Sharp Turn - Marianne Delacourt [60]
But it still felt bad watching Jenny sliding her hands all over Ed’s butt, because the truth was I really liked him.
‘You doing alright, T?’
Bok squatted by my towel and dropped a kiss on my head. His beautiful Eurasian face was creased with concern. I wanted to tug his silky dark locks – the envy of every woman who saw them – from their Dior clasp and set them free for the breeze to tangle.
‘It’s just photos, you know,’ he added.
I felt like a kid whose mummy had just told her that the Cybermen on Doctor Who weren’t real, they were just people running around in silver suits. For that I gave him my best scowl.
‘You’ll get wrinkles,’ he warned.
If we hadn’t been at work – Bok’s work – I would have wrestled him into the sand. We’d had some epic engagements in our time. He was stronger in theory, but I weighed more and was generally fitter. Bok could eat gargantuan amounts of food but didn’t seem to store a single calorie. I, on the other hand, had to run and work out like a demon for every mouthful of vanilla slice.
‘Oh my God.’
Jenny’s next pose totally distracted me from Bok. She’d laid her body full length along Ed’s and was performing a push-up over the top of him that could have doubled as a Kama Sutra position. The photographer sprayed her with oil and murmured encouragement about how sexy she looked. Skin glistening and muscles taut, she tilted her head sideways to give me a wink and a long slow lick of her lips.
Bok saw it and placed a warning hand on my arm.
Then I caught sight of something monstrous galloping towards me, dragging a slight figure behind it.
Bok saw it too. ‘Jenny,’ he shouted. ‘Duck!’
But Jenny was so caught up in what she was doing that she didn’t register. The first thing she knew of impending disaster was when Fridge’s giant back paws clipped her body as he jumped over her and sent her spinning like an ice skater in a sideways twirl.
Jenny’s flip was worthy of a standing ovation, but I had other things to contend with, like the approach of a lumbering mammoth.
I dropped to one knee and bellowed, ‘Sit, Fridge!’
Fridge dropped onto his haunches and slid to a stop a foot away, leaving a wide furrow behind him.
I stood up, patted his saliva-streaked nose, and saw that Smitty had stopped to help Jenny up out of the sand. Ms Oil-drenched, Ego-maniac Ironwoman had turned into a sandy sea monster dotted with seaweed and bits of broken shell.
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Smitty. ‘Goodness, look at you. I’m SO sorry!’
Ed was on his feet, trying not to laugh, while the photographer made distressed birthing noises.
Jenny shrugged off Smitty and stormed towards me.
‘You set this up!’ she shouted, her fists balled.
I tensed my muscles. She wasn’t above trying to clout me in public – she’d already broken my nose once.
‘Jenny,’ said Bok calmly, ‘it was an accident. Let’s get you washed off. We were pretty much finished anyway.’
She turned her fury on him. ‘I should have known better than to work with a friend of HERS. My agent will be speaking to you!’
‘Actually, I think you look good like that,’ I said innocently.
She took a step towards me and thrust her fist at my face.
Fridge bared his teeth at her and barked – well, more of a deafening ‘rowl’ really.
‘Fridge!’ cried Smitty.
But Fridge had decided I was in danger and his haunches were set as if ready to spring.
Jenny took a step backwards. And then another. She kept going until she’d grabbed her bag, then sprinted up the beach towards her car.
‘I’m sorry, Bok,’ I said.
He stared after Jenny without speaking. I felt terrible. Bok’s magazine was everything to him.
Finally he looked at me, his face grave. ‘There’s nothing she can do. The contract is signed. The photos are done. She’ll