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Jen had no time to reply as a voice in the passing crowd blurted, ‘Oh my God, is that Alison Rae?’ A young woman stopped in her tracks, her friends following suit. ‘Oh my God, it is. Can I get a photo?’
A flicker of annoyance tripped over Alison’s features, but her professional face won out, the mask falling into place in a heartbeat. ‘Hey, hi. Yeah, of course.’
As Alison got into position, the woman’s camera phone angled towards her best game face, Jen took her chance.
‘I’ve got this,’ Jen said to Chloe as she stepped out from the safety of her best friend. ‘I’ll save you any confusion, Alison. There is no hope in hell that I’ll open a bar with you. Or get back together with you. Or want to breathe the same air as you, ever again.’
Alison’s face went blank. She was either wounded beyond response, searching for a good comeback, or wondering how to play this in front of a fan. Probably a bit of all three.
Whatever it was, the moment was perfectly captured on camera.
Her fan didn’t know what to do with herself. Jen felt a bit guilty at centring her in the crosshairs of their argument but she couldn’t let the opportunity pass.
Alison mumbled her apologies with a smile.
But Jen wasn’t done.
‘Don’t worry, I’m her ex,’ she offered as explanation to the poor woman. ‘You’re a mess, Alison. These people think you’ve got it all together, but you’re nothing special. Don’t ever talk to me again.’
Alison’s mouth hung open, torn between Jen and her fan. Once again, work was taking precedence. Nothing had changed.
When she still hadn’t spoken, Jen turned on her heel, linking arms with Chloe.
‘Fuck you, Alison,’ Jen shouted, flipping her the bird over her shoulder.
Safely across the road, she pulled out her phone and called Holly again. Straight to voicemail.
Tomorrow. Everything would be sorted tomorrow.
