‘I told her she was worth more when I found her butt naked on the balcony with three of the Gossip Girl cast this morning,’ Jenny sighed. It was a beautiful image. ‘And she told me she was worth exactly seventeen point six million at the last count and could I bring up some clean towels. She’s eighteen. I’ve started to worry about my future as the next Oprah. Oprah wouldn’t want to knock her ass over the balcony.’
‘Try and refrain from manslaughter and remember it’s all material,’ I said, hanging up.
I checked my missed calls list.
Nothing.
I was so annoyed with myself. I really thought I’d got somewhere today and now, here I was, obsessing over why Alex hadn’t called me.
‘Why don’t you just call him?’ asked the little voice in my head. It seemed like a good idea, why didn’t I? Before I had the chance to second guess myself, I dialled and let it ring. And ring. And eventually, go to answer phone.
‘Hi, Alex, it’s Angela, uhhhhh,’ I started. One day I’m going to have the perfect answer phone message. Just not today apparently. ‘I just wondered if you wanted to do something tomorrow, but don’t worry if you’re busy or something. Talk to you later. Bye.’ I hung up and frowned.
Maybe I did need a little bit more stuff.
CHAPTER TWENTY
When Tyler rang my buzzer at seven, Alex still hadn’t called. I refused to think about what that did or didn’t mean and instead, took one last look in the mirror and checked out my make-up. It looked fairly good, better than I would have managed two weeks ago. And my new Nanette Lepore dress was gorgeous. Seriously though, why hadn’t Alex called? I checked my phone once more, then threw it into my (wonderful) bag and walked out of the door.
From the moment I ducked into the cab, I knew I should have cancelled. Tyler was his usual lovely self, asking me questions about my week, which I evaded by bouncing them right back.
‘Same old, same old,’ he smiled easily, directing the taxi driver downtown. ‘Been running a lot, work’s been a pain in the ass the last couple of days. I actually could really use a break. Just a couple of days away somewhere.’
‘Yeah,’ I said, staring out of the window, watching the Washington Square Arch zoom by. ‘It’s good to get away.’
‘You want to do it next weekend?’ he asked, squeezing my hand. He looked immaculate as usual. Yes, he was a city boy like Mark, but the similarities really did start and end there. His hair was ruffled from product, not a slightly off-putting nervous hair-tugging habit and his suit was immaculately cut, and I was fairly certain it wasn’t M&S crease-resistant. It certainly wasn’t machine-washable. ‘My friend has a house in the Hamptons, and he’s going to be away on business. You would love the Hamptons, parties to go to, it’s way cooler than in the city, and there’s the beach. Did you bring a swimsuit?’
‘Oh, uh, swimsuit?’ I asked, caught off guard. I’d been staring at his forearms for just a second too long. Was it wrong to have a fetish for forearms? They were more tanned than Alex’s, but maybe not as nice. Not that I was thinking about Alex. At all. ‘Where are we going tonight?’
‘Oh, Balthazar, it’s great. The moules frites are perfection, and it’s probably just cool enough for you,’ he teased. ‘Been to any gigs lately?’
‘Not since I saw you last.’ I didn’t want to think about gigs.
‘Are you OK?’ Tyler asked as the cab pulled up. ‘You seem a little out of it.’
‘No, I’m fine.’ It hardly seemed fair, mooning over Alex’s forearms when he hadn’t even called, and Tyler was here, taking me out to dinner, offering to take me away for the weekend. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve just been thinking about the website and stuff. My editor asked me to come in again, but I don’t really know what for. I suppose I’m a bit worried.’
‘It’s all good though, right?’ he asked, directing me inside. The restaurant was stunning, a packed-out little French bistro, crammed with beautiful people. More Brownie points for another amazing venue. ‘The website thing?’
‘You haven’t looked?’ I was half surprised and entirely relieved. ‘Apparently, it’s doing well.’
‘I did mean to take a look,’ he confessed, smiling comfortably at the maître d’ and sailing past the waiting couples. We were seated at a quiet corner table for two and quickly presented with iced water, bread, and champagne that Tyler had apparently preordered. I’d got so hot and bothered about a certain non-existent phone call, I’d forgotten how much fun it was to be with Tyler. ‘I’ve just been so busy at work and I hardly ever go online at home. Sorry, I’m glad it’s going so well though.’
‘Don’t be, I’d rather you didn’t look,’ I smiled, trying to invest myself in the date. ‘It’s completely embarrassing. This girl came up to me in a café this morning because she recognized me. I nearly died.’
‘If I’d known I was dating a celebrity, I’d have dressed up,’ he said, ordering appetizers for both of us. I could feel my brain turning to mush and a silly smile taking over my face. Sod the non-phoner.
‘I am not a celebrity!’ I wondered what he classed as dressing up. Relieved of his suit jacket, his shirt crisp and smart, and as usual, he smelled delicious. ‘And you know you look great.’
‘You don’t look too bad yourself. That’s a great dress,’ he grinned, tapping me under the table with his foot. ‘I can’t help but think you’d look better out of it though.’
‘Really,’ I laughed, colouring slightly as the waiter hovered at Tyler’s elbow with the champagne. I was starting to be glad I hadn’t cancelled, and also starting to worry as to whether or not I’d be able to keep my gorgeous new dress on at the end of the night. What a slut!
Dinner was divine. Tyler really knew his food, and for the most part, I managed to put Alex out of my mind. During the appetizers, we planned our dream holidays – me taking in a cross America road trip in a turquoise Cadillac, Tyler touring Europe in a private plane – and by the time the waiters cleared away our entrées, we’d covered favourite films, TV shows and books. At last I was really starting to think I knew something about Tyler.
‘And I already know you’re into your hipster music, right?’ Tyler smiled, accepting the dessert menu. ‘I bet you love all those skinny boys with greasy girls’ hair and band names that start with “The”.’
I smiled and shook my head, trying not to remember soft, smoky-smelling hair brushing against my lips. ‘What about you?’
‘I like everything, I guess,’ he shrugged. ‘I like all music.’
Biting my lip, I thought back to what Alex had said in the coffee shop. Saying you liked all music meant you didn’t love any. God, he was so arrogant. And why hadn’t he called me?
‘I just have to go to the bathroom,’ I excused myself, rifling through my (beautiful) bag before I’d even made it down the stairs. Shit, three missed calls. All from Alex. I ran my wrists under cold water in the bathroom, then towelled off before I dialled my voicemail, promising myself I’d only listen
