‘That is not a hooker dress,’ Yvonne fumed, pointing at Claire.
‘And that’s not a nun dress,’ Claire mumbled sulkily.
‘What’s the occasion anyway?’ Luca asked.
‘Dinner. She’s got a date!’ Yvonne told him, sounding more like a pushy mother by the second. Claire prayed she wouldn’t go into details.
‘Good for you,’ Luca said softly. ‘And you’re letting Yvonne dress you? Seriously?’
‘I thought you were going to help, Luca. If you’re just going to criticise …’
‘Okay.’ He jumped off the sofa, holding up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. ‘Leave it to me. Take that thing off,’ he told Claire, snatching the black dress from Yvonne and marching away.
Claire went back to the changing room, hung the red dress on its hanger and waited. She was beginning to think Luca
was never coming back when his arm appeared through the curtain.
‘Here, try this,’ he said, thrusting a hanger at her.
Claire examined the dress before unzipping it to try it on. It was the palest shade of green, the bodice a soft velour, while the neckline and long sleeves were sheer chiffon. She pulled it on, loving the feel of it. She had wanted a dress with sleeves like this ever since she had first seen Grace Kelly in that blue dress in
High Society
. She wondered why she hadn’t noticed it – but then she remembered she’d been zeroing in on black. She felt like hugging Luca when she looked in the mirror. It was perfect – sexy but classy. The bodice was fitted, clinging to her curves, but the skirt was full, layers of chiffon that swished when she moved, and fell to just above the knee. And the colour really suited her.
‘Well?’ Yvonne asked, from the other side of the curtain.
‘Yeah, it’s, um …’ Claire pulled the curtain back and stepped into the shop, where Yvonne and Luca were waiting expectantly. She stood in front of them for inspection, not minding their scrutiny now. She even did a little twirl.
‘Wow!’ Yvonne said, grinning with delight.
‘Perfect.’ Luca smiled. ‘My work here is done.’
‘Thanks, Luca,’ Claire said. ‘I really love it.’
‘You’ve earned yourself a big lunch, mister,’ Yvonne said.
‘I can’t make lunch,’ he said, with a grimace. ‘I’m meeting someone.’
‘Well, I’ll owe you.’
‘I’ll hold you to it. Enjoy your date, Claire,’ he called as he left.
Luca sat up in bed munching an apple as the afternoon sun slanted in through the blinds, warming him and creating strips of honey-coloured light on the polished wooden floor of Aisling’s bedroom.
‘Well, that was a long time coming,’ she said with a triumphant smile.
He looked at her stretched out naked beside him on the rumpled sheet, her long blonde hair tousled. Damp tendrils clung to her forehead and the sides of her face. ‘
You
were a long time coming,’ he said.
She made a sleepy, satisfied noise and nestled deeper into the pillow.
‘Give me a bite.’ She nodded at the apple.
Luca nipped her shoulder lightly. ‘There you go.’
Aisling laughed and grabbed the apple from him.
‘Hey!’
‘Bite me!’ she said, and bit into it with a juicy crunch before handing it back to him.
Luca finished it and lobbed the core into the basket in the far corner of the room. Then he checked his watch. It was almost three. ‘I’m going to head off,’ he said, swinging out of the bed.
‘Don’t go.’ Aisling groaned pettishly, reaching for him, but he was already sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to her. ‘Why don’t you stay?’ Her fingers stroked his spine.
Luca sighed. ‘I told you. I’m meeting my father for dinner later, and I want to get some work done before that.’
‘You mean painting?’ She didn’t try to hide the sneer in her voice.
‘Yes, painting.’
‘But that’s the beauty of being your own boss. No one can stop you skiving off for an afternoon whenever you want. I just told Nicola I wouldn’t be back for the rest of the day. I could tell she was livid, but there’s nothing she can do about it.’ Aisling owned a very chic and expensive bag shop in the Powerscourt Centre where, like her stock, she was more decorative than useful.
‘Well, unlike you, no one else can do my work for me.’
‘So take a day off,’ she drawled, in a bored voice. ‘Who cares?’
‘I care,’ he said, standing up and turning to her.
‘You could paint me.’ She spread her arms wide and looked up at him appealingly.
