The Out of Office Girl (24 page)

Marisa is looking as lovely as ever in a white sleeveless shirt and pink Capri pants which
would make me look like an elephant. As I see her laugh at something Sam says, I feel so jealous of them both. They haven’t made hideous mistakes at work. Then I wonder, not for the first time, if there might be something between them.

Well, she could do a lot worse. This is a good distraction from everything: I’m going to give this Marisa-and-Sam thing some proper consideration. I have to admit
that, compared to all the other men here – Federico, Nikos, even Luther – Sam is in a different category. He may not be drop-dead gorgeous like Luther, but he is definitely attractive, if you like that tanned, athletic, outdoorsy type. He’s intelligent and successful. And he’s not being difficult about Luther’s book for the sake of it. He is trying to do the right thing for him, even when that
means arguing with him. And even though we’ve spent hardly any time together compared to the time I’ve spent with Luther, he knows a lot more about me than Luther does. He even remembered to ask about Brian; Luther basically still hasn’t noticed that Brian’s gone.

Wait a second. Has my crush on Luther been replaced by an attraction for Sam?

No, of course not. That would be crazy. It’s true that,
objectively, I can see he is attractive. He is definitely very attractive. But that’s not the same as being attracted to him. Anyway, he and I have nothing in common, and he lives on the other side of the world. Not to mention that he is probably dating Megan Fox or similar.

Sam looks up, and I realise I’ve been staring.

‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘What were you saying?’

‘We were talking about a famous
actress who we won’t name,’ Sam says.

Marisa tells me in a stage whisper who it is.

‘Oh, I know her.’

‘She was a client of mine,’ Sam says to me. ‘For about five minutes, before she got huge and dropped me. Did I tell you the emergency blowout story?’ he asks Marisa.

He glances around the table to make sure no one else is listening. I’m thrilled: more distraction. I’m so glad everyone has
come to dinner tonight. Imagine if I had to sit alone with Luther! I take another slug of wine.

‘So she’s shooting in New York. And she has her personal hairstylist with her, as per contract. It’s his fortieth birthday, and to celebrate, he goes out for dinner with his boyfriend and some others from the cast and crew. They’re all having a great time in a really nice restaurant in Tribeca, and
she calls him in the middle of it, and makes him abandon dinner right in the middle of the entrée and come back uptown
at once
, because she needs – drum roll – an emergency blowout.’

‘She needed a
what
?’

‘A blowout. She was just acting up. Probably furious to be left out, even though he invited her to dinner.’

I’ve heard some eye-opening things in the past few days, but this is definitely the
worst.

‘But . . .’ I’m shocked. ‘How was that part of his job description? And he was gay!’

‘Well . . .’ Sam’s looking at me strangely. ‘He’s her hairstylist. Lots of them are gay. And it is part of his job, just maybe not during his fortieth birthday party when she has three assistant stylists on call for emergencies like that.’

Aha. I think I see my mistake. I start to laugh.

‘What? What
did you – oh.’ Sam starts laughing too. ‘You don’t use that phrase, for styling your hair?’

‘No. That’s a blow-dry,’ I say, in between fits of laughter. ‘Sorry . . . I’m a bit zonked from all the interviews.’

‘I’ll have to remember that. So what’s a blowout?’ says Sam. ‘I know you get blowout matches, in basketball . . .’

‘Oh, God,’ I say, wiping my eyes. ‘A blowout, for me, is when you eat
a lot. And I just thought it must mean . . . God, I don’t know what I thought. Sorry.’

I think I must be slightly hysterical after the conversation with Olivia, because I can’t stop laughing. I keep calming down, but then I took at Sam and I start to laugh again. And every time Sam sees me, he starts to laugh too. Soon we’re laughing so hard, the rest of the table is staring at us. Even Marisa
is looking mystified.

Annabel glances at us, clocks our mirth, and goes on with her own story.

‘So then in March,’ she says, ‘I’m covered in mud, sort of writhing around, very Xenia Warrior Princess. And in April, I’m kind of covered in flowers, but not quite.’ She wriggles and smirks at Luther, who’s raised his eyebrows appreciatively. ‘It’s very arty.’

‘What’s this?’ I ask, hoping I won’t
start laughing again. Though it sounds as though I probably will.

Annabel turns on me impatiently. ‘The Pirelli calendar!’ she says.

‘Pirelli? Really?’ Marisa asks, eyebrows raised. Federico looks excited.

