private members club Lola had only ever dreamed of visiting, but now Toby was offering something more.
Life just wasn’t fair.
‘Come on.’ Toby’s tone was cajoling. ‘It’s only for a week. You can take a week off work, can’t you? EJ, work your magic on this girl, make her say yes.’
There were people in this room so famous they’d make your head spin, and rumours swirling around that Bono was going to be dropping in later. If that happened, Lola knew her head would swivel right off.
‘Say yes,’ EJ joined in. ‘It’ll be fantastic. If I can take a week off, surely you can too.’
Toby already had a party of ten friends flying out in the firstweek of April to stay at his villa on St Kitts. Evidently it was large enough to accommodate two more. From the sound of things it could hold another twenty. And the people joining Toby and his girlfriend were all major players in the music business. Lola would be practically the only civilian. Just the thought of sunbathing around the pool in the company of singers with triple platinum albums to their names was almost too exciting to bear.
‘Go on,’ Toby added with a persuasive wink, ‘you know you want to.’
Lola bit her lip; of course she wanted to, more than anything. Imagine Robbie Williams asking if she’d mind rubbing suncream into his shoulders .. .
Oh God, this was torture. ‘I have to check the staff rota. I’m not sure if I can take the time off.’
‘Couldn’t you just phone in at the last minute,’ said Toby, ‘and tell the boss you’ve got flu?’
Wouldn’t that be nice?
‘Except I am the boss.’ Lola pulled a face. ‘And I wouldn’t believe me. I’m always suspicious when people phone in with a croaky voice and tell me they have flu.’
Toby said, ‘Or when they ring in with a croaky voice to tell you they’ve sprained an ankle.’
‘What I really hate,’ said EJ, ‘is when we’re recording an album and they phone up with a croaky voice to tell me they’ve got a croaky voice.’
Lola’s heart sank as he grinned his quirky, lopsided grin. He was such good company, the kind of person anyone would love to have as a friend. And he had buckets of money ... why, why couldn’t she look at him and feel a frisson of lust?
But there you go, she couldn’t and that was that. She wasn’t being fair to him. Checking her watch, Lola saw that it was midnight and she had to be at work by eight tomorrow morning. It was time to do what she had to do. She touched EJ’s arm and said, ‘I need to get home. If you want to stay on, I can get a cab.’
But EJ was far too much of a gentleman to do that. He shook his head and put down his orange juice. ‘It’s OK. I’m pretty shattered too.’
They said their goodbyes to Toby and his friends. As EJ drove back to Notting Hill, he told her more about Toby’s villa on St Kitts, about the view over Half Moon Bay, the golf course, the scuba diving, the spectacular Black Rocks
‘I’m sorry,’ Lola blurted out, ‘I can’t go.’
‘Don’t say that. You haven’t checked with work yet.’
Her fingernails dug into her palms as she squeezed her fists tight. ‘It’s not work.’
‘No?’ EJ pulled up at traffic lights, glanced sideways at her. ‘Is it the plane tickets? Because that’s not a problem. I’ll pay for those.’
The lights from the Burger King opposite were reflecting off his glasses. He was such a thoughtful person. Mental images of Half Moon Bay floated tantalisingly in front of Lola —
tropical palms, a glittering turquoise ocean, herself tanned and magically thinner than usual in a pink bikini .. .
‘OK, here’s the thing.’ Gearing herself up, Lola wished he could be driving the battered old Fiesta tonight; she didn’t want to be responsible for him pranging his beloved Lamborghini. ‘EJ, I really like you but we’re going to have to stop seeing each other.’ The lights changed and they moved forward; flinching and praying he wouldn’t go careering into the bus ahead of them, she said hastily, ‘But you’re a fantastic person.’
EJ remained in control of the Lamborghini. Drily he said, ‘But not quite fantastic enough.’
‘Oh, don’t say that! I’m sorry! It’s not you, it’s me, I just — mind that cyclist!’
‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to hit the cyclist.’
‘But I don’t want you to be upset.’
‘Lola, it’s OK. It’s not your fault.’ He steered skilfully around a couple of drunks staggering across the road, then indicated left and pulled into a side street. ‘Would it help at all if I said I’d kind of guessed this might be coming?’
The streetlights illuminated the angles of his face. Behind the spectacles Lola glimpsed sadness mixed with stoicism. They’d never even slept together.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. ‘You’re so nice ...’
‘I know I am. I also know I’m not the world’s best looking guy, but I was kind of hoping to win you over with my brilliant personality.’ He shot her a lopsided smile, seemingly able to read her mind. ‘That’s why I never tried to get you into bed, in case you were wondering. Because I knew you hadn’t reached the stage yet where you really wanted to. I thought if I was patient ... well, that the right time would come along and everything would be perfect. But there was always the risk that you’d bale out before it had a chance to happen.’ He pulled a wry face. ‘And guess what? I was right, you’re baling out. Maybe I’m psychic.’
‘But you’ve slept with so many incredible girls,’ Lola protested. ‘Famous ones! Loads more glamorous than me!’
‘Maybe I have.’ He shrugged, half smiled. ‘Maybe they don’t mean so much.’
