Angels (52 page)

“Everything. For Karen. The awful months when we didn't properly talk. For keeping my mouth shut about Delaney and hoping it would go away.”

“It has gone away.” My breath was short. “I swear.”

“Why did you go to the airport?”

422 / MARIAN KEYES

“Because…” How did I say it? How to encapsulate the shift where everything came into focus and Garv was in the center? “I'd thought it was over with us, I really thought it was gone forever. Then after seeing you today it all flared up again and every feeling was still there and I knew I'd always take the snail off your windshield. And not off anyone else's.”

I finished on a gasp, and as Garv said nothing, my nerves stretched to invisibility. I felt like a prisoner waiting to hear the verdict of the jury.

“Let me put it another way,” I tried. “I love you.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, honestly, I mean, of
course
, would I have gone to the airport and tried to be Meg Ryan otherwise?”

And he surprised me by saying, “The flight wasn't really full—I just said it to try to hold on to the last shred of my self-respect. I got to the airport and thought it was stupid to come all this way and give up so soon.” He shrugged. “I came back to give it one more try with you.”

“Oh. Oh. Well. Great! Why?”

He looked away to one side as he thought about it, then laughed softly and faced me. “Because you're my favorite.”

“Well, you're
my
favorite.”

“Make up your own compliments.”

“Sorry. Okay. I love you.”

“I love you.”

“Now you're doing it.”

“That's because I have very little imagination.”

“That makes two of us. We have a lot in common.”

“Yeah.”

“What would you have done,” I asked cautiously, “if I hadn't come home? If I had…you know…stayed with Shay?”

“Dunno. Gone mad. Started eating lightbulbs.”

“Well, I didn't, so the lightbulbs are safe.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.” I swallowed. And all of a sudden, the way he was ANGELS / 423

looking at me made me nervous and shy. “So…um…what happens now?”

“Well, we're in Hollywood,” he said, taking a step closer to me,

“so…ah…we could drive a car off a cliff?”

“Or run down a hill in slow motion?” I shifted nearer until I was close enough to get his delicious Garv smell.

“Or I could take you in my arms and kiss you until the room starts spinning around.”

“I like the sound of the kissing,” I said, barely above a whisper.

“Me too.”

So we did.

A WEEK LATER
Larry Savage got the sack from Empire—just came in one morning and without explanation was told to clear his desk, then was escorted off the lot. Par for the course if you're a movie executive, they say. Emily's script is languishing on a shelf at Empire and the story of
Chip the Dog
looks likely never to be told. Which would have been a blessing, Emily said, except it also meant she got paid only half of her fee.

So great was her fear of turning into the man shouting outside the supermarket that she resolved to get out of the scriptwriting game altogether. But Troy put an end to that by getting financing for an independent production of her newest script. Apparently, it's brilliant, really dark—Emily says it's thanks to the fact that she was so depressed and scared while writing it. Some producer from another small studio is interested in reviving
Hostage
! And one way and another, the wolf is being kept from the door, even if Mrs.

Emily still hasn't had a chance to wear her navy spangly dress to a premiere. However, she might get a chance to wear it in the near future. Not to a film premiere, but to a wedding—Emily and Troy's.

I will admit to having had my doubts over Troy's fidelity, but since Emily hooked up with him, he's been a model of good behavior.

Lou halfheartedly stalked Emily for a couple of weeks, then gave up, but when Kirsty heard about Troy and Emily, ANGELS / 425

she turned to food. Apparently she put on fifteen pounds in as many days. I'd laugh except it would be mean.

Lara continues to be a great big golden ball of life and hasn't yet found the right girl, but is having fantastic fun looking. Justin is still living a shut-down life with Desiree, but things picked up recently for him when the other fat, expendable guy contracted glandular fever and lost a ton of weight.

Reza kicked her husband out and told him to go and live with

“his whore.” He was back within the week, prostrating himself with contrition.

The poor mad scriptwriter is still hanging around the supermarket shouting set directions at the people buying their groceries.

Luis's little problem cleared up with the second round of antibiotics. He, Ethan, and Curtis finished college, shaved off their goatees, grew their hair (those who were in the habit of shaving their heads), and got respectable. The Dukes of Hazzard mobile was sent to the wrecker's yard.

