“No, no…I’d better get home, too.”
Ruby was surprised at how disappointed she felt. She was only inviting him in for coffee, she berated herself. Nothing else. Absolutely nothing else.
“Oh.” She dropped her gaze, breaking the spell, and slipped off his jacket, handing it to him. “Thanks for the loan.”
“No problem.” He shrugged his coat on and placed his hands in the pockets.
“Right, well, good night,” she said, walking towards her front door. “Thanks for seeing me home.” Had he wanted to kiss her? Was she disappointed that he hadn’t?
Stop being ridiculous and get in the damn house.
***
“Shhhh!” Steve placed a finger over his mouth, trying to shush the woman, who was already undoing his pants – he meant trousers. Somehow, his key scraping around the metal lock, he inserted it into the keyhole. Would he manage in the bedroom department, if he couldn’t even manage this simple task? Oh, hell, yes. Blondie was nibbling on his earlobe, hands groping inside his stretched boxers.
Oh, that felt good. That felt very good.
What was her name? He’d asked her name, but could he remember it? Hell.
Oh, yes, he was very much going to hell tonight. And back. He hadn’t felt this horny since…don’t think about Erica!
They kissed, tongues now doing the dancing, and groping in the darkness, he led her into the lounge. Probably not quite a good idea to go upstairs…just in case Ruby heard.
He threw his jacket aside and they got comfy on the sofa. Underneath him, she whimpered and moaned as he stripped her top off, shedding his own shirt. He gave a squeeze of her round breast in its lacy encasing, and then he dug into his back pocket, finding the couple of condoms he’d collected from the vending machine in the men’s loos. His mouth nuzzled at her neck, around her collarbone, sucking, nibbling her smooth flesh, finding his way to a luscious breast.
Okay, I really should be taking my time here, but what the hell. A quick roll in the hay would do him good. He hadn’t had something like this sort of fun in a very long time. They were both drunk, they were either going to go all night or be a fifteen minute wonder. She didn’t have the faintest idea who he really was, hadn’t hinted. Steve had managed not to forget to use the name Stuart, though he had stumbled over it.
This was exactly the medicine he needed.
He had two condoms; he’d be slower next time.
Steve hitched her skirt up, then tugged at her knickers. Quickly, she raised her hips to aid their removal, her thumbs tucked inside his boxers, pushing at his trousers.
“What the hell is going on?” The lights went on, and Ruby, in pyjamas, scruffy haired, stood hands on her hips, wearing an expression fit to explode. “Steve, I think I should have set some ground rules.”
Fuck.
Blondie swiftly un-straddled her legs, pulled up her knickers, tugged her skirt down, and then covered her breasts with her arms.
Steve stood, zipping up his flies, fast.
“You bastard.” Blondie slapped him.
“She’s my sister!” Steve said, desperately, rubbing his sore cheek.
“You said your name was Stuart.”
“It is.” He glared at Ruby.
“Get her out,” Ruby said, pointing to the front door, her face flushed with anger.
“Hang on! Hang on a minute. We’re only having a bit of fun.”
“In my house!” Ruby was not calming down. “You’ll thank me later.”
“Will I now?” Steve gritted his teeth. Taking orders from Ruby was starting to grate on him now. Especially when she was ruining his fun.
“Leave. Now,” Ruby ordered the young woman. Steve stood in front of her.
“All right, Ruby,” he growled. “I’ll call her a cab. Just calm down.”
“Calm down. Calm down?” Ruby stormed into the kitchen, and the woman, whose name Steve for the life of him still could not remember, found her top and put it back on. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes glistened, ready to burst into tears. Ruby was slamming cupboard doors in the kitchen and making one hell of a racket, which made Steve’s head pound. He’d sobered in his head, even if his limbs were still slow and drunk.
“I’m sorry, I made a big mistake,” he said to the woman, combing a hand through his hair, then pulled out his mobile and dialled the cab firm.
