The Calendar Game (The Alpha Series Book 2)

by Andie M. Long

'I heard my name… What are you two ladies up to?' says Gabe.

  I look at him. 'Hear me out. Stella wants to marry you, but she hates all the wedding organising. She's busy with Athena anyway, and it's just not her thing. I'm suggesting you do it. Your Mother and I can help you.'

  'A wedding planner could ask her what she wants.'

  'I'm really not interested in the ceremony itself, Gabe. Can we not just go to City Hall for a civil ceremony?' says Stella.

  'Oh, please don't. I want my friends and family to see my eldest son get wed. A wedding is a big event,' begs Maddie.

  Gabe sits laughing at them both.

  'It can't be that hard to make a few decisions. Christ, I'll do it. When you're walking down the aisle in just a sexy basque because I forgot to order the dress it’ll be your own fault.'

  'I don't care.' says Stella. 'You organise it. Save me.'

  'Hey, you could somehow connect it to the Alphabet,' I add.

  'Why would they want to do that?' says Maddie, looking at me as if I need a straightjacket.

  'Ah, just for a bit of fun? There's usually a theme on the programme.'

  'Do it.' says Stella, clapping her hands together.

  'You're on,' replies Gabe. 'Mother, you'd better be free to help.'

  'I have a few ideas. We could we go into your office and I'll tell you my thoughts?'

  'Okay, but I'm going to show you I can do this on my own. Piece of cake.'

  'Is that right? We'll see if you feel the same after the ceremony,' says Stella.

  Gabe and Maddie head off to review plans.

  Stella leans over and kisses my cheek. 'Oh thank you, Ronnie, you're a Goddess.'

  'Well, we'll see if you still think that on your Wedding Day.'

  'Oh it'll be amazing. I'm sure.'

  'He's a man, Stella. Even Gabriel Gregory will be able to balls this one up. Good job Maddie is assisting.'

  Stella huffs. 'I love her to bits, but I think I'd have strangled her before this wedding was arranged.'

  Sam comes running over.

  'Ronnie. Is it true you aren't on television anymore?'

  'That's right honey. They decided they didn't want me.'

  'Good.'

  My eyes widen. 'Pardon?'

  'TV programmes are old now. I'm going to show you something.'

  'Okay.'

  He shows me his tablet, turned on to YouTube. 'People are making lots of little programmes. Having their own channel. You subscribe to the channel and get updates. Look. This is me.' He shows me a series of little episodes of him making Lego movies with his figures.

  'Wow. That's really clever Sam.'

  'I know, and I have hundreds of subscribers. You could do this with the stuff you did on Happy Morning.'

  I look more closely at the screen. 'Sam. I think this is an amazing idea.'

  Stella has been leaning over the tablet. 'The best thing about this, Ronnie, is they can't censor you. You can talk about whatever you want. For as long as you want.'

  I start to warm to this idea.

  'They could follow the progress of my gardens. I could do a weekly fashion piece.' I ruffle Sam's hair again. 'You, Sir, are a genius.'

  He jumps about. 'Can I set it up for you Ronnie? We could film your first episode here in New York.'

  'Yes. Let's do this,' I tell him.

  'This has been a very productive dinner,' says Stella.

  Sunday 4 May 2014

  I'm at Mike and Sam's, as an excitable Sam has told me he wants to set up my channel today. Seeing as I have absolutely no idea what to do, I agree to let him show me. I need to make sure I give this my full attention. I want this to work. Then I can show Happy Morning where they can shove their microphone. Mike hangs around to lend his support with camera work.

  'Not bad when an eleven year old teaches you, is it?' He laughs.

  'I know. Talk about make you feel behind the times.'

  'It's simple. Honestly, you grownups. Right, Aunt Ronnie, have you decided what to do? Did you write a bit of a script and learn it like I advised?'

  I try not to snort. 'Yes, Sam, as you advised.' I look at Mike who shakes his head and holds up his palms. 'I thought I'd do an introductory clip to show what the channel is about.'

  'We need a name for the Channel first,' says Sam. 'Do you have any ideas?'

  'Like what?'

  'Maybe a nickname?' suggests Mike.

  I don't think Pint Size Prick Tease would be a suitable title so I keep quiet. 'Not really. Harry calls me Ron.'