He studied her, his eyes slowly raking the length of her body. She was a beautiful girl, there was no denying that – she had a fit, toned body, soft, well-tended skin, great tits. But there was something vacuous and bland about her prettiness that held no aesthetic interest for him. There was no character in her face, no little quirk or irregularity to make it interesting. It was flawless, doll-like … boring.
‘Is this new?’ he asked, bending and reaching out with one finger to touch the tattoo on her hip – a cluster of small, coloured stars. He hadn’t seen it before, but it was a long time since they’d slept together.
‘I got it a couple of weeks ago. What do you think?’
‘It’s cool,’ he said, sitting down beside her, his finger tracing lazily over the tattoo.
‘You’re the first person to see it.’
‘Really? Not even Philip?’
‘No.’ Aisling raised herself up on her elbow. ‘Philip and I are on a break.’
‘Yeah?’
‘You didn’t know?’ She sounded surprised.
‘Why would I?’
‘Well, I’d have thought it was obvious. I mean, do you honestly think I’d be here with you if I was still with Philip?’ she asked indignantly.
‘Honestly? I think you would, yeah,’ he said with a smirk.
‘Fuck you!’ she said softly, but she wasn’t even trying to hold back her smile. Aisling liked her reputation as a ballsy man-eater. ‘Well, I wouldn’t,’ she said archly. ‘I may play around, but when I’m with someone, I don’t cheat.’
‘Very admirable. You’re almost up there with the Virgin Mary. Lucky for me, then, that I caught you when you were between gigs with Philip.’
‘What makes you think I’m getting back with him?’
‘Because it’s what you and Philip
do
. You’ll probably still be breaking up and getting back together when you’re both ninety.’
‘Not this time. I’m going to tell him it’s over for good. He’s really pissing me off. He can be such a knob.’
‘You’ll get no argument from me there.’
‘So you think I should?’ She looked up at him coquettishly from beneath her lashes. ‘Break up with him?’
‘If you want to.’
‘What kind of answer is that?’ she said, her smile swiftly replaced by a scowl.
‘What do you want me to say? If you want to break up with him, you should break up with him.’
‘I want to know what you think. I mean, how would you feel about it?’
Luca shrugged. ‘Dump Philip or marry him and have his babies – what difference does it make to me?’
‘How can you say that? I just told you I wouldn’t be here with you now if I was with Philip.’
‘Look, I’m not saying it hasn’t been fun, but that’d hardly be the end of the world, would it?’
‘Charming!’ she said petulantly.
‘Anyway,’ he grinned, ‘I could catch you next time around.’
‘I told you, there isn’t going to be a next time. If we split up this time, it’s over for good. Then you and I could have lots more afternoons like this,’ she said seductively, playing with the hair on his chest.
‘Well, don’t break up with him on my account—’
‘Jesus!’ she huffed, pulling away abruptly. ‘Why are you being like this?’
‘Like what?’
‘You act like you don’t even care.’
‘I’m not acting. I
don’t
care. And neither do you, remember?’
‘Maybe I’ve changed my mind.’
‘Well, I haven’t changed mine.’ He stood. ‘I’m going for a shower.’
‘You’re such a shit, Luca,’ she hissed to his back.
Yeah, whatever, Luca thought wearily as he stalked into the vast, open-plan living room. Aisling lived in a loft-style apartment at Grand Canal Dock. On his way to the bathroom, he stopped by the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the water to take in the view, leaning his forehead against the glass. He was so fed up with girls telling him he was a shit because he didn’t want what they wanted – especially when he’d made it perfectly clear what he wanted from the start. He wasn’t the one changing his mind, and it wasn’t his fault that Aisling had been lying, pretending she was cool with casual sex because she wanted him to stick around long enough for her to change him.
‘For fuck’s sake, Luca, get away from the window,’ Aisling said behind him. ‘People will see you.’
‘So? I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.’
Her eyes flew to his dick. ‘No.’ She smiled saucily as she walked towards him, completely naked. She stood beside him at the window, looking down at the people passing on the walkway below.
‘Aren’t you worried people will see
you
?’ Luca asked.
‘You’re not the only one who has nothing to be ashamed of.’ She touched his hand, stepping closer so her breasts were brushing against his chest. ‘Why don’t we really give them something to look at?’
