The Goddess Rules (10 page)

“How terrible,” Kate said. Without too much sympathy.
Only very rich people can afford such indulgences,
she thought. Most people had to work in boring offices and make coffee for a bullying boss at that age. Not much flouncing around party islands in the Mediterranean for most people.

“I struggled for years with my demons and thankfully now, well today at least, I’m free of most of them. Though I’m still in therapy.”

“As well as the eight meetings a week?” Kate asked. Joss nodded. “Can’t leave much time for tennis and stuff then, hey?”

“Actually I’m rather good at tennis. My coach said that I have the strongest backhand he’s ever seen and I ought to compete. But my therapist thinks that it wouldn’t be good for my self-esteem to partake in competitive sports.”

“Poor you,” Kate said, rather genuinely this time. Because whatever Joss’s crimes were, however many drugs he had taken, it was a bit unfortunate that he was such a world-class bore.

Kate proceeded to listen to Joss for at least another half hour. She sat with her cardigan on her shoulders and a sympathetic look etched on her face and listened as he told her all about his sobriety. He even had the audacity to tell her that if she was attracted to him, then it probably meant that some form of alcohol abuse had taken place in her own family.

“Well, my mum does like a sneak of the cooking sherry now and then,” she volunteered.

“It’s the sneaking that’s the problem, you see,” Joss told her gravely. “If she can’t be open about it, then that suggests abuse.”

“Gosh, I’ll have to have a word with her,” Kate said, quite enjoying the idea of how much her mother would howl with laughter to be told that she was a closet alcoholic.

“And don’t neglect your own needs, either, Kate,” Joss told her with a lot of seriousness but not a huge amount of compassion, she decided, given that he’d just broken to her the devastating news of her dysfunctional family. “I can give you my therapist’s number. And if you and I are going to have a relationship, then I’d be more comfortable if you were attending Al-Anon meetings. For families of recovering addicts.”

“Actually, Joss, I think I went a bit mad with the orange juice. I’ve got to dash to the loo. Would you mind?” Kate smiled and fled for cover to the ladies’, where she sat for a startled moment or two wondering whether she could face going back or whether he’d have a brigade of counselors waiting to cart her off to Farm Place or some rehab joint because she’d confessed to having a bit of a craving for the hard stuff earlier.

Eventually she had managed to convince herself to head back out into the club and give Joss one more chance. He was so handsome, and maybe she had been a little bit hasty to condemn him as a spoiled, bossy bore. She decided she’d try a bit more compassion. And thankfully when they arrived at the magazine launch they barely had to speak to one another at all. They said hi to people, Kate had a sneaky cocktail behind a pillar, and Joss seemed almost normal among the people he knew. Kate picked up a copy of the glossy magazine to take home, found herself a goodie bag with a bottle of scent in it, a ticket to a spa, and a miniature of Absolut vodka (
Save that for later,
she thought). So all in all it hadn’t turned out to be a bad evening. And every date was an experience, she told herself as Joss climbed into a taxi beside her and invited her back to his place for a fine green tea.

“My teas are my Bordeaux these days,” he said. And though Kate thought this mildly hilarious, it was quite sweet, so she agreed to a nightcap.

Unfortunately, as Kate and Joss sat next to one another on his smooth leather sofa and talked about modern art, she began to feel miserably depressed. The whole situation was so sterile, so unsexy, so unlovely. It wasn’t the easy fun time she’d had with Jake. (There, she’d said it, she hadn’t meant to but his name just popped up.) And Joss, while not such a bad person, was absolutely no fun at all to be with. His sense of humor, if he’d ever had one, had probably been left behind in the gutter in Ibiza along with half of his hair.

“Can I kiss you?” he’d asked, and Kate felt just a bit as though he was simply being polite and kissing her as a favor to Robbie and Tanya, like bringing a box of Bendicks Bittermints along to a dinner party.

