Getting Even

  As Dan stood poised to sit back down beside him, slopping beer unsteadily as he did so, Rob decided to up the ante. After all, he’d been patiently listening to Dan tell him how much he loved Orianna, yet when Rob tried to get him to clarify precisely why things had gone irretrievably wrong, Dan couldn’t begin to explain. He was simply insistent that they couldn’t communicate properly, didn’t understand each other, and were on different planes. If this wasn’t a euphemism for diverging sexual paths, what was? To Rob, who’d had a few affairs with women as a teenager that had been similarly confusing and dissatisfactory, it was obvious. Orianna wouldn’t ever satisfy Dan. Not only emotionally, but physically.

  “Shall we go downstairs?” he ventured.

  “Why? I’m alright here, aren’t you?” It was true they had a table to themselves.

  “Have a dance?”

  Dan frowned. “I don’t—er—like dancing.”

  “Really?” Rob was bewildered. Hadn’t Ivy said Dan had been seen at G-A-Y? If he didn’t like dancing, why go?

  But then Dan elaborated, “I love dance music—just not dancing.”

  “They play better music downstairs. We can sit and listen, if you prefer.”

  Dan appeared happier. “OK,” he said amiably. “Let’s go.”

  Rob led the way down the spiral staircase. The basement was red-lit, smoky, and the sound system pulsed heavily and hard.

  The beat subtly shifted, and Dan bellowed, “I love this one!” over the laid-back intro. He stood gulping his beer, taking in the surroundings. Shortly, as a catchy keyboard melody segued into the mix, he started tapping his foot.

  Good, Rob thought, he’s relaxing. And he knew a surefire way to speed that up: “Fancy a chaser?”

  “Oh, um, yeah, why not?” Dan grinned, and followed Rob over to the bar.

  As they leaned their elbows against the cool surface, Rob was acutely conscious of the proximity of Dan’s forearms to his own. Aah, he sighed to himself. When we were roommates, Chloë and I spent many a happy hour contemplating the unique appeal of male forearms. And whether it was the dark hairs that promised an equally hirsute chest, the thick wrists that hinted at real muscular strength, the understated watch, or the uncannily beautiful hands, didn’t matter. Dan had a fine physique all around, and it was everything Rob could do to restrain himself from reaching out and touching him.

  With a stroke of luck, at that moment the bartender came to take their order, and as Rob leaned forward to ask for two tequilas, his forearm brushed against Dan’s, almost of its own accord. It was a way of gauging things without seeming too obvious, and Dan didn’t flinch or try to pull away.

  Exhilarated, Rob led them to an alcove and sat down. Dan plonked himself next to him and—to Rob’s delight—drained his tequila in one gulp. Rob did the same. His ability to rationalize was now reduced further; his actions governed by lust, not reason.

  Rob edged closer to Dan so that his thigh was ever so slightly pressed up against his. He slipped his arm around the back of the sofa—not so close that it was in contact with Dan—but close enough so other punters would realize Dan was his territory. Steer clear, the gesture indicated.

  “Tell me,” he said, with more than a touch of flirtation in his voice, “has it made you think again about women at all, this stuff with Orianna?”

  “What do you mean?” Dan furrowed his brow.

  “I just wondered…” Rob ran his finger suggestively around the top of his tequila glass, “whether it’s made you, well, think … that they’re more trouble than they’re worth?”

  Dan snorted. “Too bloody right.”

  Rob nodded in sympathy.

  “Keep this to yourself, obviously, but I’m probably going to look for another job.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Get out of Green. It’s all too heavy for me, frankly. Too much gossip; too many people knowing my business.”

  Hmm, thought Rob. I wonder if you’re frightened someone’s going to blow the lid on your sexuality. Sounds that way to me. But he realized Dan might not be ready to admit as much without some gentle guidance. “I mean forgive me for saying so—I’m sure Orianna’s a very nice girl and everything, when I met her I really liked her—but nevertheless, you could say … her behavior as you’re describing it, all these neuroses about other girls and so forth—it does seem a mite, well, irrational…”

  “You’re telling me.” Dan nodded vigorously. “I really don’t get it.”

