For a moment sadness and regret filled him. His mother. He’d hardly seen her in the last fifteen years, intent on making it big in Hollywood, plus flights home weren’t cheap when he hadn’t been making money. And then it had been too late, cancer took her in her prime.
He clenched his fists, reliving his anger. He should have been told sooner. He would have come home.
Thankfully, Suzie left him to eat his breakfast in peace, remembering that there were other first class passengers to attend to – especially the huffy old dear a row behind him – letting him dwell. The flight wasn’t busy – there weren’t many people flying in first class. He hadn’t made a fuss, wanting to retain a low profile, and it had worked. The cabin crew had been very surprised when the actual Steve Mason had boarded their plane.
After the breakfast trays had been cleared away, Steve must have dozed off, because he was gently woken by Suzie checking his seatbelt was fastened, and telling him they were approaching Heathrow.
About to disembark, Steve slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and felt a piece of paper in there. He didn’t remember having anything in his pocket. He took it out and read it: a note from Suzie, apologising for being unprofessional but providing him with her number, ‘in case he was staying anywhere near Richmond and needed company.’
He turned, winked, which made her blush and giggle, then walked off the plane.
Nothing personal, but he wouldn’t be calling Suzie, although he couldn’t just throw away her number, so he left the note in his pocket for now. He’d discard it later, discreetly. However much he would like to find love again, he knew Suzie wouldn’t be the one. She was in love – well, lust – with the star, the glamour, the money; not the real Steve Mason.
In pursuit of his luggage which he’d put through fast track, Steve tried Ruby’s work number. She was manager at a small hotel in the posh end of Bristol, as she’d put it.
“Good afternoon, Durdham Lodge, you’re speaking to Lydia. How can I help you?”
“Oh, hi, could you put me through to Ruby Fisher, please?”
“I’ll try her number for you. Who’s calling please?”
“I’d rather not say, I want it to be a surprise.” Steve wondered if he should have waited until he was out of the airport, the noise and bustling of people was making it hard to concentrate. He held his hand over his other ear. He’d wanted to call before boarding his plane, but with the time difference and everything, the need to just get out of LA, (he was the prime example that men couldn’t multi-task) – it had been the middle of the night in England – he had decided to leave it until landing.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I do need a name to transfer you. It’s company policy. What is the call regarding?” What did Ruby do that ensured her calls needed to be vetted? Even his own PA, Marie wasn’t this tough on private callers.
“I wanted to surprise her. Lydia, it is Lydia, yes?”
“Yes.” She had a soft voice. She sounded young, and he imagined her to be pretty…as pretty as Suzie, but telephone voices could be deceiving. Probably about fifty, married and looked like a dragon, knowing Steve’s luck. He’d have to ask Ruby about Lydia.
“My name’s Steve, and I’m family. We’ve not seen each other in a while; I’d like to surprise her, even if it is on the phone,” Steve said, trying to convey his smile down the line. “Can you trust me on this one? I’ll owe you big time.” A loud tannoy sounded over the arrivals lounge.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear you. There’s a lot of noise in the background,” Lydia said.
“Sorry, I’m at the airport. I’ve just landed.”
“Oh, okay.” Steve had to hand it to Lydia, he understood why she was doing her job properly. He’d often relied on a good receptionist’s vigilance to keep the prying paparazzi from finding out he was staying in a hotel. “So you’re definitely not trying to sell something?” She giggled. It was infectious. If only she knew who she was really speaking to, would she be so at ease?
Steve chuckled. “I promise, hand on my heart, I’m not trying to sell her anything.”
“Okay, I’ll try her line for you.” There was silence, then Lydia came back on the line. “I’m sorry, sir, she’s not in her office at the moment. Would you like to leave a message?”
“No, no, I’ll try again later.” Steve grabbed his case as it finally passed him.
“She’ll be leaving around six tonight. Try her at home after then, maybe?”
“Yes, I’ll do that, thanks for your help. Oh and please don’t mention that I called. Like I said, I want to surprise her.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” Lydia said, then, more hesitantly, “Will we get to meet you?”
“Um, I’m not sure yet. That’ll be up to Ruby. But if we do, I owe you a drink. Thanks for your help, Lydia. It’s been nice talking to you.” Even though disappointment lingered in his thoughts, his spirits had been lifted with his brief conversation with Lydia. She hadn’t known who he was, so had reacted to him normally. If only life could be that simple, maybe he could find a girlfriend.
Steve slipped his phone into his inside pocket and headed through passports and customs. When planning his journey, he’d thought about catching a domestic flight to Bristol, but instead decided he’d hire a car. Driving on the motorway was a better way to stay low and get lost in a crowd.
Steve had ensured he’d drunk enough coffee to keep him awake for the two hour car journey. He needn’t have worried. Concentrating on staying left whilst fighting his way onto the M4 was enough to keep him fully alert. He didn’t remember the British as maniac drivers. Wasn’t the speed limit seventy?
How come they were all doing ninety?
He turned the radio on, tuned into Radio One, and although he no longer recognised the DJs, turned up the volume. It wouldn’t be long, and he’d be home.