‘No, no, babe, I told you,’ Nikos butts in hastily. ‘It’s not Pirelli – it’s a company that sells to Pirelli. Distributes through them, I mean. Sort of a spin-off,’ he adds to Sam, in a man-to-man
way. ‘She keeps getting it wrong.’ He has such a strange accent. It’s impossible to figure out where he’s from – and I don’t think Annabel knows either.

‘Right,’ says Sam, sounding deeply sceptical.

‘The idea is,’ Annabel says, ‘that this is going to be the money-spinner, and then out of that, we get to finance the distribution of
Her Master’s Bite
.’

‘Ah,
Her Master’s Bite
,’ I say. Our old
friend.

‘How exactly are you going to finance the distribution of a feature film?’ Sam asks Nikos. ‘And where?’

‘I’ve got some contacts . . . some buddies. It’s a very big area, yeah, and one I’m planning on expanding into,’ says Nikos. Marisa and Sam start asking him questions at once, but Luther interrupts by saying to Annabel, ‘Well, Pirelli girls are hot, and you’re hot, so I think it’s
perfect.’

I smile to think how just a few days ago that would have made me jealous. Now I don’t even care. I look at Sam, and we both almost start to laugh again.

‘How was London?’ I ask him. ‘You must be exhausted.’

‘It was good, I really like London. My meetings were all in Soho, and I took a walk afterward, down to the river. The view along there is cool.’

‘You would have been close to
my office, then.’

‘Oh, yeah, I know. I looked it up,’ he adds, seeing my expression of surprise. ‘Where do you live?’ he continues.

It’s such a novelty to talk to someone about myself that I launch into an in-depth description of Hammersmith and its amenities, and then I tell him about my flatmate Ciara and how she needed someone to move in after her
break-up. Sam is telling me about a friend
of his who had a similar situation, when Nikos butts in, asking about a big Hollywood star who has a house in Sicily.

‘Apparently he’s there with his boyfriend right now,’ Nikos says. ‘Is that true?’

Sam says, ‘No, that’s just a ridiculous rumour.’ Luther says, ‘Yeah, that’s horse shit.’

But I have a feeling they’re both lying. I’m surprised: the person Nikos mentioned is a total heart-throb,
and always seems to have some woman on his arm.

The conversation moves on. ‘Is that true?’ I ask Sam in a low voice. He shrugs, which I understand means yes.

‘But he has a girlfriend.’

‘She’s on a retainer,’ says Sam. ‘And she’s signed a contract, with a confidentiality clause. She’s an actress, so it’s good exposure for her. Everybody wins.’

‘But why does he have to hide it? There must be
lots of other gay actors.’

‘Of course there are. Just like there are lots of cokeheads and meth addicts and idiots and prostitutes and affairs. Sadly it’s seen in the same light, as something to hide. Rumours leak out, the publicists bury it, and it’s business as usual.’

‘But what about—’ I’m trying to think.

‘Are you trying to think of a gay leading man?’ Sam asks. ‘I’ll give you a hundred
dollars if you can.’

‘Rupert Everett!’ I say finally.

‘And what big roles have you seen him in?’

‘
My Best Friend’s Wedding
?’

‘Where he played a . . .’

‘. . . gay best friend. Yes, but surely he’s done other films . . .’

‘Not all the ones he could have, if he’d been straight. And that was a comedy. You think they would have cast
Jake Gyllenhaal and Heath Ledger in
Brokeback
if they’d actually
been gay?’

‘So – who are all the gay actors?’

‘I’d rather not mention names,’ says Sam. ‘But there are plenty. Hollywood is an equal opportunities employer, as long as you stay in the closet.’

He pours himself, and me, another glass of wine. I can see he’s had a lot to drink. Perhaps his trip didn’t go so well. I know the feeling.

‘I won’t quote you on that,’ I say.

‘What are you two saying
about Hollywood employment opportunities?’ asks Annabel.

‘We’re talking about how Hollywood doesn’t like gay leading men,’ says Sam.

‘No way. Goddamn faggots run the creative industries,’ says Nikos.

‘Which is more than we can say for you,’ says Sam. In the candlelight I can see all trace of laughter has disappeared from his face; he looks furious.

‘Hey, easy,’ says Marisa, patting Sam’s arm
across the table.

‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’ snaps Nikos.

‘It means that I don’t know what your real line of business is, but I don’t believe for a second that you know anything about movie distribution – you bigoted jerk.’

‘How dare you? You fucking Yanks are all the same. You’d want to put your own house in order, before telling everyone else what to do—’

‘STOP!’ I yell. Everyone
looks at me, astonished. Annabel in particular looks as if she can’t believe I’ve dared interrupt her boyfriend. ‘I’m sorry, it’s just – Luther and I have been working hard today, and we want to relax. We don’t want arguments. Please.’

