Some Girls Do

Chapter Nine




Luca sat up in bed munching an apple as the afternoon sun slanted in through the blinds, warming him and creating strips of honey-coloured light on the polished wooden floor of Aisling’s bedroom.

‘Well, that was a long time coming,’ she said with a triumphant smile.

He looked at her stretched out naked beside him on the rumpled sheet, her long blonde hair tousled. Damp tendrils clung to her forehead and the sides of her face. ‘You were a long time coming,’ he said.

She made a sleepy, satisfied noise and nestled deeper into the pillow.

‘Give me a bite.’ She nodded at the apple.

Luca nipped her shoulder lightly. ‘There you go.’

Aisling laughed and grabbed the apple from him.

‘Hey!’

‘Bite me!’ she said, and bit into it with a juicy crunch before handing it back to him.

Luca finished it and lobbed the core into the basket in the far corner of the room. Then he checked his watch. It was almost three. ‘I’m going to head off,’ he said, swinging out of the bed.

‘Don’t go.’ Aisling groaned pettishly, reaching for him, but he was already sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to her. ‘Why don’t you stay?’ Her fingers stroked his spine.

Luca sighed. ‘I told you. I’m meeting my father for dinner later, and I want to get some work done before that.’

‘You mean painting?’ She didn’t try to hide the sneer in her voice.

‘Yes, painting.’

‘But that’s the beauty of being your own boss. No one can stop you skiving off for an afternoon whenever you want. I just told Nicola I wouldn’t be back for the rest of the day. I could tell she was livid, but there’s nothing she can do about it.’ Aisling owned a very chic and expensive bag shop in the Powerscourt Centre where, like her stock, she was more decorative than useful.

‘Well, unlike you, no one else can do my work for me.’

‘So take a day off,’ she drawled, in a bored voice. ‘Who cares?’

‘I care,’ he said, standing up and turning to her.

‘You could paint me.’ She spread her arms wide and looked up at him appealingly.

He studied her, his eyes slowly raking the length of her body. She was a beautiful girl, there was no denying that – she had a fit, toned body, soft, well-tended skin, great tits. But there was something vacuous and bland about her prettiness that held no aesthetic interest for him. There was no character in her face, no little quirk or irregularity to make it interesting. It was flawless, doll-like … boring.

‘Is this new?’ he asked, bending and reaching out with one finger to touch the tattoo on her hip – a cluster of small, coloured stars. He hadn’t seen it before, but it was a long time since they’d slept together.

‘I got it a couple of weeks ago. What do you think?’

‘It’s cool,’ he said, sitting down beside her, his finger tracing lazily over the tattoo.

‘You’re the first person to see it.’

‘Really? Not even Philip?’

‘No.’ Aisling raised herself up on her elbow. ‘Philip and I are on a break.’

‘Yeah?’

‘You didn’t know?’ She sounded surprised.

‘Why would I?’

‘Well, I’d have thought it was obvious. I mean, do you honestly think I’d be here with you if I was still with Philip?’ she asked indignantly.

‘Honestly? I think you would, yeah,’ he said with a smirk.

‘F*ck you!’ she said softly, but she wasn’t even trying to hold back her smile. Aisling liked her reputation as a ballsy man-eater. ‘Well, I wouldn’t,’ she said archly. ‘I may play around, but when I’m with someone, I don’t cheat.’

‘Very admirable. You’re almost up there with the Virgin Mary. Lucky for me, then, that I caught you when you were between gigs with Philip.’

‘What makes you think I’m getting back with him?’

‘Because it’s what you and Philip do. You’ll probably still be breaking up and getting back together when you’re both ninety.’

‘Not this time. I’m going to tell him it’s over for good. He’s really pissing me off. He can be such a knob.’

‘You’ll get no argument from me there.’

‘So you think I should?’ She looked up at him coquettishly from beneath her lashes. ‘Break up with him?’

‘If you want to.’

‘What kind of answer is that?’ she said, her smile swiftly replaced by a scowl.

‘What do you want me to say? If you want to break up with him, you should break up with him.’

‘I want to know what you think. I mean, how would you feel about it?’

Luca shrugged. ‘Dump Philip or marry him and have his babies – what difference does it make to me?’

‘How can you say that? I just told you I wouldn’t be here with you now if I was with Philip.’

‘Look, I’m not saying it hasn’t been fun, but that’d hardly be the end of the world, would it?’

‘Charming!’ she said petulantly.

‘Anyway,’ he grinned, ‘I could catch you next time around.’

‘I told you, there isn’t going to be a next time. If we split up this time, it’s over for good. Then you and I could have lots more afternoons like this,’ she said seductively, playing with the hair on his chest.

