Idol

by Carrie Duffy

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you home?’ he asked. ‘I’m headed out that way anyway.’

  Sadie shook her head. She wasn’t planning to invite him in, and didn’t want to make it awkward.

  ‘Well, if you’re sure,’ Tyrone said neutrally, but she could tell from his expression he was a little hurt. He hailed a cab for her, and she watched the strong lines of his athlete’s body move under his clothes. He was solid; pure muscle. Despite herself, she felt a surge of desire deep within her belly.

  As the car pulled up, Tyrone turned to her, trailing his fingers all the way down her arm to lightly take her hand. Sadie shivered. His eyes were dark brown, liquid molten. Gently, he leaned down and pressed his cheek against hers. He smelt delicious. Sadie wanted to melt against him. His strong hands rested on the curve of her back, just above her bottom, his fingers brushing lightly against her skin.

  Sadie felt her nipples harden through the thin fabric of her dress. She drew back instantly, her cheeks flaming, but Tyrone had already noticed. There was no disguising the effect he had on her.

  With a superhuman effort, Tyrone pulled away.

  ‘Good night, Sadie,’ he said, his voice catching in his throat.

  ‘Good night,’ Sadie managed to stammer, as she hurled herself into the back of the taxi as though it was a refuge.

  Tyrone watched as the car pulled away. He was glad that she’d gone – he didn’t know whether he’d have been able to hold back if she’d stayed around any longer. He could tell that she’d been hurt in the past; there was a wariness to her that she couldn’t quite conceal, and he sensed she had her own issues to work out. He would take it slow, Tyrone promised himself.

  He liked this girl, really liked her. She was different – not like the identikit bimbos that hung around him, the blonde party girls with their fake hair, fake nails, fake breasts, all trying to bag themselves a rich athlete. No, Sadie was strong, ambitious and passionate. She’d be a tigress in bed, Tyrone thought, fighting a wave of frustration that he’d let her go like that.

  But no, he wanted to wait until she was desperate, begging him to take her. He’d have to play this one very carefully – he was going to make her crazy for him, all thoughts of anyone else driven out of her head. She was a challenge, but the rewards would be worth the time and attention he planned to lavish on her.

  Sadie Laine fascinated him – and Tyrone was hooked.

  28

  Jenna flipped open her illuminated compact and scrutinized her reflection. Her make-up was still immaculate, her stunning green eyes sparkling with life. But she barely recognized the girl that stared back at her. Her long, blonde waves had been replaced by a severe, jet-black bob – a wig, naturally – and if she pulled down her enormous Gucci shades, she thought that even Gerry might pass her by on the street. She wore a white Prada slip dress and quilted white pumps; the night air was warm, but she shivered in anticipation.

  This is what I’m getting married in, Jenna thought, hardly able to believe it. She wanted to laugh out loud, the idea was so crazy.

  Nick’s arm was casually slung round her shoulders and she snuggled against him, anxious for the re assuring feel of his body. In just a couple of hours’ time he would be her husband, Jenna thought, the word seeming so foreign and remote to her.

  Everything had happened so quickly. His on-stage proposal had felt like a scene from a movie – like something she was watching but not participating in. She couldn’t even remember what she’d said to him, but from the way he’d picked her up and swung her round, as easily as though she was made of air, it seemed pretty obvious that the answer was yes.

  They’d made their way off stage, swamped by a sea of well-wishers and ecstatic faces congratulating them. Jenna had decided to skip the after-show party; her head was spinning, and she wanted have a little space to gather her thoughts, to reflect on the prospect of becoming Mrs Nick Taylor.

  Nick had followed her up to her sumptuous suite. As they lay curled up together on the satin bedspread, drunk on happiness and high on each other, Nick rolled across to nuzzle her neck.

  ‘Why don’t we do it now?’ he suggested, every word interspersed with little butterfly kisses that covered her face and neck, deliciously light and sensual.

  Jenna’s eyes lit up as she hungrily kissed him back. His sexual appetite was insatiable.

  Nick grinned as he gently disentangled her arms from around his neck, laughing at the look of confusion on her face.

  ‘Plenty of time for that later,’ he told her softly. ‘A whole lifetime, I promise you.’

