I just can’t believe this has happened. Mike was asking for me. Weeks ago, I would have jumped at this. Screw the damn volcano flight black-out—I would have swum back to Australia if it meant a chance with him again.
Today, though? Today, my heart quickened when it heard the news, then stammered back to normal pace. It didn't do the backflips it performed last night when Tate smiled at me. When he kissed me. When he told me how he felt …
“Well, we’re here. I’ll see you in the morning for our yoga shoot?” Davo asks, and I nod my goodbye as I scoot out of the vehicle, phone still in hand.
There’s only one thing to do in a time like this. I call Betty.
“Madison! It is so, so good to hear your voice,” she says, and my shoulders slump. God, I love this woman.
“You too, Betty. You too.”
“Now, dear. You know to call me Gran,” she chides, and for one brief moment I wonder if she’s forgotten that Mike and I broke up. “Even if things between you two aren’t how they used to be.”
“Oh Gran …” I trail off. “How’s Mike? A man from the hospital said you asked them to call me?”
“Yes.” She pauses, and I pull back to check the call is still connected, then return the phone to my ear again. “Did you know they landed a man on the moon?”
I bite my lip. A sick feeling twists my stomach. Gently, I reply, “They did, back in the 60s.”
“Huh.” Silence fills the line again, and I wish I was there to hold her, to help keep her in reality in this horrid moment. “Dear heart, how are you?”
“Excuse me?”
“How are you? With all this … after everything that happened. This must just be dreadfully tricky.” She tsks, and just like that, she’s back with me, as if her mind didn't just drift away. “This is a sad day; but Mike will live through this. The doctors told me it’s bad, but not life-threatening. They have their … excuse me, dear.” She coughs, and my heart aches for her. “They have their best team on the job.”
“Gran, is there anything I can do? I can get my parents to pick you up and take you—”
“Hush now, child. I’ll stay here. I’ll wait till we know more.” She pauses, and a soft, wry chuckle echoes down the line. “We can’t do much until we know more. I miss you, Madison.”
My heart chokes over the words. “I miss you too, Gran.”
We hang up, and I wish so much I could be there with her. She’s such an important woman in my life.
When I hang up the phone, I turn to the inevitable next line of communication.
My parents.
“Well, don’t you sound relaxed, dear. Like the verbal picture of island life!” Mum says, then the phone clicks, and I know she’s clicked it to speaker. “Henry! Henry, your child is on the phone.”
“How is my best son?” Dad huffs in the background, and I groan.
“Da-ad.”
“Oh! You meant my best daughter,” he says, and I’m only ninety per cent sure he’s kidding. “How are you, pumpkin pie?”
“Good. I just … I’m calling about Mike. He was in a car accident.” I traipse up the stairs that lead to my hut, then sit on the top one, gazing out at the ocean.
“What?” Mum breathes.
“I just got a call from the hospital. He’s in surgery now.” My voice breaks over this last word.
“Good Lord, we have to go. I’ll drive.” Footsteps thud, and I know my father has left the room to no doubt find his keys and his wallet. Possibly also a belt, depending on whether he’s left the house today yet or not.
“He asked for me, Mum.”
“Now, dear, you can't possibly get here. There’s the volcano.”
“I know. And I just …” I pause.
“Love, get in the car!” Dad bellows in the background.
“Give me five minutes to put my face on! That man …” Mum mutters. “Sweetie, we’ll call you back with an update on his situation.”
I bite my lip. “Okay. I’m also going to ask Courtney to tell his new girlfriend, so she might be there, too.”
“And if she is, we will be pleasant to her. It’s the Christian thing to do.” Mum sniffs. “Now, I’ve got to get ready to go, dear. I’ll give you a call after we see him.”
After that, I take my phone and dial the other person I turn to in times of crises. I call Courtney.
She picks up on the second ring.
“Hey babe. How’s tricks?”