Charmaine and Mike are still Charmaine and Mike. Before I left, Charmaine told me my aura wasn't as toxic as it had been. Occasionally the fable-telling group calls Mum and asks her to come back. She sent them a copy of
The Tales of Finn McCool
and hopes that they'll now leave her in peace.

Connie got married and didn't get kidnapped on her honeymoon.

Helen, to everyone's astonishment, really did set up a private-detective agency when she returned to Ireland. She specializes in

“domestics”—i.e., she traps cheating spouses—and she's kept busy.

Anna got on so well in her new job that they promoted her from the bowels of the mailroom to the bright lights of the front desk.

She no longer mentions Shane and apparently gets the occasional E-mail from Ethan. Sometimes, to upset Mum, she says he's going to come and visit as soon as he gets time off.

Dad's neck is better now. So are my relations with him. It 426 / MARIAN KEYES

took a while, and even longer with my mother.

Dark Star Productions went bust, but Shay already has a highflying new job in another film company. As Claire said—almost admiringly—when she heard, “There he goes again. Falling into a pit of shit and coming out smelling of Paloma Picasso.”

I was watching telly the other day and they were previewing a glossy new drama series from America when I saw someone who looked familiar. It took me a moment; he was a lot shinier and more packaged than the last time I'd seen him. “It's Rudy,” I yelped.

“It's the ice-cream seller from the beach in Santa Monica. I used to buy Klondike bars from him.” No one believed me, of course.

Is that everyone? Oh, me. I'm in bed, unable to move, on account of being eight months pregnant and huge. I haven't seen my toes for weeks, and once I lie on my back, I can't turn over or get up without Garv sliding a stick in under me and leaning on it. I've promised Helen that I'll tell her how agonizing the birth is and that I won't fob her off with any talk of miracles.

Garv and I are very together. It hasn't always been easy; we've had the occasional shout at each other as we've ironed everything out, but at this stage, we're sure our bond is strong enough to survive the blips. Even though we were separated and angry with each other, we were still linked.

As he says himself, the stars are always there, even in the daylight.

Sometimes we just can't see them.

E-Book Extra

The Seven Deadlies: A Previously

Unpublished Story by Marian Keyes

CHAPTER ONE: A MOMENT OF GRACE

I am an angel. Go on, have a good laugh, but, really I am. An angel. A proper, fully paid-up heavenly one with wings, halo, the whole lot.

And I’m in Los Angeles on a mission. A mission from God, since you ask.

Which all sounds very important but to be honest with you the reason I’m here isn’t such a great one. Some angels just have a natural aptitude for the job. I, unfortunately, am not one of them, so I’ve been sent to earth on a course. In order that I can help humans I need to understand them. So while I’m here I have to commit — but not TOO enthusiastically, of course — each of the seven deadly sins. I’ve got seven days to do it in.

“Envy, Sloth, Greed,” Ibrox, my superior listed off. “Gluttony, Anger, Envy — no I said Envy already, didn’t I? I can never remember the seven. It’s the same with the seven dwarves, I can usually do five, then I just draw a blank. You try.”

“Grumpy, Dopey, Snee…”

“No! The seven deadlies.”

“Sorry. OK, Greed, Envy, Sloth, Anger, Gluttony…” I looked at him helplessly.

“Pride,” he supplied. “And you’ll remember the seventh.”

So off I went. And here I am in Silverlake, Los Angeles, standing outside the apartment which is going to be home for the next week.

Apparently I’ve been recommended by a friend of a friend of a friend and I will have two roommates — Nick, an actor who plays 428 / MARIAN KEYES

a lot of pyschopaths and Tandy, an actress who gets offered sluttygirl roles a lot.

I rang the bell. No one came. I rang again and heard some muffled shouting from inside. Then a man wrenched open the door.

“What?!” He was a mess — wild hair, wild eyes. Looks like this Nick is a method actor. And I wasn’t too happy about the bad smell, either, but I’m sure they placed me here for a reason….

I stuck out my hand and gave him my biggest smile.

“I’m Grace and you must be Nick!” I was really ‘on’.

