Second Hand Jane (24 page)

“Well, as soon
as he gets back, you come clean.” Jess wagged a finger at her.

“What do I say,
though? Ewan’s said all along how great it is that he has finally
met a girl who is into all the same stuff as him. If I tell him I’m
not who he thinks I am, he is bound to give me the flick. He’ll
think I’m just as fickle as those fans of his who send through
pictures of themselves in the nude all the time.”

“Women do
that?” Brianna asked, frowning.

“And men.”

Jess raised an
eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yep, really.
Honestly, you two have no idea what celebrities have to put up
with.”

No, Jess
thought to herself, she obviously didn’t and the taste tester she
had experienced of life in the limelight—finding an unflattering
photo of herself plastered in the papers—had left her cold.

“You don’t know
that he’ll think you’re fickle,” Brianna said, earnestly tucking
her bobbed hair behind one ear. “Tell him that you’ve decided
adventures sports just aren’t for you after all but that you are
happy to be his cheerleader. If he is as keen on you as you are on
him, he will understand.”

“I hope so
because I have never felt this way before about anyone and girls, I
am absolutely bloody terrified I’ll lose him.” Nora sniffed, her
eyes filling.

Brianna pulled
a tissue out from her sleeve and handed it to Nora. “It’s clean, I
promise. If he’s a keeper, you won’t lose him. Have a bit of faith
in him,” she advised wisely as both she and Jess got up and wrapped
their arms round their friend. When they broke away, she blew her
nose and managed a small grin before draining her glass with a
slurp. “Anymore wine going?”

“So how did
your protest go, Brie?” Jess asked as she filled Nora’s glass and
sat back down.

Brianna bought
Nora up to speed with the play group she was so passionate should
stay and her ties to it with Harry having gone to it twice weekly
as a tot.

“You really are
a sucker for a good cause.” Nora shook her head. “Dublin’s
down-and-out would be lost without you.”

“I would hardly
call a group of mammies passionate about their community having a
centre where their children can meet to play ‘Dublin’s
down-and-out,’ Nora.” Brianna was indignant.

For Jess,
however, as Brianna mentioned “a group of mothers” in the same
sentence as “community centre,” the penny had at last dropped.
Gosh, she could be so thick, she thought, tipping her wine down her
throat. Hang on, though, perhaps the group of mothers about which
Nick had been so derisive were nothing to do with Brie and her band
of merry mammies? Then again, what were the odds of more than one
group of mums up in arms over the demolition of a building in a
city the size of Dublin anyway?

“Er, Brie, what
building is it that you’re trying to save?”

“The Bray
Community Centre. I thought I’d told you that?”

“Um, no, you
didn’t, actually.”

“Ah, well, no
matter.” She shook her head, her face growing animated as she began
to relay the latest. “The protest went really well. RTÉ even showed
up with their cameras rolling. The infuriating thing is that the
company behind the proposed project refused to meet with us. Bloody
cowards, whoever they are. All they care about is money. I tell
you, girls, they march in and destroy the lifeblood of small
communities but I’m not going to let them destroy mine!”

Nora clapped
her hands and drawled in an American accent, “You go, girl!”

Oh dear,
thought Jess; now was not the time to mention the fact that she was
ninety-nine percent certain the cowardly company Brianna was on
about belonged to Nick. She already seemed to have made up her mind
that he wasn’t right for her and revealing that it was him behind
her latest cause’s proposed demolition would definitely not endear
him to her. She decided she’d keep quiet about it for now and see
how her date went tomorrow night. If they got on well and decided
to see each other again as she hoped would be the case, then she’d
have to come clean and tell Brianna. It would be up to her then as
to whether she still wanted to have them both round for dinner.

For some
reason, Owen’s face floated before her but she batted him away,
having a sneaky scoop of the cheese ball instead while Nora was
fossicking in the fridge for further supplies.

They had broken
out the chocolate and were cracking open the third bottle of vino
when Brianna piped up with, “That Nick chap you set Jess up with is
cooking her dinner tomorrow night.”

Bugger, Jess
thought; she’d wanted to steer clear of any conversation regarding
Nick.

