Page 20 of Big Nick Energy
‘Oh no, Kay’s in publishing,’ Nick intervenes. I frown before quickly correcting my expression and giving a polite smile. It’s not a lie per se but I stop for a moment to get that story aligned in my head. I guess we haven’t really traded in much chitchat since we reconnected. He knows I collaborate with an illustrator and write the occasional kids’ book. Does he know I spend the majority of my time in a community library though? I’m a beastwith the Dewey decimal system. Can I unleash that knowledge now? It pains me that maybe this won’t be of any worth to them. There is another reason why he may have lied though, and I’m unsure how I feel about that.
‘Wow,’ Phil says. ‘Any of the big five?’ he asks.
To hell with it, I’ve had a drink and it’s a fancy night. ‘Penguin.’
‘Do you know Roger Miley? He’s one of their editorial execs? We climbed Everest with him two years ago.’
‘Oh yes, Roger. How’s his knee?’ I say. I have no bloody idea who Roger is but, truth be told, if I’m being asked to participate in this game then I want to have fun with it. Please don’t tell me Roger doesn’t have knees.
‘His knee?’ Meribelle asks. ‘He’s always been one of the fittest people I know.’
Shit. ‘Oh yes, I believe he hurt it playing in a pickleball tournament. I think he strained his patella.’
‘I’ll have to send fruit,’ she says. Well, at least Roger will have got something out of this.
I want to move this on but I smile at Nick who seems to be in a light panic that I’ve brought pickleball into the conversation. Do I bullshit about Everest now? I’ve seen pictures of it but that might be harder to fake and I’ve only had one drink.
‘Kay mainly works in acquisitions and commissioning at Penguin,’ Nick tells them. I turn my head swiftly to look at him. I do? OK, I can drag this out. Do I have to talk about Roger again?
‘Yeah, mainly liaising with agents and new talent.’
‘Anyone to look out for? Who’s the next big thing?’ Meribelle asks. ‘I’ll have to tell my book club.’
‘Well,’ I say, nodding and thinking what gets loaned out the most in our local library, ‘fantasy with erotic leanings is always going to sell big. I think the romcom is going to start making a strong comeback.’
Phil snorts immediately. ‘Fodder fiction then for lovelorn idiots.’
I stop in my tracks. ‘You say that but it accounts for a large proportion of the market. Nothing wrong with people wanting fiction that’s hopeful, bright, that soothes the soul.’
‘Well, you would say that if you’re getting all the profits,’ Phil says, guffawing in reply. I reckon Nick can read in my eyes that I instantly dislike this man. Can I hit him? Nick may remember that I hit someone in a pub once when we were together because he told me Jackie Collins was crap. I bet Phil reads fictional war books, speaks in tactical talk and has slightly masochistic tendencies that come out in the bedroom. Still, I keep smiling along with this charade. ‘Colesy, brandies later and we can talk about that merger offer,’ he says to Nick, doing a strange click of the fingers and pointing action at him.
‘It was lovely to meet you,’ Meribelle says, putting an arm to mine. She’ll feel this jumpsuit is synthetic won’t she?
They walk away and Nick turns to me sheepishly. ‘I am sorry.’
I fake a laugh. ‘Publishing?’
He sees the confusion in my face. ‘I panicked and I didn’t want them to judge you. They’re a bit high and mighty with all their Everest and Gucci talk.’
I feel a swell of disappointment that he would feel the need to keep up with the Joneses, but maybe I need to accept his excuse that he was trying to be protective. I take a sip from my drink and look out into the room again. Behind him the swing band break into song and people congregate on the dancefloor, including one man in a white tux jacket. ‘He looks like Marty McFly’s dad,’ I say.
‘Who?’ Nick asks, looking at me. And for a moment, I remember something that didn’t quite click with us. He never had a huge amount of pop culture knowledge. I am very much a film quotes and song lyrics kinda girl and that never translatedwith him. He used to look at me as if I was speaking in tongues. When I visited his family, they were very highbrow, happiest with a BBC4 documentary on the origins of space or Greek philosophy on the TV. There is time and space for both, I feel. I think it’s good pub quiz knowledge to amass as many random facts as possible.
‘Back to the Future,’ I say.
‘The one with the car.’
I nod, smirking. He senses me mocking him. Well, he’s told complete strangers a lie that shows that he doesn’t think my profession is good enough for public consumption. I think that makes us even.
‘Can you tell the next people that I’m a screenwriter and that I summer with Scorsese in Sicily?’ I say. ‘It’s a bit more glamorous than pickleball with Roger.’
He laughs again as someone walks past with a platter of tiny Yorkshire puddings, each topped with a perfectly cooked piece of rare steak and horseradish. ‘You were saying,’ Nick says.
‘He delivers again.’
‘Always,’ he says, whispering into my ear.
TEN
