Air Kisses (26 page)

To my right was a dense crowd of tall people. I saw a mass of blonde hair through them and a hand flying around. That was Fi. I navigated my way through, not looking up until I got to her corner.

And when I did, I saw who her hand gestures were for. And who had his arms around her. And who was leaning down and fake-nuzzling her boobs as she screamed with laughter. And who kissed her when he stopped nuzzling.

It was Dan.

I thought I was going to be sick.

I hadn’t even known he was in the country.

The whole party blurred around me. I felt dizzy. I grabbed
a guy next to me for support; he didn’t even notice. I let go and steadied myself. I couldn’t quite make sense of what I was seeing.

I watched as she fell forward onto him, and he fell back onto the table, and they nearly knocked the whole thing over. They laughed and laughed.

His eyes were red, glassy and he could barely stand up straight.

She was smoking, meaning she was really drunk.

He kept licking his lips, which is what he did when he was really drunk.

She kept flicking her hair, which is what she did when she was playing sexy.

He was grabbing her arse, which is what he did when he wanted sex.

I felt the anger rising, building, gaining momentum. Everything went silent around me as I tried to understand. I knew instantly, despite my failure to react or move, that this was a Defining Moment. I was being pushed by people trying to get past me, but my feet remained rooted to the ground. My breathing quickened and was so loud I thought everyone must have been able to hear it. For the first time in my life, I felt like I could cause real pain to another human. I wanted to hurt one of them, both of them. At once. With a large automobile, possibly. My fists clenched and unclenched.

As if sensing my wrath, Dan looked in my direction. He didn’t drop his hands; he didn’t let go of Fiona. He just blinked as if trying to figure out if I were an apparition. Can you spell b-u-s-t-e-d, Dan?

Fiona was trying to get an answer from him about something and play-slapped him to get his attention. Then she
followed his gaze. She immediately pulled away from Dan, who staggered backwards and grabbed the table to steady himself. Her eyes were wide with the realisation of what she’d done. Or, rather, that she’d been caught doing it. She knew who Dan was, she had met him on two separate occasions. Both times he’d been with me; he’d been my lover.

She made a movement to come over to me, but I turned on my heel and pushed through the crowd with a strength and speed I didn’t know I possessed. I was inside. I was on the steps. I was downstairs. I was ducking, weaving; I was racing through the bar, knocking drinks, getting stains on Marley’s beautiful dress, pushing through, past the doors, and outside.

I ran towards the next block, across the street.

I hated them!
God, oh God, I hated them. I wanted to scream with how much anger I felt for them, but I couldn’t here, not here, people would stare and think I was crazy, which I felt I absolutely was.

Dan was a liar and I was a fool, he’d fooled me twice. I mean, I knew he was a rat – he had already confirmed that for me with his Blondie text, but he had travelled halfway across the world and failed to even mention it to me? I was worth that little to him. I hated that he didn’t even want to tell me he was here, so that he could go and find another stupid girl to fall for his playboy trickery, and he didn’t even
care
that I might see it!

And Fiona, why would she
do
something like that? What had I possibly done that had hurt her so much she would pull such a malicious, sinister move? I was lost. I had no explanation. I wondered how long they had been together. Had they screwed? Was this the first night they’d been on? If I hadn’t seen them, would they have gone home and had sex,
and then would she have talked to me tomorrow like nothing had ever happened?

I sat on a park bench. A young woman walking in exercise clothes looked at me, and I thought she might ask if I were okay, so I feigned a smile. She kept walking. I knew the words to this song: always maintain a demeanour of being fine, even if you aren’t. Keep your tears and fears behind closed doors.

I reflected momentarily that I had just experienced a real-life
Sliding Doors
moment. What if I hadn’t gone to the party? What if I’d never seen that and kept thinking of Fiona as a friend? Or if Dan had texted me tomorrow saying he’d just arrived, and I’d forgiven him for Blondiegate and got it back on with him? I managed to mumble a weak ‘thank you’ to the universe. I followed that up with a quiet ‘fuck you’ for the number of men thrown my way who fell for other women when they were supposed to be into me.