  ‘Then what …?’

  ‘The wedding. Let’s do it now.’

  ‘Now?’ Jenna pulled herself upright, a puzzled expression crossing her beautiful face. ‘What do you mean, now?’

  ‘We’re in Vegas, baby! Where better?’

  ‘I …’ Jenna hesitated, groping for the right words.

  ‘You haven’t changed your mind, have you?’

  ‘No, not at all. I’m just surprised. I didn’t expect … Tonight?’ she repeated in disbelief.

  Nick sat up, cradling her in his arms. He could feel the soft, slim lines of her back pressing against him, the heavy breasts swaying above where his hands encircled her waist. Damn, he was crazy about this girl. ‘Why not? We don’t need anyone else there, do we?’

  Jenna thought of her mother, who would never see her little girl get married, before flashing on to her father, who wouldn’t even be interested by the news. ‘I guess not …’

  ‘Imagine it,’ Nick whispered. ‘Imagine going back down to join the party as husband and wife. It’d completely shock everyone. There’d be no planning, no hassle. Just you and me. That’s all I need,’ he told her tenderly.

  Jenna stared at him, searching his face for the answers she needed. Everything he’d said was true. Why not just go for it? There were no family or close friends who would need to be there … apart from Gerry, she realized with a pang of trepidation, wondering how he would react. It wasn’t even a question – he’d hit the roof. They’d probably hear the roar out here in Nevada.

  But what the hell, she was a grown woman, wasn’t she? Able to make her own decisions and do what she wanted.

  Yeah, like trusting Paul Austin, a voice piped up in the back of her mind. Jenna quashed it instantly. That was totally different and it was going to be dealt with – she and Sadie would make sure of that. Nobody screwed over Jenna Jonsson and got away with it.

  And what did it matter if she knew nothing about secure investments? She was a pop star, not some financial analyst with a soulless cubicle and a peptic ulcer. What she did know about was love and passion – and this was the real thing.

  ‘Okay, let’s do it,’ she said lightly

  Nick’s face instantly softened. ‘Really? You want to?’ He jumped up from the bed so quickly that it startled Jenna. ‘Leave everything to me. I’ll be back in an hour. And dress for a wedding,’ he winked, as he strode out of the room.

  True to his word, he’d arranged everything, turning up sixty minutes later looking impossibly handsome in a light grey suit with a pale pink shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest. Jenna was dressed and ready to go, her heart beating out of control. She didn’t think anything in Vegas could top the buzz of playing a sold-out concert at The Colosseum, but it turned out she was wrong. Getting married was turning out to be a pretty wild rush.

  ‘Put this on,’ Nick told her, as he flung the wig across the room and settled a grey fedora on his head.

  ‘A disguise?’ Jenna asked, attempting to tuck her long blonde hair beneath the impractical hairpiece.

  ‘We’re going incognito. There’s a car waiting out the back, and a decoy out front just in case,’ Nick grinned, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her towards the door.

  Jenna stopped him. ‘Just one more thing.’ She broke a pink carnation from one of the many bouquets that decorated the room and tucked it into his buttonhole, running her hands over his ches
t as she smoothed down his jacket. ‘Perfect,’ she declared.

  Nick bent down and kissed her gently on the tip of her nose, his strong hands grasping her shoulders. ‘Thank you, Miss Jonsson,’ he growled huskily, delighting in using her maiden name for the final time. ‘Let’s go.’

  And now they were in a blacked-out limo, stuck in traffic on Las Vegas Boulevard. The Night of a Thousand Stars had caused a roadblock even worse than the usual weekend rush hour, and cars were honking angrily. Jenna turned round to check behind her, but she was pretty sure no paparazzi had followed them. It’d be hard for them to get a tip-off when she’d only found out herself an hour ago, she reasoned. They were probably all staking out the after-show party, expecting her and Nick to make a grand entrance. Well, they would, she thought with a growing sense of excitement. Only they wouldn’t be engaged – they’d be newlyweds.

  It was what she’d wanted for so long – to have someone to love her and take care of her, someone who wouldn’t leave her the way her father had. They could take a couple of years to enjoy each other and then think about kids, start their own little family that she’d be a part of forever.

