Her American Classic (Part 2)

by G J Morgan

  Tom, I know you loved Lilly.

  You loved her more than you ever loved Cassie. Don’t beat yourself up about that, you can’t help what you feel. Cassie was loved and I’m sure she knew that even at the very end. I think we both know you should have gone after Lilly, you didn’t do enough. You gave up too soon. Deep down you know that too, I can see it in your eyes, that part of you that wants to get on that plane, find her, fetch her back, but you won’t because you use Molly as an excuse, you even use my cancer as an excuse and that isn’t fair on either of us. If Lilly is the woman you loved and still love then you do what needs to be done and do it quick. Time to grab onto it with both hands. Or let go completely. Right now, you are doing neither.

  I just want you happy, Tom. That’s all. That’s all a mother ever wants for her son.

  If it takes me dying to let you go off and do all the things you need to do, then I can deal with that. What worries me more is if I survive, then you’ll always have me as an excuse.

  I love you, Tom. I’ve never told you enough times.

  I don’t know if any of this has helped you at all, or helped me.

  I think it has, at least for me. I’m not writing this again that’s for sure, can’t waste all my day planning death, I’ve got Thailand to pack for, too much life still to cram in yet.

  Love you both

  Mum xxxxxxxxxxxx

  * * *

  Next day, I woke up just after ten, quick shower before heading downstairs.

  “You want coffee?” Mum said, already pouring me a cup.

  “Yes please,” I said, giving her a hug she didn’t expect.

  “What’s that in aid of?”

  “Just because.” I helped myself to cold toast. “Hello, Miss Molly. You have a nice sleep?” ruffling her hair. She nodded, mouth full of fry-up.

  “Tom. You had a phone call this morning.”

  “Who from?”

  “Vince of all people.”

  “How did he sound?”

  “Impatient. He was a bit rude to be honest. Said you were ignoring his calls.”

  “He’s left me some voicemails.”

  “And what did he say in these voicemails?”

  “Nothing. Don’t worry.”

  “With Vince, I always worry. What did he say?”

  “Says he knows about me and Lilly.”

  “What do you mean he knows? Knows about what?”

  “Proof we were more than just actress and paparazzi.”

  “And have you seen any of this proof?”

  “Yes, he sent me a picture just so I knew he wasn’t bluffing.”

  “What is the photo of? It’s nothing rude, is it?”

  “It looks far more incriminating than it was. I’ve seen it before. I thought it had been buried.”

  “And what is it that Vince wants?”

  “An explanation first, I expect. Wants me to grovel probably, after that I don’t know.”

  “Have you rung him back? I guess not.”

  “I was gonna sleep on it.”

  “And how long have you slept on this?”

  “About two weeks.”

  “No wonder he sounded rude. Do you think this is wise?”

  “Probably not no.”

  “And now you’ve had half a month to sleep on it, what is your next move? You are ringing him, I take it?”

  “I deleted his number actually.”

  “Tom. Why?”

  “Vince will do what Vince wants, Mum. Me ringing him won’t change that.”

  “He might just genuinely want an explanation. He could be trying to help.”

  “Now he wants me to kneel. He wants me to beg for forgiveness. It’s just one of his power trips. If anything, it will boil down to the money he’s lost and the money he might be able to make back.”

  “And what if he rings again?”

  “Then I’ll hang up. And you’ll do the same.”

  “What does this all mean, Tom? It sounds like he’s making a threat.”

  “I don’t know, Mum. It could mean a lot of things.”

  “Do you think Lilly knows?”

  “How would I know, Mum? I don’t know where she lives. I don’t have her number.”

  “I think you should take Vince’s number,” she said, taking it from her pocket. “You could be making things worse.”

  “Whether or not it will be worse will be down to Vince.”

  “You’re sure this is the right move? You seem to be playing a dangerous game.”

  “I’m not playing any games. If Vince chooses to bring LA here that is down to him.”

  “What about Emma? Are you going to tell her about this?”

  “No. Not unless I have to.”

  “Does she know about Lilly?”

  “Of course she doesn’t.”

  “Here. Take Vince’s number. Keep it just in case.”

  “There won’t be a ‘just in case,’ Mum. Let’s eat breakfast, go for a walk after. Forget about Vince,” I said.

  “I’ll keep hold of his number. Better to have it and not need it.”

  “No, Mum,” taking it out of her hand. “We won’t need it,” throwing it into coal and embers, numbers becoming ash and smoke, knowing that all my silence would change was his tactics.

  59

  If I got asked one more time what it had been like working with Max again I was gonna fucking scream. I had to ask for a break in the end, took myself out on the balcony to calm myself, get back on point. Rogan was late too, supposed to be here hours ago, held up in traffic I heard, meant it was down to me to hold the fort. I saw Jon briefly when we arrived at the hotel before we were pulled in opposite directions and different rooms. He looked stressed and agitated, well we all did, we knew it was gonna be a long day, repetitive, invasive, worst thing was we had to grin and laugh, which occasionally was genuine, but for the most part it wasn’t.

