by G J Morgan
“I’ll need to ring my mum. Tell her the situation.”
“Fine. You check in with the Mommy.”
He looked at me, a mad grin, folding more meat into his mouth, stuffing himself like a king.
“It’s gonna be an interesting couple of months, Mr Tommy Smyth. You ready?”
“I’m ready.”
“Good man. We need to be on point with this.”
“We? Sounds like it will just be me.”
“Hey, I’ll be involved, don’t you worry. Now let’s talk some more about the target.”
“I’m not calling her the target.”
“LG, then. That’s what she’s getting called these days.”
“Initials. How 21st century.”
“Initials is good Tommy. Means she’s getting more famous,” he said, raising his glass to another salute.
* * *
Fast-forward a few hours and I was on a fold-out sofa. Vince was spreadeagled in nothing but socks, at least I still had on my clothes, wished I had a toothbrush to get rid of the liquor taste.
Tonight was pointless. We didn’t even talk much about the girl, we briefly talked long camera lenses, but it was too technical for such a late hour, so millimetre discussions would spill over to tomorrow. For the most part, Vince turned to flirting with married waitresses, and like me they played along, long enough to keep him entertained. It was harmless, both parties knew this. They were nice girls, my age I expected, younger actually, they joked about my accent, sometimes I forgot how it must sound, the mix of Yorkshire and California. Vince was snoring. Beside his bed he had photos of his two children, and a wife I never even knew he had either.
“I won’t fall in love again, Tommy, that’s for sure. My wallet couldn’t take it,” he’d said before as he stumbled out of our black cab. “She’s the one for me. We drive each other insane, but she’s the one. You Tommy?”
“Me what?”
“Another woman?”
I didn’t answer, he was already stumbling towards his hotel.
I’d rung home hours before. Mum sounded angry, said Molly was upset. I’d hoped to catch her before bedtime, but I’d rung too late. I should have gone home but I was in a predicament where I couldn’t turn down money, especially not the amount Vince was throwing at me. Vince was promising a lot that night. Apparently, I’d be getting a cell phone, apparently a laptop too. I didn’t know how much these photos would make, but the way Vince was spending it, I had to assume it was lucrative.
I never understood the fascination of celebrity. I had been a tour guide so I knew its pull, but it was a different fascination now. People wanted their stars to be accessible, they wanted to see them off screen more than on. We now lived in a ‘Look at me’ or ‘Look at her’ generation and the celebrities were worse than their audience. Self-promotion and documentation to prove they existed and not just existing but leaving legacies and dynasties. Hey, I’d bought the magazines myself, not out of interest, but I still bought them, funded the organization that profits from others’ misfortune, it was part and parcel, part of the role of celebrity. She wouldn’t even be coming here if it weren’t for the media attention, she needed us as much as we needed her. She was just another creature of our time. Still, didn’t make it feel right, it was spying and my new profession was to be the spy.
I felt sick from the grappa. I walked over to the windows, blanket wrapped round my shoulders as I slid open the doors. The fresh air hit me, as did the sunrise. The balcony was high up, an impressive view of bridges and spires, a horizon of grandeur. It was hard to appreciate with such a hangover.
I thought of Cassie, asked her if I was doing the right thing, asked her questions I knew would not be answered. I went back to bed, closed my eyes, but it was too bright and too close to morning to go back to sleep. Instead I decided to go home, run away whilst Vince was still sleeping off last night. Left him a note, thanked him for the opportunity, but it wasn’t for me, that there were different ways to make a fortune.
* * *
He rang constantly the next few days, but I didn’t answer his calls. Vince even sent money but I still didn’t take the bait. He messaged me, I messaged back, him offering the world, me declining all the riches he threw at me.
Days went by as I tried to get back to normality, cleared my bedroom of anything to with Vince, stashed all the paperwork and notes in a box and stuffed it in my wardrobe. Took Molly on long walks, took her clothes shopping, tried to work out my next move.
Then one night there was a knock at the front door. I already knew who it was before Mum got up to answer it. I was just surprised it took him a week, I’d been expecting him since my escape.
6
“Did I oversleep or something?” I asked, surprised by the set table, the tablecloth, the matching teapot.
“No, but I think a certain little girl may have under-slept. Didn’t you Molly?”
Molly smiled, she was on Vince’s lap as Mum poured him another filter coffee, as Vince took the last slice of toast.
“You should be very honoured, Vince,” I said, looking for any remaining breakfast. “These plates and cups are normally reserved for royalty,” I added, resorting to a box of cereal.
“She is an excellent host. Thank you, Mrs S.” Vince raised his cup.
“Is your back OK, Vincent?”
“My back is hunky-dory. I thought I would have gotten here earlier. I didn’t think I’d be turning up as late as I did. And there was me thinking a train would be on time.”
“I thought Tom would have at least given you his bed?”
“Honestly, it’s fine.”
“Vincent was nice enough to grab us all eggs and bacon.” Mum looked at him like she suddenly had a new son. “It will be ready in five minutes.”
“Up early was you, Vince?” I smirked. “Unusual for you?”
