Close Up and Personal (Spotlight Series)

by JS Taylor

  We look made for each other. I wonder what that says about us. Was he acting a part? Is this what lust looks like?

  He flips another page, and there, in black and white is a picture of Madison Ellis.

  The familiar face has a sudden new resonance now I know her as Berkeley’s wife. She wears sunglasses, and her famous features look tired.

  My stomach turns to ice. His wife. How could I have forgotten?

  In the passion and excitement of James Berkeley the fact he was married had completely slipped my mind.

  A marriage of convenience. I tell myself. Or at least that’s what he told you. The sudden possibility rises as a sickening possibility.

  I almost sigh out loud, wondering if I’ve been caught in the classic married man scenario. It would certainly explain why the pictures have made him so mad. As I consider things this notion becomes more and more certain.

  Why else would be so upset to see our picture in the papers?

  On the kitchen countertop Berkeley’s phone rings. The buzz against the wood surface makes us both jump.

  James snatches it up. But not before I see the name on the display.

  Maddy.

  Maddy. Not Madison. Or Madison Ellis. What kind of name is that for a marriage of convenience?

  I feel as though I’m going to throw up. What if he’s been lying to me all along and stupid naïve girl that I am, I didn’t know any better? Perhaps James Berkeley really is cheating on his wife and I’m just the other woman.

  The possibility brings with it an unexpected numbness.

  “Hello Maddy.” James swings away from me to take the call.

  In that one movement it’s as though someone has poured cold water all over me. I stand for a moment, almost gasping in the sudden chill of realisation.

  He’s angry to be seen with you in the paper. He’s taking his wife’s call. He calls her Maddy.

  I make for the bedroom.

  Once inside my eyes sweep the designer furnishings, looking for my remaining clothes.

  I grab them up, not bothering to put my jeans on. My eyes rest on his gift of the Jimmy Choo shoes which I had slid my feet into so happily only last night.

  Now the tears come. I shake my head. The shoes can stay. I would rather die than wear something he bought me.

  I remember the Chanel suit back at my apartment. I’ll get rid of that later. For now I have to get home.

  I race out of the bedroom, tears streaming down my face, still barefoot and clutching my jeans and purse.

  My phone. I grab it.

  James still has his back to me, talking on the phone.

  “The earliest you arrive would be 5pm,” he’s saying. “You could take a private jet.”

  I can’t hear anymore. I run for the door and fast down the staircase. The metal is cold on my bare feet, but I can hardly feel it.

  All I feel is a sick hot feeling of betrayal in my heart.

  Then I’m out in the cold morning air of London, and the cobbles are like ice under my feet.

  A black cab trundles by, and I hail it with relief, hoping I’ve enough money in my purse to get back to Chelsea.

  The driver slows, and I pull open the door and climb into the back.

  “Are you alright love?” the driver’s eyes are warm and concerned.

  I nod yes. “Chelsea please,” I manage, in a choked voice.

  “Right you are.”

  He swings away, just as I hear someone calling my name.

  James Berkeley is out on the street, also barefoot, and shouting after me.

  “Someone for you?” asks the cabbie, slowing very slightly.

  “Just drive.” I blink, letting the tears fall, and the cab pulls away fast.

  I hear my name shouted down the street again, but I don’t look around.

  As we pull over London Bridge I allow myself a few deep sobs, before trying to pull myself together. I’ll have time to cry later. Right now I have to make sure I have money to pay for the cab.

  I fumble in my things, selecting my phone, and call Lorna.

  She picks up immediately.

  “Oh my God!” she shrieks down the phone. “How was he? What was it like?”

  “Lorna,” I say, “I’m in a cab.”

  Her whole demeanour changes instantly when she hears the tone in my voice. I realise must sound terrible.

  “Oh my God Issy. What’s wrong? What’s wrong Issy? Are you ok?”

  “I’m fine,” I lie, trying to keep my voice steady.

  “What did he do?”

  “Nothing.. It’s just. I’m in a cab and I don’t know if I’ll have enough money. I’ve only got a twenty pound note.”

