He Will Be Mine: The brand new laugh out loud page turner!

by Kirsty Greenwood

  Through the speakers, I hear the whooping and applause of the crowd and the whir of a million camera clicks. And there, in a storage cupboard, a million miles from my home and everything I know, my heart cracks.

  ‘I thought that maybe if he just saw me…’ I mumble, tears springing to my eyes.

  John Alan looks me up and down and sighs, his eyes full of pity. ‘Mr Montgomery saw you at the movie lot. He said, and I quote, “Keep that weirdo Plain Jane stalker away from me.” Look, miss. You’ve just gotta face facts. It’s never gonna happen… I’ve met my fair share of stalkers and it never works out well.’

  Bile rushes into my mouth, my face draining of all blood.

  Gary’s right. I’m nothing more than a stalker. An unhinged weirdo Plain Jane Stalker.

  Oh my god. What have I done?

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Nora

  There is one reason I am not sitting in a jail cell right now: Gary Montgomery apparently decided he didn’t want to press charges against me for my ‘attempted attack’. Kennedy and I then had to convince John Alan that I would never even google Gary Montgomery’s name again and he only relaxed once I logged into my email to show him that I had a return flight to the UK already booked. We then had to wait around in the janitor’s closet until the end of the ceremony so that ‘Gary could leave safely’.

  I asked for my glasses back, but no one could find them in the hardening cement or around the theatre in general.

  Kennedy, with a look of pity that I couldn’t bear, asked me to come back home, but I just wanted to be alone. So I’ve come to the beach where they sell the ice cream that always makes me feel better. I’m sitting on a faded wooden bench, eating a special rocky road sundae and staring out at the windy, foaming sea. Everything is a little blurry because I don’t have my glasses, and rather than making me feel happy and giddy like it usually does, the sundae is just enhancing the bone tiredness that has blanketed my entire body.

  I realise that I’m crying, the tears drying almost instantly as the warm wind blows on my face. I need my sister. I pull out my phone and press her number with trembling hands.

  She answers after three rings, her voice sleepy and confused. Shit. It’s 2 a.m. there. I forgot. Am I the worst? I think I might be the worst.

  ‘Hey, Im,’ I say, trying to disguise the shaky-breathed crying. ‘I butt-dialled you by accident. Go back to sleep and I’ll ring tomorrow.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Imogene asks, clearing her throat. ‘I was awake anyway,’ she lies. ‘I can chat!’ Then I hear a fumble on the phone and Imogene hissing at Dan to fuck off, which makes my hand fly to my mouth in surprise. I’ve never heard Imogene mad at Dan before. ‘I’ve come downstairs,’ Imogene says eventually. ‘Talk to me.’

  I open my mouth to say something, anything, but all that comes out is a howl of bawling.

  ‘So-ho-horry,’ I manage to get out through the sobs. ‘Give me a se-heh-heh-cond…’

  And then I bawl again. It’s coming right from my core and I can’t seem to stop it. Not ideal that this is happening on a public beach, albeit a currently quiet one.

  ‘Go for it,’ Imogene says softly. ‘Sounds like it really needs to come out…’

  I nod, even though she can’t see me.

  She stays on the phone while I clutch my stomach and cry until there are no tears left.

  ‘Right,’ she says firmly when the wails have settled down into pathetic little whimpers. ‘Tell me what happened?’ The calmness in her voice gives me cause to suspect that Imogene’s been expecting this call. That this, right now, is the dose of reality she said I needed. The reason she told me to come here and do this.

  I take a deep breath and tell Imogene about my day, about falling in the cement, about John Alan almost arresting me and saying that Gary called me a weirdo Plain Jane stalker, I find myself telling her about Brandon saying I was odd and ordinary, how people like me don’t get to be happy. I tell her about Mum and Dad, although of course she already knows, and I tell her how forceful I was about them coming to my showcase gig. Dad had said he was feeling under the weather and I stropped, told him he had to come because I needed to show them that I could make a career in music. I wanted attention.

