What a Girl Wants (8 page)

I nodded, resting my chin on the balcony and trying not to gawp. Paige worked for
Gloss
magazine, coming up with the ideas for photoshoots and executing the creative. We had met in Hawaii and, after a few teething problems, she had come to my rescue more than once and, as everyone knows, a friendship forged in the fires of adversity is as strong as one that has weathered the test of time. Or something. One of the models caught me staring and flexed his pecs while flashing me a grin. This was the best reason I had come up with to get into fashion photography so far.

‘What are they doing exactly?’

‘It’s a lingerie shoot for the October issue,’ she explained. ‘Halloween vibe – hence the masks. But given that most women will never look like that girl in just their knickers, I thought it might soften the blow to chuck in something easy on the eye.’

‘Or four somethings,’ I clarified. ‘Are they their
actual
abs? They’re not drawn on or anything?’

‘You know, sometimes the photographer casts the models,’ she said. ‘And that photographer could be you.’

I gulped.

‘Look, only you know what you really want to do,’ Paige said, slapping me gently on the arm. ‘I really haven’t known you that long and I’ve only seen you as a photographer so I can only comment on that; and my comment is, you’ve got a raw talent not many people have. If it’s something you really want to pursue, now is the time. There won’t be many more opportunities like this. Make the most of it.’

I tried to make myself look away from the orgy of muscles and hair gel below and concentrate, my heart thrumming at the words ‘raw talent’.

‘I know it looks obvious from the outside,’ I said, playing with the hem of my stripy T-shirt. ‘But I really do love advertising. Maybe it doesn’t sound as sexy and exciting as being a photographer, but it is to me. It’s not like I was looking for something to save me from the dark, depressing days of a real job. Starting my own agency was something I used to dream about and let’s be real, it’s a more sensible option than starting out as a photographer at twenty-eight; it’s definitely more secure.’

Paige nodded slowly. ‘Starting out in the business isn’t easy,’ she admitted. ‘I’d hire you though.’

’Thanks,’ I said with a smile.

‘You’d be cheap,’ she added.

‘Thanks,’ I said without a smile.

‘So, only you can answer the question.’ Paige shrugged her shoulders, sending her long curtain of blonde hair cascading down her back. I made a mental note to ask her which conditioner she used before I left. And then to scalp her. ‘Is it going to be photography or advertising?’

‘That’s not really the question though, is it?’ Amy barrelled up the stairs behind me and blew into Paige with a hug so aggressive, anyone would have been forgiven for thinking she hadn’t seen her in ten years. It had been three days. And that was the first time they had ever met. Five seconds later, she dropped Paige in a heap and hurled herself across the sofa to treat me to the same hello.

‘You got my text then?’ I choked when she finally let me go. Amy nodded, her black hair glossy under the studio lights and her polka-dot shorts riding up dangerously high as she leapt up and threw herself towards the mezzanine railings.

‘Fuck me,’ She spun around to face us and pointed down at the shoot below. ‘I’ll take the blond. Or the brunette.’

‘Which one?’ Paige asked.

‘I don’t care,’ Amy replied. ‘This is
amazing
.’

‘Didn’t you have a job interview today?’ I asked. ‘How did it go?’

‘Shit,’ she said, pinching the tight skin above her exposed belly button. ‘It was for TopShop. They wanted me to work weekends. And they kept asking me whether or not I thought I was reliable and professional.’

‘Well, yeah, I think most Topshops are open on the weekend.’ I didn’t bother to ask if that was what she had worn to the interview because I already knew that it was. But what did I know? Maybe nothing said ‘please give me a job in fashion retail’ more than denim polka-dot shorts and a cropped pink T-shirt bearing the slogan ‘It’s not me, it’s you’. I think you’re reliable and professional.’

It was a lie. I thought she was reliable when it came to turning up on my doorstep with a bag full of Galaxy and three bottles of wine, but I thought she was horribly unreliable and, if possible, even more unprofessional when it came to keeping a job. And mostly I thought that because it was true. In and out of retail jobs, a brief flirtation with teacher training and a puppy love infatuation with the idea of becoming a twenty-first century Avon lady, Amy had a commitment problem when it came to work. And men. And everything else on earth.

However, that didn’t seem like a helpful opinion in that moment so I kept my mouth shut and smiled. Amy gave me a cheerful grin in return and slipped her arm through mine. Ours was a long-term love affair. We’d been friends since before we could talk and some days I wished we could go back to those times. Like now.

