La Picole
6pm
Carol kicked off her Louboutins and set her bags on the floor. Flinging the keys onto the table she surveyed her surroundings and exuded a sigh of relief. She couldn't have been in the penthouse for three years, but it still looked the same. A fresh, minimalist comfort that could only fit with New York, despite the chaotic world beyond those magnificent glass walls. She walked over to the sleek, cream sofa and delicately collapsed, turning to face Danny. He could tell that she was oblivious to the view in the background; these were the luxuries that she took for granted. Perhaps it was because she was a luxury. This woman seemed like perfection - she had a right to fit in with the New York skyline, a cacophony of brash colours that seemed to fit like an intriguing jigsaw, - each piece was so different and alive that one never tired of looking at it. No, she didn't just fit in with this background. Carol made it.
Danny now saw the genuine concern in her eyes when he slowly realised that he had failed to answer her. 'Danny...Is everything ok?'
'Yes Mrs Aird...Sorry I...this apartment is truly beautiful.' There was no point in even trying to hide his awe.
After stretching lethargically she got up and sauntered over to him:
'Well thank-you, I ought to refurbish it but I hardly ever come here anymore... ' Her voiced trailed away and Danny followed her eyes as they suddenly seemed very interested in the floor. 'Well anyway' she suddenly looked back up at him with a perfect smile, the moment of insecurity was so fleeting; Danny became uncertain that he hadn't imagined it in the first place. 'The flight was so tiring, I have done it so many times yet I'm still not used to it. I'll leave you to get some rest. Your room is the first on the left, please make yourself at home. Use the phone to call your wife, whatever.'
'Thank-you Mrs Aird'
'Don't mention it.' Her voice already dispersing in the air around him like the finest drops of perfume.
8.30pm
Carol's eyelids finally betrayed her as she slowly became more conscious. With a groan she twisted and stretched across the silken sheets to check her phone. 8.30pm, she had only managed to drift off for two hours at the most. Great. With a sigh she swung out of the king size bed, phone in hand and walked to the wardrobe.
It was too much effort to change again so Carol haphazardly slipped on her favourite tartan robe and walked to the kitchen to make some coffee. Drumming her fingers on the counter whilst waiting for the water to boil she noticed a note:
Mrs Aird, -
Some of my photography school friends found out I was in town and I've gone to grab some drinks with them. I would have told you but I didn't want to wake you. If you need me give me a ring.
D
After looking quizzically at the coffee pot, she guiltily turned her attention to the cigarette box and decanter of whiskey with its crystal glass near the balcony in the front room. She pulled the robe a little tighter and stepped outside.
The wind rushed past her, it was relentless and cold up here but it woke her up more than the coffee ever could have.
Maybe this is what she needed, to be alone. If Carol was being completely honest with herself she didn’t fly halfway across the world exclusively for work purposes; nor did she jump at the chance because she wanted to accompany Danny. Hell, she had had enough of men, - a car crash of a marriage was enough for one lifetime. Without Harge she never would have been gifted with Rindy though. Despite all her achievements, - Carol knew other women would literally kill for her reputation; - her daughter was the incomparable and most important being in her life. At 16, Rindy looked exactly like her mother, well a more youthful version, but from the prints of her younger self and her daughter hanging around her office, clients found them indistinguishable. Like her name, Nerinda was a water lily, pale, marvelous and glowing. She was currently studying at politics at Oxford, she was naturally adept at languages (thanks to her parents differing nationalities), and had also picked up Swedish from the au pair that brought her up. Carol sighed, she felt as though the stress was evaporating from her body. At times she wished she could have been a better mother. If she wasn’t so caught up in her merciless ambitions she may have been able to save her marriage for the sake of her child, instead of getting distracted…
9.45 pm
Carol supported her head by resting her elbows on her knees. She rubbed her temple, the mindless circles becoming so hard that they almost hurt.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
She regretted nothing and everything. Abby had been the best comfort in those dark places; she couldn’t fault what she’d done. Silently helping her through the divorce after Harge found out about everything, helped her with Rindy and even leaving her dream job at Le Monde to be with Carol and check up on her at work. It was difficult to comprehend, but Carol felt trapped. She owed Abby so much, sex was the least she could do for someone who was clearly infatuated with her, someone she would be ever indebted to. Besides, she had enjoyed what they shared in the beginning hadn’t she? She couldn’t hurt Abby, Abby kept her sane. All Carol seemed to do was destroy everything she touched. But would she rather be in her natural state, - an inferno, even if she decimated everything she wanted? It must be better than whatever this was. Now she felt trapped, like a bird in a cage that couldn’t get out. She was an exhibit to all of the curious eyes that peered in but their sole purpose was one of superficial prejudice, looking at appearance only, deaf to her panicked screams.
Angrily running her hands through blonde hair that was now arranged in tangled disarray, Carol downed the last of her drink, stubbed the cigarette and stormed inside.
She redressed her makeup with lightening speed, - just a touch of blush and red lipstick were necessary before selecting a white blouse – casual looking but of the highest quality, beige trousers and nude court shoes, simply because they were at the top of the suitcase she opened. Yes, Carol was a formidable fashion designer and resident of one of the most prestigious fashion houses, but if she was confident that no one would recognize her she couldn’t care less about her clothes. Right now all she could think about was another drink. It was no fun drinking alone and feeling down, even when you had a constant supply of nicotine and numbing jazz music in the background.
10:11pm
Before Carol knew it she was prowling the sidewalks, oblivious to any unassuming tourist or commuter in her way. Her eyes scanned Madison Avenue for a less than glamorous luminescent bar sign, any establishment that promised a good whisky and the company of attractive people, - she was past caring now.