CHAPTER TEN
It was nomination day for the Mondays, and Raina was trying to distract herself during a recording of her podcast. She was reading patrons’ names, thanking them for their support, and trying to focus on literally anything other than the announcement.
Pepper was assisting, which wasn’t unusual, and every time she glanced at her phone screen, Raina would throw her a look of silent admonishment.
‘Next week, we want you to write in if you have a great meet-cute story about you and your significant other,’ Raina said into the microphone. ‘Until then, stay uninspiring.’
It was a fond signoff that her subscribers enjoyed.
So many disabled women were sick of being called inspiring just for going to the supermarket or getting dressed up, especially when they were being denied personhood and agency in so many other ways, so Raina had started ending each session by happily telling them to be as mundane or as unremarkable as they wanted.
She’d been nervous the first time around, wondering if people might misinterpret her, but the delighted comments came pouring in and thus the catchphrase was born.
Once the recording was over and beginning to download, Raina finally allowed herself a moment to exhale and admit that she was nervous about the Mondays.
The podcast had grown at a rapid rate, garnering a lot of attention over the past year.
It meant that she was eligible for Best New Host and Best Entertainment Podcast.
‘Let’s go out and get lunch,’ Pepper said cheerfully, taking her headphones off and getting to her feet with a breeziness that seemed just a little forced.
Raina was about to do the same when her phone started to vibrate on her desk.
‘Unknown number, London based,’ she said, in a high-pitched voice.
‘Answer it!’ bellowed Pepper.
Raina flapped her hands for a moment and then grabbed the phone, pressing the small green button. ‘Hello . . .? Yes, speaking.’
‘Oh, my Lord,’ murmured Pepper, fidgeting and jumping on the spot.
Raina was experiencing slight tinnitus as she listened to the calm and friendly voice on the other end of the line. She felt Pepper grab her hand and squeeze at one point, her friend’s anxiety and anticipation pulsing into her own body like a current.
‘Thank you so much,’ she finally said. ‘Goodbye.’
She pressed the red button and let her phone fall to the desk.
‘Well?’ Pepper finally croaked.
Raina took a deep, steadying breath and then let the elation fill her up.
‘Best New Host and Best Entertainment Podcast!’
‘Fucking yes!’ roared Pepper, and the two of them shrieked together in jubilant mayhem, knocking things over as they bounced and jostled.
‘A disability show, nominated for a mainstream award,’ Raina finally said, full of disbelief and delayed shock. ‘I feel faint.’
‘All those idiot trolls on Twitter, I hope you remember their accounts,’ Pepper said, hauling her friend from the small office to the lower floor of the house. She searched frantically in the fridge for something cold to celebrate with, but was only able to locate some rose lemonade.
‘To you, babe,’ Pepper said. ‘They said you shouldn’t do it. Hell, they said you couldn’t do it. And here you are.’
‘Here I am.’
‘Screw this, we need champagne. Grab your clutch, let’s go to the Sloaney Pony.’ She meant the White Horse.
‘Oh, let’s not.’
‘Why not?’ Pepper looked surprised by the objection. It was one of the only places they both liked.
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Raina feigned dismissive uninterest. ‘We go there lots.’
‘We haven’t been in ages, not the two of us. Come on! I’m calling the cab.’
Raina watched her tornado of a friend head to the porch, mind made up, while she stood in the kitchen with her lemonade bottle.
She could easily disclose her real reason for wanting to stay away.
It was Tom’s local. He could stride in at any moment.
He wouldn’t be expecting to see her, and he would be wearing a pair of old blue jeans and a T-shirt, one that made his arms look great.
His hair would have a little gel in it, not as much as he would use for a professional meeting.
Raina didn’t want to acknowledge how she knew this. How she was able to deduce all of this after a handful of meetings. The dangerous part was the sizzle of hope inside of her, the part that wanted Tom Branimir to walk into the pub and see them there.
The evening of the marathon had ended with Raina sitting on her living-room floor, eating Chinese food, and trying to draft an email to Tom Branimir.
An email saying that she couldn’t stop him writing about her should he wish to, but she could no longer be a part of his research.
The email was frank and cordial, thanking him for approaching her while firmly stating that she would no longer be discussing her life or the podcast with him in a professional capacity. No need to reply.
