had to explain with surprising regularity, was not romantic but a sadistic exercise in sexual frustration. What he didn’t like was having to make conversation with a girl the morning after – a few days, a week after, that was fine. They were less likely to be clingy then, or uncomfortably affectionate. Or if they were, it didn’t matter – he wasn’t close by.
He was pretty sure he was safe with Zoë though. He knew exactly who she was and how she was before Jess had introduced them. That is, he’d seen her picture in the papers with an impressive line-up of blokes and the only thing these blokes had in common was that the camera found them pretty damn pretty and they’d been replaced by someone equally photogenic the following week. He didn’t want to be one of them. Being snapped with Zoë and appearing in a Sunday supplement or a weekly gossip mag would make life unnecessarily complicated. It wasn’t just that he didn’t like the idea of being seen as an accessory, he also had the soap actress who wrongly thought herself his ‘girlfriend’ to consider.
So it was just a matter of finding the right time to leave. He’d been about to make a move when the phone rang, so he’d stayed to eavesdrop. Not that he considered it eaves dropping. His reasoning was that if Zoë didn’t want him to hear she would have taken the call elsewhere, and that she didn’t bother showed a kind of endearing self-absorption to which he could relate. It showed that Zoë knew the show was about Zoë. The conversation wasn’t, however. He hadn’t quite got the gist of it but it seemed that someone close to Zoë was involved in some project and had potentially incriminating pictures of the one and only Eve. When Zoë had finally lowered her voice he realised that she was talking to someone who knew who he was as well. While it was possible that they had mutual friends and acquaintances – the place was small, after all – there was really only one person it could be, especially considering Jack’s name had been mentioned. So it followed that Jess was up to no good. Once he’d escaped the gorgeous Zoë’s clutches, he decided to find out what was going on.
‘Zoë, honey, this has been nice, but I’ve gotta go,’ he said, before giving her a kiss and rolling out of bed.
‘Yeah, nice ,’ said Zoë sweetly, thinking, What the fuck does he mean by nice? Nice ? Nice didn’t come into it. She didn’tdo nice in bed. Kind sometimes, considerate maybe, but not nice .
Nice? Where the hell did that come from? Phil asked himself as he located the clothes that had been strewn around the room earlier. It was a lot of things but nice wasn’t one of them. Still, as sadly this was to be a once-only encounter, there was really no point dwelling on one badly chosen word.
He glanced at Zoë as he left. It was a shame.
Chapter 6
The following morning, having shaved off his goatee in favour of what he called a ‘stripe’, Phil stood at the window in his office. In one hand he held a cup of tepid coffee and in the other a pair of binoculars. Outside there was yet another cloudless sky and light breeze. Perfect weather for sailing – but it wasn’t to be. Not yet, anyway. He was going to have to hang around his desk for a few hours at least before heading out.
Phil’s office was large by Papyrus standards. Bookcases lined the walls, and manuscripts he wasn’t interested in reading, and was even less interested in picking up and moving, flooded the floor. He could have asked his assistant to tidy the place as, despite its size, it was beginning to feel cramped, but that would have given the impression he cared. It was an impression he wasn’t anxious to give. His assistant really did deserve a pay rise, however, as her hard work made his life easy. He made a mental note to speak to Hilary. Luckily, the way the poor girl looked would work in her favour for once – the yellowish skin that he hoped didn’t mean liver problems, the
He was pretty sure he was safe with Zoë though. He knew exactly who she was and how she was before Jess had introduced them. That is, he’d seen her picture in the papers with an impressive line-up of blokes and the only thing these blokes had in common was that the camera found them pretty damn pretty and they’d been replaced by someone equally photogenic the following week. He didn’t want to be one of them. Being snapped with Zoë and appearing in a Sunday supplement or a weekly gossip mag would make life unnecessarily complicated. It wasn’t just that he didn’t like the idea of being seen as an accessory, he also had the soap actress who wrongly thought herself his ‘girlfriend’ to consider.
So it was just a matter of finding the right time to leave. He’d been about to make a move when the phone rang, so he’d stayed to eavesdrop. Not that he considered it eaves dropping. His reasoning was that if Zoë didn’t want him to hear she would have taken the call elsewhere, and that she didn’t bother showed a kind of endearing self-absorption to which he could relate. It showed that Zoë knew the show was about Zoë. The conversation wasn’t, however. He hadn’t quite got the gist of it but it seemed that someone close to Zoë was involved in some project and had potentially incriminating pictures of the one and only Eve. When Zoë had finally lowered her voice he realised that she was talking to someone who knew who he was as well. While it was possible that they had mutual friends and acquaintances – the place was small, after all – there was really only one person it could be, especially considering Jack’s name had been mentioned. So it followed that Jess was up to no good. Once he’d escaped the gorgeous Zoë’s clutches, he decided to find out what was going on.
‘Zoë, honey, this has been nice, but I’ve gotta go,’ he said, before giving her a kiss and rolling out of bed.
‘Yeah, nice ,’ said Zoë sweetly, thinking, What the fuck does he mean by nice? Nice ? Nice didn’t come into it. She didn’tdo nice in bed. Kind sometimes, considerate maybe, but not nice .
Nice? Where the hell did that come from? Phil asked himself as he located the clothes that had been strewn around the room earlier. It was a lot of things but nice wasn’t one of them. Still, as sadly this was to be a once-only encounter, there was really no point dwelling on one badly chosen word.
He glanced at Zoë as he left. It was a shame.
Chapter 6
The following morning, having shaved off his goatee in favour of what he called a ‘stripe’, Phil stood at the window in his office. In one hand he held a cup of tepid coffee and in the other a pair of binoculars. Outside there was yet another cloudless sky and light breeze. Perfect weather for sailing – but it wasn’t to be. Not yet, anyway. He was going to have to hang around his desk for a few hours at least before heading out.
Phil’s office was large by Papyrus standards. Bookcases lined the walls, and manuscripts he wasn’t interested in reading, and was even less interested in picking up and moving, flooded the floor. He could have asked his assistant to tidy the place as, despite its size, it was beginning to feel cramped, but that would have given the impression he cared. It was an impression he wasn’t anxious to give. His assistant really did deserve a pay rise, however, as her hard work made his life easy. He made a mental note to speak to Hilary. Luckily, the way the poor girl looked would work in her favour for once – the yellowish skin that he hoped didn’t mean liver problems, the
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