“Mike’s-been-in-a-car-accident-he’s-in-hospital-and-asking-about-me-and-I’m-not-going-to-tell-the-truth-about-Tate-Masters-and-I-had-sex-with-him,” I blurt out in a rush, my voice low to avoid detection from the two resort staff ladies pushing laundry carts between huts.
“You had sex with Tate Masters again?” Courtney squeaks, and I cringe, hoping she’s not in the middle of the Lola office. “Tell me everything. How was it? Is he well-hung? You remember this time, right? Was it on the beach again? Do you have sand in your hoo-ha?”
“Amazing, yes, yes, no, and thank God, no, although I am a little sore,” I whisper, pressing my legs together. “That’s not the main thing though. Mike. He’s in hospital.”
“Sorry, you had sex with the hottest up-and-coming movie star in the business. That is the main thing. It’s the main event. You could charge Foxtel pay-per-view for this shit.”
I smile. “I kind of wish you could. I want to watch it just to look at his amazing body again.”
“That’s my girl.” Courtney pauses, and the background noise changes till there’s a white hush surrounding her. “Okay, let’s focus on Mike, but we’re coming back to the whole Tate thing.”
I recount the story of the doctor from the hospital calling me as I round the corner to my hut. I’m not ready to go inside yet, so I stroll out to the beach and walk through the hot white sand as I tell my best friend everything.
“Do you think Canada knows?” she asks, and I stop in my walk.
“I don't know. He asked for me, apparently. And my name is probably still on the insurance policy as next of kin …” I trail off. “Can you let her know? Just to make sure?”
“I don't have her number, but I’m sure I can find her on Facebook.”
I think of the twelve zillion photos I’ve stalked of her over the last fortnight. She can be found on Facebook, all right.
“What’s going through your head right now, chickadee?”
“I just want to be there for him. The thought of him hurt makes me feel sick, Courts. Physically ill. Despite everything that’s happened …”
“So how do you feel about him?” she asks.
“I don't know.” I shrug, kicking at a small clump of sand. “I still have feelings for him. Of course I do. We were together since I was a kid. But I … He hurt me so much. And something someone said here … I think maybe I was too caught up in him. He was my identity. And it feels kind of nice becoming a person on my own.”
Courtney clears her throat. “You’re my best friend, Madison Winters. You know I adore you, no matter what.” She pauses again. “I can understand if you feel that way. You were Mike’s girl to so many people for such a long time.”
Hearing the words from her hurt more than when I said them myself. Had other people noticed? Did I look like some desperate sad sack, clinging to her boyfriend and her career without a personality of her own?
“I know, but I guess I never realised I don't need to be those things. I can just be … Madison,” I say around the lump in my throat.
“I think it’s good that you’ve come to this conclusion. Did one of the yogis teach you that?”
“No.” A long breath whooshes out from between my lips. “Tate Masters did.”
***
When Courtney ends the call, I stare at my phone for a moment. It feels so surreal. I never thought the love of my life would be in a life-changing car accident. And I never thought I would react like this. So … so flat. I’m sad; I know he’s going through a horrible time right now. But this new Madison, the one
who surfs, who stands up for herself—she knows this doesn't change anything.
He broke my heart.
He cheated on me.
And no amount of wishing I was there can change that.
Still, I worry, my shoulders tense, as I stand up and turn around to walk into my villa.
My heart leaps out of my chest. There’s a tall man with long black hair and big black sunnies standing next to my bed.
Holding a hibiscus flower.
Smiling at me.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Tate
This is definitely either the worst or the best idea I’ve ever had. The worst, because she’s looking at me as if she’s about to call security. Best, because her room smells like her. Like the ocean. Like summer. Like the coconut sunscreen she wears. I want to go through her en suite to try find the exact scents.
But I’m a gentleman. And gentlemen don't do weird shit like that.
They just dress up in movie prop wigs and oversized sunnies to avoid any lurking photographer attention and break into people’s hotel rooms. You know. Nice guy moves.
