by Nikki Ashton
Marcia grinned at him and ran a hand over her candy floss hair. “Well fuck me, I do believe you like the little ballsy one.”
“I just said that,” Grantley bellowed, throwing his arms into the air. “She’s my friend.”
“Whatever, lover boy.”
Marcia waved him away and moved over to the kitchen area and ran a finger along the counter top.
“At least it’s clean. Now, when does Teen Mom get in?”
Grantley rolled his eyes. “I’ve told you before she wasn’t a teen mom, no matter what Sue-Ann tells you. She was not twelve-years-old when she had me. You’ve only got to look at her for Christ’s sake. Does she look thirty-eight to you?”
“Like hell she does,” Marcia laughed.
“Exactly. She was twenty-three and had been married to my dad for two years. The only time life became hard for her was when he left, and that was only because it meant she didn’t have a built in babysitter while she went out and got fucked up on vodka and weed with her friends.”
Grantley’s face was contorted with anger and pain as he raged at Marcia. I knew he didn’t rate his mum, but the look on his face made me think it was so very much more than her making bad choices.
“Oh my god, she’s going to be fifty.” Marcia roared with laughter. “I am so going to enjoy that day.”
Grantley shook his head, impatience seeping through his every pore. He turned to me. “I’m sorry, Phoebes.”
The smile he gave me and the fact that he called me ‘Phoebes’ made my heart stutter. It was silly, only a few people called me that, those who’d known me a long time, who were comfortable with me. Grantley felt comfortable with me and it made me happy.
“I’m fine.” I nodded and grinned at him.
“You sure? You know, after what happened.” He took a step towards me, holding out a hand.
I looked down at it and then back up to his face. His eyes were soft and pleading. I reached out and linked the tips of my fingers with his.
“Honestly, I’m good. Declan is an idiot and I know he was just trying to upset me.”
There was a crackling silence between us as we stared at each other, both of us watching the other carefully.
“Okay, okay,” Marcia squawked. “As much as I’m enjoying watching the crappy Hallmark love story unfold, I didn’t come here for that. You said you wanted my help, so here I am to save the day. Yet again.”
Grantley closed his eyes, and his mouth started to move. He was silently counting to ten.
I pulled on his hand. “I’m going to go.”
Grantley’s eyes flashed open. “I’ll give you a lift home.”
“No, no, no, lover boy.” Marcia stepped between us, pushing a flat palm against Grantley’s chest. “You and I need to discuss the Sue-Ann situation and also the reason you fucking bailed on the meeting I set up for you. Little Miss Snogie here can move that little ass of hers back home on her own.”
“Snogie?”
“Frozen.” Marcia and I answered in unison.
“Whatever,” Grantley said. “But if I want to take Phoebe home I will.”
“Honestly Grantley, it really is okay.”
He looked down at his watch and then back at me.
“Sorry Phoebes, but I think you’ve missed the bus back to the studio.”
His tone was self-satisfied and he had a matching smile. It was funny, I’d seen him smile more in the last couple of days than I had the whole last week on set, or in any photograph in the media.
“Listen, lover boy,” Marcia said. “Take her home or don’t take her home, but I let my car service go, so you’re gonna have to take me to my hotel first.”
“Where are you staying?” Grantley asked impatiently.
“Not the damn Lowry, that’s for sure. I do not want you knowing what I get up to off the clock.”
“Marcia, you know and I both know I have no interest in what, or who, you do off the clock.”
Marcia shrugged. “You’re just jealous that I can still pull the guys and yet you have trouble with the broads – present company excluded.”
She smiled at me and then turned back to Grantley.
“I need to shit and shower, so move it.”
Marcia rolled her hand, encouraging Grantley to hurry.
“Marcia! I do not want to know about your bathroom habits.” Grantley pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Okay. I’ll take you first.”
“Honestly Grantley, just drop me at the railway station. It’s fine.”
