by Nikki Ashton
“Night Phoe-.”
That was it, the line went dead. With a frown, I dropped my cell onto the bed and went to my closet for a pair of jeans and a light sweater, cursing Francesca the whole time for spoiling my night.
Phoebe
I barely slept the night before, thinking of Grantley and Francesca. I’d heard their conversation at the door and it was evident that she’d had sex with him, if her comments about already seeing him naked were anything to go by. I knew they hadn’t done their sex scene yet, so that wasn’t how she’d gained knowledge of it. No, they must have had sex before and now they were on location staying in the same house, probably in rooms next door – or maybe even in the same room. And he’d called her Frannie. I’d only ever heard her called Francesca, but Grantley had a pet name for her, just like he called me Phoebes.
God, I hated feeling like this – sick with jealousy and all knotted up inside. It wasn’t me. I didn’t allow men to get to my heart and make me vulnerable. I’d seen the pain Beth had gone through and didn’t want that for myself. No, men just weren’t allowed in; until Grantley. He’d wormed his way in there. God, I was such an amateur at being a cold-hearted bitch. I was a very poor three out of ten at keeping my heart locked up, or was it simply I’d never met anyone who I’d wanted to get to my heart before – until Grantley.
All in all, it had been a shitty night, followed by an even shittier morning. Declan was being as hateful as he’d been a few days earlier. He’d been throwing barbed comments out at me all morning and when there was a break in filming, he felt it necessary to share his disdain of me with Jack and Peter- two other extras who were supposed to be two businessmen having lunch on the next table. Then to top it all, Declan continued his pecking at my head over our lunch break.
“Don’t you just hate people who use who they’re sleeping with to get better parts?” he asked Jack.
“It didn’t work for me, Declan,” Jack replied with a laugh.
“Who was that then?” Peter asked, weirdly taking a sip of the cold tea that was supposed to be a pint of beer.
“Why have you brought that with you?” I asked, pointing at the murky liquid. “You do know the lunch truck has refreshments.”
Peter nodded. “Yeah, but I like this. Anyway Jack, tell us who you sold your body to for a part you didn’t get.”
“The game show host,” Jack declared. “He promised me a part in a new sitcom he was writing.”
“Oh no,” I groaned. “Who got it instead?”
“Would you believe, Whoopi Goldberg?”
Peter and I exchanged glances, words unspoken as we looked back at the freckled faced, ginger haired Jack.
“I know right,” Jack said, with a knowing nod of his head. “Thankfully, it never made it to TV. According to the reviews from the rushes, Goldberg just didn’t cut it as a gay, English man.”
“Excuse me,” Declan said, holding up a palm. “But you don’t quite understand what I’m saying.”
“Yes we do,” Peter said. “Never shag a bloke for a part unless you get it in writing first.”
I burst out laughing at the exact moment I began to chew on a piece of chicken. As I laughed, I took in air that caught in the back of my throat at the exact same time as my piece of chicken, and it caused me to have a coughing fit.
“Shit, take a drink of water,” Jack said, passing a glass to me. “Don’t die on us, love. Are you okay?”
“Yep,” I croaked, before taking a swig from the glass.
“It’s that bloody chicken, it’s far too chewy,” Peter complained, shoving his food around his plate and peering down to inspect it.
“That’s why I had the beef,” Jack added, patting me on the back. “Better?”
I nodded, took another sip of water, and croaked out a ‘yes’.
“Are you sure that’s beef?” Peter asked. “It’s a bit grey to be beef.”
“Yes, it’s beef. At least it said it was beef on the chalkboard.”
“You’re still not getting my point,” Declan complained.
I sighed heavily, deciding I’d had enough of his bitching. “Listen, Declan,” I said looking up at him.
“What?”
Every word that I wanted to say slipped from my mind. I was blank, because hanging in Declan’s wiry black beard was my piece of chicken. I shot a look at Peter, who seeing my widened eyes guessed something was wrong. He turned to Declan and as soon as his eyes landed on him, a huge smile enveloped his face.
