Shopping with the Enemy Page 17

  And then Gracie smiled. What did that mean?

  ‘Hi …’ Lana began nervously.

  ‘Hi,’ Gracie said … too cheerfully.

  ‘You look really nice,’ were Gracie’s next words as she came towards the door.

  Lana just stood there, frozen.

  ‘Aren’t you going to let me in?’

  ‘I don’t … I mean, aren’t you still really annoyed with me? Or has something changed?’

  ‘Yes, something has changed.’

  Lana held her breath and realized she was waiting for terrible news. Parker had cancelled … Parker had invited Gracie too, Gracie instead. Yes, Gracie was going on this date and not her.

  ‘I’m not angry with you any more,’ Gracie said simply.

  Lana waited anxiously for the reason.

  ‘You’re just doing what I would have done if he’d asked me out first.’

  Lana felt a small sense of relief. If – Gracie had said ‘if’, and that could only mean one thing: Parker hadn’t asked Gracie out.

  Gracie was looking at her expectantly. It was obviously Lana’s turn to talk.

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t even tell you that I liked him, so it must have been a surprise. A nasty surprise,’ she offered, apologetically.

  ‘It was, kinda,’ Gracie said, but gave a shrug, ‘but I guess I’ll get over it.’

  Lana looked at her, eyes wide with surprise. ‘Really?’ she couldn’t help asking. ‘Do you really think so?’

  Gracie shrugged again and smiled: ‘Yeah, well … You need to find out all about him, so that when you guys break up I can decide whether I want to go after him or not,’ she said in a teasing voice.

  ‘Gracie! I can’t break up with him because I’m not even going out with him,’ Lana protested. ‘This is just a go-see – who knows what will happen?’

  ‘He’ll like you, I’m sure. Who wouldn’t?’

  ‘That is too nice of you. Way too nice. Do you want to come in? I’ve got to go in like ten, but come in till then, help me pick out my shoes,’ Lana said, even though she’d already decided.

  ‘That will be too easy,’ Gracie said, following Lana into the hallway of her apartment. ‘You have to wear the polka-dot shoes! Like, so totally obvious.’

  ‘Is my outfit OK?’ Lana asked a little anxiously. ‘I mean it’s not the best, but I wore my best one last time – so is this OK?’

  ‘Well, that’s the other reason I’m here,’ Gracie began. She unhooked her straw basket from her shoulder and brought out a plastic bag.

  ‘I think you should wear this.’

  Lana took the bag, opened it up and peered inside. She knew at once what she was looking at.

  ‘You are joking! Where did you get this? How did you get this? And you brought it to me!’

  Lana put her hands into the bag and brought out a soft, slouchy tunic dress: it was gorgeous, drapy, funky and – all importantly – made from the blue and yellow print that Parker had designed.

  ‘I absolutely love it! It’s amazing!’ Lana gushed. ‘Oh my goodness. This is an NY Perfect Dress and it’s unbelievably good!’

  ‘Yeah. I stormed back to the office after I left you and Elena was still there with this whole rail of new NY Perfect Dress dresses and they are way, way better than I could ever have imagined.’

  ‘Look,’ Lana said, holding the dress up in front of her. It was a great cut and made of supple, fluid fabric which she knew would hang and cling in just the right kind of way. The neckline was a simple scoop and the three-quarter-length sleeves were wide with a gathered button detail at the ends.

  ‘Oh,’ she held the sleeve button in her fingers, ‘that’s just right, just enough detail to give it a lovely finish, but nothing fussy to detract from the pattern.’

  ‘Try it on! Try it on!’ Gracie insisted.

  ‘What should I wear underneath?’

  ‘Tight trousers, the polka-dot shoes and I might allow you to wear a belt if it’s too baggy.’

  Lana rushed to her room to change. When she came back out into the living space she and Gracie did a little victory dance together, because the dress was so good.

  ‘Imagine what he’ll say when he sees you wearing his fabric and rocking it!’

  ‘It’s definitely his fabric?’ Lana asked. ‘It just … I dunno … It looks a little familiar to me.’

