Away From the Spotlight

by Tamara Carlisle

  The pub was packed and loud. It was very traditional looking inside and a little worn around the edges. The square bar was in the center of the room, with its dark wood visible through the gaps in the bodies as we made our way toward the booths and tables at the back of the room. We joined a group of three men our age at one of the tables that was surrounded by benches.

  Will greeted each of the men and introduced me as we sat down together on one of the benches facing to the side of the pub. “Shannon, these are good friends of mine. That’s Damon, Niall and this is Pete.”

  I waved since I was already seated and said, “Nice to meet you.”

  They were all pretty good-looking and I was surprised that there were no women with them. Damon was of medium height, fair-haired and athletic-looking like a runner. Pete was tall, thin and with very close-cut brown hair. Niall had the dark hair and Irish good looks you would expect of a person with that name. They were all fairly casually dressed in jeans and soccer jerseys.

  After introductions, Damon, seated to my right, indicated that he would fetch us drinks and refill his own. He looked at me and asked what I would like.

  “Cider?” I answered.

  “Right-ee-oh. Be back.”

  “It’s about time you got here. We’ve been here for over an hour.” Pete sat to Will’s left and had leaned over to say that to Will privately, but I overheard it.

  I heard Will’s quiet response as well, “I’m sure it was a chore for you to have to sit here drinking beer all that time.”

  I interrupted loudly over the din, trying to start conversation and to learn a little more about Will. “How do you all know each other?”

  It was Niall who answered even more loudly from across the table, in a London accent that didn’t match his very Irish looks. “We were in school together.”

  “You’re from Shepperton?”

  Niall was the one who responded again. “You’ve been there?” He looked surprised as if Will hadn’t indicated to Niall that our relationship was serious enough for Will to have introduced me to his parents. I looked at Pete. He didn’t look surprised.

  I nodded in the affirmative.

  Niall checked himself and responded, “Yes. We’ve all known each other since we were in primary school. I could tell you stories.”

  Will shot him a hard look. “But you won’t.”

  Niall looked at me, smiled mischievously and winked. “Maybe later.” He then turned his gaze to Will. “You didn’t mention she had ginger hair. I might’ve known.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked curiously and looked at Will, who looked embarrassed. Will then glared at Niall.

  “I promised I’d be good. I’ll just say that he’s had a thing for it for a very long time.”

  I could tell that Will was becoming uncomfortable as he started to fidget. I placed my left hand underneath the table, squeezed his hand, and continued to hold it.

  Damon’s return to the table with drinks effectively changed the subject.

  Pete started to talk to Niall and Will. I had trouble hearing him. At about that time, Damon leaned in toward me.

  Damon must have heard the tail end of the conversation with Niall. “Ignore Niall. We always do. He’s not a bad lad though he can be quite obnoxious at times. He likes to give Will a hard time. He’s probably envious.”

  “Why?” Of course, I knew the answer. Will was a celebrity and very successful.

  “Well, first, Will’s famous and living in America, and, secondly, probably because of you.”

  “Me?” I couldn’t figure how that could be the case.

  “Will’s not the only one who has a thing for ginger hair.”

  “Oh,” I said sheepishly. I turned back to the group and, sure enough, found Niall staring at me. I smiled at him, despite being a little uncomfortable after Damon’s comments.

  When it was clear that Niall didn’t intend to embarrass Will any further, Will relaxed and we all enjoyed ourselves. I met a few of Will’s other friends as they stopped by to say “hello” to Will over the course of the evening, but it was hard to catch names over the noise of the crowd.

  As Will and I walked home alone arm-in-arm afterward, I asked Will, “What did Niall mean about you and redheads?”

  “You caught that, huh?” He wouldn’t look at me as if he was embarrassed.

  “Yes.”

  “Niall and I both had a long-standing crush on a ginger-haired girl in school.”

  “And you won out I suppose?”

  “Actually, no. She was a year ahead of us and would have neither of us. I think that, when I showed up with you tonight, Niall may have felt like I had won after all.”

  “Why’s that?” I was confused.

  “Because that girl from school couldn’t hold a candle to you.” He turned and kissed me.

  “I swear you need contacts.”

  “I have perfect vision.”

  “Hmmm.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  It was my cell phone that woke me up fairly early the next morning. Pam called, sounding very excited about something. It took me a second to wake up enough to catch what she was saying.

  “You need to go get the papers.”

  “What do you mean?

  “You’re on the front page.”

  “What? Me?”

  “Yes. You and Will together.”

  “Oh crap! Let me look into it. I’ll call you back later.”

  I leapt back into bed to wake Will and tell him about the call. He rose quickly and peeked outside through the bedroom window. Sure enough, there was a crowd of photographers waiting.

  “Let me see if I can get some papers from one of my neighbors. I’ll be right back. Don’t go near the windows.”

  Will dressed quickly and practically ran out the door. He returned about ten minutes later with a couple of the morning tabloid newspapers.

