Modern Heart: City Love 3 Page 23

  “What are you saying?”

  “You did what you had to do.”

  “But it wasn’t what you thought I should do,” I persisted.

  “No,” he said simply.

  I directed my gaze out the small window overlooking the street. I watched a car drive past until the red tail lights disappeared into the distance. It was more than I could have hoped for, I supposed. That they had even supported my art this much was a complete surprise.

  I couldn’t expect to change them, nor did I want to, I realized. That would be hypocritical of me. They’d spent my entire childhood trying to change me when all I’d ever really wanted was acceptance. So I’d taken the classes I’d hated, done what I thought would make them happy, and I’d been miserable.

  Now my picture was hanging on their bedroom wall and I finally understood it wasn’t acceptance that was so important after all. It was being myself.

  My mother bustled in, carrying a tray with three cups of tea. She set it down on the small cane coffee table. I hadn’t even put my cup to my lips before my mother started in on me again.

  “You talk to John?”

  I made her wait until I’d taken a sip before I replied. “No.”

  “Crazy girl. He good for you.”

  I put the tea down on the table carefully. “And you know this how?”

  “He light. You shade. You out of harmony without each other.”

  “That’s an interesting observation, mother.” I took another drink of tea to hide how much her comment bothered me.

  “Same as me and your father.”

  I choked on my tea. “I’m not really sure how you can compare you and Bàba to me and John.”

  “Why not? Think how scary I be without your father to balance me.”

  I stared at her over the top of my cup. Was she making fun of herself? Her expression was perfectly serious but when I glanced over at Bàba he was smiling into his drink. Good God. If this was her not being scary, I dreaded to think how scary she’d been before her and my father met.

  “I’m really not sure I want to talk about my relationship with you.”

  “So stop talking to me,” she said.

  She drank from the cup, looking past me out the window. I met my father’s eyes. They were watchful.

  I stood up abruptly. “I’m sorry, Bàba. I need to go now, but I’ll call again and try to see you later in the weekend.”

  He nodded knowingly while I scooped up my things to go.

  I didn’t say goodbye to my mother. It was bad enough I was taking her advice. If I actually admitted to it, then I’d never hear the end of it.

  Honestly, though, right now I didn’t care.

  I needed to go and see John.

  Chapter 33

  Back in the car, the first thing I did was pick up Big Ideas magazine and flick quickly to page fourteen.

  My stomach dropped. Oh shit. It was the “Industry Insider” column. A regular feature, this column got up close and personal with advertising and marketing professionals. Each week a new person was interviewed by the magazine. The questions didn’t follow a fixed format, but were adapted depending on the person. And the worst bit? The subject of the column wasn’t the person who was actually interviewed. The person interviewed was usually a co-worker, boss, or the partner of the advertising or marketing professional, with the aim of dishing out the real story about the subject.

  Actually, strike that. The worst bit was that “Industry Insider” had developed an almost cult-like following within the industry. It was gossip fodder in our offices and Shout staff could regularly be heard discussing the latest subject, or rather, victim.

  There was no way I’d ever have agreed to it if John had asked. Hopefully it wasn’t as bad as I feared. If it had made my boss do a complete turnaround, it couldn’t be that bad. Could it?

  I took a deep breath and read.

  John Hart. Welcome to “Industry Insider.” A little birdie told us you’re in a relationship with the infamous Scarlett Wong, Creative Director at Shout. For those of you who haven’t heard of Ms. Wong’s reputation, she’s talented, having won a number of industry awards, but she’s also one tough cookie. She’s rumored to have a tongue sharp enough to impale lesser Shout employees and is known as something of an exhibitionist, demonstrating her point with nudity on occasion. So tell us, John, rumor or fact?

  Well, I don’t work with Scarlett so I can’t comment directly on that.

  Alright, John. Fess up. Are you scared of your girlfriend?

  (laughs) Only in a good way.