  ‘No, it’s definitely his – a Parker Bain original. He’s going to go crazy for you.’

  Lana reached for her friend and flung her arms around her.

  ‘Gracie, I hope you know you’re the best. Only the best kind of friend would do something as nice as this. I am not the one rocking tonight. You totally rock.’

  Gracie hugged her back.

  ‘Go knock him out,’ she said, ‘and I’m sorry I yelled at you.’

  ‘I’m just really sorry there aren’t two Parkers. Do you think we could clone him?’

  ‘Maybe he has a brother? Please ask.’

  ‘Do you really like him so much?’ Lana looked at her friend in total seriousness.

  ‘Yeah. I just finished with Bingham, because you have to be honest. If I’m thinking this much about Parker, well, I had to let Bingham go.’

  ‘Gracie, I can’t go. I can’t go on this date. This is obviously your guy.’

  ‘Don’t be crazy. Go. Check him out. We’ll worry about cloning him when you’re sure he’s a good one.’

  ‘Are you sure? Are you really, really sure?’

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Austria

  The garage customer:

  Inter-Milan football top (gift from son)

  Jeans (Lee)

  Leather man bag (Steffl department store)

  Trainers (Adidas)

  Total est. cost: €220

  ‘ANNAH?’ SVETLANA REPEATED, ‘What is going on? Why are we here? It is dark already, why are we not in Vienna?’

  After such a long, pill-induced nap, Svetlana’s blonde beehive was tufty and askew and she wobbled a little on her heels as she walked, but she still looked a formidable sight. The way she was glaring was making Annie feel horribly nervous.

  ‘We ran out of petrol. But Randall has been to the station and filled the car up again. We’re all ready to go: only 15 kilometres from Vienna,’ Annie added quickly.

  Thankfully, instead of having the tantrum Annie was still expecting, Svetlana nodded curtly. Then she licked at her parched lips and asked, ‘Is there any water?’

  ‘Maybe in the minibar,’ Annie remembered. ‘Come on, we’ll get back into the car.’

  As Svetlana downed the glass of mineral water Randall had poured for her, Annie started up the Bentley and followed directions to the service station. As soon as they reached it, they all piled out of the car once again: Annie and Svetlana planned on using the bathroom, stocking up with fuel, more mineral water and Austrian chocolate bars; Randall was to meet up with the fellow traveller headed for Spain on the other side of the motorway.

  He released his surfboard and bungee ropes from the top of the car, then squared up to Annie to say goodbye.

  ‘I think we have to hug,’ he said with his arms already wide open.

  ‘A hug would be nice,’ she told him, ‘but nothing else. Don’t be getting any ideas.’

  She found herself crushed up against his chest again, trying not to focus on the outline of a rock-solid pec right in front of her eyes.

  ‘I hope Spain is cosmically good,’ she told him.

  ‘It will be. Good luck in Vienna and make sure you have a really nice life. Make sure to get back in touch with your inner artist … or you’ll always be sorry.’

  ‘Right.’

  Svetlana looked on icily as Randall said his goodbyes. He didn’t even dare to try and shake her hand, just gave her a friendly wave.

  ‘It was an adventure meeting you, ma’am. Hope you get your boys back.’

  Svetlana scowled and stalked off in the direction of the illuminated petrol station.

  ‘What time is
it?’ Annie wondered.

  ‘Aha!’ Randall cracked another grin. ‘Time for our paths to uncross and for the rest of your life to begin.’

  A plastic cup of coffee in her hand, Svetlana stared at the motorway ahead and watched as the road signs counted down the distance to Vienna.

  ‘What are we going to do when we get there?’ she asked, not taking her eyes from the road.

  ‘You’ll need to get some more information for us. Try Harry, try Michael again, or maybe you should finally talk to Igor so he realizes you’re totally serious about getting the boys back no matter what.’

  Svetlana spent several minutes firing out messages with her phone and dialling numbers.

  ‘Harry has no more news on where the boys are,’ she said, staring at the text which had just come in. She punched in another number.

