As we drive past Foxrock church Adam asks me how I’ve been. I tell him about my script and he seems suitably impressed. He admits he’s still looking for the perfect script but that everything his agent sends him is crap. Strangely that gives me
hope. Maybe people won’t think mine is rubbish. After all, with all that crap circulating around Hollywood, maybe my script will be snapped up.
Adam tells me he’s desperate to move from telly to big budget movies. He says people like Colin
Farrell have opened the door for young Irish actors trying to break into the game. I tell him I hope he’s not going to take up swearing and womanising in order to get noticed. He laughs and gives my thigh a squeeze.
I wonder if he’s going to mention the woman I saw him photographed with during the week. I know I shouldn’t really ask in case it annoys him. In case he thinks I’m paranoid or something.
‘What kind of part are you looking for?’ I ask.
‘A strong lead. In a comedy maybe. I’m not sure what part I’m looking for exactly but I know I’ll know it when I see it.’
I tell him my script is as far from a comedy as can be. He tells me writing a comedy is the hardest thing to do. It’s much easier to write tragedy, he says.
‘How do you know?’
‘Because everything that’s sent to my agent is tragic,’ he explains. ‘Everyone’s got a sad tale to tell. I mean it. Everyone.’
I wonder why he’s being so negative about it all. Maybe he thinks he is doing me a favour. Letting me down gently before I even get the chance to put my script out there. Does he think I haven’t a chance in hell of being accepted? I don’t blame him really.
Most people are sceptics. My mother never fails to tell me I’ll never be anything. And all the teachers in my old school used to write ‘Katie is an idler’ on my numerous report cards.
‘Who do you hang out with when you’re in New York?’ I ask Adam suddenly, because I don’t want to talk about my script any more.
He seems slightly surprised at the question.
‘I’m usually working all the time so I don’t get to hang out that much.’
‘But don’t you have any friends over there?’
‘I’m friendly with the cast but I don’t socialise with them after work or anything. I just tend to chill in my apartment or go to see a movie or something.’
‘Have you a nice apartment over there?’
‘It’s great,’ he tells me. ‘You should come over and see it sometime.’
My heart soars. Oh my God, did you hear that? Adam has just invited me to come and see his apartment. Wow. He’s obviously pretty serious about us. After all, you don’t invite people you don’t really care about to visit you, do you? Especially not when they live on the other side of the world. No. Nonetheless I can’t believe how fast things seem to be progressing between us. It’s almost scary. But I don’t want to slow down though. No. This might be the real thing, so why not just go with the flow?
‘You could write your script in my spare room,’ he continues. ‘I have a lovely big desk and a computer in my place in Soho. It’s really peaceful there and a lot of writers live in the area, so you’d probably find it quite inspirational.’
I’m listening but not saying anything. I can’t. My mouth has gone dry. My heart is palpitating. Has Adam Kirrane,
the
Adam Kirrane just suggested that I move in with him? I mean, if he were just inviting me over for the weekend, he wouldn’t expect
me to be working, would he? God, he must really, really like me. After all, he isn’t inviting Wendy over to New York, or Sandy or the girl in the photo, is he? I’m so thrilled I can barely keep the smile off my face. Of course, moving in with him would be too much at this stage, and anyway I can’t just pack in my job and head off blindly. But it’s terribly flattering to know he’s thinking so far ahead. Just wait ’til I tell Debbie. She won’t believe it.
‘I don’t believe it!’
‘I swear to God Debbie. What do you make of it all? He must seriously be interested.’
‘Just be very careful though,’ she warns.
I’m locked in a bathroom cubicle of the quaint Wicklow hotel where Adam has brought me. Adam is in the dining room checking out the wine list. I’ve just checked my reflection in the mirror and I look different. I look so happy I almost didn’t recognise myself. Maybe this is the way people look when they realise they’ve finally met Mr Right after years and years of meeting Mr Wrongs. I wish Debbie wouldn’t put a dampener on things though. I thought she’d be happier for me.
‘I
will
be careful,’ I retort. ‘I just wanted you to be the first to know.’
‘The first to know what?’
‘That he’s asked me to move over,’ I say, sounding more than a little exasperated. I almost wish I hadn’t rung her now.
‘But has he actually
asked
you to move over?’ Debbie sounds suspicious. ‘I mean, are you sure you didn’t take him up the wrong way?’
‘No, I didn’t. He even told me I could write in his apartment.’
‘Mmm. Don’t get carried away though, do you hear me?’
‘Yeah okay, talk to you tomorrow Debbie.’
Huh! I wonder what’s eating
her
? She didn’t sound too excited for me, I think, as I wash my hands and dry them on the soft fluffy white towel. Maybe Donald hasn’t rung in a while and she’s feeling a bit down. Or maybe it’s just that time of the
month and her hormones are at her. Oh well, I’m not going to let Debbie’s negativity ruin my night. Adam is waiting for me in the dining room and that’s the most important thing.
There are only six other tables in the hotel restaurant apart from our own. It’s very small, but homely and luxurious. According to Adam, this
place used to be owned by an English aristocrat. It was his country home and he actually kept a mistress here, and nobody ever found out about her until the old man kicked the bucket. Then she refused to leave and the whole thing caused quite
a scandal.
I hadn’t realised Adam took such an avid interest in Irish history. It’s refreshing to have dinner with such an educated person. God, when I think
of what I put up with all those years I was seeing Tim. He used to go on about the bank, and all the people he disliked in his office, and how so and so didn’t deserve a promotion, and how such and such a female manager was so bitchy in order to hide her inferiority complex. He really hadn’t had a good word to say about anyone. Unfortunately, I was the one who had to listen to him ranting and raving on our twice weekly drives to the cinema multiplex.