Madison slides the balcony door open, her jaw somewhere around her boobs. Her eyes don’t smile at me like they usually do. “What are you doing here?”
Oh.
So maybe this wasn’t the grand romantic gesture I’d thought it was, after all.
“Surprise?” I ask, holding the flower out.
“You …” She shakes her head. “You broke into my room.”
“I did.” I nod proudly. “I needed to see you again.”
“This is not a good time for me.” She speaks the words slowly, and places her phone and bag down on the chair to the side of the door.
I frown. “So last night was convenient, but this afternoon is not.”
Familiar fire flashes in her eyes. “No, last night we had arranged to meet, and we did. This is unexpected. It’s the sort of dick movie star behaviour I told you I don't like. You don't get to just break into people’s hotel rooms, Tate.”
“And you don't get to just act like what we did last night didn't mean a damn thing,” I growl.
She blinks those deep brown eyes up at me.
Silence.
Then, “It meant something?”
“Of course it fucking did!” I throw the flower on the bed, giving up. “I don't know what and I don't know why, but you’re driving me crazy! I can’t get you out of my head. I even noticed your smile today, Madison.” My eyes bug out of my head. Surely she realises how insane that is, right?
A soft voice escapes her lips. “You noticed my smile?”
“Yes!” I exhale my frustration, my voice too loud for her small room. “Don’t you get it? I’m losing the damn plot.”
She sighs and sits down on the edge of her bed, her hands folded in her lap. “Sorry. I’m a bit on edge. I just … I just had a phone call from a hospital back home. My ex … he’s in surgery. Hit by a car.”
Oh.
Shit.
I sink down on the soft white comforter next to her and reach for her tiny, soft hands, clasping them inside my own. “Babe, I’m sorry.” The words feel like lies coming out of my mouth. Because I’m sorry she’s in pain. I hate seeing her like this.
But really, I’m not sorry at all.
The guy broke her heart.
And now it’s breaking her all over again.
“Be honest with me, Madison.” I give her hands a squeeze. “What’s going on inside that pretty head of yours?”
Half her lips rise up in a smile. “He’s asking for me. And I don't know what I should do.”
Punch the fucker in the balls.
Twice.
“Oh. Well, you could, y’know, talk about it, I guess …”
Or punch the fucker in the balls.
Twice.
“I guess it’s just—things aren’t what I thought they’d be. If you’d asked me a few weeks ago if I’d want him to miss me, to be asking for me back, the answer would have been hell yes. He broke my heart, but he was my everything, you know? But now …” She trails off, and I’m left hanging on the edge of my seat like she’s presented me with a cliff-hanger in a damn to-be-continued movie.
“Now …?” I prompt, consciously rolling my shoulders back and away from my ears. God, she’s gonna think I’m a fucking moron.
“Now … well, I know what’s happening with us isn’t really a thing.” She glances out at the water. “But I’ve really enjoyed it, all the same. And it’s definitely helped me move forward.”
I want to tell her how I feel. We’ve only known each other for a short time, sure, but there’s this weird connection thing going on. And her smile. I noticed her smile. And the fucking sunlight on her hair. Doesn’t she get that I think this could be more? That this might not be anything now, but it sure stands a chance at becoming something? Something good?
My mouth opens to form the words, to tell her how I feel. To let all those emotions out into the atmosphere. “I’ll move you whatever way you want to, babe.”
Ugh. That’s the best I can do?
She gives a generous laugh, which I seriously don't deserve. “Sorry. I guess I’m just not really in the mood right now.”
“Hey, that’s okay.” I take one arm and remove it from her hands, wrapping it around her slight frame and pulling her into my chest. She smells like damn coconuts again, and—
Tate, you’re sniffing her hair. Chill the hell out.
If only there was something I could do to take this hurt away. I know now it’s nowhere near as simple as throwing a phone into the ocean, even if the grand gesture had seemed like a stellar idea at the time. I need something more. Something that distracts her to the core.