  ‘Hello, I wish to speak with Igor please. Tell him it’s Svetlana.’

  She obviously got short shrift because she took the phone from her ear and exclaimed: ‘Oh! Igor!’

  She tossed the remains of the coffee down her throat.

  ‘I will never get Igor out of my life. So long as I am the mother of his children, the boys who will inherit his empire, then I will always have to deal with his bullying.’

  Annie suspected this was true. Men like Igor – well, there weren’t in fact many men like Igor. How many mighty, all-powerful billionaires could there be? Moguls who flitted between London, Moscow, the Middle East and the USA the way most people flitted between home, the office and the supermarket.

  What advice could she possibly give on how to deal with an ex-husband like Igor? It wasn’t as if she could refer Svetlana to a self-help manual: ‘How to Cope with your Billionaire Ex-Husband.’

  But then again, when Svetlana had worked out how to control him, she should probably write the book. There was bound to be some demand, although it was undoubtedly a niche market.

  ‘Just keep standing up to Igor,’ Annie advised: ‘that’s the only thing he respects. Never show weakness, just stand your ground and fight for your rights. It’s like dealing with a Rottweiler or an angry bull … probably.’

  She’d be the first to admit she’d never had to face down either of these horrors.

  Before Svetlana could reply, the phone she was holding tightly in her hand began to buzz.

  ‘It could be a message!’ she exclaimed, fumbling the handset and almost dropping it in her agitation.

  ‘We are in Vienna, staying here tonight,’ she read out, ‘Michael.’

  ‘Fantastic news!’ Annie said. ‘But where in Vienna? Ask him quickly, while he’s still got the phone in his hands.’

  Svetlana tapped out a message and together they waited for the reply, Svetlana in a state of almost unbearable tension. For several minutes there was silence, apart from the hum of the Bentley engine, probably thrashing its way through one litre of fuel per second.

  Then the phone buzzed again.

  ‘I don’t believe it!’ Svetlana whispered.

  Holding the screen up she read out: ‘Near a big church, in a square, saw sign for Konig something.’

  She turned to Annie, asking anxiously, ‘Do you think that could be enough? It doesn’t sound like enough … will we be able to find them?’

  Chapter Thirty

  New York

  Parker’s date wear:

  Skinny cut navy shirt (PS By Paul Smith – gift from Mom)

  Black skinny jeans (Old Navy)

  Brown leather sneakers (Converse)

  Black pork-pie hat (The Brooklyn Hat Store)

  Total est. cost: $195

  LANA AND PARKER had first of all done coffee in a place so urban cool she’d panicked about what to order. ‘Caramel latte’ just didn’t look as if it would cut it in a hangout with jagged metal sculptures rearing from the walls and moody waitresses with cropped hair and chunky boots.

  Then they’d gone on to a live art event where the artists had splattered the crowd with paint while wailing at them about the destruction of the individual in a sea of corporate clones.

  So far, this was Lana’s most exciting night out in New York ever. She’d hung onto every word Parker said and everywhere they’d gone, she’d been introduced to his friends and he’d explained about her tunic.

  ‘Look at this, look at this dress she’s wearing,’ he kept telling people. ‘This is my work. This is my print. Doesn’t it look cool? Lana works for this independent label and they are making up some really cool designs with my prints.’

  One thing Lana had picked up in the course of the whirlwind evening was that Parker knew a lot of people.

  He knew waitresses and doormen. He knew artists and gallery types. He knew students and designers, shop owners and barmen. On this evening alone, he seemed to have made seven new friends. He’d added everyone to his Facebook page and Twitter feed. He had 13,870 followers, he’d told her, twice.

  And everyone who’d met her had been just a tiny little bit uninterested; well, that’s how Lana had read it.

  No one had gushed: ‘Hi, how are you? How did you meet Parker?’ in that sort of you-must-be-Parker’s-new-love-interest kind of way.

  In fact people had been very: ‘Hi …’ and then straight back into conversation with Parker. Was this because he was so charming and interesting and out-there and she, by comparison, just wasn’t?