  ‘It was my fault,’ I say shakily. ‘It genuinely was my fault, Imogene. I’m so sorry. I mess things up. It’s what I do and I just can’t seem to help it. What’s wrong with me? I thought if I could find my soulmate, if I could have what Mum and Dad held so dear, that I… I don’t know… I’d feel closer to them somehow? That I finally did something that they believed in. Shit, I don’t even know what I’m talking about. It’s all muddled. There’s so much in my head. Gary is engaged now. He is deeply and blissfully in love with Tori Gould. How could I have been so stupid?’

  Imogene pauses for a moment. ‘It. Wasn’t. Your. Fault,’ she says very slowly. ‘Shit, Nora. You could say it was Mum and Dad’s fault for giving birth to you. Or it was the record company’s fault for giving you a showcase gig. Or it was my fault for telling Dad, six years ago, that I thought he should definitely buy a blue BMW, or it was the bloody tyre designer’s fault for making one single faulty tyre that just happened to be on Mum and Dad’s car. You can’t look at it as being anyone’s fault.’

  I nod again and take a deep breath. ‘Why do I feel so guilty then? It’s just there in my stomach. All of the time.’

  ‘Because you were being selfish that night. It doesn’t mean you caused the accident, though. It was an accident.’

  ‘That’s the last impression they had of me. Selfish, attention-needing Nora.’

  ‘Are you kidding me? They were so proud of you. Yes, they were worried that making a career in music would be hard on you, but they were excited about it. They loved you, they loved us both so, so much. You know I heard Mum singing one of your songs about a week before…’

  ‘Really?’ I gasp, sitting up straighter. ‘Which one?’

  ‘Something about a whisper of moonlight on a lake?’

  ‘Eek, that was a terrible song.’

  ‘I agree, and Mum couldn’t sing for shit. But she loved it. Said it made her feel all lovey-dovey.’

  I smile for the first time that afternoon.

  ‘She always felt lovey-dovey.’

  Imogene laughs. ‘She really did. Her and Dad, it actually got a bit annoying sometimes. They were so… perfect.’

  ‘They were, right?’ I laugh. ‘A bit smug, really.’

  Imogene chuckles and we sink into our memories for a moment.

  ‘I’m sorry it didn’t work out with Gary,’ Imogene says at last.

  My skin crawls with humiliation. I never even got the chance to meet him. Of course I didn’t. I was never going to. Imogene knew that.

  ‘Have I messed you up even more?’ she says in a small voice. ‘I was trying to be cruel to be kind. It seemed like a desperate situation.’

  ‘No.’ I run my hands through my now bedraggled and cement-spattered curls. ‘I think you were right. I’ve been depressed. I didn’t want to admit it, but… I feel sad about Mum and Dad all of the time. You were right about the whole counselling thing. I mean, I genuinely, genuinely thought he was my soulmate. I really really did. I felt it. And to him I’m just some crazy plain girl who tried to ruin a big moment in his career. Which is, you know, essentially true.’ I squeeze my eyes shut so that I don’t start howling again. ‘I clearly need some help.’

  ‘Firstly, you are not plain. You are beautiful inside and out. Except when you’re on your period and you get a spotty chin. Secondly, I’m proud of you for being brave enough to go out there. To go do something so bonkers for love. Even if it’s not really love and just a symptom of wayward mental health. Thirdly, I’m going to book you a flight for tomorrow. It’s time to come home now.’

  ‘It’s only a week until my scheduled flight…’ I say. ‘I can wait, I don’t want you to spend any more money. Dan will go mad.’

  ‘Oh, who cares? I work hard. I have savings.
I can spend my money how I like, right? I’m booking you in for therapy. Come back tomorrow. It’s time to sort you out.’

  I sigh. She’s right. It’s time to get help.

  It’s time to leave LA.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Gary

  Hey,

  I don’t think I’ve been this angry in my life. It’s unbearable. My chest feels tight and full, my skin is prickly and my muscles are knotted up. I mean it was already a weird day to begin with and then it just all got fucking bizarre.

