Husband Stay (Husband #2) (19 page)

I could only stare
at Kamal in horror. How many other people had Jack blabbed that to?

“…so I naturally
assumed. You don’t seem like the one-night stand type to me.”

I could hear
Fritha saying
Super Slut
but I blocked that out. “Why would he say that?”
I glanced away from Kamal’s knowing look to stare blindly at the bank of
letterboxes on the foyer wall, my brain racing into damage control while Kamal
babbled on.

“…I didn’t believe
him at first. But when he said you had a mole up under your…” He glanced
pointedly at my left breast and I slapped a hand over my midriff. “
Kamal!
”

“You were asleep
on the lounge one day with your arm up over your head. Your tee shirt rode up.
It wasn’t my fault!” He actually sounded aggrieved.

Men.
Honestly.
“You’re my cousin!”

“So.” He hefted
the box. “This is awkward.”

I wanted to walk
off and leave him in the foyer, along with whatever Jack had sent me in the
box. But Kamal had brought it across town, and maybe I should be grateful. He
clearly thought he was doing me a favor, so I begrudgingly said, “Thank you.
But I’m in a hurry to get back to work.” I set off for the elevators. “So I
can’t stay and chat.”

“Pretend I’m a
delivery driver,” he grumbled from behind me, and I blushed. My newfound
forthrightness was tipping over into bad manners and that wasn’t fair.

I was nicer on the
trip upstairs, and when he’d plopped the box onto my small kitchen table and
looked around the art deco suite with suspicion, he delivered a lecture on home
security. Only after that was I able to shoo him out.

Then I was alone
with whatever Jack had sent me.

Nerves wound in my
stomach but I didn’t let myself build suspense. I pulled a knife out of the
drawer and slit the packing tape across the top and pulled it open to reveal
what appeared to be a box full of clear plastic packing noodles. I thrust my
good hand in and fished around, finally connecting with a box which I retrieved
and opened. Inside was a brand new cellphone, the same model as mine.

Suspiciously, I
swiped it open, and saw two things on the home screen. Speed dial to a contact
with an image of Jack, and a video. I swallowed nervously, but I wasn’t about
to be intimidated, so I clicked on the video. It opened to Jack, talking into
the screen. He looked to be seated and had no shirt, so all those delicious
muscles I’d caressed and clung to were on show.

Angel baby,
I’ve got a present for you. But don’t freak out. Nobody has this but you and
me. It’s private and I’m keeping it that way. I’m sorry I had to involve your
cousin, but I’m hoping I can convince him to deliver this to you. I’m not going
to follow him. I get that you want privacy, or you wouldn’t have moved out. But
I want something too. I want to remind you of how good we are together. Because
I want that again.

There was nothing
clever or cunning in his face. He looked honest, and raw, and maybe even
aroused. Had he been thinking about us? I barely had time to wonder about that,
however, before the intro was over and the next scene was a darkened room with
a more distant view of a bed with me lying on it, completely naked.

I caught my breath
in horror, my first thought—naturally—that I didn’t want this ending up on
YouTube. But then Jack came into the picture and sat on the bed beside me. He
must have taken this on our first night together, and when he ran a finger over
my breast, I was stunned at how my sleepy murmur affected him. His lips parted
while his fingertip circled my nipple and his erection grew, along with the
desire on his face.

It was so stark, I
could barely breathe. Then he slid his hand down between my breasts to glide
over my belly and I wriggled and murmured, still clearly asleep. But that
didn’t stop Jack from leaning forward and following his hand with his tongue.
It seemed impossibly intimate to be watching this on a phone, but when he
opened my legs and whispered, “
Come for me again, baby,”
I felt as
though I was there, and when that tongue slid into the soft folds and I moaned
in the video, I felt clutching sensations deep inside me, as if he was in my
apartment, touching me.

I’d never
experienced that before, and I had a moment of wondering if that was why men
watched pornography, because it was arousing. But this…it was a million times
more arousing watching Jack make me moan as his intimate exploration woke me to
pleasure. And after the orgasm that sounded so loud in my quiet apartment, I
didn’t feel embarrassed by my own ‘performance’. I was awed by how hungry these
two people were for each other.

