by Nikki Ashton
“I-I. It wasn’t me,” she replied tentatively.
I sighed. “What wasn’t you? What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I didn’t send the text. It was Beth.”
“And why the hell did Beth send the text?”
It was almost silent on the other end, apart from her soft exhales, which were fucking turning me on. I was imagining her lips slightly parted and her chest rising and falling slowly while she blinked those damn long lashes of hers. Fuck, I was fucked beyond fuckdom if just the sound of her thinking got me hard.
An image of Phoebe about to touch herself was pushed from my head as she spoke.
“It was my fault. I told her that I thought you were sleeping with Francesca.” Her words were rushed and while I couldn’t see her face, I knew it would be red with embarrassment.
“Why would you think that, pretty girl?”
I let out a breath, wishing that we didn’t have one more day shooting at the Mill House. I didn’t know what this girl had done to me, but she made me feel all kinds of soppy shit.
“I heard her when we spoke on the phone the other night. It sounded like she knows what you look like naked and you called her Frannie.”
I furrowed my brow, wondering what the hell she was talking about.
“That’s her name.”
“Her name is Francesca, but you called her Frannie, like you…oh shit, I’m being ridiculous. Honestly Grantley, ignore me. I’m being stupid and what you do really is no business of mine. It was one kiss and I have no right to question you.”
“Okay,” I replied. “Firstly, I’ve always called her Frannie, so I’m not sure why that’s upset you, but we’ll come back to that-.”
“Really Grantley, I’m being silly. Please, can we just forget about it?”
“No, we can’t forget about it,” I snapped before softening my tone. “It was obviously important for you to ask, or to at least mention it to Beth. So let me clarify, I’m not and never have slept with Francesca, and it was almost two kisses, but if you’ve forgotten that then I’m obviously losing my fucking touch.”
Phoebe giggled on the other end, causing me to let out a sigh of relief.
Told you, totally fucking fucked from here to fuckdom come.
“I am sorry,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No, you should have asked me.” I pushed up from the chair and walked over to the lounge window, watching Alexi shooting a scene with Francesca and Henrik over by the mill pool. This was a real beautiful place, but I just wanted to be back at the studio. “What you heard,” I continued, “was Francesca flirting with me, because I kind of forgot I was only wearing a towel when I answered the door.”
“How do you forget that?” Phoebe asked incredulously.
I grinned. “Because I was talking to you. You’ve kind of messed with my head a little.”
“Ooh.” She sounded surprised.
“Yeah, I’m a little shocked too.” I paused, waiting for Phoebe to respond, but when she didn’t I continued. “So, is there anything else you want to ask me?”
“Yes, actually there is,” Phoebe replied.
“Okay, go on.”
I held my breath, wondering what she was going to ask. I had nothing to hide from her but if she was going to ask me what my feelings were toward her, well, I wasn’t sure how I was going to answer.
“You say you forgot you had a towel on, but couldn’t you feel how cold your nadgers were when you opened the door?”
Fuck, this girl slayed me.
Phoebe
I don’t think I had ever been so excited to go to work. The sun was shining, my train was on time, it wasn’t packed with sweaty commuters, and Grantley was going to be back on set.
The first few scenes that were being shot didn’t include any extras, so we had to hang around in the holding area. It was boring as hell, but at least I managed to read some more of my book, which also kept me away from Declan. I saw him holding court over at the card table, talking in a loud voice about his two days ‘on the street’, but no one was really very interested in what he had to say. We’d all been on a soap opera a time or two, he was no one special. At least his mum would enjoy seeing him on screen in a few weeks’ time - apparently she invited her sister around to watch every one of Declan’s appearances.
“Hey, you okay?” Trish, one of the other extras asked, sliding into the armchair next to me.
“Oh hi, Trish.” I closed my Kindle and smiled at her, even though I was getting to a good bit and really wanted to finish the chapter. “I’m fine thanks. How about you?”
“Fine, a little bored. I forgot to bring my book with me.” She nodded down at my Kindle. “Yours any good?”
“Yes, really good. So,” I said looking around the room, “it’s a little busy in here today.”
“Yeah, apparently after we’ve done our evacuation of the factory scene, Alexi wants to reshoot the casino scene, so they’ve all had to come back in.”
I nodded in understanding. A lot of directors used the same group of extras for every scene, but because this film had quite a few crowd scenes, Alexi didn’t want the same people to be shown on screen all the time – he liked to think using different extras for different scenes gave the film realism. Says the director of a film where the leading man flies in through a church window on a para glider.
“I heard about Declan, by the way,” Trish said, leaning closer to me. “What he said to you.”
I drew in a breath and rubbed at my forehead, concern washing over me. Was Trish also going to tell me that I was a whore?
“He’s a twat,” she said. “We all think so. No one really thinks you got the three lines because you slept with Grantley James.”
“They don’t?” I asked, looking up at her expectantly.
“No, do they heck. Even if you did, good for you. Who wouldn’t want to ride that pony? I’d have been happy with one word if it meant I got the chance to see whether he lived up to his reputation.”
“Reputation?”