***
Alone in his hotel suite Steve took his phone out of his pocket, and checked for messages. None.
Why did he keep thinking he’d see something from Erica? For Christ’s sake, he needed to get a grip. Erica didn’t want him back, she’d moved on. So should he.
Maybe this proved his skin wasn’t thick enough, he wasn’t used to being a celebrity yet. His fame still hadn’t sunk in. Which was ridiculous; he’d had three big movies now – okay, so he’d only been the male lead in one of them, Perfection, which had increased his profile. It had taken a while to get there, some bad films, some bit parts, his career starting with television shows and adverts initially, earning him a keep, but this was it. He’d just finished filming another lead role, and he had another film lined up on the horizon. His agent promised him filmmakers would be knocking on his door wanting Steve Mason, the new Hollywood hunk, in their movies. He’d never be out of work.
Perfection had been a mixture of action and romance, a box office smash putting him up there with the best of them. Instead of chasing for parts, film makers were chasing him. He’d finally done it after a damned hard slog.
His fame would only grow further now. At the moment, he still had an element of freedom; not everybody knew the face of Steve Mason like they knew Tom Cruise. His name was only starting to spread around Hollywood, and that’s why it was important to see Ruby now. His next movie, Nothing Happened was due out next year and after that, everyone would know Steve Mason’s face.
A quick glance at his watch told him it was half past six. His sister should be home from work. He dialled, and waited, praying it wouldn’t go to her answer phone.
“Hello?” The voice sounded dubious. He was lost for words, momentarily, and she cut in, “If this is one of those bloody sales calls, will you just piss off!”
“No, it’s not a bloody sales call.” Laughter laced his words.
“Who’s that?”
“Ruby, it’s me.”
“Who’s me?” she said impatiently.
“Steve.”
“Steve…Where are you?”
“The Hilton in Bristol.”
>
“No you’re not. Where are you really?” she said dryly.
He laughed. “I am. I swear, The Hilton, Bristol.”
“Which one?” She still didn’t believe him, her tone dubious.
“The one just off the M5.” He sighed, losing his patience.
“Bloody hell! I’ll be right over. I assume you’d prefer to be tucked away in your room?”
“Yeah, for now. We’ll have dinner here, I’ve got a suite.”
“Oh, um, what name should I ask for?”
“You won’t need a name, just come up.” He gave her the room number and ended the call, then started unpacking his things. Not that he’d be able to stay here long. Someone would work out who he really was and before he knew it, the paps would arrive.
***
“Where’s my British brother gone? What’s with the accent?”
Ruby had turned up half an hour later and hugged him. She’d changed so much since the last time he’d seen her. Lost some weight, and cut off all of her hair. It suited her though; she looked like a younger version of their mother with her tomboy hairstyle.
“Well, you tend to pick it up…and I needed to sound less British to get better parts. I have been living in LA fifteen years.”
“Don’t I know it, and you’re brown as a berry.” She gently prodded him. “Is it fake tan?”
“No.”
“Oh, well, you’ll soon lose that here. It’s turned so cold. So, what brings you home?”
“You.”
A stab of guilt hit him, realising his agent had encouraged him to visit Ruby. It hadn’t come from Steve; hadn’t entered his thoughts initially, as he was still carrying a slight niggle of resentment about his mother’s death. Damn, he was really glad to be here.
“Me?” Ruby said with disbelief.
“Let’s order some food and then we can talk,” Steve said, finding the room service menu. This was going to be tough. He hardly knew her now, but he wanted to get some time back with her. Catch up, talk about things. Mum, even Erica. Could he tell Ruby about Erica?
The room service arrived and Ruby and Steve sat around the small table. Ruby insisted she didn’t want wine, she’d drive home as she needed her car for work the next morning.
“So,” Ruby put her fork down and rested her elbow on the table, “when does your next film start?”
“Starts shooting in three months. Marie will let me know when they send the revised script through.”
“Marie?”
“She’s my personal assistant.”
“Is she pretty?”
“She’s forty-nine and married with two teenage kids.” He looked at her dead pan.
Ruby rolled her eyes. “Okay, so for someone who’s worth a million dollars, you’re looking pretty miserable. What’s up with you?”
“You read the papers, right?”
“Not really – full of tripe most of the time. Quick glimpse at OK or Hello when I’m in the hairdressers, but that’s about it. Oh, and I might catch the front pages of the newspapers before they head up to the rooms. But I don’t like reading stuff about you.” She shrugged.
“I was seeing Erica Kealey. We met filming Perfection.” During the making of the movie a passion had been ignited within them – it hadn’t helped they’d had a lot of love scenes. On and off the set, they couldn’t get enough of one another. Steve had believed Erica was his soul mate.
“The Erica Kealey? Wow! I did see you were going to marry your leading lady and was wondering where my wedding invite was, admittedly.” Ruby scowled.
“Yeah, well, we broke up.” Over a year later, when they’d made wedding plans for next spring – albeit loose ones, then she’d ended it all. She hadn’t even given him a backwards glance.
“When?”
“About two months ago – and now it appears she has a thing for her current leading man.” After their sudden break up, Erica had drifted to another man’s bed. She had moved on easier than Steve.