  'Veronica Veruca,' giggles Sam.

  I pretend to punch him in the arm.

  We sit for a while, thinking.

  'What about Reality Ronnie? Because I intend for it to be based on the truth, rather than the crap the press comes out with.'

  'Yeah.' says Sam.

  'I like it,' says Mike.

  Sam chooses from some photos I have on my Facebook account and makes me a channel header. Then he gets his camera and passes it to Mike. He pulls two chairs out and sits opposite me.

  'What are you doing Sam?'

  'I'm going to interview you. Let's go through your notes and make some questions.'

  'So he has his own channel and now he's interviewing me. What happened to your protecting his privacy?' I taunt Mike.

  'What can I say? I know when I'm beaten. It's that Gregory charm. No-one can fight it.'

  It takes time to set things up and we practice while Mike fixes us some sandwiches. I go and put my make up on thickly so I'll look better on the clip. Then we're off.

  'Hi, I'm Sam Lucas and I'm here to interview Ronnie Chelsea Huntington-Jones about her new Channel Reality Ronnie.'

  I smile.

  'So, Ronnie. What's the channel about?'

  'Well,' I flick my fringe. 'In the UK I was just removed from my post on a morning television programme after I got drunk after a night out. I fell in a bush. I feel I've not been able to give my side of things. You know, the truth behind the story. There are other stories surfacing all the time as well. Some of which are true, but many aren't. Also,' I take a breath. 'I really miss doing the lifestyle slot, so I thought I could do it on here. If people are interested they can subscribe.'

  'Okay, sounds great. So could you tell subscribers about what happened that evening?'

  'Well. I had one too many drinks and went to get chips with my friend Harry.'

  'Harry Taylor? The ex-footballer?'

  'Yes. We were out with another friend, but she went home. Anyway there's really not much to it other than on the way back we were being followed by a cameraman. I stumbled and dragged Harry into a nearby bush.'

  Sam giggles. 'And it looked rude?'

  I chortle back. 'It did. But it wasn't anything like that. Harry and myself, we're just friends.'

  Like fucking hell we are. The worm.

  'So are you dating anyone?'

  'I was at the time. So as you can imagine, the photos didn't go down well with Col.'

  'Col?'

  'Yes. Or as he was christened, Thomas Colin Fernsby Junior.'

  'The multimillionaire? Son of Billionaire Thomas Fernbsy?'

  'The very one. Except I had been dating him thinking he was plain old Col Fernsby, Manager of the Riverside Coffee shop.'

  'That must have been a shock, to find out the truth?'

  'It was. Plus when it hit the news about myself and Harry, it made me realise that Col had never made an effort to be seen out with me. I think I embarrassed him.'

  'So have you ditched him?'

  'We've split up, yes. It’s just me now. On my own.'

  'Sorry, Ronnie. You'll find someone else.'

  'You know Sam. I don't care. I'm me and I'm going to have fun. That's what this channel is about. Being yourself. That's why I’m calling it Reality Ronnie. I'm saying don't change yourself for other people. Don't conform if you don't want to. This is within a legal framework of course. What I'm saying is… if I want to get hammered and fall into a bush, I will, as do tho
usands of other young British people every week.'

  'So finally, what can we see on your channel?'

  'I want to show people my gardening. I'm a trainee Garden Designer and I think I'm good at it. I'd like to show people my talent. I also want to do weekly clothes, beauty and shoe updates. There will definitely be a weekly response to all stories I see in the press. A statement of truth. So if you want to have fun, subscribe.'

  'Thank you Ronnie.'

  'Thank you Sam.'

  'So,' Sam turns to the camera. 'If you like this clip please like, rate and subscribe.'

  Mike turns off the camera. 'That son, was excellent.'

  Sam jumps off and gives his dad a huge hug. 'Thanks for saying I could do it.'

  'Sure. Just promise if you get famous yourself, that you won't turn into Justin Bieber.'

  Sam shows me how to upload videos. It's pretty straightforward. Mike shows me some equipment I can purchase to record myself and we agree to go out later that afternoon to buy it. I feel positive for the first time in ages. I call Nina.

  'Hey you.'

  'Hey you, you sneaky monkey. Skyping Mike?'