  “That’s women for you,” said Rob. He felt slightly guilty at condemning an entire sex but his focus was not on fair play.

  “You think?”

  “Sure.” Rob took a large gulp of beer. “They’re from Venus, remember?”

  “Different species,” agreed Dan.

  “Prefer Martians myself.” Rob laughed, and Dan laughed with him, loud and long.

  This is my sign, Rob decided. He leaned forward, and before he had the chance to reconsider, kissed Dan full on the lips. Dan’s mouth was wonderfully warm and soft, a sensation made more erotic by the way his stubble rubbed against Rob’s skin.

  As Rob sat back, it took him a second to gauge Dan’s reaction. Dan hadn’t recoiled, so at first Rob was sure he’d done the right thing. Although Dan looked faintly surprised, Rob was convinced this must be because he was anticipating another more intimate and exciting move. After all, Dan’s mouth was open.

  But as Dan’s expression took shape, Rob realized with mounting horror, that the look on his face wasn’t one of pleasure, or anything approaching it. His gaping jaw was the result of speechlessness. Oh Lord, thought Rob. For he could tell this was the aghast response of a totally straight boy when confronted by the utterly unexpected—a thoroughly unwelcome pass from someone of his own gender.

  * * *

  Hell, thought Ivy, sneaking into the loo for another little snifter, so what if I’ve got work tomorrow? I know I promised to call Ed when I got home, but it’ll keep. It is my birthday, after all.

  She inhaled, first up one nostril, then the other. Yes! Who needed alcohol, when there was cocaine? The night was young. She’d an urge to text Russell. He’d turned down the invitation to join them all at Cassio’s after work, explaining he had an agency project he wanted to finish off at home. Earlier Ivy had been content to leave him to it, but the cocaine high meant the need to fulfill her dominatrix fantasy was more urgent. Still, however keen she was for speedy gratification, she couldn’t resist a witty text, so tapped:

  On my birthday I like to tie up my own presents … Thought I’d make my way over to yours so we can see in All Hallows Eve in X-rated style together. OK?

  Then she quickly replenished her lipstick and went back upstairs, where Orianna was waiting on a stool pulled up at the bar. The rest of their colleagues had gone home long since, protesting they didn’t have the stamina for late-night drinking.

  “Isn’t it funny,” Ivy mused, confidence increased by the drug, “to think of the last time we came here together?”

  Orianna looked doubtful. “I’m not sure funny is exactly the word I’d use.”

  “Oh, OK, not funny then,” said Ivy lightly. “Interesting.”

  “Mm.” Orianna nodded.

  “We’ve come a long way since, though, haven’t we?” Ivy smiled.

  “Er … yes,” said Orianna. “A lot’s happened…” Her voice trailed off, and she looked away. Ivy knew she was thinking about Dan, and how they’d still been together then. Ivy had believed Orianna was getting over him, but this was a clear indication that she wasn’t. That Orianna continued to view events in terms of how they related to her relationship with Dan, rather than to their friendship, upset Ivy, and from her upset sprang malice. A touch of spite was all she needed to lose her restraint; combined with cocaine confidence, it gave her the incentive to reveal the fact that she’d been withholding the entire evening.

  “Cassie’s pregnant,” she said.

  The color drained from Orianna’s cheeks. “What?”

/>   “Cassie’s pregnant,” Ivy repeated.

  “No!” A howl of intense anguish, then Orianna’s face crumpled and she fell silent.

  Ivy felt remorse. She and Orianna had become much closer again; she was even beginning to believe she might be able to forgive her at some point—not yet, but one day. Seeing Orianna’s face contorted like this, she had an impulse to reveal the baby wasn’t Dan’s, but Leon’s. But she pulled herself up short. What a stupid idea! Of course she couldn’t. Such a confession would only expose not just all the lies she’d told regarding Dan and his supposed affairs, but also the information she’d withheld about who Cassie was really sleeping with. No, she was in too deep to start being honest. And although Ivy had a nagging doubt this fabrication might backfire on her, at this point the only way forward was to continue. “Yes, indeed.”

