by De-Ann Black
‘That’s right, I forgot you’re the paparazzi,’ he said, teasing me.
‘Award winning paparazzi,’ I said, joining in the joke.
We said goodnight to Bradley and his friends, who were enjoying themselves, but Finbar was surrounded by people lauding him for his arm wrestling, and I couldn’t get near him.
Vaughn and I left the bar. The snow was beginning to melt, turning to slush, and a misty rain made the lights from the bars and businesses a blur of colourful reflections.
The car was parked across the street. Vaughn wrapped his arms around me, to shield me as we ran to get out of the cold and rain.
I rolled down the window and looked out at Finbar’s premises. It was alive with lights and people. He’d created something from nothing. I had to admire him for that. The launch party had been a success, and when the photographs and story hit the papers, it would help establish his niche in the city.
Vaughn started up the car, and then something I’ll never forget happened.
Finbar ran out of the bar into the street. ‘Phred!’ he shouted as we were about to drive off. ‘I’d marry you tomorrow.’
For a second our eyes locked, acknowledging each other, then he turned and went back into the bar as we drove away.
Chapter Ten
One Year Later
I didn’t see a lot of Finbar after that night. Not because he didn’t like me, but because he did. Maybe that was Finbar’s and my story. Meet briefly, then part for a year. Repeat every year. It had been a year since I’d seen him, at the launch party for his bar. He’d e–mailed once or twice, then that fizzled out.
So I was quite looking forward to seeing him again tonight at the premier of Bradley’s new movie. Bradley had been nominated for a couple of awards for his performance in the film. This was a first. He’d never been nominated for any of his work before, but since he’d changed genres and gone for something different from his usual sci–fi, the nominations had been rolling in. And I’d been nominated for best screenplay. A lot had happened . . .
It was November. It hadn’t snowed, but I wished it would. I’d loved the icy landscape last year. But it was cold enough for snow. I could see my breath as I locked the house up for one of the last times. The lease was done. I’d tried to lease it, but the producer (snowman) said the property had been sold.
I was all dressed up for the premier — evening dress, sparkly shoes. I’d put a voluminous bag with some of my clothes into my car. Then I went in to have a last look around as it was, before I had to pack it all up and leave tomorrow. I’d wanted to say goodbye to the house myself. Vaughn had offered to come over, but sometimes in life the trip down memory lane is better walked on your own.
I’d wanted to remember all the times I’d had in this wonderful house. Vaughn said he’d help me pack it up in the morning.
Vaughn wanted me to move in with him. After the premier, I was going back to Vaughn’s house. Maybe this was a sensible idea. If he could survive living with my writing, artwork, photography, martial arts, baking, dancing and dressmaking, maybe we had a long future together. Vaughn said he couldn’t wait for me to move in. This was surely a great sign.
Vaughn and I had been dating for a year now. It didn’t seem like that. Everything felt compressed into a shorter wavelength. I could still feel the snow from last November, the freezing air, skating in the park, working at the newspaper office. I felt as if suddenly, if it didn’t work out with my scriptwriting, and I slid back down the slippery career slope, I could walk right back into the ringmaster’s office and be the hoopla journalist I used to be.
There was something I still missed about working at the newspaper, despite having to economise with the heating on my old apartment, and Royce cracking the whip. I think I missed the sense of it. A newspaper office feels as if it will always be there. No matter what. There will always be journalists, subs and editors churning out the news as the world swirls around it. It smells of coffee and paper cups and ink that isn’t really there. It feels like pressure and energy and a strange loyalty that binds it all together, and even people who don’t get on join forces when the chips are down to churn out that paper no matter what. And I missed that.
Yes, they’d stolen my toffee, confiscated my hat, bet against me, ratted me out when the money was right, so . . . come to think of it . . .
As for the paparazzi, I’d hardly ever seen them in the newspaper office anyway. They were the phantoms who went out and found the gold dust shots, and e–mailed them in to the editors, negotiating prices depending on the quality of the carat. It was a whole different game getting out there and being part of them. An experience, I’ll say that.