  But when we contacted you about doing this interview, you didn’t want to do it, did you?

  No.

  And why is that?

  She’ll kill me (laughs again).

  If that’s the case, why did you agree?

  Because after I thought about it I realized it would be a good opportunity to tell the world about her artwork. And although I know I’m definitely going to pay for this later, I wanted her to know how incredibly proud I am of all that she’s achieved.

  OK, John. We’re intrigued. What’s this about her artwork?

  As well as being Creative Director at Shout, Scarlett is also a very talented portraiture artist. She was recently selected by the renowned Julian Escrow Gallery in New York for an exhibition in May, and she’s currently being featured in another exhibition at Doherty’s here in Sydney during July.

  Wow, so she’s leading a double life? How come this is the first we’ve heard about it?

  Scarlett is very driven professionally. In the past she’s tried to keep her art separate from her job in advertising.

  But why, John? Surely Scarlett should be shouting her talent out to the industry. And this woman is not shy. We don’t get it?

  No, Scarlett’s not shy, but she can be a very private person. It’s what attracted me to her.

  Ah, you like a woman with a bit of mystery then?

  (smiles) Not mystery so much. More like depth.

  Does her depth include her ability to resort to nudity to make her point?

  (laughs again) I’m hardly going to have a problem with that, am I? She’s never resorted to nudity to make a point with me, but I have taken all my clothes off for her.

  Boring, John! You’re her boyfriend. Is that all you’ve got?

  Sorry, what I actually meant was that I let her paint me nude.

  Well, readers, I’ve got to say Scarlett Wong is one very smart lady. I’m sitting opposite John and the idea of him naked is rather distracting (don’t hate me, Scarlett). So if she hasn’t resorted to nudity to make her point with you, what has she resorted to?

  (Pauses) She might have almost drowned while trying to prove me wrong once …

  Details, John, details.

  (grins) Sorry. I’m a semi-professional surfer and Scarlett used to be a competitive swimmer during her teenage years. I’m also over six foot and Scarlett’s kind of tiny. Stupidly I made the mistake of doubting her ability one day and she made a point of challenging me to a swim in the surf.

  But she almost drowned?

  Yes. Only after she beat me though. The conditions were really rough that day. I know some people might think that was pretty stupid of her, and I was angry at the time, but I’m also in complete awe of her. The thing is, she trained professionally in the pool. She hates the ocean, but she took on those waves without hesitation. I’m sure at several points she was scared but she didn’t flinch. She was amazing.

  Wow. Remind me not to challenge her. So how do you live with a woman like that?

  Quite easily. I’ve always wanted a partner who challenges me.

  It must get pretty fiery in your household then?

  (laughs) Only in a good way.

  So John, tell us: what do you love most about Scarlett Wong?

  Too many things to list: her passion, fearlessness, creativity. (grins) Her boldness. She’s like no one else I’ve ever known.

  Scarlett, be nice to John, you hear? If
you don’t love him for this, we certainly do! So John, last question. What do you think it is about Scarlett that makes her so successful?

  Her combination of being artistic but incredibly down-to-earth at the same time. She has this rare ability to translate creativity into something practical. In her advertising role, this means she delivers on client objectives while giving them memorable, and often award-winning, creative. Tony Ridge, Shout’s CEO, obviously recognized this in her.

  Well, folks. You heard it here first. Scarlett Wong convinces boyfriend to pose nude, almost drowns to prove her point, and is a talented artist. That’s the sort of passion and creativity we like to see in this industry. She’s definitely one to watch and Shout is lucky to have her. You can also see a selection of her artwork this month at Doherty’s in Surry Hills, Sydney. And sorry, gang, John may have posed nude but I couldn’t convince him to show us the finished product. Come on, Scarlett, we’re dying of anticipation. When is it going to be on show?