  'Oh Christ. I feel so bad not telling you.'

  'Forget it. If you do me one favour, I'll completely let you off.'

  'Anything.'

  I love Nina and forgive her anyway. She's so bloody genuine. I know she was just being protective of Mike.

  'Can you tip off your contact at The Sun? Tell them I have my own Reality Channel.'

  'Sure.'

  A few hours later it hits The Sun Online. By that evening I have one hundred and twenty thousand followers.

  So I shouldn't be at all surprised to receive a text from Harry 'I-want-to-be-famous' Taylor.

  'What are you doing in NYC?' it reads.

  I text back. 'Visiting Stella.'

  'Send my love. What about my garden?'

  'Full on planting when I get back. I can't wait.'

  'Missing you.'

  'I've seen the press. Pheely is keeping you company, isn't she?'

  'She's boring. You're fun. Hurry up back. Sorry about Col. Actually I'm not. He’s a wanker.'

  'Well about that. Me coming back?'

  'Yeah?'

  'I currently have nowhere to live. Can I come and stay with you?'

  A couple of minutes pass before I receive a response.

  'Of course you can. That would be a right laugh. Definitely hurry up back now.'

  I bet. I wonder how long it takes your Publicist to put a spin on it.

  'I won't be much longer. I've got lots of shit to sort out back in the UK.'

  And you're the biggest turd of them all.

  Sunday 11 May 2014

  It's a traumatic exit from New York City. Myself and Stella can't stop crying. Athena is screaming. This time because I'm leaving and her mother is upset. Sam is mad that I won't agree to live in New York.

  I arrive back at Heathrow. There are press waiting at the exit. There must be some film star on the plane. I turn around to see who is being photographed.

  'Ronnie. Here, look at the camera, love.'

  Oh shit. They can't be. Flash. Flash. Flash.

  They are. They're for me. Thank goodness I stuck eight hour cream and Evian on my face during the flight.

  I hail a cab (crikey you can tell I've been in the US. I mean a taxi), and give the driver Harry's address.

  He's hovering at the door when I arrive and helps bring my cases inside. 'Ronnie you have half a million followers on YouTube and you've only done an introduction. You should look at the comments on your page. They're turning up to Riverside to meet the billionaire's son. I reckon a few of them fancy a rich husband.'

  I take my jacket off and throw it at Harry. 'Hang that up will you? Ah and could I have some water? I'm parched.' I start to walk through to the lounge. 'I'm glad they're hounding Col. I hope they drive him insane. He'll probably have his mother there to vet them all for eligibility.' I shout through.

  'Woah, feisty. I'd hate to be on the wrong side of you.'

  I smile sweetly. 'You'd be fucked and not in a good way.'

  'Erm, well anyway. Can I get you anything to eat?'

  This is fun. It's like I have my own little begging puppy. 'I could kill for a Chinese.' I say, and then watch as he rushes off to get a menu.

  I'm going to enjoy my stay.

  Stuffing my face with food, I thank Harry for letting me live here a while.

  'I'll get my things sent over tomorrow, if that's okay? I don't have much to bring. My Dad's had the furniture from the flat put into storage and it's up for sale.'

  'Do you want me to come with you?'

  'No, I need to do this myself.' Then I think about it. The press will be following, this is why Harry wants to come. 'Actually, yes. Would you drive me there? I can load your car up and make one trip.'

  'Absolutely no problem, Ronnie.'

  'Then I need to go and finish planting the rest of the design in your garden. I'm going to have such fun doing that.'

  'I'm glad you agreed. OK magazine are excited to feature it. How's the other garden progressing?'

  'Fine. It's a smaller project, so I don't need to go there as often. Saying that I'll pop over this week and see how Sophie is.'

  'That's some house she has. Who was she married to? They must have been loaded.'

  'I don't know. All I know is that she loved him very much. Must be nice, having someone you adore and who loves you back, heart and soul.'

  'It's out there Ronnie. You're feeling hurt from all this business with Col.' Harry comes and sits beside me. 'Maybe it's closer than you think, but you just can't see it yet?'

  He wraps an arm around me and pulls me in for a hug.

  I snuggle up. He might be a total dickhead but I'm not turning down a cuddle into his rock hard abs. I'm angry, not insane. Plus he's warm and toasty and I'm cold. Full of Chinese food and future plans, I fall asleep.

