Shopaholic Takes Manhattan
Page 91

And I believed every moment of it. I had no idea it wasn’t real.
When, at long last, I hear the door opening, I feel almost sick with relief. I have a desperate urge to go and throw myself into Luke’s arms, burst into tears, and listen to him tell me it’s all right. But as he comes in, I feel my whole body contract in fear. His expression is taut and set; he looks as though his face is carved out of stone.
“Hi,” I say at last. “I… I wondered where you were.”
“I had lunch with Michael,” says Luke shortly. “After the meeting.” He takes off his coat and puts it carefully onto a hanger while I watch fearfully.
“So…” I hardly dare ask the question. “Did it go well?”
“Not particularly well, no.”
My stomach gives a nervous flip. What does that mean? Surely… surely it can’t be…
“Is it… off?” I manage at last.
“Good question,” says Luke. “The people from JD Slade say they need more time.”
“Why do they need time?” I say, licking my dry lips.
“They have a few reservations,” says Luke evenly. “They didn’t specify exactly what those reservations were.”
He pulls off his tie roughly and starts to unbutton his shirt. He’s not even looking at me. It’s as though he can’t bring himself to see my face.
“Do you…” I swallow. “Do you think they’d seen the piece?”
“Oh, I think so,” says Luke. There’s an edge to his voice which makes me flinch. “Yes, I’m pretty sure they’d seen it.”
He’s fumbling over the last shirt button. Suddenly, in irritation, he rips it off.
“Luke,” I say helplessly. “I’m… I’m so sorry. I… I don’t know what I can do.” I take a deep breath. “I’ll do anything I can.”
“There’s nothing,” says Luke flatly.
He heads into the bathroom and after a few moments I hear the sound of the shower. I don’t move. I can’t even think. I feel paralyzed, as though I’m crouching on a ledge, trying not to slip.
Eventually Luke comes out and, without even acknowledging me, pulls on a pair of black jeans and a black turtleneck. He pours himself a drink and there’s silence. Outside the window I can see right across Manhattan. The air is turning dusky and lights are coming on in windows everywhere, right into the distance. But I feel as though the world has shrunk to this room, these four walls. I haven’t been out all day, I abruptly realize.
“I didn’t have my screen test, either,” I say at last.
“Really.” Luke’s voice is flat and uninterested, and in spite of myself, I feel a faint spark of resentment.
“Don’t you even want to know why?” I say, tugging at the fringe of a cushion.
There’s a pause — then Luke says, as though with tremendous effort, “Why?”
“Because no one’s interested in me anymore.” I push my hair back off my head. “You’re not the only one who’s had a bad day, Luke. I’ve wrecked all my chances. No one wants to know me anymore.”
Humiliation creeps over me as I remember all the telephone messages I had to listen to this morning, politely canceling meetings and calling off lunches.
“And I know it’s all my own fault,” I continue. “I know that. But even so…” My voice starts to wobble treacherously, and I take a deep breath. “Things really aren’t great for me either.” I look up — but Luke hasn’t moved an inch. “You could… you could show a little sympathy.”
“Show a little sympathy,” echoes Luke evenly.
“I know I brought it on myself…”
“That’s right! You did!” Luke’s voice explodes in pent-up frustration, and at last he turns to face me. “Becky, no one forced you to go and spend that money! I mean, I know you like shopping. But for Christ’s sake. To spend like this… It’s bloody irresponsible. Couldn’t you have stopped yourself?”
“I don’t know!” I retort shakily. “Probably. But I didn’t know it was going to become such a… a bloody life-and-death issue, did I? I didn’t know I was being followed, Luke. I didn’t do this on purpose.” To my horror, I feel a tear making its way down my cheek. “You know, I didn’t hurt anybody. I didn’t kill anybody. Maybe I was a bit naive…”
“A bit naive. That’s the understatement of the year.”
“OK, so I was naive! But I didn’t commit any crime—”