  Christ! I’m not making sense. Breathe, Gary. Breeeeeeathe.

  Okay. So… I’m engaged.

  Did I pop the question? No.

  Did I know anything about it? No.

  Was I completely fucking blindsided. Yes!

  It was the handprint ceremony today, which was frankly a bit of a strange thing to be happening considering my relatively short career. I was giving my speech, there was a crowd, everyone was happy and then my—and just to reiterate that I cannot believe I am writing this—my stalker tried to attack me.

  At least according to John Alan. Seth and Olive thought this woman got jostled by some altercation in the crowd, but John Alan confirmed it was the same woman who came to the set with the butter knife. I didn’t even notice what was going on until someone was face down in the cement. And it was weird – just like the time at the movie lot, the shape of her was super familiar. She must have been following me for a while and I’ve spotted her out of the corner of my eye. It’s the only way I can explain the feeling of recognition.

  Anyway, John Alan carried the woman away and the ceremony continued. And then, and this is the bit that I am feeling extremely angry about, Aileen announced to the crowd, and the fucking press, that Tori and I were getting married. What. The. Fuck? We hadn’t even discussed it and I certainly don’t remember proposing. I could hardly deny it on the stage because there were a million damn journalists and photographers there, but Jesus Christ.

  As soon as we got back to my place, I asked Aileen and Tori what the hell was going on. Aileen said that the stalker trying to attack me and Tori shouting that she was fat (which I didn’t hear) was incredibly problematic optically and that she immediately needed to change the story into something big and positive. So she made an executive decision to announce an engagement. For my career. For Tori’s career.

  Fucking hell.

  I asked a very quiet Tori what she had to say about her mother doing shit like this and she started crying and apologizing over and over. Which made me feel like an asshole for getting mad, especially after everything she’s done for me. After we slept together for the first time, she made me promise that I’d never make her cry. Well, today I almost broke that promise. Tori said we were going to get engaged soon anyway, and she’s right. I have been thinking about proposing. But now it’s all been tainted. Made into some business decision. I’m not naïve. I know that Aileen’s only trying to look out for us. But still. I’m so fucking angry!

  Before we came home, I asked John Alan if I could meet this woman. Show her that I was just a normal schmuck when it came down to it and that I really wasn’t worth following around. But he said that would only encourage her and that to meet her face to face would just be a cruelty. It was so strange though. I was curious to see her face. You know, not covered in cement. Tori said she was fat. I mean, she didn’t look like most of the woman in Los Angeles, but something about her looked pretty fucking sexy to me… Argh. What is going on with me? I’m engaged to someone I didn’t propose to and now I’m wondering if I am sexually attracted to some random woman whose face I have never seen and who wants to maybe kill me with a blunt knife. I’m going mad.

  I found what I think were the stalker’s glasses on the sidewalk after everyone had gone home. They’re in my bag right now. I’m not quite sure why I picked them up. I should probably give them to John Alan – glasses are expensive and I think he took down her address. I’ll do it tomorrow. Fuck. What a horrible, irrational, damn stupid day.

  I can’t write three amazing things today. I’m feeling that shitty overwhelmed feeling again and I can’t stand it. Plus I’m missing my mom these last few days, which feels ridiculous because I never even met her. But not having her here, never having had her here, feels like I’ve just got this stomach ache that’s always there. That’s always going to be there, no matter how happy or successful I am. There’s just always going to be this mild, gnawing pain that pops up every now and then without invitation.

  Fuck. I should probably call Ira for an in-person appointment…

  Seth’s knocking on my door. Gotta go.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Nora

  I’m sitting on Kennedy and Brandon’s porch, snuggling Winklepuff and looking out at this view that I’ve become so happily accustomed to. Winklepuff gazes up at me, peeved at the fact that my tears are falling onto his head. I bury my face in his fur and apologise. At least I’ve done one thing right since I’ve been here and it’s successfully take care of this guy. Yes, it was through nefarious means and the fact that I’m feeding him secret ham in order to get him to respect me is not ideal. And he did make love to another dog under my care, but apart from that I’ve done a pretty good job, considering I lied to Kennedy about my experience in dog caretaking. The warm weight of him is incredibly soothing. He pushes his head into my neck as if he’s trying to comfort me.

