Times Like These Page 2

  ‘All right,’ Rod said, resting a hand on Andrea’s shoulder and patting her once. ‘See you when I see you. Let’s not make it too soon.’

  Andrea rolled her eyes but didn’t hide her smile. ‘Sweet dreams, pumpkin,’ she called after Rod, whose laugh they heard from inside the house.

  The nice thing about Andrea and Rod was that, as much as they bickered about Rod’s constant tales of when he was very briefly a pro-footballer, and Andrea always thinking she had better taste in music than everyone, Hannah knew they would do anything for each other. And the nicest thing was that they would do anything for each other because they both loved Hannah. For her sins, Hannah just didn’t exist without Rod and Andrea in her life.

  Hannah leaned into her garden chair and reclined as far as it would go, closing her eyes. Andrea did the same, so that they were both lying back, staring at the stars.

  ‘How are you feeling about coming back to work next week?’ Andrea asked.

  Hannah was still Andrea’s personal assistant, which sounded like it shouldn’t work but for the most part, it did. Hannah had always worked with (or, technically, for) Andrea. When she had been a new mom and Rod was on the cusp of turning pro but not yet earning any real money, Andrea had given Hannah a job at Sanfia Records. She had let Hannah work flexible hours and bring Luke into the studio whenever she had needed to. Seventeen years on, Hannah had just never left Andrea. When Andrea moved on from Sanfia Records, it seemed a given that Hannah would go with her. Of course, neither of them had planned for Hannah having TJ and being off work for the last four months.

  ‘Mixed,’ Hannah confessed. ‘I’m so ready for adult company and I’ve missed the water-cooler chat. But I don’t know how I’m going to work out the logistics of travelling to Brooklyn every day and putting TJ in nursery. I was a lot younger the last two times around. Now, the sleepless nights are extra painful.’

  ‘You’re only thirty-eight, Hannah.’

  ‘Believe me, when it comes to screaming babies, there’s a big difference between twenty-one and thirty-eight.’

  They fell into companionable silence.

  ‘I’m glad you’re coming back,’ Andrea said, in a rare display of affection.

  Hannah had the sense there was more to come and remained silent, waiting.

  ‘I’ve missed you,’ Andrea continued, turning her head to look at Hannah. ‘You kind of keep my life together. Don’t ever repeat this, but, you stop me from… making bad decisions.’

  Hannah felt her eyes narrow and her brow furrow. ‘Have you been making bad decisions recently?’

  Andrea stared at her and Hannah could almost see the thoughts whirring behind her eyes. Then, she opened her mouth to speak and, in true Andrea fashion, closed it again without a word.

  Hannah knew the brief moment of openness was gone.

  Andrea pushed her legs down to force her garden chair upright. ‘I should get going. I have a meeting tomorrow about the CEO position.’

  Andrea was on the cusp of a significant promotion. If she got it, it would be an incredible achievement, but Andrea had a long list of successes in her career history as a music producer and she deserved the position. Still, thirty-eight years old was young to attain a role like CEO of a label at a music industry giant and she was female, which meant the promotion, if she got it, would be a huge deal.

  Hannah stood and hugged Andrea. ‘You’ll smash it.’

  As the women separated, Andrea’s cell phone started to ring. She rifled through her purse to find the phone and cancelled the call.

  ‘It’s late for a call on a Sunday night,’ Hannah said, her voice betraying her intrigue. ‘Are you seeing someone?’ She was almost singing the question, desperate for some adult gossip.

  But Andrea wasn’t in the mood to play, apparently. Scowling, she put the phone back in her purse and hoisted the bag onto her shoulder. ‘I’m a little busy to be seeing anyone right now.’

  In Andrea-speak, that was a blatant yes, but there was no need for Hannah to call her out on it just yet. The fun could start when she got back to work next week.

  Andrea was subtly promiscuous. She quite often had a man on the go but, with the exception of Hannah, most people didn’t know that.

  Hannah wondered who it was this time. The chances were, she wouldn’t know them anyway. The only person Andrea tended to go back to was ‘rock god’ Tommy Dawson, and it had been a while since their last fling.