  And although it was a really fascinating evening and she’d loved being right beside him as he toured her through it, they’d hardly had any time to talk.

  These were the niggles, the little considerations she thought about as they made the long walk to her apartment. He’d insisted on walking her home and told her off when she’d suggested a cab.

  ‘But it’s such a great evening. And New York at night is the best, plus walking is the most environmentally friendly way. You’ve got to remember that.’

  They were walking past a huge gallery window with an oversized, multi-coloured cube in the window.

  ‘This is such a great piece, isn’t it?’ Parker said, slowing down and turning to face it.

  ‘Ummm … very colourful … very imposing,’ Lana said, hoping she didn’t sound like a complete twerp.

  ‘I have always wanted to kiss someone right here, right in front of this window. Right in front of the Vronsky cube.’

  Lana felt a weird little shudder pass all the way down to her toes when he said this.

  Kiss …

  She had been thinking about kissing all evening: the if, the when, the where of kissing – and now it sounded as if there was about to be an important development on the kissing front.

  ‘You’ve always wanted to?’ she asked, then couldn’t help adding a little cynically, ‘but that cube’s probably only been there for a few weeks.’

  Parker shrugged: ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘You’ve always wanted to kiss someone,’ Lana repeated. ‘That doesn’t sound so good. That sounds as if anyone would do.’

  She was standing very close to him now, close enough to see the stubble on his upper lip, close enough to smell the soap-meets-coffee smell he was giving off. Definitely close enough to kiss.

  Here she was right at the moment she had been thinking about for days: right beside him, right beside the Vronsky cube. A kiss was imminent. His lips parted slightly, he leaned just a little closer, towards her.

  And suddenly she just wasn’t quite sure.

  She did very much want to see what it would be like to kiss Parker. But then the thought of having to tell Gracie was unbearable. Gracie had just about been able to forgive her for going on a date with Parker … but kissing … Lana did not know if Gracie would ever forgive kissing.

  Now his lips were right in front of hers. Wouldn’t she like to find out …?

  She moved forward, just to the point where she could feel Parker’s warm breath on her upper lip.

  But no – Gracie, what about Gracie? Lana pulled her head away.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Parker asked, his pup
ils wide and his voice a little husky.

  Lana blurted out the first thing she could think of: ‘Look at the cube! It’s changed colour!’

  Parker glanced through the gallery window then back at her. He put his hand under her chin and held it so she had to look into his face once again.

  ‘Lana from London?’ he asked. ‘Are we going to kiss … or what?’

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Austria

  Lady of the night:

  Short black fake fur coat (an admirer)

  Black lace babydoll (C&A)

  Black lace underwear (same)

  Black stockings (same)

  Dangly diamanté earrings (market stall)

  Comfortable patent black heels (Prada – real)

  Black and gold handbag (Prada – fake)

  Total est. cost: €570

  ‘VIENNA NORTH? OR Vienna South? What do you think?’ Annie asked as the motorway began to divide up into exits and options.

  She was not exactly thrilled at the prospect of having to haul the great, clunking Bentley around city streets that she didn’t know. But now was not the time to dwell on minor inconveniences.

  Svetlana was poring over the street map of Vienna she’d found in the back of the Austrian map book.

  ‘There are so many, many, many places with Konig at the start of their name. Too many.’

  ‘Don’t panic.’ Annie saw a sign above the next lane which indicated ‘Vienna Centrum’, made a late lane change and earned herself a severe honking from the car behind.

  ‘No need to panic,’ she added, although her heart was now racing: ‘I thought we would drive around the places you and Igor used to visit. Men are creatures of habit, if they’ve been somewhere once and liked it, they usually go back. Is he like that?’

  ‘Yes!’ Svetlana exclaimed and suddenly looked much more hopeful. ‘He has two favourite hotels in Vienna, this is where we need to try first. Genius Annah, I would not have thought of this.’

  ‘Right. Get out your phone, look those hotels up, find the addresses and see if you can download some basic sort of satnav that will get us there. It’s only eleven o’clock … we’ve got hours of time to find them.’