  Eventually Orianna regained her voice. “How do you know? Did she tell you?”

  “Not yet she hasn’t, no.”

  “Oh?” Orianna looked hopeful for a second. “So she might not be, then?”

  If Ivy couldn’t alter her tactics, at least she could adopt a kind manner to alleviate her guilt. “I’m afraid, sweetheart, that I’m pretty sure she is. Sorry.”

  Orianna was crestfallen. “Honestly?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t want to tell you until I was positive.”

  “Oh.”

  Ivy noticed Orianna’s hands had started to shake. Oh dear, she thought, conscience pricked further. She took hold of one of Orianna’s hands and squeezed it; whether to make herself or Orianna feel better she didn’t quite know.

  “What makes you certain?”

  Orianna was speaking so softly that Ivy had to lean closer to hear her. Ivy took a deep breath. Here at least she could be truthful. “Well, the first thing I noticed was several weeks ago. She seemed to be spending hours in the loo.”

  “But she’s always done that,” protested Orianna, hope rising in her voice.

  “I know, I know,” agreed Ivy patiently. “So I wanted to be sure, and I am—she’s had morning sickness. In fact, not merely morning sickness, but afternoon sickness too. Even Cassie couldn’t spend that much time repairing her makeup.”

  “I suppose she has been looking a bit rough recently. I just assumed that was because she and Dan were … well, that she wasn’t getting much sleep.”

  “Anyway, I think she’s over the worst of that now.”

  “You do? Perhaps it was nothing, then. Although…”

  Ivy detected that she was bracing herself. “Mm?”

  “You could be right…”

  Ivy chivvied, “Don’t you think she might be a bit plumper, too?”

  “Again, I thought that was going out with Dan.” Orianna’s voice was small. “He likes his food so much. I suppose I didn’t like to look at her too closely—I’ve been avoiding her.”

  She glanced up and smiled at Ivy, weakly. “You’ve helped me manage that by getting her off my back. Thanks.”

  “That’s OK.” There was a long silence.

  “And it’s hard to tell exactly what she’s been wearing lately.”

  “Precisely. All that loose flowing stuff—ghastly! We should christen her the bag lady!” Ivy laughed, attempting to lighten the conversation. “And tonight she refused a glass of champagne, whereas normally she’d happily have at least one.”

  Orianna narrowed her eyes, recollecting. “Oh, now that you mention it, she did. Dan got her that juice, didn’t he?”

  “Yes.” There was another silence. Ivy waited, conscious Orianna had a lot to assimilate.

  At last Orianna said, “Christ, how awful. Awful.” Her eyes filled with tears. “So how many months do you think she is?”

  “I don’t know.” Ivy shrugged. “Four? Something like that?”

  “But Dan and I broke up less than eight weeks ago! That must mean she got pregnant while Dan was going out with me!”

  Lord, thought Ivy, imagine working out the sums that quickly. She knows when she and Dan split to the actual day. “Er … maybe…” she muttered.

  “Oh, Ivy! I don’t know if I can handle all this. I really don’t.” Tears streamed down Orianna’s cheeks.

  “Of course you can!” said Ivy, suddenly stricken that Orianna would be the colleague she’d lose, not Cassie. Although she still resented Orianna’s professional supremacy intensely, she didn’t necessarily want her to leave the agency.

  Who knows what will happen then, she thought, who might be brought in to replace her? Whereas Orianna and I have been doing lots of nice work together recently and if things carry on the way they are, Orianna could even see to it that I get promoted to creative director too. Either that or Trixie will find me a job—she’s only put a couple of suggestions my way so far but obviously it takes time when you’re at my level of seniority—and then I’ll be the one to move somewhere new.

  Orianna sighed. “Honestly, I’m not sure I can. Lord knows, it’s been tough enough already. But seeing Cassie getting bigger and bigger before my eyes, and what will everyone at Green say?”

  “I’ll take care of that,” said Ivy, matter-of-factly.

  “How?”

  “I’ll tell Cassie she’d better keep quiet about who the father is,” said Ivy. “If she wants to keep her job. Put up and shut up, I’ll say. You know I’m good at getting people to do that.”