“And you must be out of your mind,” he growled.

Wrong apartment! Mine was the next one along. See what I mean about me being a lousy angel? Could you imagine if I was the Archangel Gabriel? I’d probably call to the wrong house and tell the wrong woman that she was about to become the mother of God. I’ll never make the big time, not if I carry on like this.

I moved one apartment along and Tandy answered the door.

She gave me a speedy but thorough once-over and when she saw that she was thinner than me, she visibly relaxed and gave me a great big old smile. “Come on in!”

She was really, really pretty, but to be honest I could see why she kept getting the hooker-type roles. Her lips were so pneumatic they looked as if they were about to burst and she was x-ray skinny, apart from a very large pair of breasts which clearly belonged on a different body.

“Nick, come and say hey to your new roommate,” She called.

In came Nick. I took one look at him and remembered the elusive seventh sin. Lust!

“Hey,” he said vaguely.

Hey, indeed!

Dark-haired, gangly and loose-limbed, his eyes have a “not-known-at-this-address” distance to them. Just out of curiosity, I wondered if I was his type. I look a bit like those Renaissance paintings of angels, except without the halo, the wings and the nakedness — no need to freak people out, I always say. But I have all the other stuff — blonde curly hair, a round, rosy-cheeked face and I’m a little plumper than they generally seem to like them in Los Angeles.

Just then a girl emerged into the room after Nick. She was weeping.

“Nick…” she beseeched, trying to grab onto him. She was sloe

ANGELS / 429

eyed, silky-haired and tiny. With a sudden, fierce passion, I wanted to be her.

“Take care, baby.” He steered her, very firmly, to the door.

“Missing you already.”

“But…” She tried again. Nick kissed her tenderly on her forehead, while managing to deposit her in the hallway.

From the way Tandy rolled her eyes at me, this clearly happened a lot.

Nick clicked the door shut, waited, tensed against a storm of crying and yelling from outside, then relaxed when nothing happened. She’d obviously decided to limp away and lick her wounds quietly. “Why do I always hurt those I love?” He inquired of no one in particular, then absent-mindedly left the room.

You know what? I was suddenly very glad I wasn’t that dainty, exquisite girl.

“Granola,” Tandy called. “Come and meet Grace.”

For the first time I noticed a little white terrier, sitting alert in a basket. He was staring, as though mesmerized by me. Yikes! You can fool people into believing you’re a human being, but animals work on a different level. Granola knew there was something very weird about me.

“What is wrong with you, doggie?” Tandy coaxed.

“OK,” she shrugged. “Be rude. So Grace, you wanna go out tonight and get trashed on strawberry cheesecake martinis?”

“That would be delightful!” I’d just been shot through with that lonesome, away-from-home feeling. Getting trashed sounded like exactly what I needed.

Later, as we left to go out, I told Tandy about calling first to the wrong apartment.

“You did what? You called into crazy Karl’s?” She was horrified.

“He is like, a totally insane alcoholic. He’s always yelling and howling at the moon, like a crazy dog.

“Although,” she said, as we passed his door, “He’s quiet right now.” She sounded almost disappointed.

As we drove along, palm trees were silhouetted against the skyline. The sun was setting and the sky was layered with colours: pale blue low down, rising and darkening overhead to a deep luminous blue, in which the first twinkling stars were set like diamonds.

430 / MARIAN KEYES

We went to a bar on Sunset. It was a young, cool, vibey place, packed with good-looking people. If I hadn’t been with Tandy I’d have been too intimidated to go in.

Almost as soon as we sat down a bottle of champagne was sent over by a handsome dude who had the hots for Tandy. To my great disappointment she refused to accept it. “I totally don’t want to meet him so it wouldn’t be fair,” she insisted.

“Ohhh-kaaay.”

Over flavoured martinis I got Tandy’s life story. She came from a rich, academic family back East. Her elder sister had a Phd in something scarily impressive and managed to run a home and was very good at tennis. Her younger sister made her first four million by setting up a dot.com site selling cool purses and she was so good at horse riding she could have made the Olympic team if she’d wanted. Tandy’s entire family was aghast at her decision to become an actress and even more aghast that she worked as a temp while waiting to hit the big time.