It seemed crazy
that they wouldn’t do that again.

As if to nail that
thought into my mind, the scene faded out, and shirtless Jack flicked back onto
the screen.
There you have it Angel. The next part is up to you. This will
either be something to remember me by, or something that inspires you to call
me. I’m in town for two days. That’s a whole lot of orgasms…

I swallowed
tightly, and as the screen went blank, I resisted the urge to immediately hit
play again. Watching that superlative sex would be addictive, and I mustn’t
start. Tonight I would have time to think about this. Nothing needed to be done
now. I could just go to work. But as I put the phone down on the kitchen table
beside the box, my stomach swirled sickly.

Damn all this
drama. I went to the fridge and pulled out a container of plain Chapati
flatbread I’d made yesterday. When I’d microwaved some, I chewed through them
slowly. It was bland, but it settled my stomach enough for me to change back
into my white jeans and loose white sweater. Then I hid Jack’s phone in the
back of my bedside table.

I wasn’t sure why.
No one had the key to my apartment but me. Maybe I was hiding it from myself.
But as I stood thinking about that, my own cellphone rang. It was Rosie.

“Sweet cheeks,
have I got a surprise for you!”

Another surprise
was the last thing I wanted, but I pasted on a smile and said, “What?” It
couldn’t be a recording contract. I was going indie. So…

“Sunshine
wants
you on at 8am tomorrow for a promo. Tug Dunn rang me himself.
”

I swallowed down
another surge of nausea, telling myself firmly that this was
good.
Sunshine
was the highest rating breakfast show in Australia. Tug Dunn was a
celebrity in his own right, and he was so well connected, I could easily understand
why Rosie was thrilled that I’d be interviewed by him. I just…felt sick.

“Will I be
singing?” The obvious question.

“
They’ve asked
for one of the Renee Geyer songs you sang for Noah, so they could segue to a
clip of you two together. I was thinking of
Take me where you took me last
night.
You’ve already recorded that so we can release it as a single
straight away, and they’ll promo it on the show.”

“Great.” There
wasn’t much more I could say. She certainly wouldn’t want to hear
I’m an
emotional mess, can I just have some time out to pull myself together.

“
Fab. So I’ll
cancel this afternoon’s recording sessions…”
I was about to give a sigh of
relief when she added, “
…because you’ll need a special outfit. I’ll send
Martine to pick you up in an hour. I’m thinking sexy-white.”

There was quite a pause
while I thought about that and she waited me out. At last I had to say,
“Nothing too revealing.”

“
I’m not
talking about a neckline that’s open to the waist. But…divas aren’t demure,
Angel. Our angle is the oxymoron of your name vs your appearance. You’re a sexy
angel. Slinky fabrics hugging those curves and a few cutouts with that glorious
golden skin of yours peeping out.”

I tried to imagine
what that might look like, but all I came up with was some form of Bollywood Beyoncé,
which didn’t feel like me. However, I’d promised myself that I’d trust Rosie,
and I assumed I had veto on any clothing. “Okay. Thanks for organizing that.”

“
My job.”
She
was good at deflecting gratitude.
“We need to be at the studio by 7am for
hair and makeup. I’ll pick you up at 6. Clean face and wear something casual.
Bring the outfit on a hanger.”

“Thanks, Rosie—”

I think she’d hung
up before she heard me, but that was okay. I had an hour before Martine arrive,
whoever she was—a stylist—and the temptation to get Jack’s phone out and watch
that video again warmed my cheeks. But I resisted. Instead I sent Louella a
text that said
The lunch date with Doug went terribly. He’s not for me.
Then
I tried to put the whole dating debacle behind me.

I had no idea what
the future held, but the
Sunshine
segment was right in front of me. Yes,
live television was a terrifying idea, but I’d been spending my lonely nights
going over Rosie’s directions on how to handle questions I didn’t want to
answer, and practicing the handful of funny anecdotes I had about growing up in
a strict Indian family surrounded by regular Aussies in the outback. I could do
this.

And maybe, just
maybe, it would be distracting enough to stop me thinking about Jack
languishing in a luxurious hotel room somewhere, ready and willing to blow my
mind.