His body was already starting to respond to her. ‘I told you, I have to go,’ he said, pulling away from her and starting to gather
up his clothes, which were scattered around the living room. He could shower at home. Now he just wanted to get out of there.
Aisling’s smile disappeared and she folded her arms, her face like thunder as she watched him get dressed hastily. Thank Christ they hadn’t gone to his place, he thought, as he zipped up his jeans and pulled on his T-shirt – he’d never have got rid of her. But Aisling had refused to go there on the grounds that it was ‘minging’. Sometimes living in a shithole had its advantages.
‘I’ll see you around, yeah?’ he said, as he pulled on his jacket. He leaned in to kiss her, but she reared away from him.
‘Just piss off!’
Outside the apartment, Luca didn’t bother waiting for the lift, running down the stairs as if he was being chased.
Where the fuck had that come from? Aisling was the last person he would have expected to turn clingy and demanding. Quite apart from the fact that she was a notorious player, she had an ongoing thing with Philip, and they
always
ended up back together, no matter who else she amused herself with in the meantime. In fact, their friends often said she was using Luca to make Philip jealous – which was fine by him. He was happy to help.
And now she’d suddenly decided to glom on to him. He’d obviously made a mistake, taking her at her word that she wasn’t interested in anything serious. But what the fuck was she thinking? They didn’t even like each other – not really. He was always clear about what he wanted – and didn’t want – right from the start. So why did it inevitably end up with him being told what a shit he was, some girl shouting and throwing stuff at him, or acting hurt and accusing him of having misled her?
They always thought they’d be the one to transform him into their idea of the perfect boyfriend if they could just fuck him enough times. Well, screw that!
The gallery that represented him was giving him his first solo show in September, and even though it was now only the
beginning of May, he didn’t feel he had a lot of time. So he spent the rest of the day working furiously on a couple of pieces, swapping between them so that he could get on with one while he left the other to dry. The frustrating thing about working in oils was how long it took the paint to dry between layers, so he usually had at least two canvases on the go simultaneously. He quickly became engrossed, completely absorbed in what he was creating, and regretted wasting so much time with Aisling. Still, that wouldn’t be happening again anytime soon – he’d burned his bridges there. That had been happening a lot lately. If he kept it up, he’d run out of girls to sleep with, he thought wryly. He’d have to become celibate or move out of Dublin. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to give that a rest for a while anyway. If nothing else, he’d have more time to focus on his painting.
At seven, he downed tools, cleaned up and got ready to go out. He had arranged to meet his father at an Indian restaurant close to the private hospital where he worked. It was a favourite haunt of Jonathan’s for their occasional father/son get-togethers because it gave him a rare opportunity to eat Indian food, which his wife didn’t like.
Luca walked the short distance from the bus stop to the restaurant, which was on a quiet, tree-lined road, with a little courtyard in front. He automatically scanned the parking space to the side, checking for Jonathan’s BMW. He was alarmed to recognise his mother’s Mercedes there instead, unmistakable with the stuffed dolphin in the back window – it had been a permanent fixture for almost as long as he could remember.
Fuck!
He stopped in his tracks. Was this some sort of ambush? He really wasn’t in the mood for a showdown with Jacqueline. He’d had enough aggro for one day. He hesitated outside, contemplating turning around and leaving. He could ring Jonathan and make some excuse, say something had come up unexpectedly. But he’d feel like a shit if he did that. He knew Jonathan meant well and just wanted everyone to get along. He
might as well get it over with. Squaring his shoulders, he opened the door and went inside.
He was about to give his name to the maître d’ when Jonathan spotted him, waving at him from a table across the room. Luca was surprised to see that he was alone and seated at a table for two. He still approached the table warily.
‘Hi, Luca.’ Jonathan greeted him with a smile and stood to give him a quick hug.
‘Hi,’ Luca said, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘Where’s Jacqueline?’ he asked, as he pulled out the chair and sat opposite.
‘Jacqueline?’ Jonathan frowned. ‘I think she’s at her book club tonight,’ he said vaguely.
‘Oh. I saw her car outside …’
‘Ah, right. Mine’s in the garage, so I’ve been driving hers this week.’
Luca relaxed, relieved that his mother wasn’t going to be joining them.