‘That is very good to know,’ she said with a big grin. ‘Because I’ve been thinking. You clearly can’t work out whether to shit or wind your watch without help so I’m coming to Milan with you.’

‘No you aren’t,’ I said, stunned.

‘I am,’ she corrected. ‘I’m going to be your assistant. Like that lady down there.’

I peered over the balcony and saw an exhausted, harangued-looking girl rubbing oil into one of the model’s chests.

‘You might actually need an assistant,’ Paige said, shrugging. ‘And god knows, you do need a life coach. Like, all the time.’

‘And that’s what I’m here for.’ Amy spread out her arms with a flourish. ‘I can fetch, carry and make sure you don’t ruin your life, all at the same time.’

‘Amy, I—’

‘I’m a great multitasker,’ she added, nodding at Paige.

I sat and stared at my best friend, clicking the tips of my bitten-down fingernails together.

‘Tess …’ Amy reached across the sofa and took both my hands in hers. ‘It’s going to be awesome.’

Why did her words sound more like a threat than a promise?

‘I’ll have to clear it with my agent,’ I muttered, accepting defeat far too easily. I’d never been able to say no to Amy. It was like denying a pitbull puppy a treat. So little and cute, you couldn’t bear to turn it down and you kind of knew that if you did, it would rip your hand off and take it anyway.

‘Now, are we still pretending to talk about work? Is this yours?’ she asked me, letting go of my hands and reaching over to grab a full-to-the-brim glass of white wine from the coffee table. ‘Amazing, thank you.’

‘What else would we be talking about?’ Paige asked, straightening her pink silk top and grabbing her own wine to get it out of Amy’s reach. It was nice to see the new friends had at least one thing in common: getting hammered in the middle of a work day.

‘Nothing,’ I replied as fast as I could, quietly glad that Amy had taken away my wine. I was not a good drinker. ‘One hundred per cent work talk only.’

‘If you really want to go for the advertising job as much as you say you do, maybe you should go for it.’ Paige casually glanced over at the shirtless men, flickered an eyebrow and shook her head. ‘Photography won’t be the easy option.’

‘Yeah, and maybe you could even go from working six days a week to the full seven?’ Amy replied. ‘I’m sure it would only freak you out to have to spend your birthday with your friends instead of in the office. Or Christmas. Or New Year.’

‘You work over Christmas?’ Paige looked horrified. Then took a drink. Then looked horrified again.

‘No, it’s fine,’ Amy said, waving her hands and her wine around in the air. ‘Tess isn’t normal. Tess is a martyr. She’s happiest when she’s miserable.’

Paige nodded. ‘That explains why she went for Nick.’

‘I’m happiest when I’m busy,’ I said before Amy could pounce on the mention of his name. ‘There’s a difference.’

For the want of a better plan, I picked up an empty glass and poured in a couple of slugs of wine. I was not a big drinker for good reason. More than three drinks and I could not be held responsible for my actions. More than four and I couldn’t remember them anyway. But this definitely felt like a legitimate wine-to-the-rescue moment. Amy took hold of my wrist, raising the glass to my mouth, and I drank obediently, disappointed in my appalling lack of willpower.

‘How do you feel right now?’ Paige asked. ‘If you had to make the decision right now, pick one and never do the other ever again, which would it be?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said, wishing I didn’t see Nick and Charlie in my head when she asked that question. ‘I had a plan, you know? I knew where I was going and I knew what I wanted. And now it’s like, boom! decision time. But if I make the wrong decision, what happens then? I’m buggered. Completely buggered and miserable and I die alone with seventeen cats all called Steve. It’s too hard.’

‘Have I missed something? How does picking the wrong job leave you as a crazy cat lady?’ Paige looked swiftly from me to Amy and back again. ‘Were you drinking before you got here?’

‘She’s not drunk,’ Amy said, patting my hand as though I was a deranged nana. ‘She’s just not really thinking about the jobs, are you?’

‘Oh, bloody hell.’ Paige rolled her eyes. ‘And we were doing so well at avoiding the subject of cock. OK. Hang on a sec, I just need to set up this last shot and then we can get trashed and talk about this properly.’

Trashed? I looked at my watch. It was barely even three o’clock.

