Chapter 49
49
JESSE
Now
‘So what brings Jesse Lightning to LA?’
‘Research trip,’ Jesse said, explaining where he’d been for the past two days.
Artie said she’d seen an incredible Keith Haring exhibition at The Broad last year and Jesse lamented having missed it, as the waiter came and Artie ordered them a Grey Goose and tonic, plus an absinthe each. Jesse felt a niggle. Paris on an LA pavement didn’t feel quite right, but he suddenly needed a drink.
‘I’ll have an IPA as well, please.’ He looked around at the tables next to him. ‘Monkey Fist looks great, thanks.’
‘Very good, monsieur ,’ the woman said, authentically French at least.
Artie watched the waitress walk away and then lit a cigarette.
‘You’re thirsty!’ she said, with a twinkle in her eye. He couldn’t work out if the comment was a flirtation or a dig, but he took it with a smile.
‘Yeah, I just hiked up to Griffith Park and back down.’
Artie rolled her eyes in jest, as if to say such a tourist , then offered Jesse a cigarette from her carton.
He shook his head.
‘So how’s life? How’s the missus?’
Jesse was taken aback. Weren’t they even going to talk about work first? That thing they had in common? In a sphere dominated by men, Artie Donner was a rare gem. She had recently set up a design agency, in an industry where 0.1 per cent of creative agencies were founded by women, and deliberately employed female designers from under-represented communities. Jesse thought she was amazing and wanted to know how her business was going.
He scratched his temple awkwardly.
‘Well to be honest, I don’t know…’
Artie gasped again.
‘You don’t?’
Jesse looked sheepish, as if he were confessing a wrongdoing. ‘We’ve separated. Split up.’
‘Shut up!’ Artie said, knitting her auburn brows into a pretty bow. ‘Oh I’m sorry, are you OK?’
‘Yeah, yeah, it was for the best. Shit timing but… when is a good time, huh?’ Jesse tried to keep it vague. He didn’t want to bring up his dad, and he would be mortified having to explain how his marriage had unravelled. Especially to Artie. She was probably too cool to ever contemplate an archaic institution such as marriage.
‘True,’ Artie said, philosophically, as she exhaled a ribbon of smoke towards the pavement.
‘We’re sharing custody of our daughter.’
‘Oh yeah right, your girl!’ Artie said, as if she’d forgotten. ‘How’s she doing?’
‘Yeah she’s great, she’s seven now. She’ll be fine – kids are more resilient than us, right?’
Artie nodded wholeheartedly as a different waiter brought their drinks and placed them down on the small circular table.
‘Wow, break my heart,’ Artie sighed blithely as the waiter left.
‘What?’
‘If I had this intel five years ago…’ She raised her eyebrows.
‘What do you mean?’
She inhaled another elegant puff and blew the smoke away from Jesse, out of the corner of her mouth.
‘I wanted to fuck you so bad when we were working on MLS.’
Jesse, taking a sip of his IPA, almost choked with laughter.
‘Really?’ He looked at Artie as if she were pranking him.
‘Yeah man! Totally. You didn’t get those vibes?’
‘Erm… no!’
Truth be told, Jesse had thought Artie was beautiful, sexy, glamorous, American. So LA. He knew about the rock stars she dated and the parties she went to. He would never have considered she would want to fuck him. Besides, he was married. It was moot.
‘Really?’ Artie was just as shocked.
‘That’s totally news to me, I thought we worked in the strictest, most professional of partnerships…’ he said, now a hint of flirtation in his voice.
‘Are you ready to order, mademoiselle ?’ asked the first waitress, returning with an iPad.
Jesse and Artie both ordered the moules frites and a basket of oven-fresh bread and the waiter left them. Artie stubbed out her cigarette and put the ashtray on the pavement under her chair.
‘You know, Donner and Lightning. We made a great team.’
‘We did. That kit was fucking amazing. It made football – soccer – and fashion finally align in the US.’
‘Yeah I think that was more down to Ibrahimovic, Beckham and Messi, but whatever…’ Artie said. ‘My point is, Donner…’ She jabbed a finger towards her breastbone.
‘Donner?’ Jesse was lost.
‘Donner!’ Artie smiled. Her teeth were spectacular. ‘Donner means “thunder” in German you doofus! Thunder and fucking Lightning. Go figure!’
Artie downed her absinthe shot and held Jesse’s eye. Her amber eyes were beautiful.