  “Ok honey,” Lorna is all business. “Don’t you worry about that. I’ve got loads of cash. I’m coming down now. I’ll be waiting on the doorstep.”

  I close my eyes tight, thanking the world I have such a good friend.

  “We’ll talk about it then, ok?”

  “Ok,” I can barely get the words out.

  “Don’t you worry honey,” says Lorna. “We’ll get some ice-cream, and some movies and have a girl day, just the two of us. You can tell me all about it. You’ll be feeling fine soon.”

  “Yeah,” I whisper, knowing my world has just ended. “I’ll be fine.”

  Chapter 16

  Lorna is waiting for me as promised, with a handful of notes.

  “I would have taken her all the way home, even without the full fair,” says the cabbie to Lorna, as she helps me out. “She’s obviously been through a lot, poor girl.”

  This sudden sympathy brings another juddering grip of silent tears, and I nod in thanks at the driver.

  Lorna pushes a bunch of notes into his hands as he stares after me in concern.

  “Is she going to be alright?” he asks Lorna, reaching to pass her some change.

  Lorna nods, dismissing the change, and putting her arm around my shoulder.

  “Keep the tip. I’ll look after her. Thanks for bringing her home.”

  Lorna leads me inside, and I lean gratefully on her shoulder as we ride the elevator up to the apartment.

  Once inside I slump onto the sofa, bury my head in my hands and sob.

  Lorna keeps a tactful distance for a few minutes, making me a hot drink in the kitchen. Then she returns with two steaming cups of cocoa, and moves in next to me on the couch, tucking her long legs underneath her.

  “Do you want to talk about it honey?” she asks, brushing a piece of dark hair out of me face.

  “I’m an idiot,” I say, “a complete and utter idiot.” The confession brings with it a fresh bout of sobbing. Lorna’s face shows concern.

  “He told me it was a marriage of convenience,” I say, managing to find a little of my voice through the tears. “Then we got papped, last night, at a tango club.”

  Lorna raises her eyes at the mention of a tango club but says nothing.

  “When he saw the pictures in the paper he was furious,” I say, the memory bringing another flurry of tears. “Then he took a call from his wife. I think he was arranging for her to fly over from LA.”

  Lorna nods, thinking about this.

  “Honey are you sure you’re not over-reacting,” she says gently. I look at her through bleary eyes.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well. Just because he’s angry about the pictures doesn’t mean that his marriage isn’t a sham like he told you.”

  “What else would it mean?”

  Lorna shrugs. “I don’t know. A lot of famous people hate being papped. James Berkeley strikes me as the kind of man who would want to protect his personal life.”

  “Then why take a call from his wife?” I am adamant. “He’s been lying to me Lorna.”

  I visualise the pictures of Madison Ellis in the papers. Even in her forties she’s a classic screen beauty, with big blue wide-apart eyes and a sweep of sexy blonde hair.

  What was I thinking? Why on earth would James Berkeley choose me over her?r />
  “Ok honey,” says Lorna, obviously deciding not to push the issue. “Whatever you want. How about we stay in and watch some movies?”

  I nod, feeling pathetic and sorry for myself.

  “Here, I’ll put your things away.” Lorna gestures for the pile of crumpled clothing still clutched in my arms.

  I remember the Chanel suit.

  “Throw the suit out,” I say. “The one he bought me.”

  Lorna’s eyes widen. “The Chanel suit? Issy that’s a lovely suit. It was a gift. Are you sure you don’t want to keep it?”

  I shake my head. “Throw it out.”

  “I’ll find someone to give it to,” decides Lorna. “I’ve got plenty of model friends who it would fit.”

  I nod to her. She turns to leave and my phone tumbles from the pile of clothing in her arms.

  “Here,” she picks it up from the floor and hands it to me.

  I take it, and see twenty missed calls and ten messages on the screen. I’ve had it on silent, I realise, since I flicked it on for Lorna’s earlier call.

