Dazzled

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

Love Actually

  Miles

  I was so amped up I could barely remember my own name.

  Not about the premiere, about seeing Clare.

  I had to make this right between us. I felt sick at the thought of losing my best friend just because I’d been a stupid, selfish, navel-gazing dickhead. I was relieved when mum told me that Clare would definitely be attending the premiere, because it wouldn’t have surprised me if she’d refused to go.

  Then it occurred to me that she probably wouldn’t have anything to wear, so maybe that was a way back – a peace offering.

  I got Honey to phone Natalia Da Silva, and she used her contacts to get something special for Clare. I’d had three dresses sent to my suite at the Dorchester, and had picked the dark green one. Then I had it couriered to her house. I hoped she might send me a text when she got it, but I heard nothing.

  Of course, I was too dumb to get rid of the surplus dresses quickly. That was an interesting conversation when my mum saw them.

  “Oh, love! Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I frowned at her.

  “Tell you what?”

  “Not that it matters. I’ll love you whatever you do.”

  “Thanks, mum. Any particular reason you’re telling me this now?”

  “Well, I don’t think magenta is your color, love.”

  “What?”

  “You know. Your, er, dress.”

  What?

  “Bloody hell, mum! Those dresses aren’t for me! I got them for Clare.”

  The relief on her face was more than a little apparent.

  “Oh. Oh, well that’s alright then. I just thought, you know, now you’re a proper actor…”

  “Yeah, thanks, mum. Please stop talking.”

  “Don’t you be cheeky!”

  “Whatever.”

  “Mind your lip! And while I’m at it, have you planned what you’re going to say to Clare?”

  “Other than ‘sorry’. Not really.”

  “For goodness sake, Miles! You need to come up with something better than that. Can’t you, you know, act it or something?”

  “Yeah, well, I need a script for that, and I don’t think that would work with Clare.”

  She sighed. “No, probably not. Just sort it out, will you. I hate seeing you both so miserable.”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “Of course it is, love. I’m your mother.”

  The screaming crowd, followed by the walk up the red carpet, had been a real head spin, but it was worth it just to see Clare waiting for me, looking really fucking hot. I’d definitely picked the right dress.

  And then the moment, the very fucking second that we started talking, I heard the crowd booing Lilia.

  I couldn’t leave her to deal with that by herself – it was a mob out there, and they sounded like they were out for her blood. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Whatever they’d done. Or whoever they’d done. And I hadn’t forgotten how gut-wrenchingly horrible it had felt the first time I’d gone on Ellen, and the audience had yelled things at me.

  But once I’d got Lilia inside the cinema, the producers were all over us like a rash. I suppose they were just happy to see us in the same room without lobbing rotten fruit at each other.

  Lilia disappeared to the bathroom, and before I could get back to Clare, Donald Hyde grabbed my arm.

  “Goddamn freakin’ masterstroke, Miles! You couldn’t have planned it better.”

  “I didn’t plan it at all.”

  “No, sure, sure, but it’ll play real well. The fans loved it!”

  I wrenched my arm free, trying to calm the fuck down before I did something he’d regret.

  “Is that all you care about? Why on earth wasn’t there more security? It could have turned really nasty out there – nastier.”

  He waved a hand.

  “I’ll deal, don’t sweat it. Look, kid, enjoy tonight, and we’ll talk about the sequel when you get back to LA.”

  “The what?”

  But he was already sliding away, oily bastard that he was, and then I heard Lilia’s soft voice behind me.

  “Miles. Darling, can we talk?”

  I was aware that people were staring and hoping to eavesdrop on our conversation, but more than that, I really didn’t want to talk to her.

  “There’s nothing to say, Lilia.”

  “Please, Miles. Just a minute, please? I can’t… not here… Please?”

  I should have been expecting this, but for some reason I thought she’d just ignore me, or pretend nothing had happened.

  Ah hell. “Fine. You can have one minute.”

