by Alam, Donna
Quit the melodramatics, she responds. No one’s cutting a bitch. At least, not yet. But let’s just say you have a lot of ‘splaining to do, Lucy.
So you’ve seen him? Rory? I can’t tell you what a weight lifted this is. I hope you’re happy. Please tell me you’re happy. OMG, are you cheating on me with a new best friend because who the flip is Lucy? This. This is me deflecting. Maybe not melodramatic, but definitely over the top.
I’m happy Mac didn’t ruin his face. He’s too pretty for words. Gotta go. Must spew again.
‘Hey.’ Brandishing her phone, Nat wanders in from the treatment room. ‘Have you seen Dylan Duffy just flew in?’
‘Here? In Auchkeld?’
‘How, on a magic carpet? Though, I suppose, technically, he could land a helicopter on the farm’s cow pasture if he came to whisk you away. Is that how you see it in your dreams? Dylan and his mighty aubergine flying in on his massive chopper to rescue—’ Her teasing diatribe stops suddenly, the final word hanging in the air. ‘Have you been crying?’
‘It’s hay fever.’
She eyes me sceptically. ‘You don’t get hay fever. Spit it out.’
‘It’s Fin,’ I say with a sigh, lifting my mournful gaze to hers. ‘She’s seen Rory.’
‘Oh, fuck.’ Her shoulders sag. ‘When? How? What did she say?’
I slide my phone across the counter. ‘My guess is she’s too busy shagging to be angry.’
‘Oh,’ she says, then, ‘Oh. The reunion went well, I take it?’ I nod in response; reading between the text-lines, my guess would be yes. ‘I’m glad,’ she adds.
‘Really?’ I raise a sceptical brow. ‘You remember why we were keeping him away?’
‘Yeah ‘cause he got someone else up the duff. Maybe.’
‘Maybe? I told you what Fin overheard him say! She didn’t need that in her life—doesn’t! Not with all the shit she’s had to cope with over the last few months.’
‘Pound, please,’ she says, holding out her palm.
‘What?’ I look down at her outstretched hand, the light dawning belatedly. ‘Sod off,’ I say, pushing it away. ‘I’ll put it in the jar later.’
‘Add another fifty pence for sod,’ she says. ‘And I mean it—I am glad because if she’s taken Rory back, then there’s good reason for it, and we’ll learn it in time. Providing she’s still speaking to us once she’s done shagging the life out of him. She’s no’ daft,’ she adds. ‘She’d send him on his way if he wasn’t playing her fair.’ When I don’t respond, she ploughs on. ‘Being left a widow and in massive debt is one thing, finding the bastard left her with this massive mind fuck—can you imagine?—but she’s come through it all. She’s stayed strong. She is strong. Stronger than I think you give her credit for. She’s no’ going to crumble at the last.’
It suddenly occurs to me that this is probably the reason Mac lashes out at Rory. He feels for Fin, maybe on behalf of his side of the species. Yes, he’s a bit of an oaf and a little rough, but he isn’t a brawler. Maybe seeing Rory just brought it all back, of how Fin had been suffering, because after Rory, things for her only got worse. While we’d been keeping him from finding out where she was these days and, in our eyes protecting her, she’d been dealt another blow. We couldn’t do anything to help when she found out that Marcus had served her something far worse than his death. And shocking though the news was, she hasn’t yet fallen apart. She says she feels ratified these days, but I think she’s still numb with shock because how do you get over someone screwing you over like that?
‘You should never need to pee ‘cause you’re always bloody crying.’
I raise my hands to my cheeks, finding my fingertips wet. ‘I don’t know how she does it. Get out of bed in the morning, I mean.’ I look up, finding Natasha with a sad smile. ‘How does she do it after everything she’s been through?’
‘You never know how brave you are until you need to be.’ She inhales a deep breath then blows it out, making her shoulders sag. ‘I’d like to see you crying with happiness for once. Maybe you should still go to London this weekend and try to sneak into his hotel.’
‘Whose hotel,’ I ask, wiping my nose with my sleeve.