“Declan-.” I started, before feeling a sharp kick to my shin as Peter cleared his throat, and gave a short shake of his head.
“Phoebe, what is it?” Declan was irritated.
I shook my head, declining to answer.
“I’ll tell you something,” Peter said with a grin. “This chicken is so chewy I’m sure it could bounce right off the plate.”
Declan huffed and pushed his plate to one side. “You people are so…”
“So what?” Jack asked, looking up from his beef. “Oh shit, right.” He’d spotted the piece of errant chicken and started to laugh.
Declan scraped his chair back and stood up, looking down on the three of us, while chicken still dangled from his beard.
“I’m going to the green room for ten minutes meditation. I feel my stress levels rising.”
“You do that,” Jack called after his disappearing back. “And maybe have a little snack while you’re there. You know, keep your energy levels up.”
“Yeah,” Peter added. “I highly recommend the chewy chicken.”
I couldn’t stop laughing as Declan gave a disdainful look over his shoulder and disappeared.
“You two are terrible. You should have let me tell him.”
“No way,” Peter replied. “He’s a tosser, he deserves it.”
“Yeah, he does,” Jack added. “Now, tell us who you slept with that’s got his undies in a twist.”
The rest of the day went by without another word from Declan. I wasn’t sure whether Jack or Peter had warned him to be quiet, but he didn’t speak a single utterance to any of us. Even when the director asked us to be more animated and actually look like we were having a conversation, all Declan said to me was ‘blah, blah, blah’. He threw a few dirty looks my way, and Peter and Jack’s way too, but no words - plus his beard was clean too, so it was a huge relief all around. I’d explained everything to Peter and Jack and swore on the spirit of Sir Alan Rickman that I hadn’t actually slept with Grantley. I admit, I left out the part about the kiss in his hotel suite, but that was more an omission of the facts than a lie, so Sir Alan could rest in peace.
So after what had been a crap day, finally, I was home and walking into the hallway with a huge sigh of relief.
“Hi,” I cried. “I’m home.”
“In the kitchen,” Beth cried. “Opening wine. The boys have gone to their friend, Toby’s house for a sleepover.”
I entered the kitchen, shrugged off my coat, dumped it on a chair with my bag and grabbed a glass from Beth’s hand.
“Oh God, thank you,” I said, closing my eyes as I sipped the cool, crisp wine. “I’ve had to sit opposite Declan and pretend I like his company all bloody day.”
“Ooh,” Beth groaned. “Nasty.”
“I know. He’s been a total dick. Dropping hints about me sleeping with Grantley, just so I could get three sodding lines.”
“Shit. Have you slept with him?” Beth’s mouth dropped open as she plonked down onto a chair.
“No. You know I haven’t.”
“I know no such thing,” she protested. “I know he brought you home at almost midnight the other night, after spending the evening in his suite.”
“Yes, and I told you that we kissed. So, you know I’d tell you if I’d had sex with him.”
“Would you?”
“Yes!” I cried and then belched. “Oops sorry, I’ve been drinking warm apple juice all day. And again, yes, of course I’d tell you.”
“If you do have se
x, you will be careful, won’t you?”
I slapped at Beth’s arm, shocked at her suggestion. I’d always been super careful when having sex. I loved kids, but didn’t want one with someone I wasn’t going to spend the rest of my life with and I certainly didn’t want any nasty diseases, thank you very much.
“I always use condoms, as well as being on the pill.”
Beth rolled her eyes. “I didn’t mean take physical care of yourself, although that’s a given. I meant I want you to take care of yourself mentally. I don’t want you to end up with a broken heart.”
My mind warped back to the conversation I’d heard between Grantley and Francesca and how I’d felt all day because of it.
“I think it’s too late to take mental care of myself,” I sighed.
Beth reached out a hand and rubbed my forearm. “You’ve really fallen for him, after one kiss?”
