I handed her a second glass of champagne. Simone functioned much better when she was only semi-sober. "They'll love it. The tasting menu is magnificent. Get pissed and enjoy the evening."
I left her to attend to some last-minute details in the kitchen and allowed myself to unfocus, knowing that soon I'd be seeing Jackson for the first time in what felt like forever. It had been just over four days since I'd left his house on Monday morning and we'd spoken every night and most mornings which hadn't given me time to miss him – how can you miss something you haven't had and I hadn't had him during a working week. I wasn't used to him being there while I was brushing my teeth, or cursing having such long, thick hair that took a gazillion years to dry. I hadn't missed him; I'd enjoyed speaking with him instead, finding out who he was and what made him tick and now I was looking forward to having him next to me, inside me and afterward, curled around me.
The doors opened and a line of people entered, immediately passing coats and accepting glasses of fizz. I lingered in the shadows, watching and sipping my drink, making it last. The restaurant filled quickly, most faces recognizable; high fashion models, a famous ex-sportsman and his wife, a few people with titles, both earned and inherited, a couple of other chefs who were supporters of Simone, one of whom presented a TV cookery show. I spoke with a few, handed out several business cards and ate some canapes which were superb. I was taking my seat at a table – as one of the perks of the job I was getting dinner – when a face I was more intimately familiar with appeared next to me.
"I wonder if you can help me?"
"You can always ask. If I can't help, I'll endeavor to find someone who can," I said, grinning wide enough that if anyone saw me, they'd have me on a psychiatric ward in no time.
He shook his head. "No, I think it's you I'm looking for. I wanted to speak to the marketing director and you might be able to help me out, if you know her. You see, I've commissioned her to do some work for me and I wanted to check out her work, see if it was up to standard."
I suddenly realized exactly why Claire had dragged me shopping for a new dress on Thursday night and encouraged me to get Sophie to do my make-up. "What's the verdict so far?"
"It seems pretty reasonable. Low key, classy, with the right guests, I suppose. Can't think what she'd have made of my family of half-wits at the weekend," he said, standing up. I drank until my eyes were full: he was wearing a tailored tux with a blue shirt, no tie. The shirt was unbuttoned at the top, a slip of a tattoo visible and I was sure I had just melted into a pool of goo at the table. "Can I get you a drink?"
"Champagne, please," I said, the resolve of all nature now gone.
"Of course," he said, and I watched his ass as he shifted through the crowd, saying hello to several people and having a quick conversation with one.
"He's hot," Alice said, making me jump as she approached. "Isn't that Jackson Callaghan?"
"Yes," I said. "How did he get on the guest list?"
She scrunched her eyes up. "Wednesday. I put his name on the list on Wednesday. Someone from Simone's office called and added it. Please don't ask me to work with him. He's too good looking for me to concentrate." I laughed as she sauntered away, Jackson returning with my drink and one for himself.
"You think you're going to stick with the marketing lady?" I asked as he sat back down. "She's easy to work with, you know. Discrete, a good listener, hardworking."
He gave me that killer grin. "I'm considering it. In fact, I was considering asking her to spend some time with me after this event she's working on. Nothing to do with work; I just want to get to know her some more. What do you think she'd say?"
"I'm not sure. I think it'd depend on what you planned for tomorrow."
"A lazy morning. Maybe watch some cookery show and read the papers in bed. Then we could get breakfast somewhere before we got on my bike and headed away from the city for the afternoon," he said, brushing my hand briefly.
"And I thought you'd be planning to spend the day in bed." I sipped my champagne.
"That's Sunday."
"I think she'd say yes."
"Was it Sunday that sold it?"
"She'll tell you at the end of the weekend."
The rest of the dinner went smoothly, the tasting menu that Simone had prepared seemed to be enjoyed, even by the couple of critics who were sat near to Jackson and me, and, as anticipated, nothing went wrong. Towards the end of the evening, people started to mill around the bar area, sipping at complimentary cocktails or coffees before heading off to wherever their next stop was for the night. It had been a success and Simone was equally relieved and euphoric.
"Thank you for everything," she said, coming over to me, currently shoeless, the kitten heels having proven too much. "It's gone brilliantly."
"You're welcome," I said. "But that's not just down to me: the food, the décor, the service, have all been perfect. Maybe you should do this more often." I smiled at her, knowing full well what her reaction would be.
"Never! Once was enough. This has been painful. If I had children, I have no doubt I'd equate it to giving birth. However, you should both come for dinner next week on the house. I can squeeze you in on Thursday – my treat." She beamed. "It might be a table in the cleaning cupboard as we really are booked up, but I'll get you in."
I nodded graciously. "Thank you, I'd love to, although it's really been Alice who's done the work for tonight."
"But you've masterminded it all. It's my chefs who have done the cooking tonight, and the waiting on staff who have tolerated some absolute imbeciles, but ultimately, it's my success as I coordinated it all. You have to learn to be a little arrogant sometimes, Vanessa," Simone said, looking knowingly at Jackson. "She doesn't give herself enough credit."
My stomach sank and I felt bile rise up as I saw a man approach behind Simone. He was tall and lean and familiar in a way I wished he wasn't. Tonight wasn't when I wanted Richard to piss all over my life again. I hadn't seen him for over five months. Never again would've been too soon.
"I beg to differ," Richard said. "I think Vanessa is extremely good at taking credit."
