Will smiled and rolled his eyes at Rachel, as if to say, here we go. “I meant from the flight. Being stuck in economy for twelve hours with legs this long is punishing.”
“My heart bleeds for you.” Jack sighed theatrically. “What can I get you?”
“I’ll have a pint, please,” said Will, as he put his arm around Rachel.
“So, what have you been up to?” she asked. “How was your time at the monastery?”
“Intense,” said Will. “Let’s just say that two months was plenty long enough to know that it wasn’t what I wanted.”
Rachel had looked at him: so worldly-wise, yet still so vulnerable. At thirty-three, he was seemingly no nearer knowing what it was he did want.
He meandered from one low-paid job to the next, flitting between countries and continents as casually as if it were a routine commute. Sometimes, Rachel envied his bohemian lifestyle, his ability to put down roots wherever he landed, no matter how shallow they were. But mostly she worried, like an over-protective big sister, whether he was ever going to be able to settle down in one place long enough to meet someone and start a family of his own.
She could never have guessed that, that very night, her prayers were going to be answered.
“You must miss having such a live wire in the office?” offers Paige now with a hint of sarcasm that only those who know her well would hear.
Jack looks at her with raised eyebrows. “Her absence is noticeable” is all he says.
“Aw, that’s so sweet,” gushes Ali, leaning over to rub Jack’s arm. “I’m pleased that I’m missed.”
Rachel squirms on his behalf.
“So, you’re working for David Friedman’s company now?” asks Noah, no doubt feeling the chill in the atmosphere.
Ali nods animatedly.
“Have you met him yet?”
“Yes,” says Ali, smiling broadly.
Paige throws a scathing glance in Rachel’s direction that says, “She’s probably sleeping with him.”
“That must be pretty exciting,” Noah goes on. “Is he just like we see him on TV?”
“Nicer,” says Ali. “He used to have a reputation as being a bit mean when he first started on the judging panel of Star Maker…”
“Yes, I remember,” says Rachel. “But he’s a bit more chilled out now.”
“Well, he’s even more so behind the scenes,” says Ali. “I really like him.”
“You’d think that someone like him would be able to spot them a mile off, wouldn’t you?” says Paige, almost to herself.
“Them?” questions Ali.
“The kind of women we’re talking about,” says Paige, proving her reputation that once she’s got the bit between her teeth, she doesn’t let go.
“The women you’re referring to don’t all wear short skirts and have a sign over their heads,” says Ali.
“True enough,” says Paige.
“If you’re implying…?” Ali starts, before stopping herself.
“I’m not implying anything,” says Paige.
“Wearing the clothes I want makes me feel empowered,” says Ali, sounding a little more authoritative than Rachel has heard her before. “If a man happens to find that attractive or misconstrues it to mean that I’m coming on to them, then so be it, but make no mistake: I’m the one in control. Not them.”
“You sound as if you’re speaking from experience,” says Paige.
“Anyone want another drink?” blurts out Rachel, in an attempt to change the subject. She looks to Noah, wide-eyed, but he offers a reassuring wink and a nod to the almost-full bottle sitting on the table.
Ali sighs. “There was a time when I foolishly believed that sleeping with someone would further my career. But obviously it only served to cut it short.”
“So, you learned your lesson?” asks Paige, almost triumphantly.
“That wasn’t the lesson,” says Ali bluntly. “Finding out he had a wife was.”
3
The men laugh nervously, as Rachel and Paige look at each other in shock. Not because Ali had done it, Rachel supposes, but that she’d happily admit to it.
“You’re a real ad for the sisterhood, aren’t you?” says Paige sarcastically.
“P…,” cautions Noah.
“What?” she replies haughtily. “I’m just stating the facts.”
Noah looks wearily at Rachel, as if asking for an ally in the uphill struggle he finds himself in, and she finds herself torn between the two of them, not knowing who to back.
She takes a deep breath. “If Ali wasn’t aware she was breaking the code until it was too late, she can’t really be held accountable,” she offers, hoping it’s enough to appease both sides.
“Assuming she stopped it the minute she found out, you mean?” questions Paige, as if Ali isn’t there.
“Exactly,” says Rachel. “And that’s what happened, right?” She crosses everything in the hope that Ali says yes.
“Of course,” she enthuses. “What woman would sleep with a man they knew belonged to someone else?”
Noah laughs. “Depends if he’s Bradley Cooper or not.”
Rachel can’t help but love him for trying to break the vicious circle they seem trapped in.
Ali smiles. “Would you sleep with Bradley Cooper?” she asks Rachel.
“If he was married, or I was?”
They all laugh—even Paige, whose edges are being slowly softened by the alcohol. Another couple of glasses should see off all those sharp corners, and Rachel can’t get there fast enough.
She looks to Jack, as if weighing up her answer. “Mmm,” she muses. “If he was married, then definitely not. But if I was…”
“You are so cheap,” says Jack, laughing and throwing a cushion at her. “Don’t y’all be thinking that it would stop there either. Bradley is one of many on her long list of lucky men she’d get with if she had a hall pass.”
“A hall pass?” questions Ali with a vexed brow. “What’s that?”
“You don’t have a hall pass?” says Rachel in mock shock.
Ali looks at Will, confused and shaking her head. “No, I don’t think so.”
“I’m not sure there’d be enough passes to go around,” snipes Paige, but nobody seems to acknowledge it apart from Rachel, who throws her an admonishing glare.
“So, a hall pass is a one-night-only ticket that’s given to you by your partner to spend with a celebrity.”
Ali looks at her open-mouthed. “For real?” she gawps.
“No, of course not,” says Rachel, unable to believe this girl’s ditziness at times. “It’s just a fantasy game.”
“Ooh,” Ali exclaims theatrically. “I didn’t have you down for the role-playing type.”
Rachel is taken aback, offended by the slight and wondering what it is about her that makes her look like she doesn’t enjoy a satisfying love life.
There’s only thirteen years between her and Ali, but it may as well be thirty for the way she makes her feel. While Ali’s so full of zest and energy, seemingly ready to take on whatever life happens to throw at her head-on, Rachel feels dull and worn-out in comparison.
She self-consciously runs her hands through her hair, questioning whether she looks even older than she feels. She’d always kept her hair long, believing it made her look young and attractive, but perhaps that was only from behind nowadays. The thought of someone seeing her turn around and saying, “God, I thought she was going to be younger than that,” makes her squirm with embarrassment. Of course, she chooses not to acknowledge that she still has the figure for someone to make such a mistake.
When Ali looks at her, laughing at something she can’t hear because the roar of self-doubt circumnavigating her brain is so much louder, Rachel wonders what she sees. Has all trace of the ambitious career woman, who loved to live spontaneously, all but vanished? Has it been replaced by a wholesome motherly figure who looks like she spends her days knitting and listening to classical music?