“Whaat! When
did that happen?”

“He invited me
over when he dropped me home last week.”

“But you didn’t
tell me that when I rung you. I thought you’d never hear from him
again after your Oscar-winning ‘Drunk Woman’ performance.” Nora
looked most put out.

“Well, you
didn’t exactly give me a chance to tell you, did you? You were too
busy issuing orders about my needing to upgrade my knickers and
before you ask, for your information, I have done so.”

When Pete
arrived to pick his wife and Nora up shortly after eleven after a
hard night bashing a little black ball around a court, he looked
perturbed when Jess answered the door. He didn’t like to ask why
she had a pair of lacy green knickers on her head nor why Nora was
taking aim at his wife with the matching bra.

***

Jess woke the
next morning with the nagging headache that signified she probably
shouldn’t have had that last glass of wine last night. Oh well, she
thought, squinting and sitting up; it had been fun, and she and
Brianna had successfully completed their mission, which was to get
their friend laughing again. Besides, she decided, shrugging into
her dressing gown and padding through to the kitchen, the headache
was nothing that poached eggs on toast and a good strong cup of
coffee wouldn’t fix.

She spent her
morning finishing her column for the week. Her inspiration this
week had come from last night’s girly get-together. It had been
brewing since her encounter with the snooty shop assistant from the
haute couture shops she had ventured into with Brianna and been
cemented by the lass on the checkout at Tesco’s the day before.
She’d decided to write about the unspoken and universal language
that existed between women and how some women were part of the
sisterhood and some definitely weren’t.

Having emailed
her final draft off to Niall, she was debating whether beans on
toast was a good idea for lunch or whether she might be better
going for something like a chicken wrap from the Spar shop down the
road when the phone rang. It was Nick.

The
conversation was short and sweet as he was on his way to a meeting.
Jess crossed her fingers and hoped it wasn’t over in Bray. He told
her he would swing by around seven thirty to pick her up. She’d
hung up thinking he had sounded very masterful and she’d felt her
stomach knot in excitement at the thought of the night to come.

For once she
didn’t have to spend hours agonising over what to wear because Nora
had taken it upon herself the night before to choose what outfit
she should wear. “You need to dress to impress for a man like Nick
because Ewan told me he usually dates model types,” she’d declared
knowledgably as she hauled a cream sixties swing dress out of
Jess’s wardrobe. “This, girlfriend, is the perfect dress for
in-home dining.” Handing it to Jess, she disappeared back into the
wardrobe again, reappearing a few moments later looking like the
cat that got the cream as she held up a pair of matching heels.
“Wear your hair down,” she ordered bossily before picking up Jess’s
new bra and pinging it across the room at her.

Nick was
fifteen minutes late and Jess had just finished re-checking her
makeup in her powder compact for the third time since she’d plonked
her bottom down on the cold vinyl in Riverside’s foyer. She jiggled
her crossed legs in an effort to stop thinking about the fact she
needed the loo and to prevent the bare backs of her thighs from
sticking to the seat. Brianna always said she had a Woolworths
bladder but this was down to nerves, Jess thought, peering out into
the dark for any sign of slowing headlights. She was loath to wait
outside on the street for him and not just because of the nip in
the air but because the last time she had loitered out there
waiting for a ride, a passing Japanese tourist had said, “Kon niche
wa—how much?”

Taking a deep
breath in order to calm the butterflies, Jess glanced down at her
dress. At least she knew she looked good. She sent Nora a mental
ten out of ten for choice of outfit because as she had tottered
past in her cream heels, Puff the Magic Dragon had just about
fallen out the window between drags. She’d also bumped into Gemma
from across the hall for the first time in ages. Dressed as per
usual in head-to-toe skin-tight black and clutching a water bottle,
she was of course coming back from a workout.

“Jess—wow! You
look fantastic. Have you got a hot date?” She’d winked but then
she’d ruined it by going on at her about joining her down at the
gym again.

