Chapter 10
10
KARA
As Kara opened the door to her flat, she noticed that her hands were still trembling. She didn’t know if it was from adrenaline, devastation or sheer bloody fury. Josh. Her erstwhile fiancé. Still siding with Corbin Jacobs. Even after everything that had happened. And somehow – some- fricking -how – he obviously expected her to understand that decision.
As soon as they’d locked eyes in the HR reception, she’d frozen, her brain shutting down the ability to move, think or speak for a couple of seconds, until he’d stepped forward, ‘Kara, can I talk to you?’
The sound of his voice had been enough to snap her out of her comatose state. ‘No.’
Her gaze had shifted to Corbin Jacobs, who, despite looking like a casualty from the alien invasion dream scene they’d done on the show a couple of months ago, was eyeing her with an expression that sat somewhere between smugness and disgust. Before Kara could act on her urge to take Tress’s advice and stand on his other foot, Abigail Dunlop had emerged from her office. ‘Corbin, Josh – we’re ready for you.’
That had been the moment of truth – would Josh go in there with them or continue trying to speak to her? She hadn’t waited to find out. Her racing heart had been about to explode, so instead, she’d charged right past them and then bolted down the corridor, out of the door and into her car.
Now that she was back at the home she’d shared with Josh, she fired a quick text off to Tress.
Sorry I ran out on you. Thanks so much for being my wing-woman today. Xx
The reply was immediate.
No worries. I’m 100% on your side. If I can do anything to help, please holler. Xx PS: Josh was with Corbin? I’m so sorry. I hope you’re okay.
Everyone in the studio would be talking about this by now. Kara has a stand-up fight with Corbin, and her fiancé was still all chummy with him, business as normal. Tress, a work friend who had only just learned the details of the story, was supporting her, yet her boyfriend of eight years couldn’t do the same thing? Her hands began to shake a little more. Fury. Definitely sheer bloody fury.
And sadness too, as she scanned the flat that had been her home for the last seven years. Josh had already owned this place when they’d met and Kara was sharing a different flat with Drea, so it had made sense that she moved in here after a year or so of dating. At the start, there had been vague plans to look for something else that would be a joint investment, but somehow they’d never got round to it, because Josh hadn’t wanted to leave here. Not that she’d minded, because she’d loved this place. She just wished she’d considered that after paying half of everything for all this time she was going to walk away with nothing except a broken heart and a whole pile of sorrow.
A huge sob of grief began to rise up in her throat and she swallowed it back. No. She wasn’t going to fall apart here. Right now, she was going to gather her stuff together while Josh was at the studio, get out of here, and then schedule falling apart for when she was surrounded by people she loved and wine.
She crossed the deep walnut floor towards their bedroom, stopping at the doorway because it was right next to the sideboard in the living room that held pictures of all the special moments in their lives. The two of them on a beach in Kos, when he told her he was in love with her for the first time. The night they got engaged, sitting on the end of a pier, their feet dangling over the waters of Loch Lomond. And there were family pics too. Josh’s clan, at his thirtieth birthday, when they’d rented log cabins in the Highlands and partied for the whole weekend. They’d thought about getting married the same way, but she hadn’t wanted to withdraw from the joint wedding pact with Drea. Josh’s mother hated to fly, so his family had been totally accepting of their decision to do a private destination wedding by themselves, on the promise that they’d have a huge celebration in the next couple of months back here. Hopefully no one had splashed out on their party frocks yet.
Her gaze landed on another picture, right at the back – Kara, Drea and Jacinta, with Ollie and his mum, Moira, all posing outside the Shaftesbury Theatre in London, brimming with excitement to see Flashdance . She must have been about sixteen, but she remembered every detail of it, because it was Moira’s last trip with them before she’d gone to work on the cruise ships. Ollie had grown about six inches that year and somehow his baby face had morphed into a level of handsomeness that shouldn’t be allowed. They’d had the best time, laughed all weekend, and for about five seconds, as Ollie slung his arm around her coming out of the theatre, Kara had experienced a flutter of attraction to him, that she’d rapidly brushed off and refused to consider ever again, which was just as well, because only a few months later, he’d gone to London, the first of many trips away that would eventually, years later, lead him to New York and Sienna.
Snatching the picture up, she carried it into her bedroom. Her former bedroom. None of this was hers now. Nothing. Their bedroom had always been her happy place, the one room in the home that she’d decorated. The rest of the flat was all dark wood floors and white walls, with tasteful art and neutral furniture, but not in here. The walls were a calming ivory, and the bed linen was her favourite shade of yellow, with mint-coloured cushions and a matching throw draped across the bottom. The floors were a light oak, and the windows were dressed in voile that let the sun stream through on the occasions it actually shone in the city. Luckily, there were no neighbouring windows with an eyeline to the room, or they’d have had the pleasure of watching her wrangle into her Spanx every morning.