That thought was
enough to make me glance at the bedside table, but I didn’t want to keep
letting that genie out of the bottle, so while I waited for Martine, I
practiced tomorrow’s song. Unfortunately,
Take me where you took me last
night
wasn’t the best way to try and forget Jack!

“Aren’t you a
stunner.” Tug Dunn ignored my extended hand and pulled me into a hug that made
me feel stiff and awkward, but when he stepped back and held me by both
shoulders—both
bare
shoulders—he was grinning as if I’d hugged him.

Part of my brain
said I should be swooning over his unnaturally white teeth and the crystal blue
eyes that had graced a hundred magazine covers. But his cheekbones were too
perfect under that trademark bundle of artfully tousled, sun-bleached hair. He
looked like a surfer doll come to life, and besides, I was very much aware of
the documentary team who were installed in the corner of the green room,
filming every breath. They’d followed my every move this morning and the
situation was so claustrophobic I wanted to scream.

“Yep,” Rosie said
from her stool in the corner, when I didn’t answer Tug. “She’s a star. Wait
till you hear her sing live. My staff are still talking about it.”

He finally let me
go, and I smoothed my good hand down the side of my too-short dress, hoping I
could magically create an extra few inches of length. Damn Martine and her
I’ll
take it home and steam it. Rosie can bring it in the morning
. She’d taken
up the hem to where it now sat at mid-thigh, way too short to sit down in
without showing panties!

The round neckline
still sat at my throat, but the cutout at the top of my cleavage looked
suspiciously larger than it had yesterday afternoon. Most of my back was on
show as well, which was disconcerting, but least I was reassured that the soft
white velvet that hugged my curves was thick enough to stop any backlighting
making it translucent. One blessing!

Tug hadn’t taken
his eyes off me, and when the silence went on a bit too long, I started to
wonder if he was actually flirting with me. Was that possible? I shot Rosie a
questioning glance and she slid off her stool and came to stand beside me and
put an arm around my shoulders. “Be nice, Tug. This is her first time live.”

He grinned, and
the effect was instantly dazzling. It was exactly the look I’d seen on all
those magazine covers. “She’s safe in my hands,” he said, and for a nanosecond
his gaze dropped to my breasts.

I felt Rosie’s
fingers tighten on my shoulder, then she let me go.

“So,” she said and
stepped forward to take Tug’s arm. “I want to see the cocktail bar set where
you’re interviewing Angel. We want to hide that cast.” It was Rosie’s
last-minute fix to ensure I didn’t need to sit down in such a short skirt.

Tug was on a break
while the news and weather aired, so I should have been honored that he’d take
time to meet me before our segment, but the whole episode was causing a bad
taste in my mouth.

“Of course.” He
held back a moment longer to scope out my legs before Rosie could pull him from
the room, leaving me to look at anything but the wall to floor mirror that I
knew
would show me a girl who looked like she was going to a nightclub, not a
breakfast television show. My only blessing in that moment was the documentary
team following her out.

I wanted to relax,
but after a minute of avoidance, I did look at the mirror, and I had to admit
the styling was sexy. Rosie had been thrilled with the dress, and the flutter
of tiny white feathers that appeared to be falling off one corner of the hem
was set to be part of my
brand
.

The sexy angel—so
sexy, her feathers were almost all shed. Even my cast had been hidden inside a
gauze construction that looked vaguely like collapsed wing. I understood what
they’d been trying to do. But I just…didn’t like it. It didn’t feel like me.

Rosie had
apologized for the hem, saying that Martine should have checked that, and not
just assumed I’d be fine with it. And maybe that was partly my fault. It had
never occurred to me that she’d alter the dress. We’d taken such pains to find
one that hugged my curves perfectly. But that was the trouble with this whole
undertaking. You could fill a manual with what I
didn’t
know. And Rosie
was trying to fill in the blanks, but she also wanted to move quickly with publicity
when it was available.

So I told myself
to smile and be professional. When I’d sold as many albums as Adele, then I
could think about being demanding. Until then, I needed to be as accommodating
as I could. So I did my warm up vocal exercises while I had the green room to
myself, ignoring the glass fronted fridge full of drinks and snacks. It was ten
minutes until I went on, so I had zero appetite for food.