  I lowered the magazine onto my lap and let out a long breath. Holy shit. Drowning story and nude portraiture aside, John had done a fantastic PR job. He’d plugged my art career and set it up so that Tony would look like an idiot to fire me. I could have kissed him.

  Correction. I needed to kiss him. Now.

  And I needed to say I was an idiot and I was sorry. There was that too.

  I started the car and sped off in the direction of John’s apartment.

  Chapter 34

  It was a miracle I wasn’t pulled over by the police on the drive to John’s. Not only was I in a hurry to get there, I wasn’t really focusing on the road because words from the magazine interview kept going through my mind.

  Talented. Fearless. Passionate.

  Then my mind would twist the words: Stubborn. Proud. Stupid. Distrustful.

  I was all of those things too.

  My mother’s words came unbidden into my head. He light. You shade. You out of harmony without each other.

  And the truly scary thing was – she was right.

  I could be stubborn, proud, stupid, and distrustful. But with John by my side those qualities became less dominant because he challenged me to be the best version of myself. When that happened I was occasionally amazing, talented, fearless, and passionate.

  Finally pulling up in front of John’s, I parked hurriedly and dashed to the front entrance. Another person was leaving so I slipped through the door at the same time.

  John’s apartment complex was very different to mine and it highlighted my mother’s point about me being yin and him being yang. His complex was a low-rise development only three levels high, with four separate buildings. John’s was located at the back overlooking the meandering gardens. I navigated the winding path lit by small garden lights until I reached the front of his place. The light was on in his lounge room and it cast a warm glow across the balcony.

  Relief flooded through me. I wasn’t sure what I would have done if he wasn’t home.

  I was about to take the last few steps to his front door when a movement in the lounge room caught my eye.

  John walked to the far side of the room where a tall lamp lit the corner of the room. He was talking to someone.

  Damn it.

  The last thing I needed was for him to have company.

  I hesitated, then openly gaped like some sort of desperate stalker when a woman stepped into the room to join him. Annoyingly, I couldn’t see her properly because she was in the shadows.

  Instinctively I stepped back so I was partly obscured by a hedge. I watched them with my heart pounding, stalker tendencies be damned.

  It was probably just his mother, I reasoned. Or maybe his sister. They wouldn’t mind if I interrupted.

  John still appeared to be talking. I couldn’t see the expression on his face, but from this distance it looked as if he was explaining something. His movements were relaxed.

  The woman stepped into the light and I felt the first frisson of fear.

  I couldn’t see her face, only her back. She came up to his shoulder and had long brown hair halfway to her waist.

  It definitely wasn’t his sister or his mother.

  Just a friend, surely?

  I continued to watch, unable to move. I knew I should just take the few steps forward and knock on the front door, like a sane, balanced person, but I couldn’t.

  The woman had to be talking now. John was focused on her, his lips not moving.

  Then she stepped toward him. She was too close. She was in his personal space and I wanted to jump in between to put some distance between them. He opened his arms and she stepped into them. His arms encircled her. He rested his chin on the top of her head.

  Even from a distance they looked far too comfortable. Like the embrace was natural.

  Fear gripped my chest. Accuse me of jumping to conclusions but there was only one person it had to be.

  His ex-wife.

  He wouldn’t cheat on me, I knew that much. He was the most loyal, dependable man I’d ever known, and his marriage had ended for that very reason. The only problem was that standing in the shadows, peering in at them like a creepy person, it sure as hell didn’t feel like that. All I could see was another woman surrounded by those strong arms. Another woman who he might care about more than me. They had a history together. They’d loved each other enough to get married. And what was I? The unstable rebound chick. He was bound to tire of me eventually.

  They were still holding each other.

  Damn it. I’d had enough. This situation was far too frightening to stand here contemplating. It didn’t matter that I’d been prowling in the shadows watching them or that he wasn’t expecting me. I needed to know.

  I jumped out from behind the bush and marched toward the front door. I pounded on it three times.

  I waited, barely able to breathe.

