CHAPTER SEVEN #2
Today wasn’t any different.
As I strode away, I unlocked my phone.
Jessy
Meet me in five mins?
Paddy
k
I couldn’t be bothered to type more than a letter. Rage was pouring through me, hot lead coursing in my veins.
How could she think – and I’d almost let her –
‘Woah there, tiger.’
I felt someone grab my arm and flinched. I wrenched it back and exploded. ‘Don’t fucking touch me!’
Jessy placed both her hands up in immediate surrender, her arms wide. ‘Hey. Sorry.’
I was breathing heavily and knew I needed to rein it in, but I couldn’t calm down quick enough. Stars were appearing in the corners of my eyes, heat in my chest –
‘You OK?’
‘I’m fine.’ I took deep breaths, settling myself before I snapped at the innocent woman in front of me. Again.
Jessy hadn’t done anything to deserve my foul mood. I tried to look at her reassuringly, my eyes tracing over her face, and then her –
Damn. The little sundress she was wearing was doing nothing to help me cool off. I took in the rest of her. No bra straps, no shoes – no shoes?
‘I broke my sandal,’ Jessy said with a half grin as she saw my gaze dart down. ‘I can fix it, though – this isn’t the first time.’
My chest was heaving, my throat parched, and my brain was having a hard time keeping up with my violent swings between emotions.
All I wanted to do was go back home and write through the pain, pour it out into music.
All those girls, crying out my name and inking my words, my lyrics, on their bodies. They thought they came from love. How wrong they were.
‘I thought – can we get a drink?’ Jessy bit her lip, her smile fading. ‘We can even count it as one of our dates, if you want. Save you seeing me again later this week.’
Another woman who wanted nothing but to profit off me. It was probably unfair to cast Jessy in the same light as Cassie, but the hurt was still churning in my chest.
And yet she was smiling. Unaware of her effect on me.
And she was right. We could count it as a date, even if the record label hadn’t organized it. One less chance to make a fool of myself in front of her.
‘Sure,’ I said, subdued, and held the door open.
The pub was busy, as everywhere always was, but Jessy pointed at two barstools in a corner. ‘You grab those, I’ll get drinks.’
She was gone before I could say more.
When she made her way back, she had a drink in each hand and a white piece of paper dangling from her mouth.
‘This better?’ Jessy took the paper out of her mouth and stuffed it in her cleavage as she sat down.
Fuck. Don’t look.
‘It’s the receipt,’ she said, clinking her glass of tepid white wine with mine. ‘For Derek. Cheers!’
She took a sip of the wine, but I barely touched my own. The reminder of Derek, the bullshit contract and the fact that Jessy was only here for the clout all soured my mood further.
Was every woman in my life determined to hurt me?
‘God, it’s so nice not to be working in the middle of the day,’ Jessy said brightly. ‘I mean, you’d think working in finance would be all fancy lunches and day-drinking, but it turns out not.’
‘You wanted to talk,’ I said woodenly, my patience for small talk low.
Jessy nodded as she took another sip. ‘Yeah, I just – after our first date, I thought –’
‘It wasn’t a date,’ I pointed out. ‘Not really.’
Was it rude? Perhaps. Was it unnecessary? For sure. But I needed the reminder. Any desire I felt, any connection that seemed real here, was anything but. This was a woman who was only out for what she could get.
Cassie. Celine. Jessy. They were all the same.
‘Yeah, I know that, obviously,’ Jessy continued without pause.
‘It’s just – this fake dating.’ She lowered her voice, and I resisted the urge to lean closer to hear her.
The pub wasn’t that loud, but her perfume was intoxicating.
Or maybe that was just her. ‘I think we need to work on it. Don’t you? ’
Work on it?
I blinked. What the hell was she talking about?
Confusion must have been painted on my face, because she flushed – and it travelled from her cheeks down to her shoulders. How had I not noticed that before?
‘It’s just, well, if we’re going to convince people that this –’ Jessy gestured between the two of us, the three silver rings on her right hand glinting – ‘is real, we need to start acting like we actually like each other.’
Her gaze was steady, her point reasonable, and I wanted to stride away and punch Derek in the gut.
‘Do you see what I mean?’ Jessy prompted, sipping her wine and smiling at me a little nervously. ‘I mean, you saw Derek’s email.’
I blinked. Derek’s email?
‘Or not …’ Her smile was a little too knowing. ‘Look, here.’
Jessy pulled out her phone and tapped on it before she handed it over. The screen was open at a long, desperate email from my publicist.
Well, great. The two of you are a disaster – you didn’t see the photographer outside that restaurant, did you?
No, I guess not. The pair of you look miserable, you’re not even holding hands.
Do you understand what fake dating is? Heck, do you even understand what dating is?
Because it doesn’t seem like it from here.
The label isn’t happy. I’m not happy. You two are clearly unhappy – but that’s your own fault.
Get better at this. Hold hands. Smile as though you mean it. Get coffee together, wear Patrick’s jacket – something, for God’s sake.
Here’s a list of the ways this needs to go.
I stopped reading at that point. ‘He doesn’t seem happy.’
‘No, he’s not.’ Jessy’s voice was wry as she held out her hand for her phone. ‘So we’ve got to be … well, better at this.’
I leaned back, drink still untouched. ‘So you’re saying that I need to be a better boyfriend?’
There it was again. That flush. Only now it was reaching her chest and –
‘I’m just saying, Derek seems pretty insistent we –’
‘Because I don’t remember being particularly wowed by your dating skills,’ I lied, forcing my gaze back up to her face.
Jessy’s smile vanished. ‘Me? What did I do?’
‘You weren’t charm itself. Your conversational skills –’
‘I am not going to be marked down on my conversational skills by a guy who didn’t even notice that the waiter was offering him dessert!’ Jessy hissed.
And it felt good, somehow, to get angry. All this rage within me, all the frustration with Cassie, it had to flow somewhere.
And Jessy was here, contractually obligated to be with me.
Well, if she wanted to bask in the rays of a celebrity, she would have to take the heat.
‘You’re only doing this for clout, and honestly, I’m already sick of it,’ I spat out, knowing I should stop, unable to. ‘You might be hot –’
‘You think I’m hot?’
Shit.
‘– but I am not here to pretend to be obsessed with a woman who couldn’t find another guy to date her,’ I finished doggedly, ignoring all the warning bells that were yelling shut the fuck up.
Jessy blinked.
It was hardly the best insult, and not based in truth – or any truth I was aware of, at least. But the ugly beast that had been gnawing at me since this sham had started was out for blood.
I sat waiting for Jessy to throw something back at me – a well-deserved insult, or even her drink.
Instead, her piercing blue eyes began blinking. Shit. Were those tears? Guilt stabbed me in the chest. She hadn’t done anything to deserve that.
‘Fuck you.’
I watched on, paralysed, as she gathered her things and rose from the barstool. ‘Jessy –’
‘You know, Patrick,’ said Jessy, with a smile that carried no warmth, ‘on Butterflies you always came across as someone out of his depth, but still a genuinely nice guy. I guess now I know the truth. You’re just like the rest of them. An arsehole.’
Without another word, she wove her way through the crowd – disappearing out of sight with just a few steps.
‘Great.’ I picked up my drink and downed it in one.