Second Hand Jane (19 page)

Nick reappeared
as promised a few minutes later. Jess didn’t know why she was
surprised he’d come back because it wasn’t as though he could do a
runner; she was in his apartment, after all. He handed her a couple
of what she hoped would be miracle pills and a cup of coffee.
Clasping the mug with both hands, she inhaled the rich aroma
gratefully. He must have one of those fancy coffee machines, she
decided, and taking a tentative sip, she was pleased it stayed
down. She swallowed the tablets one after the other, willing them
to take effect.

Nick looked
amused as he sat down on the bed next to her. “Are you hungry?
Because I do a mean bacon buttie.”

Jess’s tummy
rolled violently as Wilbur floated before her eyes. “Um, no—the
coffee is fine, thanks.”

“Sure?”

“Sure.”

“Look, I hate
to have to do this but I’ve got a meeting I have to be at for ten.
I can drop you home on my way if you like?”

Jess glanced at
the bedside table clock. It was already nine. She didn’t add, “So,
no chance of a bit of the old morning delight then?” That would be
sure to take her mind off the pain in her head. Mind you, in her
current state she was not exactly looking or feeling like a femme
fatale and she supposed she should be grateful not to have to
venture outside to loiter on street corners, waiting for public
transport.

“Yeah, that
would be great, thanks, if it’s not putting you out?”

“No, not at
all.”

Jess finished
her coffee as Nick told her about the meeting he was going to.

“There’s a
couple of stay-at-home mums—you know, the type that call themselves
home executives?” he sneered.

She didn’t know
of any mothers who called themselves that but she nodded
anyway.

“
They’ve got far too much time on their
hands, blocking the sale of this decrepit bloody community centre
that is a safety hazard anyway. I have to try to convince the
Council that they’re bored housewives with nothing better to do
than hold up progress and it
is
progress. Who wouldn’t rather add value to their property
with luxury apartments in the neighbourhood instead of an eyesore
of a public building?” His voice was steely and Jess remembered her
conversation with Jo the night before.

Still, she
thought he was a businessman and successful businessmen didn’t set
out to make friends with everybody nor could they afford to be
sentimental. In his eyes, a building was bound to be just a
building—bricks and mortar and no more. It was a good job Brianna
wasn’t privy to his views on women who chose to stay home to look
after their children, though. She’d have set Harry on him.

A phone rang
somewhere in the living room and Nick excused himself, giving her
the opportunity to get out of bed, race to the bathroom to brush
her teeth with her finger, and run a comb through her bedraggled
locks.

Thankfully
she’d found a pair of dark glasses to don for the ride home but
when they pulled up outside Riverside Apartments, Nick took them
off her. “You’ve got beautiful eyes; don’t hide them,” he
murmured.

Jess blushed,
beginning to make a joke about how bloodshot they were but he
silenced her with a kiss.

“I’d like to
see you again,” he said, coming up for air.

“I’d like that
too.”

“I’ve got
business down in Kerry over the weekend and then I’ll be tied up
for Monday and Tuesday dealing with this community centre crap but
things should be settling down mid-week. How about giving me a
chance to show off my culinary prowess on, say, Wednesday
night?”

He wanted to
cook her dinner despite her having black teeth on their first date,
falling asleep just before a crucial moment on their second date,
not to mention exposing her support knickers and waking up looking
like Morticia Addams with red hair! “That would be lovely,” Jess
breathed, getting out of the car and watching as it sped off down
the Quays, a sleek grey bullet weaving its way through the morning
traffic.

She was walking
on air as she made her way across the courtyard to her building,
not even minding when a familiar voice said, “Oi, love, you’re
looking a bit rough on it this morning.”

“Oh my God,
Brie, he wants to cook me dinner! Even after the horrific
impression I must have made. Can you believe it—I’ve met a man who
actually cooks?” Jess shrieked down the phone. She had perked right
up after having stood under her shower for fifteen minutes,
allowing the pounding water to ease the pounding in her head. “I
have never had a boyfriend who could cook, not ever.” Of course she
couldn’t count the meal she’d enjoyed at Owen’s because he wasn’t
her boyfriend. That was different, she assured herself. Besides, it
wasn’t as though he had had any choice in the matter. He was hardly
going to let her starve and it wasn’t as though there was a
McDonald’s just down the road.