“You know,” she replied, thrusting up her hips manically. “Mister Lova-Lova.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Well I have no idea, we really are just friends.”
“Well if I was just friends with that sexy hunk of a man, I’d be doing everything in my power to make sure he realised exactly how good a friend I could be.” Trish winked at me and pushed up from her chair. “Right, I’m off for a pee. See you later. Oh, looks like you’re being called.”
I looked over to where she was nodding and saw Joey, one of the runners coming towards me
“See you later, Phoebe.” Trish waved at Joey and walked away.
“Hi Joey,” I said, smiling up at him. “You need me on set for something?”
Joey bent down and spoke closely to my ear. “Grantley has asked if you can go to his trailer. He’s in between shooting outside shots.”
I watched Joey carefully, wondering whether he thought the same as Declan about me, seeing as I’d been summoned to Grantley James’ trailer. His face was unreadable though, probably because he had to do this sort of thing a million times a day on film sets.
“Okay, thanks.”
He gave me a shy smile and walked away. Yep, he definitely thought I’d been called for a booty call.
When I got to his trailer, the door was flung open and there at the top of the stairs was the beautiful sight of Grantley James dressed in a slim black suit, with a white open-necked shirt and, swoon upon swoon, he was wearing his glasses.
“Hi,” I said, giving him a huge smile.
“Hey, pretty girl.”
The smile he returned was beautiful, but also a little sad. There was no light in his eyes and his face barely moved a muscle.
Standing to one side, Grantley gave me room to get through the door. As soon as it was shut behind us, I was turned by the shoulders and pulled into his arms. Soft, welcoming lips landed on mine as his hands moved up to thread through
my hair.
It was a quick, intense kiss. Nowhere near as suggestive as the one in his suite, but it was pretty good nonetheless.
“Wow,” I said, leaning my head back to look at him with starry eyes. “That was an amazing welcome.”
“I missed you.”
Grantley dropped his forehead to mine and pursed his lips to kiss the tip of my nose. He didn’t move, but took in a long, slow breath.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” I asked, running a palm down his cheek.
Grantley didn’t say anything but wrapped his arms around my shoulders. My heart thumped wildly as my own arms snaked under his jacket to hug him back. There was little to no space between us, and we were breathing in unison. The room was silent and everything about the moment seemed so much more than it possibly could be. We barely knew each other, he was a Hollywood Star and I was a nobody, we’d had one amazing kiss but standing there holding each other, it felt as though we were two lovers taking comfort from the one person in the world that we knew we could rely on. I wasn’t stupid enough to think it was anything more than Grantley needing a hug for some reason, but I didn’t care because he needed a hug from me.
“Sue-Ann arrived,” he said quietly against my shoulder.
As he said her name, I noticed how his body stiffened. I didn’t blame him, she was a crap mother from what he’d told me, and she made mine seem as protective as Sarah Connor in Terminator.
“It’s been bad then?”
Grantley nodded. “Yep, she’s a fucking nightmare.”
He started to pull away from me and I really wanted to cling on for dear life and keep him there, but that would have been weird. So, when his arms dropped to his sides, I let my own fall too and took a step back.
“Has she done anything particular, or is she just being your mother?”
Grantley let out a humourless laugh. “No, if she was being my mother she’d have Skyped me and asked if I was eating properly, blown me a kiss, and told me she loved me. No, instead she turns up at my hotel at almost midnight, having missed her earlier flight and not telling us, leaving Barney hanging around the airport for almost two hours wondering whether she’d been picked up by Customs and was having a full anal cavity search.”
“Oh dear.” I had no idea what else to say. “So how did she get to the hotel?”
“A fucking taxi that I had to get out of bed and go down and pay for because she had no cash on her. But that wasn’t the best part,” Grantley said, his nostrils flaring. “She comes up to my suite, insists I throw Barney out of his bed, so she could have it and then proceeds to rip the lining of her case and produce two huge fucking bags of coke.”
“Oh shit,” I gasped. “You’re not joking are you?”
Grantley shook his head. “Nope, I’m fucking not. That was the reason for the stopover in Paris. Apparently, she owed a dealer a favor and that was it. Sue-Ann became the mule for probably five-grand worth of cocaine. Small fries I guess, but enough to get her thrown in jail and get me sacked from the franchise.”
“Oh shit.”
“Yeah shit, but do you know what she fucking said when I screamed at her?”
I shook my head.
“If you gave me enough money, I wouldn’t have to do this for a living. Then she called me an ungrateful brat.”
Grantley looked totally broken. His shoulders were sloped and his usual ramrod straight back was hunched over.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, reaching for his hand.
“I fucking hate her, Phoebe. She’s a fucking leech on both me and society and I swear I actually wouldn’t care if she got caught and had to wear orange for the next twenty years. And let me tell you, I for one would not be visiting her.”
“What are you going to do?”
He breathed deeply and pulling his hand from mine, ran it through his hair.
“I made her call the dealer and tell him to meet her first thing this morning – Barney followed her and watched her hand over the backpack. Other than that, I have no idea. I’m hoping Marcia manages to get out of her what she’s doing here, because all she keeps saying to me is ‘can’t a mother visit her child’, which is a fucking joke. She has a reason for being here and as soon as I found out what it is, she’s on the next plane home.”