As I sat hunched over, I tried to forecast what this situation would mean. Work would certainly be awkward, but I could cope with that. Screw Fiona. I didn’t care. I would live my life as though she didn’t exist. And if people asked, I would tell them she was a man-thief. Or ex-man-thief. Or potential-man-thief. Whatever – they’d get it.

My phone was going mad. It had rung around ten times since I’d left the party. I turned it off and hailed a cab. I was going straight to Iz’s.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

‘Who is it?’

‘Iz, it’s me.’

I heard the door unlocking and it opened to reveal Iz in her undies and a T-shirt. She took one look at me and grabbed my arms.

‘Han, Han, what’s happened, what’s wrong? Shit, come in, come in…’

I moved inside the door but wouldn’t let go of her. I think part of me was crying because if this had happened the same time next week, I wouldn’t have had an Iz to collapse onto. That realisation made me sob even harder.

After we’d hugged for a few minutes, and I’d calmed down
enough to be able to speak, I took a deep breath and wiped my eyes.

‘I went to a party and I saw, hic, Fiona and Dan kissing, and all over, hic, each other…’

I started crying again.

Iz’s eyes were wide open, complementing her dropped jaw.

‘Shut UP!’ She was incredulous. ‘Fi? Was with Dan? When did Dan get into town? You didn’t tell me he was here!’

I wiped my nose with the side of my hand. ‘That’s just it; I didn’t even know he was here!’

‘Is everything okay?’ Dec’s voice came from the hallway. He was walking towards us, peering to see who he was looking at. He was only wearing boxers. He looked like something from the Man Perve pages of
Gloss
.

‘Han, what’s happened? Are you okay?’

As we all know, the most dangerous sentence a human can hear in the moments after crying involves the words ‘is’, ‘everything’ and ‘okay’. It’s like you’ve been carefully nursing a precariously placed bucket of emotion and they’ve just waltzed up and kicked it over.

I looked at him as I gulped back tears; his face was full of alarm and he walked quickly towards us. I wanted to have him tell me everything was going to be okay. He would never be capable of these acts of brutality; he’d be a perfect, caring boyfriend. That Elle didn’t know how lucky she was. Cow.

‘Dec, it’s okay. Maybe leave this one to me?’ Iz spoke firmly but softly, and nodded towards the hall.

He didn’t move. ‘Han, would you prefer that? Can I at least… Is there anything I can do?’

I shook my head and smiled weakly. ‘Just boy stuff, Dec. But thank you. And for trying to help on Saturday night, too…’

I felt like such a loser. First Jesse had given him a serve when he had tried to look after me, and now Dan had completely screwed me over, and he was still here being all lovely.

‘Okay…well, if you need me…’ He made some intense eye-conversation with Iz, and then slowly walked back to his room.

Iz looked at me and shook her head. ‘That fucking Dan. I will cut his fucking balls off if I see him before I go… Argh! And as for that slut Fiona – who
are
these people, Han? They’re seriously chemically disbalanced, that’s for sure.’

I didn’t bother to correct ‘disbalanced’. I just sat there, stonefaced.

‘Come sit down, darling, I’ll make you a cup of tea. Do you want to stay here tonight?’

I nodded. ‘Do you mind?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ She busied herself making the tea.

I looked around her stark lounge room and tears sprang to my eyes again. ‘Iz, I can’t believe you’re going.’

‘Oh my Hanschki…’ She came over and hugged me. ‘I know. I can’t believe you’re not coming with me. And, and I’m scared, to tell you the truth. Like, really scared. What if I hate it? What if Kyle and I don’t get on? What if he meets some gorgeous model on the show? What if he pulls a Jesse?’

‘Oh, Iz. No. Kyle worships the ground you walk on. He’s not going near any of those stick figures. He only wants you. And anyway, you’re going for you, not him, remember?’

She pulled back suddenly, her eyes wide. ‘Is this whole thing tonight not a sign you should come?’ Her eyes searched mine for a flicker of agreement, but I could offer none.

