Page 61 of Ex in the City
I laugh.
‘Yeah, it’s still creeping me out,’ I tell him. ‘I’ll be glad to see the back of it.’
I head into the avocado-green bathroom where I quickly strip down to my underwear. My jumpsuit – what little there was of it,anyway – is soaking wet, there is no salvaging it without leaving it to dry. So I run some toilet roll under the tap and do my best to wipe down my sticky body, and then I dry it, and then I just stare at myself in the mirror for a second and laugh. This really isn’t how I saw tonight ending. I guess I’d better ask Dylan for a T-shirt or a hoodie, and maybe some trackies if he has some, so that I can put some actual clothes on. But, to ask him, I need to head back out there in my underwear, but it’s not a big deal, it’s Dylan, we were best friends, he’s seen me in my underwear before – it’s just par for the course, for everyone, on tour. Hmm, why do I feel nervous then? I zhuzh my hair a little – it looks a bit flat, from being inside my wig all evening – and check to make sure my make-up still looks okay. Then I grab Dylan his face wipes and head back to the bedroom, as confidently as I can, because if I don’t make it weird, then it isn’t weird.
As I walk back into the room, I notice the look on Dylan’s face immediately. I tip my head, curiously, but then I realise this is about more than me spooking him with my bra. Something is really wrong.
‘What?’ I prompt him. ‘What is it?’
‘Come here,’ he says, patting the space on the bed next to him.
I do as he says in an instant, handing him the face wipes, which he promptly uses. Oh, God, what does he have to tell me that is so bad he doesn’t think he should do it with face paint on?
‘What’s up?’ I ask him again. ‘You’re freaking me out.’
‘I don’t know how to tell you this,’ he begins softly. ‘I was moving the journals when a photo fell out of one. It’s of Rowan.’
‘Right, okay,’ I say. ‘So, what, Mr Campbell knew about the scam? Do you think he told anyone?’
Dylan takes an open journal from the bedside table.
‘Do you want me to read it to you?’ he asks. ‘Or…’
‘It’s okay, I’ll read it,’ I say anxiously. He’s really scaring me now.
I take the book from him – the log on me and Rowan – and read. Looking at the dates, it’s obvious this is about the scam, it’s dated not too long before I found out for myself. It says:
Nicole, kind Nicole, one of the only good ones on the street. These logs are for me, to keep a watch over the neighbourhood, and for future generations long after us to learn from. They were never meant for sharing and yet I must share my findings with Nicole, because Rowan is deceiving her. She needs to know. Of course, I can’t tell her, so, next time she brings me some shopping I will invite her in, and I will place the photograph in her bag, and she will have all the proof she needs. Rowan is betraying her. He is having an affair.
My heart sinks as those last five words blindside me. This isn’t about the scam at all. Rowan was cheating on me.
‘There’s a photo?’ I prompt Dylan, my voice cracking.
‘Yeah,’ he says softly.
‘Can I see it?’ I ask.
‘Are you sure?’ he replies. ‘You two are already over, right? You don’t need to see, you know he’s a bastard.’
‘Yeah, I just… I think I need to see how much of a bastard he is,’ I reply.
Dylan takes the photo out from under his pillow and there he is, Rowan, standing on our doorstep, locking lips with none other than Carrie. So my intuition was right, hewashaving an affair with her, they just also happened to be running a scam too. Incredible. Just when I think he can’t hurt me any more.
‘How could I be so stupid?’ I say.
‘You weren’t stupid,’ Dylan insists, taking my hand in his. ‘You trusted someone, there’s nothing wrong with that – he’s the stupid one.’
‘I mean, yeah, he’s a fucking idiot,’ I agree. ‘But I knew he wasn’t right for me. I knew he wasn’t the one. He was nice, he had a job, he had kids, he was a pillar of the community. He seemed like a catch, the kind of guy you were supposed to settle down with, and yeah, things were pretty flat between us, but that’s realistic, isn’t it? He didn’t set my skin on fire when he touched me, but I thought that was normal, I thought that only happened with…’
I pause for a second. I can’t say that.
‘I didn’t think you could have fire, with the kind of guy you were supposed to spend the rest of your life with,’ I say instead.
‘Sometimes the wrong ones look like the right ones,’ he tells me simply. ‘It’s easy for me to look at him and see a terrible person. The kind of guy who would rip you off, cheat on you – turn up to a party dressed as an addict for a laugh.’
I hold my breath for a second. I’ve never heard him use the A word before.
‘I’m so, so sorry for that,’ I tell him. ‘I had no idea he was going to do that – I didn’t ask him what he was wearing. I don’t even talk to him any more. But that was so, so unforgivably cruel of him and I will never, ever forgive him. Are you okay?’