Steve and Blondie waited outside Ruby’s house. He had his hands shoved into his pockets, she hugged herself – it was so damn cold. Steve still hadn’t got used to the cold. Oh, how he missed the warm LA evenings. Blondie, silent with anger, wouldn’t let him near her to keep her warm, so luckily, he didn’t have to wait long for the cab to pull up. She sneered at Steve, emphasising the guilt he felt, then got in the car. Steve leaned into the window and handed the driver twenty pounds that he’d counted out. “This cover it?” The taxi driver nodded. “Please take her home and make sure she’s safe.”
“Sure, mate.”
Steve sighed heavily, watching the taxi drive away, then looked at the house, knowing he had Ruby to deal with inside. Why hadn’t he gone to a hotel, for fuck’s sake?
“You stupid bastard!” Ruby greeted him as he closed the front door. “We have not gone out of our way to hide your identity so you can shag all and sundry.”
“I’ve got to test the water.” He threw his glasses onto the coffee table, sick to the back teeth of them.
Ruby shoved him. “Test the water!” She cursed at Steve till she’d run out of expletives.
“Ruby, please…”
“You test the water by taking them on a date, going out for dinner, not just shagging the first thing that takes your fancy. And, and,” she jabbed a finger into his chest, not even taking a breath, “what if she’d worked out who you were? Do you want her selling her sex story to the press? Because they’d buy it, Steve. Every. Gory. Detail.”
He swallowed, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. She was right. “I’m sorry, okay. I’ve had too much to drink, got carried away. I was reckless. It won’t happen again.” Way too stupid on the drinking. Callum drank like a fish and Steve was out of practice. Besides, he knew better than to drink too much. He’d seen the damage it did in Hollywood to young actors, and the stories the press released because of it. But stupidly, one drink had led to another tonight.
“It had better not.”
Ruby stormed back up the stairs, her feet thundering loudly on each step. Steve turned off the lights, and wearily walked upstairs, into the bathroom. He splashed cold water onto his face, cleaned his teeth, then – how he really hadn’t imagined the evening ending – got into his bed, alone.
Chapter 11
Saturday 9th November
Steve groaned, as sunlight peeked through the gap in the curtains and right into his eyes. Squinting, he checked his cheap watch; it was somewhere around ten in the morning. His mouth felt like sandpaper, and tasted like manure, his head thudded painfully with every pulse and hurt more when he opened his eyes. Next time, if there ever was a next time – Steve didn’t see himself doing this again in a hurry – he would drink a pint of water before going to bed.
Downstairs, Ruby clattered and banged. Still evidently pissed off.
He showered, hoping it would clear his head, and shaved, so he’d feel more presentable. Ruby’s insistence that he kept the shadow to a minimum meant he was shaving at least twice a day. At the hotel he took in an electric razor and on breaks would go to the locker rooms to shave. Luckily, the line of work he was now in meant he needed to look presentable, so other staff didn’t see it as abnormal. In fact, only the other day, he’d caught Pete in there also shaving, and cursing about it.
All this effort to find the woman of his dreams.
Obviously, he hadn’t said that to Pete.
Last night would have been nice, a one-night stand as an anonymous human being. But Steve couldn’t have those anymore. Not that it was his thing, but he’d had a couple of one-nighters when he’d been a lot younger
, in the days when he could be a free spirit. In fact, even back then, a one-night stand wasn’t what he’d planned. He’d usually hoped to get to know the woman the next day, go on another date, but for one reason or another it never transpired.
Damn, why’d he forgotten about Ruby and what her reaction would be? He should never have come back here with…and he still couldn’t remember her name.
It had felt good though. Was he finally getting over Erica?
Feeling only a tiny bit better – well at least he felt clean and didn’t smell – he threw a fresh T-shirt over his head, pulled on some baggy jeans and ambled down the stairs, taking things very slowly. His feet and calves ached from the dancing, and his pounding head didn’t aid his balance.
“Morning,” he said quietly and then winced as Ruby slammed another kitchen cupboard. “Any coffee going?”