‘Oh, Iz… I’d love to, but right now…it’s not for me
right now.’ I looked down as I finished my sentence. Truth was, I had thought about it a lot, but it just didn’t sit right. I couldn’t leave
Gloss
and my life here, even if it did suck. I had to stick out the beauty gig a bit longer. Otherwise, what was the point of all my hard work? I’d rack off and come back and no one would even know my name. They’d be all, ‘Oh hey, Holly, how was London?’

‘I’m always just a call away, you know that, don’t you? And Dec’s always here for a chat. He’ll be there for you in a flash. Quicker.’

I smiled with my mouth closed. ‘He’s such a sweetheart.’

Iz walked back to the kitchen and returned with a mug of tea.

‘See, the thing about Dec…’ She stopped and stared at me as if she was about to say something else, but after a few seconds seemed to change her mind. ‘Nevermind. Hey, aren’t your mum and dad back this weekend?’

‘Yep,
finally
. I’m going to drive up there to see them when you’ve gone… Mum’ll look after me in my melancholic, best-friendless state.’

‘Good. I’m glad to hear you’ll be in your mum and dad’s care. I couldn’t bear the idea of you being all alone this weekend… Now, my love, I’ve got to get up at five-thirty, so you have a shower and I’ll see you in bed. You sure you’re okay?’

‘Yep, I’ll go shower.’

Iz gave me a kiss on the forehead and I watched her walk out of the room. I hoped Kyle knew how lucky he was.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

I awoke confused. I knew where I was, but Iz had already left, leaving me in a bare bedroom and in yesterday’s clothes. I should be used to the walk of shame by now, I thought.

I frowned and tried to put my finger on why I felt so heavy… Something bad had happened… Oh, yes. The dry-humping on the balcony. Today would be filled with salty plops and eye drops.

When I got home and turned my phone on, six texts and fourteen missed calls came through. Most of the calls were from Fi, and a few from a number I didn’t recognise. Probably Dan. I looked at the first message. From Fi at 10.46 p.m.:

The third, from Fi at 11.15 p.m.:

And the eighth, from Dan, sent this morning at 4.32 a.m.:

That was all I needed to read. Their pitiful text messages cemented my anger at how weak they both were. They deserved each other.

Work was a two-way street, for not only could I not handle it but, seemingly, work couldn’t handle me either. For all the stories they’d written or designed or sub-edited on ‘How to Cope When She’s Hurting’, each Glossette’s initial reaction to my melancholy was to suddenly remember page 45 in the unspoken workplace rulebook:
Don’t bring your personal life to the workplace
. Everyone ignored me.

Jay was not in, thankfully. Well, kind of thankfully: some part of me wanted someone else to disseminate the message about Fiona’s treachery, and I knew Jay would have been good for it.

In a job where you’re supposed to be constantly happy, social and pretty, an It’s All Gone to Shit Day isn’t very productive. I cancelled two launches and spent most of the morning in my beauty cupboard.

An email notification chimed. God, it was from Eliza. Not now, not now…

I was stunned. That had to be as good as it got from Eliza.

Ding.

Cc-ing Karen?

Really? Bitch!

Ding.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. There was no need to stress out. I could handle this; it would be fine. I didn’t write back; I would simply present them with the idea. Once I’d thought of one.

What had I learnt in this job that would help me in times like this? I thought about my time at
Gloss
, and wondered exactly what I had been up to for the last year. I’d enjoyed myself, that’s for sure: every day was fun, and I never knew what would land on my desk, or where I’d be off to, or what feature I’d be working on for the next issue. It was a wonderful job, and one that I’d covet insanely if it weren’t mine. As for what I had learnt… I’d learnt that each cosmetic company liked to think they were the only cosmetic brand. They wanted to believe we ‘got’ them, just as we wanted to believe the reader would ‘get’ us.

I wondered what I’d like to see in the mag, as a make-up-obsessed woman. Really extraordinary make-up was definitely always good to see, but with a how-to component by someone that was actually good at explaining it, which wasn’t necessarily me or any of the other beauty editors. It was a unique skill, one best left to make-up artists who spoke on Madonna mics at department stores.