  “Thanks,” said Orianna quietly. “That would make life a bit easier.” She stopped, then added, “Jesus, Ivy, you don’t think he’ll marry her, do you?” And at this thought, she couldn’t hold back any longer, and began to wail.

  For a brief moment Ivy could see the humor in it all; here they were causing a scene in Cassio’s again. But she could hardly point this out, and instead said vehemently, “God, no! I’m sure he won’t.” Then she reached across the bar for a napkin and handed it to Orianna.

  Orianna wiped her eyes. “You never know … what with their both being Jewish, and all.”

  Ivy shook her head. “You know me, honey, my instinct is usually pretty good. I truly don’t think he’ll marry her.” Ivy remained niggled by guilt, so at least could reassure her on this front. “Let’s face it, if he was seriously into her he’d be more public about their affair, wouldn’t he? He’d think bugger the consequences?”

  “He might just be doing that to be kinder to me.”

  This is unbelievable, thought Ivy. She’s still potty about him! Will Orianna never learn? Once more she felt a mite spiteful. “Or not wanting everyone in the agency to think he’s a prick.”

  But Orianna’s mournfulness continued unabated. “I suppose a part of me hoped…” Her voice dropped to a whisper, as if she could barely face saying it. “Well, that it would be me, having children with Dan.”

  “Of course.” Although this was the first Ivy had heard of it directly, she wasn’t surprised Orianna felt this way. Unlike Ivy, who didn’t concede to a maternal bone in her body, Orianna had made no secret of the fact she wanted children. They never talked about it, but it was an unspoken understanding. But at least, thought Ivy, Orianna wasn’t one of those desperate women so broody they’d use a turkey baster to impregnate themselves. A born romantic, Orianna believed children should be the result of a happy union, preferably a marital one—she’d always said so.

  Orianna sniffed. “I’m sorry. You must be sick of me crying.”

  “No, no, not at all.”

  “But I’m ruining your birthday.”

  “Don’t be silly!”

  “You know what? I think I’d like to go home.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I just want to be on my own for a bit. If we go now”—Orianna checked her watch—“I can still catch my train.”

  “True.” Ivy nodded, thinking and I can get laid.

  While they were waiting for the bill, Ivy dashed to the loo for another quick snort, purely to ensure she maximized her stamina for Russell. At the train station she gave her friend a hug. Orianna had momentarily stopped weeping.
/>
  “Will you be OK?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Orianna forced a faint smile. “You gonna get a cab?”

  “Mm.” Ivy was elusive.

  “I’ll see you in the morning then.” She disappeared into the crowd.

  Just then Ivy’s mobile beeped to indicate a message. Ah, good, it must be Russell. She opened the text.

  Still tied up in work matters. No can do to the X-rated version. Catch up with you tomorrow.

  Ivy was incredulous. Russell—refusing a shag? In order to work? It was totally out of character. And it was her birthday! As his words sank in, she grew more enraged. The tone was so insouciant, it was downright insulting. And now, thanks to him, she was wide awake at midnight in the middle of Soho, with no one to hang out with and nowhere to go.

  33. I must leave her company

  To: Everyone

  From: Dan Cohen

  Date: Monday, November 24, 11:15

  Subj: Fond farewell

  This may come as something of a surprise to some of you, but I will get straight to the point. I’m leaving Green. I am taking vacation time in lieu of notice, so will depart at the end of next week.

  After much deliberation, I have decided to go freelance to give myself time to consider what my next permanent move should be.

  Lastly, owing to the personal nature of my departure, I won’t be having a farewell drink.

  May I take this opportunity to say how much I have enjoyed working with everyone.

  All the best,

  Dan

  Well, that’s it, thought Orianna. He’s leaving and I find out through an e-mail. He might have had the guts to tell me himself. It sounds so formal, not like Dan remotely. “The personal nature of my departure” indeed! It’s me and Cassie he’s talking about! Why doesn’t he have the balls to say so? I could have helped him phrase it: “I’ve fucked around with women, perhaps even the occasional man, and I’ve fucked up” would be more appropriate.