Grantley shook his head. “Nope. Go get changed, and I’ll get Barney to bring the car to the front. We’ll take Marcia back to her hotel and then you and I will have some dinner in my suite.”
I immediately looked down at the ground, wondering whether anyone else had heard my heart drop to the floor.
Dinner in his suite.
“Grantley-.”
“I insist,” he said, turning to pick up his coat from the back of the chair. “It’s the least I can do after my uncouth agent called you a whore. And,” He looked pointedly at Marcia, “it’s all on her.”
“Fuck you,” Marcia cried, and gave Grantley the bird.
Grantley
I couldn’t believe fucking Marcia, She insisted that Phoebe ride shotgun while she and I sat in the back. According to her, she wanted to talk business. Yeah, right. It had taken all of five minutes for her to drop her head back and start sounding like a rusty saw, snoring her head off. Not that anything was going to happen in the car between me and Phoebe, but Marcia was the fucking biggest cock-blocker around.
“You’d best wake her,” Barney called over his shoulder. “We’re two minutes away from her hotel.”
“Can I do it when we pull up?” I asked, glancing at her open mouth. “It’ll give me a couple more minutes of peace.”
Phoebe giggled and turned to look between the two seats.
“She looks quite sweet like that. Just a sweet, little old lady.”
“I fucking heard that, you little cu-.”
“Marcia,” I snapped, cutting her off. “Don’t.”
“Do you know how fucking insulting that is?” she growled at Phoebe, sitting up straighter. “You ask any fucker in showbiz, I am not damn sweet.”
“Hey now,” Barney said, looking at her in the rear-view mirror. “You’re one of the sweetest women I know.”
“That’s because all the women you know are sleazy, two-bit whores. Just pull up in front.”
With a deep laugh, Barney saluted her and signaled to pull up in front of the old, Victorian looking hotel.
“Here you are ma’am,” he replied with a smirk.
“Thank you Barnabus and when you take him and her back to the hotel, make sure he’s got condoms.” Marcia poked me in the shoulder.
“I told you, we’re just-.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she drawled. “Just friends. But while you’re being just friends, make sure you wrap it before you tap it.”
As Barney pulled to a stop, Marcia swung her door open and stepped out.
“I’ll speak to you tomorrow and talk about what we’ll do about your mother. But, do not call me before midday – damn jet lag.”
“Okay,” I sighed. “But Sue-Ann gets in the day after tomorrow, so we need to be sure we have a plan.”
“I said that, didn’t I?” Marcia rolled her eyes and turned to Phoebe, who was watching us carefully. “And you, don’t you dare try and pull that fast one of yours on my boy here. You do anything to jeopardize his career and I’ll rip those perfect titties of yours right off.”
Phoebe’s hand flew to her chest. “I wouldn’t.”
“Marcia,” I said, wearily. “Just get out.”
“See you fuckers tomorrow. Barney,” she barked, “take my damn luggage inside.”
And then she was gone.
Grantley
Walking into my suite, I sensed that Phoebe was dragging her feet and was feeling a little uneasy. I knew it was because we wer
e alone, since after seeing us up to the suite, Barney had gone off to see his lady-friend.
“You want a drink?” I asked her while shaking off my coat.
“A cup of tea would be lovely,” she replied. “I’ll make it.”
“What, you don’t trust my tea-making skills?”
“Well,” she said with a smile. “You are American.”
“What are you trying to say about my people?” I laughed, realizing with a certain amount of shock that she’d made me laugh, yet again.
“That you’re rubbish at making tea.”
Phoebe took off her own coat and went to hang it over the back of one of the dining chairs.
“Hey, let me put that in my closet,” I offered, reaching for her long, blue coat.
Phoebe’s cheeks blushed as she handed it to me and she looked so cute, I just wanted to kiss her. Shit, I’d wanted to kiss her since Marcia turned up.
“Thank you.”
“No problem.”