“Yeah, but it was one hell of a kiss.”
“Well he is Addison Yates, I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
She giggled and drank more of her wine before we fell into silence, me contemplating the stem of my wine glass and Beth looking through the kitchen window, to the darkening sky.
After a few minutes, I glanced at my sister, to see her pretty face was masked with worry and I hated that she was feeling that way. Whether it was the boys, herself, or even me that had put that look there, I didn’t care. I was supposed to be making sure she didn’t have any stress while we waited for her results.
“Beth,” I whispered. “Please don’t worry. Everything is going to be okay. I know it is.”
She looked at me with tear filled eyes and let out a long breath. “What if it isn’t Phoebes? What if I have cancer and they can’t cure it? What happens to my babies?”
“Firstly, you’re not going to have it and secondly nothing will happen to them.”
“If I die, you do not let Steven get them. Promise me.” She wagged a finger at me as the tears now started to trickle down her cheeks. “You have to fight to keep them, and please don’t let Mum and Dad have them because, ugh, that would be worse.”
“You don’t even have to ask that,” I replied, feeling a huge rock of pain in my chest. “I will always take care of them. He’d never get them, neither would Mum and Dad. Even if I had to leave the country and give us all false identities.”
She giggled through her tears and caught hold of my hand. “You really would do that, wouldn’t you?”
I nodded and shrugged my shoulders as though it was a given.
“But what if you’re not here?” she asked. “What if you and Grantley fall in love and he takes you to live in Hollywood? What happens then?”
“Do you actually think I’d go if you were ill? And that’s not likely to happen, anyway.”
“What?” she asked. “You falling in love with him, or him taking you to live in Hollywood?” Her smile was soft and gentle and I had to wonder, as I had a thousand, million times, how Steven could have left her.
“Both,” I replied.
“Really, you don’t think it’s likely that you’ll fall in love with him?”
I wanted to say I wouldn’t, that it would never happen, but for some reason my tongue was suddenly too big for my mouth and I couldn’t form the words. What the hell was happening to me? Why couldn’t I just say ‘no, I will not fall in love with Grantley James’?
“Because you know you probably will.”
“Shit,” I groaned. “Did I say that out loud?”
“Yep, you did.”
“Oh fuck.”
“Yeah,” Beth said with a grin. “Oh fuck.”
“I can’t, Beth,” I protested. “You’re not to let me. I’ll be right in the shit if I do. He lives in America and I’m pretty sure he’s had, or is having sex with Francesca Woodfield.”
“But he kissed you.”
“I know.” I chewed on my lip, hoping drawing some blood might stop me thinking about the sickie feeling in my stomach.
“So is he definitely sleeping with her now?” Beth’s eyes were now wild with anger, as she gulped back the rest of her wine and reached for the bottle. “He kissed you and is shagging someone else?”
“I don’t know for certain, it’s just what I overheard.”
I recanted the telephone conversation I’d had with Grantley and what I’d heard when I was holding on the line. I told her and then kind of wished I hadn’t, because it made me feel even more jealous, if that was possible.
When I finished, Beth looked at me, perplexed.
“That doesn’t prove anything. She might have meant she’d seen him with no top on, or didn’t he do one of those Men’s Health, take care of your bollocks, ad campaigns?”
My memory flicked through everything I’d read about Grantley, but I didn’t recall a naked photo-shoot of him cupping his balls, or anything like that.
“I don’t think so.”
“Well there may be an explanation for what she said. Don’t jump the gun until you’ve asked him.”
I almost spat out my wine. “Ask him? You have got to be joking? No way, that makes me sound even more stalkerish than Kathy Bates in Misery. Nope, I’ll just keep my distance.”
“But he might not be sleeping with her, which then means you’ll miss out on sleeping with him and I’m sure you don’t want to risk that. I mean,” she said with a deep breath, “what if he’s really, really good.”
