Chasing Rainbows

                “So how did you find LA? Was this your first trip to Tinsel Town?”

The conversation had been so natural and since they’d ordered, and devoured their starters, which didn’t disappoint, but the niceties about the weather and family anecdotes had kind of exhausted themselves, and things could only become a little more personal. So this as a topic seemed infinitely safer than she’d imagined.

                “As an actress surely I have to love it? I’m back in six weeks and I don’t’ know if that’ll lead to anything else. I mean that would be ideal for me career wise.”

She saw his questioning eyebrow; he didn’t miss a trick, “do I like LA?” He nodded, so she sighed, “it’s all a bit pretentious, but shouldn’t I like that being an actress? I mean I wonder whether this is what I can do. You know?”

He sat back in his chair watching her, and suddenly Emma realised how much she’d given away, to someone she’d considered both a stranger and her enemy, she’d not even told Isobel of these fears.

                “I think, really, that you’ve finally got where you need to be, and that’s it a pretty scary place...not LA,” he smiled, “but being on the brink of everything you’ve ever dreamed of. I suppose now is the time when you doubt yourself and everything you want...”

                “Very philosophical!”

Jacob nodded, “maybe, but I’ve had a lot of time to think about life lately. And it’s a strange thing!”

                “Did the money help? You needed to sort something out with your father?”

It was Jacob’s turn to be stunned, “you remember?”  When she nodded he took a drink of wine, “yep, it squared things with him, I’m still the opposite of a prodigal son, but he has less over me.”

She waited to hear him elaborate, but soon realised that the conversation had dried up, it seemed he was allowed barriers...though she was just as unlikely to discuss the mechanics of her family too.

                “I do know one thing about California though,” Emma sat back, her fingers linked over her full stomach, “I am not going to fit into my bridesmaid’s dress in a few weeks if I have any more food at your portion size! I mean even breakfast swamps me! And it’s SO good that I can’t resist! I’ve had my daily calorie intake before lunch!”

Jacob smiled, “it’s funny but that’s what my old college roommate used to say, he was a Brit too. We don’t ALL eat that much do we?”

She shrugged, “when you’re on holiday here, you know doing the tourist thing than I suppose you tend to eat out a lot. When you live here it must be different!”

He nodded, “I guess. So tell me about the wedding then, is everything organised?”

Emma sat wistfully for a moment, she’d never dreamed of a big white wedding, not like Isobel had, but it was so ironic that her own marriage was a drunken decision witnessed by an Elvis impersonator. Her mother would never get to gush over whether roses or lilies decorated the church, and would never wipe at a stray tear when she first saw her, her only daughter in a dress that made her look and feel like a princess, and her poor Dad would never walk her down the aisle, never give her away.

Eventually she met Jacob’s eyes, “Isobel has been planning this moment since we were twelve, there is nothing she hasn’t thought about. The groom and his party even have matching underwear! I mean she’s no Bridezilla, but she knows what she wants! And that’s a good thing!”

Jacob could see the sadness tingeing her eyes, and yet again he felt dreadful that they’d fallen into this situation. He liked her, he liked her a lot. The last couple of hours they’d got on like friends, but now he could see how she felt cheated, how she’d not had the same opportunity as her friend.

He wondered what would have happened if they’d woken up together without the rings, without the marriage certificate. Would they have exchanged numbers? Met up again in a far less stressful way?  He’d like to think so; he’d not shared his life with anyone on a regular basis, other than the odd roommate. Women had been restricted to really brief flings, a few dates here and there. He didn’t have the trappings that most women looked for, he had no car, no ‘regular’ job, he lived in his grandmother’s house. He hardly had ‘catch of the century’ written all over him, but there was something about Emma that made him know that she wasn’t like that. That material things weren’t of interest to her. But now as he thought of the cheap gaudy rings they’d used to get married, the brief ceremony...he knew she deserved more. A lot more!

They shared a decadent dessert, ironically a rich chocolate and raspberry roulade. And it was GOOD. Jacob insisted on coffee, and whilst Emma was protesting at the fact her dress was bursting at the seams, she appreciated it once it arrived, the perfect end to her meal.

                “You tired?” he asked, sliding an arm around her shoulders and directing her out of the restaurant. He smiled as she leaned into him, but didn’t gloat; he didn’t want this to end.

                “More than I thought possible,” she let him absorb her weight, and allowed him to lead her out into the dark evening. “Never underestimate the power of a good meal!?”

Emma was putty in his hands, and Jacob was never one to let an opportunity like that escape him.  A few minutes’ walk away and he was where he wanted to be, near one of the Pier’s and with great timing there was the object of his intention there. A horse and cart to ride in, the perfect relaxation after a great meal, and more than a little romantic.

She looked up at Jacob as he approached the old fashioned cart and was rewarded with a grin, “what better way to see they city? And by the time we’ve done the tourist lap, we’ll be refreshed and ready to party on. See?”

He gestured to the cart driver, then helped her into the back.

                “Blanket here Sir; it’s windy along the coast!” The driver handed them a thick fleece as they both settled into the quite small seat.

Emma felt a little awkward squeezed up next to him, and when Jacob spread his arm along the back of the seat she eyed him warily. His response was a lazy grin, “relax! Enjoy the ride.”

