She's the One

by Teresa F. Morgan

  “Steve,” Ruby called calmly up the stairs, “you’ve got to go.”

  “I’m sorry, Lydia. I really am. If there was anything I could do to change this. I would.” He slowly turned, and with a heavy heart, lumbered back downstairs.

  “Goodbye, Ruby. I’m so sorry. Please talk to Lydia.” He glanced again at the stairs, hesitating. “I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

  “Go!” she ordered, wiping her face, losing control of her tears. “I promise I’ll talk to her.”

  “I’ll call you.” Steve nodded, then opened the front door – photographers flashed cameras, questions shouted all at once. Most asked why he was in Bristol, what was he doing, who was he with? It all blurred, becoming numb with the assault.

  Two intimidating muscle men in black suits – like bouncers outside a club, almost as wide as they were tall – ushered Steve with force towards an awaiting black car with blacked out rear windows. Another car waited behind it. Two other men were pushing cameras out of the way and clearing the path. One of the men with Steve opened the passenger door. Steve quickly ducked inside the car, the bodyguard joining him. They’d moved him so fast, the car sped off before he could think. He didn’t even have a proper look at the house – the home – he was leaving behind. Glancing out the back window, the other car followed with its passengers – his men in black.

  His heart heavy, he closed his eyes. When would he see Ruby and Lydia again? What a shitty way to say goodbye. Leaving the ones you loved always hurt. God, did he love Lydia. And dear God, this was the worst way he’d wanted her to find out who he was.

  But this was show business. The show must go on. The press didn’t care about who got hurt.

  Anger surged through his body. His fist clenched and he ground his teeth. His whole body tensed. He wanted to punch something, but years of training made him take a deep breath, and breathing out, he released the anger. But it didn’t alleviate his emptiness.

  Chapter 28

  When Lydia knew it was safe to move from the bedroom door, she sat down on the double bed, her arms wrapped around her knees, occasionally wiping away a tear. Tears, that however much she tried to hold in, wouldn’t cease falling. Typical; she had found his bedroom. Pale olive green walls. A couple of shirts hung over the solid oak wardrobe door. The X-box and a small television sat patiently in one corner. His discarded Christmas jumper lay on the floor and his glasses were crumpled in the corner; one lens popped out. The rage inside her fought the urge to collect the jumper up and snuggle it, to smell his scent. She could even get into his bed, and wrap the duvet around her and bury her head in his pillow. But she needed to forget, not remember. It wouldn’t comfort her.

  She could hear the commotion outside. It had got louder as Stuart – Steve had left the house.

  She felt hurt and used by – who was he? Steve Mason.

  Really the Steve Mason?

  She certainly wasn’t Erica Kealey.

  Now she felt stupid for not even recognising him. How had she not when they’d been so intimate? All the things they’d done – in her bedroom and bathroom! She buried her head into her hands. Oh, God! In her defence, she wasn’t one for keeping up to date with celebrities. She didn’t pore over glossy magazines like Alice. She didn’t have the time.

  So why hadn’t Alice realised?

  He’d duped her too.

  Or had she realised? She flirted around Stuart – Steve. Whoever he was.

  Lydia’s anger surged again, as intimate memories flooded her mind, mixed with longing and regret, the coldness of reality that it was all over. Do not hug his pillows.

  She didn’t understand why he’d lied.

  Why would someone who could have anything and everything disguise themselves?

  She understood he’d been maybe trying to have some quiet time with Ruby. But the job? The glasses? Even some of his terrible clothes. She’d found it cute and quirky, and one of his adorable traits, but, she shuddered; what had it all been for? Some game?

  The more she thought about it, the more it fuelled the fire of rage inside her.

  ***

  Ruby stared at the front door Steve had just closed behind him. Gone. And when would she see him again? He promised to return, but when? When would his schedule allow it? It could be a year, two years…

  Unstoppable tears leaked from her eyes. She felt an arm slip around her and bring her into a cuddle, but her mind was numb as she rested her head on Brett’s chest.

  “Ruby, this wasn’t me, by the way, before you think it was,” Brett whispered, anxiously, stroking his fingers through her hair. “I made you a promise. I swear, I didn’t tell a soul.”

