Getting Even (13 page)

The following Saturday, Orianna and Dan were shopping in Covent Garden. Orianna, in the mood for spending, had gone through an impressive amount of her forthcoming pay raise before it had even been agreed upon. Guiltily she compared her four shopping bags to Dan's one.

“If you see something you like, I could buy it for your birthday. Any thoughts?”

Dan hesitated, then ventured, “You know what I'd really like? A watch.” He held out his wrist. “I've been making do with this, but it's not particularly me.”

“I agree.” Though she'd not said so, his lurid Swatch was not to her taste.

“I had a nice antique one that my uncle gave me, but I wore it in the sea last summer by mistake and salt ruined the workings.”

“A watch is a great idea!” Orianna gave a little skip. The notion that Dan would carry a little piece of her wherever he went delighted her. A recent ad sprang to mind. “I think Paul Smith has some.”

“Won't they be expensive?”

“Nah!” Orianna yanked him toward Floral Street. “I'm going to be creative director!”

Orianna took a moment to gain her bearings inside the dimly lit interior. Traditional oak cabinets, walls painted in muted colors, figurative oil paintings—the shop had been designed to seem as though it had been here forever. The atmosphere was hushed, almost reverential. She located the accessories, strode over with a purposeful clunk of heels on floorboard, and ran her fingers across the glass. Row upon row of pure wool socks. Roll upon roll of pure silk ties. Fold upon fold of pure cotton boxers. What a treat! Cuff links in every color and shape within the bounds of good taste. And, in the cabinet right at the back, the watches. It was all she could do not to choose one for him, but she held back, telling herself that despite his previous purchase (and the odd dodgy shirt she refrained from commenting on) Dan did have
some
idea of style.

Swiftly they narrowed it down to two.

“Which do you prefer?” said Dan.

She was pleased he seemed keen for her approval. One, in the corner, had a buff suede strap and a cream face with simple dashes indicating three, six, nine, and twelve. The other lay on a red spotted handkerchief. She wasn't enamored with its purple crocodile-skin strap, but the face, with plain Roman numerals on a white ground, was preferable. “That one.”

“You don't mind that strap?”

“It can always be changed.” She turned to an assistant hovering in hope of a sale. “Can't it?”

“I'm afraid we don't have any straps that would fit this particular design in stock at the moment.”

“Oh,” said Orianna.

The assistant coughed awkwardly. “We can order something for you?”

“We wanted to get something today though.”

Dan interjected, “The face reminds me of the one I used to have.” Then with a burst of confidence, confessed, “You know? I quite
like
purple.”

Orianna bit her lip. In her opinion the strap should be black or brown leather, or, at a stretch, chrome so it would coordinate with anything. It's
his
present, she reminded herself and turned to the assistant. “We'll have it.” Then to Dan, “But you must wait till your birthday.”

“Oh I do love you!” Dan said, and kissed her with a resounding smack on the cheek.

Orianna's heart skipped a beat.

Then he looked at her sheepishly.

He obviously meant it! It was the first time he'd said the words, and if she had to compromise over a garish watch strap to get him to say it, she didn't mind a bit.

*   *   *

“She said
what
?” Chloë gasped so loudly her mother turned and glared.

Rob and Chloë were sitting in the church on Chiswick Green, awaiting the arrival of the bride. Chloë's brother was already standing at the altar looking nervous.

Rob leaned into Chloë and whispered as quietly as he could, “Ivy told me Dan is bisexual. Said she had it on good authority he'd been seen at G-A-Y. Before he was going out with Orianna, but still.”

Chloë didn't answer at once. She reflected then whispered, “Yes, though he could have gone there to have a good time. I've been more often than I like to think, and I'm not gay.”

Rob hooted, “But you're the biggest fag hag there is!” before he could stop himself.

“Shhhhhhh!” Chloë's mother scowled.

Rob and Chloë adopted penitent expressions and were silent. After a while Rob couldn't bear it. No matter that Ivy had said to keep quiet; telling Chloë didn't count—she was going back to New York in two days. He reached into his jacket pocket for a pen.