I thought back, to seeing the outline of his dick in his sweat pants and how big and hard he felt in his jeans when he kissed me. Shit, she was right. What if I gave the possibility of that up, just because he wasn’t a virgin and may have entered Francesca’s tower with his magic sword.
“Hang on a minute,” I cried. “How did we get from talking about the boys’ future, to my possible future sex life in a matter of sentences?”
Beth shrugged. “Dunno, we’re just good I guess. Anyway, whether you like it or not, you fancy him like mad. You could possibly end up falling in love with him, so you have no alternative but to ask him what’s going on with not only you two, but him and Francesca as well.”
“I really don’t think he thinks of me that way.”
Just then a text beeped on my mobile. I glanced down and saw it was from Grantley. Snatching up my phone, I swiped the screen to read it.
Grantley: Hi pretty girl. Just wanted to check in and say I’m looking forward to seeing you on Thursday – G x
I couldn’t help but smile, even if he was having sex with Francesca, he still made me want to grin and sing Donny Osmond songs – hey don’t judge me, my mum loved him and played his stuff non-stop when we were kids. They were my formative years and she ruined me musically, what can I say.
“Is that him?”
Beth evidently hadn’t missed the soppy look on my face either.
“Yes.” I turned the phone to show her the text.
She grabbed it off me and shoved it closer to her face. Then before I had chance to realise what she was doing, she shot up from her chair rushed into the downstairs loo and locked the door.
“Beth!” I roared. “What are you doing? Please don’t tell me you’re texting him back.”
Silence.
“Beth, I mean it. If you’re doing what I think you’re doing, I’ll kill you.”
The lock clicked open and Beth came out of the loo with a big grin on her face.
“You can thank me by telling me how good he is in bed, when the time comes.”
She dropped the phone into my hand and sauntered back into the kitchen.
“What have you done?” I groaned, bringing the screen to life. “Oh for fuck’s sake, Beth.”
Phoebe: Hi. I’m fine. Thank you handsome, but tell me, are you shagging Francesca Woodfield?
“BETH!”
Grantley
“What the fuck?” I stared down at my cell, reading the text that Phoebe had sent to me.
Was I sleeping with Francesca? Where the hell had she got that idea from? Why the hell d
id it concern her?
Okay, scratch that last one, I guess when you’ve almost got someone off with a kiss it kind of is their concern if you’re sleeping with someone else, but why she’d ask me that, I had no fucking clue. I dialed Phoebe’s number – this wasn’t something we could discuss by text. It rang a couple of times and then went to voicemail.
“You’ve reached Phoebe’s phone, sorry I can’t answer, but leave your number and I’ll call you back… maybe.” She ended the message with a giggle, which for some reason wound me even tighter.
“Phoebe, I think we need to talk.”
I hung up and looked down at my phone. Maybe I should have said more than that, it might sound like I had something I needed to tell her – like ‘yes I have slept with Francesca, but I need to tell you personally.’
I dialed her number again, but this time it went straight to voicemail – she’d damn well dropped my call. Okay, a text it was then.
Grantley: Phoebe answer your phone.
I waited a couple of minutes and tried again, but once more it went straight to voicemail.
Grantley: I mean it Phoebe. Answer your fucking phone this time. I want to talk to you, not fucking text.
I dialed her number and waited, fully expecting her to answer, but once again the little minx dropped it. I was slowly losing patience and wondering whether one damn kiss was worth all the hassle. But I guess the fact that I was desperate to get ahold of her and put her ridiculous notion to bed, kind of told me it was.
Grantley: I’m seriously pissed now, Phoebe. I’m going to call one more time and if you don’t answer your god damn phone, I will not be responsible for my actions when we get back on set.
I dialed her number again and waited, my fingers drumming on the arm of the chair I was sitting in. Finally, I heard her breathing on the other end of the line.
“What the hell makes you think I’m sleeping with Francesca?” I went straight in there, no need for the formalities.