A Funny Thing About Love (2 page)

Carmen knew she ought to take the stairs as a token gesture to burn off some of the thousands of calories she must have consumed the night before. She had a vague, guilty recollection that she and Sadie had eaten
two
bumper bags of Doritos when they'd got the two a.m. munchies; Alas, she had the will power of a gnat, and so she found herself pressing the button to the lift. She would probably end up with the thighs of an elephant, but hey, at least she would have a good memory.

As the lift door pinged open on the fourth floor she sneaked a look along the corridor.
Please don't let me be seen by Tiana
. It was nearly midday and she had no explanation for her lateness. And she'd already been ticked off last week for turning up late and missing a management meeting. She should have been sitting at her desk beavering away from the dot of half past nine. To her left was the open-plan office occupied by the
three PAs and Colin the accountant, who were all focused intently on their screens. Connor the postboy was doing his rounds and he caught sight of her and winked. Carmen pretended not to notice, not wishing to encourage him. Recently he'd acquired a tattoo of Johnny Depp's face on his shoulder in homage to his favourite actor, which he kept threatening to show her. Carmen had no desire to see a half-naked, possibly pimply eighteen-year-old, even with the lure of Johnny. But apart from Connor, the coast was clear.

Carmen turned right towards her office and careered along the corridor at high speed, past the succession of glass-fronted mini offices occupied by other agents. The cubicles offered no privacy whatsoever to the worker inside, unless you pulled down the blinds, and then it looked as if you were up to something you shouldn't be. Which if you were Dirty Sam, you most likely were. She had nearly reached the safety of her office when Sexy Will, Tiana's deputy and chief comedy agent, called out her name. Bugger! She was busted! She backtracked and leaned nonchalantly against his door frame.

Will was mid-thirties with jet-black hair, stunning blue eyes and pale skin. It was a combination that hinted at Irish ancestry, and one that Carmen had always been partial to. He was only a little taller than she was, and at five foot seven herself she usually liked her men way taller, but his gorgeous eyes and sexy smile more than compensated. There was something undeniably compelling about him. He was totally ruthless as an
agent and she shouldn't fancy him, but he had a kind of knowing, sexy sleaziness that almost made her want to go there, plus he was clever and funny. Unfortunately he was just a bit too much into toeing the company line for Carmen's liking.

Will was putting on his Tom Cruise, show-me-the-money act now, his blue shirt cunningly making the blue eyes seem bluer, a hands-free headset clamped to his ear as he wound up a call, telling the person on the other end, likely to be some hapless BBC Radio producer with a tiny budget, that they had to offer way more money before he would even consider mentioning their project to his client. If it had been her, Carmen knew that she would have sounded apologetic, but Will was a much smoother operator.

He pointed to his watch, and raised an eyebrow. ‘Half day, Miller? Very naughty. I might have to discipline you.'

They'd been exchanging flirtatious banter along these lines since Will had joined the company three months before, but it had never gone further. Carmen was still too raw from the break-up of her marriage, and she could never quite make up her mind whether Will was more smarmy than sexy. Plus she had made a vow a long time ago never to have a relationship with anyone she worked with, not after what had happened with Nick. Plus too the fact that she never exactly knew what Will's relationship status was. Carmen reached for a packet of M&S Wobbly Worms from her bag with studied insouciance. Once a week, or twice on a bad week, she treated herself to the wriggly wine gums, but
as she loathed the green ones she always gave them to Will. She held the packet open for him now.

He walked over and extracted five. ‘Do you think the worms are going to distract me from my mission to find out what you've been up to? And if this is meant to be a bribe, couldn't you do better than confectionery? A drink, now that would be more like it.' He returned to his desk, sat back in his chair and put his feet up.

At the mere mention of alcohol Carmen's stomach lurched. She would
never
drink that much again. No, in future it would be a couple of white wine spritzers and then she'd switch to water.
As if
.

‘You really should have more faith in me, Will. I've just been seeing a potential client. We met in North London at his house as he couldn't come into town. He's agoraphobic, but the meeting was very productive actually.' She fervently hoped Will couldn't smell alcohol on her. She had sprayed on liberal quantities of Tom Ford's White Patchouli, which she usually reserved for special occasions, but this morning had been an emergency.