  Once Andrea left, Hannah brought the last of the glasses and plates inside and started to tidy the kitchen. As she began filling the sink with soapy water, two strong arms wrapped around her waist. Rod smelled of soap and manly deodorant. She breathed him in as he kissed her neck with his big lips.

  ‘This can wait, let’s go to bed,’ he mumbled against her skin.

  What he really meant by that was let’s leave it for you to do on your own tomorrow. But it had been a long day and the thought of curling up on Rod’s chest was too tempting to resist. Hannah turned out the lights, leaving the messy kitchen in darkness, and let Rod lead her upstairs to bed.

  2

  Andrea

  The sound of a champagne cork popping was music to Andrea’s ears. She rarely drank champagne – her drink of choice was whiskey on the rocks – and that sound was one she always associated with good things, like her younger sister Sofia’s independent music award for Best Producer last year. Like Christmas when she was a child, before her Mom died. Like Hannah’s baby’s christening. But mostly, it was the sound of her own success. It was one beat in a score that had become the soundtrack to her life. Above all else these days, Andrea strived for success, to be the best at her job.

  She poured the pink bubbles into a flute and walked to the window of her new office. She closed her eyes as the first hit of effervescence danced in her mouth, and opened them to her upgraded view across Williamsburg, East River and out to the big old city of New York.

  The lights of the city’s skyscrapers shone out against the black backdrop of the sky. Not bad for a girl from Nashville, Tennessee, she thought. She scanned the view, closer to her office, and her eyes landed five blocks away on the old building that had started it all for her. The lights were still on at Sanfia Records – the indie recording label that her father had started twenty-five years ago. Two short years ago, she had been heading up the label when she was poached by XM Music Group to come over to one of their fastest-growing labels. She had never planned on leaving Sanfia Records but circumstances, plus the fact that XM Music Group’s offer had been too good to turn down, had forced her hand. Now, being promoted to chief executive officer of the group’s Stellar label proved she had made the right decision.

  It had been a difficult transition at first and she still had doubts sometimes. Every now and then she would feel a wave of guilt for having left her sister to take over the family business but now that she was CEO of Stellar, she could help her sister by throwing work her way.

  She raised her glass, wondering whether her sister was still working inside Sanfia Records. In that move, she toasted her own success. She wished her sister and Sanfia Records the best of luck. She silently thanked her father for everything he had done for her for thirty-eight years because telling him to his face was not something she would do.

  ‘Knock-knock.’

  She hadn’t heard him come in but Hunter’s familiar voice was welcome. She watched him close the office door behind him, taking in his latest slick-cut suit. Hunter always dressed to impress. He was a man in his late fifties who looked barely a day over forty-five. He was tall and deadly attractive. The creases that decorated his eyes served only to add charm to his face and fiercely blue eyes.

  ‘Mind if I come in to toast my newest executive?’ he asked, holding up a bottle of Dom Pérignon and two glasses.

  Andrea felt her lips curve up slightly. ‘Sure.’ After all, he had been the first person she had wanted to tell when her promotion was approved by the leadership board.

  Hunter clocked
the bottle of fizz Andrea was already enjoying and flashed her a devilishly handsome smile. ‘Great minds think alike.’

  He poured himself a glass and as Andrea came to stand by him in front of her unnecessarily large desk, he clinked his drink against hers.

  ‘You deserve it,’ he said.

  ‘That means a lot coming from you, Hunter.’

  He was, without doubt, an industry great. Like a lot of execs at the top of the music giants, Hunter’s background was actually Wall Street, rather than the music industry. He was cut-throat and sharp and helped XM Music Group – its artists, producers, sound engineers and the business in general – achieve more accolades and awards than the world’s other two largest recording labels. He had an eye for the market and trends, for lean financials and tight management. With Hunter at the helm, XM Music Group was capable of causing ripples that could result in wholescale waves in the global music industry.

  He moved around the office, sensually running his fingertips along the black leather sofa at one side, the windowsill that ran the length of the full wall of windows, the table and chairs that took up one corner of the room. Power and control oozed from him.