  She pouted. I used to find that hot.

  “Somewhere private,” she whispered. “Everyone’s watching us.”

  Against my better judgment, but curious as to what the hell she could possibly say, I let her lead me to a small room next to the cinema’s booking office.

  I leaned against the desk, and she closed the door behind her.

  “You look good,” she said, with a small smile. “But then again you always did. Right from that first day.”

  Seriously? She wanted to do small talk?

  “Just say what you’ve got to say, Lilia.”

  “Don’t be angry with me, Miles,” she gasped, her voice breaking.

  God, I hated it when women cried. It always made me feel like such a shit.

  “I’m not angry – now,” I replied, watching as she bit her lip. “I just don’t particularly want to talk to you.”

  She took a step closer.

  “I’m sorry about what happened. I… I love you.”

  “I doubt that very fucking much, Lilia. You don’t fucking cheat on someone you love.”

  A sob escaped her chest, and she dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.

  I tried really hard not to care what she said, but I kept seeing the images of her with Joe Blow. I closed my eyes, but the pictures were still there.

  “Miles? Please, baby?”

  “Why? Why did you do it?” I couldn’t help the words spilling out. “Were you… with him… the whole time we were together?”

  “No, of course not!” she cried, even managing to sound upset. “I… I was drunk… It was just that once.”

  I studied her face. She seemed so sincere. If nothing else, Lilia was a brilliant actress. She’d win an Oscar some day.

  “And the woman – the other guy? Was that just once, as well? Are there any other ‘just one times’ that you want to tell me about?”

  “You’re being hateful!”

  She was crazy if she thought I’d feel bad about saying that. And she hadn’t answered my question.

  “How can I believe a word you’re saying?”

  “It’s true, Miles. I promise.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t believe you.”

  “Then what can I say? What can I do to make it right?”

  Her voice was pleading, but there was a hint of calculation in her eyes, and I remembered that Clare had never liked her – or trusted her.

  “That first evening, when we went to the Metron Awards… do you remember that?”

  “Of course,” she smiled, relaxing a little. “You were so nervous.” She giggled, and placed a quick kiss on my cheek.

  I leaned away from her touch, and she looked irritated. Well, screw her! We were going to finish this conversation she’d been so desperate to start.

  “And do you remember when I saw… when I saw him with that woman in the men’s bathroom.”

  “Oh,” she said, softly, lowering her eyes.

  “How did you know?”

  She looked up and frowned.

  “How did I know what?”

  “You said, He does that. It’s his thing. But how did you know? Unless you already…”

  I couldn’t finish the sentence because I was afraid I’d vomit.

  There was a long, heavy silence.

  “You don’t know what it’s like,” she said at last, her voice crisper, harder.

&
nbsp; “What? What are you talking about?”

  “The business!” she snarled, all pretence falling away, all acting finished. “You don’t know what it’s like!”

  I stared at her in disbelief. “I think I’ve got a pretty fucking good idea!”

  She snorted.

  “You’ve done it for eight months. You’ve been a star for just a few weeks.”

  The bitch actually used air quotes when she said ‘star’.

  “Do you really think you know how it works? I’ve been in this business since I was seven years old. Seven! Have you any idea how difficult it is for a child star to be taken seriously? To win real, adult roles? Do you think anyone actually cares about you? Because they don’t. It’s all about money. It’s all about who you know.”

  “So, you just thought… what? Give some head to get ahead?”

  “You bastard!”

  “Yeah? Well, I took you seriously, Lilia. I cared about you! But that wasn’t important. You just ripped my fucking heart out like it was worthless, like it meant nothing.”

  I was struggling to get the words out, and I tugged roughly at my bow tie before I managed to undo it and loosen a few buttons on my shirt, allowing air into my lungs.

  “I’ve had hate mail,” she said quietly, her lip trembling.

  “Yeah?” I said, harshly. “It’s probably from my mum.”

