‘It’s Jackson.’ I slide my sunglasses down over my nose for a second to look at Evelyn. ‘Some server from Marmont has gone public with her story that he and Leila Sherazi—the actress he’s starring with inVet—have been sharing a room at the Chateau.’
‘Oh, Jesus.’ Evelyn is no stranger to the havoc the tabloids can wreak. ‘Are you guys going to quash it?’
‘Apparently not. Because it’s good for publicity.’
Evelyn gasps. ‘You are shitting me. That’s not cool.’
I follow Evelyn into the kitchen and hold Rose while Evelyn prepares a bottle of formula. She’s divine: sweet-smelling and gummy and gorgeous. She reaches out for her mama and rewards Evelyn with an enormous grin when she takes her back.
We collapse in the wonderfully coolsalonoff the main hall. Evelyn settles Rose in the crook of her arm and pulls off her sunhat before popping the bottle’s teat in her mouth. She tilts her tiny head back and sucks hungrily, taking noisy, drunken gulps as her little hands try to grab the bottle and her eyes roll back in her head.
‘She’ll be out like a light after this.’ Evelyn fondles one of Rose’s perfect little feet.
‘She’s so beautiful, Ev. Angus strikes me as the happiest man in the world, surrounded by his gorgeous women.’ Seeing my friend this loved-up and contented makes me smile, despite the shit currently hitting the fan in my own life.
‘He’s amazing. I’m so lucky. And he’s equally wonderful with Eddie and Rose. And his own boys, of course. We’re one big, messy, happy family, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.’ Evelyn runs her lips over Rose’s downy head. I remember that feeling. The scent of talc and baby shampoo. The impossible softness. Nothing would persuade me to go through the experience of having a baby again, but there were definitely moments to treasure.
‘You’re lucky. You had a shitty time of it with Seb, but it’s worked out for all of you. I’m so happy.’
‘Thank you, dear friend.’ Evelyn murmurs the words into the top of Rose’s head. ‘But what about you? What are you going to do—what do you even want?’
‘I don’t know.’ I pick at a microscopic chip in my nail polish. ‘I’m so used to this weird, fucked-up existence beingour lives that I don’t really spend much time wondering what the alternative could be, if that doesn’t sound crazy.’
‘It doesn’t. You get sucked in, don’t you? By the money, and the profile, and the adrenalin rush… you’ve told yourself you want this for so long that you can’t actually remember if it’s fact, or just a story you’ve made up for yourself. And you’re in so deep, you can’t see a way out.’
‘Too true.’ It is true. Morally questionable, but true.
We’re silent for a minute.
‘Can I ask you a question?’ Evelyn looks at me from under her lashes.
‘Anything.’
‘Have you ever cheated? Or considered it, even?’
Only this week. And last week.
‘No.’ It feels like a simpler answer. ‘I don’t have the time for an affair. Or the energy.’
‘All I would say’—Evelyn seems to be choosing her words carefully—‘is that no one would blame you. If you don’t want out of your marriage, maybe it’s time to level the playing field.’
NOAH
I pad through my bedroom,a towel around my waist, the water droplets from my shower cooling my skin. Beyond the open window, the early evening light is golden. I peer outside. The vines are gilded, their shadows growing long. It’s one of those tranquil French evenings whose perfection defies belief.
I flick the TV on as I saunter to my wardrobe for a clean shirt, and scroll to Sky News.
Speculation is escalating over the nature of therelationship between Jackson James and his latest co-star, Leila Sherazi,the reporter intones.
I grab a shirt and back up. There’s a photo of Jackson and Leila smiling together at a recent event, before the screen switches to a photo of what looks like a hotel, and a scrolling banner:BREAKING NEWS. SERVER CONFIRMS JAMES AND SHERAZI SHARED A BED AT CHATEAU MARMONT.
What the fuck?
The voiceover continues.Jackson and Leila have been spotted cosying up at several events now, prompting questions over whether they’re as close as their characters on upcoming HBO series,Vet.Today’s statement, by a server at the world-famous Chateau Marmont, comes as little surprise to insiders who have been reporting for some time that the stars’ on-screen chemistry is just as strong off-screen. This is bound to be a blow for Jackson’s wife, Honor Chapman, who cannot be reached for comment.
‘Because she is France, hiding from scumbags like you, you fuckwit,’ I sneer aloud as the screen shows footage of Honor walking swiftly down a London street, head bowed, sunglasses firmly on. I recognise that dress; this must have been shot that day I met her.
I turn off the TV and throw the remote angrily on the bed. The woman on that screen is a living, sentient creature and she happens to be the most exquisite human being I’ve ever seen. Why Jackson James sees fit to humiliate her in front of the global press, I’m unclear. And I’m even more unclear on why the fuck she lets him.
