bit of a diva and his son is going to explain what’s going on.’
‘He has a son?’ I was a bit surprised. But then, as Amy often liked to remind me, even Elton John was married.
‘Yeah, he’s taking over the business. Has taken over the business. I don’t know, actually, I’m only the art director. They tell me naahthing.’
‘So Nick’s going to interview the son?’ I was confused. And still so very tired. It was all I could do not to swipe that coffee cup out of her perfectly manicured hand.
‘I don’t know.’ Paige shook her head. ‘If it’s all we get, it’s all we get. But will anyone care? I mean, who wants to know about the business brain? How often do you read about Robert Duffy compared with Marc Jacobs?’
‘Who?’ I asked.
‘You are funny,’ she said. ‘I keep forgetting you’re not actually Vanessa. Or in fashion. Or a photographer.’
Exactly what I needed to be reminded of first thing in the morning.
‘Not that I’ve got time to worry about that.’ She slapped my duvet-covered arse and stood up. ‘Come on, out of bed. Up and at ’em.’
‘You’re looking very fresh considering the state of you last night,’ I commented on my way into the bathroom. Paige followed. Surely she didn’t think we were going to chat while I had a shower? She sat down on the toilet, lid down, and looked up at me, wide eyes bright and sparkling. Oh. She did.
‘Berocca, eye drops and four of these,’ she said, holding up the coffee. ‘And I work in fashion, darling. If you can’t get your shit together the morning after, you may as well fuck off to the teen mags where no one cares what state you’re in.’
‘Nice.’ I turned on the shower, waited for it to steam up the glass screen and pulled my clothes off as quickly as possible, disappearing under the stream of red-hot water and rinsing off all the residual sleep and sex.
‘Anyway, what state did you come home in?’ Paige shouted over the shower. ‘Why are your clothes all over the living room? Did you get lucky or are you just a scruffy cow?’
‘Scruffy cow,’ I yelled as fast as I could. ‘I was just so tired I couldn’t wait to get into bed. And drunk. I was drunk.’
I hadn’t forgotten Paige throwing herself at Nick the night before. Conveniently, I had completely forgotten it while I was having all of the sex with him, but now it was a very clear memory, shining brightly in the front of my mind. And it did not fill me with joy.
‘Is Nick coming to the meeting?’ I asked as casually as humanly possible.
‘In theory.’ Paige’s reply was full of equally feigned nonchalance. ‘I sent him a text. He wasn’t answering when I knocked on his door. I hope he isn’t dead.’
‘Ha, me too,’ I agreed, not entirely sure I meant it. ‘So, tell me how you know him?’
‘Oh, we’ve worked together a few times over the years – different mags and stuff, you know? He’s always been a bit of a flirt, I’ve always been a bit of a flirt. Nothing serious, though – he’s just not that kind of bloke.’
‘What kind of bloke?’ I scrubbed myself red-raw with coconut-scented shower gel to get every last trace of him off me in case I didn’t like her answer.
‘The decent kind,’ she laughed. ‘The kind that takes you out for dinner and says nice things and texts in between shags.’
‘So you’ve slept with him?’ I poked my head out of the shower and grabbed a towel, suddenly feeling very sick. This must have been exactly how Vanessa didn’t feel when she realized we’d both had sex with Charlie.
‘Oh no.’ She flapped her empty hand around her face. ‘Not for the want of trying. I don’t know – I really like him, but he doesn’t do girlfriends. Everyone knows that and I’m not one of those girls who shags the guy she likes, even though he’s a tosspot, and hopes he’ll eventually realize how great she is. That’s just asking for trouble.’
‘What if it’s a guy you don’t like?’
‘Entirely different matter.’ Paige stood up and ventured back into the bedroom. ‘Get dressed, we’re going to be late. We can discuss my plan to make an honest man out of Nick Miller later.’
‘Can’t wait,’ I said weakly.
Bleurgh.
I could hardly believe how fresh-faced Kekipi looked when we got to the main house. Even though I hadn’t been that drunk and had managed to grab at least six hours of decent sleep, I was fully aware that I looked like shit, whereas he and Paige looked like they were fresh out of the spa. And I never looked like shit because I always got a full eight hours’ and I never spent Tuesday nights drinking cocktails with fifteen gay strangers and banging a bad man. Either someone was going to have to teach me how to use concealer or I was going to have to go back to my old life sooner than anticipated.
‘Can I get you anything else to eat?’ Kekipi asked, the very model of professionalism, while gesturing towards the spread already laid out on the table. ‘Mr Bennett will be with you momentarily.’
‘I’d take your arm off for a fried-egg butty,’ Paige muttered, turning her head away from all the sushi on the table. However fresh she looked, she clearly didn’t feel it. ‘Fish? For breakfast?’
‘Mr Bennett’s request,’ Kekipi explained. ‘One fried-egg butty. And Miss Vanessa?’
‘Oh, that’s me,’ I said, just slightly too loudly. Paige quirked an eyebrow and shook her head. ‘I’m fine, actually. Thank you.’
As soon as he was gone, I grabbed a plate and piled it high with tiny sugary-looking pastries. I needed carbs and I needed them now.
‘Before we start, are you actually going to be able to pull this off?’ Paige asked, looking me dead in the eye. ‘This whole Vanessa thing?’
‘Yes?’ I didn’t even sound like I believed myself. ‘It’s fine.’
‘Good,’ she replied. ‘Because if you fuck up now I know, we’ll both be in for it.’
‘Really, though …’ I choked down a mini Danish and shrugged. ‘What would happen if someone found out? How bad could it be?’
‘Bennett would probably pull the interview altogether. I’d get fired. The magazine would probably sue Vanessa’s agent. They’d definitely sue you.’ she started to tick off the options on her fingers. ‘Bennett could sue us. The possibilities are endless. They mostly involve people getting sued.’
I lowered the pastry back down to the plate.
‘I really hadn’t thought past Vanessa kicking the shit out of me,’ I whispered. ‘Bloody hell.’
‘And that’s assuming the photos are good enough to use in the first place,’ Paige smiled sweetly. ‘If they aren’t, assume all of that and more.’
‘Good photos.’ I stared at my feet. ‘Gotcha.’