‘Sorry – Alice,’ Sam says, not looking at Nikos.

‘Yeah, whatever,’ says Nikos, looking more like a caveman than ever.

‘More pasta, anyone?’ asks Marisa.

‘Who
was
that asshole?’ Sam’s grumbling. Dinner is over, and we’re sitting around on the terrace with Luther. Everyone else has gone home.

‘Let’s not have the Joneses over for cocktails again,’ says Luther.

‘For sure. Jesus, where did Annabel find him? And by the way, where did you find Annabel?’

‘I don’t know. She was on set, and then she came here.’

‘Did you ever have a thing with her, Luther?’
I ask. It’s cheeky of me, but I’ve always been curious about this.

‘No. Well, yes. But it was on location. Which doesn’t count.’

‘And not since then?’ says Sam. I’m glad I’m not the only one being nosy.

‘No, I kind of got tired of it. She has the crazy eye. And she kept busting my chops with her vampire movie.’

‘What’s the crazy eye?’ I think I know exactly what he means, but I’d like the
official definition.

‘It’s the look that some actresses have, that means they have to be a success no matter what, and they’ll walk over your hands to get there. It can be a little scary. Actors have it too but not as much.’

Poor Annabel. I can think of a few people at work who have the crazy eye, and I’ve probably had it myself at times. It’s not super gallant of Luther to bitch about his ex-conquests,
and I feel suddenly guilty about joining in.

‘She’s so beautiful,’ I say. ‘When I first saw her, I thought she was Sienna Miller.’

‘Actually Sienna Miller is very sweet,’ Sam says. ‘So there’s no danger of mistaking her for Annabel, if you ever meet her. I guess she and Nikos are suited.’

‘By the way, why did you go all Sam Seaborn on parts for gay actors?’ Luther asks. ‘You could say the exact
same thing about parts for black actors or whatever. Your kid brother is gay, right?’

‘Yeah. But that’s irrelevant. I just find the whole thing kind of depressing sometimes, is all.’

Luther turns to me. ‘Did you know that Sam here paid his brother’s college fees?’

‘Wow.’

‘That’s not true,’ says Sam. ‘I helped him out in his first year, but he also won a scholarship.’ He looks proud. ‘He’s
a very bright guy. How’d you know about that, anyway?’ he asks Luther.

‘He told me that time we went to the Griddle Café,’ Luther says. ‘He’s hot stuff. If I was gay, I’d be on to him like a shot.’

‘You stay away from my brother,’ says Sam. ‘And my sister. She’s still in college.’ He pulls out his phone and shows me a picture of the three of them. It looks as though it’s taken at Christmas –
there’s a tree and decorations in the background. They look like a nice family. They all have the same grey, slightly slanting eyes.

‘Do you have any siblings?’ Sam asks me.

‘I have an older sister, Erica,’ I say. ‘She’s married and lives in London.’ I’m not sure what else to tell them. I certainly didn’t pay Erica’s college fees, and she’s not gay.

‘So we’re both spoiled youngest kids,’ says
Luther. ‘And Sam is a responsible eldest.’

‘Yes, I am, and don’t you forget it.’

‘No,’ Luther says. ‘Don’t start on me about the book again. Or the TV. I want to do my book. And I don’t want to do the TV.’

‘OK, OK, I heard you,’ Sam says, pouring him another drink. He glances up and says, ‘Alice? You want another?’

I’m about to say yes, but then Luther says, ‘Come on! You’re on vacation.’

And I remember with a creeping feeling of shame that I’m not here on vacation at all. I’m working, and I’m in big trouble with work. What would Olivia say if she could see me getting sloshed with Luther and Sam, just a few hours after our awful conversation? I look at my watch: a quarter to midnight. I need to go to bed, get up at a reasonable hour, and try and make some sort of amends for everything
tomorrow.

‘No thanks. I’d better go to bed,’ I say, standing up. Luther waves and knocks back another drink. Sam says, ‘OK. Goodnight.’ As I walk across the terrace, I can feel him watching me go.

TWENTY-FOUR

I can’t sleep.

I’m tired enough, and it’s the first time in a while that I’ve been in bed before 2 a.m., but I can’t stop thinking about Olivia and my disaster with the clause. And it’s so hot. I drank too much at dinner, and had a coffee afterwards. Now I’m wide awake, staring at the ceiling. Looking at my phone, I see it’s twenty past one.