Page 17 of Faking It (and falling in love)
Chapter Thirteen
Philippa had managed to get the hair coiffing time down to five minutes after her initial twenty minute session a few days earlier. Her wrist was much less painful now, which helped. She’d chosen her favourite dark blue suit to wear, along with a silky, light blue, fitted shirt. Makeup on, complete with trademark red slash of lipstick, she looked in the mirror and liked what she saw. She looked like she felt. She’d never known that was even a thing.
She picked up her phone to see a text from Alex confirming she was ready and would meet her at the restaurant bar early, so they could have a drink and appear to have arrived together.
Philippa felt butterflies in her stomach and had to keep reminding herself repeatedly that this wasn’t a real date. It had occurred to her that someone as experienced as Alex wouldn’t be interested in a ‘newbie’ like her anyway. She took a deep breath and stepped out of her front door. There was a cab waiting for her.
“Ooh,” said the taxi driver as she got in, “who’s the lucky guy?”
Philippa rolled her eyes, and for the first time in her life, said: “Lucky girl, actually.”
“Oh, yes, of course. I shouldn’t have assumed,” bumbled the driver, holding one hand up in apology. “I love Gay Pride.”
Philippa sighed. She’d never even been to Pride. She looked down at her phone, hoping not to have to engage in further conversation. She was still concentrating on the upcoming evening.
“And of course, love is love, isn’t it, darling?” he continued.
“Yes, of course.” Philippa smiled politely, starting to feel uncomfortable and wondering if she should have just smiled and nodded at the man in the first place. But she knew, deep down, that she had no reason to doubt her own behaviour.
Happily, the man piped down, allowing Philippa to continue to obsess over her date that wasn’t really a date. She hadn’t even started to consider the pressure of maintaining the fake relationship in front of Gerry. She’d managed to lock that up in the black box in her brain, thankfully.
She arrived on Colmore Row at the bottom of a large new tower block. The restaurant was on the twenty-third floor, while the bar was on the ground floor. She brusquely waved off the taxi driver and headed inside the bar.
The bar was tastefully decorated, exuding a subtle flavour of luxury without losing its elegance. The central bar was lit perfectly, and a barman was already mixing cocktails.
“Good evening,” said Alex. Philippa’s head whipped round. Alex had a habit of sneaking up on her and this time, once she’d turned her head, Philippa’s mouth dropped open. Alex was wearing a draping sleeveless top that showed off her arms to perfection, over some well-fitting black trousers. She had a chunky silver chain around her neck, her trademark bangles, and her highlighted light brown wavy hair glowed. Philippa wondered briefly whether Alex might be a mermaid, temptingher to her death, before mentally slapping herself. She needed to get a grip.
Alex smiled and leaned forward to kiss Philippa’s cheek. God, she smelled heavenly, too. She was wearing some kind of perfume or cologne that somehow enhanced everything. Philippa could feel herself flush as Alex spoke again. “You look gorgeous, love this suit. Very classy.” She nodded approvingly. “I’ve just ordered a porn star martini. Can I get you an espresso martini?”
Philippa finally found some words, “Yes, please.” She smoothed down her jacket. “And you look lovely, too.” She knew she sounded prim and starchy, but it was all she could do not to melt in a puddle on the floor. This could well end up being a terrible, terrible mistake, she realised, not just for her personal life but for her professional one, too. She felt like a fawning school girl.
Or a seaman being tempted onto the rocks.
Philippa took a seat beside Alex at the bar. “How’s the wrist?” Alex pointed at the brace poking out of Philippa’s sleeve.
“Oh, much better, thanks.” Philippa absent mindedly covered the brace with her other hand. “I should be able to take this off soon.”
“Well that’s good,” said Alex, her freckles dancing. “First rule of being a lesbian, wrist injuries can be very inconvenient.”
“How so?” Philippa furrowed her brow.
Alex gave her a wicked grin. “Same reason we all have short fingernails.” She wiggled her perfectly formed hands, and Philippa suddenly realised what her fake girlfriend was saying.
Philippa blushed. “Honestly,” she said, feigning disapproval.
“You love it,” said Alex. “But seriously though, I’m glad you’re feeling a bit better. It looks so much better and less swollen than when you did it.”
Philippa nodded and asked Alex about her day. “Oh, it was fine,” said Alex. “I’m working with a new client, so lots of conversations today about vision and brand and stuff like that. They came to me for a new logo. And of course, as I’m sure you know, a new logo in isolation is of fairly limited value. Don’t get me wrong, I’d happily do that for them and charge them for the pleasure, but I feel like it’s right to have the bigger conversation with them. What do they do? Why do they do it? How do they want people to feel? That’s where the really interesting conversation comes through.”
“That’s really interesting,” said Philippa. “I’d never thought about it like that. I guess it’s a bit like with my clients. I always start by asking what it is they want. I can obviously advise on the law, but ultimately, it’s their choice how to proceed. Very few of my cases end up in court, it’s mostly mediation and paperwork, but navigating even that in family cases is incredibly stressful for my clients, and they need to understand that. My job is to support them, advise them and then take forward their wishes.”
“I bet you see all sorts of challenging scenarios,” said Alex, taking a sip from the cocktail that had just been placed in front of her.
Philippa picked up her own drink. “Cheers,” she said, clinking her glass with Alex’s. “Here’s to, well, us.”
“Cheers!” said Alex. “So, how about your dating exploits. Have you met anyone you want to date for real?”
The question threw Philippa. Because, of course, she had. But it didn’t sound like that was the question Alex was asking. “Nope, too busy working and parenting, I’m afraid,” said Philippa, breaking eye contact.