“Oh.” Ruby patted his knee. “I’m sorry.”
They finished their meal, then headed over to the couch, Steve pouring himself a large scotch. Ruby insisted on an orange juice.
“So, is that what’s bothering you? Erica Kealey? She’s your reason for turning up on my doorstep – sort of.” She gestured to the four-star hotel suite. “Do you still love her?”
“Yes, and no. I had the Hollywood bug, didn’t I? We’re so rich, so independent, we can leave a relationship at a drop of a hat. See it happening all the time.” Steve looked at his sister, and sighed angrily. Perfection had given him millionaire status, but even before that, his income had been increasing nicely over the past few years. From years of struggling, he’d gone to the other end of the scale. “I had hoped I’d be married when success knocked on my door. How am I going to find someone to settle down with now?”
Ruby frowned. “You want to settle down?”
“Yes, of course. Why is it so hard to believe I don’t want to play the field? I want to find love. Real love – like our mum and dad had.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Maybe I’m being stupid—”
“Ha! I didn’t say that.”
Steve scowled at her interruption. She buttoned her lips then sat rock still. “I want to find a woman who wants to get married and have kids. I want a family, like we grew up in. If I fall for an actress, she’s as busy as me, we have no time for one another, and then there’s the added stress of neither of us really committing. I mean it’s so easy to get out of a relationship in Hollywood rather than actually work at it.” He sipped his scotch, and slouched further on the couch, sighing heavily. “I want a marriage where we don’t need to discuss pre-nups.”
“You’d need to do that whether you married Miss Plain Jane or not. Otherwise they could take you to the cleaners.”
“Exactly! If I say who I really am, how do I know someone’s marrying me for me, and not my money? Not the person they see in the press. I need them to fall in love without all that getting in the way.”
Ruby chewed her lip, as if in deep concentration. Steve watched, depression deepening. Telling Ruby hadn’t lightened the weight on his shoulders as he’d hoped, just darkened his thoughts. He realised that he might not ever find the perfect woman. He was destined for a life of one Hollywood romance after another – and oh, how the press would love the gossip. It would be okay, but he was thirty-five now, and ready to settle down. He didn’t want to grow old and lonely. He wanted to find someone he could share his life with, as his mother and father had done.
Maybe Ruby didn’t remember, but their parents had been so in love. To this day, he remembered the tears his mother shed over their father’s grave.
“I’ve got it.” Ruby nudged him, shaking him out of his reverie. “What you need to do is be normal for a while.”
“Normal?”
“Yeah, be normal – like me.”
Steve raised his eyebrows. “You? Normal?”
Ruby scowled and nudged him with her elbow. “You know what I mean. Maybe if you take away your money, and flash looks, you might find someone.”
“But won’t I get recognised?”
“In London maybe, but here in Bristol…You can get a haircut,” she combed her fingers through his Hollywood hair, “lose the designer stubble, maybe we can get you some glasses.” She wiggled her finger at him.
“Like a disguise?” he asked warily.
“Yeah!” Ruby sounded excited, chirping up, almost bouncing off her seat. “Some people are going to say you look like you, but you can deny it. Change your clothes – you can’t wear Armani.”
“Not sure I like that idea.”
“If you want to fit in, and be normal,” she quoted with her fingers, “and want someone to love you for who you are, not what you are, you’re going to need to make some changes. And don’t flash your money around.”
“Hmmm…I’m seeing your point of view here.”
“You’ll need to get a job, because sitting around i
n a fancy hotel isn’t going to work either.”
“Yeah, I could get a job.” But how? Steve rubbed the stubble on his chin.
Ruby frowned. “Interviews are tough though, everyone will need references.”
“What about where you work, could you get me a job?” He smiled his Hollywood smile, looking her in the eye, knowing the true effect of his blue eyes – it always worked.
“That smile and those eyes don’t work on me. I’m your sister, remember?”
Hmm…He’d forgotten his sister was immune to him trying to get his own way. “But as I’m your brother, you could get me a job?”
Some time ago, he’d received a letter, an update from Ruby. She’d told him about her life and work, how she was happy running a small hotel on the outskirts of Bristol.
Managing meant hiring and firing, right?
She let out a deep breath. “Yes, I could get you a job, I suppose. But it’s only a small hotel; we don’t really need anyone at the moment—”
“I don’t need paying, just get me in so I’m doing something – meeting people, making friends.”
“Sure,” Ruby said, mimicking an American accent with a sly smile.
“Stop doing that!”
“What?” She did it again, drawing out the word in an American accent. A poor American accent, Steve might add.
“I don’t sound like that.”
“Yeah, you do.”
“It’s not funny, Ruby.” He looked at her sternly, giving her the ‘big brother hating being teased by his little sister’ glare.
“I’m sorry, but you sound all American,” she reverted to her Bristol tone, laughing. She nudged him. “So how long can you stay in the UK?”
“Three months – max! I’ve got three months to find the woman of my dreams, then I’m back to Hollywood.”
“Make the most of tonight.” She chinked her glass of orange juice against his tumbler of scotch. “It’s your last night as a Hollywood hunk.”
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