by Matt Cain
He looked into his espresso as if for reassurance. ‘Erm, I just split up with someone so I’m recently single.’
‘OK and why did you two break up? Did you cheat on her?’
‘What is this? Some kind of grilling?’
She put on the face of an arch interrogator and adopted the accent of a Russian Bond villain. ‘Shut up und answer zee question, asshole!’
A smile flickered over his face like sunlight over shadow. Whatever she’d said to him in the parking lot about not liking his smile, she could admit to herself now that it was actually very charming, especially when it wavered with the tiniest hint of vulnerability. She wondered if behind his confident front he’d actually been nervous about taking her out to dinner. If he had, then that only made her warm to him even more. She felt something flutter inside her and took a sip of her tea.
‘No, I wasn’t unfaithful, no,’ he said. ‘I never have been, to be honest. At least not since I grew up, if you know what I mean.’
Hmm, she mused, maybe he isn’t such a bad boy after all. Could that even count as a tick?
‘I can’t see the point in infidelity,’ he went on. ‘If I’m not into someone I have to come out and say it. I’m all about honesty, Mia. Guess I always have been.’
‘Don’t tell me,’ she smirked. ‘I suppose that’s why you became a paparazzo?’
‘Yeah, maybe it is.’
‘Well,’ she joked, ‘that and wanting to pick on innocent, defenceless actresses while they secretly eat burgers.’
‘OK, I’m sorry about that.’
‘That’s OK. Apology accepted.’
‘But the way it works is, when you’re on the job you have to forget about your conscience. You train yourself to take pictures first and ask questions later. Because you don’t want to miss out on a picture and sometimes if you blink it’s gone. So you take it anyway and you can always decide not to sell it later. For the record, I’ve done that myself – several times.’
Mia nodded, taking it all in. She hadn’t realized the paparazzi had a code of ethics but now that he’d explained himself, it did kind of make sense.
‘And while we’re on the subject,’ he smiled. ‘Dinner’s over so it’s time I gave you your pictures.’
He reached into his pocket and handed her the package.
‘Thanks. Thanks very much.’ For some reason she felt a bit sad to have the pictures back. She slipped them into her bag and snapped it shut. ‘It’s very gallant of you to help me out like that. I really appreciate it.’
Hang on a minute, did I really just say that?
‘Oh and just for the record,’ she added swiftly, ‘I wasn’t defenceless. I could easily have set my publicist on you. And you wouldn’t want to mess with her.’
‘Yeah but you didn’t,’ he grinned. ‘You set yourself on me. And I’m glad you did.’
He sure was forward. But damn it was sexy.
At a nod from Leo, Luis appeared with the check and Leo insisted on paying it.
‘Erm, just so you know,’ she ventured, ‘I much prefer to pay my half of the check – if you don’t mind.’
‘Well I’m sorry but you’re not paying anything tonight. This is my treat.’
For some reason, letting him pay felt like a big mistake – it was almost like admitting he’d won, that he’d broken through her defences. It was about time she pulled herself together.
‘Erm, actually,’ she struggled, ‘that’s very kind of you but would you mind if I paid my share?’
He looked at her with a twinkle in his eye. ‘OK, well how about I do you another deal? Seeing as tonight’s arrangement worked out so well . . . ?’
‘OK. Go ahead.’
‘If you don’t want me to pay then there’s only one thing for it.’
‘Oh yeah, what’s that?’
‘You pay next time.’
She finally let a huge smile sweep over her face.
‘Looks like you got yourself another deal.’
6
It was nearly midday and Hector Molino had only just dragged himself out of bed. After downing two coffees and then brushing his teeth with whitening toothpaste so strong it burnt his gums, he’d jumped into the shower, where he was now standing under the powerful jets of hot water, singing along at the top of his lungs to his favourite power ballad by Ricky Martin.
‘Vuelve, que sin tí la vida se me va.’