I started rifling through my references for good make-up features from other magazines. They were all utterly uninspiring – ‘Sexy in Seconds’, ‘Put Your Best Face Forward’… Was this really what my job was? How depressing. There were people out there saving lives, and I was writing about liquid eyeliner. I guess I did help women feel better about themselves by encouraging them to look their best, but still, it was hardly rescuing orang-utans in Borneo.

I sat down and just stopped and thought about the brand.
Emporium were pretty cool customers; they didn’t use celebrities to advertise their wares, and wouldn’t be interested in the usual red-carpet sponsorship we rolled out to clients. We needed to do something innovative, something that
21
would never devise. It would have to be something that reflected what they did with their own brand, so that they couldn’t deny the synergy. God, listen to me, I was starting to sound like Marley. How revolting.

We could do the party make-up story…no, that was so done. We could do a fashion and beauty merger, showing models wearing new-season trends, and then get one of their make-up artists to tell us how to get the look to suit each trend…or, or…shit.

Then it came. The Idea.
A make-up-artist off!

We could get four make-up artists to do a shoot using Emporium make-up – ooh, I could get that alien-esque model Kelsie, an unnaturally beautiful Russian model who was in town, and Jeff Arber would shoot it, he was here too – and we’d give each make-up artist free rein on a bare-faced Kelsie, and then readers would go online to vote for their favourite look for the chance to win a stupid amount of make-up and a session with the winning make-up artist, as well as a trip somewhere, maybe, a shoot in
Gloss
and, oh, I don’t know, a gold-plated helicopter or something.

Where that had come from was a mystery, but the tingle down my spine told me it was a cracker, and I needed to write it down immediately. I wanted to give it to Karen and Marley, and then I wanted to go home ‘sick’.

‘And at the end of it all, Emporium finishes up with an even stronger marketplace position, because the country’s best
make-up artists have used their product, and then the readers voted on their favourite products, which, you know, fuses both the clout of the consumers and the power of the
Gloss
name and gives them that industry edge, too…’

I looked at Karen and Marley for a reaction.

‘And you say you’re not feeling well today, Hannah?’ Karen said, her eyebrows raised. Shit, could she tell I wasn’t really sick? How do bosses and mothers always know that?

‘Um, yes, I’m feeling a little off.’

‘Well, if that’s what you’re capable of when you’re unwell, you must be amazing when you’re in form.’ She broke into a huge smile.

‘Hannah, why the hell are you in editorial? Karen, she’s wasted down here, we need her upstairs – she could bring us in millions! They are going to wet their pants when they see this. God, I’ve got to get Belinda onto making a mock-up – we’ve got to meet them in three hours, and you know how slow she is; a blind chimpanzee using MS-DOS would be faster, for God’s sake.’

‘Thanks, guys. I’m glad you like it.’

‘We don’t like it, we love it. We’re amazed by it. we’re thrilled with it. You’ve done an incredible job, Hannah. And we put you under the pump, which makes it even more impressive. Thank you.’

‘Why don’t you come present it with us, Han? Come on, it’s your pitch, you know it better than any—’

‘Marley, she’s not feeling well, plus, she’s done more than enough. Hannah, why don’t you go home?’

‘You’re too soft on your girls, Karen,’ Marley said as she walked out, winking at me on the way.

‘Are you sure?’ Not that what Karen said next would
influence me leaving anyway – I’d just potentially earned them two-hundred thousand dollars; I was out of there.

‘Okay. Less a question; more a statement. Go home. Watch some bad movies and drink some tea. We’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘Really?’

‘Go. You did good today. In fact, you’ve done good ever since you arrived. It’s a pleasure and a privilege to have you on
Gloss
. Take tomorrow off too, actually. So we’ll see you Monday.’

‘Thank you, Karen.’ God, I loved her. As I walked back to my desk, I felt relieved but utterly deflated. I was thrilled to get Friday off legitimately as it saved me having to chuck a sickie to say goodbye to Iz at the airport in the morning. Plus, it meant I could go straight up to Mum and Dad’s from the airport.

Just as I was about to walk out, Jay screamed into the office and came straight over to my desk. She had her hands on her heart, her eyes were wide open and she was panting from walking so quickly.

‘Honey! Shit! Is it true about Fiona?!’

News travelled fast around here.