  As Pam had said, the tabloids each had a picture inset in the front page with similar headlines to the tune of “Will MacKenzie’s Girlfriend Arrives from America.” The picture was fairly small since it was not the main photo on the front page. It also was a little grainy and colorless, like it had been taken with a telephoto lens from quite a distance. You couldn’t really see my face or tell that my hair was red. You could see Will with his arms around me kissing me near the car at the airport.

  I grabbed one of the papers and opened to the page with the accompanying article. Inside, there were two pictures: the first one was a larger version of that shown on the front page and the second was a picture of Will walking around the car to get inside. Taken together, it was clear that Will was the one in the first photo kissing me. The article read:

  Will MacKenzie, star of “Midnight” and other popular films and one of the most sought after young actors today, was spotted last Friday at London Heathrow Airport in the company of his striking new American girlfriend. Fans recently were disheartened to hear on an American chat show that Will, once a fixture in the Hollywood party scene, has settled down with his new lady love. Sources close to the actor tell us that the relationship is serious. Are there wedding bells in Will’s future? Stay tuned.

  “At least you can’t tell it was me,” I said trying to make things sound more positive to Will, who was staring at the page I was reading in horror.

  “Yes, but the paparazzi now will be determined to get a picture of your face. You should see the crowd outside.”

  “How bad?”

  “Bad.” He had his left hand at his temple and looked like he was trying to think. “I don’t want you to be trapped inside my flat the whole time you’re here. We have things to do. You’re leaving Thursday for Ireland. Let’s get moving and hopefully I’ll think of something to get us out of here.”

  “What’s on the agenda for today?” I asked, wondering if we would actually get to do what was planned.

  “I thought I would take you sightseeing.”

  “I think that’s going to be tough.”

  “
I know.”

  I dragged Will into the shower with me, hoping that it would relax him and take his mind off of things. Whatever stress relief was had was short-lived as he was nervously pacing around once we got out and got dressed.

  Will finally sat down and looked at me with a pained expression. “We can’t win, you know. Sooner or later they’re going to find us. When they do, and they find out who you are, they’re going to make your life miserable. I’m so sorry. I wish I could have spared you this.” He put his head in his hands.

  I leaned down to look at him through his fingers. “I’ll be fine. I can handle anything as long as I’m with you.”

  He looked up and I kissed him.

  We decided to exit through the back door of the building. It didn’t look like anyone was there and Will’s car was closer that way since we had parked around the corner from the flat the day before. We were clear until we hit the cross-street where the car was parked. A photographer peered around the corner and saw us. Will had my hand and we ran away from the photographer toward the car, jumped in quickly and drove away. We laughed as we sped away. We had won “Round One” with the paparazzi.

  While we were driving, I called Pam on her cell and told her that we were fine, but that I didn’t think we would be able to get together again before I met her at Heathrow for the flight to Ireland. She understood and hung up, saying, “Be careful.”

  Will’s mother and Pete both called Will on his cell to check in, having seen the morning papers. Will informed them that we would be fine and asked them not to worry, that he would take care of it like he always did.

  We decided to get out of Central London, believing that we might be safer elsewhere. We took the road north and I thought of a place where we could go that might be quieter this time of year: Cambridge.

  I had attended a summer program there after my sophomore year of college. Although I had one of the best times of my life there, I hadn’t been back since.

  “You went to Cambridge? I don’t know why I’m surprised.”

  “I told you I had been to England before a couple of times. That was one of the times. It was only a summer program. I received two units of college credit, that’s all. It was no big deal.”

  “I wanted to take you somewhere new.”

  “This will be just as fun for me, I promise. I would love to go back and see some of my old haunts.”

  “Will this make you happy?”

  “Yes. I would love to share it with you.”

  As we approached Cambridge, it was late morning, close to lunchtime. I took Will to a pub just down the street from the college I had lived in during my stay there. The food had been so bad at my college that I often came here to eat something after the so-called meals. The pub was located right alongside the River Cam and we sat out on the patio for the view since it was a nice day. I ordered quiche, salad and cider and Will had the steak and mushroom pie, and a beer.

  “Did you ever do that?” Will asked pointing at the people on the boats called punts that were pushed downriver with long poles.

  “Yes. We tried it ourselves. We were pretty pathetic. We had to have someone tow us back because we got stuck.” I laughed at the memory. Will laughed with me.

  “You want to try it again? It looks like fun.”

  “Sure, but let’s do the chauffeured tour.”

  We arranged for a private tour and settled into the punt facing away from the tour guide who was pushing the punt. Will had his arm around me and would kiss me from time-to-time throughout the tour, while we listened to the history of the various Cambridge colleges we passed and what life is like there today. Before we got out of the punt at the end of the tour, I used my camera for the first time since my arrival and had the guide take a picture of the two of us.

  After the tour, we strolled through town. It was very peaceful and the crowd was pretty light. There were a few stares, but no paparazzi.

  I then took Will to a well-known tea house for tea and the best scones I had ever had, piled high with jam and Devonshire clotted cream. I was going to be in sugar shock for days.

