Turn It Loose (10 page)

“What do you want to do today?” he asked, as they lay in bed. She leaned into him as she typed, working on her first column for
Glamour
. Jaylah couldn’t believe how perfect things had worked out. After a herky-jerky start, she and Johnny fell into the comfortable rhythm of a happy couple, spending nights and weekends together watching films, making love, and talking about the future.

He’d virtually lived at
her flat the past week and she relished being able to make him breakfast and see him off in the mornings.

“Brick Lane,” she said,
finally answering his question. “I haven’t been yet and I want to snap some pictures for my column. I need to make sure it’s perfect. I made a lot of promises to land it, now I have to deliver.”

He closed
her laptop. “No working today, innit? You’re leaving in three weeks.”

“But I’m coming back
.”

“
Minor detail. I still won’t be able to see you,” he parted her lips with his tongue. “Let’s just have fun today. Maybe a little shopping on me?”

“For earrings?” she asked, excited
to add a few pairs to her eclectic collection.

“For whatever you want,”
Johnny said, tasting her mouth again.

“Yay! Let’s get dressed.”

* * *

Brick
Lane was an explosion of color. Gigantic murals, and an array of clothes, shoes, and painted canvases spilled out from every corner. The smell of lamb gyros clashed with pungent curries and roasting meat, and musicians crowded onto the sidewalks to belt out classic tunes and get discovered. It was hard to focus; all of Jaylah’s senses were bombarded at once, causing her to turn at a moment’s notice, distracted by a streak of green hair or a 20-foot high painting of an elephant with tentacles.

This was not stuffy old England
where afternoons meant donning your Sunday best and toasting the Queen over decadent teas. Brick Lane Market was London at its grimiest, most creative and alive.

Jaylah and Johnny
rambled through the bazaar, stopping to examine the handmade merchandise and chat with vendors. She marveled at a man doling out Salt-n-Pepa-style asymmetrical haircuts in an alleyway, and contemplated jumping in the long line to let him hook her up with a style that represented how she felt now—brand new.

She was definitely d
ifferent than when she arrived. Jaylah’s tongue was no longer bound by strict rules decorum; she could speak her mind—most of the time anyway. And she had not only survived in a foreign country, but thrived, building the life she always daydreamed about.

There was no Pulitzer, no six-figure book deal,
no invites to the White House press room, but Jaylah had everything she’d ever wanted—a sister who had her back, a job she actually enjoyed, a man she was beginning to love, and a voice. She’d found her voice and treasured it.

“
Remind me to call my mother tonight,” she told Johnny as they traversed the maze of booths and people.

Mrs. Baldwin had been right;
Jaylah did land on her feet after all. Two months ago she was either on the verge of a nervous breakdown or working on becoming the best drunk L.A. had ever seen, but moving to London saved her and helped snatch victory from the jaws of near-certain defeat.

Jaylah
shook her head and chuckled; things in the game had definitely changed.

“Are you hungry?” Johnny asked when they got closer to the
food stalls in the UpMarket.

“A little.
I could go for something small.”

They weaved through the
Old Truman Brewery passing merchants hawking octopus fritters, Empanadas, sushi, and barbequed fish. Jaylah snapped pictures of the delicacies as they moved from booth to booth, making a note to herself to write about the city’s growing street food culture.

After
eyeing the options, they bought two sea bass sandwiches from a Jamaican cook and ambled outside.

“Oh my God, this is so good,” she said,
biting into the sandwich, which was stuffed with fried plantains.

They sat on the curb sipping
beer, enjoying the sunshine, and watching the gaggle of people around them. She loved that Johnny was as comfortable eating on the side of the road as he was dining in a Michelin starred restaurant. He complimented her perfectly—boosting her energy when she was dragging, and settling her down if she was beginning to freak out.

“Ready to shop?” he asked, draining his brew.

“You read my mind. I want to check out the jewelry booths. I have a slight earring addiction you know.”

“Slight?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow, “You have like 100 pair
s.”

“It’s my thing.
Some women buy shoes, I try to find earrings no one else has. Come.”

Jaylah led the way, stopping at every table that caught her eye. She spotted a pair of wooden, hand-painted sphinxes and held them up.

“You like?”

“They’re…different, b
ut I can see you wearing them.”

She continued looking at the colorful accessories
, picking them up and placing them close to her ears to see which ones she liked best.

“I’m going to check
the watch vendor,” he said, pointing a row over. “Be right back, yeah?”

Jaylah nodded, too
focused on the artisan charms to answer. She continued searching until she found a pair of brass dewdrop earrings with slivers of vintage maps and love letters inside the hull. She bought them and rushed to find Johnny to show them off.

She spotted him near the watchmaker talking to a
short man. When Jaylah walked up behind him she overheard the tail end of their conversation.

“
Listen man, we need to get together soon,” the man said.

“Definitely. I’ve got my hands pretty full
right now, but maybe in a few weeks.”

“Sound like a plan. By the way, how’s
your wife, uh, Fiona, doing?”

Jaylah froze.
Wife?
Did she hear him correctly? He had to be confused, she thought. Perhaps he had mistaken Johnny for someone else.

“She’s fine.
Visiting her family in Scotland for the month,” Johnny said.