“This Nick does
sound pretty special from what you’ve told me. I can’t wait to meet
him.”

“You’ll love
him,” Jess gushed, though even as the words tripped from her
tongue, she wasn’t sure Brianna would be smitten, especially not if
they got onto the subject of the desperate housewives holding up
his purchase of their local community centre. It was all a bit too
close to home and exactly the kind of cause Brianna liked getting
behind.

“Hey, wouldn’t
it be great if you and Nora have both met your soul mates at long
last! Ooh, you could have a double wedding and I could be
bridesmaid or because I am married, do I have to be a matron of
honour?”

“Brie, you’re
getting way ahead of yourself. I haven’t even had sex with the man
yet.”

“No but you
would have if you hadn’t passed out.”

“It sounds
terrible when you say it like that.”

The two women
burbled on, happily discussing Nora and her death-defying
activities all in the name of love, the latest Harry misdemeanour
(he had laddered his mother’s new tights to dress up as Superman,
to which Jess had consoled Brianna by saying that it could have
been worse—he could have been dressing up as Wonder Woman) until
eventually the conversation veered its way around to Jess’s
spontaneous trip to the North.

“Believe it or
not, I have never been across the border,” Brianna said. “From what
I’ve seen on the telly, it’s like it’s another country—you know,
with the different currency, the British shops, and all those
murals and flags everywhere.”

“I didn’t see
too much of that side of things because you were bang-on about the
bus. It more or less took the back roads all the way to
Ballymcguinness. It was a complete nightmare.”

Jess filled
Brianna in on Leery Len to shrieks of laughter before moving on to
Owen.

“Oh, that poor
man and his family; it’s just so sad.” Brianna sniffed. “I don’t
suppose it’s the type of thing you ever really get over, either. I
wonder if that’s why his marriage broke down; maybe he’s never
dealt with his grief properly because men don’t talk about things
like we do. They bottle it all up.”

“No, to be
honest, Brie, I think it was more likely his wife left him because
he’s a right moody bugger. One minute he’s Mr Charming the next
he’s Mr Surly. If I had the space, I’d go for custody of
Wilbur.”

“Jess, you’re
terrible! Give the man a break; he’s had a terrible time of it. You
and I can’t even begin to imagine what him and his family went…oh
crap, is that the time? I have to run. I’ve got a meeting I have to
get to. Sorry to rush off on you, babe. Ciao.”

“No probs. I
need to get on with some actual writing and not talking
anyway.”

As soon as Jess
put the phone down, it rang again.

She answered it
to hear Nora’s harried voice. “It’s me, sweets—tell all but try to
tell all in five minutes because Ewan’s taking me waterskiing and
we’re leaving in ten.”

“
Good God, Nora! It is frigging freezing
outside today! And you hate getting wet.” Jess was taken aback
because her friend was definitely a lounge around poolside in her
bikini girl who didn’t even like to dip a toe in to test the water.
Nope, the red swimsuit
Baywatch
run was definitely not for the Nora she knew and
loved.

“It’s not cold
in the South of France and who knows? I might enjoy waterskiing.”
She did not sound convinced. “Anyway, I didn’t phone you to talk
about me. Come on, dish the goodies.”

Jess gave a
much-edited version of her antics the night before, knowing that
Nora would be nowhere near as sympathetic as Brianna had been about
the whole hideous undies, falling asleep debacle.

“Okay, so let
me get this straight—you didn’t have sex?”

“No, we were,
uh, um, I actually I decided I wasn’t ready so we just cuddled. He
was a perfect gentleman.”

“Jessica,
Jessica, Jessica,” Nora tutted down the line and Jess didn’t need
to see her to know she would be shaking her head. “Come on, it’s me
Nora you’re talking to. You crashed out, didn’t you? Mouth wide
open, whole nine yards, full monty, dribbling crashed out.” There
was more tutting.

“Yeah.” Jess
sighed, knowing the game was up. “How did you guess?”