“Early worm, Tommy.” He smiled. “I could get used to this rural living. Met me a couple of farm girls. Talked to some broad with two Great Danes. Some old chap with a fishing line cornered me. Kept calling me Joe.”
“Don’t mind him, his head’s still stuck in World War II,” Mum said. “Probably thinks you’re trying to steal all the women with promises of tights and chewing gum. You’ll be the talk of the village. They don’t see too many new faces round here.”
“What’s the plan, then?” Vince stretched, a yawn and a smile. “What are we doing with the rest of the day?”
“I thought you’d be heading back to London?”
“Tom, don’t be rude. I’m sure Vince wouldn’t mind staying a little longer.”
“Yes, Tommy listen to your mom. It would be a shame for me to travel so far and not be shown around.”
“Let’s all go lambing.” Mum said, looking pleased with herself.
“Lambing, as in lambs?” Vince said, taking a bite of toast.
“Yes, Vincent. Baby sheep.”
Molly started clapping. It sounded like she agreed with the idea.
“Vince, you don’t have to come,” I said. “If you’ve come to talk, we can stay back, say what needs to be said. Then you can go. That’s what you are here for, isn’t it?”
“Tom. What has gotten into you this morning? I’m sorry, Vincent, for my son’s rude behaviour.”
“That’s OK, Mrs S. Tommy is right. It was wrong for me to turn up unannounced.”
“Rubbish, Vincent. We are going lambing and you are coming – you’re invited too. That is final.”
“If you say so. You OK with that, Tommy? Me tagging along?” knowing I could hardly decline.
“The more the merrier,” I said, as Mum ushered me into the kitchen, towards the smell of bacon fat and the threat of a telling off.
* * *
“I like Vince,” Molly said through her dummy under the glow of her night light. “He’s a funny
man.”
“He certainly is.”
“He pulls funny faces.” She laughed. “And he sounds like Mommy.”
“You remember how Mommy talks?”
“Yes. Mommy calls me ‘Moo’.”
“What else?”
Molly suddenly went shy, her voice a whisper. “She was very pretty.”
“That is very true.”
“She sings me lots of songs. And combs my hair like a princess.”
“You remember a lot, don’t you?”
“Daddy, Vince’s face went green at the farm?”
“I don’t think he liked lambing very much.”
Molly found this hilarious. I was lying beside her, curled up in her bed, my spine bent and my knees tucked in, surrounded by stuffed animals and dolls, a position I found myself in most nights. Painful but perfect.
“Vince can sleep in my room.”
“No, he’s going home tomorrow. Early I expect.”
“Where Mommy lives?”
“Yes, going back home.”
“Heaven?”
“Come on, Molly, you need to close your eyes for me,” I said, kissing her head goodnight.
I found Vince and Mum downstairs drinking bourbon, laughing at the funniest joke they had ever heard or told.
“You’re not getting my Mum drunk are you, Vince?” I said.
“I might be.” He touched her leg, as she swooned. “Just telling your Mom about the Hills.”
“It sounds amazing, Tom. So, you’ve seen the Shangri-La studio then, Vincent?”
“Yes, Mam, many times. We both have.”
“My husband was a big Dylan fan. He would’ve loved it there. Have you been to the Getty Museum? You must have been,” she said, fiddling with her hair in a way I’d never seen.
“I’ve never been. Art isn’t really my thing. Unless I was selling it.”
“Art is for everyone. When you fly back, Vincent, you must start educate yourself in the arts. It’s very liberating.”
“But I’m living here with you. I’m never leaving.”
“Fine by me,” she said, as I noticed my mother’s plunging neckline and jewellery. “We’ll have to get bunk beds for you and Tom. What do you reckon? You fancy bunking up with Vincent?”
“You took your wedding ring off, Mum?”
She pulled her tongue out, she sensed this wasn’t a night for three, found a way to excuse herself, wished us both goodnight. We waited for her to go upstairs, sat and waited till we had the room to ourselves.
“You’ve got a nice set-up here. Molly’s a great girl, your Mom’s a star,” said Vince, pouring himself a drink from a bottle that wasn’t his.
“Things are working out OK. I don’t really want much to change.”
“That’s not what you said in London.”
“That was London. I hadn’t drunk like that in a long time.”
“Look, I know you’re not too happy with me turning up here, that is fucking obvious. But what was I supposed to do? You weren’t answering any of my calls.”
“I agree that was wrong, Vince. I should have given you the common courtesy of telling you to your face.”
“What will it take for you to change your mind. Money?”
“It’s not the money, it’s just not me, Vince. I haven’t got that ruthless bone in me. I don’t want be one of those vultures swarming around an SUV. A dozen men leaning over the bonnet, a dozen camera shots of some poor girl just trying to fill her car with fuel. I’m not a leech, I’ve seen them in Hollywood, they swarm about like a plague. It isn’t natural. It isn’t human.”
“It’s humanity in its purest form, Tommy. Celebrities have been around for fucking centuries. Fuck me, Cleopatra, Julius Caesar, Princess Diana. People are interested in people, especially the rich and powerful ones. That’ll never change Tommy.”
“I know it exists, Vince. I just don’t want to be part of it.”