  ‘You’re a good boy,’ I sniffle. ‘I’m really going to miss you. Even with your halitosis issues.’

  Winklepuff responds with another death breath yawn and snuggles further into me, giving a happy, content snort.

  I try to memorise the floury softness of the rippled sand on the beach, the swell of the shimmering indigo ocean, and the warm bloom in my chest that happens whenever I’m floating about in there early morning. I wish I could take that feeling back home with me. The soft hazy pastel colours here are making the prospect of grey, smoky-skied Brigglesford, Sheffield, a little less appealing than perhaps it should be, considering I’ve lived there my whole life. But like Imogene said, it’s time to go home, to figure out why on earth I thought that a man I saw on the screen at the pictures might be my one and only true love.

  I think, again, of what Aileen said at the ceremony. How she’d never seen two people as deeply and happily in love as Gary and Tori. I had just assumed that they weren’t meant to be. Convinced myself they were ‘just dating’ so I didn’t have to feel like a monster about my intentions. But deliriously joyful over each other? That sounds like how Mum and Dad were. And imagine if some grieving randomer had come along and tried to ruin that? I can’t be that person. If I love him as much as I, rightly or wrongly, believe I do, then I want him to be deeply and happily in love. I want him to be deliriously joyful. Even if it’s not with me.

  I take a deep breath and as Winklepuff scrambles off my lap, now fucked off with the shower of tears I am continuing to rain over him, something happens to me. A melody pops into my head. It’s out-of-focus, tentative, but it’s there.

  With shaking hands, I slowly take my phone out of my pocket, open the notes app and start to type out phrases that fit the shape of the melody playing in my head. I softly start to hum, my voice croaky, my throat dry from the crying. When I look up again, thirty minutes have passed and I think I’ve just written my first song in two years.

  I run my thumb over the phone screen, over the words I just wrote, and a little spark of something positive ignites in my chest.

  ‘Thought you could do with this.’ Kennedy comes out onto the porch and hands me a mug that says, ‘I’m Rootin Tootin Gluten Free!’ on the front of it in a navy blue cursive script.

  I smile gratefully and take the mug, giving it a sniff. It smells rank.

  ‘It’s fennel and cumin tea. It will lift your spirits, I think.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I say, warming my hands with the mug even though it’s already boiling hot outside.

  ‘Taste it,’ Kennedy urges, si
tting beside me and staring at me.

  I reluctantly taste it. It is rank.

  ‘It has chamomile in too, so it will soothe you.’

  I smile at her, touched by her thoughtfulness.

  The pair of us just sit there staring at the ocean for a while, the Santa Ana winds occasionally smacking into our faces and lifting our hair up from our heads.

  ‘Don’t leave tomorrow,’ Kennedy says eventually, breaking the silence.

  ‘I have to,’ I say. ‘Imogene’s booking me a flight. There’s not really anything else to stay for…’

  ‘You’re feeling terrible right now, but you have another week here. Surely better to spend that time swimming and sunbathing and doing nice things with Brandon and I rather than going home alone. You can put it off, right?’

  ‘I’m too humiliated to stay. Imogene says I need to get back ASAP and start working on getting over my grief, fixing all of my issues.’

  Kennedy nods. ‘She sounds really smart. But… a few days won’t make any difference. And, in a really selfish way, I don’t want you to go!’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really. You’re not an intellectual snob like everyone I usually hang out with and everyone at work and it honestly feels like a relief. I feel more like myself around you. I’d love you to stay just a little bit longer…’

  I squint at her. ‘Haven’t I majorly embarrassed you? Don’t you think I’m crazy?’

  ‘No,’ Kennedy says firmly. ‘You just have a crush. Infatuations can make us do dumb things. Trust me, I know…’

  I’m about to respond with my line about how this is more than a crush, but she’s right. That is obviously all it is. How embarrassing.