Chapter Thirty-Eight
The gelateria Jack chose did cocktails as well as ice cream, and was positioned on the waterside, a quaint, narrow shop with a blue and white striped awning and a handful of tables and chairs outside.
Even in the cold light of late winter, it was busy, and there was a throng of tourists holding up their ice creams and attempting to photograph them with the landscape of Venice behind. It was Instagram-a-go-go here.
Jack was late. I knew he would be. I ordered a gianduiotto with an Aperol spritz and sat down in a wicker chair at a metal table, just for once ignoring the buzzing of my phone.
The ice cream came out in a hurricane glass, with a long spoon, and its smooth, creamy, rich deliciousness was so good that I almost groaned out loud with joy at the momentary reprieve it gave me.
‘Hey, princess.’ Ugh and double ugh. The douche of the hour had arrived.
‘Ice cream at sunset, how romantic,’ he said, pulling his chair up a little too close.
I shifted mine away and carried on eating my ice cream.
When I finally looked at him, he was sitting, his chin cupped in his hand, smiling at me.
‘You need to order,’ I said.
Still smiling, but with an undercurrent of annoyance in his eyes, he went in, returning with a large serving of pale green ice cream. ‘Mint choc chip?’ I said sarcastically.
‘Pistachio,’ he said, with a look that added you pleb.
We ate together in silence for a minute or two, our spoons clinking against the glasses, surrounded by the sound of happy voices talking in different languages, buffeted by the sweep of cold, canal-scented breeze.
Anyone looking at us would have thought we were contented in each other’s company, not two people who were facing off like cats getting ready to pounce.
‘You’ve upset my girlfriend,’ he said, eventually. I had wondered what his opening shot would be.
I finished my ice cream (slightly too quickly: I had a touch of brain freeze) and let the spoon rest in the glass. ‘I think you’re the one who’s doing most of the upsetting,’ I said.
‘You say tomayto, I say tomahto,’ he said. He tried to hold my gaze. ‘You and I are just explosive, I guess.’
‘Oh, come on,’ I said. ‘Damp squib, more like. Look, I just wanted to say to you: give Sasha a break, okay? I don’t know exactly why you’re messing with her but don’t break her heart. And don’t fuck her over so completely she can never get a job in this industry again.’
He savoured a mouthful of pistachio ice cream. ‘Jealous, are you? She can take care of herself.’
He looked completely unbothered by the idea that his actions might damage Sasha.
Looking at him closely, everything about him seemed contrived: the shadow of stubble across his face; his precisely styled black hair, sprayed rock solid; his perfect white t-shirt and jacket.
Contrived, and hard-edged, without any sensitivity.
Sure, Jack could be witty, but his wasn’t the clean-cut cheerfulness of Olly, whose coolness was hard won and tested under combat rather than in the world of gossip and hearsay.
In comparison, how had I ever found Jack even glancingly attractive?
‘She’s just a kid,’ I said. ‘I’m asking you leave an impressionable young woman alone. Don’t do a number on her.’
I saw the look in his eyes. I saw that he was, indeed, narcissistic enough to believe I was jealous. ‘Oh, believe me,’ he said, lifting a perfectly shaped eyebrow, ‘she’s actually quite the adult in many ways.’
I felt myself wince in repulsion. ‘You really are a scumbag,’ I said, despite the fact I didn’t want to show how annoyed I was. It was too late anyway: his eyes were fixed on my face, picking up every micro-expression. I toyed with my cocktail.
‘That’s no way to talk to me,’ he said. ‘I’m hurt. I might have to retaliate.’
I pretended to stifle a yawn. ‘How would you do that?’
‘I could publish some stuff.’
‘Would anyone see it? I heard your clickthrough count was down.’
‘Not after today, baby girl.’
I wished I had more ice cream to eat. ‘I guess Sasha’s been talking to you about things at EKArts.’
I hated the glint in his eye. ‘More than talking. I’ve got pictures.’
No. I felt a sickening fall in my chest. Sasha had access to my inbox as well as my diary, and she must have seen the image of Ajax when he’d emailed it to me and Olly.
I decided I was now officially sick of this trip.
The cheerful, chattering voices, the glittering water, the bone-chilling winter cold were all swappable, in a heartbeat, for my pyjamas, my cat, and a vat of tea.
‘I guess it’s fine if you want to breach copyright, use images you haven’t paid for, the big guns will be out for you. ’
He gave a belly laugh. ‘Copyright? That’s all you’ve got? That’s a new one, Lizzy, I’ve got to give it to you. I think it’ll be worth it to see Ajax and Esme exposed as the hypocrites they are.’
‘Coming from the top hypocrite himself,’ I said, thinking pictures, plural? there was only one. ‘It’s not a great shot, but it’s worth a lot to the person that took it…’
‘I’ve got more than one, baby. Esme’s been caught on camera, too.’
‘Esme?’ I frowned, tilted my head, glanced around us, as though people might be listening.
That’s when I saw him. Olly. Standing, as though he had just come into the street and caught sight of me.
As our eyes met, I raised my hand, but he just stared, his expression set and grim.
Then he turned and walked away, so swiftly that he had disappeared in a moment into the back streets of Venice.
‘I’ve got to go,’ I said, standing up.
‘I really hope we haven’t annoyed your boyfriend,’ said Jack.
He was pathetic, and any fear I’d felt dissolved in that moment, swept away by the intensity of my dislike for him.
I calculated what would be the single thing I could do that would annoy him the most. Then I picked up the Aperol spritz and dumped the orange drink over the top of his head.
The word he called me was satisfyingly dark enough for me to know I’d hit my mark.
‘Takes one to know one,’ I said, and set off at a jog to catch Olly.