For Love or Money: A laugh out loud, heartwarming romantic comedy

by Clodagh Murphy

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘This Al clearly likes you.’

  ‘No, it’s not like that. I turned him down when he asked me out, so he knows I’m not into him.’

  ‘Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you if this job is more about hunting the salami than unmasking the gold-digger.’

  ‘So you don’t think I should do it?’ Lesley asked.

  ‘I didn’t say that—’

  ‘Good. Because—’ she took a deep breath ‘—I’m going to do it!’

  6

  Stella Daniels woke to sun streaming in through the gap she had left in the blackout curtains, heralding the beginning of another perfect LA day. She had never been able to sleep in total darkness, but she hadn’t slept well last night anyway, despite the comforting chink of light, her mind racing, spinning around and around in circles, refusing to let go and slip into unconsciousness. That was happening a lot in the past couple of weeks. Everything had happened so fast, and her brain seemed to be struggling to keep up.

  She swung out of bed and pressed the remote control to open the curtains, light flooding the room and bouncing off the white stucco walls. Pulling on a robe over her silk pyjamas, she crossed the room, pushed open the French doors and stepped onto the terrace, the terracotta tiles warm beneath her bare feet. Below her, light sparkled and danced on the water of the swimming pool, its shimmering surface reflecting the intensely blue sky. Leaning on the railing overlooking the grounds, she closed her eyes and stretched her face to the early morning sun, absorbing its warmth. She breathed in deeply, inhaling the fragrant morning air and let out a contented sigh. Then she opened her eyes and looked out over the luxuriously planted garden to the sprawling city spread out in the distance, and wondered, not for the first time in the past few weeks, how she had got here. She couldn’t believe this was her life now, and she still had a pinch-me moment every morning she woke up to find herself living with Peter in this luxurious house in the Hollywood Hills.

  Peter’s proposal had taken her by surprise. They’d only been dating a few weeks before his heart attack, and Stella hadn’t expected it to be anything more than a casual, short-term thing. Peter was a notorious ladies’ man and was never with the same girlfriend for long. She had liked going out with him. The age difference wasn’t important to her, and Peter was great fun to be around. He really knew how to show a girl a good time. She had to admit she’d also liked the kudos of being seen around town with such a huge star. She’d had fun and enjoyed it for what it was, but she’d never for a moment expected it to last, especially after she’d told him all about herself – her true life story, complete and unabridged.

  She wasn’t naive. It had occurred to her that perhaps it only had lasted because she just happened to be with Peter when this huge, game-changing event had hijacked his life. It was strange to think that such a momentous turning-point could be down to something so serendipitous – like winning a very high-stakes game of musical chairs. Had she simply happened to be in the right place when the music stopped? If his heart attack had been a couple of months earlier, would Peter now be engaged to Carla Gonzales, the young actress he’d dated just before her? These were the thoughts that flickered through her mind constantly and kept her awake at night.

  She had surprised herself by saying yes to Peter. But at the time, she’d thought he was dying, and she had nothing to lose. It had seemed like the right thing to do; the kind thing. She would be making an old man happy in his last days. So she’d said yes in a reckless spirit of adventure, not thinking beyond it to the reality of marriage. She had just never thought it would come to that.

  She couldn’t deny she had been taken aback by Peter’s recovery. Even the doctors were impressed with how quickly he’d rallied. And now she found herself with a living, breathing fiancé and a wedding to plan. It wasn’t that she was put out about it exactly. She was very fond of Peter and she wished him well. She was happy he’d survived. But it put her decision to marry him in a whole new light, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

  She looked down at her engagement ring. She still couldn’t quite get her head around the fact that she was getting married. She’d been rattling around on her own in the world since she was sixteen, and she’d always travelled light, torching the earth behind her and moving on. This was something different, she thought, twisting the ring around absently. Marriage was weighty and solid, like the heavy stone on her finger. Marriage left traces.