  Monday 12 May 2014

  I'm totally disorientated when I wake up. Not surprising when in the past ten days I've slept in the penthouse, Stella's guest room and now I'm in one of Harry's. The room is large, with light and navy blue painted walls. There's a picture of Harry in his football heyday on the wall. It's surprisingly tasteful, and I guess an Interior Designer has been at work here. The bedding matches with block colours. There's not a pattern in sight. I turn to get out of bed and my feet soak into a plush carpet, through which I can feel underfloor heating. Very nice. I stick on my chemise and robe and wander downstairs to see if anyone is around.

  'Morning, sleepyhead.' Harry is in the kitchen making up a juice that looks like something a cat sicks up after eating grass.

  'Don't tell me you actually drink that?'

  He opens his robe and pats his eight pack. 'I don't get this from having lattes.'

  'Fair point.' I walk over and give him a morning hug. 'Are you sure you're okay to help me today?'

  'Positive. It's no trouble at all.'

  'You're a good friend.' I give him an extra squeeze around the waist.

  'Let me get you a drink. What do you fancy?'

  'Something strong.' I look him over. 'A coffee. Full-bodied.' I wink.

  Harry walks behind the kitchen island in an attempt to hide an erection. 'I'll have a look. Do you fancy some cereal or toast?'

  I tilt my head so that I'm looking up at him. 'I don't suppose you could make me a full English?' I simper. 'It's just with going to Col's I don't know if I'll feel up to eating after.'

  Irritation flashes over his face before a mask of calm appears. 'Course. You run and get your shower.'

  'Thanks. Gosh a girl could get used to this Harry.' I let my robe slip off my shoulder, flashing some boob. 'Oops. Sorry about that.' I pull my robe tighter. 'I'm not used to having to cover up. At home I used to walk around fully naked.'

  'Oh yeah?' Harry gulps. Not noticing he's fondling an egg. Then he grins. 'You can do that here if you want. I won't charge extra for your lodgings.'
>
  'Oh Harry. I know you have tons of experience with women, but I would eat you alive.' I lick my lips. 'And enjoy it.'

  I think that's more than enough flirting for one morning and head to the shower. I dress and then return to the kitchen where Harry serves my breakfast. A mountain of food awaits.

  I mock baulk and hold my stomach. 'Oh, do you know… I can't face that after all. I'm so sorry. After all that trouble you went to. I'll just have a coffee.' I tell him.

  'Surely you can manage a bit?'

  'It must be the jetlag. Honestly I couldn't eat a thing. What a waste.' I pick it up and scoop it into the bin. 'Are you almost ready to go?'

  'No, because I've been fixing your breakfast,' He says curtly.

  'Well, could you hurry up? I'd like to get this over with as soon as I can.' I drum up a few tears.

  His tone softens, 'Sure. I won't be long. I just need a shower.'

  'Oh please. No. If you shower that will take longer. Get dressed as you are. No-one's going to see us. It's not as if anyone's expecting us there is it?'

  Harry looks panic stricken. 'But my hair needs washing.'

  I sigh. 'I'll just have to go on my own then.'

  'No, it's okay. Let me just get changed,' he says.

  I smile. While he goes to get ready I finish the breakfast bar that was in my handbag.

  I look at Harry from my seat at the side of him. He's done his best with his hair. However the man who usually looks like a walking Armani advert, instead looks like he's been through the chip fryer. He has a baseball cap on his head. He keeps glancing nervously in the mirror at his own reflection.

  'Harry, you look fine,' I tell him again.

  We pull up outside the apartment and surprise, surprise the press are waiting.

  He gets out and goes to open my car door. I look fresh as a daisy and flick my hair as I walk past them.

  'Good morning.'

  'Hey, Ronnie. Will you pose for us?'

  'Of course,' I say. 'But you must take a photo of me with my friend.'

  I grab Harry so he's next to me. Then I pull his hat off and refuse to give it back. The photographers get several pictures.

  'Don't print those. Only print pictures with my hat on,' Harry says tersely.

  'Harry don't be such a mardy arse,' I tell him. 'Go in the coffee shop and order drinks for all these photographers. They look cold.'