She hurtled towards Alejandro and squeezed him in a tight hug. Joe returned to the book of Cirque de Vegas’ wild costumes.
“He’s a married man, but I’m trying ever so hard not to hold it against him.” Alejandro kissed Melanie’s cheek. “This is Sergeant Joe, who is looking after me because Leviticus Fuckface the Troll called me a cunt on the internet this morning. Can you believe that? So I have Joe, and I’m driving him mad, but he has a gorgeous jacket.”
“He called you a cunt?” Melanie’s mouth fell open comically wide. “I’m so kicking him in the balls.” She grinned at Joe. “Why are you married, Sergeant Joe? God’s sake!”
“Sorry, Lady Melanie.”
“Mel, please,” she said. “Unless you’re a reporter from Country Life.”
“Sergeant Joe is married,” Alejandro pouted, “because all the men with lovely shoulders and just the right number of buttons unfastened are always married. They give you a glimpse of chest, a flash of a well-sculpted collarbone and go home to their wives. It’s how life is for boys like me.”
“Just ignore me, Mel. Okay? I’m here to keep Alejandro safe, and by extension anyone close to him. So that’s you as well.” Joe nodded and wandered over to the door. There was a reinforced frosted glass panel fixed into it. Not too bad. Would probably keep Alejandro and his endless teasing safe.
Mel nudged Alejandro. “How exciting, Alejo! Your very own hunky bodyguard! And mine too!”
“Fuckface dared to have a go at my hunky sergeant this morning too, so I’m going to be kind to him all day to make up for it. Don’t tell him I told you, but he’s better company than the other two.” He kissed Mel’s cheek again. “Sergeant Joe, cup of tea?”
“Yes, please.” Joe wandered over to a chair and sat down with the book. He didn’t know much at all about makeup but Alejandro’s work looked amazing. Joe was willing to concede that Alejandro was talented. He was also well aware that Alejandro was a massive wind-up merchant. Pranks would doubtless ensue and Joe needed to stay alert.
‘Lovely shoulders.’ Still, it was better to be teased than outright resented, and if Alejandro’s teasing extended only as far pretending he thought Joe was hunky, he could definitely live with that.
“White, no sugar.” Alejandro looked so pleased as he said that. He put three brightly striped mugs down on the narrow strip of fridge that served as a worktop. “I do pay attention, Sergeant, I saw you make your own yesterday and I remembered no sugar!”
“I’ll make a copper of you yet.” Joe turned a page of the book and saw a group of acrobats with elaborate geometric shapes painted onto their faces. They almost didn’t look like human faces at all. “You’re very good at this makeup business, you know!”
“He is!” Mel put her arm around Alejandro’s shoulders in a matey hug. “The first time he did me, he made me look like a Picasso painting. Wonky nose, eye in the wrong place. It was genius!”
“Makeup is magic. I grew up on Papá’s movie sets, it was like a different dream every day.” Alejandro beamed like a child on Christmas morning, no artifice in his obvious delight. “I loved the actresses who arrived in jeans and flip-flops and transformed into divas. Or they arrived looking like a star just to be turned into a washwoman. Papá gave me my first makeup credit when I was four. I was beating faces before I could read!”
What a different world Alejandro had known as a child, film sets beneath Spanish skies, movie premieres and award ceremonies, the sort of Bohemian life that would probably make a film all of its own. His father’s death had shattered all that, and when his mother was first photographed on the arm of the Duke of Albany, that teenage boy’s life, from the halcyon bohemian days to the death that ended them, became tabloid fodder. No wonder Alejandro couldn’t bear the confines of boarding school. It must have been like prison for someone like him. It was all in the file, but the file was cold fact, the reality was far more human.
“Four? That’s so cute!” Mel said. “Sergeant, don’t you think Alejandro would’ve been really cute when he was four?”
“I…I suppose so. Little Alejandro wielding his makeup brush.” Joe laughed. “So are you turning Mel into a Picasso again today? I don’t know the first thing about makeup, but this is really interesting. It’s art.”
And yes, Joe was surprised. He’d never thought of makeup as art before, but his knowledge of it didn’t extend much beyond the expensive range of cosmetics that took up Wendy’s dressing table.