‘Well, don’t break up with him on my account—’

‘Jesus!’ she huffed, pulling away abruptly. ‘Why are you being like this?’

‘Like what?’

‘You act like you don’t even care.’

‘I’m not acting. I don’t care. And neither do you, remember?’

‘Maybe I’ve changed my mind.’

‘Well, I haven’t changed mine.’ He stood. ‘I’m going for a shower.’

‘You’re such a shit, Luca,’ she hissed to his back.

Yeah, whatever, Luca thought wearily as he stalked into the vast, open-plan living room. Aisling lived in a loft-style apartment at Grand Canal Dock. On his way to the bathroom, he stopped by the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the water to take in the view, leaning his forehead against the glass. He was so fed up with girls telling him he was a shit because he didn’t want what they wanted – especially when he’d made it perfectly clear what he wanted from the start. He wasn’t the one changing his mind, and it wasn’t his fault that Aisling had been lying, pretending she was cool with casual sex because she wanted him to stick around long enough for her to change him.

‘For f*ck’s sake, Luca, get away from the window,’ Aisling said behind him. ‘People will see you.’

‘So? I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.’

Her eyes flew to his dick. ‘No.’ She smiled saucily as she walked towards him, completely naked. She stood beside him at the window, looking down at the people passing on the walkway below.


‘Aren’t you worried people will see you?’ Luca asked.

‘You’re not the only one who has nothing to be ashamed of.’ She touched his hand, stepping closer so her breasts were brushing against his chest. ‘Why don’t we really give them something to look at?’

His body was already starting to respond to her. ‘I told you, I have to go,’ he said, pulling away from her and starting to gather up his clothes, which were scattered around the living room. He could shower at home. Now he just wanted to get out of there.

Aisling’s smile disappeared and she folded her arms, her face like thunder as she watched him get dressed hastily. Thank Christ they hadn’t gone to his place, he thought, as he zipped up his jeans and pulled on his T-shirt – he’d never have got rid of her. But Aisling had refused to go there on the grounds that it was ‘minging’. Sometimes living in a shithole had its advantages.

‘I’ll see you around, yeah?’ he said, as he pulled on his jacket. He leaned in to kiss her, but she reared away from him.

‘Just piss off!’

Outside the apartment, Luca didn’t bother waiting for the lift, running down the stairs as if he was being chased.

Where the f*ck had that come from? Aisling was the last person he would have expected to turn clingy and demanding. Quite apart from the fact that she was a notorious player, she had an ongoing thing with Philip, and they always ended up back together, no matter who else she amused herself with in the meantime. In fact, their friends often said she was using Luca to make Philip jealous – which was fine by him. He was happy to help.

And now she’d suddenly decided to glom on to him. He’d obviously made a mistake, taking her at her word that she wasn’t interested in anything serious. But what the f*ck was she thinking? They didn’t even like each other – not really. He was always clear about what he wanted – and didn’t want – right from the start. So why did it inevitably end up with him being told what a shit he was, some girl shouting and throwing stuff at him, or acting hurt and accusing him of having misled her?

They always thought they’d be the one to transform him into their idea of the perfect boyfriend if they could just f*ck him enough times. Well, screw that!


The gallery that represented him was giving him his first solo show in September, and even though it was now only the beginning of May, he didn’t feel he had a lot of time. So he spent the rest of the day working furiously on a couple of pieces, swapping between them so that he could get on with one while he left the other to dry. The frustrating thing about working in oils was how long it took the paint to dry between layers, so he usually had at least two canvases on the go simultaneously. He quickly became engrossed, completely absorbed in what he was creating, and regretted wasting so much time with Aisling. Still, that wouldn’t be happening again anytime soon – he’d burned his bridges there. That had been happening a lot lately. If he kept it up, he’d run out of girls to sleep with, he thought wryly. He’d have to become celibate or move out of Dublin. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to give that a rest for a while anyway. If nothing else, he’d have more time to focus on his painting.

At seven, he downed tools, cleaned up and got ready to go out. He had arranged to meet his father at an Indian restaurant close to the private hospital where he worked. It was a favourite haunt of Jonathan’s for their occasional father/son get-togethers because it gave him a rare opportunity to eat Indian food, which his wife didn’t like.

Luca walked the short distance from the bus stop to the restaurant, which was on a quiet, tree-lined road, with a little courtyard in front. He automatically scanned the parking space to the side, checking for Jonathan’s BMW. He was alarmed to recognise his mother’s Mercedes there instead, unmistakable with the stuffed dolphin in the back window – it had been a permanent fixture for almost as long as he could remember.

