Second Hand Jane (7 page)

Actually, she
mused as Miguel held her seat out for her at their table that
overlooked lively Harcourt Street below, the whole being famous
thing—while having obvious perks like fabulous seats in fabulous
restaurants—was also kind of annoying. No sooner did Ewan attempt
to start up a conversation than some stranger would butt in, asking
for an autograph. People seemed to think that because his face was
familiar it gave them the right to be pushy—especially the women.
Still, underneath Nora’s fluffy blonde exterior and white silk
sheath dress lurked a woman with the strength of King Kong, so if
things were to get serious between her and Ewan, his female fans
would have to watch out.

No, fame
certainly wasn’t something she hankered after, she thought as
Miguel made a show of flapping the crisp white linen napkin before
draping it across her lap. At least with writing she got to retain
a certain amount of anonymity because while people often looked
twice at her, they didn’t usually twig that they recognised her
from the passport-sized photo featured alongside her column. Though
Nora would beg to differ; she maintained that the reason people
looked twice at Jess was more to do with what she deemed her
friend’s bizarre choice of clothing.

Once the others
were seated, she turned her attention from the window back to Nick,
who was telling her he did something or other in property and that
he had known Ewan since school. The convertible had been his, so
whatever it was he did with property he obviously did well, she
concluded, feeling slightly ashamed of how easily impressed she
was.

Now though, as
he smiled across at her, she couldn’t help but notice that as well
as driving a fancy car, his eyes were impossibly blue against the
tan of his skin and blonde, stylishly cropped hair. Very Pierce
Brosnan in his younger days but with blonde hair cut into a much
better style. Oh my gosh, she thought, grinning inanely back at him
and admiring the pearliness of his perfect teeth—my mother would
absolutely love you!—and wondering at the same time whether he’d
mind whether she whipped her cell-phone out and took a photo as
proof that she was on a date with a man who so far appeared to have
no underlying issues and was obviously successful.

At that moment,
she received a sharp kick to the ankle and biting her lip, managed
to stop herself from crying out. Bloody Nora, she swore silently
but nevertheless took her friend’s hint and wiped the sappy look
off her face.

“So tell me
about you, Jessica.” Nick leaned forward, toying with his empty
wine glass as they waited for Miguel to come back with the bottle
of red they’d all agreed on. “Although, I have to say that having
laughed out loud at your column many times, I can’t help but feel
like I already know you.”

Jess preened
ever so slightly; he had just scored some major brownie points
because she loved it when a man took the time to ask about her
instead of banging on about his achievements all night. “Ah, well,
don’t believe all that you read.”

“
I’ll vouch for that.” Ewan joined in the
conversation. “My agent showed me an article in some woman’s
magazine the other week that strongly implied I might be the one to
heal Demi’s broken heart. All I bloody did was shake her hand when
I was introduced to her at Cannes. The woman terrifies me. I was
still in short pants when she did
Ghost
, for Chrissakes!”

They all
laughed and after Ewan had sampled and approved the wine, much to
Miguel’s obvious relief, an animated conversation about the media
ensued.

Jess had just
finished relaying her tale of how her column came to fruition
thanks to Shane Moriarty from Bad Boyz milking his new-found fame
when Miguel magically popped up again. This time, he had his pad
and paper in hand, ready to take their order. Nora opened the menu
and Jess leaned in to read it as Nick announced that the paella was
absolutely fantastic. The menu was snapped shut and it was agreed
that they would all share in a plate of Spain’s national dish.

“Teez a good
choice, Meester Reid,” Miguel gushed before giving a little bow and
scurrying off toward the kitchen to click his fingers and tell the
chef to snap to it.

That was
another thing Jessica was noticing about the power of celebrity: it
was as though Ewan were the only person seated at the table the way
Miguel addressed everything to him. The rest of their little group
was all but invisible.

As Nora and
Ewan embarked on a conversation about paragliding, Nick refilled
Jess’s wine glass. “So what made you leave New Zealand? It’s a
stunning country.”