“If you like,” Kate said sweetly, because even if he was being polite, it was still more flattering than not being asked. So she sat with her hands in her lap until Joss finally closed in on her, clasped his hands carefully and dispassionately around her cheeks as though she were a hot dish of stew he was removing from the oven, and kissed her. Kate moved her hands from her lap and returned the gesture. At first she thought how pleasant the citrus smell of his cheeks was and she was even feeling a butterfly or two in her stomach, until Joss finally settled into a rhythm and she realized that it was not the kind of kiss she was used to at all. And not the kind she wanted to get used to, either. This was not a slow, sexy, playful moment that she wanted to last for hours—it was a sort of dry washing-machine motion—round and round one way for a bit. Oh, and then the cycle changed to a wools-and-silks cycle—slower, with less power and certainly not as much heat. Kate put a hand on his chest and held Joss at bay for a second.

“Just getting a sip of my lovely green tea.” She smiled and grabbed her mug. God, something had to warm up the proceedings. She took a deep breath and decided that it had to be her.
He’s handsome, he’s clever, he’s kind,
she told herself as she plunged back in for the rematch.
Show a bit of enthusiasm, Kate,
she told herself.
The guy’s probably just nervous.

“I love your lips,” she said, and began to slowly kiss them, while simultaneously reaching down with her hand. She felt for the sign of life in his pants, but nothing much seemed to be happening. Ah, well, she continued the kissing, and ran her hand along his chin, taking the lead, kissing him in what she thought was a sexy way. She even contemplated doing a Mirri-on-the-hammock and making for his zipper with her teeth, but thought maybe she wouldn’t terrify him with the full repertoire just yet, and the prospect of failing and biting the wrong thing or breaking a tooth was more worry than she could deal with just this minute. So instead she just made a few hot and heavy noises and pulled his head close into her face.

“You’re quite bossy, aren’t you?” Joss suddenly said as she was sucking softly on his earlobe.

“I’m sorry?” Kate wasn’t sure what he’d said. Or really whether she’d heard right.

“Well, much as I hate to say this,” he began, with his nose ever so slightly in the air, “I really don’t like aggressively sexual women.” Clearly he didn’t hate to say it or he wouldn’t have, because Kate didn’t see any thumbscrews or torture implements forcing him to tell the brutal truth.

“I see.” Kate felt as though she’d been punched in the ribs.

“God, don’t take it personally.” He rolled his eyes as though she was overreacting as she sat back on the sofa and wiped her dry lips.

“Well, how would you like me to take it, Joss?” She stood up and was about to button up her skirt but she realized that he had never actually unbuttoned it. “It wasn’t the girl in the flat next door who was kissing you. It was me. So really I have no choice but to take it personally.”

“Christ, you’re so sensitive.” He groaned irritably.

“I am actually, Joss.” Kate, quite uncharacteristically, took a deep breath and decided to speak up. “I’m so sensitive that I sat for three hours this evening and listened to your tedious stories about drug taking. I’m so sensitive that I actually pretended to care. And you couldn’t even muster up enough gentlemanliness to pretend for a second to fancy me.”

“I did fancy you a bit.” He remained seated on the sofa as Kate made her way to the door. “I just really can’t bear it when women try on that sexy shit.”

“ ’Bye, Joss,” Kate said with her hand on the door before turning around and adding, “And by the way, my mother is a really nice woman and a sip of cooking sherry before Sunday lunch does not make her a dysfunctional freak like yourself. Okay?” With which she closed the door of Joss’s flat behind her and ran down the stairs from his building, her heart beating furiously in her chest.

As Kate stood outside on the pavement, hoping against hope that she might find a taxi on its way back from a drop-off in South Kensington, she felt a tear slip down her cheek. She wiped it away, furious with herself.

“Don’t you dare,” she snapped, and pulled her cardigan tightly across her chest. She pulled off her shoes, which were rubbing the back of her heel, and walked from Joss’s flat toward the lights of a busy intersection. She fought back the thoughts of Jake and she fought back her humiliation. She told herself that Joss didn’t matter and that it wasn’t her he hated, it was just women. But it didn’t make her feel a whole lot better. Finally a taxi came by and picked her up.