  She hadn’t even contemplated that Brett had leaked the information – she’d confessed all on the morning she’d let Steve’s name slip; it had felt brilliant to share her secret. But then who had? She glared at Alice.

  “It wasn’t me either! I swear, Ruby.” Alice stood defensively, eyes wide. “I realised he had to be hiding for a reason, and I liked him too much.”

  “But I warned you about Terry,” Ruby shouted, stepping closer to Alice.

  “I didn’t tell him anything. I promise.”

  “You didn’t mention I had a brother working at the hotel – at all?”

  Alice shook her head, then her hands flew to her mouth and she started to shake. “Oh, God, I don’t know. I don’t think so. Ruby, I swear I didn’t know when he first picked me up. I promise, I stayed away once you’d warned me.”

  Ruby blinked. With rage building she wiped her face and yanked the front door wide open, searching the crowd of reporters. Some cameras flashed, but most were moving on now that the prize had left. And there he was; Terence.

  She tore after him, barging photographers out of her way, pushing and shoving.

  “You bastard. You. Fucking. Bastard!” she screamed. Hate, anger, tears flooded to the surface. “It was you. You couldn’t leave it until after Christmas.” As she came face to face with him, her fists clenched, seething, she punched, but she missed. She was being lifted, carried, dragged away from him. She fought the arm holding her back. “I want to kill him! Let me go.”

  “Ruby!” Brett yelled. “Ruby. Inside the house now. Before you make things even worse for Stu – Steve.”

  She hated the smug smile on Terence’s face. She hated it so much she wanted him dead, painfully, breaking every bone in his body, dead.

  “You bastards! Haven’t you got families of your own you should be with?” she screamed as Brett heaved her back into the house, Callum helping, pushing cameras out of the way. Then, hauling Callum in and pushing a reporter back, Brett slammed the door shut. He placed his hands on his knees and panted from the exertion Ruby had put him though.

  “Callum, away from the window,” Brett snapped. “Alice, get him away.”

  Alice, trembling, burst into action, pulling at Callum.

  Ruby, slumped on the sofa next to Daphne who gave her a pat on her knee, watching as Alice and Brett dragged the tree out of the window, baubles swinging and some dropping, a glass one shattering, and then between them shutting the curtains. Pointless. The bastards would have got what they wanted. And Steve was on his way back to LA. His home.

  She should have drawn the curtains earlier.

  “I’m sorry,” Ruby whispered to Daphne, fearing the old woman really shouldn’t be subjected to something like this in her time of life – especially Ruby’s language.

  “Don’t you worry, dear. If I was thirty years younger I’d have been out there with you swinging for those horrid men. I wish there was more I could do.”

  “Here, get this down you.” Alice handed Ruby a glass of red wine, and she thankfully took it with trembling hands, and gulped some down. Alice knocked back her own. Ruby needed to calm down. This wasn’t doing the situation any good, wouldn’t change the matter either. She needed to talk to Lydia, as it was essential she understood why Steve had done it.

  “When I first saw him, I thought he was a
catch, and I did think he looked familiar,” Alice said, mainly to Callum and Brett. “Then, when Terry took me out on a date, I put two and two together.” Ruby was still in a trance, trying to get back to the reality of the situation. “I really should have tried harder to shag him.”

  Callum snorted.

  “So where does the name Mason come from?” Callum asked, once he’d recovered.

  “It’s their mother’s maiden name,” Brett answered for her. Ruby nodded, sipping her wine. “Ruby, maybe you should eat some food.”

  She shook her head. “No, I must talk to Lydia,” she said softly, her voice hoarse from the screaming, and her throat tight from trying to hold in her tears. She listened for movement upstairs, but there wasn’t any.

  “So why was he pretending to be Stuart?” Alice asked. Callum shrugged, tucking into some of the food at the table. At least someone was eating.

  “It was my idea,” Ruby muttered. “My stupid idea.”

  ***

  Lydia had heard the front door open again. There was screaming. Ruby was swearing her head off. Lydia spied out of the window, using the curtains to hide her face. Ruby was ferocious, running at one reporter. Lydia recognised him, but where from?

