Casanova

I sip my tea, feeling happy with myself—take that.

My email pings again and I open it.

Miss Landon.

Thank you.

Have a safe trip home this afternoon, don’t walk in front of a bus or anything.

I smile to myself. Stupid twat . . . you wish.

I stand and watch Rebecca run around the apartment like a chicken—Daniel is arriving at any moment. And boy oh boy, is Rebecca in overdrive.

“Don’t just stand there,” she snaps.

“What do you want me to do?” I look around the spotless apartment. “There is literally nothing left to clean. What is it with you and this guy?” I ask. “You’re hell-bent on impressing him. The fact that he’s gorgeous wouldn’t have anything to do with it, would it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snaps again. “I have a boyfriend, remember?”

“Oh, I remember, but do you?”

“Shut up,” she huffs.

The doorbell sounds and our eyes meet. “He’s here,” she whispers.

“Well.” I gesture to the front door. “Go and let him in.”

Rebecca nearly runs to the front door and opens it in a rush. “Hi.” She smiles.

It’s really hard not to roll my eyes.

“Hi.” He smiles as he looks between us. He’s got two big suitcases with him, he’s tall and blond, and I have to admit, he really is quite handsome. I don’t remember him being this good-looking when he came around to meet us before. No wonder Beck is breaking her back to impress him. “Here, let me help you with those,” I offer.

Beck looks out onto the street. “Do you have any more things you want help with bringing in?”

“Thanks, I’ve just got another two suitcases in my car. I can get them.”

“You remember Kate?” She gestures to me.

Daniel’s eyes come to me. “Yes, of course I do. Nice to see you again, Kate.”

I give an awkward smile—I’m always so weird in social situations. Until I get to know someone I’m really not friendly at all. Not by choice of course, shyness is a curse.

“This is your bedroom through here.” Rebecca plays tour guide, leads him through and shows him his room. “And this is my bedroom. Come upstairs and I’ll show you Kate’s bedroom,” she offers.

I follow them as she shows him around the apartment. My eyes roam up and down Daniel: he’s wearing black trousers, a black knitted sweater, pointy shoes, and a bomber jacket in camo green. His clothes are expensive and trendy; he really does look the part of the personal stylist.

“When do you start work?” I ask as I try and make conversation.

“I have four clients next week, and I have to find about fifty more as soon as possible,” he says.

I smile.

“But seriously, I start with Harrods next week, I’m going to be one of their in-house shoppers.”

Oh, what a hellish job—shopping is my living nightmare. Unsure what to say and feeling awkward, I hunch my shoulders. “I’ve never met a personal shopper before.”

Daniel smiles. “There aren’t too many of us.”

I take a suitcase from him and glance down at it: Louis Vuitton. Jeez . . . I think the suitcase is worth more than my car. He disappears down the front steps to the street and I peer out after him: he has a black new-model Audi. Why the hell is he sharing an apartment with two other people if he has all this expensive stuff?

Surely he would want to live alone?

I know I would.

He grabs another two suitcases from his car and once again they are beautiful black leather; I eye them suspiciously as he walks back up the steps. I wish I had good taste like this. I wouldn’t know what to buy even if I did have the money.

Daniel wheels his suitcases into his bedroom and looks between us as he puts his hands on his hips. “Please tell me that you girls are taking me out tonight. There’s no better way to get to know each other than over a few drinks.”

Rebecca’s eyes nearly pop from her head in excitement. “That sounds awesome.” She glances over to me. “Doesn’t it, Kate?”

Not really.

A fake smile. “Sure does.”

“Shall we go?” he asks.

“Now?” I frown. “You don’t want to put anything away first?”

“No, I’m good, it will still be there tomorrow and I have nothing to do until next week so it will give me a mission.”

An hour later, we sit at the bar in a restaurant, wine firmly in hand.

“So?” Daniel looks between the two of us. “What’s the story with you two, are you single or dating?”

“Well.” Rebecca smiles. “I have a boyfriend, Brett. And Kathryn here is trying to get an honorary membership to the nunnery.”

I laugh. “That’s not true. I’m just very picky.”

Daniel gives me a cute wink. “Nothing wrong with that. I’m quite picky myself actually.”

“And what’s your story?” Rebecca asks.

“Well . . .” Daniel pauses as if choosing the right words. “I am . . .” He pauses again.

“Gay?” I ask.

Daniel laughs. “I like women too much to title myself completely gay.”

“So . . .” Rebecca screws up her face as she tries to make sense of that statement.

“You’re bisexual?”

Daniel twists his lips as if thinking. “I wouldn’t say I’m bisexual. My natural attraction is toward women. But lately . . .” His voice trails off.

“What?” I ask, fascinated.