F*ck! He stopped in his tracks. Was this some sort of ambush? He really wasn’t in the mood for a showdown with Jacqueline. He’d had enough aggro for one day. He hesitated outside, contemplating turning around and leaving. He could ring Jonathan and make some excuse, say something had come up unexpectedly. But he’d feel like a shit if he did that. He knew Jonathan meant well and just wanted everyone to get along. He might as well get it over with. Squaring his shoulders, he opened the door and went inside.

He was about to give his name to the ma?tre d’ when Jonathan spotted him, waving at him from a table across the room. Luca was surprised to see that he was alone and seated at a table for two. He still approached the table warily.

‘Hi, Luca.’ Jonathan greeted him with a smile and stood to give him a quick hug.

‘Hi,’ Luca said, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘Where’s Jacqueline?’ he asked, as he pulled out the chair and sat opposite.

‘Jacqueline?’ Jonathan frowned. ‘I think she’s at her book club tonight,’ he said vaguely.

‘Oh. I saw her car outside …’

‘Ah, right. Mine’s in the garage, so I’ve been driving hers this week.’

Luca relaxed, relieved that his mother wasn’t going to be joining them.

‘I would have told you if she was coming,’ Jonathan said, a little sadly.

‘I know. Sorry.’ He should have known his father wouldn’t spring something on him like that. It wasn’t his style.

A waiter came to take their drinks order – Cobra for Luca and non-alcoholic beer for Jonathan. They studied their menus in silence.

Luca’s eyes were drawn to Jonathan’s hands where they rested on the table in front of him. They were surgeon’s hands – cared for, immaculately manicured, skilful. They looked safe, assured, capable. Luca suddenly thought he would like to paint them.

‘Have you decided what you’re having?’ Jonathan asked him.

‘Oh!’ Luca snapped out of his reverie. ‘Sorry, I was just looking at your hands.’

Jonathan raised his eyebrows quizzically.

‘I was thinking I’d like to paint them.’

‘These?’ Jonathan held up his hands in front of him as if he’d never noticed them before. ‘Really?’ he said, with a little self-deprecating laugh. But he looked flattered.

Luca smiled back, glad to have pleased him, even in such an insignificant way. It felt good to make someone else happy. He wished he could do it more often, but he didn’t seem to have the knack. ‘Could I?’

‘Of course. I’d be delighted.’

The waiter returned with their drinks and took their food order.

‘Cheers!’ Jonathan said, raising his glass to Luca’s when the waiter had gone. ‘It’s good to see you, Luca. We don’t do this often enough.’

‘Cheers!’ Luca clinked his glass against Jonathan’s. ‘How’s the butchery business?’

‘The butchery business is thriving. How’s the daubing business?’

‘Dismal.’ Luca took a sip of ice-cold Cobra. ‘I haven’t sold anything in ages.’

‘Are you okay for money?’

‘Fine,’ Luca answered hastily. He didn’t want Jonathan to think he was looking for a handout.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, absolutely. I did some work for the gallery this week.’ At least he’d managed to scrape together the money to get his electricity switched back on.


‘Well, you have your show coming up in September. Hopefully that will be your big breakthrough. We’re looking forward to it.’

‘You’re all coming?’

‘To your first solo show? Of course! We’re very proud of you, Luca.’

Luca was pretty sure Jacqueline wasn’t proud of him. He wouldn’t blame her. He had given her little enough reason to be.

‘How’s it coming along? Does it have a title? A theme?’

‘It doesn’t have a title yet, but it’s all about the way the model or subject is used, how the artist imposes meaning on the subject and controls the story, so the subject is silenced and possibly misrepresented. They have their story taken off them—’ He broke off. ‘Sorry,’ he said, running a hand through his hair. ‘It’s hard to talk about it without sounding really wanky.’

‘It doesn’t sound, er … wanky at all.’ Jonathan frowned thoughtfully. ‘It sounds quite … personal.’

‘Anyway, the painting’s going really well at the moment.’

‘Glad to hear it. I’m sure big things will happen for you soon, Luca. You deserve it.’

They were interrupted by the arrival of the waiter with their food, silent while he unloaded dishes onto the table.

‘You haven’t been to the house in ages,’ Jonathan said, as he spooned curry onto his plate. ‘We hardly see you any more.’

Luca felt bad that Jonathan got shut out of his life by default because he couldn’t get on with Jacqueline. He liked Jonathan a lot. He was a good man – kind, caring and scrupulously fair. He had always tried to make it up to Luca for Jacqueline’s coldness towards him, intervening on his behalf if he felt she was being too harsh, trying to spend ‘quality time’ with him at weekends, making a special effort to play with him or take him on outings. But Jonathan worked long hours and he wasn’t around enough to make a real difference.

He wasn’t really Luca’s father – Jacqueline had adopted him and his sister Alina on her own – but he had been around from their first days in Ireland; he and Jacqueline had married six months later. Far from putting him off, the ready-made family had seemed to appeal to Jonathan, and he had thrown himself into the role of father enthusiastically and wholeheartedly.