‘Could you actually see him through those shades?'

No wonder everything had seemed so dark! She slid the glasses on to the top of her head, careful not to mess up her fringe. She might have the hangover from hell but at least her black bob looked immaculate.

Will studied her, a sceptical expression on his ruggedly handsome face. ‘What's his name? Maybe it's someone I've seen? Although if he's agoraphobic I'm guessing he's not big on doing live gigs.'

Rats! Why had she said that? ‘Oh, did I say agoraphobic? I meant arachnophobic. Apparently at this time of year there are lots of spiders at large, which is why he prefers to stay at home in his spider-free zone.' She felt pleased with herself for thinking on her feet.

‘His name, Carmen?' Will asked, a slight twitch to his mouth betraying that he did not believe her. ‘And if I've seen him we could compare notes. You know two heads are always better than one.'

Oh God, her head hurt too much to be able to lie convincingly. She decided to drop all pretence. ‘Actually, Will, I'm just late because I'm late.'

‘Night on the tiles with some guy?' Will asked. ‘I wondered why you had that sexy, husky voice, redolent of a hangover and not going to bed until the early hours.'

‘Maybe . . .' Carmen decided to play him, just a little, rather pleased that he thought her hangover voice was sexy. ‘Actually, I'm completely
shagged
.' Big emphasis on
shagged
.

Will rearranged the folders on his desk. Was he bothered? It was hard to tell with the banter they'd built up. ‘I thought you said you weren't seeing anyone, needed space, that kind of bollocks.'

Hmm, maybe he was a teeny tiny bit bothered. ‘Well, let's just say I found a window. Anyway, must dash.' She swung her bag over her shoulder, ready to saunter off.

‘And I can't believe you've forgotten what day it is.' Will was glaring at her now. ‘If I was you I would
have my hands on my hips, a petulant curl to my lip, and be stamping my little red-Converse-shod feet.'

The woolly fog got denser. What on earth was Will going on about? Then her eye fell on the birthday cards fighting for space on his desk. Oops! She'd known there was something she needed to remember this morning. She foraged in her bag again, having a vague recollection that last night, before she'd fallen into the abyss of oblivion, she had managed to put in Will's present and card.

‘Ta da!' she declared, pulling them out. ‘As if I would forget! Celebrating you getting even older has been one of the highlights of my social diary. Remind me how old you are again? Was it thirty-six? In four years' time it will be the big one! Have you planned your midlife crisis yet? I'm thinking a Harley-Davidson motorbike and red leathers for you.'

Ow! That diatribe had caused her head to throb outrageously. God knew how many little grey cells had been consigned to dust last night. She had visions of her cranium being littered with miniature grey crosses to mark their demise. And they would never be replaced, even if she took up Sudoku as her dad was always urging her to do.

Will pursed his lips fractionally. ‘I'm thirty-five, let me remind you. And people in glass houses on the wrong side of thirty – thirty-four if I remember rightly – are in no position for stone throwing.'

Touché. ‘I'm thirty-three!' Carmen hissed back.

‘Whatever. Either way, sweetie, you'll never see
twenty-nine again. You're past your prime, but that's okay. I like old birds.'

Carmen found herself with her hands on her hips, a petulant curl to her lip, all ready to stamp her Converse-shod feet.

‘Anyway, what have you got me?'

Carmen handed over the gift. She had actually spent ages agonising over what to buy Will. She knew he was a huge fan of Sinatra, so in the end she had bought a new biography of the singer, figuring he might not have it yet. First Will ripped open the card. She'd gone for a typically cheeky one of rodents dressed up as members of Abba, with a message alluding to his grand old age. Will rolled his eyes, then turned his attention to the present.

For a few seconds after he had ripped off the paper to reveal the book, he was silent, then he looked up and said seriously, with no trace of flirty Will, ‘This is my best present. I've wanted to get this for ages. Thank you, Carmen.'

‘Well, I was going to get a year's supply of Viagra online but thought you would appreciate this more, even though your lady friends might have appreciated the other.'

‘Miller, if only you knew. I have absolutely no need of any help in that department. I can be at it all night.' At this he stood up and performed the kind of double macho hand gesture of exultation beloved of footballers when they score, at the exact moment that tiny, scary Tiana walked in.