  It seems like a lifetime ago that I clicked that switch. Only a few seconds later and my world fell apart. Funny how things go.

  The calls are all from Berkeley, and the messages are too. They don’t say much, only petition me to get in touch.

  The last reads:

  Why won’t you talk to me?

  In a fit of sudden anger I punch in a text back.

  You have your wife to talk to.

  Then I delete his messages and toss the phone onto the couch. It begins ringing again. Him. I silence it and toss it down.

  There’s a buzz at the door, and I have a sickening feeling of who it might be.

  Lorna appears in the doorway, her face anxious.

  “Do you think that’s him?”

  I nod.

  “Do you want to see him?” She looks like she wants me to.

  I shake my head stubbornly. I refuse to be the other woman. And a part of me knows I would find it hard to resist him in person.

  “Please Lorna. Will you get rid of him for me? I don’t want to see him.”

  Lorna hesitates for a moment, and then walks away.

  There’s a click as she exits the apartment. A few moments later she’s back, looking upset.

  “Well I sent him away, but are you sure you won’t speak to him Issy? He looks dreadful.”

  Good.

  I shake my head again.

  “Ok. Well.” Lorna takes a breath. “Ready for the movieathon? I’ve got no castings today. We’ll just sit and eat and watch TV.”

  I give her a weak smile. Beside me on the couch I see my phone flash into life again. James Berkeley, reads the display. I pick it up and turn it off with a determined click.

  “That sounds good.”

  It’s four movies and a whole tub of ice-cream later when the door buzzes again. Berkeley has stopped calling, and my emotions have been lulled into a state of numb calm by sugar and Patrick Swayze.

  The sound makes us both start.

  “Him again?” asks Lorna.

  I shrug. “I don’t think so.”

  “If it is I’ll send him away.”

  Lorna stands and exits the room to pick up the entry buzzer phone.

  I don’t hear the other half of the conversation, but I hear her say: “I’ll buzz you up.”

  I sit a little upright on the couch, wondering who it is. I look awful and don’t relish the idea of explaining my red eyes and couch-potato chic to one of Lorna’s model friends.

  “Who is it?” I ask, as Lorna walks wide-eyed back into the room.

  “You won’t believe this,” she says. “It’s Madison Ellis. She’s asking for you.”

  Chapter 17

  Madison Ellis makes a shy little knock on our apartment door, and Lorna opens it.

  “She’s in here,” Lorna says.

  Madison appears in the doorway, her iconic features full of concern. She’s tiny in every way, and beside her Lorna’s model height looks towering.

  Her famous features look prettier in real life, and less intimidating. She wears a simple shift dress with knee high boots, and her blonde hair is fanned angelically around her face.

  “May I come in?” she says. Her voice comes out almost as a whisper, but I recognise the tone from the movies.

  “Yes,” I say, uncertain of what to make of all this. Madison Ellis is in my apartment.

  She walks forward and then positions herself uncertainly on the couch. Lorna mouths “are you ok?” and then retreats when I nod.

  “Cookie-dough,” says Madison, looking at the ice-cream tub. “That’s my favourite when I’m sad too.”

  Madison Ellis eats ice-cream? She’s a size zero.

  “Of course I have to go on a six mile jog afterwards,” she says, with a little smile. “I’m not a lovely young woman like you anymore.”

  Great. She’s also nice, I think sulkily.

  “James says you won’t return his calls,” she says.

  I sit up a little.

  “And he also says he’s thinks it’s because of me,” she adds.

  I have a sudden and horrible feeling that I’ve got things completely and utterly wrong.

  “I wanted you to know that there has never been anything between James and I,” she says, fixing me with a steady gaze from her big blue eyes. “It’s a Hollywood marriage. For the cameras. I owe James my career,” she adds.

  She’s looking at me intently, as though she’s genuinely concerned.

  “I…” I’m trying to speak, but no words are coming out. I simply cannot believe that this beautiful woman has come to my home to try and fix up things between me and Berkeley. And how wrong I’ve been to doubt him.