  I did try though, I’m never rude, the least I could do was to make it remotely pleasurable. I’d heard of some actors and actresses who’d go out of their way to make it clear they didn’t want to be there. I’d like to think I was a little less bitch than that, I mean we all had professions, mine was to answer and theirs was to ask. And I tried my hardest to answer, sometimes a little too hard, gave away too much to be honest. I knew my mouth had gotten me in trouble before so was pretty sure my mouth would do it again. Hopefully not today.

  Max was the worst, he’d made journalists cry many a time, walked out on even more. Personally, I always thought he did it for effect, to make people more curious, to give them so little that they yearned to find out more. He was under the impression his best performance was behind camera, that was where he did his best work, what he gave in press junkets was just the scraps. I always thought Max was missing the point, it wasn’t a game, it was just sales. Weren’t we supposed to be promoting something? Technically we were sales people, trying to get arses on seats, balancing books, trying to justify our ludicrous salaries.

  One night years ago, over wine and chocolate, I spoke to Franny about it, got onto the subject of rudest celebrities, which she was more than qualified to give her opinion on, especially when drunk and full of sugar. In fact, she had quite a clear opinion on fame and famous people, none very complimentary.

  “Actors assume as they play interesting roles it makes them interesting people,” she said. “And that they are always far more interesting than the person sat opposite them.”

  Biased, of course I didn’t agree, though I saw her point. But there was blame on both sides, ask a dull question and you’ll probably get a dull response, ask a lazy question, ask a personal question, the answer tended to match what came before. The best ones were the ones that didn’t feel like interviews at all, just a conversation, two people having a chat, though that was rare
, especially seeing as they lasted about ten minutes. Difficult for me and them to open up or reveal with so little time to do it in. I didn’t envy the press, must be a hard task, a horrible game neither player was enjoying. One side trying to say as little as possible, the other trying to get as much as they could. I’d say today had been pretty standard, a few tried their luck, a few just wanted to have fun, a few knew exactly what buttons they were pushing. One asked about my DUI, I was clever enough to handle that, I’d been well trained on dodging the truth, and giving politician answers.

  I noticed Sally behind the glass, waving me frantically back inside. I opened the door.

  “Rogan is here,” she said.

  “Can’t I stay out here?”

  “Are you mad, girl? It’s freezing being so high up. Even the sun is cold here.”

  “Pneumonia is OK with me. I’m surprised he has actually shown this time.”

  “Don’t start all that again. It sounded a genuine reason when he cancelled before.”

  “More like he is so famous now he can pick and choose what media duties he has to attend.”

  “What is your problem with him?” she said, sitting beneath a heat lamp yet to be turned on.

  “Long story.”

  “We haven’t time for long stories, Lilly.”

  “Wonder which Rogan has shown up? Gentleman or arsehole?”

  “I’ve never witnessed the latter. He has never been anything but pleasant, a little arrogant but aren’t all men his age?”

  “You do realize this is a bad idea? I told you and Jon this would probably backfire.”

  “Don’t worry,” Sally said, trying to turn on the heat lamp. “Everyone on both sides of the camera has been briefed. The questions will be tame at best.”

  “The questions might, but the answers won’t be.”

  “Is there something you aren’t telling me, Lilly? Did something happen between you and him that I don’t know about? If there is then you’d better tell me now.”

  “Sally, nothing happened. We just don’t get along. We never have.”

  “Well, you need to pretend to now. Bear in mind you are the movie’s only love interest. It would be nice if the romance could look remotely genuine, at least for the next hour or so.”

  I nodded.

  “You want something to chill you out?” Sally started to rummage through her things.

  “I haven’t got a headache, Sally. I doubt there is something in your medicine bag that cures me and Rogan.”

  “You’d be surprised what cures I’m capable of locating.” She handed me a foil strip of tablets and an assuming grin. “Look, take two of these. I’ll hold them off for five minutes, whilst you collect yourself.”

  “Cheers, Sally,” I said as she walked back inside. I looked out across the skyline, a view I had been keen to leave but glad to see again.

  60

  The bridges, the Gherkin, the Palace, the Abbey.

  Molly asked how many tube rides it would take to get back to our hotel. I didn’t know the exact answer, tried to work it out on my tube map, it was a puzzle I was too tired and worn out to crack, decided to treat us to a taxi home instead, trying not to look at the meter.

  “Looks like today has finally beaten her, Mum,” I said, noticing Molly had fallen asleep between us.

  “She’s not the only one. Just because I survived, doesn’t mean I’ve got nine lives.” Mum flicked through her new book. “She’s had the time of her life, though, me too actually. You been to Key West?”

  “No, but I know of it.”

  She smiled at her page. “Looks a fun time.”

  “Full of eccentrics and hippies. You’ll fit right in.”

  “You spoke to Emma?”