‘I just think it’s probably better for everyone if I stay away.’

‘Nonsense,’ Jonathan said briskly. ‘We miss you.’

Luca occupied himself with scooping rice onto his plate and tearing naan bread, not knowing what to say to that.

‘You’ll be coming for Ali’s birthday, at least?’ Jonathan asked.

‘Yes, definitely.’

‘She’d be so disappointed if you didn’t.’

‘I know. I wouldn’t miss it.’ He couldn’t bear to let Ali down.

‘Good. Do you think you’ll be bringing anyone?’ Jonathan asked, clearly trying to sound casual, but Luca could hear the caginess in his voice, saw the effort he was making to appear offhand, as if he was unconcerned about the answer.

‘No,’ Luca said, with a crooked smile. He almost added ‘don’t worry’, because he knew exactly what had prompted the question and the wariness behind it. The last time he had gone to a party at his parents’ house – a New Year’s Eve party five or six years earlier – he had brought a girl he had met in rehab. He hadn’t been seeing her, they weren’t even particular friends, and he had only brought her because he knew he could count on her to behave appallingly. She hadn’t let him down. In fact, she had far exceeded his expectations, projectile vomiting all over the bathroom and stealing cash from his mother’s dressing table before disappearing into the night in search of the nearest dealer. Luca still felt burning shame when he remembered it. He had wanted to upset Jacqueline and he’d succeeded spectacularly, but it had been the very definition of a hollow victory.

‘No, I’ll be coming on my own,’ he reiterated.

Jonathan simply nodded in acknowledgement, but the relief rolled off him in waves.

The time passed quickly as they chatted, and it was after eleven when they left the restaurant.

‘Just drop me to the bus,’ Luca said, as they walked back to the car. But Jonathan insisted on driving him home.

‘I need to go to a supermarket on the way,’ he said. ‘Jacqueline asked me to pick up a few things.’ He stopped outside a convenience store a little way from the restaurant. ‘Do you want to come in?’ he asked Luca.

‘No, I’ll wait here.’

‘Okay,’ he said, opening his door. ‘I won’t be long.’

Left alone in the car, Luca’s eye caught the photograph attached to the dashboard with a magnet. He hadn’t seen it in a long time, and he was surprised his mother kept it there where she would see it every day, a constant reminder of her disappointment. He picked it up to examine it more closely. An old colour photograph, it was creased with age and curling up at the edges. He only vaguely remembered the day it had been taken. He wasn’t even sure if it was a true memory or if he had been told about it so often that he thought he remembered it. It had been taken outside the orphanage in Negru Vod. His mother had her arms around her new children, him on one side and Ali on the other, both squinting into the sun and looking suitably bewildered at the start of their new life. Jacqueline beamed at the camera – a smile that said she couldn’t believe her luck. It was an establishing shot: the beginning of their family.

He smiled as he looked at Ali, so shy and cute, her eyes sliding to him for reassurance. He hardly recognised himself in the little boy who stood staring straight ahead, his expression fierce. She should have known, he thought. She should have taken one look at that face and thrown him back. Ali would have forgotten him soon enough and they could all have been happy. They would have been a perfect family without him.

He remembered the mixture of terror and excitement with which he had made the journey to Ireland, and wondered if it had been the same for Jacqueline, bringing two little strangers to live with her. It was his first time on a plane. There had been a lot of firsts – the taste of chocolate, the kindness of his new mother’s hands in his hair, the softness of the bed he had slept in that night, the quiet of a night not filled with the nightmares of frightened children; hot water, clean clothes, plenty of food. It was a strange new world in which everything was warm and soft, and no one ever hit you.

Maybe Jacqueline kept it there as a reminder of happier times, he thought. Whatever else had happened since, they had been happy that day, full of hope. He had let her down, he knew that. She had only wanted to give him a life worth living. He had hurt her with his aloofness, and she took his self-reliance as a rebuke. But he didn’t know any other way to be – he had been fighting too long to stop.

As Jonathan emerged from the shop carrying two plastic bags, Luca replaced the photograph and fixed it with the magnet hastily, almost guiltily, as if he shouldn’t have been looking at it. He felt almost as if he had been prying into someone else’s life.

‘Thanks for dinner,’ he said, when Jonathan dropped him off outside his building.

‘I enjoyed it. We’ll do it again soon, yes?’

‘Yeah,’ Luca said, as he opened the car door.


‘And come out to the house,’ Jonathan called after him, as he got out. ‘Don’t be a stranger.’

Luca waved as Jonathan drove off. Don’t be a stranger. He wasn’t sure he knew how to be anything else.