I gave her a quick wink and walked into my room, hanging our coats next to each other in my closet. Listening to Phoebe opening cupboards and clattering cups in the kitchen, I went into the bathroom and reached for my mouthwash. I didn’t want to jump the gun, but if I did get to kiss her, I didn’t want my breath smelling like shit.
After taking a quick swig and then spitting, I reached for my cologne and dabbed a little on to my neck. It was my favorite one and was not the one that I advertised – that one smelled like horse nuts- well, at least to me it did. Fresh breath and sexy smell, hopefully meant I was fully prepared if I got lucky enough to kiss Phoebe.
Taking a deep breath, I left the bedroom. I didn’t feel nervous per say, but there was excitement buzzing around in my gut. Phoebe was a pretty girl; with her fair skin and caramel hair with matching eyes, but more than that, she was funny and interesting. She wasn’t a yes girl just because I was the movie star. She was honest and real, and in my business, you rarely met anyone like that.
“Hey,” I said, as I walked into the kitchen area. “Did you find everything you need?”
Phoebe swung around and gave me a dazzling smile. “This coffee machine is amazing,” she replied with an enthusiastic sing-song to her voice. “I need to get Beth one of these for her birthday.”
She turned back around and continued watching the mug being filled. The excitement on her face warming my heart.
“I prefer a jug myself.”
As I moved to stand beside her, Phoebe looked up at me with a twinkle in her eyes.
“No way, this is much more fun.”
“If you say so.” I chuckled and gave her shoulder a squeeze.
I didn’t miss the little shiver her body gave and it excited me. I wanted her to want me. I wanted her to care about me. I wanted her to enjoy being with me. I wanted her, period.
When the machine finished, Phoebe passed me the mug and then turned back to stir the cup of tea that she’d already made.
“Sorry,” she said, without facing me. “You do take it black, don’t you?”
“Black is perfect.” I replied, watching her carefully.
Her arms were slim and elegant, and her hands tiny with long fingers. With her long hair pulled over one shoulder, I could see her smooth neck and the jut of her chin as she looked around with a teabag on the end of a teaspoon.
“Where’s the bin?” she asked, turning to look at me.
I reached around her and opened up a cupboard door.
“Et voila.” Inside were two trash bins, one grey and one green.
“Oh how cool is that too.” She slapped the teabag into the grey bin. “We’ve just got a boring pedal bin at home. I tell you, Beth really needs to see this place.”
“You could come over one weekend, with Beth and the boys. If you like.”
What the hell was happening to me? The Grantley James from two weeks ago would never have invited her over, never mind a couple of kids and their single mom. But the Grantley James from two weeks ago hadn’t met Phoebe Drinkwater.
“Oh I don’t know about that,” she replied, with a tinkling laugh. “I’m not sure you’d like the noise the boys would make with that piano.”
“Well, maybe we could all do something,” I heard myself saying. “I hear there’s a couple of great museums in the city.”
She looked at me and nodded. “That sounds good. So, Barney has a girlfriend close by?”
And that was the subject changed.
“Oh my goodness,” Phoebe sighed, rubbing her stomach. “That was amazing.”
“You’ve still got your caramel ice-cream cheesecake to eat.”
“My what?”
She screwed up her little nose and furrowed her brow.
“Caramel ice-cream cheesecake.”
“You mean ca-ra-mel,” she giggled.
“That’s what I said, caramel.”
“No, you said carmel. You left the second ‘a’ out.”
“No I said it correctly. You’re the one who said it wrong.”
I leaned back in my chair, watching her closely. God damn she was pretty.
“You Americans say everything weird,” she muttered, taking a sip of her wine.
“I think you’ll find you’re the ones who can’t pronounce words properly.”
“Okay, look at the way you say route.”
“Route.” I corrected her.
“It’s not spelt r.o.w.t. There’s an oo in the middle.”
“You know you’re wrong.” A smile flickered at my lips at the horrified look on her face.
“No, I’m not. It is called the English language or have you forgotten that?”