  She went back inside, and her eyes strayed to the suitcases she had hauled out of the closet last night. She still hadn’t managed to bring herself to start packing. The prospect of going back to Ireland next week with Peter was tying nervous knots in her stomach.

  She didn’t expect his family to be very welcoming. She could imagine what they would think – a lowly young make-up artist engaged to a wealthy, ailing man more than twice her age. You didn’t need to be Sherlock to put two and two together and come up with gold-digger. Even she couldn’t rule out the possibility that Peter’s wealth might have influenced her decision to say yes. It was hard to tell if your motives were pure when money was involved. It would be naive to think it wasn’t an inducement. Money made everything easier. She didn’t care about the cliché stuff – the jewellery, the designer clothes, the five-star hotels. It was the more nebulous things that money could buy that she found enticing – silence, security, freedom. They were the things she might be tempted to sell her soul for.

  She was going to miss this place, she thought, as she sat down on the bed. More than the perfect weather and the beautiful house with its lavish furnishings, she would miss the privacy and seclusion here. The move to Ireland did have one big advantage, however: she’d be closer to Dan. The thought brought a kind of comfort that she felt seep through her body like an analgesic.

  Suddenly feeling an overwhelming need to speak to him, she checked her watch. It would be early evening in Ireland. She grabbed her phone from the nightstand and hit Dan’s number.

  ‘Stella!’ The warmth and affection in his soft, husky voice was instantly reassuring. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘I’ve got news,’ she said, keeping her voice low. They never bothered with chit-chat. They spoke too rarely to waste precious time on small talk. ‘I’m engaged.’

  She heard his intake of breath. ‘Engaged?’

  ‘Yes. To Peter.’

  ‘Peter Bradshaw?’ Dan knew she’d been dating Peter. ‘Fuck me!’

  He fell silent then. He would know she was feeling wobbly and insecure – he’d hear it in her voice, no matter how breezy she tried to sound. He would know she was looking for reassurance, that she wanted him to tell her it would be okay like he always had.

  ‘Congratulations, I guess.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘That was quick work. How much does he know about you?’

  She smiled. That was the million dollar question. Trust Dan to cut right to the chase. ‘He knows everything.’

  ‘Really? And ... he’s okay with it?’

  ‘Yes, he is.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘Yes. He knows who I am, and he still wants to marry me. Is that so hard to believe?’

  ‘Hey, of course not. I just don’t want you to get hurt.’

  She sighed. ‘I know.’ He was just worried for her, she understood that.

  ‘And you’re happy?’

  ‘Yeah, I guess I am.’

  ‘You don’t sound too sure.’

  ‘It’s just all happened so fast, I can’t get my head around it. Anyway, the good news is we’ll be moving back to Ireland. I’ll be living in Dublin. We can see each other.’

  ‘Great! It’s been a long time.’

  ‘Yeah.’ He was the person she loved most in the world. It had been far too long. Tears welled in her eyes at the thought of being able to put her arms around him again, of seeing him smiling at her ...

  ‘Look, I’ve got to go now,’ Dan said. ‘But let me know when you’re back
and we’ll arrange something.’

  When she had showered and dressed, she went downstairs. Maria, the maid, squeezed her some fresh orange juice and she took it out onto the patio and sat on a bench at the front of the house overlooking the sloping garden, her long legs tucked beneath her. She would miss this house. She’d been happy here – which seemed a little strange, in the circumstances. She’d enjoyed the time she’d spent here with Peter, just the two of them. She’d felt useful, looking after him and keeping him amused. It had been almost like a holiday, a time out from real life – they’d played Scrabble and watched television, and taken gentle walks in the garden, a little further each day while Peter built up his strength.

  She heard him talking to Maria in the kitchen, and then he joined her on the terrace.

  ‘Good morning.’ She smiled. He looked well – rested and handsome.

  ‘Good morning.’ He sat beside her on the bench. ‘Maria’s making huevos rancheros,’ he said, putting an arm around her.