‘Dickalicious Dylan! Don’t you listen to anything I say?’
My heart pounds. Just once.
He’s here. Just an hour’s flight away. I could go see him. Tell him about the baby in person. I also have my train ticket booked, and it’d be a shame to waste the fare.
As the thoughts fly through my mind, lightning quick, Nat potters around the salon floor, filling me in on the details.
She tells me he’s in London for the UK premiere of his new movie. That mobs of women are already camped outside his hotel, and that it goes without saying that the pavement outside the Leicester Square Cinema for tomorrow night’s event is the same.
Am I really considering braving those crowds or, more to the point, facing Dylan?
Could I? Or am I just not brave enough?
Chapter 29
Dylan
‘Joe, you have no idea. It’s such a mess—a fuck-fest.’ It’s late, I should be sleeping, but I need to talk to someone because I sure as shit can’t sleep.
‘Hey, man, I don’t wanna know what goes on in your hotel room. London,’ he adds, blowing out a breath of air like a whistle. ‘You lucky fuck. I always wanted to visit England—this queen wants to meet the queen. Maybe stop by for a spot of tea.’
He pitches those final few words high and faux British; the word tea elongated until it resembles something that might sound from a kettle. I set off laughing, great bellyfuls of air. The man is six-foot-three and two ninety if he’s a pound—a man’s man, in more ways than one. A man no one would describe as a queen, let alone queer. At least, not if they want to keep their front teeth.
‘That’s funny. You got a crown to go along with the accent?’
‘Not one you’d like to know about.’
‘Okay. Movin’ on!’ I cast my eyes around the room and its rich furnishings; marble and teak. Heavy brocade drapes. ‘Seems my days of motel rooms are through; it’s hotel suites all the way for this guy.’
A million miles and a million dollars away from the kind of places I could afford when I worked for Joe lugging soil, sand, and plants in his landscaping business.
‘You always were a lucky fuck.’ Joe’s good-natured grousing echoes down the line again.
‘Hey, if I’d known you had a thing for London, I’d have invited you. Pretty sure no one would’ve noticed one extra member in the entourage.’ Too many surround me already, and God knows I could’ve done with someone I trust. It wasn’t too long ago I had an agent who rarely took my calls. Now, I can’t get the fucker to leave me alone. I’m looking to sign with another agency; someone with a better rep. But for now, I have enough with Ric, a publicist, and a lawyer who’s billing me for some substantial hours. But so long as we win, I don’t give a shit.
‘Get you, Mr. Big Shot,’ my friend taunts again. My friend. He’s one of the very few who stuck around for what will probably be referred to in the coming years as my asshole year. My actions over the last few months have pissed too many people off as I drowned my sorrows in the bottle while acting every inch the arrogant movie star. Not that I’m short for company; those who want to be pap’d with the right people are always around. People in the business. People looking to get a hand up. Plenty of pussy, too, if I want it, which I haven’t lately. Not since—
Not gonna think about it.
‘Think you could make it two?’ Joe’s voice brings me back to the phone in my hand. ‘Can’t afford to leave Todd behind. The man would be dead before I got back; he can’t boil an egg.’
‘You married him. Can’t clean, can’t cook, so what does he do for you?’
‘You want me to go there?’ he asks in a tone that makes me answer immediately.
‘Hell, no!’
He does anyway. Deadpan. ‘The man cuts my hair good.’
We bot
h set off laughing. God, I miss hanging out. Him and Todd, me and Ivy. We had some laughs.
‘You do look more presentable since you met him.’
‘That’s all Todd’s doing. He’s all about the metro. But seriously, the thing you called to talk about—this legal deal—is there anything you want me to do? I could go tear up some fool’s garden with the machine? Poison his plants?’
‘Nah. I appreciate it, but legal are on it. They’ve filed a suit against distribution, whatever the fuck that will do.’ The air between us is filled with a sudden pause, and I know what’s coming next.
‘Why’d you do a fool thing like that? Filming her is one thing but keeping it after you were through?’ Joe’s tone is filled with censure, as though the girl in question is his daughter and not my wife.