“A few years back I was partying with a few guys that I didn’t know that well in Ibiza. One of them was gay.”

“How many were you away with?” I ask.

“There were four of us in total.”

“So, three of you were straight?”

Daniel nods. “Maybe it was the sun, maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the cocaine, I don’t know, but something happened and we got a little randy, spent the weekend in bed, and now I have a bit of a fetish for men on the side.”

Rebecca smiles dreamily over at Daniel, as if this is the best story that she’s ever heard. And I can almost hear the cogs in her brain clicking, assessing how liberated he must be.

I sip my drink, equally fascinated with his story. “How does it feel to be sexual with somebody that isn’t your natural inclination?”

“Good. Perhaps a little kinky.” Daniel shrugs. “I think that’s what it is for me, I feel like I’m doing something naughty, something that I shouldn’t be doing but at the same time feels so natural. And I don’t know how long I’ll keep doing it, maybe not forever, maybe not much more at all. But whenever I do it, I don’t regret it. It doesn’t feel wrong, if that’s what you mean.”

“How many . . .” Rebecca’s voice trails off as she stops herself.

“You can ask me anything,” Daniel prompts her.

“How many men have you been with?”

Daniel narrows his eyes as he thinks. “Hmm, not many, I would say more than ten but less than twenty.”

“Jeez.” My eyebrows raise by themselves.

“What’s that look for?” Daniel smiles.

“Well, you said that you haven’t slept with many men. If that’s a low number for you what’s a high number? I mean . . . what are your numbers for women?”

Daniel laughs. “Too many to count, I’m afraid. I meet some beautiful people in my industry, sometimes the temptation is just too great.”

Disappointment fills me and I screw up my napkin and throw it onto the table in disgust. “I wish I was more like you,” I sigh.

“Meaning?”

“You know, all liberated and cool and”—I pause as I think of the right terminology—“I guess, free.”

Daniel’s face falls. “You don’t feel free?”

Oh God, why did I say that? Now I sound like a freaking drama queen. “What I meant is, I guess I would like to be in your shoes, you know, sleeping with whoever I wanted to for fun.”

“You don’t have sex for fun?” Daniel frowns.

This is all coming out wrong. “I mean, I have in the past. I guess I just got out of the swing of it as I got older.”

“How old are you?” he asks.

“Twenty-seven. I had a few boyfriends in high school and college, and then after that I had a long-term boyfriend. We broke up a year after my parents died.”

“Your parents died?”

I sip my drink; how did we get onto this subject?

Why did I say that?

“They were involved in a head-on collision car crash,” Rebecca replies; she knows how much I hate saying that out loud.

Daniel’s eyes come to me in a question.

“My mother died at the scene, my father died on the way to hospital. The driver that hit them had a heart attack and veered onto the wrong side of the road.” I feel the heaviness come over me as my chest constricts, and I glance up into the kind eyes of Rebecca, who gives me a soft smile and takes my hand across the table. I had just moved in with Rebecca at college when my parents died. She’s been my rock and a wonderful friend and has been there for me on many lonely sad nights.

“I’m so sorry,” Daniel whispers. “Do you have any other family?”

“Yes.” I smile. “I have a wonderful brother, Brad, and I have a sister who . . .” My voice trails off.

“Who what?” Daniel asks.

“Is a raving bitch,” Rebecca snaps. “I have no idea how the two of these girls are genetically related. They have nothing at all in common. Chalk and cheese.”

Daniel smiles in surprise as he looks between us. “Why, what’s she like?”

“Beautiful.” I sip my drink.

“Entitled and mean,” Rebecca interjects.

I smile sadly. “She’s not so bad. She’s taken our parents’ death the hardest and somehow her personality changed overnight. Brad and I have held each other up and limped along and yet, all she wanted to do is be on her own. She hasn’t handled grief the same as we have.”

“You don’t see her at all?” Daniel asks.

“No, I do see her,” I reply. “I’m just usually upset or ruffled after she leaves. You know when you spend time with someone and they kind of suck the life out of you. She likes money and fame and having the designer handbags and all her gorgeous boyfriends. I feel like”—I pause as I try to articulate myself—“I feel like she’s replacing our parents’ love with objects.”

“You don’t like designer things?”

“I guess.” I shrug. “Everyone likes nice things, don’t they? It’s just not my priority.”

“Kate is very good with her money,” Rebecca interrupts.

“That’s code for tight.” Daniel laughs as his eyes flick to me. “Are you tight, Kate?”

“I am not tight.”

“Oh, you are too,” Rebecca scoffs. “She won’t spend any money on herself at all and is always saving for a rainy day. She wears the same ten outfits and hides behind those big thick glasses.”