Carmen bit her lip to stop herself from giggling. The irony of Tiana being boss of an agency representing comics was that she herself was renowned for her absolute absence of a sense of humour. Her nickname behind her back was Comedy Bypass.

‘I was just telling Carmen about a stand-up routine I saw the other night,' Will blustered.

‘It sounded hilarious!' Carmen added helpfully. ‘All about a thirty-six-year-old man who can't get it up.' Okay, it wasn't the funniest comeback ever, but it was the best she could muster in the hungover circumstances.

Will scowled at her. But Tiana was busy emailing on her BlackBerry and barely registered them.

‘Anyway, Carmen, you are coming tonight, aren't you? Drinks at the Ship and then dinner at Rico's?' Will had managed to compose himself enough to ask the question.

‘Yep, see you later.'

Carmen tried to avoid being around her boss wherever possible and was all set to retire to the relative peace of her office when Tiana addressed her. ‘Oh, Carmen, can you drop by my office at one? I need to go through your appraisal with you.'

Of all the days to go through this particular form of mental torture, today was without doubt the worst.

‘Sure, Tiana,' Carmen said breezily and slunk off to her office. That had well and truly taken the shine off her flirty banter with Will.

*  *  *

Once in her office she collapsed on her chair and switched on her MacBook. She'd just drink her coffee before she faced the day's barrage of emails. For about the hundredth time she wished she could open her window, but when Fox had taken over they'd insisted on a complete refit of the offices – hence the glass cages and the air con. Carmen had tried to personalise her cell with photos of friends, her collection of snow globes, ranging from the predictable New York skyline right through to a quirky family of meerkats; and hot-pink cherry blossom lights to counteract the harsh overhead lights, which were a friend to no woman. Still, it was pretty hard to make your mark on such a sterile environment.

Carmen was about to tuck into her croissant when the phone rang. It was Trish, Tiana and Matthew's PA, who ran the office, remembered everyone's birthdays, did the expenses – in other words, was completely invaluable.

‘Hiya, Carmen, just to let you know that Karl Fraser has been on the phone. He wants to come and see you tomorrow.'

‘Oh no!' Carmen groaned. ‘Couldn't you have said I was on holiday?'

‘I said that last time he called.'

‘Gynaecological appointment?'

‘I said that the time before last.'

‘Funeral?'

Trish tutted. ‘You really shouldn't tempt fate like that, Carmen.'

‘Oh, I know. Thanks anyway, Trish.' Carmen sighed and sipped her latte.

Karl Fraser was her least favourite client. In fact he was one of her least favourite people. He was egotistical, and yes, that was only to be expected in a comic, all her clients were, but Karl took it to another level. He was monstrously egotistical. He was also a misogynist, mean and had bad breath. Possibly Carmen could have forgiven those three flaws, but for one thing. In her opinion, Karl actually wasn't that funny. His humour was aggressive and laddish, like a punch in the face rather than a tickle in the ribs. Carmen adored clever performers like Eddie Izzard, Stewart Lee, Harry Hill and Bill Bailey, but Karl was so relentlessly cynical, charmless and crude. She had inherited him after he'd managed to alienate every other agent in the group and Tiana had ordered Carmen to take him on, promising her a bonus if she did. Funnily enough, she had never had the bonus, but she'd had more than enough of Karl.

She made inroads into her croissant and tried to push thoughts of noxious Karl out of her head as she wondered what fresh hell her appraisal would contain. Before Fox they hadn't really had appraisals. It had been a pretty informal system, where Matthew decided who would get a bonus largely on the basis of who hadn't had one the year before.

She looked up as Lottie knocked on her door, walked in and flopped down on the chair opposite her. ‘Bloody bollocking hell!' she exclaimed. ‘I've just been done over by Comedy Bypass.' Lottie was another agent who,
like Carmen, had been with Nicholson. She was in her late thirties but seemed younger, as she always looked as if she'd just been on a brisk country walk and had a constant healthy glow about her. She never wore make-up except the occasional flick of mascara. She had cropped, brownish-blonde hair, always wore jeans and white shirts, bit her nails, was gay and was also a fantastic agent.