Under the window was her favourite thing of all – her old desk, the one that had got her through art school and that she’d used almost every day since. It was a kaleidoscope of colour charts, fabric swatches and sketches. At night, she would sit there, designing, drawing, planning out her concepts for upcoming shows. With a soap like The Clydeside , set in a fictional Scottish town in the present day, there hadn’t been much of an opportunity to use the more theatrical side of her imagination – other than that one alien invasion scene, but the less said about that the better – but she’d loved her job, nonetheless. Creating a character’s wardrobe was like shaping a part of their personality and she’d relished it and taken huge pride in her attention to detail. Yet, now she was out of the role she’d adored for a decade, all for sticking up for what she thought was right and trying to fight back against the misogynistic attitudes and gargantuan egos that still bubbled under the surface of the industry.
Would she do it again? Absolutely. Although, it might make her feel more reassured that it was worth it if Casey Lowden had been in touch. Not that Kara needed any kind of thank you, but it would be good to know that Casey had her back, just as Kara had hers at the party.
She shrugged that off. No point getting bogged down in what had happened. It was done. All she could do was move forward, get a new job, find somewhere to live, build a whole new life. Starting now.
She grabbed one of Josh’s holdalls from the bottom of his wardrobe and began filling it up with things she’d missed when she’d hastily packed in the early hours of the New Year. The photo she’d taken from the sideboard in the living room went in first, then her jewellery, minus the engagement ring that she’d left on Josh’s bedside table right before she’d walked out. If she sold it, there would be enough for a deposit on a rental flat, but she didn’t want that money, because it would always be a reminder of how the man she was supposed to be able to depend on more than anyone else in the world had let her down.
That night, she’d needed him to do the right thing, but instead, he’d done the wrong thing, because that was the job he was paid to do. He’d gone straight into Mr PR mode, minimising the whole event, then immediately attending to Corbin, trying to calm him down as he was wailing about the damage she’d done to his foot. Josh had got him out of there, asking one of his staff to take him to the ED at Glasgow Central Hospital, and then he’d gone into a huddle with the studio head, Jeremy, discussing the situation and strategising over the next move. They’d even had the absolute mind-blowing audacity to suggest she apologise. That’s when Kara had left. Sad. Hurt. Disgusted. When he’d eventually come home, several hours later, she was already in bed. Fool that she was, she’d expected him to come in and be concerned for her, but no. He was in full-scale PR mode and he’d told her she had to make sure everything was swept under the carpet.
‘No. He’s a horrible perv and I’m not doing it. Josh, I don’t think you understand – he had a hold of her and wouldn’t let go. He was totally harassing her. You know as well as I do that he’s pulled shit like that with other women in the building. And you saw the way he was screaming at me too. What else was I to do?’
The vein in his cheek that always popped up when he was angry had been in full view. ‘Make a complaint. Speak to him in private back at the studio. I don’t know, Kara. But now you’ve caused a public scene that I’m going to have to manage in the media, and they’re going to have to write in a limp for the lead character.’
‘So tell me, since you don’t seem to think that a grown-ass man verbally abusing your fiancée in public is a deal-breaker, what would you have done if it was me that he’d got physical with?’
‘It wasn’t you, though.’
Eyes blazing, she’d refused to back down. ‘Just go with me here. If it were me, the woman you’re marrying next week, and the mighty Corbin bloody Jacobs had a hold of me, despite my objections, would you have wanted me to put up with that or would you have wanted a pal to do whatever she could to get me away from him, even if it caused a bit of a scene?’
To her complete devastation, he hadn’t been able to give the obvious answer. He’d stayed silent, clearly weighing up both sides. The only side should have been hers.
‘Wow,’ she’d said, too hurt to even challenge him.
Josh hadn’t even tried to make it right. ‘Look, we’re not getting anywhere here. I’m going for a shower. We’ll talk about it in the morning.’
An hour later, he was asleep beside her, but she had been awake, staring at the ceiling, letting the truth sink in. He would never defend her. This wasn’t ‘good times and bad’. This was whatever suited him best. Tears had run from the outer corners of her eyes into her hair, as a realisation dawned – she couldn’t marry someone who wasn’t going to be there for her when she needed him. She had no idea where to start, but she knew she couldn’t go to Hawaii with him, couldn’t wear her white dress, couldn’t promise to love him and vow to always stand by him, when he hadn’t stood by her.
She’d quietly slipped out of bed, padded into the huge cupboard in the hall that she used as a wardrobe, packed her biggest suitcase and a black plastic bag with the first things that came to hand, then went into the kitchen and wrote him a note.