“We’ll all have to
get together when she returns. Susan would love to see her again. I’ve got to go, but I’ll call you, yeah?”

“
Yeah man, sounds good.”

Johnny turned around and nearly crashed into Jaylah. She
eyed him in disbelief.

“Wife?
You’re married?”

Johnny seemed to grasp for the right words, but came up empty.

“You’re married?” she asked again. “Answer me!”

“Yes, but—“

“But what? But what, Johnny? I can’t fucking believe this,” she said turning to leave.

“Jayla
h, wait. Please. Let me explain,” he said, hurrying behind her.

She turned on her heels, “Are you separated? Getting di
vorced? Because otherwise—“

“
No, we’re not,” he said quietly, “But I haven’t been happy for a long time.”

She glared at him,
“How long have you been married?”

“Four years.
I never really wanted to get married in the first place, but we were together for so long and everyone kept pressuring us. And when she got pregnant, I had to—“

“Wait, wait, wait,” she cut him off. “You’re married
and
you have a child?”

“Jaylah, listen—
”

“Don’t touch me,”
she yelled, “Don’t you dare touch me.”

“C
an we go somewhere and talk about this? Please?”

“W
e don’t have anything to talk about, Johnny,” she said turning to run away, “ever!”

He
followed her calling out her name, but Jaylah tore through the market like a cannonball and he lost her in the crowd.

Her
heart pounded and her face was stained with tears. She had sprinted four blocks to get away, putting as much distance between them as she possibly could.

“Married? Johnny’s
married? How could I miss this?”

Jaylah
slumped against a wall and slid to the ground, searching her memory for anything that would have tipped her off to Johnny’s secret. She felt sick; the fish they’d eaten bubbled to her throat and she fought to keep it down.

Married?
The word sliced into her each time it echoed through her brain.

Was she the other woman? A home wrecker? A slut?

“How could I be so stupid?” she said aloud, angry with herself for falling for him.  “Nothing serious, remember, Jaylah? You weren’t supposed to let this happen!”

She scolded herself for allowing Johnny into her heart.
She had been so trusting, believing him when he said he wanted to slow things down, get to know her, build a future.

Jaylah rummaged through her bag to find her phone, she needed to hear that this was not her fault
, that loving him didn’t mean she’d lost her mind.

“Are
you at home? It’s an emergency!” she texted Jourdan.

“WHAT’S WRONG?!” she replied almost immediately.

“It’s bad. I’m coming over,” she typed, “And we’re going to need vodka. Lots of vodka.”

Jaylah staggered
to the Aldgate East Tube station and hopped on the train heading for Shepard’s Bush. To keep herself from crying—or even thinking—she focused on the glass in front of her and counted the number of the times the train screeched to a halt.

Sixteen stops later she exited the train and dragged herself to Jourdan’s apartment.

“Out with it!” her friend commanded as soon as she opened the door.

Jaylah collapsed into a chair
and bawled. She struggled so hard to hold back the tears, but could no longer stop them from escaping down her face.

“What happene
d? What’s wrong?” Jourdan asked in a panic.

“He’s married.
Johnny’s married.”

“What?!
Are you sure?”

“I overheard him talking to this man. We
were shopping and the man asked him, ‘How’s your wife?’ At first I thought he had Johnny mixed up with someone else, but then he told the man she was in Scotland for the month. Just like that.” Jaylah sobbed, “I felt like I’d been punched in the gut.”

Jourdan crossed the room and rubbed Jaylah’s back.
“Did he try to explain?”

“What could he say? He’
s fucking married!”

Jourdan handed her friend
a glass of wine. “I thought I said vodka?”

“We’ll work up to it,” Jourdan said. “So are they separated?
They could be on the outs. It might not be as bad as you think.”

“They’re not. He said he never wanted to get married until she got pregnant, and—“

“He has a child?” Jourdan screeched.

“Is that bad enough for you?
I ran out of there. I didn’t need to hear anything else.”

“So now what?”

“I’m happy I’m leaving in a few weeks. Maybe I won’t come back.”

“Don’t be silly.
You can’t go running home just because Johnny turned out to be a cheating asshole. You’re better than that.”

“What if I run into him, though? I can’t imagine seeing him…and his wife,” Jaylah shuddered.

“Don’t let him chase you away, Jaylah. You have a life here. And I need you too, you know.”

“
You don’t. You’re strong enough to handle anything, Jourdan. I’m the mess remember?”

“No, you aren’t,” she patted her friend’s hand, “And I do need you, Jaylah.
I know I seem like I’m this Iron Lady or something, but I’m not. Growing up, I was the fat girl everyone picked on, and being nice meant getting your ass kicked. So I developed a defense. It’s hard to shake, though, even now. You’re literally my only close friend.”

“But you kn
ow everybody, people love you.”

“They aren’t my friends, Jaylah, they’re
just people I know. There’s a difference. I love you, you’re my sister, remember? I’m not giving you up, especially over a man.”

Jaylah hugged her
friend; thankful she was able to stop her from careening over the edge. Since the moment they met Jourdan had looked out for her, helping her get settled and laying down roots in her new city. Jourdan was right; she couldn’t walk away from her new life because she got her heart broken, not when she ventured to London to stand on her own.

“
Now give me your glass. It’s time for the hard stuff.”