  “Miles, please.”

  “Please what, Lilia? What do you want from me?”

  She took another step closer, and her hand drifted down my arm, coming to a rest on my waistband.

  I flicked her hand away.

  “Can’t we be friends?” she pleaded.

  “No. I’ve got all the friends I need.”

  “Like Clare!” she hissed, her face twisting with an ugly sneer.

  “What the fuck has Clare got to do with anything?”

  “She was always there – always in the way!”

  I couldn’t believe she was spouting this shit.

  “We went to that fucking premiere together, Lilia. You and me. Remember? You offered to blow me in the limo. Maybe you remember that, or were you confusing me with him already? You left the party without a word. You got high. You got laid. I wasn’t there. Your responsibility, Lilia. No one else’s.”

  I was so finished with that conversation. I brushed past her and got the fuck out of the room.

  As I walked back to the party, my heart was racing and anger was firing jets of fury through my veins. I took several deep breaths and tried to look like I wasn’t about to smash something or hit someone.

  Clare was talking to mum and Polly, and I felt better seeing her there, calm and assured as ever. She pushed her hand through her hair and another wave of sudden anger washed over me. She wasn’t wearing the bracelet I’d given her.

  And then I realized what had happened.

  She hadn’t wanted to come tonight. In all likelihood mum had talked her into it. A sick, hollow feeling squeezed my heart. How had I let this happen? And, more importantly, could I make it right?

  I walked up to mum, trying to smile.

  Clare’s eyes narrowed as she looked at me. Then she turned her back. My smile died on my face and I was going to say something to her but mum grabbed my arm.

  “Let me fix your bow tie,” she said, tugging me toward her. “You look a mess. And you have lipstick on your cheek,” she hissed, scrubbing furiously at my face with a tissue.

  Before I had a chance to say anything, Hyde stood up to give a quick speech, thanking everyone on some ridiculously long list, including God, and then we were all ushered into the theater. Mum was sitting next to me, and Jo-Anne was on my other side, with Lilia next to her. I couldn’t see where Clare was sitting and I slumped down in my seat, knowing it would be another two hours before I could talk to her.

  I sat through that fucking movie, hating every minute of it.

  I was amused and embarrassed when the sex scene came on, and mum watched it through her fingers.

  “That’s not something I ever wanted to see,” she whispered. “I saw enough of your backside when you were a baby!”

  “Didn’t mean anything,” I muttered.

  Although that wasn’t strictly true: at the time, Lilia and I had been together. That was one of the things that had made filming that scene so hard. Probably what had made me so hard that day. Now, the thought left me cold.

  I wondered what Hyde had meant about a sequel. As far as I knew, Laura Dorien hadn’t written a second book, although that didn’t mean much in Hollywood. Fuck! I realized I’d better get Melody or Rhonda to check my contract – I might have signed up for a sequel without knowing it. That would just be my fucking luck.

  I was glad mum’s house purchase was going through. If the studio sued the pants off me for breach of contract – refusing do a sequel – she’d be protected.

  The theater lights came back on and I was only vaguely aware of the applause. Mum was crying and hugging me, and people were standing up wanting to shake my hand, but I was looking for Clare. I couldn’t see her through the crowds of people who surrounded me.

  Lilia caught my eye, and gave me a small, hopeful smile.

  Shit. She just didn’t give up.

  The premiere party was being held in the Palm Court of the Langham Hotel, near Regent’s Park. You know, palm trees, piano and harpist, Gothic charm that film studios loved. Whatever.

  Everyone wanted to stop and talk and smile – except I still couldn’t see Clare.

  After an hour of smiling and being polite – and avoiding Lilia at every turn – I’d had enough. Even mum, who loved a good party, had already left, complaining that her new shoes hurt her feet.

  I craned my neck, trying to find anyone that looked green, well, wearing green. Luckily, I spotted Polly and strolled over. Wow. Orange was not her color.

