Page 43 of Private Lives

‘Hey, I’m just telling it like it is. You gotta do what’s right for you. But remember, what affects your career affects my career. And I need a new pool.’

The car stopped outside a wide cedar gate and the driver pressed an intercom to announce them. When the gate opened and the car passed down the drive, an enormous white Cape house in an acre of lawns came into view.

Sam stepped out of the car. He’d half expected to see newsroom helicopters roaring overhead, but he could hear nothing except the swoosh of the sea crashing on the shore and the squawk of gulls above him. He closed his eyes, inhaling the warm, salty air – a moment of calm before the storm. Eli buzzed his window down.

‘I’ll wait for you at that bar just by the highway,’ he said, leaning out. ‘Gimme a call when it’s all over. And Sam? Think of my new pool, huh?’

As the car’s tail-lights disappeared, Sam took a deep breath and walked to the door. Just as he was lifting his hand to knock, the door was wrenched open.

‘You’ve got a goddamn nerve!’

Barbara Carr, Jessica’s mother. The style magazines were always tripping over themselves to say how much the two women looked like sisters, not mother and daughter, but Sam had always thought Barbara looked like a waxwork of Jess that ha

d been left out in the sun.

‘How dare you come up here, you cheap bastard,’ she shouted. ‘Hasn’t she suffered enough?’

‘If you’ll just let me see her for a minute . . .’

‘She doesn’t want to see you,’ snapped Barbara. ‘She never wants to see you again.’

‘I understand that, but we obviously need to talk.’

‘Yeah? And what could you possibly say that would make this any better?’

‘I just want to tell her what happened.’

‘I think that’s pretty goddamn clear.’

Behind her mother, Jessica appeared. She was looking pale and serious, no make-up, her green eyes red from tears, her famous body enveloped by an oversized jumper. In photographs of her on the red carpet, she looked toned and perfect in those curve-skimming dresses showing acres of tanned flesh, but today, the voluminous sweater emphasised how tiny her body really was.

‘Hey, Mom,’ she said. ‘Just give us a minute.’

Barbara looked as if she was about to argue, then shrugged.

‘One minute. He’s not worth any more.’

Jessica turned and moved through the house, then out through glass doors that led on to the beach. Sam followed her and they walked on to the sand. Ahead of them there was a thin ridge of scrubby dunes to the left. Out to sea, across the sparkling Nantucket Sound, Sam could see Martha’s Vineyard shimmering in the distance.

‘Well?’ she said.

‘I’m sorry,’ he replied, taking a step towards her.

‘Don’t touch me,’ she snapped. ‘I don’t even like being this close. Say what you’ve got to say, then go.’

‘Please stay calm, Jess. I just want to explain.’

‘Explain? Explain? You want to explain that you’ve screwed a whore and humiliated me in front of the whole world? Excuse me if I can’t stay calm, Sam.’

‘It was wrong, I know that,’ he began.

‘Oh, it was more than wrong, Sam. It was career suicide, and I’m not letting you take me down with you.’

Sam felt his stomach turn over. He had seen people get on the wrong side of Jessica before and it hadn’t ended well for them. He’d always known she had a vindictive streak, but he’d never been on the receiving end and he certainly didn’t want to start now.

‘For one minute can we stop talking about our careers? This is nothing to do with them. It’s about me and you.’

Her eyes pooled with tears. ‘This is everything to do with our careers. We’re a brand, Sam. We stand for something. We’re wholesome and happy, a perfect young couple; everyone wants to be us. But you’ve messed all that up, haven’t you? All that work I put into it, it’s all gone. And for what? Some cheap slut in London who massages your cock and your ego. Is that all it takes to spoil everything?’