Scriptwriting is like the solitaire of the writing game. You’re on your own. But I’m fine with that.
After Vaughn sold my script to a movie studio in Hollywood, there was increased interest in my work.
The producer (snowman) wanted to read one of my scripts, so I gave him the one I’d written with Bradley in mind. Just as a spec script, a sample of what I could do. But he loved the script, and he bought it, and he pushed it through on a fast production schedule, filming for six months, post production two months, to have the premier one year from when he’d read it last November. They cast Bradley as the lead, and he was great. And that’s why he was up for awards. Tonight was the New York premier.
After locking up my house, trying not to be sad about leaving it, I drove to Vaughn’s house, and then he drove us in his car to the premier.
‘It’s snowing,’ I said, peering out at the scene as he parked across the street from the venue, the same one as last year.
I was excited about the premier.
Crowds of people were already there, along with press journalists and television news crews — and the paparazzi, cameras flashing, capturing the glitterati posing on the red carpet. The marquees dazzled with fairy lights, and I saw Bradley and his latest leading lady and ‘friend’ standing together in the spotlights. Bradley looked good. In the movie posters, the ripped leather gear and faux scar had been replaced by a gritty, cold–eyed spy, a classic figure set against a backdrop of a shadowy grey city. In real life, Bradley dressed to suit the mood of the movie in an immaculate black dinner suit, his blonde hair sleeked back emphasising his turquoise blue eyes. Go Bradley!
Vaughn and I stepped out of the car and headed across the street. Snow landed on my grey chiffon dress and grey velvet bolero, with the breeze blowing the long chiffon fabric like something out of a dream.
‘You look wonderful,’ Vaughn said.
I smiled at him. He looked great, with that handsome face, dark hair brushed back, grey eyes and a physique that made the most of his classic black dinner suit. Sometimes I wondered why Vaughn wasn’t up there on the silver screen. He had the looks. Maybe the next script I wrote, I’d base the lead character on Vaughn.
Bradley was pleased to see us, and pulled me over to stand beside him for some of the photographs.
I blinked against the sea of flashing cameras, remembering how I’d flashed my pom poms last year. There were numerous paparazzi, and I wondered if any of them recognised me.
‘Give us a flash of your tits, darlin’,’ one of them shouted. Well, that answered that question.
People were shouting to get Bradley’s attention, but amid that I heard various male paparazzi voices commenting. I couldn’t pick up every word, but I did hear sporadic words of encouragement . . .
‘Boobs.’
‘Knockers.’
‘Flash your tits.’
‘Pom poms.’
‘Woolly hat.’
‘Now she’s rich.’
It had a certain ring to it. If it was set to music it could be quite a catchy little ditty.
Vaughn escorted me away, but not before the fracas erupted.
In the midst of the paparazzi melee, a scuffle seemed to have broken out. When I say seemed to, this was because with all the flashing cameras it was hard to tell exactly what was go
ing on. I did hear the phrase . . .
‘Soften your ribs for you.’
A couple of the media photographers were helped away, seemingly with softened ribs and sore faces. In the furore no one knew who’d punched them. It had all happened so fast.
From the back of the melee, a man emerged, wearing a black suit, black shirt and grey silk tie.
‘Finbar!’ I shouted.
He made his way through the paparazzi.
Vaughn gave me a look.
Now we knew the source of the scuffle. I hadn’t wanted any trouble, but it was nice that he’d stuck up for me.
Finbar pushed his black hair back from his brow as he approached me. His quicksilver movements, a throwback to his boxing days, made him look sure footed and fit. He kissed my cheek and gave me a quick hug, his sparkling green eyes casting a glance at Vaughn to gauge his reaction.
Vaughn gave nothing away.
