Virtually Perfect (15 page)

Eve watched him step into the entrance.  He turned back to her. 

'Are you coming in?'

'...No, no!' she gasped, suddenly remembering herself.  'We can't!' 

She grabbed his hand, tried to pull him away.  She found that he wouldn't budge.  She felt his fingers tighten around hers, saw a smile play on his lips.  With a yank, he pulled against him. 

'Relax,' he grinned. He swept a dark thread of hair from her eyes.  'I'm a member.'

Eve watched him reach out, push the frosted glass door open.  He put his hand on her shoulder.  She stared at the floor as he steered her inside.

Eve walked through the bar quickly, gaze fixed on her shoes.  She slid onto the red leather sofa in the far corner, her back against the wall.

'Seems appropriate,' said Ben, nodding to the artwork above her head. 

She glanced up. 

Fucking beautiful
flashed down in neon pink letters.

He slid off his jacket, slipping it onto the back of the chair.  He sat opposite her, resting his forearms on the round oak table.

'You've come a long way since your
Gigalum
days,' smirked Eve.

'A little bit,' said Ben, with a smile. 

He rubbed his head.  Eve watched him pick up the wine list.

'Would you like that Champagne now?' he asked her. 

Eve shook her head. 

You could have paid for her outfit twice over for the price of one bottle.

'Please,' she heard him say.  'They don't sell it by the glass... and I doubt very much that I'd qualify as a fantastic drunk.'

He'd taken her there to impress her, she realised.

'OK then,' Eve said quietly.

She saw the waiter approaching out of the corner of her eye. 

'...I'm just going to pop to the ladies.'

Eve paused in front of the hand basins, staring at her reflection in the gilt edged mirror.  She'd dreamed so many times of being back here.  It felt nothing like she'd imagined.  Her fingertips drifted across her face.  All the Touche Éclat in the world wasn't going to fix that frown line.  She needed to tell Ben now.  They were just one 'Hello' away from him finding out.  She'd always known he was going to drop her.

She sat across from him. 

He smiled, took the bottle from the ice bucket, poured her a glass. 

Krug. 

He was really pushing the boat out. 

Ben slid the bowl of olives towards her.

'Are you hungry?'

Eve looked at them, then back up, shaking her head. 

Eve really liked him.  It was such a shame.  She lifted the flute, taking a quaff.  She smiled, putting her hand to her nose.  The bubbles were tickling her.

'Listen,' she said, taking another sip, leaning forward.  'There's something I need to say...'

She suddenly looked very serious. 

Ben felt his sphincter retract. 

Here we go...

He looked down at the table.

'Go on...'

He leant in on his elbows, avoiding eye contact.  He took another swig of Champagne.

There was silence. 

When he glanced back to Eve, he found her face to the table, white fingers congregated across her brow.

'It can't be...' came a shrill voice from behind.  'Oh my God, it is!' 

He saw Eve flinch. 

Eve looked up.  The blood had drained from her face.

'Felicity!  How lovely to see you!'

Eve flashed a smile that looked straight out of Soundgarden's Black Hole Sun.  She was beyond uncomfortable; Ben knew it.  He turned to the source of her displeasure. 

His eyes settled on the brunette leaning in over them, honing in on her thick-rimmed, rectangular glasses.

'I can't believe it's you!' she gushed at Eve. 

She didn't even notice Ben sitting there.

'Lovely to see you,' Ben heard Eve respond.  He turned to her; watched the forced smile grow wider and wider. 

He'd met Felicity Doodah, something or other, before.  She was one of the bigwigs, at Faber & Faber. 

He'd never dealt with her.  He always dealt with...

'How long have you been back?'

Ben's eyes widened.  Eve saw his gaze flick to her.  He frowned.

...He'd always dealt with
Roger Blake.

His eyes were searching her, looking for him. 

Eve caught it.  She'd have to tell him now.

She looked up at Felicity.

'...Oh, a little while now.'

Can't you just fuck off and leave us alone...

Ben's gaze dropped to the table.

Roger can't be her dad...

Eve watched Ben gulp at his Champagne. 

He looked at her.  He stared into those big, dark eyes.

Jesus...  I've been screwing his daughter.

He picked up his glass again.

Eve reached out.  Her fingertips gently touched his, guided his glass back to the table.  Ben looked up her.  She gently shook her head.

'The last I heard of you,' he heard Felicity Doodah say.  'You were in the Caribbean.'

Eve was growing tired of the invasion.  She turned and fixed Felicity's stare.

'I've never been to the Caribbean,' she said, flatly.  'I think you mean Hawaii.'

'Oh yes,' she said, 'of course...  Well it's lovely to see you anyway,' said Felicity.  'I'm sure Roger must be very glad to have you home.'

Ben looked up.  It was crystallised.

Thanks a sodding bunch...

'Nice to see you Felicity,' Ben watched Eve say through her teeth.  Felicity leant in.  He watched Eve kiss the air.

They looked at each other.  Eve drained her glass.  Ben poured her another, instantly draining his.

'I'll get them to call us a cab.'

It was raining outside.  Eve dashed out to the taxi.  Ben held the door open, then darted around to the other side.

'Park Lane please, mate,' he said, wiping the rain from his face. 

The cab pulled away down Deans Street.  Ben turned to Eve.  He found her staring.  She looked like she was going to burst into tears.

'...I was going to tell you,' she murmured. 

He shuffled across the stained velour seat, slipping his arm around her.  Eve watched the rain smattering against the window, people with umbrellas strolling along, people without running for cover.

'I know you were,' said Ben.  He smiled at her, squeezing her shoulder.  'It doesn't matter anyway.'