“Primrose Hill, please,” she said to the driver as she sat in the backseat and rummaged through her purse to make sure she had enough cash. She saw that her phone was blinking and pulled it out.
ONE MISSED CALL
. Her heart did the dance of the stupid people for a moment until she saw that it was from Tanya’s home number. She looked at the phone long and hard, as though it were the I Ching or an ancient prophet sitting on a throne of lotus leaves, and might tell her what she must do next. Then she flicked down the list of names until she stopped at the number she had hoped to see and took a deep breath. And a sensible person would have pressed the
OFF
button and put the phone back in her bag, but Kate wasn’t thinking like a sensible person. She was worried. Worried that if Joss was someone who was supposed to be nice, clever, considerate, and came highly recommended by good friends, then God only knew what would happen if she went out on a date with a man she’d met at a bus stop. It was as if someone had cauterized her soul. She felt like Woody Allen in
Annie Hall
when he tried to re-create the magic of his and Annie’s lobster moment with another woman. She felt as if she’d never have fun with anybody again, as if nobody else in the world
got
her. Apart from the man whose number she was dialing.

“Kate.” Jake sounded pleased to hear from her. And not at all surprised.

“I’ve had a terrible evening, do you want to go get a drink?” She closed her eyes, laid her one card on the table, and waited for him to reply.

“I always want to get a drink, angel.”

“Then I’ll see you in ten minutes. Are you in Bernie’s?” she asked.

“Sure am,” Jake said.

“See you soon.” Kate hung up.

Kate leaned back on the seat and was besieged by a sense of euphoria. “Excuse me, do you think we could do a detour to Chelsea?” she asked the cabdriver apologetically. “Slight change of plan.” And as the cab swung around in the middle of the street Kate slid to the other side of the leather seat and grappled with the contents of her makeup bag at the same time. Lipstick, comb, and a mint. Well, she still had revolting Joss’s dirty washing swilling around in her mouth so that was a must.

Kate hadn’t been to Bernie’s for months and she felt her legs begin to weaken slightly as she stepped from the cab onto the pavement outside the door to the bar. She swallowed the remains of her mint and pushed the door open. There at the bar, in his usual place, sat Jake. As he heard the door he turned to her, his familiar brown eyes taking in her smart but shoeless look.

“Scotch for the lady.” Jake winked at the barmaid as Kate walked in the door and made her way toward her familiar stool. This was Jake’s place. He ate supper here almost every night and smoked his last cigarette of the day here. It was a dark and very average bar but to Kate it was like returning to the only place she’d ever been truly happy. She and Jake had spent entire Sunday afternoons here reading the newspapers together, arguing madly over politics, poring over horoscopes, deciding which movies to go and see. He’d brought her here on their first date and yet for some reason she couldn’t remember the last time they’d been here together. Probably near the end. She suspected that she’d blocked it out along with a hundred and one other miserable moments that she and Jake had experienced in the last few weeks of being together, when he stopped looking her in the eye, when she had known by the rash that always broke out on the back of her hands when she was deeply unhappy that it was all over.

“Hi, Jake.” Kate raised herself onto the bar stool and gave Jake a kiss on the cheek. She pulled her shoes back on and then sat up and looked at him. She was still a little unsure of postrelationship etiquette, but one thing she knew for sure: She didn’t want to make it too easy for him. Even though she knew she’d been criminally available when she rang him, it didn’t mean she had to roll over and concede defeat now that she was here. In front of him and as good as on a plate with goddamned garnish on top.

“You’re looking like a million dollars.” Jake smiled at her over his drink. She looked away.

“I went on a date from hell. I came to wind down a bit before bed,” she said by way of an excuse. She had also hoped that Jake might be taken aback or even upset by the fact that she was dating again so soon after him. If he was upset he didn’t show it.

“We both know why you came.” He leaned in close and breathed on her neck, near the back where her hair was hot and sticky.

“I wanted a drink and, frankly, Jake, you’re the only person in London I know who would be available for a stiff one at this hour.”

“No pun intended.” He wouldn’t let her drop his gaze.

“None at all.” Kate picked up the Scotch that had been placed in front of her and took a pinch between her lips. It melted the back of her throat and tasted awful. She took another sip. “Just too much work and then terrible men.” She looked down into her glass, through the deep amber liquid to the heavy bottom.

“Nothing changes, then.” Jake smiled.

“You got it,” Kate said. “Anyway I didn’t come here to discuss that. I came to escape it. So what’s new in your life, Jake? Since we didn’t get a chance to talk much last week.”