“Like I said,
it’s me you’re talking to. Firstly, you never do well when you mix
your drinks and secondly, since when have you ever not been ready
when a gorgeous man happens along and you’ve had a skin full?”

Jess wasn’t
sure she liked this summarising of her behaviour, even if it was
true.

“Oh my God, he
didn’t see your un—”

Jess was saved
by the bell.

“Listen, Ewan’s
here so I’ve got to go but before I do, I have two words for
you.”

“What?”

“Lingerie and
redemption. For God’s sake, woman, go get yourself some decent
underwear before your next date!”

Jess hung up
the phone. She supposed Nora was right. Her Mum hadn’t sent her any
decent, saucy sets in ages. She seemed to have decided her daughter
was a bit of a lost cause in that respect, especially if the
slippers were anything to go by.

Moseying into
the kitchen, she eyed her cupboards hopefully, deciding she needed
something starchy and full of carbs before she could even think
about doing any work. Opening the doors of the pantry, she surveyed
the shelves hopefully. She’d done a Tesco’s run last week, so she
had plenty of food in. On closer inspection, though, it was all
food that involved some sort of preparation on her part—be it
adding milk to it or and this was definitely a no-goer—actually
cooking. Frowning, she put the can of lentils back on the shelf and
headed over to the fridge instead. Hmm…cheese, yogurt, some token
carrots and broccoli—no, there was nothing else for it, she
decided, slamming the fridge door shut. She’d have to hit
McDonald’s. Putting her laptop into its carry case and grabbing her
purse, she headed out the door.

***

“Eat yer
fecking fries!”

Jess had gotten
so lost in her work that she had forgotten where she was: the Mary
Street McDonald’s. Across from her sat a girl with stringy bleached
hair, hardly old enough to be out of nappies herself. She was
holding out a packet of French fries to a little boy perched in a
high chair. He had a nose that was desperately in need of blowing
and was far more interested in bashing the plastic toy that had
come with his Happy Meal than eating his fries. The girl turned her
pointy featured gaze toward Jess, who quickly looked away, not
wanting her to give her the opportunity to ask, “What the feck are
youse looking at?”

Sitting on top
of her table were the bedraggled remains of a few stray pieces of
lettuce, along with two empty Big Mac boxes. Jess sighed and looked
at the two crumpled pieces of cardboard. It was another
misdemeanour that she wouldn’t be willingly sharing with Nora.
Turning her attention back to her laptop, she decided to email what
she had just typed off to Owen. She’d written it from the heart and
she hoped he would realise that when he read through it. Typing a
quick message inquiring as to Wilbur’s health, she attached her
article and hit Send. Closing down her laptop, she decided it was
time to head home but maybe she’d just grab a large fries
first.

***

As Jess
sprawled sloth-like on the settee later that evening, she had two
phone calls. The first was from Marian, who was telephoning on the
pretext of giving her daughter a general update as to how everyone
was at home. Once they’d established that everybody was fine and
that Kelly and the Martian were going at it like rabbits (to which
Jess had made gagging noises) in their efforts to conceive, she’d
moved swiftly onto the business at hand. The real reason behind her
phone call was to interrogate her eldest daughter as to how her
date had gone.

“Did he pick
you up in that sports car of his?”

“Yes, Mum.”

“Did he hold
the car door open for you like a proper gentleman?”

“Yes, Mum.”

“Frank, he has
good manners! He didn’t drive like a maniac, I hope? Honestly, some
of the teenagers your Dad and I see hooning around the
neighbourhood now in their zoop-zoop cars are just accidents
waiting to happen. Most of them can’t even see over the steering
wheel. It’s ridiculous letting kids have cars like that, isn’t it,
Frank?”

“No, Mum, he
stuck to the speed limit. It’s pretty impossible not to; the
traffic is nightmarish in central Dublin and besides, he isn’t a
teenager.”

“What did you
wear in the end?” She moved swiftly on.

“You’ll be
pleased to know I didn’t wear my Anne Klein. I borrowed a lovely
little black dress with a cream bodice from Nora. She gave it her
stamp of approval and she is dating a movie star, Mum, so she knows
her stuff.”