Dan was seen snogging
a
GUY,
he wrote with relish on the program.

No need for her to write a response; her gaping jaw said it all.

Rob added,
And they were spotted leaving together!?

To which Chloë mouthed, “Blimey.”

At that moment there was a stirring and murmuring at the back of the church, and a unanimous turning of heads indicated the arrival of the bride. The organist thumped out the familiar tune, and Rob craned his neck around an array of hats that ranged from the fashionable and flamboyant (their generation) to the elegant and eccentric (Chloë's mother's) for a better view. In a cream, raw silk sheath that clung to her curves, the bride emerged, almost worthy of a spread in
Vogue
.

“Oh! She looks lovely!” Rob exclaimed. One thing he loved almost more than seducing a straight boy was a wedding, and by the end of the ceremony he was quite overcome. The bridegroom's angst had metamorphosed into proud happiness, and the bride's expression as they made their way back down the aisle hand-in-hand was a picture of womanly serenity, made all the more human by a touch of shyness. Rob clutched the defaced program to his chest. “They seem so happy!”

Chloë, dabbing her eyes with a hanky, seemed speechless for once.

I wonder if anyone will ever love
me
that much? wondered Rob. In spite of being amidst all these people, he suddenly felt very single and alone. He pushed away a wave of gloom, and turned his mind to Dan.

I want him sooo badly!
he thought.

Don't go there,
his alter ego argued
. If you're after even the teeniest degree of commitment, why bother?

But he's gorgeous!

Are you sure you don't want him because you can't have him?

But now I know there might be a chance!

And what about Orianna?
said the first voice.
She appears a very nice girl.

According to Ivy, she's only with him to get a leg up professionally,
countered the second.
She says Orianna's ambitious and money-grabbing and she betrayed her dearest friend. Why do you owe her any allegiance?

Is a man who's at best a closet job, at worst in love with a woman, truly a good bet?

Chloë tugged his sleeve. “Come on. I've got to be in the photos.”

Keen to appraise more outfits, Rob followed her rapid step down the aisle.

That evening, Rob told Chloë about Ivy's take on Orianna's promotion. He added only a few
very
minor embellishments of his own.

“So what do you reckon?”

Chloë frowned. “Isn't it possible Ivy has exaggerated Orianna's motives? I can't believe Orianna would date Dan purely to get promoted.”

“Hmph.”

“The girl I met didn't seem that conniving.”

“Aside from Orianna though, d'you reckon it's true that Dan's gay?”

“He didn't give off that vibe to me.”

“Well, he wouldn't, would he?”

“Eh?”

“You're a girl.”

“That's my point—he seemed straight. And … well, sometimes you have a tendency to think all good-looking boys must be gay.”

“I do not!” Rob bristled. “Like who?”

“Tom, Robbie, Kevin…” She cast her eyes upward. “Jason … According to you, every male star worth shagging is secretly gay.”

“How do you know they're not?”

“I don't. But how do you know they are?”

“Come on you two,” interrupted Chloë's mother. “You're like an old married couple. It's time to bid farewell to the bride and groom.”

As Chloë led the way through the throng, Rob said, “Yes, though what you see isn't always what you get with people, is it?”

“One might say the same of Ivy.”

“You've never even met her!”

“But I know what I hear. From what Orianna was saying, your Ivy sounds to be quite a woman.” Chloë pushed past a distant relative with a polite but firm, “Excuse me,” grabbed Rob's arm, and yanked him to the front.

Even though Rob was surrounded by attractive females, they were of the well-fed, well-turned-out, West London variety. Ivy's face flashed before him.

“She is.” He sighed. For alongside Dan, Rob was also falling half in love with Ivy. Sex was the last thing on his mind, but his admiration had a suitor-like blind intensity. If Ivy were here she'd outshine everyone, he thought.

Chloë said, “It's possible Ivy made the whole thing up about Dan.”

“No! She's clever and sharp, but Ivy's not like that. I swear.”