  She frowned. ‘But you’re not supposed to eat too many eggs.’

  ‘They’re for you,’ he said. ‘I know they’re your favourite. I’ll just have some muesli.’

  She smiled as he pulled her to his side and she curled into him, laying her head on his shoulder. This was nice. Maybe this was all marriage meant and she was silly to panic about it. It was just about having someone who knew what you liked, and who wanted to please you; someone who was on your side and would always have your back.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, taking his hand and playing with his fingers.

  ‘I’m sorry it’s not been much fun for you here. I’m not usually such a boring old fart.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. I haven’t been bored.’ She lifted her head and looked out over the gardens to the horizon. ‘I hate leaving this. It’s so lovely.’

  ‘It is. But it’s always good to go home, isn’t it?’

  Stella shrugged. She didn’t feel any special connection to Ireland or any fondness for the grim little seaside town in Galway where she’d grown up. She had led a rootless, peripatetic existence since she’d left home at the age of sixteen, never looking back – well, except for Dan. He was the one thing she could never leave behind. ‘I guess it’s different when you have family,’ she said. ‘Home for me is wherever I live.’

  ‘Wherever you hang your hat,’ he said, smiling. ‘Well, I’m glad you’ve decided to hang it at my house. I can’t wait to introduce you to everyone.’

  ‘What if they don’t like me?’

  ‘They’ll love you,’ he said, smiling into her eyes.

  ‘Easy for you to say. You don’t have to worry about meeting my family.’

  ‘Poor Stella,’ Peter said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. ‘You’re so young to be all alone in the world.’

  ‘You’ll be my family now,’ she said, giving him a bright smile. ‘When we’re married.’ As she said it, she realised she meant it. She could do this. She could be Peter’s wife, and they could have a good life together. She would be faithful, and she’d take care of him. They’d be loyal and kind to each other, and she would prove to his family that she wasn’t on the make. She’d show them that she was good for him.

  She was going into this with her eyes open and she would do all she could to make their life together work. It would be fun too. Peter was rich, and they could travel and do interesting and exciting things. It would be an adventure. Looked at from that angle, it wasn’t scary at all. It was just another new beginning, and she was good at those.

  ‘You’re not having second thoughts, are you?’ Peter asked her. She realised she’d gone quiet.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I want to marry you, Peter.’

  ‘You do?’ He smiled, leaning forward to kiss her.

  This time, when she said ‘yes’, she really meant it.

  7

  Lesley waited until the following morning to contact Al and tell him she’d accept the job.

  He called around in the afternoon to discuss the details.

  ‘So, I’ll take the case,’ she told him as soon as they were sitting down. She’d already agreed to do it, but she’d always wanted to say that, and she might never get another opportunity.

  ‘Good. Excellent.’

  They were once more seated at the kitchen table. This time Lesley had brought out the good coffee in advance, and she’d bought some pastries from the local bakery, having decided she couldn’t serve Bradshaw Biscuits to Al.

  ‘I’ve already opened a file,’ she said, tapping the manila folder in front of her. ‘I’ve decided to call it “The Adventure of the Adventuress”.’ She pointed to the title written on the front of the file in black sharpie.

  ‘Oh, is that usual – to name your cases like that?’

  ‘Well, I’ve never done this before, but I thought it would be nice. What do you think?’

  ‘Of the title?’

  ‘Yes. I considered something with “mystery” in it, but this case doesn’t seem all that mysterious, does it? It has more of a caper vibe, what with the whole undercover girlfriend thing, so “adventure” seemed appropriate.’

  ‘You’ve given this a lot of thought.’

  ‘Well, it’s my first case, and – I’ll be honest with you, Al – I’m very excited about it. But you’re the client. If you don’t like it, we can change it. Or it can have no title at all, if you’d prefer.’

  ‘No, I like it. It’s catchy.’

  ‘It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?’

  ‘The Adventure of the Adventuress it is.’