“You can see me when I was four if you know where to look. I was in all of Papà’s films!” He went back to his tea-making. “I made my debut in Mamá’s belly and had a little role in every film right until the last. When Papá won the Oscar, I went up on stage with him, you know that? Little tuxedo, trainers because I thought I was edgy, and Papá picked me up and gave the Oscar to me and I carried it around for a week!”
No wonder Alejandro had struggled to adapt to his new life as the stepson of a duke. “What a glamorous life you lived! Weren’t you the little boy in A Dove in Winter, playing marbles on the balcony?”
“Yes!” He looked to Joe, beaming brighter than ever. “It was free, you know, playing in this amazing world, all this make believe? No Picasso for Mel today, sadly. Instead we’ll be making this gorgeous young woman look like somebody who was buried six months ago and dug up this morning.”
It looked sunny in Spain even in winter, Joe reminded himself. He couldn’t see much of the boy playing marbles in the man before him. But to come from that enchanted world to rainy England, shoved into a boarding school… Joe glanced around the studio. Was this Alejandro’s attempt to recreate his lost world?
“I’m going to be a zombie sort of thing.” Mel held out her arms and let out an undead wail. “Can’t wait!”
“Tea first!” Alejandro passed a mug to Mel then crossed to join Joe and pass him his drink. He put his hand on Joe’s shoulder and peered down at the book, where a seemingly naked woman had disappeared into the garish neon make-up that covered her entire body, transforming her into a poised chameleon. “The chameleon! A cliche really but it always got a cheer on the night. We won’t be bodypainting a naked Lady Mel today.”
Mel looked over and gave them both a very saucy look. “Sadly. But I wouldn’t want to embarrass Sergeant Joe!”
“It takes a lot to embarrass me.” Now if Alejandro stripped off—Joe parked that thought as soon as it rose from the depths, and took a very long slug of tea. Alejandro scrubbed Joe’s hair matily then pirouetted across the studio to rejoin Mel and pick up his own drink.
“To the mirrors, Lady Mel, let’s get you all smocked up and ready.”
Mel whooped and half-danced her way towards a chair sat in front of a mirror. It was set up not unlike a barber’s. Joe followed, finding somewhere to sit with the book and his mug of tea where he could keep an eye on the front door.
“Go on, Alejo, make me look horrific!”
“Zak’s short is really important to him,” Alejandro explained as he came to stand behind the chair. “No computers or prosthetics, just makeup, in-camera effects and his own genius. Zak’s been shortlisted in the Prix du Salem for the last three years and he’s determined to win next year. He thinks going back to basics is going to be what does it!”
Joe nearly spat out his tea, trying not to laugh. “Prix du Salem? Really? I’ve never heard of that.” He’d heard of other prizes, though, and the duchess’s Best Actress BAFTA had pride of place on her mantlepiece, next to her late husband’s Oscar. “Sorry, I’ll try better in future not to spit tea everywhere.”
“Well, it’s not very big in the prize world,” said Alejandro, who had carried that Oscar around like a teddy bear in his younger days. “But Zak’s younger brother won it a few years ago and he’s obsessed with getting his own. We’ve been together for six months and no matter which singers he works with, how massive the budgets for the videos, all he really wants is this tacky gold skull for his trophy wall!”
That didn’t sound lik
e love’s young dream.
“You’re quite a trophy for him,” Mel said. “Bet he hopes your mum will introduce him to Almodóvar or someone like that. And I bet she won’t!”
“She met Zak in LA a couple of months ago. Hated him on sight.” Alejandro dropped his voice as though his boyfriend might be there to hear. “He was high. I wanted the floor to swallow me up.”
“Not the best way to impress his future mother-in-law.” Mel caught Joe’s glance in the mirror. She was clearly not one of Zak’s greatest fans.
The mention of drugs made Joe’s hackles rise. It was another risk that Alejandro was exposed to. And there was nothing in the file about Zak’s drug use.
“Does he make a habit of that sort of thing, Alejandro?” Joe tried to sound casual but he knew all too well that his interrogative police tone could never be entirely concealed.