He’d bought a machine at last, and was pleased to see the jug full. He grabbed a mug from the cupboard, making a lot less noise than his sister, and poured himself a coffee. The smell alone woke him up, brain coming alive. Ruby continued to put washed up items away, without making conversation with Steve. If Ruby’s anger was visible as a mist, the kitchen would be foggy. And its colour would be red.
“Why are you still in a mood?” Steve sipped his coffee, the liquid welcome in his mouth, the heat settling his stomach.
Ruby turned and glared. “Because I can’t believe you’d be so stupid.”
“Oh, Ruby, I’m not going over this again. I’m sorry, okay. You have no idea how sorry I am.” However much the coffee tasted good, he disliked the atmosphere. He dumped the coffee down the sink, leaving the mug on the side. He could afford to get coffee elsewhere.
“Where are you going?”
“Out!” He’d get breakfast in the high street. “Until you change the record.”
The walk would do him good, too, as he certainly couldn’t run after a night like that.
Making sure he had his wallet, he slammed the front door behind him.
“Everything all right, dear?” Ruby’s neighbour was putting some paper in her recycling bin. “I might be deaf, but I can feel a door slam.”
Steve smiled, forced somewhat, but there was no need to be rude to Daphne. “Ruby and I, well, I did something—”
“It is hard when you haven’t lived with someone in such a long time. You’re used to your own space.”
Steve nodded and waved a goodbye. Maybe that’s what he needed; his own space. He strolled down to the high street, knowing the café would be open, and he could have a fry up – the perfect hangover cure. He’d run an extra mile another day to compensate for the saturated fat. Every cold breath slowly cleared his head. By the time he reached the café he was ravenous.
He ordered the big breakfast and a coffee, then grabbed a free newspaper from a rack and found an empty table in the corner.
Tucked away in the back, Steve sat for over two hours, filling up on coffee. Even though the waitress wore a wedding band, she still flirted and gave Steve the most attention compared to the other customers.
Sometimes he wished he hadn’t been born with his looks. They caused him trouble. Usually a girl would not stop staring, then her boyfriend would get jealous, and blame Steve. Those were his younger days. There had been days too, when he encouraged the girls. Then, finally, his looks had helped him get parts in films. Okay, so he’d like to think he was good at acting too. He was. Directors and producers, and even the critiques had commended him for his natural comic ability; he made his characters whole and believable. He had a certain charisma on the screen. The camera liked him.
But he didn’t kid himself, his looks had eventually got him through the door of Hollywood.
***
Half an hour after Steve had slammed the front door shut, the doorbell chimed.
Ruby was not in the mood for a sales call. She really needed to put one of those signs up. The ones that said politely, ‘I’m poor, I don’t wish to buy anything, now sod off.’
“Yes!” she answered the door angrily. Oh, God, now she wished it was a sales person. They would have been so much better than the slime standing on her doorstep. She scowled. Bastard alert! “What do you want?”
“Hello, Ruby. Nice to see you, too.”
“Cut the chit chat. Why are you here?” Stupid question. She knew exactly why Terence Smythe, her ex-boyfriend, was here. Had he spotted Steve in the area? Terence was the one person who definitely couldn’t find out that she had her brother visiting. He worked for the local press, Bristol Gazette, and had used Ruby a couple of years ago, as Steve started getting famous. Terence made Ruby believe he was in love with her, when all he wanted was inside material on Steve.
“Can I come in?”
“No, I’m about to go out.” She grabbed her car keys, handbag and slipped on her boots. She had no make-up on, wasn’t even sure she’d brushed her hair, not that it needed brushing much being this short. A plus side when trying to get out of the way of journalists – obviously. At least she’d got dressed before he’d showed up, otherwise she’d be going out in her pyjamas. She had to get Terence away from the house before Steve returned.
She locked her front door, and stormed towards her car, the little shit following her.
“Have you seen these pictures? Your brother seems to have found a new girlfriend. Care to comment?” A moment of panic swept through Ruby. Had someone recognised him in the club? Or had the girl last night been a set up? All sorts of thoughts and fears entered her mind as Terence flicked through some glossy magazine until he came to the page, and then presented it to Ruby. Steve – or someone who looked like him thanks to the blurry quality of the covert picture – on a beach with a beautiful, bikini-clad, young lady, and looking extremely loved up, splashing around in the water. Ruby kept her expression stern, but inside she smiled. At least he didn’t think Steve was actually in Bristol.