  ‘Do you know what I like most about this office?’ he asked, running the back of his hand along the vertical blinds that hung on the interior windows. ‘That you can do this.’

  He tugged on the line that drew the blinds closed, then he turned the lock on the door, shielding them from any prying eyes that might still be in the office.

  Andrea’s heart thumped in her chest and her mouth was suddenly dry. No matter how many times they had been together, each time still felt exciting, outrageous, sinfully sexy. He was not hers. He belonged to another woman. She hated the truth – that knowing it was so wrong caused her body to hum with anticipation.

  ‘Hunter.’ Her voice was so heavily drenched in lust that his name left her as a hoarse whisper.

  He crossed the room, his eyes on her. She licked her lips as her breathing quickened. Then he was pressed against her, and all she knew was pleasure. The kind of pleasure that made her forget all the sensible questions she should have been asking herself – How did I let this happen? How did I fall for the one man I absolutely cannot have?

  She had lost count of how many times they had done this, how many nights they had shared countless orgasms over recent months, but she now knew the feel of him, the shape of him, the undertone of every noise he made.

  When she was once again presentable, her tailored suit in place and the rogue hairs from her chignon smoothed, she topped off her glass of champagne.

  ‘Another?’ she asked Hunter.

  ‘Afraid not. I have a dinner tonight,’ he said casually, as he unclicked the lock to the door and moved to open the blinds.

  Andrea checked her watch. ‘It’s already eight thirty. Where is your dinner?’

  He paused by the blinds, gave her a look of pity, and said, ‘Let’s not become those people, Andrea.’

  Which she took to mean he would be having dinner with his wife and possibly his daughter. She shook it off. ‘You’re right,’ she said, waving a hand vacantly. ‘I have a few things to sort out here so you best leave me to it.’

  He smiled condescendingly. ‘That’s my girl. You know my advice – new posts demand a stamp of authority. You should be working on your first big move.’

  Hunter flipped open the blinds and standing right outside the office was Bryant Matthews, talking with another senior member of staff. Both men looked into the office; first at Hunter, then Andrea. Andrea jumped up from her position on her leather sofa, uneasy, but Hunter took it in his stride, dipping his head in acknowledgement to the men.

  If someone could have freeze-framed the look on their faces at that very moment, Andrea’s would have said, ‘I’m guilty.’ Bryant’s would have said, ‘I finally understand her promotion.’ He had been second-in-line for the role of CEO of Stellar but he had believed himself to be ahead of Andrea and now there was no doubt he would be harbouring a grudge the size of Canada.

  ‘Fuck,’ Andrea whispered.

  ‘We’re two colleagues enjoying a celebratory drink, Andrea,’ Hunter reasoned.

  ‘With the blinds drawn?’

  He picked up his suit jacket and drained what was left of his drink. ‘That, I admit, was unfortunate timing. I’m late so I’ll be seeing you. I’m proud of you, kiddo.’

  She watched the door close behind him, waiting for it… Sure enough, the guilt came. She wished she could put an end to it. But he had become an addiction to her. She was always waiting for her next fix. And they both knew that if he was a happily married man, he wouldn’t come to her. What they were doing was wrong, dirty but sensationally erotic. Just one more time, that was what she would promise herself after every romp.

  But her promotion to CEO had brought with it a stark realisation… When she had first found out, she hadn’t wanted to tell her best friend and executive assistant, Hannah. Nor had she wanted to run to her sister, Sofia and tell her how she’d been promoted two short years after ditching the family label. She definitely hadn’t wanted to tell her friend Rosalie. No, the first thing she had wanted to do was celebrate her new role with Hunter.

  That thought terrified her.

  3

  Rosalie

  ‘I told him to go screw himself. Or her. But definitely not me.’

  Rosalie bit out the words as she stomped her foot into a one-size-too-big Christian Louboutin shoe. She was a familiar face to the staff of the glamorous Upper East Side store. They were always willing to listen to her troubles in return for a swipe of her trusty Amex. They were Rosalie’s CBT.

