Page 34 of The Player

“Who’s Tom Selleck? Is he in the music business?”

“My grandmother was very keen on him. He acted and had a moustache,” I say airily. “I think it was the moustache that did the acting.”

He smiles at me. It’s powerfully bright and happy. “Anyway, I always wanted to say thank you. I fancied you right away, but you had a wedding ring on.”

“Yes, I was married at the time. We were all at the party.”

“I remember you too from the party,” he says, staring at Con. “Youwere in a band?”

“Yes, he was,” I say. “They were very famous. Probably before you were born,” I say pettily, getting one back at Con for laughing earlier.

“Wow,” he says. “So, you know the music business, then?”

“I do,” Con says with too much of a query in his voice.

“He knows it very well,” I say firmly. “But he’s a brilliant craftsman. You’d be lucky to have him make something for you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jimmy leans forwards. “So, was your husband at the party?” He pauses. “Wait. I thought Con was your husband. He stood by you all night.”

“Well, no,” I say awkwardly. “Con’s my best friend. My husband, David, was the dark-haired singer.”

“Not the man who surfed on a tray through Bob’s new patio doors and ended up in the pool?”

I wince. “That was him,” I say. “He was always the life of the party.”

“That’s epic,” he says, cocking his head on one side. “So, where is he?”

“He’s dead,” Con snaps.

“Con,” I gasp. “There are ways to say it.” Then I look at Jimmy. He seems genetically incapable of taking offence. Instead, he’s smiling at me.

“You’re not in a relationship, then? Lovely.” He pauses. “Sorry for your loss.”

I blink. “Thank you, and no, I’m not in a relationship,” I finally say warily. “Why?”

“Because you’re well fit, mate. Maybe you should stay around when Con goes. We could go to a party. There’s one at Cliff Samuel’s house.” He winks. “I promise you there won’t be four other men dressed the same as me.” He winks. “Especially if we get naked.”

I open my mouth, but at that moment, Con stands up. It’s an abrupt motion, and it sets his torture chair wobbling. “He won’t be doing that,” he snaps.

“Con,” I whisper, staring open-mouthed at him. His face is set and cold, but his eyes are tumultuous.

Jimmy stares at him. “Oh, okay, man,” he says in his easygoing manner. “Whatever you say.”

“I do say.” Con’s voice is cold and even. “Now, Frankie and I have a job to do, so how about we go about matching these guitars to your shoes, and then we can fuck off home.”

“Oh my god,” I whisper.“Con.”

Jimmy widens his eyes and stares at Con in wonder as if he’s witnessing the second coming. “That’s ageniusidea, man. I’ve got a new line with Nike. Let’s do that. I bet you fifty grand it trends on Twitter the first time I do it.”

“Let’s hope so,” I say faintly, but my admirer has deserted me. In awe at Con’s genius, which actually was acute sarcasm, he leads Con out of the room, and for the next two hours, he talks happily and extensively to Con.

I sit watching them in Jimmy’s studio. Con is running his fingers along a guitar he picked up as soon as we walked into the room. He’s talking knowledgeably, and Jimmy is hanging on his every word.

How is it that I can say something sarcastic and get told off by Joan for an hour, and Con can vomit snark all over this client and be treated as if he’s the next messiah?

My musing dies abruptly when Con looks up at me. His eyes are dark and mysterious, and despite his easy demeanour, I know he’s still cross at Jimmy. I sigh. I can’t see why. Jimmy is hardly Casanova. He’d never have had that many conquests if he called his partners old before he even got his tongue in their mouths.

I look at Con. He’s bent back over the guitar, and the sun picks out the gold gleams in his hair and shows the vulnerable back of his neck. I feel a sad ache in my belly, a yearning for something I’m never going to have. Because the truth is that Con’s never going to see me as anything other than his best friend’s husband. His ire at Jimmy mentioning David and making a pass makes that very clear. I wonder if I’d met him in some other way, would he have made a pass at me? What would my life be like if I’d gone home with Con that night and not David?

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