  But Jenna couldn’t help but remember what Sadie had said – that Nick had casually hit on her, behaving as though he was a single guy. Of course she was lying, or exaggerating. Sadie had probably said ‘Hi’ to him and convinced herself that they’d had a whole conversation, imagined Nick asking her out in some childish fantasy. She and Jenna had been arguing when Sadie blurted it out – most likely she’d made it up to hurt Jenna. But still, she had to know.

  ‘Nick,’ Jenna began, trying to keep her tone light, ‘do you know a girl called Sadie Laine?’

  Nick stared straight ahead, his face inscrutable as he pretended to think for a moment. Then he shook his head. ‘No, never heard of her.’

  ‘She said she met you,’ Jenna pressed. ‘Before the show tonight …’ She daren’t say any more. She didn’t want Nick to be angry with her. They were about to get married – she could hardly accuse him of infidelity on the way to the chapel.

  Nick laughed easily. ‘Sweetheart, I met loads of people tonight – there were hundreds backstage. Maybe I signed an autograph for her?’

  ‘Mmm hmm,’ Jenna agreed doubtfully.

  ‘Hey, that reminds me, we really need to get you an engagement ring,’ he said brightly, hoping Jenna would buy the subject change. She did, her eyes lighting up at the prospect of diamonds. ‘I promise you, the next chance we get we’ll find you the biggest, most beautiful ring. You can pick whatever you want – your call.’

  Jenna giggled. He was like a child at times, so full of energy and exuberance. ‘So I’m going to get my ring after the wedding?’

  Nick grinned. ‘Hey, I’ve never been a conventional guy.’

  Jenna snuggled closer to him, as the traffic started to move again. She did love him, Jenna told herself. He was so handsome and exciting – life with him would never be dull, she was certain of that.

  And yet … There were no guests, no engagement ring. If she was being honest, it wasn’t exactly how she’d imagined her perfect wedding day. As a child she’d dreamed of being a fairytale princess, marrying her very own Prince Charming in a romantic castle surrounded by admirers. She would wear Vera Wang couture with a diamond tiara, and the room would be filled with white roses and ivy, lit by towering ivory candles. The idea of some quickie wedding in a tacky Vegas chapel had never entered her head.

  Perhaps they could have the wedding blessed, Jenna thought hopefully, wrapped up in the fantasy. Just as soon as they could both find a gap in their schedules. Then she could still have the wedding of her dreams and Gerry could be there, and Rory and Zac …

  Zac. What was going on with him lately? Usually he acted as if he couldn’t stand her, but ever since they’d started rehearsals for The Colosseum he’d been a different guy, friendly and relaxed. And the way she’d felt when she’d watched him perform – that passion and drive, that sheer sexuality …

  ‘We’re here,’ Nick said softly, as they pulled into the parking lot behind the wedding chapel. It was crazy, like a cross between a cosy New England lodge and a Disneyland castle, surrounded by immaculate lawns with sweeping trees and enclosed by a white picket fence. A flashing neon sign mounted above the entrance declared it to be the Chapel of the King.

  ‘That’s Elvis, by the way,’ Nick explained. ‘Not Charles, or Louis, or whatever else they call kings …’

  ‘Right.’ Jenna bit her lip, not trusting herself to say anything more.

  ‘I thought if we’re gonna do it here, we might as well go for the full works. Can’t get married in Vegas and not have Elvis involved,’ he tried to joke.

  Jenna nodded, the dark wig falling into her eyes.

  ‘You ready?’ Nick asked seriously, as he scrutinized her troubled face.

  ‘Yeah. Just pre-wedding jitters,’ she confessed.

  Nick smiled, as he gently brushed a lock of dark hair away from her cheek. ‘Don’t worry about anything. I love you, Jenna, and you’re going to be my wife.’ Jenna tilted her face upwards as he leaned down to kiss her, his mouth crushed against her own. She felt the softness of his lips, the warmth of his breath, and melted into his arms. Everything was going to be okay, she told herself fiercely. Nick loved her, and she loved him.

  Nick pulled back, his hands running over the soft lines of her body. ‘Christ, the things you do to me,’ he murmured, looking at her in wonder as he began to get hard. ‘Let’s go do this, before I consummate the marriage in the car park.’