  ‘Great! Now,’ she said, pulling a notebook from the folder and opening it, ‘tell me everything you know about this woman.’ She picked up her pen to take notes.

  ‘Well, there’s really very little,’ Al said. ‘Her name’s Stella Daniels. She’s a make-up artist. Peter met her on the set of his latest film. She’s Irish. Um ...’ He drummed his fingers on the table. ‘She’s twenty-six ...’ He trailed off.

  Lesley looked at her meagre notes. ‘There’s not much to go on. I suppose we’ll have to wait until Stella gets here and we can find out more about her.’ She took a Danish pastry and started pulling it apart. ‘In the meantime, why don’t we get started on our back story. I mean, if I’m going to be your girlfriend, I should know more about you.’

  ‘Okay. What do you want to know?’

  Lesley narrowed her eyes at him. ‘What happened to your last girlfriend?’ she asked.

  ‘Nothing! You make it sound like you think I did away with her or something.’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘Of course not. Why would you think that?’

  ‘You’re the one who brought it up.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t “off her”, as you’d put it.’

  ‘But you did piss her off.’

  ‘What makes you think it was my fault?’

  ‘It usually is the man’s fault, I find.’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t. We just split up.’

  ‘But why? There must have been a reason.’

  ‘That’s none of your business.’

  ‘It is if I’m going to be your next victim.’

  Al sighed. ‘She cheated on me, if you must know.’

  ‘Oh. Sorry. How long had you been together?’

  ‘Off and on for a couple of years.’

  ‘And when did you break up?’

  ‘About five months ago.’

  ‘And no one since then?’

  ‘Nothing serious. Until you,’ he said with a disarming smile.

  ‘You don’t need to flirt with me when no one can see us,’ Lesley said sternly. ‘Save that for when we’re with your family.’

  ‘I thought it would be easier if I tried to stay in character the whole time – it’ll be more natural then when we’re in public.’

  ‘Suit yourself. We should get a few photos of us together to put up on Instagram – you know, nights out, doing coupley things.’

  ‘That would mean we’d have
to go on some nights out.’

  ‘Don’t look so pleased about it,’ Lesley said. ‘It’s just business.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘You should change your Facebook status to “in a relationship” for starters. That’s the easiest way to get the word out, and establish us as a couple. I’ll send you a friend request so you can add me.’

  ‘And you’ll be changing your status too?’

  Lesley thought, taking a sip of her coffee. ‘I don’t really need to, do I? It’s only your family who need to think I’m your girlfriend, and I doubt we have any friends in common.’

  ‘But we will have, once we go public as a couple. My cousins at least are bound to add you.’

  Lesley felt a little childish thrill at the thought of having famous Facebook friends like Rafe and Scott Bradshaw. Everyone would be so impressed and jealous. Rafe was a huge heartthrob since Pride and Prejudice, and Scott was widely acknowledged to be sex on legs. The fact that he was gay was no bar to hordes of women worldwide casting him in their fantasies.

  ‘You definitely have to be in a relationship with me,’ Al said.

  Lesley raised her eyebrows meaningfully.

  ‘You know what I mean,’ Al said, reaching for a cinnamon roll. ‘How will it look if I say we’re in a relationship and you have it that you’re still single?’

  Lesley sighed. ‘I just don’t want to deal with the barrage of questions I’ll get from everyone if I put that I’m in a relationship. They’ll all want to know who you are. My family will probably even want to meet you.’

  Al shrugged. ‘You’ll be meeting my family.’

  ‘That’s different. Your family are cool.’ Lesley considered for a moment. ‘I could be “it’s complicated”?’ she offered.

  ‘No, you can’t be “it’s complicated”. That’ll look just as bad as if you’re single. It’s not complicated. You’re my girlfriend.’

  ‘Okay, okay, keep your shirt on. I’ll put that I’m in a relationship, and I’ll tag you in photos, so my friends can look you up.’