Luckily, five
minutes later Rosie arrived with the documentary team and a female technician
who clipped a microphone to my bodice and tucked the tiny radio transmitter
around the back of my neck, behind my hair which hung in a dead-flat sheet
around my shoulders. She led us in silence around the back of the set, picking
our way over cables duct-taped to the floor. Rosie held my good arm to ensure I
wouldn’t trip in my new white heels which were so high that I felt perpetually
tipped forward.

At last we made it
to the edge of the set and the technician held up a hand to stop us where we
couldn’t be seen. The documentary team halted behind us and I tried to ignore
the fact that my ‘curvy’ backside and bare back would be filmed for all to see.

I could hear Tug’s
voice from the other side, laughing at something—teasing someone in that sexy
I’m
so beautiful you can’t resist me
way of his that made even the most
inappropriate suggestion funny. Now that I’d been subjected to his ‘charm’ in
person, it seemed the tiniest bit creepy.

But again, I told
myself to be professional. So I glanced at Rosie, planning to smile and
reassure her I was fine, but instead she gave me the thumbs up and mouthed,
Knock
their socks off!

I nodded.

In the next few
seconds we heard Tug say, “
After the break we’ll meet the outback diva who
stole Noah Steele’s heart…”
A bad pun and a huge exaggeration. But the
audience burst into applause and immediately after that, Tug’s previous guest—a
tall-dark-and-handsome who I recognized immediately as British restaurant
critic Maxwell Banks sauntered past us with a woman who was so beautiful she
had to be a supermodel. They both ignored us completely, which did nothing for
my nerves, and then the technician was tapping my arm and pointing toward the
stage.

I sucked in a deep
breath, remembered my friends would be watching, excited for me, and that
brought a completely natural smile to my face as I stepped around the cables
and into the light where the live audience could see me.

It was an ad
break, so the cameras weren’t on me, but I waved at the audience all the same,
and many of them broke into spontaneous applause, which buoyed my spirits.

“Over here darlin’,”
Tug said, standing to one side as a new set swiveled onto the stage, complete
with a chrome and black leather cocktail bar and a tiny circular stage beside
it. By the time it had stopped moving, I’d reached Tug and he took my good hand
to help me up the stairs, which was thoughtful considering the height of my
heels. But he didn’t let my hand go as we walked around the back of the
cocktail bar. Then with his back to the audience he said, “Honey, you are so
hot, you should come with a fire extinguisher.”

His voice was
pitched low and husky, I couldn’t stop myself pulling my hand away, surprised
that he’d be so overt, but he just smiled, as if it was all part of some game I
didn’t know the rules of.

Then someone
behind me said, “Back live in ten, nine…”

Tug turned side-on
to the audience and pointed silently to where I should stand, facing him. I
shuffled over quickly, then he pointed two fingers at my eyes, then swiveled
those back to his eyes.

Okay. Look at him.
Not the camera.

Then I heard,
“Six, five…” and nothing. Rosie had told me the last five seconds were silent,
and even the audience was eerily still.

Then Tug abruptly
smiled, and I realized we must be on, so I smiled back just as he turned to the
audience and said, “Welcome back to
Sunshine
, where this morning we’re
all
about
sexy. First that bad boy of Brit cuisine, Maxwell
Banks. And now, Australia’s own Bollywood diva, the woman who’s had over a
million YouTube views since her impromptu performance with Noah Steele at a
recent restaurant opening in Belandera. Welcome to
Sunshine,
Angel
Lata!”

He turned back to
me with a beaming smile, and for a second I felt light-headed, as if I was in a
dream. But then I remembered Jill and Fritha and Louella watching, not to
mention my family, so I grinned back as cheekily as I could and said, “Thank
you, Tug. It’s exciting to be here.”

“Hmmm, yes,
exciting,” he crooned, as he moved in closer, and it took all of my self-control
to remain still and smile. “I have to say, I can see why our mate Noah was
enamored with you.”