“Can’t you just give her some money? Didn’t you say she said you don’t give her enough?”
“I asked her how much she wanted, but she said she didn’t want any.”
“You just have to hope Marcia cracks her then.” I chewed on my lip, having no idea what advice or help that I could give to him. “I wish I could help, but I don’t know her to have any idea what her plan is.”
Grantley looked up at me and winced. “Well actually, that’s a favor I was going to ask you.”
“W-what?” I stammered, recognising unease in his eyes. “What can I do?”
“Have dinner with us tonight,” he rushed out, grabbing my hand and pulling on it pleadingly. “She’s insisting that we eat together in the hotel restaurant and she got hold of my phone and saw our texts so is also insisting that you come.”
“How did she get your phone?”
“She took it from my room while I was sleeping.”
My mouth gaped open.
“Yeah,” Grantley said with an eye roll. “She’s a fucking joy. She’s done it before, looking through my contacts for people that she thinks she can fucking get favors from when I’m not around to hand out the ready cash. Unfortunately, she thinks it would be ‘the best thing ever to meet your English chick’.”
“She actually called me that?” I winced.
“Yeah, and I’m so damn sorry. If you don’t come to dinner, she’ll come to the set and I cannot risk that Phoebes. She’ll ruin my fucking career.”
I put my hands to my waist and paced away from him, thinking about Grantley’s request. Would one dinner hurt?
“She does know that we’re just friends doesn’t she?”
Grantley sighed and shook his head. “Phoebe, you know and I know we’re not just fucking friends. I can’t contemplate what the hell we are at the moment, not with having to deal with Sue-Ann, but ‘just friends’ doesn’t fucking cut it.”
With anger seeping from him, Grantley pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
“If you don’t want to do it, fine,” he snapped. “But please don’t start with this shit now.”
“Hey,” I cried. “I have no idea what we are, so don’t you dare shout at me. If I started calling you my boyfriend you’d damn well freak out, so stop being a knob. You tell me what we are Grantley, so I know what to say to your damn mother at dinner.”
Grantley threw his hands in the air. “I have no idea, either. I just know I missed you and needed to hug you and tell you about my fuck up of a mother. That’s all I can give you right now, Phoebe.”
“I haven’t asked for anything.” I threw my arm out at him. “You’re the one who said we aren’t just friends. I’m simply trying to understand what possible reason she could have for wanting me there.”
“I have no clue.” He shrugged. ”Probably just to make me look like a dick, knowing her. It’s like it’s her life’s plan to make my life shit, so if she can put you off me she will.”
“Well isn’t she a piece of work?” I shook my head and blew out my cheeks. “I’ll come to dinner, because you’re my friend, but if she starts on me Grantley, I won’t be responsible for what I say to her.”
“Thank you,” he gasped and once more pulled me into a hug. “Don’t forget what a waste of space she is.”
“I won’t,” I groaned. “Now let me go, before you suffocate me.”
Grantley let me go and grabbed my hand, bringing it to his mouth.
“Thanks for being a good friend, Phoebes. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”
I gave him a small smile and hoped that I didn’t regret it.
Grantley
I couldn’t believe I’d persuaded Phoebe to have dinner wit
h us. In fact I couldn’t believe I’d wanted to persuade her. Introducing her to Sue-Ann was a fucking crazy idea, especially if I wanted us to see more of each other.
My mother wasn’t known for welcoming my dates or girlfriends into the family fold – not that I’d introduced her to that many. Who wanted a woman they liked to know that they came from stock so shit you had seriously considered having a vasectomy to nullify the bloodline? After careful consideration, I hadn’t gone through with it, but that was mostly because I was a pussy. Thinking about having someone touch my dick and nuts for something other than pleasure, made said nuts shrivel up in fear.
Barney was taking Phoebe home to change, and then bringing her back for dinner, leaving me alone in my suite with Sue-Ann, because fucking Marcia had insisted she meet us at dinner. I was damn mad as shit about that idea. I’d asked her to come over to the UK to help me get rid of Sue-Ann, not leave me alone with her. Marcia though, told me to ‘shut the fuck up’ and let her handle it her way. Trouble was, I didn’t see her handling it at all.
I was just finishing getting dressed, tucking my dress shirt into my pants, when Sue-Ann started shouting and banging on my door.
“Grantley, where the hell is the vodka?”
I rolled my eyes and sauntered over to the door, slowly pulling it open.
“What?”
“I asked you, where is the vodka?”
I looked her up and down and shook my head slowly. “Not a chance are you wearing that to dinner.”
The microscopic skirt in a fucking hideous green lace fabric, just barely covered her ass, with her spindly, bruised legs hanging out the bottom like the legs of a fucking baby bird hanging out of a nest. The top half of her outfit wasn’t much better. I had no idea what you called it but it looked like a scarf that she’d wrapped around her chest and then wound and tied it around her neck. The fact that gravity was playing a big part in things, meant it looked less than desirable.
“What the hell’s wrong with it?” she cried, looking down at her body.