  The realisation brings with it a crimson blush, which lights up my entire face.

  “You didn’t have to come all this way,” I manage.

  She smiles, a big warm smile. “I was flying to England in any case.”

  “You flew to England today? And then you came to see me?”

  This is getting worse and worse. I can’t believe she has come to my house after a nine hour flight.

  “I am so, so sorry.” I sigh, and rub my forehead. “I… I can’t believe you’ve come over here. I’m so sorry. You must be tired.”

  She smiles again, and waves dismissively. “James’s happiness means a lot to me,” she says. “He might seem like an ogre to some, but he genuinely cares for people.” She’s looking at me intently again. “And I think he’s had some issues in his past which haven’t been resolved.”

  Now I’m interested.

  “What issues?”

  “James never talks about his past,” says Madison. “At least not to my knowledge.” She looks at me acutely for a moment, as if wondering if he’s said anything to me.

  “Oh.”

  “He’s in pieces,” really, she adds. “He’s desperate to speak to you. And I think he knows he messed up.”

  Did he? Suddenly I’m not so sure. In fact, I’m pretty convinced it’s me who messed things up.

  “I think I overreacted,” I admit, realising the truth of the words as I say them. Something about Madison encourages confidences. I wonder if this is how she rose to stardom. “I lost my temper.”

  My famous temper, I think wryly. My mother always said my Spanish hot-headedness would get me into trouble.

  Madison laughs at this last confession, and leans over to pat my knee.

  “Then you and James will make a great couple,” she says.

  “Look, Madison,” I still can’t believe I’m talking to her.

  “Maddy,” she says.

  “Um. Maddy.” This is unreal. “I’m really sorry you had to come over. Truly.”

  “That’s alright.” She reaches over and gives my cheek a soft little pinch. It’s the kind of gesture which would seem much too forward from anyone else. But coming from her it seems like the most natural thing in the world. I feel like I’ve known her forever.


  “I have a feeling I’ll be seeing a lot more of you,” she says. “I’ve never seen James this smitten before. And don’t worry. I’ll tell him to take care of you. Such a beautiful girl.”

  Take care of me. If only she knew.

  She stands, smiling. “I’ll see myself out,” she says. “Perhaps when I’m less jet-lagged you can come over my place sometime and we’ll eat some cookie-dough ice-cream.”

  “Uh. Yeah. Sure.”

  “I’ll see myself out.” And with a last charming smile, she’s gone.

  I sit back on the couch star struck and reeling from all of this. Part of me is a little annoyed with James. What sort of man sends a Hollywood A-lister to petition for a girl to take his phone calls?

  But the thought takes my heart in a happy warm hold, and I grin to myself. Ok I’ve been stupid and I’ve over-reacted. Yes I’m embarrassed - mortally embarrassed - that a famous actress has just seen me red-eyed on the coach. But despite all of this I don’t care.

  James likes me. Madison said so. And he hadn’t lied to me. His marriage isn’t real. I hug the thought to myself grinning.

  Lorna appears in the doorway, her face a picture.

  “So, all good in tinsel-love-town?” she says, a huge smile on her face. “Did a certain person get the wrong end of the stick?”

  I laugh. “Yes. Yes. Ok, you were right. I was wrong. There is nothing between him and his wife. It’s just for show.”

  Lorna collapses next to me on the couch.

  “Phew! Issy Green. Your life! You could be a movie all of your own. I knew you were a good actress, but I didn’t think I’d be welcoming in Hollywood royalty quite so soon!”

  I laugh again, and Lorna joins me.

  “It’s crazy, huh?” I admit, still trying to assess things myself.

  “Yeah,” says Lorna. “All these years you’ve been holding out on us. Then, wham! You have enough love life drama for three people.”

  She looks at me intently.

  So. I take it lover boy is off the hook?”

  “Yeah. I guess so.”

  “Then you best go call him, Miss Leading Lady.”

  I raise myself to my feet, my face still plastered with an idiot grin, and take my phone.

  “Just going to make a call in my bedroom,” I say.