A smattering of
laughter came from the audience but it sounded forced, and I wondered if the women
I’d just waved to were as outraged as I was by his blatant sexism. Unbidden, something
hot and hard solidified in my chest and I raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Noah was
feminist enough to find the lyrics of
It’s a Man’s, Man’s World
quite
moving, so he told me. I’m not sure every man would.” I gazed at him
pointedly, and only had to wait a few seconds for the audience to burst into
surprised laughter followed by applause. I even heard some whoops and hollers
of support.

Tug nodded. “
Touché,
”
he said, appearing completely unfazed, and when the noise died down, he added
to the audience, “The angel has claws,” and they laughed again. “No doubt a
result of her outback upbringing. It couldn’t have been easy for a Mumbai family
settling out west.” He turned back to me, smiling what appeared to be a genuine
smile. “Tell us about your childhood, Angel. Were you ever victimized because
of your cultural background?”

This was the
question Rosie had primed me for, and I trotted out some anecdotes about
lunchbox swaps that hadn’t ended well, and Sister Carmel’s constant attempts to
turn we Hindu’s into Catholics. As I’d hoped, the audience laughed in all the
right places and gave a good round of applause for the short video grab of Noah
and I singing together.

The audio was
grainy, and I knew I’d sound much better than that live, so when the ad break
came, I was feeling so relieved I wanted to hug myself. Live television wasn’t
as hard as I’d thought. I just had to own the song and I’d be finished.

“…stay tuned,
because after the break, Angel Lata will sing for us and you can judge for
yourself whether Noah’s new diva is going to float your boat.”

Some titters of
laughter rewarded Tug for his bad pun, and he held his ‘show’ smile for several
more seconds before the filming stopped and it slid into something that should
have had warning bells attached. “I like a woman with spirit,” he said softly,
gazing deep into my eyes, as if he expected me to be mesmerized. Perhaps most
women were, but his charm was having zero effect on me.

And in that
second, I realized what it was about Tug that I didn’t like. He reminded me far
too much of Danny, spreading boyish charm and hoping it would stick somewhere.
Hoping he could ‘get lucky’. Well not with me.

I smiled a
sickly-sweet smile and said, “Shall I wait here or move to the stage?” I
pointed at the small, circle marked on the floor a few paces from the shelter
of the cocktail bar which had hidden my too-short skirt. I wanted to make it
clear that I was all about business.

His expression
morphed into what could only be described as
wolf
—all teeth and leering
as he said, “Frankly, I can’t wait to see your moves.” I swallowed sickly. “But
for now, the stage.”

I had to turn
away, pretending obedience when in fact I was hiding my shudder of revulsion as
I stepped over into the circle. Could he
be
any creepier?

I shook my head
slightly as I faced the audience and reoriented myself, giving them a big smile
and a wave. Again I had spontaneous applause, and that bolstered my confidence
as I pretended to ready myself so I could fill in the seconds until we went
live again.

I’d barely begun
that when, side of stage, I saw a man hold his arm out horizontally, a second
before he said, “Back live in ten, nine…”

And then I saw
Rosie a few steps behind him, staring right at me with a worried expression on
her face. I smiled at her, hoping she wasn’t nervous about my singing. Now that
the talking was over, I felt like I was on the home stretch. Singing in front
of a live audience, I could do, effortlessly.

But she didn’t
know that yet, so I took my attention off her and locked onto the man who said,
“…six,” then he was mouthing
“…five, four, three, two, one,
” and his arm
swung around to point at Tug.

“You’re back live
on
Sunshine
and we’ve got a special treat today. Outback diva Angel Lata,
who wowed the crowd at a recent Belandera restaurant opening by singing a duet
with Noah Steele, is about to sing for us…”

I smiled at the
audience, breathing in slowly through my nose, waiting for the opening bars,
but instead Tug went on.

“…before she does,
however, we’ve got a surprise for her.”

My fixed smile
faltered.

“Here’s a snippet
of video where you’ll see Angel singing before she made the big time. It’s her
last night in a local Sydney nightclub, and you can see why!”

My smile slipped
completely and my gaze swung to Tug who had the audacity to wink at me. But as
cold prickled my cheeks, there was nothing I could do. Audio boomed across the
studio of me singing
All by myself,
and before I could do anything to
stop it, the night I’d worked so hard to forget was being rehashed, in front of
a live national audience.