‘I didn’t do it to her. I did it with her.’ With her consent and incitement. Not that anyone would believe me. Sweet, innocent Ivy. Everyone’s nice girl—a nice girl who just happened to like fucking in front of a camera, I guess.
If the lawyers can’t swing this case my way, the world just might find out how sweet Ivy really is. How hot she is. How sweet she sounds when she comes. See, I’m not sure who or how, but it seems Dynamic Entertainment has a recording of Ivy and me. Yeah, that kind of recording. And they’re talking about releasing it.
I can’t let that happen. I can’t do that to her.
‘Y’all into some freaky shit and I just don’t know what to think. But you shoulda hit delete the minute you were through. That’s just—’
‘I get it. Please. I do.’
‘And you’ve got to let her go,’ he says softly.
I thought I had. Was so sure my fucked-up plan would work—get her to LA, make her hurt, send her on her way, and then move the fuck on. Instead, I’m having trouble living with myself.
‘So this legal thing.’ His deep voice brings me out of my thoughts again. ‘Think it’ll work?’
‘I hope so.’ I let out a breath; my chin dips to my chest, my shoulders sagging along with the exhale.
‘And failing that?’
‘Her ass is painted all over the internet.’
Plain and simple. If she’s not broken after the way I treated her in LA, then she’s about to be. The thought causes the fist around my heart to tighten; the lack of control I have over this whole fucked-up situation continues to take my blood to boiling point. The fact that Joe doesn’t know there’s already a recording of us fucking out there on the internet is something I’m not going to change. Because then I’d have to tell him I’d blackmailed her into coming to LA. I’d have to admit my sick motivations to one of the few people I’d call a true friend, which would be painful enough, but then I’d also have to tell him my attempt at revenge failed.
Instead, my reality was tipped on its head. When it came down to it, I couldn’t let her fuck another man. I had to have her again, opening up wounds I’d covered with nothing more than an anger Band-Aid.
I’m beginning to think I’ll never understand. Or get over her. And then my lawyer tells me this first recording—the one I’m responsible for releasing, the one from the whole fucked-up blackmail plan—might work in our disfavour. He says it could harm our case against the porn fucks who want to make it the next pay-per-view sensation.
‘Who sold it to the porn people, anyway? One of the trolls you’ve been fucking, no doubt.’
Joe’s words sting, but I try to joke them off. ‘Trolls? Have you seen some of the tail I’ve had lately?’ Lately being a relative term. It’s been months since I got laid. Months since I partied at all, but some fuck still hacked shit off my drive.
‘Good lookin’ trolls, maybe, but trolls all the same. Hiding their real intentions and making you cross their palm with dollars in exchange for comin’ over their bridge.’
‘Not sure which fairy tales you’ve been reading,’ I say. ‘But I’ve never paid for sex. Never paid to come over any bridge.’ I laugh a little, swiping my hand over my chin.
‘Till now, maybe.’ And he has a point. ‘Lyin’, stealin’, cheatin’ no-good trolls,’ he repeats.
‘Seems whoever sold them the rights claimed to be Ivy, so they’re saying it was obtained by legal means. Legal are on to the supposed proof.’
‘No way—no fucking way!’ The inevitable pause. ‘But you asked her, right? Just to be sure?’
‘Come on, man. She wouldn’t. You know Ivy; she doesn’t like being the centre of attention anytime. The girl who wouldn’t even tell her family that she’d married me.’
‘She was going to.’
‘Yeah, so she said,’ I respond scathingly.
‘She told Todd the last time we hung out. Said she was looking at flights and had asked Ric about your schedule. Think she had it in her mind to surprise you.’
Ric, with a c and not a k, is my agent and the pain in my ass I’m looking to swap out. He never mentioned this. And he would have—as a bad idea. The man looks at me like I’m the goose that laid his golden egg. I don’t like it, and I don’t like him. In fact, I like him less and less with each passing week, but I’m told that’s the sign of a good agent. The less likable I find him, the better for business he is. Still, I’m in the market for someone who wouldn’t sell their auld granny and look happy while doing it.
