Page 44 of In This Together

‘You did good, Andi. I’m proud of you.’

Her porcupine prickles softened slightly. ‘I don’t think proud is a word you could use in the same sentence with my name and Hunter’s.’

Hannah came to her side. ‘You’re doing the right thing, now. Here.’

Andrea looked at the small piece of paper Hannah held out with a phone number on it. ‘What’s that, the number of a good therapist?’

Hannah smiled. ‘Tommy left it on his way out. In case you changed your mind and don’t have his new number. I figure, since you need a date tonight…’

* * *

Tommy’s penthouse apartment was amongst the quieter streets of downtown, in the Tribeca district, nestled, Andrea knew, alongside other A-listers, like Beyoncé and Jay-Z, Justin Timberlake and Jessica Biel, Taylor Swift. Celebrities in New York tended to congregate in clusters, where their security could almost be shared.

She paid the cab driver and headed inside the building after being buzzed in and presumably checked off a list at the front desk.Tommy Dawson Girl Number 6,000, tick!

The concierge at the front desk told her to wait in the vestibule, where she was met by one of Tommy’s security who had been at the office earlier today. ‘Ms Williams, I’ll take you up.’

She rolled her eyes. These guys must be versed in picking up women at the front desk for Tommy. ‘It’s Andrea, or Andi. And you are?’

‘Mike,’ he said, turning his back on her and pressing the button to call the elevator.

‘Well, it’s nice to see you for the second time in a day, Mike.’ Her heels clicked on the marble floor tiles as she followed him into the elevator. ‘Nice to learn your name, too.’

They rode five floors in silence. Andrea slipped off her leather jacket, fussed with her first-time-on blouse, and checked her skinny jeans were sitting right against her strappy shoes. ‘Just so you know, Mike, I’m not like the other girls. I’ve known Tommy for years. We used to work together.’

Mike was unresponsive, his hands held together in front of him, his suit from earlier today having been replaced by a black, long-sleeved top and black slacks that showed his impeccably muscled frame.

Well, whether he responded or not, she knew herself that she wasn’t like the other girls. She wasn’t just coming here for a lay. No, she was coming here to chat. To catch up with an old friend. And, above all else, to give her a genuine excuse to avoid a certain person whose name would not cross her lips tonight.

There were only two doors on the top floor of the building. Mike led the way to one, knocked and opened it. Before she even stepped inside, Andrea heard the unmistakable sound of U2 and B.B. King’s ‘When Love Comes to Town’. Ironic, given magazines had, on more than one occasion, likened Tommy to the greatness of Bono.

‘Damn, I love this song.’ Mike took her leather jacket, in silence, and hung it on a coat stand by the door. ‘You know, they recorded this track in Sun Studios, Memphis. The old-fashioned way.’

‘And you were just a little girl with pigtails in your hair when this was recorded.’ She turned to see Tommy, barefoot, which was something of an irrational turn-on. He came toward her wiping his hands on a towel, wearing stonewash jeans and a black fitted T-shirt with a chain hanging down the front and his usual leather bracelets around his wrist.

‘You’re giving away my age,’ she said coyly.

‘Hey, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Don’t I know it. You ought to be twice your age for everything you’ve accomplished.’

She laughed. ‘Starting with compliments. I thought I told you this wasn’t a date. What’s with the towel?’

‘I was breaking ice and it was fucking freezing.’

‘You don’t say,’ she said, chuckling.

‘Come on, smart ass, I’ll show you aroundmyoffice.’

He headed down the rosewood floor of the corridor, the white walls of which were covered in framed prints. She glanced behind her to see where Mike was but he had vanished. ‘Where’d the guard dog go?’ she called out, slowly making her way past each of the prints.

‘The team lives in the apartment next door,’ Tommy called back.

‘Sure they do,’ she muttered to herself.

Her shoulders moved of their own volition in time to the music as she took in the framed images – Jimi Hendrix playing at Woodstock, the Rolling Stones live at Earls Court, Led Zeppelin at the Los Angeles Forum. She followed the prints to the end of the corridor, where she inhaled the scent of something spiced and exotic, her stomach rumbling in response.

She tried not to look in awe as she stepped into the vast open space of the apartment, with views as far as New Jersey. The theme of whitewash walls and music memorabilia continued. The space was big and had little furniture, but something about it felt comfortable, homey even. Perhaps it was the smell of food. Or the fact Tommy really did have an electric fire on one wall in front of two large L-shape sofas that formed a broken U around a cow-skin rug.

She had been in celebrity homes, frequented more charlie parties in celebrity homes than she could count, such was the industry. But Tommy’s pad was impressive.

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