“This will be different. You won’t be a swarm. I don’t want you following others. No one knows about this little cottage retreat. It’ll be just you. This will be under the radar, a secret mission. Colonel Kurtz style. Come on, Tommy, you were one of the best tour guides I knew.”
“That’s hardly a compliment. Besides, I don’t even think that is relevant. I’m not guiding anyone. I’m chasing. There is a difference.”
“It is relevant, Tommy. You were the best cos you were smart. You get inside celebrities’ heads, you know their next move. I still don’t know why the Boss sacked you, she never knew talent when she saw it, never knew how to get the best out of people.”
“She sacked me cos she knew deep down I hated it.”
“You didn’t hate it.”
“I did, Vince. Every day I hated it. Showing people around a city, famous landmarks I was comfortable with that, that I actually enjoyed. I was never fine with what it turned into.”
“But admit you was good at it.”
“I did OK.”
“Fuck that, Tommy, you were better than me then.”
I said nothing. Vince wandered the room, exploring the walls, the art, the photos of a dead father and a dead wife. He turned back to me, away from Cassie, knowing she would not approve of this conversation.
“This girl’s a cash cow, we get the right photo, we are talking a lot of dollars.”
“No, Vince.”
“What’s the alternative? I mean seriously. Cutting sheet metal for the rest of your life? Pulling lambs out of arseholes like today? You have no money, Tommy, your Mom has no money, she told me so. I’m giving you a way out. Do you even have an alternative?”
“I haven’t got one, is that what you want me to say? Is that why you are here? To make me feel like a failure?”
“I’m not a bad man, Tommy. We aren’t bad men. We aren’t harming the girl.”
“It doesn’t feel that way.”
“One job and you are set. Hell, you probably won’t need to work for six months after that. A year. Two years even.”
“Seriously. That’s how much I could earn?”
“If we do it right.”
We stopped talking. Vince was walking around the room again. I had my head in my hands.
“Just once, Vince. One job and that is it. One job. Promise. You come home with your treasure chest. The big hero.”
“We’re breaking the law, aren’t we? I’ve done my research. Trespassing on private property, intrusion. If we get caught.”
“We won’t get caught. You worry too much.” Vince lent in, his hand on my knee. Hey, I love you, Tommy. I’m not out to get you. I’m here to help you. This is good for us.”
“Good for our wallets, bad for the soul, hey.”
He laughed. “Story of my life. You in?” He poured me another drink I never asked for. “I’ll treat you to a Miceli’s when you finally decide to come back home.”
“Veal Scaloppini and a bit of old blue eyes.”
“As always, Tommy.” He smiled. His big perfect white teeth.
“OK, I’m in.”
“Good man. Right then, lots to talk through.” He sat beside me on the arm of the chair. “Talk me through it, step by step, what we know. LG arrives in a month…”
A week later Vince gave me a month’s money. I quit my job. It felt good, better than good.
It felt like a fire had been lit.
7
The day had come. After all the planning it had finally arrived, it was happening, April 2nd was here. The airport terminal was as crazy as Vince said it would be, the plane was already an hour late. The mood was turning more and more unfriendly and impatient the longer the arrival was delayed. Paparazzi liked to earn their money fast, not having to be made to wait, it was a numbers game, and the more minutes they stared at the runway, the less they were being paid for their
hourly rate. There was shouting and jostling for best positions, elbows and bad language, a controlled madness about to spill into chaos. There were little groups and packs, friendships and enemies. I heard accents too, French, German, people had come a long way for this.
I’d underestimated the press interest. I knew LG would get attention, even when I lived in LA she was causing ripples but I didn’t expect the waves to have made their way this far overseas. If she was a girl to be rationed then there wasn’t enough for everyone, she would be fought over, people here were in it for their own personal glory, best angles, best view. The better the photo and the quicker it was wired to some office somewhere, for men in ties to haggle and fight over, then the bigger their split.
But I wasn’t in the rabble, I was away from the shouting and jostling, hanging back on the periphery, watching the melee unfold, as I stood alone in relative calm. To any person in the profession it must’ve looked a ridiculous position to have stood and it was obvious the rest of the rabble agreed, giving us sneers and smirks. But there was a reason for my location, a reason why I’d chosen the worst angle with potentially the least chance of a big pay cheque.
The night previous, Vince took a phone call, it was long and loud, he came off hysterical.
“We have hit the jackpot buddy!” he said, jumping off the couch.
“Really?”
“This shit just got interesting.”
“What, is he coming with her? The boyfriend?”
“No, better than that.”
“Well, what?”
He was pacing the floor.
“He’s only gone and hit her.”
“He hit her?”
“Some party last night. Left a mark, too.”
“He hit her. What, like a punch?”
“Slap. Punch. Who gives a fuck anyways?”
“That guy is a prick. Someone saw him do it at the party, surely?”
“Apparently not, no one saw, it was over really quick, or if they did they are keeping it quiet. But it won’t stay quiet for long.”
“Is she OK?”
“It’s a bruise, Tommy, course she’s fucking OK. This changes tomorrow. We have to rethink. This is a game changer.”