  “Oh, he came to the hotel that time,” Lydia whispered. That’s why Ruby had sent Stuart – Lydia still thought of him as Stuart; Steve felt completely alien – her brother away that day.

  Lydia carefully watched as Brett hauled Ruby back indoors, the flashes of cameras lighting the street. Even Callum had shoved a few of the reporters who stood on the pavement by the front garden. The usually quiet, narrow road was swarming with paparazzi, like wasps, hovering around the house. Or vultures, wanting to pick flesh from the bones. Cars were parked on pavements and neighbours stood on their doorsteps, confused at the commotion. What would the neighbours think? Where were the police to move these cretins on? Lydia felt disgusted and appalled how these so-called human beings could show so little respect for someone else’s property, squashing bushes, trampling the grass. Good job it wasn’t summer.

  Evidently, her anger towards Stuart must be calming if she was thinking about Ruby’s garden.

  Lydia listened, and carefully kept watch. She’d wait until the coast was clear then leave. She really didn’t need this sort of attention. Steve Mason probably didn’t need this sort of attention either. He’d obviously wanted to keep her a secret.

  Had he been getting a kick out of it? Was that why he’d done it?

  Tears streamed down her cheeks. She sobbed, unable to stop herself. In some ways she didn’t want to stop. She wanted to cry until all the pain disappeared. The thought of never seeing Stuart again, never being held, kissed or made love to by him again…it was all over.

  There was a knock at the door, making Lydia hug herself tighter, sitting on the bed.

  “Go away.”

  “Lydia, it’s Ruby, please can I come in?”

  “No.”

  Ruby opened the door. Her face was puffy and blotchy from crying, probably a mirror image of Lydia’s. “Sorry. It’s my house, and you need to hear me out.”

  “You knew about this.” Lydia shouted, tension flooding her body. “You knew! Why’d he do it? Why’d you let him do it?”

  Ruby sank onto the corner of the bed, and sighed heavily, then looked Lydia in the eye. In the dim light the lamp by the bed provided, Ruby looked how Lydia felt – utterly miserable. “It was my bad idea, Lydia.”

  “He’s a grown man, Ruby. He knew what he was doing. Why did he pretend to be…” God, she still couldn’t bring herself to say his real name, “Stuart?”

  Lydia watched as Ruby ran her hands through her hair, scrunching into fists, as if pulling at it, as if causing herself deserved pain.

  Ruby filled her lungs, then breathed out slowly before she looked at Lydia. “He came over in October, unhappy. He’d broken up with Erica Kealey, and was reeling off how he’d wanted to be married by now, but questioning who would love him for him, and not his fame and fortune.” Lydia stared at the pale, freshly painted olive green wall, but listened. “And I came up with the idea of a disguise. Strip away his assets, his swanky clothes, his designer stubble – God, you should have seen his face when I made him get that bad haircut.” Ruby chuckled, and Lydia found it briefly infectious, imaging the faces Stuart – Steve – could pull.

  “Then, I decided he needed a job, because lazing around in a four star hotel he would get noticed, and in my house, he’d meet no one.”

  “So you thought he could work in one instead?” Lydia’s words were laced with sarcasm.

  “I thought some of the staff, especially Brett and Callum, would make friends with him, and get him out socialising, and meeting someone. And he did meet someone, Lydia. He met you. And I know he loves you.” A tear trickled down Ruby’s cheek, and Lydia felt her own eyes stinging. She swallowed to halt her tears. “And I didn’t bring him to the hotel to intentionally meet you. You two hit it off all by yourselves.”

  “But Ruby, he’s not Stuart. I loved Stuart…”

  “Lydia, everything you saw was Steve. Everything. You saw his whole personality. Just without his money and fame.”

  “But that’s just it. I won’t fit into his lifestyle.”

  “You will. Trust me. I’m sure you two can make this work.”

  “I don’t know. I need time to think.” Lydia stood up and walked towards the window, sick of talking, sick of thinking about it. Her heart had just been ripped from her. Suddenly her love for someone felt gone. Yet, it hadn’t disappeared. She loved Stuart. Stuart. Not Steve. Her love for him ached in her chest. She missed him already. Only now, he’d lied to her, meaning her trust in him was lost. “I bet everyone’s laughing at me for not realising. Did the others know?”