It’s only when you look back on a relationship
that you realise how unhappy you were in it. At the time, I suppose you just go along with it not questioning it. It just becomes routine and you get used to it. When I think about it now, I had quite a lucky escape when Tim finally dumped me, didn’t I? Can you imagine what a boring married life we might have had?
Anyway I’m not going to waste any more time thinking about Tim. Especially not tonight. The idea of it! Adam has ordered champagne and the waiter is pouring two glasses. I’m impressed. He asks me what I’m going to order and I pick up the menu. Unfortunately there’s only one vegetarian option, which I always think is a bit ignorant to see on a menu. As if vegetarians don’t deserve a choice or anything! But the pasta dish sounds tempting so I don’t complain.
Adam orders smoked salmon as a starter. I’m very surprised ’cos I distinctly remember him being a veggie.
‘I do eat fish,’ he explains.
‘But they have eyes.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Fish have eyes. You can’t be a veggie and eat things with eyes.’
Adam looks slightly uncomfortable as if he’d never actually realised that fish in fact have eyes. But I certainly don’t want to get into a heated debate about vegetarianism now, so I quickly raise my glass and say ‘cheers’ and then lean over and kiss him
seductively on the lips.
‘Very nice,’ he smiles at me. ‘I hope there’s more from where that came from.
‘Well if you’re a good boy, you never know what might happen,’ I give him a seductive wink.
I’m getting quite good at this, I think. Considering I was with Tim for so many years and got no practice at seduction at all. Tim’s idea of foreplay was asking me if I was ‘on for it’ before rummaging through his wardrobe for a condom.
That would usually take a while because his room was so messy. I would start reading a magazine or flicking through the TV channels or something while I was waiting. Sometimes I’d even ring someone for a quick chat on my mobile.
Anyway, what in the name of God am I still thinking about Tim again for? Didn’t he waste enough of
my time when I was with him? He really shouldn’t be granted any more quality thinking time.
I notice Adam is knocking back the champagne. I hope he realises he has to drive me home later and can’t be drinking and driving. You wouldn’t
believe how many of my friends still do that. They always think they’re fine to drive and then the next day they’re all remorseful and thankful they weren’t caught and are swearing never to do it again. Funny how they’re more pleased about not getting caught than not having knocked down some innocent passer-by.
Adam refills my glass. He’s staring into my eyes seductively and I have to admit he is probably the
sexiest man I have ever seen in my life. Of course he looks genuinely scrummy in photos and on the TV screen. But up close he’s even better. His skin is sallow and flawless yet his jaw line is strong and defined. But it’s his eyes, which have captivated me. They’re the type of eyes that undress you with a glance. No wonder women find Adam Kirrane totally irresistible.
Our starters arrive. I can’t wait to tuck into my
pear and walnut salad with blue cheese – yum! Adam plays around with his starter. I bet he watches his weight. How else could he maintain his perfectly toned body? It’s great though. So many men have grey, unhealthy skin, shocking receding hairlines
and schoolteacher glasses. They wear woolly non-descript jumpers and own large, soft bellies. I must say it’s very disappointing doing pub-crawls these days. You leave one pub hoping that the next one will offer something more exciting, but it never
does. That’s why when you meet a guy like Adam you realise what a rarity he is. Oh I know I said earlier that I didn’t like good-looking men any more but a girl’s got to be able to change her mind along the way.
I wish I’d a camera with me right now so you
could see for yourself. Picture perfect. And he doesn’t even seem to realise it. At least if he does, he doesn’t let on. Right now Adam’s wearing a white short-sleeved shirt, which shows off his toned tanned arms perfectly. The candle in the middle of
the table is flickering uncertainly between us and the champagne bubbles seem to have shot straight to my head. I reach out my hand and bravely rest it on Adam’s strong arm.
‘You feeling tipsy already?’ he laughs.
‘No.’
‘Well then you definitely need some more,’ he refills my glass.
When my main course, linguine with three cheeses and black olives, arrives, I devour it. It tastes even better than it looks. The portions are small which suits me fine. That’s what I love about gourmet food. It’s so good for the figure. Although sometimes I’m so hungry after gourmet meals, I feel like stopping off at McDonald’s on the way
home.
Our conversation flows easily. Adam explains how he got into acting after studying drama in Trinity. He says so many drama students waste time talking about dreams rather than pursuing them. He says it’s easier to sit in someone’s flat smoking
pot and wallowing in the injustice of the world of entertainment than to get out there and put your ass on the line. He tells me about the bitching and the backstabbing that goes on behind the scenes of
Dreamboat
and how you never know when the studio bigwigs are going to scrap the entire show, leaving most of the actors where they started out. On the dung heap.
I ask Adam if he feels under pressure to stay
single in order to maintain fans. He looks fairly surprised and says he doesn’t really care what anyone else thinks because at the end of the day it’s his life and he’s got to live it.
I barely notice Adam ordering another bottle of champagne. I’m fascinated by his conversation, by his life, his ambitions and his dogged determination to succeed. I ask him if women throw themselves at him just because he’s on TV.
‘Not as many as people think,’ he insists.
I ask him if he has dated any other air hostess.
‘A couple,’ he answers. And I’m relieved he’s not lying to me.
He’s not very keen to discuss the other air hostesses he’s dated. Instead he tells me about Soho in New York and how he really likes hanging out there. Some really big names live in Soho, he says. And they just walk around without being hassled. I
promise to visit him there soon and he looks pleased. After a while I realise that we’ve spent most of the night talking about Adam and hardly any time talking about me. But that’s okay because Adam’s life is a hell of a lot more interesting and
anyway in the past I’ve given out far too many details about myself, far too soon.