Then it hits me.
“What are you doing tonight?”
“Tonight?” She tilts her head. “I don't know. Probably just the pre-bed yoga class, I guess.”
“Meet me at the beach behind the bar at ten.” I pull back from her and stand, unable to stop the smile on my face.
“You mean where we …”
“Uh-huh.” I wiggle my eyebrows, and she manages another laugh. This one is definitely a sympathy gesture though, so I press on. “Ten o’clock. Don’t be late.”
“Okay,” she says, but there’s a lightness on her face that wasn’t there a few moments before. She narrows her eyes and looks me up and down. “What’s with the weird get-up, anyway?”
“It’s a disguise. You like it?” I flip the black hair over my shoulder, and this time the giggle is real. “I’ll make sure I wear it tonight then.”
“Okay.” She smiles, and waves goodbye as I head toward the door.
As I reach out and grab the handle, I notice a large candle on her bedside table. “Bring that along.” I nod to it, and two faint lines cross her forehead.
And with that, I leave the room. Instead of heading toward the resort, however, I head toward the shanty town.
I have a few stops to make along the way.
***
Madison
“It’s not a date,” I tell Courtney, twisting my long dark hair so it curls over my shoulder. “It’s just two people meeting up late at night.”
“It’s just two people meeting up late at night,” she agrees. “A sex date.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s not a sex date.” I shove a bobby pin in, holding the front strands back from my face, then pause. “Do you think it’s a sex date?”
“Um, hot movie star shags you senseless for twelve hours straight, then asks you out to a deserted beach location?” Courtney laughs. “I don't know if there’s an Idiot’s Guide to Expecting A Sex Date, but if there is, I’d guess this guy has his own chapter.”
“Oh.” I purse my lips. “A sex date.”
Don’t get me wrong. Sex with Tate Masters has rapidly become my new favourite thing to do. He’d just seemed so sweet about the whole Mike thing. And then he’d told me he’d been thinking about me. And that he liked my smile.
; “A sex date, but that’s all. He’s a celebrity, Madison. And I know you’d like to think this could be something more, but the reality is, he probably has a girl in every city.”
“Courtney! He’s not like that.”
“Why?” She challenges. “Because he has a fake girlfriend and would never cheat?”
Spoken like that, my protests sound ridiculous.
“Look, I’m not saying don’t crush on him. Fantasise, daydream, and ride the hell out of that cowboy,” Courtney says, “just don't fall too hard. If anyone could make a hot celebrity fall for her, it’d be you, but this isn’t a fairy-tale. Men like that don’t go for women like us.”
The reality check smacks me hard in the face. Of course Tate Masters doesn’t really like me. This is just a fling. “I know that.” I don't know who I’m trying harder to convince—Courtney or myself.
“That doesn't mean you can’t enjoy it, though …”
I smile. She has a point. “Okay.” I pause. “How’d the talk with Canada go?”
“Good.” Courtney pauses. “They’ve … they’ve broken up.”
“What?”
“I wasn’t sure if I should tell you. Not when you’re doing so good …”
“Of course you should! This changes everything.” I take some lip liner and trace around my mouth. “Did she break up with him? Or vice versa?”
“I didn't exactly get the details, Mads. I just told her what had happened.” Courtney pauses. “And … she went to him.”
I freeze. She went. He asked for me. She turned up. I was stuck on an island.
Would I have gone if I’d been home?
The answer hits me like a ton of bricks. Of course I would have. I’d have dropped everything to be at that hospital.
So is it a good thing or a bad thing that I’m not within emergency distance?
“Mads? You still there?”
“Yeah.” I nod. My head is awash with thoughts, all demanding for my attention. “I gotta go, babe. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”
“No worries. Good luck on your epic sex date!”
“Thanks.” I end the call, my head a zillion times more confused than it had been when we started.
Fame (Not Like The Movies #1) Page 19