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‘No, networking,’ said Dom. ‘I mean, you were features editor of a national newspaper at twenty–six, so it’s not for lack of talent, but that’s not enough on its own. You need to get close to the people who can help you up the ladder.’
Tess briefly thought of her one–night stand with the Globe’s chief exec, the break that had really got her career moving, and turned away, feeling herself flush.
‘Tess, come on,’ insisted Dom, not unkindly. ‘You’ve got to start being a player if we’re going to get on over here.’
And there it was again – ‘we’. The truth was that Dom wasn’t concerned about Tess’s career or how much she enjoyed her job; he was talking about his own position in the media world, what Tess could do for him. It was a side of Dom she had always tried to ignore in the past, hoping it was just youthful insecurity, but over the years his bitterness at his own advancement seemed to have increased. She bit her lip, for a moment remembering their night in London at the launch. How handsome Dom had looked; how charming and attentive he had been. How mind–blowingly fantastic the sex had been. And how excited she had been over the last two weeks at the thought of him getting a visa. There was no question that she loved him. But at times like this she wondered if she actually liked him?
Suddenly her thoughts were disturbed by the doorbell.
‘Expecting someone?’ asked Dom.
‘No?’ said Tess, shaking her head. There was a sudden unpleasant note in his voice. What was he implying? That she was constantly on call, or that she was used to having ‘gentleman callers’? Either way, it wasn’t nice.
‘Oh hang on … ’ she said with a slight groan.
Tess ran down the four flights to the front door and, as she had expected, she found Jack Donavan, her eleven–year–old admirer, standing there slurping on a 7 Up. The kid had been ‘popping round’ with alarming frequency over the past few weeks. Tess did actually enjoy his company, he was funny and opinionated and actually very bright, but she already had a flatmate, she didn’t need another lodger.
‘Hi,’ said Jack, taking the straw out of his mouth. ‘Can I come in?’
She winced. ‘Actually, my boyfriend’s here. I told you he was coming last week, remember?’
‘Cool, I can meet him?’ said Jack, ignoring the hint and pushing past her.
She followed him up the stairs and just reached the lounge as Dom looked up, startled. ‘Er, hello … ’ he said.
‘Hiya,’ said Jack confidently, offering his hand to Dom. ‘I’m Jack, Tess has told me all about you. I’m not disturbing anything, am I? My mum was supposed to be coming but she phoned to say she’s gonna be a couple of hours late. My dad is painting my bedroom and the place stinks.’
‘Jack,’ smiled Tess quickly. ‘Go grab yourself something from the kitchen.’
‘Cool. Just gonna use the bathroom first.’
Dom’s face was a mixture of horror and outrage. ‘Who the hell is that?’
‘Just some kid that lives down the street,’ said Tess, blushing.
‘And? What’s he doing here?’
‘His dad is single parent,’ said Tess keeping her low voice. ‘He pops round every now and then when it gets a bit much at home.’
‘So you’re telling me you have a little kid coming round to your house all the time?’ he said incredulously. Tess found herself bristling, feeling strangely protective of the boy. Okay, so Jack’s unannounced visits could be a little irritating when she had so few spare hours in the week to herself; last week he had appeared seconds before she was about to step out of the door to get a pedicure. But he was just a kid. A smartarse with a little too much lip, sure, but he was still a kid who had problems at home and needed sanctuary from them every now and then.
‘He’s funny,’ said Tess, ‘and I feel sorry for him. His dad’s struggling to keep him at home, I think. I
don’t think they have much money.’
‘Oh yes? And how much do you see of his dad?’ said Dom sulkily.
‘Oh for goodness’ sake, Dom,’ said Tess. ‘Stop being so stupid. I’ve met his dad twice – in the street.’
Dom snorted. ‘It just seems a bit weird.’
‘What’s weird about it?’ she asked, beginning to lose patience.
‘Tess, you’ve come to New York to mix with people like the Billingtons, even the Asgills, not single–parent labourers and their tearaway sons.’
Tess gaped at him with disbelief. ‘Dom, you are the most frightful snob sometimes.’
‘Snob?’ laughed Dom. ‘You’re a fine one to talk, setting up dinner at Per Se tomorrow.’