‘You’re looking well,’ I said, thinking he appeared extra fit, well rested, and younger than he did a year ago. Any tiredness from the stress of setting up his pub had faded. I could sense Vaughn checking him out and coming to a similar conclusion.
‘You too,’ Finbar said. ‘Beautiful dress. You look like a princess. And congratulations on all of this.’ His eyes flicked around the premier setting, the fairy lights, crowds, glitz and celebrity.
‘Thanks.’
‘You deserve it all, Phred.’
He was moving, perpetual motion and energy sparking through him.
Vaughn put a possessive arm around my waist. ‘People are going in now. We should go to our seats. You must be cold anyway.’
I wasn’t cold at all, even in this floaty chiffon evening dress and snow sprinkled through the air.
Finbar took the hint. ‘I’ll see you inside,’ he said to me, nodded curtly to Vaughn, and left us alone.
‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ Vaughn said to me, and hurried after Finbar.
I heard part of their conversation.
‘Keep your distance,’ said Vaughn.
‘I believe in fate,’ Finbar said, ‘and I just don’t believe that you were put on this planet to be the man for Phred.’
‘We’re happy, so stay away from her,’ said Vaughn. ‘What we do is none of your business.’
‘Phred loved me once. You can’t change that. She and I are connected from our pasts. Her happiness is my business.’
‘You blew your chances with her,’ said Vaughn.
‘Indeed I did. Biggest mistake I ever made. Second biggest was not contacting her soon enough when I got to New York. What? You think I’m over here just because I want a pub in New York? I do want the pub, but I came here to win her back. But by that time, you’d already stepped in . . .’
I’d have heard more but I was distracted by the feeling of being watched. Someone in the crowd. I couldn’t shake it off.
‘. . . You’re the same as me,’ Finbar said to Vaughn. ‘You’re a salesman. I sell drink and a happy atmosphere. You sell people’s talent to other people. That’s all you do. You don’t make anything. You don’t contribute. Phred does. That makes you ordinary. She’s anything but ordinary. Phred makes worlds. You’re in Phred’s world. Everything that’s here tonight, is here because of her. I’ll give Bradley his credit, he’s turned into a fine actor. I’ve seen the trailers for this film. Bradley contributes. He brings the character to life, but it still comes from the world that Phred made.’
‘I get what she does, and I care about her,’ said Vaughn.
‘I love Phred for herself. And so do you. But you also like her for how she makes you feel about yourself. I saw that in you last year. Working in pubs, you get to read people well. And she makes you feel better about yourself. But I want to make Phred feel better about herself.’
Vaughn repeated what he’d said, ‘Keep your distance.’
Again, I felt I was being watched, scrutinised. I searched the faces in the crowd, trying to see past the flash of the cameras. And there he was. Standing back from everyone.
Royce.
I waved, and then walked away from the sparkle of the premier, across to where he stood in the street. He wore a traditional mackintosh, the raincoat making him look even more like an editor. He was still easy on the eye.
‘Well done, Phred,’ he said, giving me no time to respond. ‘I wanted to give you this. I know you’re about to go in and watch the movie. I hoped I’d see you in time.’
He handed me a small jewellery box. I opened it, and there was a diamond and silver brooch. A paparazzi camera brooch.
‘It’s beautiful,’ I said, seeing it sparkle in the streetlight. A perfect little camera made from silver and diamonds, with one larger diamond set as the flash.
‘I’ve never seen anything like this,’ I said.
He held the box while I pinned it on my dress.
He smiled.
I cast a glance over at the premier. Vaughn was watching, an eager expression on his face.
‘You’d better go,’ Royce said.
I nodded and smiled, and then headed back across the street.
Royce called to me.
‘Hey, Phred. It’s not the same without you.’
‘Is that offer of dinner still on?’
‘I’ll call you next week,’ he said.
I nodded, and stepped back into the glare of the premier.
