“India?”
She looked down onto the beach. Kenny was standing there, handsome as ever and dangerously real.
“Can I come up?” he asked, his hands shoved in his pockets.
“Yeah ... sure. Come on.”
She buzzed the gate and he opened it, running up the wooden stairs that led up from the beach to the decking area.
“I thought I’d take a walk on the beach, see if you were around yet.”
She continued to look out over the ocean. “I came here a bit earlier than planned. Michael’s too busy, I was only disturbing him.”
“Is he ok?”
She looked at him, already regretting letting him come up. “Stop pretending you care how he is, Kenny. What do you want anyway? Why did you come to L.A.? I thought you were staying in Vegas?”
“I couldn’t settle. I needed to see you.”
She looked away again, focusing on someone throwing a stick for their small dog, watching the dog run after it and race back to it’s owner with the stick in it’s mouth, it’s tail wagging furiously.
“And I needed to be with Michael. Without the distraction of you. It’s not fair you coming here.”
“India ... look at me. Please.”
“Bobby’s going to be back soon, and I really don’t want him to know you’re here.”
“Why would that matter?”
“Because he might tell Michael.”
“And you don’t want him to know.” It wasn’t a question.
“I shouldn’t have let you up here.” She looked at him, right into his eyes. “What do you want, Kenny?”
He reached out to touch her shoulder, and even though she shrugged him off she still felt a jolt of electricity run right through her.
“You felt it too, didn’t you?”
She was still looking at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“When we kissed, back in Vegas, you felt it too. I know you did.”
“You know, do you?”
“Yes. Because I know you, India. And don’t kid me that you felt nothing ‘cos you’ll only be lying to yourself.”
“Don’t tell me how I feel, ok? Don’t do that.”
He reached out and touched her cheek and this time she left his hand there for a few seconds before brushing it away, angry with herself for doing that. She turned away from him and went inside.
“Go home, Kenny. You shouldn’t have come here.”
He followed her inside, grabbing her arm, swinging her round to face him. “We need to talk about this, India.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. Nothing. Ok?”
He let go of her arm and ran a hand through his dark hair. Then, looking up again, he caught her totally by surprise, he was too quick for her to even realise what he was doing as he pushed her back against the wall and kissed her, hard and fast, his fingers slipping between hers, holding them tight. But India didn’t want this, she didn’t want him to do this, and she pushed him away, staring at him, angry that he’d dared to do that and confused because of what she was feeling.
“Just go home, Kenny.”
He shook his head. “We need to talk. We really need to talk.”
“No,” she whispered. “No, we don’t. I love Michael. I love him and I want to be with him, I don’t need this, Kenny. I don’t need you.”
“You do,” Kenny said. “You might not think you do, but you do.”
He came closer, slowly reaching out to touch her cheek and this time she let him.
“I love you, India. I’m in love with you, I always have been and I always will be, and when you realise just how much you really do need me ... I’ll be here. I’ll always be here.”
“Why are you doing this?” she whispered, looking into his beautiful dark eyes, scared of everything that was happening, of everything she was feeling.
“Because I love you.”
“You can’t. You can’t be doing this because you love me, this is hurting me. Don’t you realise that? It’s killing me. This isn’t fair.”
“Having to watch you with him isn’t fair, India. Knowing he’s loving you, knowing he’s touching you like I used to do, that isn’t fair.”
“He’s my husband. He has every right to do all of that. You have no right at all.”
“Don’t I?”
She pushed his hand away, angry with him now, angry that he was putting this on her when all she’d wanted to do these next few days was be with Michael.
“That is an unbelievably selfish attitude, Kenny. What about me? How do you think this is making me feel?”
“I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “No. You’re not. I don’t think you’re sorry at all.”
He leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes for a second. “I didn’t want to hurt you, India.” He opened his eyes and looked at her. “I just can’t do it anymore. I can’t go on hiding what I feel. I can’t.”
She sat down and put her head in her hands. “You should have tried. Because I don’t know what you expect me to do.”
“I came running to you when you needed me.”
“That was different, Kenny.”
“Was it?”
She stood up, walking over to him, but not close enough for him to touch her. “You weren’t married.”
“Neither were you, back then.”
She turned away from him. “Like I said, it was different, Kenny.”
He came after her, grabbing her arm and swinging her back round to look at him. “So, it’s ok for you to call me and ask me to come running but if I need you to do the same then it’s different?”
“Yes! Jesus, Kenny, I’m not going to put my marriage at risk for a stupid fling!”
“A stupid fling? Is that what it would be? Is that what you think of me?”
She looked at him again, a headache starting to pound behind her eyes.
“It’s not going to happen, Kenny. I can’t go there again.” Her voice was quieter, calmer, belying everything she felt.
“But you want to. Don’t you?”