“
Have you been?” She was surprised; most
Irish only got as far as Australia, arriving at Sydney Airport with
their passports and dream that life from hereon in was going to be
like one big scene from
Home and Away
. Not many jumped the ditch to New Zealand. Mind you, Nick
didn’t look like the kind of man who’d watch
Home and Away
or
Neighbours
.

“To Auckland on
business, yes, but I managed to get up to the Bay of Islands for a
few days R&R before I had to fly home. The fishing was
fantastic and I’d liked to have stayed longer and seen more—you
know, catch the big one that got away.” He grinned and shrugged.
“I’ll definitely get back there in the near future, though.”

Jess had no
doubt that when he said something, he meant it but his words had
seemed to hold an unspoken invitation and she felt herself grow
hot. Knocking back her wine to cool down, she told herself off for
always reading something into what was probably nothing. She’d only
known him for an hour, for goodness’ sake! Placing her glass back
down on the table, she hoped he didn’t think her a lush and then
realising he was waiting for some sort of reply, the best she could
come up with at short notice was, “Yes, it is beautiful.” Risking a
glance over at him, their eyes locked and the jolt of excitement
that ricocheted through her literally made her catch her breath. It
was either that or the wine had gone down the wrong way. Either
way, the moment was ruined as she began coughing and spluttering,
sending a spray of red wine across the table. Nora, thinking she
was choking, leaped out of her seat and began walloping her on the
back, which only made her cough harder.

It was then
that Miguel appeared and excitedly told Nora to stand aside as he
announced loudly and proudly, “I will perform ze Hymen
Manoeuvre.”

Thanks be to
God he didn’t get a chance to perform anything on her! Jess
thought, because after a sip of the glass of water Nick was holding
to her lips, the coughing subsided. By the time the steaming pan of
rice and seafood appeared to take centre stage at their table, she
had managed to regain her composure—well, almost.

By the time the third bottle of wine was
opened, she, too, could see the funny side of Miguel and his
“hymen” manoeuvre and she found herself relaxing and enjoying Nick
and Ewan’s company, though she did wish Nora would stop going on
like she was the stunt woman out of the
Matrix
.

From there on
in, the evening passed in a jovial wine-addled blur and before they
knew it, they were the last patrons in the restaurant. It was time
to go but not before they’d given Miguel a generous tip. As they
led the way down the stairs and out the doors to the car park, Nick
made one last joke about Miguel’s Spanish accent and as she laughed
the darkness in front of her was suddenly split by blinding flashes
of light. She felt her mouth form a startled “Oh!” as Nick took her
by the elbow and herded her over to the car.

“Who’s the
mystery blonde, Ewan! Does Tessa know you’ve called it quits?”
Several different voices called and by way of reply Ewan growled,
“Fecking paparazzi!” as he and Nora ducked inside the little car
just as Nick began revving the engine. They exited the car park in
a blaze of burning rubber.

“It’s okay,
Nick, man; slow down—nobody’s following us,” Ewan urged a moment
later. “I’m sorry about that, ladies. The fecking pap get
everywhere.” He had turned around in his seat but he only had eyes
for Nora as he added, “And Tessa and I broke up amicably aeons
ago.”

He was referring to his stunning
Suburban Man
co-star Tessa Adamson. Jess
felt Nora relax next to her as she reached over and stroked his
arm. Her eyes, in the darkened interior, were still glittering from
the adrenaline rush of what had just happened and Jess had to
concur that it had been rather exciting. She could see how the
novelty would soon wear off if it happened every time you went
anywhere, though. Imagine being photographed doing something as
mundane as going to the corner shop for your morning paper or just
collecting your post? A mental picture of herself in the elephant
suit with pink slippers gracing the cover of
The Women’s Friend
sprang to mind and she
shuddered, pushing it aside.

Nick proved to
be the perfect gentleman when they pulled up outside Riverside
Apartments five minutes later. He got out of the car and, opening
her door, helped her out before walking her to the main doors.
While she fished around in her purse for her keys, he told her that
he had really enjoyed the evening. “I’d like to do it again
sometime.” He looked at her expectantly.