“He’s an artist, he— I don’t!” Alejandro turned to look at him, his eyes wide. “Oh, you’re going to find out, aren’t you? I tried it once, just a line, and I hated it. Mel, do you remember? I called you after in a state, just after you’d been over to see us in LA?”
“God, yes. I was so worried, I nearly got back on the plane!” Mel shook her head. “But you’re not going to arrest him for that, Sergeant Joe, are you?”
“No.” Joe tried not to sound too tight-lipped. “But you do have to be careful, Alejandro. Might be worth asking Zak to dial it down a bit, or just not take it at all. If I have to pat him down and I find it on him, then it’s possession and I can’t ignore it.”
“I can’t ask Zak to do anything, it’s not that sort of relationship.” He turned back to the mirror, meeting Joe’s gaze in the reflection. And the look in Alejandro’s eyes wasn’t the look of love, it was almost fearful. “I can mention it, but… He has an artistic temperament.”
Something stirred in the back of Joe’s mind, but he couldn’t quite place it. Second day back on the job. His copper’s brain was rusty. “I can have a word with him.”
“No!” Alejandro whirled round to face him. “No, you mustn’t! I said I’ll mention it. Please promise me that you won’t say anything until I’ve had a chance? I told you yesterday, it’s me who gets ranted at, not you. Promise me, Joe!”
Joe held up his hand. “All right, I won’t say anything.” Unless…could someone on coke say all those vile things in those comments? But would someone that coked up remember to cover their tracks? Unlikely. “Just remember though, I have to be aware of any threats towards you, Alejandro. I’m here to protect you.”
Mel sighed happily. “I wish I had a bodyguard. Not that anyone’s threatening me!”
“We can’t all be Whitney.” Alejandro offered Joe a little hint of a smile, then took a deep breath. “Zak’s just desperate to get this prize, he can’t stand his brother having it when he doesn’t. He went on some sort of mad spree on Halloween, I haven’t heard from him since then until this morning. He doesn’t remember any of it, thinks I’ve made it all up to laugh at him. Why would I lie about him and his investors being kicked out of a club for throwing champagne bottles at people? Why would I lie about Zak hurling his mobile into the Thames when he heard that his brother had got a directing gig at Disney? Zak’s hardly Disney material! It was a horrible Halloween. Mostly.”
Assault, affray, possession of class-A drugs.
What a charmer.
“If he carries on like that, I won’t be the only copper wanting to finger his collar.” Joe realised he was starting to sound like his dad, but he couldn’t stand people who behaved like Zak. Everyone else could manage to go on a night out without breaking the law. Well, apart from Joe. That had been public indecency. And it had been wonderful.
“Sorry you had a shitty Halloween, babe.” Mel squeezed Alejandro’s hand. “And you were so looking forward to it.”
“It ended really well, but the beginning and the middle bit wasn’t so good.” He stooped to kiss her cheek. “Now, to make you hideous—if that’s even possible!”
It had never really occurred to Joe that makeup could be magic, as Alejandro put it, but watching his charge work, he began to see that there was more than a little alchemy to it. These weren’t the neat, sleek compacts and brushes of Wendy’s dressing table, each with its place and use. Instead, Alejandro was like a wizard making enchantments. He mixed colours and created contours, turning pink, perfect skin into an ashen grey corpse shroud, hollow and sunken and nightmarish. Bit by bit, Melanie began to disappear like canvas beneath paint, but though Joe could see the artistry, there was something disappointing in the creature that was emerging. The photos of Alejandro’s work online and in the glossy book were vivid and bright, eye-popping in their colour and ingenuity but this was just like any other zombie, only an exceptionally well-drawn one. It was like hiring Picasso and asking him to draw a stickman.
Joe might be a copper, not an artist, but he knew this couldn’t really be Alejandro’s best work. There were no primary colours for a start.
Before Joe could remark on Mel’s transformation, The Flight of the Bumblebee rang from his phone. “Sorry. I’d better take this.”
Joe went off towards the door, hoping the signal might improve if he was near glass. “Wendy? Hi. You did get my message, didn’t you?”
“Should I keep him? Hashtag hot men!” Her tone was as cold as it had been on the day she had told Joe that she was going to leave him, the same day he nearly lost his life. The day his world should have changed forever and didn’t. “What happened to secrecy and a low profile? People are calling you James Bond on bloody Instagram. You have a fucking hashtag! You’re Alejandr007!”