Hector lived right in the centre of West Hollywood, where he’d recently bought his own little apartment above a Chinese takeaway called Phat Phuck. His boss Mia Sinclair paid him well so over the last couple of years he’d saved enough money for a deposit and had then signed the deeds to his very first home. It might not be a patch on Mia’s place and towards the end of the day it did tend to stink of Peking duck but despite all this, Hector was proud of being a homeowner at the age of twenty-four. It really wasn’t a bad turn-out for the son of Cuban immigrants who’d started with nothing.
‘Vuelve, que me falta el aire si tú no estás.’
Listening to Ricky Martin reminded Hector of being a young boy in Miami and watching his mother and father dancing and smooching in the garden of the family home. The two of them had been childhood sweethearts in their native Cuba but his mother’s family had suddenly emigrated to the US in great secrecy when she was just sixteen. Realizing that he couldn’t live without her, Hector’s father had sent love letters via other Cubans fleeing the regime, telling his sweetheart to wait for him as he’d follow her as soon as he could. A few years later he kept his promise and risked his life to cross the Caribbean on a makeshift raft, joining his patient beloved in Miami, where they eventually married and lived happily ever after. Hector had always adored hearing the story of how his parents got together and thought it was all so deeply romantic. One day he hoped to experience a love story of his very own.
Because Hector Molino was in love with love. Songs about love, films about love, books about love, plays about love – whatever the medium, he couldn’t get enough of it. So it was kind of fitting that he now worked for the First Lady of Love, particularly as he was such a big fan of her films. His favourite movie of all time was Harassment, which he’d originally watched on a date with his first ever boyfriend, shortly before losing his virginity round the back of the cinema. Of course he’d never told Mia that he was a big fan as he worried this would be considered unprofessional, which couldn’t be further from the truth. Hector took great pride in his role as Mia’s personal assistant, always working to the very best of his abilities and loving every aspect of the job. The only slight disappointment he’d experienced had been the discovery that the life of the First Lady of Love was singularly lacking in the very thing that had made her famous. But maybe all that was about to change. Hector had been working for Mia for two years now and he’d never seen her with such a spring in her step. The romantic in him was convinced that it was all down to Leo.
‘Oh vuelve, nadie ocupará tu lugar.’
Planning the couple’s big date over the last week had been a joy for Hector from start to finish. Mia’s agent Serena had been so worried about her friend’s safety that she’d insisted Hector speak to Leo about every last detail of the date and, best of all, that he personally waited in the house last night until Mia arrived safely home. Which meant that Hector had been thrilled to become the first person in Mia’s circle to find out how the date had gone. And if he wasn’t mistaken, it had gone very well indeed.
He switched off the shower and reached over to find a towel. As he patted himself dry he began replaying the events of last night in his mind. After all the comings and goings with Ronnie, who’d dropped off Mia’s car at the house but then had to be driven back to the underground parking lot so that he could pick up Leo’s motorbike, Hector had sat with the cats for what felt like hours watching the CCTV cameras for the first signs of Mia arriving home. When a car eventually pulled up at the entrance and swung into the driveway, he’d had to stop himself from squealing out
loud; if Mia was inviting her date onto the other side of the gates then things had obviously gone well.
What Hector had been most looking forward to was finally finding out what Leo looked like. He obviously knew what he sounded like from their numerous phone conversations and there was something about his deep, manly voice and British accent that he found seriously hot. Hector only hoped that he lived up to it in the flesh. As the car crunched to a halt in front of the porch, Hector dropped Bogie and Bacall and dashed to the hall window to peek through the curtains and take a look.
To his immense relief, he wasn’t disappointed. He saw that Leo had a cutely crooked grin, deep dimples and a real twinkle in his eye. And to top it all, the short-sleeved fitted shirt he was wearing hinted at a killer body underneath. There was no doubt about it; Leo was easily the hottest man Mia had dated since Hector had been working for her, including that gorgeous model Hart, who’d unfortunately only lasted a few weeks. Hopefully Leo would last a whole lot longer.