She looked deep into his eyes and said nothing, but that was all the answer he needed. Silence spoke volumes, and she was loud and clear to him.
He leaned forward and kissed her gently. A quick kiss but one that carried so much trouble. “You believe what you want to, India. I’ll back off, ok? Maybe I shouldn’t have said everything that I did ... you were right, it wasn’t fair, but I meant it. Every word. And I’m sorry if that’s hard for you to hear. I’m sorry.”
“I’ll see you in Vegas, Kenny,” India whispered, folding her arms in an almost defensive manner.
He looked at her but she just wanted him to leave, she needed him to go.
“I don’t want to lose you, India, so I’m always going to be around, I’m always going to be your friend, that’ll never change. But neither will the way I feel about you. And you need to know that.”
She watched him leave, her head spinning with the things he’d just said and angry at the situation he’d put her in. She loved him, she’d always loved him, of that she had no doubt, but not in the way he loved her. She was in love with Michael. And the thought of being without him outweighed anything she felt for Kenny.
She grabbed her t-shirt from the back of the chair and pulled it on, running upstairs to her and Michael’s bedroom, going straight into the en-suite and splashing cold water over her face, patting it dry as she opened the cabinet above the sink to look for some headache tablets; the throbbing behind her eyes was getting worse by the second. As she felt around inside she accidentally knocked something onto the floor and she crouched down to pick up whatever it was, staring at the strip of unused contraceptive pills, turning them over in her fingers. She’d stopped taking them a year or so ago for health reasons and they relied solely on condoms now, but just seeing them made her think.
Still holding the pills she walked out into the bedroom, sitting down on the bed. Would a baby really be such a bad idea
? If she loved Michael so much why was she so reluctant to have his child? It was almost as if she was scared of taking that final step, that one last commitment.
She put the pills down on the bedside table and picked up the wedding photo of her and Michael that stood by his side of the bed. He looked so handsome. They both looked so happy. Would it be so wrong to bring a baby into this marriage? Michael would make a wonderful dad, she had no doubt about that, but whether she’d be a good mum was another matter. But maybe a baby was just what she needed. A baby could be just the thing to sort her head out as far as Kenny was concerned. A baby would make her realise he didn’t matter in that way anymore. A baby would give her focus.
She heard Bobby arrive home and jumped off the bed, checking her reflection in the mirror before running downstairs. He was busy unpacking the groceries in the kitchen and she immediately grabbed the bottle of wine he had in his hand, opened it and poured herself a glass.
Bobby just looked at her as she knocked half of it back in one go. “Ok. Talk.”
She looked at him. “Do you think I’d be a good mum?”
His hand automatically flew to his mouth and he started jumping up and down. “You’re not ...?”
“No. I’m not.”
“Oh.”
She finished off the rest of the wine and slammed the glass down on the counter, taking the bottle and pouring herself a bit more. “Yet.”
Bobby grabbed himself a glass from the cupboard, took the bottle from India’s grasp and took her hand, dragging her outside onto the decking.
“Come on, missy, I think we need to talk.”
They sat down facing the ocean, a gentle, cool breeze now taking the edge off the afternoon heat. Bobby poured more wine then leaned forward, looking at her.
“Come on then, angel. What’s going on?”
She took another mouthful of wine. It wasn’t exactly making her think any straighter but it was helping her to relax. “I don’t know, Bobby. I just think maybe it’s time.” She looked at him, his eyes wide as he listened intently. “I still don’t know if I’m really ready, or even if it’s 100% what I want but, I think it’s what me and Michael need. Does that make any sense?”
“Not really, sugar. I just want to know if I’ll be considered as God daddy.”
She couldn’t help smiling. She’d love to be able to really open up to Bobby, to tell him the real reason why babies had suddenly become her major concern. She’d love to tell him all about Kenny and why she was scared and wary and totally confused but she couldn’t. As close as she was to Bobby, she just couldn’t open up that much.
“You’ll be first in line.” India smiled at him and he clapped his hands together as he squealed in delight.
“So, you and Mr Walsh are definitely going to go for it then?”
She sat back and stared out at the ocean. Her haven of calm. “More than likely. I’ll talk it over with Michael when he gets home.”
“Oh, this is so exciting!”
She looked at him again. “Bobby, you tell nobody about this, ok? This is just between you and me. I don’t want anyone else knowing. I’m only telling you because I’ll need you to book my obstetrician appointments.” She was still smiling as she spoke. “Seriously though, I mean it. Nobody is to know about this because nothing is set in stone. I’ve only just decided to give this some serious thought myself.”
“You know me better than that, missy. I’m the soul of discretion. Especially where you’re concerned.”
“Thanks, Bobby, and I’m really going to need you if I do decide to go through with this. I’m scared out of my mind at the thought of being a mum.”
“Rubbish. You’ll be a great mom.”