  He jumped out of the car and raced round to the other side to open the door for her, keeping his hat pulled down low in case there were any photographers.

  Jenna held on to his hand as she got out, and together they hurried through the arched double-doors and into the entrance porch, where they stood beneath plastic garlands of exotic flowers, and strings of coloured fairy lights.

  Tentatively Jenna peered into the main chapel. It certainly looked amazing, she thought numbly. If you wanted to get married surrounded by every romantic cliché, it didn’t disappoint. The interior of the Chapel of the King was like stepping inside a Roman temple; brilliant white, with majestic arches and ornately carved pillars. Faux-silk, champagne-coloured curtains were draped across the windows, and the ceiling was hand-painted with a crude evangelical scene, all flying cherubs and fluffy white clouds.

  Jenna inhaled sharply. It was worse than she thought.

  She seemed to be on autopilot as Nick handed over the marriage licence and they filled out their details in the registry book. Her hands were shaking and she made a mistake. She had to cross out her date of birth and rewrite it. Christ, was she really only 23, Jenna wondered in disbelief, as she stared at the stark, black numbers on the page in front of her. Till death do us part suddenly seemed a hell of a long time.

  Her own mother had been just a year younger when she’d married. And look how that turned out, Jenna thought unhappily. She recalled the misery of living through her parents’ divorce as a child, the arguments and the silences before they finally split, followed by Jenna’s own feelings of guilt that it was somehow her fault.

  Could she even have children with Nick?, she wondered suddenly. He was little more than a big kid himself. Shit, what if people thought she was already pregnant? She could imagine the headlines already, the clear implication that it was a shotgun wedding.

  Jenna shook her head, trying to clear it, insisting to herself that this was just a normal case of cold feet. Her own mother and father had been so completely unsuitable, such different people with incompatible dreams and ambitions, that it wasn’t surprising they hadn’t lasted the distance. But she and Nick were the same – they wanted the same things out of life, and understood each other’s worlds and the pressures of the business. Not to mention the fact that they were fucking like rabbits night and day.

  She peeped round again at the intimate chapel. At the altar stood the King himself, resplendent
in his famous white, rhinestone-encrusted jumpsuit. He was wearing dark sunglasses and throwing some poses. Jenna swallowed. She’d never been an Elvis fan.

  Her mouth was bone dry, and she chewed gently on the inside of her cheeks to stimulate the saliva glands, the way her singing teacher had taught her. It didn’t seem to help. If anyone had a large Jack and Coke handy, she’d be very grateful.

  Jenna jumped as Nick took her arm and guided her to the top of the aisle. As the opening strains of ‘Love Me Tender’ creaked into life for the umpteenth time that day, Jenna felt something inside her snap. What the hell was she doing here?

  Panic-stricken, she turned to Nick.

  ‘I can’t marry you,’ she told him helplessly. ‘I’m sorry.’

  PART THREE

  29

  The Hon. Vivian Cavendish Spencer emerged from the elegant restaurant in London’s Mayfair, paying no attention to the obsequious bow of the doorman; after all, one should never acknowledge the help. She was dripping with diamonds and a dead fox lolled, glassy-eyed, around her shoulders. Paul Austin walked attentively beside her – Vivian was a few days shy of her seventy-third birthday and increasingly unsteady on her feet.

  On seeing her approach, the uniformed driver who was parked at the kerb ran round to open the car door, before ensuring that she was comfortably settled inside.

  ‘Give my regards to Charlie,’ Paul Austin called out as the door slammed shut. Vivian ignored him, pursing her lips disapprovingly and looking straight ahead as the sleek, silver Bentley moved silently into the mid-afternoon traffic.

  Stupid old bitch, Paul thought bitterly. Why doesn’t she just hurry up and die?

  Vivian, known as Tibby to her close circle, was a long-time friend of the family. Paul had been at Marlborough with her youngest son, Charlie. Her husband had died just over a year ago, making her a very wealthy woman, and since then Paul had been investing money on her behalf. Now he needed more. Just a small fraction of her fortune would be invaluable to him. So Paul had taken her out for lunch, hoping to get her to agree to a further transfer of funds.