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“I heard that, Drew.” The sound of a disgruntled female voice in the background makes me chuckle.
“Look… you’re busy, and I ought to be working too, so why don’t you come over to my place tonight? We’ll order in pizzas, and…”
“And you can tell me what’s wrong,” he says, finishing my sentence.
“Who says anything’s wrong?”
“I do… I’ll be over around six-thirty. Okay?”
He hangs up on me, just like Miles did… but in Drew’s case, I don’t mind in the slightest. I’m looking forward to seeing him. It eases the prospect of another night spent staring at the walls of my apartment, or taking work home, so I can pretend I’m too busy for the social life I don’t have anymore.
It’s closer to seven by the time my intercom buzzes. I let Drew in, although it takes another few minutes before the elevator doors open and he steps out directly into my apartment, or rather into the small lobby that leads to my apartment.
I have to smile… not because he’s late, but because looking at him is a little like looking in a mirror. Or it would be, if he didn’t have the beginnings of a beard, which is a significant difference to his usual clean-shaven appearance, and my carefully maintained stubble. Okay, so he’s also two inches shorter than I am, and his eyes are more milk chocolate than dark, but we both have a very similar build.
“Have you given up shaving?” I say as he pulls off his leather jacket, throwing it over the back of one of my couches. As usual, he’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and while there’s nothing wrong with that, he looks like he’s seen better days.
“Don’t.” He shakes his head, turning to me. “Just don’t. The agency I’m working for allocated me a day and a half to do a shoot that should have taken three. I’m so tired, I don’t even know which way is up.”
I wander past him and through to the kitchen, grateful that Mrs. Edmonds has been in to clean today, so the place looks immaculate. Drew follows, waiting while I fetch some beers from the refrigerator, handing him one. “Don’t expect any sympathy from me. I know you love your job, and I know you’ll have spent the entire day looking through a lens at some of the most beautiful women in the world… so quit moaning.”
“I will, if you’ll tell me what’s wrong.”
There’s no point pretending, but before I tell him, I lead us both back to the living area and sit on one of the four enormous leather couches. He takes a seat opposite and stares at me, waiting. “Doreen’s leaving, and she’s only giving me six weeks’ notice.”
His eyes widen, and he sips from his beer bottle before he nods his head. “Is there a reason for that?”
“For her leaving, or for the lack of notice?”
“The lack of notice.” I explain about Doreen’s daughter and my secretary’s wish to travel to England to be with her. “Sounds like the perfect excuse,” he says.
“She didn’t need one. I might have wanted her to stay, just because it makes my life easier, but I think I always knew she’d go, eventually. Dad was her link to the company, and when he died, she had no real reason to carry on. She admitted that herself.”
He tilts his head, his brow furrowing. “Do you think there was something going on between them?”
“Who? Doreen and Dad?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs his shoulders. “She’s a very attractive woman, and her husband died years ago.”
I might think Doreen worshipped my dad. I might even believe she loved him in her own way. But a physical relationship? That I’m not so sure about. “You mean, you think she and Dad…?”
“I don’t know, but I’ve always wondered. He left her a lot of money in his will.”
“Yes. Because she’d been his loyal assistant for decades.”
“Or because he was sleeping with her.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Maybe not… but when Mom left, Dad spent a lot of time at work, didn’t he?”
“He spent a lot of time at work, even before Mom left. That doesn’t mean he was having an affair with Doreen. It just means he was an asshole who didn’t know when to come home to his family.”
Drew shakes his head, although he doesn’t disagree with me. “I wish I could remember that time.”
“Why? Our childhood wasn’t anything to write home about.”
“I know, but I was only six when Mom left, and I can’t remember anything about it.”