  She was pasted, and when she wrapped her arms around me and started crying and warbling on about pretty babies and cherubs, I smiled my first real smile for hours.

  “Pol, put a lid on the waterworks! Have you seen, Clare?”

  “She went home, but I’ll keep you company.”

  “Home?”

  Clare had gone. Again.

  Shit.

  This time, I didn’t hesitate. I got my arse out of there and grabbed the first taxi I could find.

  It took ten minutes to get to Clare’s house. Ten damn minutes too long.

  I thumped on the door and rang the bell.

  Clare

  Mum and dad were out at Aunt Paula’s party, so I had the house to myself.

  I was glad of that, because I wanted to wallow. Preferably with chocolate. I got lucky when I found a Black Forest gateau that mum had bought to celebrate with Prue, and proceeded to stuff my face. I ate well over half of it. A generous half. The kind of half that a miserable sod might call three-quarters. Whatever. I felt full and nauseous. All I needed now was a sappy love story on the TV, and I was all set for a classic wallow in the time honored tradition.

  The evening had been a complete and utter nightmare. From the moment Lilia had arrived, everything had gone wrong. And then she’d dragged him off to her lair, and when he came out again his shirt and tie were undone, and he had lipstick on his cheek. It was soooo obvious what they’d been doing. Especially when she followed him out, a smug smile pasted across her ugly trout pout.

  She’d told me she’d get him back – it looked as though she was right. I really didn’t think he would have succumbed that quickly. I hated being proved wrong.

  So I was as irritated as all hell when some bastard rang the bell and knocked on the door.

  The last person I expected to see was Miles waiting on the other side, looking ridiculously beautiful and debonair in his tailor-made tux.

  I, on the other hand, had changed into sweatpants and an old t-shirt. One of his. Oh, and I had crumbs down my cleavage.

  The cold air rushed in as I stood in the hallway, my mouth open more widely than the front door.
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br />   “You left,” he said.

  “You were busy.”

  He frowned. “Can I come in?”

  “If you want.”

  I let the door hang open, then turned my back and headed into the warmth of the cozy living room.

  I heard him close the front door and follow me inside. It had been a long time since we’d been in this house together.

  He stood awkwardly while I gestured for him to come in, my eyes fixed on the TV.

  After a moment’s hesitation, he pushed the living room door shut and hovered near one of the armchairs. We were alone together at last.

  “I missed you,” he said, softly.

  And I didn’t know if he meant tonight, or the last few days.

  I folded my arms tightly in front of me and tried to smile.

  “Yeah, me, too.”

  He rubbed his head as if it ached, and took a step toward me.

  I backed away, knowing that I’d crumble if I let him touch me. And I couldn’t go back to living like that.

  He looked hurt and bewildered as I moved to the other side of the room, and slumped down onto the couch.

  “You didn’t wear your bracelet,” he said, quietly.

  “What?”

  The pain in his voice tore my eyes away from the TV screen that I was pretending to watch.

  “The bracelet I gave you – you’re not wearing it.”

  “Oh…”

  I couldn’t meet his eyes.

  “Clare, I know I’ve been an idiot…”

  “Yeah, you have. But that’s okay, I’m used to it.”

  I was letting him off the hook, and he knew it. He gave a small smile.

  “Around you I just seem to open my mouth to change feet,” he agreed.

  There was an awkward silence. We’d never been uncomfortable sharing the same space, but everything had changed.

  “So,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets, “how’ve you been?”

  “Bloody hell, Miles! You make it sound like you haven’t seen me for a year. I saw you a couple of hours ago.”

  “Feels longer.”

  True.

  When I didn’t respond, he sighed heavily and went to lean against the wall by the window, staring at the wintry street outside.

  I fiddled nervously with the hem of my… his… my t-shirt.

  I didn’t want him here.

  Except I did. And I didn’t.