Private Lives

‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘The Gagosian are interested . . .’

‘Perhaps we could cut out the gallery?’

‘Why don’t you come and have a look at it after we’re done here? You don’t have to be anywhere, do you?’

He hesitated for a moment, then clicked his fingers for the bill.

‘Not until my Rolling Stone interview, no.’

She was glad of the forty-minute drive out to Malibu. Joe had been a tough nut to crack on set, but she knew he was someone worth getting to know a lot better.

Oh shit, she thought with a jolt as they pulled up at her home. My mother. She couldn’t take Joe Kennington back to her Malibu love nest and have him walk in on Barbara lying on the sofa in her velour sweatpants eating potato chips and watching Jersey Shore.

She slid her key into the lock and before she even had time to push the door fully open she could hear her mother’s sing-song voice.

‘Hi, honey. How was it being dead?’ said Barbara, appearing in the hallway.

‘Hi, Mom,’ Jessica replied, glancing back at Joe. ‘Not at the gym?’

‘At this time?’ she scoffed, stopping as Joe stepped forward.

‘And you must be Jessica’s sister,’ he said, offering her his hand. ‘I’m Joe.’

Cheesy bastard, thought Jessica, smiling despite herself. Barbara looked like a hooked fish, her eyes staring, her mouth opening and closing.

‘Joe Kennington. How are you?’ she said greeting him as if he was a long-lost friend.

‘Of course you’re at Sarah’s tonight, aren’t you?’ prompted Jess, hoping Joe hadn’t seen the warning glances she’d flashed at her mother.

Barbara winked at Jessica with all the subtlety of a brick. ‘Sarah? Oh yes. Friend of mine, having a few problems, you know. I’ll just grab the car keys. See you again, Joe, hopefully.’

With relief, Jess listened to the engine of Barbara’s SUV gun away, then calmed herself, listening to the gentle background swoosh of the ocean.

Joe was standing with his arms crossed in front of him, smiling with a gentle look of amusement.

‘It’s great you have such a close relationship.’

‘It has its moments. So. Drink? Vodka? Tequila?’

‘Not for me. Just a soft drink.’

Another teetotaller, she thought wearily.

She pulled a carton of juice from her Sub-Zero fridge, filled a tumbler and added a large measure of vodka when he wasn’t looking.

‘To the movie,’ she smiled, raising her own glass. ‘I’m sorry I took so long to die.’

Joe chuckled as they clinked the glasses together.

‘Well I guess you’d better show me this Clemente,’ he said.

‘This way.’ She snaked through the house to the top floor, swaying her hips just a little more than usual, knowing that Joe’s eyes were going to be glued to her ass.

‘This place might be too big now I’m on my own.’

‘How you holding up?’ he said with concern.

‘Truthfully, Sam and I had run our course. We’d both agreed that. But I wish it could have ended in a different way. The press intrusion has been tough.’