‘Could she have money problems?’ Joe asks tentatively. ‘It can make folks do desperate stuff.’
‘She’d sell a kidney first.’ Sell a kidney before she even admitted she knew me.
He begins to laugh, attempting to mimic her accent. ‘Aye, I’m sure that wee girl surely would!’
‘Stick to landscaping and leave the accents to me.’
‘Like you’re even good at that sort of shit. So this new girl . . . we get to meet her or are we too real for her type.’
‘She’s—’ I was going to say she’s not that bad, that the stuff in the papers about her new age spiritual stuff is overblown, but it’s not.
‘She seems awfully young.’
‘It’s not like that,’ I answer honestly.
‘The magazines at the grocery store would disagree.’
I sigh, unintentionally. ‘You reading that shit now?’
‘Only while I’m waiting in line. They put your ugly mug on the front, and I want to know why. So I read, but I don’t buy. Between this girl and the singer, who’s way too young for you, and the half dozen between, I can’t keep up.’
‘I can’t ask a woman the time of day without there being something more between us as far as the media are concerned. You know that.’
‘I do know. I also know a love like you had with Ivy is hard to get over, no matter what went on. Your business; you don’t have to tell me, and I understand. But it’s business that needs to be put to bed before you go inviting someone else in.’
‘The truth of it is Georgia’s a friend. That’s all.’
Not even that, really. But it’s too hard to explain. She’s someone who I can rely on for events; someone who wants to be seen with me but isn’t interested in seeing me. She knows I’m not interested in her like that, and truthfully, I think she likes the idea of my rep better than I do. And as for Talia, he’s right; she is too young, and it was purely work. Her people wanted the quintessential bad boy for her new music video, and I just happened to fit the bill. I’m doing well financially, but not so well that I can afford to turn down jobs yet. My working-class mentality is a good thing, according to Ric. He encourages, what he calls, my squirrelling away for those hard, rainy days. Not that he’ll be in that position much longer.
‘When’s this court case, anyway?’
‘Real soon.’ The sooner, the better. Maybe I’ll sleep better then.
‘Well, in the meantime, gimme an address. I’ll go deliver a shit tonne of manure to the porn fucker’s driveway.’
‘A literal shit tonne?’
‘I mean it, my friend. That girl might have left your ass, but she didn’t ask for any of this.’
Joe may not kno
w the full story; he knows enough about our beginning and middle, but nothing about what went down between us at the end, but he’s right about this. ‘I’m doing everything I can.’
‘Including telling Ivy?’
‘Scotland’s not in the next suburb,’ I scoff. ‘I have back-to-back commitments. Press junket tomorrow.’ I pull the phone from my ear and look at the clock. 3 a.m. ‘Fuck, actually today. I have a chat show to record in the afternoon then one live tonight. More press Saturday morning then the premiere and after party later. And after that few hours of sleep, if I’m lucky, an early Sunday morning flight back.’
‘See that thing you’re holding to your ear? It’s called a cell phone,’ he replies not unkindly. ‘I can’t believe the mighty Dylan Duffy, the man whose ego is as big as his billboards, can’t make it a few miles up the road. What’s the use of being a big shot movie star if you can’t do what you want from time to time?’
If only he knew how owned my ass is. This business is a whirlwind, and I’m inside it, not steering. Besides, the case is heading to court next week, and that’s why I’d called him. I should be sleeping, but I can’t. A few words with my friend is a better decision than the bottle of whisky sitting by my elbow.
‘No time to call her. No time to visit? Maybe you should come back and work for me.’
‘I do miss working outdoors,’ I reply, playing along, even if it isn’t strictly true. I do miss working outdoors in the cooler months and the freedom I had, but I sure as shit don’t miss the pay cheque or summer swamp ass. Please, God, let me never have to tell her how close she came to winning a porn Oscar. ‘Think you can match my pay or get me laid as much?’
‘You’ve never had problems with that. Women dropped their underwear in the street every time you stripped to your shorts. Hell—I could make a sideline in hiring out panty bunting from the stuff left in your wake.’