  “No! Of course not. I told Brett, but only the other day…And Alice had worked something out due to Terry sniffing around—”

  “Alice!”

  “But I’d sworn her to secrecy, otherwise no one else knew.” Ruby stood from her perched position on the bed, too. “Lydia, he was going to tell you tonight. He was going to come clean with you earlier, but he chickened out, worried about your reaction. He loves you. Lying to you was eating away at him. He doesn’t want to lose you.”

  Lydia peeked through the curtain. Dark, with no moon, it had started raining, the wind blowing it against the window. The weather represented the mood of the house. A few determined reporters and photographers lingered outside under umbrellas – hopefully this weather would get rid of them too. Lydia wished the wind would take them, like the scene in Mary Poppins, all the hopeful nannies swept away, then she’d be able to go home. That’s all she wanted. Her own home, her own bed.

  Lydia wrapped her arms around her waist defensively, stepping away from the window, fearing she’d be seen by one of them.

  “Lydia, I suggested this for me as much as I did for him. It meant I got to spend time with my brother. I haven’t seen him properly for fifteen years.” Ruby sniffed, and wiped relentless tears with her palms. “Please don’t blame Steve. If you can’t forgive anyone, then make it me.”

  “Can you call me a taxi, please? I want to go home.”

  ***

  Brett helped Ruby clear up the disastrous Christmas Eve festivities. Daphne, Alice and Callum had helped, but feeling the need to be on her own, Ruby had sent them home. Alice and Callum shared a taxi, taking Daphne with them, promising they would see her home safely.

  This would go down as possibly one of her worst days ever, bar Mum dying.

  “Do you want me to go too?” Brett handed Ruby a cup of tea. She was curled up on the sofa, with the television on low, staring at the Christmas programmes. If she’d been in a better mood she’d have been laughing at the jokes. But she felt too miserable to laugh. Steve had been wrenched away from her early. No proper goodbyes.

  She’d envisaged waving him off at Heathrow Airport. Not this. She dreaded the papers and what would be in them on Boxing Day. Luckily,
there were no papers Christmas Day. What mess was Steve going to face?

  They’d both dreamt of him re-emerging in LA, and claiming he’d had a long holiday in the Caribbean and no one being the wiser. She wanted Terence to pay for this. Painfully. Excruciating pain. She’d never felt hate for a man like it.

  “Ruby?”

  “Huh?” She realised she hadn’t answered Brett. “Oh, no, no, I don’t want to be left alone.” She reached for his hand. “Please stay if you can. I will apologise now for not being much company.”

  Brett smiled, and nudged her over, to join her on the sofa. “I totally understand, and I want to be with you. It pains me to see you this upset and I can do nothing to stop it.”

  Ruby nuzzled into his shoulder as he wrapped around his arm, cuddling her. This was what she needed. Closing her eyes, her other senses heightened. She could hear his heart beating and he smelled like a mixture of home cooking and his musky aftershave. His firm hold comforted and soothed her.

  Ruby’s mobile rang its annoying tune and she jumped, wondering briefly, where she’d left it. Groggily, she grabbed it off the coffee table, and answered it quickly, fearing it would go to answer phone as it never rang for long enough.

  The caller ID displayed ‘Steve’. He was ringing from his old phone, not the stupid pay as you go she’d made him buy two months ago.

  “Steve? Is everything okay?” She rubbed her eyes, and Brett watched silently.

  “Hi, kid.” There was a pause, Steve sighing. “I wanted to tell you quickly that I’m safe. My flight leaves for Dublin soon.”

  “Dublin?”

  “Yeah, that was the best flight out of Bristol Marie could find me. I’m staying overnight – probably airside so the press can’t find me.”

  “Oh, Steve, check yourself into a hotel. You can’t sleep in an airport.”

  “I’ll see. I’ll be on the first plane to Los Angeles tomorrow, via Chicago.”

  “Quite a trek then.”

  “Thought it best to avoid Heathrow.” He sounded as miserable as Ruby felt, but at least she had Brett to comfort her. Poor Steve didn’t even know where he stood with Lydia. “I’ll call you in a few days and make some arrangements. I promise I will come home again soon.”