I Heart Paris (15 page)

‘Doesn’t sound like you get much out of it to be honest.’ I really couldn’t watch. It was like one of those nature programmes where some awful predator plays with its dinner before it pounces. I couldn’t believe that Craig actually thought that he was the one in charge here. ‘You don’t want to be here and are you seriously telling me you want Craig tagging around after you all day? He doesn’t strike me as the museum type.’

‘No fair, you saw through my evil plan.’ Graham raised a eyebrow and leaned in to whisper theatrically. ‘He’ll hate it. It’s his punishment for snoring all the freaking way here on the plane.’

I laughed and then took a deep breath. There was every chance I didn’t want to know the answer to my next question. ‘So how come you don’t like Solène?’

Graham stopped smiling. ‘Look, Angie, I promised Alex I wouldn’t talk about this stuff, but it kinda looks like he didn’t really tell you about it either and to be honest, I think your being here is kinda messed up, so…’

‘So what?’

‘So, yeah, you know that Alex and Solène dated, right?’

I nodded. ‘Following so far.’

‘I’m thinking maybe he underplayed the way things went between the two of them.’ He turned and pressed the button for the lift, clearly it wasn’t coming fast enough for him. ‘I guess he’s kind of freaked out to see her here. Honest, we did not know that her band was booked to play the festival. I don’t think any of us would be here if Alex had known.’

‘So it didn’t end well? With the two of them?’ I asked. Was there even a good answer to that question? Unless it ended when Alex had woken up one morning having had a dream about a transcendentally beautiful English girl who didn’t know when to stop asking questions.

‘I just don’t really think it’s my place to fill you in on this stuff.’ Graham placed a big, bass-playing hand on my shoulder. ‘But don’t sweat it Ange, everything is awesome with you and Alex. This is just an unexpected, uh, I don’t know, hiccup? One never to be seen again once we’re back in New York.’

I nodded, he was right. If we hadn’t come to Paris, none of this would be happening and once we got back to New York and Alex and I moved in together, it would be as if it never had. Because I was well known for being able to let things go. Crap. Why had I come here? Why, oh why, oh why had I listened to the voice in my head instead of someone sensible? This was what happened when Jenny Lopez wasn’t around to counsel me. Clearly it was her fault.

At last, the lift pinged gently to announce its arrival and I was so relieved to be leaving, that I actually smiled for the first time since I’d stepped out of my taxi. And I absolutely didn’t see her coming.

‘Graham!’ Solène sidled into our path with two cups of beer and planted her customary kisses on his cheeks. ‘And Angela, you are here. I love your dress.’

The smile slid halfway off my face, not sure whether the compliment was genuine or not.

‘And such beautiful shoes.’ She handed us the cups. ‘I am underdressed.’

Solène was barefoot. And wearing black jeans and a long black T-shirt. Exactly what I’d been wearing all day long and not in any way a six-hundred-Euro silk dress with a cat on it and borrowed five-inch heels. I felt like a complete tit.

‘Your flat is beautiful,’ I said, stepping slowly backwards as Solène directed us back into the living room and away from the lift. ‘Really, it’s gorgeous.’

‘Oh, thank you.’ She gestured to the arm of one of the giant sofas and practically pushed me backwards until I was sitting down. Would I ever be able to balance properly in big girl heels? ‘Graham, please could you get me a drink? Red wine?’

Graham looked from me to Solène and then back to me again.

‘Actually, I was just gonna take Angela out to grab a cab,’ Graham pulled me back up again. ‘Alex has this whole romantic dinner thing planned for her and she needs to leave right away.’

‘Does he?’ Solène asked, pushing me back down again.

‘He does?’ I asked.

‘Uh, yeah, it’s supposed to be a surprise,’ Graham said, taking the beer out of my hand and balancing it on a coffee table behind him.

‘Then I will call a taxi for Angela,’ Solène said, squeezing my hand and giving me a big smile. ‘There are not many outside. This is Paris, not New York.’

Graham pushed his square, black glasses up his nose and pushed me up the arm of the sofa, settling down beside me. ‘That would be great. As soon as you can, please.’

‘The phone is upstairs with the red wine,’ Solène replied, flashing another smile. ‘You can bring it to me.’

Reluctantly letting go of my hand, Graham practically made a run for the stairs. Solène watched him go, laughing quietly.

‘Graham, he is so funny,’ she said, dropping lightly on to the sofa beside me. ‘I miss him.’