Easier said than done when he was so strong and so firm next to her, and she was so tired it was harder to fight leaning into him than actually doing it. So by the fourth corner on their route, she was curled into his side, her head on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around her tightly. Jacob’s voice was soft but animated as he pointed out the various sights as the horse trundled along at a leisurely pace. Emma loved the enthusiasm and pride in his voice, and despite her relaxed state, she couldn’t help but be absorbed by the city they passed through.

                “I’d love to have time to take you over the bridge to Sausalito, and across the Bay, there are some really nice suburbs around here that can take your breath away.”

You’re taking my breath away, she almost blurted, and it was true. They were cuddled together so intimately, and Emma couldn’t remember ever feeling like this, relaxed yet on fire. His voice was as hypnotic as his strong heartbeat under her ear, and it almost seemed as they were in a bubble, just the two of them with nothing else mattering.

                “Hey wake up sleepy!” a pair of lips resting on her forehead woke Emma from a place of warmth and comfort. Opening her eyes she felt tired, but extremely relaxed. Finally her eyes focussed on Jacob, smiling down at her. “We’re supposed to be going dancing. You up for that?”

She nodded with a smile, “I think I needed that catnap! SO rude though!”

He laughed, helping her to her feet, “not rude, never rude, I just never thought you’d relax enough in my presence to actually fall asleep!”

Tilting her head to one side, she looked at him studiously for a moment, “really? You’re not that bad.” It was a concession of huge proportions, and Jacob was beaming like a Cheshire cat when he helped her down from the cart, and there was a spring in his step as he led her along yet another street of a city she was becoming enamoured with.

The Ferry building seemed to be THE place to be seen. It was a huge building that housed lots of businesses and nice restaurants and bars. Jacob was well known there, or so it seemed, he was greeted by several proprietors as they cased the passing trade from various doorways.

                “This is my favourite place!” He announced as he opened a door to a bar that lacked either the trendiness or gaudiness of the other bars they’d passed. But as they stepped into the room Emma immediately felt at home. The barman, a man in his fifties, dashed around to the salon to pull Jacob into a fierce bear hug.

                “Hey Boy! Been too long! Hear you did well in Vegas!”

Jacob nodded, “better than ok, got the old man off my back...and...” he gestured to Emma, “a wife into the bargain!”

“Wife?” The man who he introduced as Walter could not have looked any more shocked if she’d pulled off her head and started to play football with it. He looked between the two of them then shook his head, “sorry but I can’t believe someone this lovely would see past your prickles and thorns!”

Emma extended her hand to take the one offered by Walter and smiled, “I’m so glad that it’s not just me that sees his cantankerous side!”

The older man laughed, “oh no, but maybe you’re equally one of the only ones to see past his grumpy side!”

Emma bit the retort that settled on her lips, whatever happened Jacob this was his home town, his haunts, she couldn’t embarrass him, say things that would make a return here awkward once they separated and went their own ways, it would already be hard enough for him to explain what had gone wrong now that he’d introduced her as his wife. So she smile genially and in a conspiratorial manner at Walter, then gave him a huge wink.

                “This calls for champagne!” Emma groaned as Walter pulled a bottle from the fridge below the counter and cracked it open. She loved champagne, but she’d had a few glasses of wine with dinner, the last thing she needed was to get drunk, after all that was what had led to them being in this mess in the first place.  But it was rude to refuse a drink in your own honour, so she accepted a glass and chinked it with Jacob and Walter before sipping at it.

                “You trying to guilt me in to submission?” she asked in a whisper.

Jacob smiled, “not at all. I promised you twenty four hours of my life. This is an important part of that; Walt is more like a father than my own. That’s all!” His smile was genuine, and she felt awful at the rapid change in mood the comment had caused.

Within fifteen minutes the bar was significantly fuller and the quiet celebration was becoming a raucous affair. At least a dozen people, mainly men, had clapped Jacob on the back and shaken her hand in a far calmer manner, and there was a growing line of celebratory drinks in front of them.

                “You can pass a few back to Walt, he’ll dispose of them!”

Jacob’s whisper was a welcome excuse, she smiled, “there was me thinking you were trying to get me drunk!”

Jacob laughed with irony, “cos that turned out SO well last time!”

Again she’d caused him to turn away from her in a defeatist moment. Emma was beginning to hate herself, she was putting a real dampener on the night, and she’d promised Jacob that she’d experience twenty four hour with him, this was her own doing, she shouldn’t snipe and back bite, it was all wrong.

With a sigh that was part resignation and part self loathing, she slipped her hand forward to entwine with his. Jacob was talking to a man, deep in a conversation about computers, from what she could make out. And whilst he didn’t stop talking, he glanced at her and gave a welcoming smile.

As they sat on adjacent barstools, striking up conversations, drinking their drinks, their hands stayed interlinked. And Emma tried to ignore how disconcerting she found that.

It was late; Jacob could feel the time slipping away from him. He watched Emma chatting to Walt, leaning over the bar in animated conversation. He couldn’t let this fail, and he’d hoped that after dinner, after being so relaxed and open with her that they’d be closer, that they’d have more chance for the future. But despite her slotting in to the casualness of Walt’s bar, the reality that she could be comfortable in his world, there’d been no let up in her anger towards him. He didn’t want to give up, but part of him was now thinking that maybe he wanted this to work because he’d never managed to hold down a long term relationship, that up until now he was the king of failure, as his parents didn’t hesitate to remind him.