She hit send and ate her prawn crackers, baffled at the strange feeling of loss she felt.
It had been a week or so and she’d distracted herself by busying the upload schedule and mentally trying to manifest a Monday nomination into existence. She was also trying to pretend she was fine about him not responding. That’s what she’d asked of him, after all.
Still.
Now she had two award nominations and Pepper was dragging them to Parsons Green to celebrate.
He won’t be there, she thought to herself. He would be working on some new project, or fully invested in digging up dirt on her. Far too busy for a packed pub on a Monday evening.
She slipped into the taxi next to Pepper, telling herself just that, over and over again, as they headed north of the river.
She told herself he wouldn’t be there as they swanned through the front doors of the bustling gastro-pub, heading for a table in the corner.
She scanned the room with as much insouciance as possible.
He wasn’t there.
Relief. She felt relief. Of course it was relief. It wasn’t stinging disappointment.
Definitely not.
She joined Pepper in the darkened corner, after waving to the bartender. She waved back, a beautiful Latvian woman called Anita. Raina slid into her seat and put all thoughts of Tom Branimir and his gorgeous smile to one side.
‘We need champagne and chilled glasses,’ Pepper called to Anita, who rolled her eyes at the tone Raina’s friend used.
Raina smiled apologetically. She remembered only too well what working here could be like, when the entitled regulars and obnoxious elites of London treated (what felt like) your house with complete disrespect.
‘Be nice to the staff,’ she told Pepper tersely. ‘They work harder than both of us.’
‘I don’t work,’ Pepper pointed out happily. ‘But all right.’
Anita brought the champagne, and Raina squeezed her wrist quickly in apology.
‘Can we set up a tab?’ Pepper asked, her tone marginally improved. ‘We’re celebrating.’
‘Sure,’ Anita said. ‘Celebrating what?’
‘Raina’s been nominated for a couple of Mondays.’
‘I don’t know what those are but congratulations,’ Anita said. Her candid support made Raina laugh.
‘Thank you,’ she replied.
Pepper handed over her credit card and popped the champagne, pouring generously.
As they toasted, Raina considered two things: she hated drinking champagne, let alone on an empty stomach, and there was a couple on the other side of the bar she vaguely recognized.
She couldn’t place where from, but they were both tall and slender with blonde hair and icy blue eyes.
In fact, they seemed like male and female carbon copies of each other.
The woman looked bored and miserable, taking time to sip what looked like a gin and tonic while glaring at any girl who breathed near her.
The man was loudly demanding that one of the bartenders charge his phone for him.
‘Do we know them?’ Raina asked Pepper, using her champagne flute to direct her friend’s attention to the couple.
Pepper squinted and then groaned. ‘You don’t, lucky for you. I do.’
‘Who?’
‘Sebastian Jones and Ottie Langham.’
‘How come I recognize them?’
‘They were on a reality show for a hot minute. I met them through Bridget and Jackson. I think Seb and Ottie were at the Hathaway Dinner as well.’
Raina clicked her fingers and nodded. ‘That’s it. She was yelling at the waiter.’
‘Yeah, she’s pretty awful.’
‘And him?’
‘Worse.’
‘Best hope they don’t clock us then?’
Of course, Raina’s words acted like a cruel spell and Sebastian chose that moment to give up harassing the bartender.
He spotted Pepper and recognition flooded his face.
Both women groaned as he scooped up his drink and started to head towards them, not stopping to see if his girlfriend was following.
Raina braced herself for what was about to happen: two-faced pretending in a social situation for absolutely no reason. She wouldn’t judge Seb and Ottie until meeting them, but she knew Pepper was about to put on a magnificent performance.
‘How are you?’ exclaimed Pepper with false enthusiasm as the pair reached their table.
‘Can’t complain, gorgeous,’ Seb boomed, air-kissing Pepper while completely ignoring Raina.
‘Hi, Ottie,’ Pepper added, beaming radiantly at Seb’s companion.
‘Hi, Pep,’ fawned the other woman, mimicking Pepper’s expression while blowing a kiss. ‘How’ve you been, darling?’
‘Can’t complain,’ Pepper purred. ‘You both look well.’