“So would I.”
She blushed, all too aware that Nora would be sitting in the car
with her face pressed up to the window, phone at the ready to text
Brianna should there be snogging.

“So it’s okay
if I get your number off Nora and give you a call?”

“Yes, I’d like
that.”

“Great.” Nick
leaned in and she felt his lips airbrush hers before he stepped
back, waiting for her to head inside. It was all she could do not
to drag him in behind her.

The phone
trilled bright and early the next morning—ridiculously early for a
Saturday, in Jess’s opinion—but nevertheless she forced herself to
get out of bed and stumbled through to the living room to answer
it.

“Hi, honey,
it’s Brie—okay if Harry and I pop round shortly? Because there’s
something I think you need to see.”

Jess’s brain
gave itself a feeble kickstart. Bloody Brianna—what was she doing
phoning at such a godforsaken time of the morning? Honestly, just
because Harry always ensured she was up at sparrow’s fart didn’t
mean everybody else had to be. “What’s so important you’re ringing
me at the crack of dawn then?”

“It’s actually
after eight but never mind that. I will show you what it’s all
about when I get there.”

“I thought you
had your Save our Playgroup meeting this morning?”

“I did but I
cancelled. See you in an hour.”

She’d hung up
before Jess had a chance to quiz her further and wide awake now,
she padded through to the kitchen, puzzling over what it was she
wanted to show her. Whatever it was, it had sounded like something
worthy of an extra strong caffeine fix, especially if Brianna was
missing one of her meetings in order to pop over.

***

It was
something worthy of a triple shot of vodka but Jess didn’t drink in
the morning. “Sweet Mary, Mother of Jesus!” After nigh on ten years
living in Ireland, she had at last grasped the lingo. She
screeched, staring in horror at the open newspaper Brianna was
holding up under her nose. All the while, Harry puff-puff-puffed
his Thomas train up and down her kitchen tiles.

“You’re not
allowed to say that!” His five-year-old voice was outraged.

“You’re
entitled to sweets under the circumstances. Don’t mind Harry; he’s
just begun religious instruction at school. Ignore him. I do.”
Brianna shot her son a look that would silence the most evangelical
of preachers.

Jess’s own face loomed back at her from
the
Dublin
Central
newspaper’s
weekend colour celebrity supplement.

“It’s not that
bad, really,” Brianna lied. “And your dress is gorgeous. It’s a
lovely one of Nora, though, don’t you think?” she finished rather
lamely.

“
I don’t care what bloody Nora looks like
and it
is
that bad.
Nobody will give a rat’s arse about my dress either because they’ll
be too busy laughing at my teeth—God! How will I ever show my face
in public again?”

There were more
shocked noises emanating from the kitchen but Harry wisely kept his
thoughts on blasphemy and swearing to himself this time round.

“Ah, nobody
will notice except your nearest and dearest like me and Nora. The
general public will be far too busy wondering who it is Ewan Reid’s
dating now to wonder who your woman with the bad teeth is. I mean,
look at the heading—‘Ewan’s Reid’s Mystery Blonde.’ There’s no
mention of you or your man—Nick, was it? He looks tasty, by the
way.”

“He was and
there weren’t a pair of handcuffs lurking in his back seat nor did
he have a nervous disposition due to some trauma or other—not that
he’ll ever want to see me again, not after this.” Jess stabbed at
the photo depicting the foursome leaving Juan’s the night before.
The photographer had caught her with her gob hanging open
gormlessly as she laughed in what she had thought was a coquettish
way at Nick’s little joke. Nora and Ewan, looking glamorously
furtive, were bringing up the rear. Ordinarily, she’d have been
quite chuffed to have made the celebrity pages but not with the
dodgy set of gnashers she was flashing in the photo.

From over her
shoulder, a little voice chirruped, “Aunty Jess, you are supposed
to brush your teeth in the morning and before you go to bed. Mummy
sings the ‘Happy Birthday’ song and I am not allowed to stop until
she’s finished.”