I would always have defended you. I want someone who will always defend me too. I can’t marry you. Goodbye, Josh.
Silently sobbing, she’d walked back into the bedroom and left the note and her engagement ring on his bedside table. Then she’d walked right out of their lives together.
Now, as the memory of that night made her chest tighten, she sniffed. Don’t cry. Do. Not. Cry. Keep on packing. Where were the sarongs, the SPF50 and her favourite flip-flops? Got them. Passport? Yep, in the drawer. Sunglasses? The next drawer. One thing at a time. Just keep on packing. Just keep on packing.
‘Please stop packing.’ The voice came from the doorway and made her jump. She hadn’t even heard him come in, too wrapped up in her thoughts.
‘How did you know I was here?’
‘The doorbell app,’ he replied, holding up his phone.
Ah. She’d forgotten about that bloody thing. Traitor.
‘Look, can we talk?’ he went on, and for the first time, she noticed the dark circles under his eyes. Did it make her a horrible person that she was glad he was having sleepless nights too?
‘On behalf of your clients?’ she asked, archly, as she tossed the ESPA skincare set that Drea had bought her for Christmas into the bag. She might have lost everything, but at least she’d be well moisturised.
‘Kara, it’s my job. You know that. I represent both Corbin and the studio – they’re my biggest clients. What was I supposed to do?’
She couldn’t believe she was going to have to spell this out for him yet again. Hadn’t they already covered this on the night it happened? ‘You were supposed to defend me. That’s it.’
‘And lose my clients?’
‘Or lose your fiancée.’
That must have struck home, because, for once, he didn’t seem to have anything more to say. Speechless. Silent. And it was completely out of character.
Josh’s talent for spinning any subject and charming everyone he met made him great at his job, but she’d realised not long after she met him that underneath all that affable professionalism, there was the laser-focused mind of someone who’d grown his company to be one of the largest PR firms in the city, landing a catalogue of impressive clients, including the Clydeside Studio and its flagship TV show. The role of his company was simple – to generate great publicity and squash anything that depicted the studio, the show or its stars in a negative light. He’d gone into full-scale damage limitation mode a couple of years before when one of their biggest names, Rex Marino, had made a complete arse of himself at a public event and been exposed as a serial cheat. And at the same time, he was strategising long into the night to counter the backlash when the show ousted the beloved Odette Devine after forty years in the lead role. In hindsight, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that he was there today with Corbin, because a star being involved in an incident that could reflect badly on him was right in Josh’s wheelhouse.
There was one difference with this situation, though. Usually, it wasn’t down to Josh to make judgements on the situation, just to cover it up or fix it. On Hogmanay, he’d been forced to pick a side and he’d picked the wrong one. Now, she just wanted to get out of here and away from the guy who’d just made it clear that he valued his clients more than he valued her.
The sight of her throwing things in the holdall must have jolted a thought, because he suddenly blurted, ‘So you’re still going then? To Hawaii?’
She nodded. ‘Of course. I’m going to see my sister get married.’
‘You know she cancelled my flight?’ he said. ‘I got the notification yesterday and the refund today.’
‘Makes sense, given that we’re no longer getting married. Unless you were still planning to tag along?’ There was a challenge in her words, and he didn’t meet it.
Instead, the shake of his head gave the answer. ‘No,’ he said.
‘Didn’t think so,’ she retorted. A mixture of anger and anxiety took over and she knew she had to get out of there.
Deciding to leave everything else behind, she grabbed the handles of the holdall, ready to flee.
‘Kara, don’t go. I’m asking you, please. Don’t throw away eight years of our lives. Stay here and work through this.’
‘For the sake of your favourite client or for me?’
‘For us.’
She stared at him for several seconds, before blurting out the thought that was right at the front of her mind. ‘There is no “us”, Josh. You showed me that the other night. Tell me something – did you come straight here after me today, or did you take the meeting with Corbin and HR first and then come here?’
‘Oh for God’s sake…’ he replied, agitated. ‘Look, I had to stay and be professional. I couldn’t just go running out after my girlfriend.’
All she wanted to do was curl into a ball and sob, but she managed to make her voice work. ‘Your ex-fiancée. The one you let down. And you just did it again.’
‘Okay, okay, I get it. At least give me a chance to sort this.’ His voice was raised when he said that, and Kara could tell that he was transitioning along the emotional scale from pleading and semi-remorse to frustration and irritation.
‘Tell me something else, then, Josh – if I agree to stay with you and get married as planned, will you drop the studio and Corbin Jacobs as your clients and stick up for me instead?’
She held her breath. In three days’ time, they had been supposed to make their vows to each other.
‘In sickness and in health.
For richer and poorer.’
She was about to find out if the next line was:
‘Forsaking all others, including corporate clients and misogynistic scumbags.’