Hector carried on spying as Leo leaned forward to plant a kiss on Mia’s lips. It was only a little kiss and it only lasted a few seconds but it was quite definitely a kiss. And it was all so romantic!
As Mia opened the door of the car Hector rushed back to the kitchen, where he grabbed both cats and a magazine to flick through. The last thing he wanted was for his boss to think he was some kind of nosy gossip. A few seconds later he looked up, pretending to be surprised as Mia appeared in the doorway.
‘Oh hi, Mia, I didn’t hear you get home.’
She leaned against the doorframe and gazed into the air with a dreamy, distant look. For Hector, there was no mistaking the look of love.
‘So how did it go?’ he asked. ‘Did you like him?’
‘What? Oh, sorry yeah. Erm, it was OK. Yeah.’
‘Only OK?’
‘Yeah, erm, OK.’
There was a pause while Hector waited for more. As Mia plunged back into her dewy-eyed dreaming he realized he wasn’t going to get it.
She let out a long sigh. ‘Listen, Hector, I hope you don’t mind but I’m kind of beat. I’m going to head up straight away.’
‘Oh OK, that’s fine. You don’t want a drink or anything before you go up? Something to help you wind down?’
‘Sorry, what?’
There was no point; she was already halfway out the door.
‘Oh nothing,’ he mumbled half to himself, ‘just sleep well.’
‘Yeah, you too, Hector.’ She turned again to face him. And thanks so much for everything. You’ve been brilliant, you know. Totally brilliant.’
‘No problem, Mia.’ He forced a smile but couldn’t help feeling disappointed. He was dying to know more but it looked like he’d have to wait.
As he towelled himself dry the following morning, he realized that he couldn’t wait. Today was a Sunday so he wasn’t due in to work for another twenty-four hours. And twenty-four hours was such a long time – he simply wouldn’t get through it. He’d just have to invent an excuse and pop round to the house this afternoon. He began devising possible stories as he moved over to the mirror to apply a long series of premium skincare products lined up neatly on the shelf.
He began massaging the first cream into his skin and thought back to last night and how carried away he’d been by the romance of it all. In fact, he’d been so excited about his boss falling in love that he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep so once Mia had gone to bed, he’d dashed across town to meet some friends at a gay bar called The Man Hole. He was thrilled that Mia was so clearly in love but the look on her face had reminded him of how much he wanted to fall in love himself.
Looking around the bar for his very own romantic hero, he’d been sorely disappointed. The only people who’d chatted him up all night were an almost identical-looking couple with stubble and skinheads, who introduced themselves as Sexy Rob and Sexy Tom and bluntly announced that they were looking for a threesome. When he politely refused they gave him their phone number just in case he changed his mind. When he looked closer he saw that they’d written it on the back of a leaflet for a sexual health clinic. He spotted the leaflet now, lying in the trash can next to the sink.
He slipped into his bedroom and pulled on his Sunday clothes; sweat pants, a T-shirt and a matching baseball cap. He wondered what Mia was doing right now and if she was thinking about Leo. He always felt pleased when somebody else fell in love as it made him think there was hope for him yet. And if it was happening to Mia after years of disappointment, then maybe it would happen to him too. More than anything in the world he wanted to meet the right person and fall in love. And falling in love had always come easily to him. It was finding the right person that was the difficult part.
Already this year Hector had fallen in love three times. First there was a giant of a stuntman known as Deep Pan Dan because of his massive appetite. Hector had fallen for him almost instantly, only to be dumped a few weeks later once Dan had found out the only thing he could cook was a bowl of cereal. Next there’d been an Argentinian who claimed to be from the same village as Eva Perón and taught Hector how to tango. But he’d flown back to Buenos Aires after just a few months, ending it with Hector by email as soon as he arrived, quoting lyrics from Evita as he did so. And finally, just a few weeks ago there’d been a statuesque dancer known throughout West Hollywood as Black Beauty. Hector had assumed he’d earned the nickname because of his stunning appearance but later found out that it was because he’d given a ride to almost every man in town – including several while he was supposed to be dating Hector.