‘You spent a lot of time with Graham on tour?’ I asked, trying not to feel like a ginormous, overdressed idiot.

‘On tour yes, and of course when we all lived together,’ she said casually. ‘He seems different now. Maybe not so happy.’

‘When you lived together?’ I had already put two and two together and I didn’t like what I was coming up with. ‘You lived with Graham?’

‘For a while,’ she said, twirling a long strand of icy blonde hair around her finger. ‘He left his boyfriend and moved in with Alex and I. It was for maybe two or three months.’

Right. Of course. He moved in with her and Alex for two or three months.

When she was living with Alex.

When she was living with my boyfriend.

‘I miss so much about Brooklyn, tell me, how long have you been living there?’ she asked.

‘I, uh, I live in Manhattan,’ I managed to say, leaning forward to grab my beer.

‘Alex moved to Manhattan? He sold his apartment? With the beautiful views?’ Solène asked, plaiting the strand of hair she’d so carefully separated from her elegantly styled bird’s nest. ‘I cannot believe he would leave.’

‘No, he’s still in Brooklyn, in Williamsburg.’ I was having to think so carefully about my words. Talking really shouldn’t be such a struggle. Breathing really shouldn’t be such a struggle. ‘We don’t live together.’

‘Oh, so it is not serious?’ she asked a little bit too quickly for my liking. ‘With you and Alex?’

‘It’s serious,’ I replied, equally speedy. ‘It’s totally serious. I’m moving in when we get back to New York actually.’

‘That is good.’ Solène watched as I chugged my beer. ‘For a long time he was so hurt. Of course, I know that was all my fault. I am so happy he has found you.’

‘He was hurt,’ I repeated, not sure if it was a question or not. Where the hell was Graham?

‘I know, you must think I am a horrible person, Angela.’ She let go of her hair and took the (now empty) cup out of my hand, before holding on to both of my hands. I couldn’t help but notice that even though her hands were soft and tiny, she had calluses in all the same places as Alex. ‘I just was not ready to settle down. Alex, he was just so desperate to get married, to have babies. I was so young, so far from home. I was very confused. But I realize it was a mistake. I had never wanted to break his heart.’

And I had never wanted to break anyone’s face.

Solène hadn’t had ‘a thing’ with Alex, they hadn’t dated.

She was the one.

The ex who had cheated on him with his best friend.

‘Angela, please, if Alex is not coming tonight, I understand, but I hope you will tell him that I am still very sorry.’ Two big fat tears rolled down her cheeks, streaking her porcelain skin with smoky black lines. ‘He still will not speak to me and it is years ago. We were happy before, I am too sad that we cannot ever be friends again.’

I gave up on Graham and pulled my hands away, standing up. ‘I’m sorry Solène, I don’t think I should really be talking about this.’

She nodded tearfully and dropped her head to her knees.

Not cracking her head open with my shoe was the most civilized thing I had ever done. Which wasn’t to say that I wasn’t desperately fighting a very strong urge to pull off a Louboutin and play to my strengths, but I was determined to be the bigger person here. For once. That was the plan in the first place, wasn’t it?

I left her on the sofa and strode back to the lift as fast as my heels would carry me. My eyes burning only slightly less than the balls of my feet, I jabbed the, button over and over until it pinged and the doors slid open.

‘Angela,’ Graham yelled over the crowds that had now filled the apartment. ‘I’m sorry, I got stuck with Craig and then I couldn’t find the phone or the wine and, Jesus, are you OK?’

I nodded, holding the lift door. ‘Probably would be better if I hadn’t just found out Solène and Alex and, well, everything. From her.’

‘Probably.’ Graham winced. ‘Angie, I’m real sorry. But it’s history. Ancient, you know? It just doesn’t matter.’

‘Hmm.’ I stepped into the lift. ‘Yeah.’

My eloquence astounded me at times.

‘I called a cab, it should be downstairs by now,’ he said, holding the door open. ‘Can I come with you?’

‘Um, I think I need five minutes actually,’ I said. It was the most diplomatic version of ‘piss off, I want to be on my own’ I could come up with.

Obviously there was no taxi outside when I got down there and none to be seen anywhere in the street. I wandered around to the front of the building and leaned over the wall, staring out at the river. Notre-Dame was all lit up on the opposite side of the bank. The huge towers were so beautiful, but totally intimidating and just a little bit scary. I wondered if Solène ever clambered around the roof under cover of darkness and jumped about. Or maybe she just clung to the edge like one of the gargoyles. Except, you know, a really beautiful gargoyle who had seen fit to break my boyfriend’s heart and then expect us all to play BFFs. Bitch.

