Friends and Rivals. Tilly Bagshawe

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      ‘I do.’ Kendall beamed, leaning across the table to kiss him. ‘I love them and I love you. Where would I be without you, my lovely Lex?’

      Lex’s heart beat so fast as she pressed her lips to his that he worried it might jump out of his chest and start throbbing away on the table. He closed his eyes, let the happiness rush through him and immediately heard the click click click of a camera shutter. This time it was Kendall who spun around, shaking her fist through the café window.

      ‘He’s my friend, asshole, OK? You can quote me on that. Read my lips: We are just fucking friends.’

      Lex’s happiness drained away like pus from a lanced boil.

       One day they’ll carve it on my tombstone: Just Fucking Friends.

      Jack Messenger pushed open his front door with a sigh of relief. It was good to be home.

      Jack didn’t enjoy travelling at the best of times, and this trip to England had been particularly stressful. He’d spent the entire eleven-hour flight home unable to concentrate, or to banish the vomit-inducing image of Ivan pumping away at that teenage violinist from his mind. Poor Catriona. A midlife crisis was embarrassing enough to watch, but Cat had to live with it. Or rather, she chose to live with it. That was the part that bothered Jack the most. The fact that even after all the betrayals, all the slip-ups and lies and bullshit, Catriona Charles was still in love with her husband. She still saw the Ivan she’d fallen in love with at Oxford. Whereas for Jack, that person, his friend, was all but gone.

      Dropping his suitcase on the floor, he wandered into his study. As usual it was immaculate, an oasis of calm and order in the frantic chaos of Jack Messenger’s professional life. He and Ivan used to joke that running a music management business was the best on-the-job training a psychotherapist could have. As managers they were part mentor, part friend, part boss, part life coach to some of the most talented, spoiled and rampantly fucked-up individuals on the planet. Life at Jester was equal parts exhausting and rewarding, but it was never dull. Jack loved it. But he also loved leaving it behind in the evenings and retreating behind the walls of his tranquil fortress.

      Sonya had designed and decorated the house, and her presence was still everywhere. Jack limited photographs of his wife to the master bedroom. He’d learned that having them around the house made some people feel uncomfortable, and prompted others to try and talk about his loss, something Jack was congenitally incapable of doing. But you couldn’t pick up a cushion or switch on a lamp, without being reminded of Sonya’s subtle, feminine taste, her love of colour and texture, her warmth. That was the one thing Jack Messenger missed most about his wife. The world was a colder place without her.

      Flipping open his calendar (Jack was still a pen and paper man where possible), he groaned. He’d totally forgotten he had a dinner date with Elizabeth tonight. Elizabeth Grey was Jack’s female companion of the moment. Nominally his ‘girlfriend’, though that wasn’t a word Jack himself ever used. She was a senior exec at Paramount – smart, funny, independent and kind, as well as beautiful in the classy, understated way that Jack liked: long hair, minimal make-up, slim without being scrawny. There was absolutely nothing wrong with Elizabeth, not one complaint that Jack could level at her. Except the fact that she wasn’t Sonya.

      Dialling her number, Jack was relieved to get the voicemail. ‘Hi, Liz. Listen honey, I’m sorry, I’m gonna have to bail on tonight. I’m totally wiped after my trip. I’ll call you tomorrow, OK? OK thanks. Sorry. Goodnight.’

      He hated how awkward he sounded. Somehow he couldn’t shake the feeling that dating at 40 automatically made you a jerk. Switching off his phone so Elizabeth couldn’t call him back, he padded into the kitchen for a snack when something caught his eye. The door to his wine cabinet was ajar. No bottles were missing. Everything else was as it should be. But Conception, Jack’s housekeeper, always locked that particular cabinet.

       Kendall.

      Kendall was curled up on the couch watching Two and a Half Men with Lex Abrahams when Jack burst in with a face like fury.

      ‘Have you taken wine from my house while I’ve been gone?’

      Kendall didn’t look up from the screen. ‘Hi, Kendall, hi, Lex. How are you? Nice to see you again,’ she said sarcastically.

      ‘Answer the question.’

      ‘Of course not! Jesus, so what, I’m a thief now?’

      ‘Not a thief. You replaced it,’ said Jack. ‘But you forgot to lock the wine closet afterwards. Where’s Kevin?’

      ‘He wasn’t feeling too good,’ said Kendall blithely. ‘So I sent him home and called Lex to come over and save me from my deepest, darkest urges. So far it’s going great.’ She raised a glass of Diet Coke in Jack’s direction. ‘How was England?’

      ‘Don’t change the subject,’ snapped Jack. ‘How much did you drink?’

      ‘It wasn’t Kendall,’ Lex piped up from the couch. ‘It was me. I’m sorry, I, er, I had a few friends over on Friday and I needed some decent vintage stuff, so I, er, I borrowed a couple of bottles. I replaced them at the wine merchant’s today. I must have forgotten to lock the, er, the closet.’

      Jack sighed. He liked Lex and was an ardent admirer of his work. But when it came to Kendall, he couldn’t be trusted. ‘Do yourself a favour, kid. Never go into acting. You suck at it.’

      ‘No, really …’ Lex protested.

      ‘Go home,’ said Jack. ‘Before I fire the both of you.’

      Lex left. Kendall continued watching TV defiantly until Jack picked up the remote and turned it off.

      ‘Hey! I was watching that!’

      ‘No you weren’t. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kick you off my books and out of my guesthouse right now.’

      ‘I’ll give you three,’ said Kendall. ‘I make you a ton of money. I’m the best female artist Jester has. And I didn’t take your stupid wine.’

      ‘You’re a liar.’

      Kendall tried not to show how hurt she was. Even after a long flight, in a crumpled shirt and chinos, Jack looked so insanely handsome it was torture. It was bad enough that he didn’t want her. But that he should disapprove of her too was more than she could bear. The fact that she’d brought it on herself was no consolation.

      ‘OK, fine. I was pissed at you for not taking me to Ivan’s party. I should have been there.’

      ‘You’ve never even met Ivan,’ said Jack.

      ‘So? I was invited.’

      ‘And you would have gone if you hadn’t proved once again that you can’t be trusted. You cannot drink, Kendall, OK? Some people can take their liquor. Others cannot.’

      He sounded exasperated because he was. Though she might not realize it, Jack was immensely fond of Kendall Bryce. He’d seen addictive personalities like hers before. They couldn’t do moderation. Kendall could no more stop at one drink than stop at one breath. It was all or nothing.

      ‘I’ve СКАЧАТЬ