  ‘Good for you,’ one of the staff said, whose name Rosalie really ought to remember just one time.

  ‘Amen,’ said another, as she handed Rosalie a freshly topped-up glass of Laurent-Perrier.

  The first woman, a petite blonde in a white shirt with silk neck scarf and a tight French braid, massaged Rosalie’s ankle and smoothed the skin of her foot that was exposed in the pointed shoe. ‘How does it feel?’

  Rosalie smiled. ‘As painful as a divine shoe should feel.’ She assessed the way the crystal-encrusted heels looked with her royal blue silk wrap dress. ‘I’m not sure about it with this outfit, though.’

  ‘Too much sparkle?’ the second woman asked.

  Rosalie looked to her and told her, ‘A lady can never have too much sparkle. But let’s try that pretty leopard print – print is so in right now.’

  As the women fussed around her, Rosalie sipped her champagne and picked up where she had left off – the break-up.

  ‘Do you know what he said to me? He said I’m not responsible enough for him. He said he wants someone less frivolous. Frivolous! Oh, and that he wants a woman who is capable of looking after him. Can you believe that?’

  She lifted one foot out of the sparkling stiletto and slipped it into the leopard print sandal, such that she had a different design on each foot. Pouting and adjusting her stance, she assessed the get-up.

  ‘You know, I cooked for him on more than one occasion. One time, I actually chopped things and made a sauce from scratch. Does that count for nothing?’

  She turned her back on the mirror and looked across her shoulder at her reflection. ‘The heels of the leopard print are just so cute.’

  ‘How long were you seeing each other?’ The blonde woman asked.

  ‘Who? Oh, George and me? A while. Eight weeks, in fact!’ Rosalie sighed. ‘I just can’t decide.’ She took another sip of champagne. ‘Hell, I’ll just take them both. I deserve the endorphins, right, ladies?’

  * * *

  Pooped. Feet red and sore. Dehydrated. Rosalie settled herself and her shopping bags onto the padded sofa of her favourite Italian restaurant. She was anti-carb ninety-nine per cent of the time but when it came to her one-quarter Italian heritage – Mommy’s side – she made an exception. Good, al dente pasta, perhaps brightened with a little shaved truffle, was worth missing two meals eit
her side. And that was exactly what she felt like today.

  Mauricio, the owner of the restaurant, which was a gem, tucked away down a side street off Central Park, hip-swayed his way flamboyantly to her table.

  ‘Bella, you look as perfect as ever.’

  Rosalie tried to look bashful but she knew she looked well. She had been on a juice diet since the break-up and her Dior dress hugged her slender frame perfectly, not to mention the salon blow-dry she had prescribed herself this morning, for medicinal purposes. She flicked her long brown waves across her shoulder as she thanked Mauricio.

  ‘Your daddy’s assistant called just a moment ago and said he would be a few minutes late. Perhaps some wine while you wait?’

  Rosalie rolled her eyes. ‘Poor Daddy. He’s so hard-working. The usual would be fabulous.’

  Though family run, the restaurant was not traditionally Italian in feel. It was bright and airy, with a wall of windows looking onto the street, white furniture and table-tops decorated with succulents in ceramic planters. The glasses and cutlery always gleamed under the overhead lights. The kitchen was exposed to the eyes of diners, meaning it was immaculately clean.

  Rosalie slipped her heels out of her shoes under the table so that they hung loosely on her pinched toes, and she leaned back against the padded seat to enjoy her first sip of wine.

  How had she been dumped, again? She was a catch, wasn’t she?

  She was beautiful and slim. She had great taste in music, décor and clothes. Food and beverages were something she was expert in. And she did run her own design business, kind of – was it a business if she never asked for payment for her services? True, it had also been some months since she had designed the interior of a property but she had to be careful with the projects she chose. Any interior designer was only worth the reputation of her last client and they had to be big names. She did not get into the business to design just any old room for just any ordinary person. She designed the perfect homes for her friends and nothing gave her more pleasure than to see them and their families happy in beautiful surrounds.