  “Scarlett?”

  John’s face was surprised when he opened the door. If I’d been slightly less worked up I might have noticed there was no trace of guilt.

  “Who is she?” I demanded hoarsely.

  He frowned. “Scarlett—”

  “Just tell me, John.”

  He blinked. “Elise. It’s Elise.”

  “Are you going to invite me in?”

  His eyes darkened. “It’s not a good time.”

  Shock rendered me speechless for moment, then I caught hold of myself. I crossed my arms. “So I can’t come in?”

  “No.”

  I let out a surprised huff. “What is this, John?”

  “It’s personal.”

  “So personal that it was appropriate to embrace your ex-wife?”

  His grip tightened on the edge of the door. “You were watching us?”

  “Your blinds weren’t closed,” I shot back defensively.

  A muscle twitched in his jaw. “No. They weren’t.”

  “So, do you want to tell me why the sudden touchy feely reunion with your ex?”

  He looked at me for a long time, until I started to become uncomfortable.

  I raised an eyebrow at him. Damned if I was going to back down.

  “Our dog died. She got him in the divorce.”

  I stared at him. Not only was that the last explanation I was expecting, it was almost laughable. Almost.

  “Do you have a problem with that?” he asked.

  Shit. This was so not going the way I planned. “John—”

  “What?” He narrowed his eyes at me. “You’re sorry for my loss?”

  I resisted stepping back. I’d stuffed things up so badly. Beyond badly. I’d come here tonight to tell him I was sorry and that I loved him and somehow I’d ended up standing on his doorstep accusing him of what? Embracing his ex?

  “John—” I tried again.

  “You know what? Forget it. I’m not in the mood for your dramatics tonight and I’ve got company. Make of that what you will. I’ll catch you later, Scarlett.”

  To his credit, he didn’t slam the door in my face bu
t he did close it firmly.

  I stared at the door for a moment longer. I deserved that, and so much more.

  Numbly, I turned and made my way through the gardens back to my car.

  I had no idea how I was going to set things straight. All I knew was that I’d managed to turn the nicest, most decent guy into someone who slammed doors in girls’ faces. Or almost slammed them anyway.

  *

  When I got home, I sat nursing a glass of wine. Not drinking it, mind you.

  I needed to think and I couldn’t do that with alcohol muddying my thoughts. It was a step forward for me in the maturity stakes, but I wasn’t in the mood to celebrate.

  After half an hour of staring out the window and only two sips of wine, I picked up my phone. It wasn’t the way I wanted to do it, but I had to start somewhere. I typed a message.

  John. I came to your place to say I’m sorry. It didn’t go quite as I planned.

  I hit send. To my surprise, I got a reply a minute later.

  You have a funny way of saying sorry.

  I blew out a long breath. Hey, at least he was talking to me.

  I know. I guess I just saw you with her and I reacted. Badly. Again, I’m sorry.

  I hit send. This had to be a record for me. I couldn’t recall saying sorry more than once in any one conversation and I was up to two times. It took a while before his next reply came through.

  Thanks for saying you’re sorry. I still think we have bigger problems.

  I closed my eyes. It was a bitter irony. I’d spent my entire adult life avoiding relationships and now I finally wanted to be in relationship and look how it was turning out. I still hadn’t told him I loved him. It wouldn’t be right to tell him this way, it would come across as a knee jerk reaction and it wasn’t like that at all. I hit reply.

  Can we talk? In person.

  I waited, then opened his response when it arrived.

  Maybe. I’ll call you after soccer tomorrow morning.

  I put down the phone, my hand shaking. It was something.

  But would it be enough?

  Chapter 35

  There was nothing for it. I’d called an emergency meeting. If my girlfriends thought it was strange that I was actively seeking their help and opening up to them about my problems, then they had the maturity not to say anything. Instead, they all agreed without hesitation to breakfast at Ripples under the Harbour Bridge.