracas – some Latin American city, anyway – where armies of poverty-stricken people made their living on the city garbage dump. Their days were spent picking through the piles of reeking trash, looking for anything of value to sell or barter with.

  ‘The first three chapters of something called Love and the Veil,’ Pam said. ‘It’s great.’

  ‘By who?’

  ‘Nathan Frey.’

  ‘Never heard of him. Gimme.’

  Two pages in Jojo was hooked. All her dials were up to ten and she was so psyched she almost forgot to breathe. How lucky was it that it had been Pam and not any of the other readers who had picked it up.

  When she finished the three chapters, she leapt up. ‘Manoj, call this guy. Tell him we’ve got to see the rest. Send a bike.’

  There was no point offering to represent Nathan Frey until she’d seen the entire book. It wouldn’t be the first time that a promising first three chapters had given way to talk of twelve-foot lizards ruling the world, in chapters four and further.

  TO: Jojo.harvey@LIPMAN HAIGH.co

  FROM: Mark.avery@LIPMAN HAIGH.co

  SUBJECT: You

  What Jojo gives – a horn blowing around 500.(4–2)

  M xx

  Jojo doodled with it. Some people have affairs, she thought, and learn Tantric sex. Me, I get tutored in cryptic crosswords.

  While she waited for Nathan Frey’s book, she scribbled on her pad. ‘What Jojo gives – a horn blowing around 500.’ Four letters, then two. Linked words. In Roman numerals, 500 was D. ‘Blowing around’ could indicate an anagram? A horn d? Daho-rn? Horn-ad? Then she got it and laughed. Hard-on.

  One (record-breaking) hour and fifty-five minutes later

  Manoj placed the entire manuscript in her hands, with as much care as if it were a baby.

  ‘Great. Oh great. Thank you.’

  ‘Hold all calls?’

  ‘You’re way ahead of me.’

  Jojo swung her feet up on her desk and disappeared into the book. It was a beautifully written love story about an Afghani woman and a secret service Brit. Bravo Two Zero meets Captain Corelli. One of those rare books that had suspense, pathos, humanity and lots of sex.

  A long time later

  Manoj stuck his head around the door. ‘Any lizards?’

  ‘Not yet. Looking good.’

  ‘We’re going to the pub now.’

  ‘You shiftless brat.’

  ‘It’s Friday night. Come to the pub. I’ve been here nearly three weeks and you haven’t bought me a drink yet. They say you got trousered with Louisa all the time.’

  ‘As if! She’s been pregnant for the last nine months. I’ve got to finish these pages, I’m too far in now to be able to stop.’ Especially because she had a great feeling there was going to be a tragic ending – which was likely to guarantee good reviews, possibly even a literary award.

  But Manoj was right, she used to go out more with the people from work. Rowdy Friday night vodkatini piss-ups which often ended with the available women going clubbing, scoping for men. But Jojo had met her man…

  She’d barely started reading again when someone else asked, ‘Coming for a drink?’

  Jim Sweetman, head of media and the youngest partner.

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘You don’t come out any more.’

  ‘Did Manoj send you in here?’

  Jim frowned. ‘Have I offended you? Did I try to snog you one drunken night?’

  ‘No. And you know how you can tell? Because you still have all your teeth.’ She laughed. ‘I’m finishing this great, great book then at nine, I’m seeing your hypnotist. To stop smoking, remember?’

  ‘Ah. Good luck.’

  ‘Nice weekend. Bye.’

  On she read, for twenty, maybe twenty-five minutes, and then she heard someone say, ‘What’cha doing?’

  Who now? But it was Mark. Flooded with well-being she smiled her widest smile. ‘Reading.’

  ‘When did you learn to do that?’

  She tipped back her chair, one foot on her desk and swivelled slightly. It was great to be able
to look at him for as long as she wanted. Most times at work she could only allow herself short side-long glances – she probably looked at Mark less than she looked at any of her other co-workers. And even then she feared that someone would pounce. ‘Aha! Busted! You were staring at Mark Avery. What’s going on with you and the Managing Partner?’

  ‘I thought you’d be gone home by now,’ she said.

  ‘Stuff to catch up on.’

  ‘How was your book fair?’

  ‘You should have come with me.’

  ‘Oh, should I have?’

  A smile spread slowly up to his eyes. ‘Don’t I get a kiss?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She used her foot to swing herself in her chair. ‘Do you?’

  He came behind her desk and she got to her feet. Arms around his neck, she rested her face against his and took a moment to absorb the sheer relief of his presence; his heat, the hard back-rest of his arms, his smell – not aftershave or cologne, just something unnamed and male. The knot of tension in her gut unwound, and floated free.

  Then she moved her head, letting the prickle of his stubble drag gently on her cheek, to find his mouth.

  ‘Jojo,’ Mark whispered, his face in her neck. They kissed again while he tried to slide his hand up under her jacket. In her ear his breath was hot and loud and the edge of her desk dug into her hip. Then he had opened her jacket buttons, his hand was on the pillowy softness of her breast and she was jelly-legged with longing.

  His erection was pressed against her and his hand was hard on her shoulders, trying to persuade her to the ground. He was strong and determined but Jojo resisted.

  ‘Everyone’s gone,’ he said, his fingers finding her nipple. ‘It’s OK.’

  ‘No.’ She slid away from him. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  No matter how badly she wanted him she would not have sex on her office floor. What did he think she was?

  19

  Even later on Friday evening

  Jojo, tell me about your father.

  ......................................Um....................... You’re kidding, right?.......................................................

  Tell me about your father.

  ......................................................... What are we, in a Woody Allen movie?................................. Excuse me, are you hearing me OK?...............................................................................