There was only one person who would appreciate my rage at that exact moment. Rummaging around in my bag, I found my phone, almost out of charge, and pressed the first speed dial button.

‘Jenny Lopez,’ she answered on the first ring. Thank God she never checked caller ID before picking up the phone. Or however you answered an iPhone.

‘Jenny, it’s me,’ I said quickly, surprised to hear a few tears in my voice. ‘Can we talk? Please?’

‘Angie, I’m sorry, I can’t right now,’ she sounded tense, but not angry. ‘I have a ton of problems to sort out so you’re gonna have to wait.’

‘But I’m having a bit of a crisis,’ I started. If I could just get into the bitching soon enough, she’d be powerless to resist.

‘Let me guess,’ she cut me off. ‘Uh, Alex is being an ass or you fucked up the
Belle
job. Which is it?’

Wow. I really did not have an answer for her. It didn’t strike me that she’d be too impressed if I replied with, well, it’s a bit of both really.

‘Can’t do this right now, sorry,’ Jenny went on. ‘I’ll call you later.’

‘But Jenny,’ I tried to stop her, but apparently that was a bad idea.

‘Ah, you didn’t have time to talk to me when you kept diverting my calls yesterday, now I don’t have time to talk to you. Go take care of your crisis, I have stuff to do.’ And then she hung up on me. Actually hung up.

I stared up at Notre-Dame again. No chance of divine intervention? Apparently not. Possibly because I’d never stepped foot in a church in my life unless there was a promise of cake, a three-course meal and a free bar at the end of it.

I fought the urge to break out into a chorus of ‘On My Own’ from
Les Mis
and looked back at my phone. I didn’t really know who else to call. I couldn’t cope with a panicking Louisa and I was seeing her in a couple of days anyway. Erin would tell me I should have put a shoe through Solène’s skull, and I just didn’t feel like I could talk to my other New York friends about this stuff. They didn’t need to know the ins and outs of Alex’s sexual history. Of course, I was forgetting the one person who wouldn’t need a brief. I was pretty sure Alex was familiar with all the details.

I pressed the second speed dial button and waited for it to ring through. And it did, straight to voicemail.

‘Hey, it’s me.’ I started walking towards the bridge and over towards the cathedral. Surely there would be taxis around there? ‘I’m on my way back to the hotel, sorry I’ve been such an idiot today. I blame Paris, it’s so pretty I can’t think straight. Plus, I haven’t had a hot dog since Monday and I think it’s done something strange to my brain. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Or call me and I’ll come and meet you. Or, well, whatever you want to do. I love you.’

Hanging up, I convinced myself he was in the shower, making himself all pretty for me, and continued on my mission to find a taxi. On my own. Pretending he’s beside me.

Sniff.

One hour and several blisters later, I hobbled into the reception of The Marais looking incredibly pitiful. Pale grey silk might look beautiful in a shop window or at a terribly stylish cocktail party (there was no classier accessory than a good caipirinha), but after an hour’s mad wandering around a strange city on a sweaty August evening, it wasn’t the most becoming outfit a lady had ever worn in Paris. But then there was a pretty strong case to suggest I wasn’t that much of a lady. Apart from the fact that I hadn’t smacked Solène in the face, which was very reserved of me. The second I stepped through the sliding glass doors that lead to the reception, I threw myself into the nearest chair, a big plush, red velvet affair this time, and fought with the tiny straps on Virginie’s Louboutins. Damn the fabulous craftsmanship.

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ I wailed, dropping my head on to my knees. I couldn’t go another step with these torture devices strapped to my feet. Beautiful torture devices though they might be.

‘
Madame
?’ a voice asked across the room.

‘
Mademoiselle
,’ I barked back. Really, how many times?

‘
Mademoiselle
, can I help you, please?’

I looked up to see my good friend, Alain, from the concierge desk. Along with a familiar look of concern, he was also wearing a coat and a backpack.

‘I’m not drunk,’ I said too quickly. Not that he would have believed me anyway. ‘I just had to walk back from this party and I didn’t really know where I was going and, well, I had a map, but I’m not very good with maps and I kept getting confused with
gauche
and
droite
and the battery on my phone ran out and I don’t have my charger and—’