Amy looked at me with a ‘well?’ expression, an already empty wine glass in her hand. I genuinely didn’t know where she put it; the woman was miniscule and drank more than Lindsay Lohan on the average Thursday.

‘What?’ I picked up my glass and gave my wine one more sip. ‘Spit it out.’

‘Have you explained it all to Charlie?’ she asked.

‘No.’

‘Have you heard from the other one?’

‘No.’

Just then, my text message alert sounded loudly in the bottom of my handbag and every internal organ jumped. Even my spleen wanted to know who was it was from. It was Charlie.

One by one, my organs settled back into their usual positions, consoling each other on their way down. I didn’t know why I was surprised. Nick wasn’t going to call. Nick wasn’t going to call. Nick wasn’t going to call. And no matter how many times I told myself that, it did not feel any better.

‘Speak of the devil,’ I said, my voice unexpectedly scratchy. ‘Charlie wants to know where we are.’

‘Tell him to fuck the fuck off, we’re talking
about
him, not
to
him,’ Amy replied. ‘You thought it was Nick, didn’t you?’

‘It’s fine,’ I said for the millionth time, tapping out a quick message to Charlie. ‘Everything is fine.’

‘So,’ Paige reappeared at the top of the stairs with her hands on her annoyingly slim hips, ‘can we please get to the bottom of this?’

‘Yes please.’ Amy cocked her head to one side and squinted at me. ‘But we’ve been going too easy on her. Tess, quick-fire decision time: Charlie or Nick?’

‘There
is
no decision to make.’ I could hear my voice rising along with my blood pressure as I spoke every syllable. ‘You know we’re not talking about him.’

‘The name Nick is
verboten
,’ Amy explained to Paige. ‘I’m not allowed to mention him, even though she’s been checking her phone to see if he’s called every other second since Monday night.’

‘Well,
I
haven’t agreed to that,’ Paige replied. ‘So she’s going to
have
to talk about it, isn’t she?’

‘Can I have another drink, please?’ I asked, holding out my suddenly empty glass.

‘What do you want?’ She reached over to the small fridge beside her. ‘Wine, champagne, beer, Pimm’s in a can – ick – or I think there’s some vodka in the freezer? I bet one of the models is holding, if you want anything else.’

‘Holding what?’ I asked.

‘Bless her, she’s very naïve,’ Amy said, rolling off the settee and crawling into the fridge to grab the other bottle of white. ‘So, Nick or Charlie? If you had to marry one and throw the other off the side of a boat?’

‘Why are we having this conversation when there is no Nick in the equation?’ I asked. I hated myself for it but even saying his name out loud made me want to do a little cry. The sharp ‘k’ sound at the end of his name seemed to hang in the air forever and I felt like I’d been punched. ‘There is only Charlie.’

‘And if this was three weeks ago, you would be jumping up and down and picking out Tiffany engagement rings by now,’ Amy replied. ‘So how come you’re sitting here, drinking Paige’s wine with a face like an arse instead of at Charlie’s, drinking his wine and throwing out all his porn?’

All four of the male models looked up at us with their blank, handsome faces. The female model didn’t even blink.

I blinked. I refilled my glass. I sighed. My daydreams of being in love with Charlie and Charlie being in love with me rarely got as far as domesticity and I felt like a dog that had been chasing a car – I finally had what I’d always wanted and now what was I supposed to do with it?

‘I know I should be stashing my pink toothbrush next to Charlie’s toothbrush and doing a happy dance,’ I said. ‘I don’t know what’s going on with me.’

‘You’re such a liar.’ Was it just me or did Paige look a little bit annoyed? ‘Just admit it.’

‘I need time to think about things.’ I was not going to say it. ‘Charlie was totally cool about it.’

‘Good for Charlie,’ she replied. ‘I don’t want to be biased or anything, but I’ve got to be honest, I really don’t see any competition. I know Nick is hot and everything but Tess, he’s such a twat.’

‘I know,’ I nodded. There was that sick feeling again. Why did I want to defend him? She was right, after all.

‘And Charlie fucked up, he did, but he’s only a man,’ she went on. ‘Vanessa is hot and we’ve only got to look at Angelina Jolie to know that men have no control over themselves when it comes to hot women. Brad cheated on Jen because of a hot woman. On
Jen
, Tess, Rachel from
Friends
. Do you see what I’m saying?’

‘Sort of …’ I frowned.

‘You weren’t together when it happened, you know. You can’t hold this against him forever.’