“How can you know that? I drink beer, go to rock gigs, surf, and I can’t bear the thought of sharing my husband.” She looked at Bobby as she suddenly felt that real fear rise up in her again. That fear of losing Michael to somebody else. Even if it was their own child. “I don’t think I can do it, y’know. Share Michael, I mean. Does that make me sound weird?”
“A bit Glenn Close in ‘Fatal Attraction’ maybe.”
She hit him with a magazine that was lying on the table. “I can’t explain it, Bobby. I just love him so much.”
Bobby poured her more wine. She was starting to feel decidedly light-headed now. “You’ll make gorgeous babies, angel. Especially if they look like you.”
“What’s wrong with Michael?”
“Nothing, honey, but he’s not as pretty as you. Look, I can’t exactly speak from experience here but you can only do what you feel is right for you. And if you really want to be a mom then you go right ahead and do it. If you love each other – and I know you and Mr Walsh do, any idiot can see that and I’m so jealous – if you love each other then it’s the natural next step, isn’t it?”
Bobby picked up the now empty bottle of wine and looked at it as though expecting it to miraculously fill up again. India was a little bit drunk now and almost excited for Michael to get home. If she was going to go through with this then she wanted to get started making baby Walsh as soon as possible. Before she changed her mind.
Bobby stood up as the ‘phone inside started ringing, leaning over to kiss her cheek, smiling. “I’ll get that. Then I’m putting some coffee on. No more wine for you otherwise you’ll be dancing on tables and pretending you’re Whitney Houston again by the time Mr Walsh gets home. And the last time that happened is still etched all too clearly in my brain, angel.”
She watched him go inside then sat back in her chair, hugging her knees to her chest as she looked out over the Ocean. India Walsh. Actress, model, wife - and mum. It sounded alright. It didn’t sound odd or unusual. It sounded like her future.
***
Michael was tired and all he wanted to do was go home. It had been a longer day than he’d anticipated but a few problems with Layla had meant some scenes had taken longer to get in the can than others. He’d decided against going to look at the dailies that evening too, opting to go straight home instead, but that was only because India was in L.A. If she’d still been in Vegas he probably would have stayed at the studio for most of the night.
Layla was starting to act like a spoilt child. She was getting away with much more than any other actress would purely because of who her parents were and Michael couldn’t help but wish he’d put his foot down harder when it had come to the casting of her role. She wasn’t bad, that wasn’t the problem. When she set her mind to it and concentrated she could act, that wasn’t in question. It was her attitude that was the real problem. She was acting like a diva when she wasn’t in the position to even think that way and it was starting to agitate him. He knew she was doing it for his benefit, trying to get his attention in any way she could and it was giving him a major headache. He’d have to do something about it before it started to affect everyone around her.
The drive to Malibu had taken longer than he’d wanted, too, thanks to the traffic, but as he pulled into the garage he almost breathed a sigh of relief. He was home and his wife would be waiting for him.
But he had something to do first, before he went anywhere. Still sitting in the car, he opened his case and took out an A4 envelope, pulling out a stack of photographs – photographs of Kenny Ross talking to India, on the deck of this beach house. Their beach house. His, and India’s. Photographs that had been taken that very afternoon, letting Michael know that Kenny wasn’t in Vegas but right here in Malibu. According to the information Michael had received, Kenny had arrived around 2.45pm. They’d gone inside for only a brief amount of time then he’d left. Looking at the photographs Michael could tell that whatever they’d been talking about hadn’t made India happy. And he didn’t like it when she wasn’t happy.
He slid the photographs back into the envelope and put them back in his case, getting out of the car. So, Kenny hadn’t stayed in Vegas after all. He’d apparently arrived on another flight into L.A. early that morning. Why he was here Michael had no idea but his st
omach was turning with the thought that something was going on between him and India again. The only consolation he could take was that, in the photographs, she’d looked less than pleased to see him.
He walked into the house, going straight to the kitchen to get himself a glass of water, drinking it slowly as he leaned back against the counter, looking around him. They’d both loved this house the second they’d set eyes on it. It was one of the larger houses on this stretch of the dry sand beach, facing right out over the ocean. With its cream exterior and neutral interior and the huge walls of glass that afforded stunning views out across the beach and the ocean, it had a lovely, light and airy feel about it. There was a small garden outside and two huge decking areas – one upstairs that led off the main bedroom, and a larger one downstairs that led off the living room which had stairs leading directly down onto the beach. The house wasn’t as large as the one they had in The Hollywood Hills, but it was perfect for what they needed it for. It was their getaway. And Kenny Ross had no right being there.
India obviously wasn’t downstairs so he headed up to the first floor where he found her in their bedroom, lying on her stomach on the bed flicking through a magazine, obviously having just had a shower as a towel was wrapped around her head and she was wearing her bathrobe.
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