Vaughn didn’t notice the brooch as we hurried to our seats in time for the movie starting. I’d asked that Finbar was invited to the premier, and so he was seated next to me on my left, with Vaughn on my right. The three of us were in the second row. Finbar and I were the only ones who’d bought sweets to eat during the movie. When Bradley realised we had sweets, he leaned back and helped himself to a few. He was in the first row in front of us. I even tempted Vaughn with a caramel.
‘Where did the brooch come from?’ Finbar whispered. ‘You weren’t wearing that earlier.’
‘Royce gave it to me. He was waiting outside.’
Finbar’s eyes widened. ‘Wonders will never cease.’ Then he said, ‘Though I’d still like to punch his lights out.’
‘Ssh!’ I said.
And then we all settled down to enjoy the movie.
The big premier party was at Bradley’s house. We all headed there after watching the movie, which was a success with the audience if the cheers were anything to go by.
Hundreds of people were invited to the party, and Bradley had arranged for marquees to be set up in the garden. The snow was still falling, and everything was white and sparkling. There was catering, and bars with champagne cocktails, and dancing.
Finbar kept his distance, but occasionally he glanced over and gave me a reassuring wink that things were okay between us. I needed that. It could be another year before I met him again.
Vaughn was talking to a group of directors and producers, and I went to the buffet.
I was eating cake when Bradley called to me. ‘Phred.’ He came hurrying over. ‘Let’s go outside,’ he said, talking hold of my hand and leading from the marquee to the front door entrance of his house. We sheltered from the snow, and both of us were lit up by the spotlights.
‘I’ve wanted to talk to you in private all night,’ he said.
‘Is something wrong?’
‘No, no, I just wanted you to know that I appreciate what you’ve done for me. Your script has given me the chance to show what I can do as an actor. From that very first night that I met you, in that freezing cold apartment of yours, you thought I could do better. And because of you, and your writing, I have.’
‘I hope you win an award,’ I said.
‘I’ll let you in on a secret. Because of how they have to film one of the awards events, I’ve been told that I have won.’
I cheered loudly.
‘And I have a surprise for you.’ He gave me an envelope from his jacket pocket.
I assumed it was money, a cheque.
‘It’s not money,’ said Bradley.
&nb
sp; I opened it, and there was a contract. I read it over. Bradley had bought the house that had been leased to me.
‘It’s yours now,’ he said.
‘The house?’
‘I negotiated it as part of the deal with . . . the snowman . . . when I signed up to make the movie.’
‘Oh Bradley, this is far too much. I can’t take this —’
‘Yes you can. No money actually exchanged hands. The producer was quite happy to include this in the deal. With all the property he has, he’ll never miss one house.’
The realisation began to sink in. I had a house.
‘Oh and, you didn’t win the scriptwriting award. You were second, Phred.’
‘That’s okay. Second’s great. I have the house.’ I couldn’t stop smiling.
Bradley linked my arm through his, and we went back to the marquee.
‘Remember, don’t tell anyone about the award’s outcome yet.’
I nodded. ‘Can I tell them about the house?’
He smiled. ‘Hell, yes.’
Vaughn was the first one I told.
‘Bradley sort of bought my house. It was part of the movie deal with the snowman producer. Bradley’s giving the house to me for making him into an award nominated actor.’ I was careful not to say award winner, but I think Vaughn knew.
He was delighted for me. I think.
‘You’ll still come and live with me though,’ he said.
‘Yes, but I won’t have to pack everything up from my house. I’ll live between the two houses. I have plans.’
Vaughn smiled, cupped my face in his hands and kissed me. ‘I don’t doubt it.’ Then he became serious. ‘I know how Finbar feels about you, and that he’ll always be waiting for you, but that doesn’t mean I feel any less. We’re just different men. I think I can make you happy if you’ll give me a chance.’
I kissed him. ‘I am happy with you.’ I was. I had loved Finbar, and I still had strong feelings for him, but the scars of the past still cut deep. He’d dumped me in Dublin, and I hadn’t quite gotten over that. I knew I would, but just not yet.