'I know you worked with him,' she admitted.  'I know you did the shots for one of his covers.'

She watched Ben shake his head.

'I didn't do the shots for one of his covers,' he said.  'I did the shots for lots of them.'

Before Ben became established, before the offers came flooding in, there was a long while there where the work from Faber & Faber was the only thing keeping a roof over his head.

'I'm not going to sit here and slate him,' said Ben.  'I can't.  I don't have a bad word to say.  Look, you say you've fallen out with him, you obviously have your reasons—'

'I do.'

Ben looked at her; into her fierce black eyes.

'Then that's good enough.  Look, whatever happened between you—'

'I don't want to talk about it.'

'Well, anytime that you do—'

'I don't.'

He grabbed her hand and squeezed it.

'OK, OK, I get it.  I'm just trying to say, whatever went on, I'm with you.  I'm on your side...  Eve, this is your weekend, let's not spoil it, hey?  I just want you to be happy.'

Eve forced a smile and squeezed his hand.  Ben smiled back, then looked out of the window.

He did feel a bit of a dick.  Of all the bars in all of Soho, he had to take her to that one.  The one co-owned by her own dad.  No wonder she'd been dragging her feet.  Imagine if he'd been in? 
Oh hello Roger, nice to see you... 
It didn't bear thinking about. 

He'd been treating her like the poor relation. 
You can drive my car... 
Ben thought back and cringed.  All he'd been looking at were the
Savers
labels, but the signs had been there all along.  From
Souk
, to the way she stuck out her pinkie when she sipped her coffee.  She had a coffee service, for crying out loud.  She might not have much money now, but she'd grown up with plenty.  Roger owned a Silver Ghost.  She should have been off with the Chelsea hooray henrys, but for some reason, she'd turned her back on all that.  For some reason, she was with him.

She hadn't raved about the earrings.  She was still wearing them though.  She sure did like that bear.  She had her arm wrapped around the silver plastic bag, cuddled up in her lap.  She looked at Ben and smiled.

When they arrived back in their room, Mr Bojangles was waiting.  He chirruped and rubbed Eve's shins as she struggled to remove her boots.  She heaved them off, breathing a sigh of relief.  Her feet were killing her.

'What would you like to do now?' asked Eve.  Ben held Bo in his arms, Bo's white underbelly facing the ceiling.  He didn't seem to mind.  Eve held out a hand and rubbed behind Bo's ear.  He was purring like a pneumatic drill.

'I think I might go for a swim.'

Eve crinkled her nose.  She didn't have a swimsuit, only a faded Rip Curl bikini, hardly appropriate for a place like this.  Then it dawned on her.  She wasn't exactly invited.

'Is your back still hurting?' he asked, looking up.

'A little bit.' 

It was killing her.

'There's a spa upstairs,' said Ben.

'Oh no, it's ok.'

Was she just being polite, was she worried about the bill, or did she genuinely not want to go? 

Ben remembered the 'thank you' that morning, when they first arrived; the smile that went with it.  If he'd suggested going to
The Four Seasons
, she would have refused in a heartbeat.  She would have meant it too.  But when they walked through the door, her face just lit up.  She'd been beaming all day.  Well, most of it, anyway.

'Go and get a massage,' he said.  'It's all included anyway.'

Eve was watching him.

She got it.  He wanted to get rid of her.  She could feel him pulling away.

'I'll just wait here,' she told him.  'Watch TV.  I've never had a massage before.  I wouldn't really know what to do.'

Ben laughed.

'You don't
do
anything.  You just relax...  Really?  You've never had one?'

Up until an hour ago, she doubted that would have seemed so surprising.

'No,' she told him flatly.

'That's settled then,' said Ben.  'You've got to have one now.'

He called up whilst Eve was taking a shower.  He made sure they gave her whatever treatments she wanted.  He made sure it was charged to the room.

Eve wandered past Audrey Hepburn and Grace Kelly in a daze, slipping her keycard into her pocket.  She felt self-conscious shuffling around in her dressing gown and slippers, but  Ben insisted that was the done thing. 

She stepped into the lift and pressed 10, just like he'd said.  She looked into the mirror.  There were circles under her eyes.  She wished they'd never gone to
The Groucho
.  She wished Felicity had kept her big mouth shut.  She'd be blabbing about it first thing on Monday, what was her dad going to think?  She'd wanted to go there for a little while now.  A couple of times recently she'd thought about picking up the phone.  But it had to be in her time, on her terms.  Not like that.  She'd never dreamt it would happen like that.

She hated the distance it had created between her and Ben.  A perfect day, a perfect weekend, lay in ruins.  She remembered sitting in the booth in Room 51, the way he'd looked at her.  Now he kept studying her, weighing her up; looking at her like a stranger.

Ben lay on the sofa, listening to the rain, the screen of his mobile lighting up his face.  He opened his internet browser, staring at the Google homepage, thumb hovering over the 'e' on his keypad.

You can find out a lot about someone on Google.  It can tell you a breathtaking amount about who they are.  From their work profile to their Facebook page, a quick search can reveal all of their associates, friends, even family; whether Bob's their uncle or Fanny's their aunt.  You could build them a family tree, if you wanted to.  They might not appreciate it, but you could.  You can find out what they've done with their life, where they've been.  Where they've worked, where they studied; if you really know what you're doing, you can find out everywhere they ever lived.  Whether they own their own home, who with, whether it's mortgaged, what it cost - it's all up for public viewing.  It can tell you plenty about who they are and what they've done.  What it won't ever tell you is why.