No chance,
thought Jess, wondering whether Gemma was on some sort of
commission. Perhaps she got free membership if she managed to
recruit new members. Jess’s musing as to Gemma’s motivations were
interrupted by a toot. Nick was outside. As she pulled open the
heavy doors, the sounds of Justin Timberlake emanated forth. She
ran over to the car and as she climbed into the seat next to him,
her heart skipped a beat. He looked gorgeous in a crisp white shirt
and jeans, his hair still wet from a shower. He turned the music
down and as he leaned toward her, she caught a whiff of that same
delicious aftershave before she lost herself in the kiss that
followed.

It wasn’t until
a group of lads walking up the Quays began calling out, “Whoa! Go
on, get in there, mate!” that they broke apart. Nick grinned
cheekily at her before revving the engine and expertly weaving the
car out into the evening traffic.

“I’m sorry.
This has never happened to me before.” Nick lifted the bed covers
and gazed dolefully at the culprit.

It’s never
happened to me before either, she thought. Jess felt as deflated as
Nick’s partner in crime. It happened—she knew that, of course—but
why did it have to happen to her tonight? “It’s okay,” she
lied.

“It’s not you,
Jessica; it’s me.”

My God, all
these clichés, Jess thought. “It happens. Don’t worry about
it—truly, Nick, it’s fine.”

“Not to me it
doesn’t. It’s the stress of this bloody community centre
business.”

“It’s not going
well then?” Jess squeaked, feeling like Judas knowing what she now
knew.

“No, it’s not.
This bunch of hormonal homemakers is holding everything up with
their whingeing to the Council. They have no idea about the real
world or how much money is riding on this thing.”

Jess felt her
face heat up and was glad that the room was dimly lit. He would not
be impressed if he knew that one of the hormonal homemakers to
which he referred was her best friend and actually, she thought,
she didn’t particularly care for the vehemence in his tone.

They lay side
by side in his Californian King-sized bed under crisp white sheets,
their heads resting on the twin pillows. At that moment in time,
Jess wished she still smoked; it would have given her something to
occupy herself with instead of lying next to him in an awkward
silence.

The evening had
started off so well too, she thought, closing her eyes and wishing
herself away. When they’d arrived back at Nick’s, he’d unlocked the
front door and she had been assailed by a delicious smell that
she’d pinpointed after several discreet sniffs as rosemary and
roasting lamb. Yum—lamb was her favourite and her mouth had watered
as she decided that Nick was definitely a smooth operator. Sitting
on his designer white couch, she watched him set the scene by
lighting candles and putting a CD on his stereo.

He disappeared
into the kitchen and reappeared with two balloon-like wine glasses,
a rich red liquid swimming well under halfway in each of them.
Accepting the glass, she took a tentative sip. It was delicious and
she made a mental vow not to knock it back—she didn’t need to go
down the blackened teeth road again.

“Do you like
it?”

“I do. It’s
very, um, full-bodied.” She hoped that didn’t sound like a hair
advertisement.

“A bold, meaty
red is how it was described to me. I bought it from a boutique
vineyard in Mendoza, Argentina. The Argentines are voracious meat
eaters and the owner assured me that it is the perfect
accompaniment to roasted meat. I hope you like lamb?” he’d asked,
sitting down next to her. His thigh brushed hers.

“I come from a
country where the sheep outnumber the people, so yes, I like lamb.”
She’d smiled. In the background, his state-of-the-art stereo began
crooning something low and throaty. Norah Jones perhaps? Jess
wondered, trying to distract herself from the warm pressure of his
leg next to hers.

“Did I tell you
how lovely you look tonight?” Nick murmured, taking her glass out
of her hand and placing it on the glass-topped table in front of
them. “That’s a beautiful dress.”

Jess sent a
telepathic thank-you to Nora and felt a shiver of anticipation as
he moved toward her. She felt as if she were starring in a
seduction scene from a movie and she definitely hoped it would
venture into the realms of the pornographic before the night
ended.

He was such a
good kisser; closing her eyes and leaning into him, she allowed
herself to relax and enjoy the sensation of his body next to hers.
His hands began to roam freely and she quivered involuntarily as he
reached her breasts, stroking them gently through the sheer fabric
of her dress. He’d pulled away then, leaving her feeling slightly
bereft as he got up to tend to the meat.