Page 150 of Wife After Wife
Caitlyn’s boss had taken her to lunch to discuss the short list of interviewees they’d drawn up for Caitlyn’s replacement. After the wedding, she was leaving to pursue the TV career that had opened up as a result ofDirty Rascals.
So far, all they’d discussed was Harry.
“Mister who?”
“I’ll get you the DVD. Now look—what are you doing about Frankie?”
“Not this again. I’m onto it.”
“But are you?” said Florence. “Darling, things are different now. You can’t muck a man like Harry Rose about. Frankie needs to be an ex.”
“I haven’t seen him in weeks. Just a couple of texts.” She didn’t add that this was because he was on a tour of the States with Chaos.
Caitlyn had been putting off dealing with Frankie. After she’d finishedDirty Rascalshe’d turned up, after weeks away, with a bunch of flowers. They were from the corner shop, but it was still a first-ever. He’d stayed for three weeks, coming and going in his usual lodger-with-benefits fashion. During that time he’d tried to convince her he should become her manager, in spite of Chaos’s success—he could easily do both.
It had been the first time she’d refused him anything, and there had been major sulks, a couple of explosive rows. But she’d stood her ground.She’d already made a verbal agreement with a major talent agency. He must understand that was the best thing for her career?
She’d told him how it had all begun, how during the date at the Oxfordshire hotel she’d sold Harry on the idea of the reality TV show.
“He gonna pay you for that?”
“It wasn’t actually my idea—just that he should do a reality show. The concept was dreamed up by his team at Rose. They’re cool people.”
“But it wouldn’t have got made without you feeding him the idea, right?”
“I like to think so.”
“So he owes you, babe. Don’t forget that.”
“I thought you’d be more concerned about the fact that I’ve been sleeping with him, Frankie. I know you said no ties, but don’t you mind at all?”
“You don’t turn down the chance to be Harry Rose’s bitch. Look where it’s got you already.”
How could someone with such a sweet face say such horrible things?
“I’m not his bitch. God, I hate that word. Look, if heisserious, you and me will have to cool things. He’s old-school, you know? Won’t want to share.”
“Yeah, well. It’s your body, not his. You get to share it with whoever you want.”
“Earth to Caitlyn?” said Florence.
“Sorry. Yes, I will sort it out. It’s just... I guess it’s hard to break up with someone when you’ve never been properly together. Frankie just comes and goes. He’s not really my boyfriend.”
“But you still sleep with him.”
“Well... yes.”
“So just tell him, only friends from now on. No one’s saying you can never see him again.”
“Right. Good plan.”
Florence leaned across the table and took Caitlyn’s hand. She lookedup in surprise. Hard-nosed PR trout Florence wasn’t given to displays of affection.
“Caitlyn, when I met you, you were barely surviving. Now you’ve overcome an abusive background, resisted all sorts of crappy influences, and you’re making something of your life. You’ve started to believe in yourself. And so you should—you’re a great girl. Harry could take his pick, but he’s chosen you, probably because he’s seen the same things in you that I saw.”
Was it true? Could Harry really see beyond the buffed, toned facade she worked so hard to maintain, and not be appalled at what lay beneath?
“I think he just likes my arse.”