With each break-up Hector had been utterly heartbroken. And the injustice of it all only rubbed salt into the wound. All he wanted was someone to love. He wasn’t even that bothered about being loved in return. Sometimes he felt he had so much love to give that he might even explode. And with every day that passed he became more and more desperate to share it with someone.
For now he supposed he’d have to settle for loving vicariously through Mia. He slipped on his trainers and began looking for his car keys. All he had to do was invent some excuse to get him back to the house.
That’s it, he thought, I’ll pretend I’ve left my cell phone charger in the office. He had genuinely left his phone charger, but Mia didn’t need to know that he kept a second one at home. It was the perfect excuse; he could say he needed to make some important personal calls but his battery was almost flat so he’d had to stop by the house to pick it up.
He spotted his car keys on a table by the door and scooped them up. As he began trotting downstairs to the street he felt giddy with excitement. He was so happy that Mia was in love – and very soon he’d be hearing all about it.
*
I’m not in love, thought Leo, I can’t possibly be.
Watford let out a long fart.
The two of them were lounging around Leo’s home, which stood right next to the water in a quiet spot on the Venice Canals. It was a house he’d designed himself and very much his kingdom. It was split into three levels and filled throughout with bright light streaming through several large windows and glass doors. The floors were all made out of hard wood, which was complemented by exposed steel trimmings and granite surfaces, yet the place still managed to exude warmth and character. On the walls were a mixture of stylish abstract paintings and a selection of some of Leo’s own more artistic photos, blown up and framed. At the top of the house there was a roof garden with bamboo borders, cushion-filled hammocks and stunning views of the canal. On the ground floor, there was a large waterfront patio where Leo often held barbecues for his friends or raucous drinks parties for his expat mates when there was a big football match going on back in Britain. But without doubt Leo’s favourite part of the house was the huge open lounge, where he was sitting now with Watford. It was dominated by a long leather sofa, which snaked its way around the walls and had been kitted out with a giant plasma TV, full entertainment centre and every games console on the market, one of which he was playing while a
yawning Watford stretched out across his feet.
He was trying to stop himself thinking about last night’s date, which was what he’d been doing all morning. He really liked Mia and couldn’t remember ever being as keen on anyone he’d dated after just one night. Part of him was excited about the way he felt but another part of him was scared and a bit confused too.
Does she really like me or was I just imagining it?
Am I only interested in her because she’s much harder to get than anyone else I’ve dated?
And could a relationship ever really work between a pap and a target?
All he wanted to do was see Mia again, or just speak to her on the phone. But as her assistant had taken care of the arrangements for their date he didn’t even have her number. Already this morning he’d used his professional contacts to send her a little surprise by special delivery but now that it had been dispatched there was nothing he could do but sit and wait for her reaction. Which was why he’d decided to distract himself by playing Speed Demon 2 on his Xbox.
Just as he was about to steer his futuristic sports car off the roof of a huge skyscraper and onto the wing of a passing aeroplane, the phone rang. He hit Pause and picked it up. It was Ronnie.
‘How was the date, bud?’ he asked gruffly.
‘Oh, you know,’ Leo breezed, ‘it was all right.’
‘Only “all right”? Don’t tell me you didn’t get laid?’
‘No, I didn’t get laid. And for your information, last night wasn’t about getting laid in the first place.’
‘What was it about then?’
‘Well, it was, you know . . . It was about me and Mia getting to know each other. And I’m pleased to say that she’s a really great girl.’
Ronnie grunted. ‘So are you going to see each other again? Or has she lost interest now she’s got the pictures?’
‘No, I think we will see each other again. Hopefully . . . Yeah . . . But anyway, how about you, partner? Did you get home OK?’
‘Well if by getting home you mean riding across town on a motorbike dressed like some whacked-out trannie, then yeah, I guess it was OK.’