  “I’ve messaged her a few times, but she probably hasn’t got a signal.”

  “I won’t be awake by the time she gets here, will I?”

  I shook my head. “And that’s assuming there have been no delays either end.”

  “I bet you’re excited.”

  “More nervous, actually.”

  “Two months is a long time. I wouldn’t be surprised if you drag her to the bedroom and have your wicked way with her first chance you get. Just don’t be too loud,” she said, nudging me. “I’m in the room next door, remember, and those walls aren’t thick.”

  We stopped at more traffic lights, gave us time to admire the views. Road was a good way of seeing things, wasn’t so good for getting anywhere. We’d barely moved, every other mode of transport was quicker than us. I glanced at the meter, it was already at twenty pounds.

  “You have slept with her, Tom, haven’t you? You can tell me, I’m your mother.”

  “Sometimes I swear you’re controversial just to get a reaction.”

  “I’m just curious.”

  “You don’t think we have, do you?”

  “I don’t know, you tell me.”

  “Well, we have actually.”

  “That’s good news.”

  “You content now? Or do you want positions next?”

  “And, how was it? I mean, being intimate with someone after Cassie. After Lilly.”

  “How much wine did you have over dinner?”

  “I’m not drunk, Tom.”

  “Yes, we had sex. I shouted out Cassie’s name. Then I burst into tears. Is that what you are implying?”

  “Did you shout out anyone else’s name?”

  I picked up a newspaper from off the floor, a battered London Metro, pretended to read.

  “I wish you wouldn’t keep bringing Lilly up. Especially today of all days. And for your information, I never slept with Lilly.”

  “When you rang Emma to tell her we were going to Florida, admit a big part of you assumed it would be the end.”

  “Not really. I knew it could go either way.”

  “And what would you have preferred?”

  “This, obviously. Her coming here, coming with us.”

  “That’s a load of old bull, Tom.”

  “Mum, don’t ruin today. It’s been nice, don’t turn it nasty just cos you are in the mood for an argument.”

  “Admit you thought Emma would finish it, and admit that you were hoping for that to be the outcome.”

  “Why would I want that?”

  “Because your heart isn’t in it. It never has been, it keeps dragging on because you are too cowardly to stop it. You thought Florida would be the final nail.”

  “Why are you telling me this now? She arrives in six hours.”

  “I’ve told you lots of times.”

  “And I always give you the same response.”

  “Tom, it has been a year. If it was going to pass it would have passed a long time ago. You are not being truthful to Emma.”

  “I thought you liked Emma.”

  “I do, Tom. Hence why I think it’s cruel to lead her on, to lie to her.”

  “I haven’t lied.”

  “You haven’t told the truth either. She is crossing continents for you, Tom.”

  “Just because I don’t love her now, doesn’t mean I won’t later. She is beautiful, caring, perfect for Molly.”

  “But she isn’t Lilly.”

  “I don’t want to be alone anymore, Mum.”

  “I don’t want that either. But it isn’t fair to drag the poor girl all the way to America when you are in love with someone else.”

  “America makes sense for us. Florida is the right thing to do.”

  “For us. Not for her.”

  “No, for all of us. Emma included.”

  “Well, as long as you know what you are doing,” she said, returning to her book, as I turned back to my free newspaper, pretending I was reading when I’m sure out of my window was a better view. Maybe I’d seen enough landmarks for one day.
>
  * * *

  I heard sniffs and sobbing, crying that got louder the longer it was ignored.

  “What’s the matter, Mol?” I peeked round her door. “A nightmare?”

  She shook her head.

  “Do you want a little light on? Is it too dark in here?”

  Again, no talking, another shake of her head.

  I sat down on the edge of the bed and sat her on my lap, her head buried into my chest.

  “Come on, Molly, what’s up?”

  “London is scarier than home, Daddy,” talking through my T-shirt.

  “Is it?”

  “It’s noisy.”

  “Wasn’t Thailand just as noisy?”

  “Do you think Mummy will be cross at me?”

  “Cross at what?”

  “Cross because Emma is coming to live with us?”

  “Course she won’t, silly. What’s making you think that?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t like it if I died and you let another girl sleep in my room.”

  “You don’t have to worry about things like that.” I ruffling her hair. “Do you not want Emma to come?”

  “No.”

  “No, you don’t? Or no you do?”

  “I do want her to come.”

  “Then Mummy won’t be cross. She would be happy as long as you were happy too.”

  “Will one day Emma be my Mummy?”

  “These are big questions for this late at night, little miss.”

  “Shall I call her Mummy yet?”

  “Not yet. Just Emma is fine.”

  “When is she getting here? Soon?”

  “Not till later.”

  “I’m going to stay awake till she gets here.”

  “You need to close your eyes.”

  “Can I have a midnight feast? It says twelve, look,” she said, pointing at her glow clock.

  “Not tonight. We haven’t any food anyway.”

  “Can I watch cartoons?”

  “No, Molly. Time for sleep.”