“If you say so.” Rob could tell she was unconvinced.

Pah! What does Chloë know? he reasoned. She's fallen for some rats in her time—she's not
that
clued-up about human nature. Whereas I've often seen through her boyfriends at once …

Rob was so preoccupied he didn't notice women congregating thickly around him until he turned to see he was hemmed in by shawls and sequins. It was too late to extricate himself, and before he knew it the newlyweds were poised at the top of the steps.

“
The bouquet! The bouquet!
” yelled Chloë's mum.

The bride threw her arm forward and up, propelling her pretty pink posy high … high … high into the air and down … down … down … The other girls pressed in but there was no stopping it; Rob could see it coming, but was too tightly wedged to move.

Thwack!
The bouquet landed right in his arms.

“But you're a man!” protested one woman.

“You have it.” He handed it to her.

“Don't be ridiculous.” Chloë snatched it back. “Sorry.” She turned to the woman. “He needs a boyfriend as much as you do. Come along, honey.” She took his hand. “Time for more champagne!”

Perhaps this means I'm going to get lucky with Dan, thought Rob. Now that's a prospect worth toasting.

*   *   *

Orianna and Dan finally stumbled through the door to her apartment at 7 p.m.

“Phew.” Dan dropped the shopping bags on the floor.

“Shall we get takeout?” said Orianna.

Dan agreed, and several glasses of wine and a DVD later, they tumbled into bed, prompted by some amorous fumblings on the sofa.

As they made love, Orianna experienced a tenderness that was new. Dan had been a caring lover from the outset, and she hoped she matched his thoughtfulness. When it came to slow caresses and gentle kisses they'd learned the geography of each other's bodies intimately, and both were open enough to communicate what turned them on. But nevertheless this particular evening there was something about the sensations of Dan's fingers on her skin, exploring her curves as if she were irresistible, that was not just erotically charged but sensitive and moving too. As he stroked her breasts she could sense his desire through his fingertips, and as he edged down lower, lower … then kissed and sucked where he knew she really liked it, she felt as if he was enjoying the experience even more than she was. At last he pulled her down the bed and entered her, and before too long she felt herself pause on the edge of such pure and intense bliss that she wished the moment would last forever. Then, as she felt him orgasm inside her, the pulses of pleasure tipped her over, and in a glorious, unstoppable rush, she came too.

I love him, she thought. Not in a shallow way that will burn itself out, but lastingly, deeply. And he loves me too. Maybe, just maybe, this is the one romance in my life that will have a happy ending.

 

15. And when I love thee not, chaos is come again

“What did you do this weekend?”

Ivy and Orianna were sitting at their desks opposite one another, sipping coffee in an attempt to rev up for the week ahead.

“I spent all Saturday shopping,” said Orianna.

“Ooh, get anything nice?”

“A few little things for the apartment.” Orianna downplayed her extravagance for fear Ivy might detect she'd been prompted by her pay raise. Yet she couldn't resist sharing, “And a Dolce and Gabbana skirt,” knowing how much Ivy appreciated clothes too. Their tastes were different—Ivy preferred clean lines; Orianna was a sucker for frills and flounces—but they shared a passion for fashion.

“Describe.”

“Deep plum color, some sort of satin, cut on the bias, with lace that crosses over at the front like this.” Orianna stood up to demonstrate.

“Bet that really suits you.”

Orianna smiled to herself, recalling the ardor with which Dan had undressed her after she'd worn it out the night before. No matter how much of a workaholic she was, it was rare to feel so content on a Monday morning. But a Sunday spent lounging in bed reading the papers, puttering in the garden, followed by taking Dan to meet some old school friends for supper was her idea of heaven, and she felt closer to him than ever. She was relieved to see Ivy was all smiles too, and the trauma of the previous week past history. She'd persuaded Dan to go easy on her workload to help smooth things over, convinced it was the best way forward for everyone.

I won't mention the watch, Orianna decided. No matter how amiable Ivy's being, she's sure to scoff if we seem too much the cozy couple.