“Nope, but doesn’t mean you say it right.”
“Yes we do. Seriously Grantley, I have no idea how you can think leverage should be pronounced levaridge. Ridiculous.”
She really did look pissed and I wanted to laugh. She had her hands thrown in the air and her voice had a real tone of despair.
“Tomayto, tomahto,” I replied with a grin. “Who cares?”
Phoebe’s eyes narrowed on me as she smiled. “You’re so annoying.”
“Yep, I know. Now, do you want your carmel ice-cream cheesecake?”
“No thank you,” she said haughtily. “But I will have my caramel ice-cream cheesecake.”
I shook my head and rolled my eyes.
“Whatever.”
With a chuckle, I got up and went into the kitchen to retrieve our desserts from the refrigerator. When I opened it up, I noticed another bottle of wine in there and decided that a couple more glasses each wouldn’t hurt. I had to be up fairly early for the drive to the location shoot, but I could sleep in the car if necessary. Managing both desserts in one hand, I picked up the wine with the other.
“Here you go,” I placed the plates on the table. “It looks pretty good.”
“Wow, look at you,” Phoebe said, sitting back in her chair and pointing at me. “Were you a waiter in a past life?”
“Actually, yeah. I waited tables for a summer when I first got to LA.”
“Really? Was it a nice restaurant?”
I laughed out loud and shook my head. “God no. It was a crummy backstreet diner, but they made the best pancakes around and it was close to Fox studios, so producers and directors were always coming in.”
“So you gave them your best customer service?” Phoebe asked with a smile.
“But of course.” I tilted my head and winked at her.
“And did it work?”
I burst out laughing. “Like hell it did. Every damn waiter, barman, and store clerk in LA is an actor looking for a break, so they were pretty adapt at ignoring me. I did meet Marcia there though. After she relocated from New York.”
“It was definitely worth it then.”
“I guess so. She got me where I am today. I owe her a lot.”
I sighed, thinking back to how many free breakfasts I had to give Marcia before she’d even agree to talk to me. She’d been a hard nut to crack, but she�
��d been behind me all the way since then.
“What made you want to be an actor?” Phoebe asked, pushing her cheesecake around her plate with a dessert fork. “I have to admit, I Googled you and it said you were a promising baseball star at High School, but gave it up when you were sixteen.”
I cringed inwardly, wondering what else she’d read about me. It wasn’t a secret Sue-Ann had raised me alone and that we didn’t get along, but me and Marcia had worked hard to be sure no one knew how bad my life had been with her. Yeah, it may have made a great story, but I didn’t want every interview I did to be about me overcoming adversity to make it big. I just wanted to be asked about my acting.
“I always liked the idea of acting,” I finally said. “I just thought I’d get more girls by playing baseball.”
Phoebe rolled her eyes. “Why does that not surprise me?”
“What does that mean?” I asked, nudging her leg with my foot.
“Well, you’re a bit of ladies’ man aren’t you?”
She forked a small amount of cheesecake and popped it into her mouth. Her lips closed around it and she momentarily closed her eyes, obviously savoring the taste.
“Good?” I asked.
“Hmm.” She nodded and grinned around the fork. “Delicious. Anyway, stop avoiding my question.”
“Didn’t realize it was a question,” I retorted, knowing that’s exactly what it was. “I thought you were making a statement.”
“Well whatever, you are a ladies man. At least I think you are.”
“And I think your accusations are unfounded, Miss Drinkwater. Do you ever see me in the media with lots of different women?”
She thought about it, twirling her fork around in the air. “Hmm, now you mention it, no not really.”
I tipped my glass to her. “There you go. I’ve had two serious girlfriends in the last five years. Before that, I admit I was a serial dater, but there wasn’t always sex involved.”
Phoebe’s cheeks pinked and she quickly looked back down at her dessert. Shit, was she a fucking virgin? Or was she just one of those uptight Brits?
“You want to change the subject?” I asked around a laugh.