“No comment. Steve hasn’t been in contact lately.”
“No invitations to meet his new girl?”
“Terry, Steve is half way across the world. I’m not interested. What he does is his business. Now bugger off.” She got in her car, slamming the door, wanting to trap the man’s evil hands in it, so he’d never type again. She turned the keys in the ignition and revved the engine.
She crunched the car into reverse, so angry at seeing the two-faced bastard again, all the hurt and misery rising inside her. Evidently, her feelings for this man were not as buried and forgotten as hoped. Her whole body trembled with shock and fear, hating the confrontation. She gripped the steering wheel hard, fearing she wouldn’t be able to turn it. Terry had made her learn that she also needed to keep Steve’s identity a secret in her life. The only way she’d find a decent guy, to love her for her, was if they didn’t know about Steve. Otherwise how could she trust them? How did she know they weren’t after Steve’s money? Or his story…She blinked back tears. For God’s sake, don’t start crying now.
She’d trusted Terry, and look where it had got her? She thought she’d found someone to share her secret, share her brother’s fame, and be proud that he’d made it. Instead, Terence had used every word she ever told him against her and Steve. Not that Steve knew of course. He’d probably break the man’s neck. Her mother had urged her not to react, too. The whole affair was swept under the carpet before Mum had died. All would come out in the wash otherwise, and it wouldn’t be good for Steve. Give the press an inch, they’ll take a yard, her mother had said. Yeah, Ruby imagined the headlines, “Mason’s Sister Murders Journalist Ex-Boyfriend.” Okay, so that was a crap headline – she didn’t want to be a bloody journalist – but the storyline certainly wouldn’t have gone in Steve’s favour. The press liked to dig up dirt, even a speck of dust in the family’s closet they would try making it into a skeleton. The smallest of things blown out of proportion.
Now she drove along the road, unsure where she was heading. Steve had left in a huff, but she couldn’t stay at the house, she needed to d
raw Terence away. She’d get lost at Cribbs for a bit. Retail therapy would do her the world of good. Not that she had the money.
***
With his head clearer, which had improved his mood, Steve strolled back home, hoping Ruby would be in a better frame of mind, too. He felt icy spots of rain as he walked, the sky growing greyer. He picked up his pace, eager to make it back before the sky truly emptied like it was threatening.
“Oh, damn.” He checked his jacket pockets, slapping at them, then his jeans pockets. Every single pocket. He’d forgotten a goddamn door key. Dialling Ruby’s home number on his mobile did not ease his nerves. She wasn’t answering. And lo and behold, he saw her car was missing from the drive. He phoned her mobile. That too went direct to voicemail.
“Hey, Ruby, in my rush, I forgot a door key. Can you let me know when you’ll be back? Thanks.”
In typical November style, the rain started coming down heavier. Cold. He kicked the front door, turning up the collar on his jacket, the eaves over the front door, just keeping him dry. Then, just to top Steve’s day, the heavens really opened. He hadn’t seen rain like it in a very long time. He ran across to Daphne’s door and rang her doorbell. Steve thought why the hell not. The old woman probably didn’t get many visitors, she might be grateful for the company. And he’d be grateful for the shelter. She took a few minutes to answer and he worried he was disturbing her afternoon nap.
“Oh, hello, it’s you.” Then Daphne frowned, looking at the rain, and then Steve, getting wetter by the minute, and said, “Everything all right, young man?”
“Hi, Daphne, I forgot to take my key, I was wondering—”
“Of course, come in, come in! I was about to put the kettle on.” Daphne opened the door wider and quickly ushered him in.
“I’ll make the tea, you sit down,” Steve said, wiping his feet on the mat.
“No, no, it’s my house and you’re my guest,” Daphne replied sternly. “Go sit down and warm yourself up. I insist.”
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