“How did you find it?” Joe had never thought of Wendy following makeup artists on Instagram. Inspirational quotes and autumn leaves viewed through misty filters were more her thing. “I wanted whoever’s bothering my principal to see that he’s got a CPO. Hoped it might make them back off.”
“How did I find it? Everyone in the office fell over themselves to show it to me. What the hell is Patrick thinking?”
Joe bit his lip. He wandered towards a pile of sketchbooks and started to look through them, flipping through what must be Alejandro’s makeup designs. “Are you the CPO here? Did you go to police training college? Is Patrick your boss? If the answer to those three questions is no, then…then…” Joe thought of Paloma again, of her soft kiss and her warm touch. And I’ll never see her again. “Then leave me to get on with my job.”
“Do you remember when I was going to leave you and you asked me if I was having an affair?” Wendy didn’t wait for him to reply, though of course he remembered. She had hesitated just a little too long before denying it, and Joe had known then that there was someone else. “Well, I sometimes wonder if I should. I’m virtually single anyway. I didn’t have to stay with you, Joe. I earn more than enough to have a great life, you’d miss me a lot more than I’d miss you!”
“So let me get this right…” Joe’s words stopped in his throat as he stared at the sketchbook. He was fairly sure he was looking at a zombie, but it was incredible, with a huge screaming mouth that looked as if it went beyond the model’s actual mouth. It was extraordinary. Then he blinked. I’m on the phone for God’s sake. “Wendy, are you seriously saying you want to have some sort of revenge affair because I’m on Instagram? That’s…that’s bizarre. Your knees are all over Instagram, looking like a pair of sausages because you’re posing with a cup of coffee. I haven’t threatened to have an affair over that.”
“I worked bloody hard to become a partner, Joe, I’m allowed the odd bit of downtime.” He heard her sigh, that pained, practised sigh. “When we got married, I thought you were going to be at the top. More walking the corgis, less camping it up with the son of that bloody duchess! All those flowers and visits when you were in the hospital, you’d have thought she was your wife. Did you sleep with her? Is that it?”
Joe took the phone from his ear and stared at it in utter disbelief. It was displaying a photo of Wendy, h
olding up a glass of wine. She looked happy. But she would. He’d taken the photo when she was celebrating being made partner.
“How dare you accuse me of unprofessional conduct! You could lose me my job if you go round saying that.” Joe tried to edit out the rage in his voice. Shouting down the phone at his wife was hardly professional either. “No, I didn’t have an affair with the duchess. She treated me like a nephew. And yeah, so she came to visit me in the hospital, but if it wasn’t for me, she’d have been in the bloody hospital.”
“You threw yourself in front of a speeding car to save her life, Joe.” But that was his job, surely she understood what he had committed to when he joined this team. “Why would you do that for anyone unless you were sleeping with them?”
“I didn’t plan to get run over. I pushed her out of the way, because that’s my job, and I couldn’t get out of the way in time.” Joe’s scalp hurt, and he realised he was tugging at his hair. He relaxed his hand, flexing his fingers. “Surely you’ve seen the CCTV footage that ended up leaked online? Maybe you want to shout at me about that too!”
“I have to go. People are waiting for me. I don’t spend my days doing bugger all!”
“Lucky old me and my important wife.” Joe ended the call before she could reply. If she was still even there to listen. He pressed his eyes closed for a moment, trying to think clearly. When he opened his eyes again, he was looking at Alejandro’s fantastic sketch. “Sorry, Wendy’s a bit… Executive stress, you know how it is.”
“We were only listening a little bit. Un poco,” Alejandro promised. “You and Wendy, me and Zak, it must be the season for it! Come over and see my zombie, I want to know what both of you think. Be brutal if you need to, because Zak will.”
Joe pocketed his phone and picked up the sketchbook, his thumb marking the place. He hoped Alejandro wouldn’t tease him about having an affair with his dear mamá. “Actually, I was having a look through your designs…hope you don’t mind. I came across this one and I thought, well, it’s cracking!”
The Reluctant Royal Page 6