  We headed back toward London in the late afternoon, both of us quietly thinking about what was in store for us when we got there.

  As we approached Hampstead, Will looked at me and asked, “You ready?”

  I gulped, “Yes.”

  We were going to try the back entrance trick again, but we weren’t sure whether or not it was going to work. There was no key for the entrance from the back. The only way for Will to get in was through the front door. The plan was that he would drop me off at the back, park on the side street and brave the masses to come in through the front walking back to let me inside.

  We drove down a street perpendicular to Will’s and saw the crowd.

  “Don’t the police do anything about this?”

  “They probably have, several times today. The paparazzi just come back again and again. A picture of you or of us is worth a fortune to them. They won’t give up easily.”

  Will dropped me off as planned. There was no one there. A little bit later, although I couldn’t hear anything due to the distance and the building in the way, I imagined that I could hear Will arrive out front with cameras clicking and questions posed such as “Who is she?” “Where did you meet her?” and “How long have you been dating?”

  At that moment, I heard someone walk toward me and looked down at the ground before I heard the camera click and saw the flash. Not long after, I heard the door open and Will call for me to come inside. The photographer probably got a good shot of Will, but thankfully not of my face. This time, though, I wouldn’t be fuzzy and the fact that I had red hair would be clear.

  When we got inside, Will was upset. We sat on the sofa together and I kissed him to try to take his mind off of things. His mood didn’t improve.

  “Will, don’t be like this. We have only a few days left before I leave.”

  “Shannon, you have no idea what this could do to your life. I won’t do this to you.”

  “I don’t think we have a choice at this point.”

  “There’s always a choice.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Nothing.” Will scowled.

  “Will, nothing bad has happened. You’re borrowing trouble and you’re scaring me.”

  “Shannon, you just don’t understand!” he yelled. I had never heard him yell before except in his movies.

  I started to cry in response. I then grabbed my purse on the table next to the sofa and ran out of the flat, exiting through the back door. There was a lone photographer there waiting, but my head was down as I ran away. The photographer didn’t follow, probably unsure of whether I was the one he was seeking since Will wasn’t with me. I didn’t stop running until I hit the Tube station. I took the Tube southbound, changing trains at Euston, and finally arriving at Victoria, the Britrail station for those trains headed in the direction of Jane’s place. There were a few stares on the train as I sobbed somewhat uncontrollably. Upon arriving at Victoria, I wandered around and found a Starbucks and decided to get coffee before calling Pam.

  “Shannon, what’s up? Is everything all right?”

  “No. Will and I just got into a fight.” I fought to hold back the sobs and succeeded only partially.

  “Where are you? There’s a lot of background noise.”

  “At the Starbucks at Victoria.”

  “Can I call you right back? Let me get on a land line. I’m having trouble hearing you.”

  “Okay.”

  I took several sips of my latte before the phone rang.

  “That’s better,” Pam said. Of course, I hadn’t had any trouble hearing before. “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” I responded. “I thought about coming your way.”

  “You know you’re welcome here, but maybe you should consider going back and talking to Will. He’s probably very worried.”

  “I don’t care right this moment. He’s
all paranoid about the paparazzi and is taking it out on me.” Anger was beginning to replace my sobs.

  “He’ll calm down, I’m sure. He’s probably feeling guilty about putting you in this position.”

  “Maybe, but he shouldn’t be taking it out on me,” I said sharply.

  “I think the best thing for us to do is to change the subject for a while and let you calm down. Then we can figure out what to do. Okay?”

  I agreed and so we talked for a while about what we both had been doing since arriving in London. My sobs completely subsided and I hoped that the redness and puffiness in my face was starting to diminish. Just as I was about to return to the subject of meeting Pam at Jane’s place, I looked up from my latte to find Will standing in front of me with an anguished look on his face.

  “You called Will, didn’t you?” I said to Pam.

  “Yes, he called before you in a panic.”

  “Well, he’s here. I’ll talk to you later.” I’ll deal with the Benedict Arnold then.

  Will grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet into a hug. “I love you, Shannon. I am so sorry. Please come back home with me.”

  He kissed me and, when I pulled away, I noticed that everyone around us was staring, no doubt having recognized Will. Will must have noticed too because he took my hand and led me out of the coffee house. When we got outside of the station and to the street, Will started to look out for a cab.

  I said, “You’re assuming my answer is ‘yes.’”

  Will looked at me with a distraught expression. “You won’t come home with me?”

  “I will, but I don’t like that you just assumed I would.”

  “What do you want me to do, Shannon?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just mad at you right now.”

  “Why don’t I take you to dinner then and we can talk?”

  “Okay,” I said reluctantly.

  We took a cab to a trendy retro restaurant in Soho where the tables were not placed so close together that your neighbors could hear your conversation. It was a casual hipster kind of place, which was good because I was not dressed for a more formal setting. The cab ride was spent in silence and, when we arrived at the restaurant and Will was recognized by the Maitre D’, we were seated without delay at a dark and private corner table.