by Karen Clarke
He grinned. Jay Merino was grinning. There was nothing remotely feral or scary, or even starry, about him. He looked… normal. OK, not going-to-work-in-an-office or on a building-site normal, but nothing like his screen persona either, or the man in the photos I’d looked at online. ‘That explains it then,’ he said.
‘It’s Natalie Bright.’
‘Great name.’
‘So is yours.’ Lame.
‘Things might have been easier if I’d changed it,’ he said. ‘But it was the name I was born with, so I decided to stick with it.’
‘Even if you’d changed it, someone would have recognised you.’ I was still having trouble believing I was having a tête-à-tête with Jay Merino on a deserted street in France, the sound of boat masts clinking in the harbour. ‘You can’t hide for long when you’re famous.’
‘More’s the pity.’ His eyebrows wrinkled. ‘So, were you stalking me, Natalie Bright?’
‘No!’ The word burst out, startling a passing gull. ‘Well, I was, but not in the way you think. I mean, I didn’t know it was you, but I was hoping it was someone who might be able to persuade you to talk to me.’
‘Hang on.’ He looked around, as if there might be a real assassin taking aim at him. ‘How did you know we were here, when everyone signed NDAs?’
‘DNAs?’
‘NDAs. Non-disclosure agreements.’
‘Oh, right. Sorry.’ I chewed my lip. ‘I don’t want to get anyone into trouble,’ I said. ‘I promise I’m the only one who knows you’re here, apart from my dad and a very good friend of mine. Two friends, if you count the person who told my dad, but they’re very discreet and it won’t go any further.’ Keen to erase the faint crease of worry that had settled on his forehead, I said, ‘Do you remember the promise you made that night?’
He scrunched his eyes, as if looking into the past. ‘That you could interview me when I was famous?’
I suppressed a squeal of excitement. ‘I tried, after you did that zombie film, but you turned me down.’
His eyebrows jerked. ‘I did?’
‘Well, your agent regretfully informed me you didn’t give interviews.’
He nodded slowly. ‘I decided early on I wasn’t going down that route, but if I’d known it was you…’ The way he said it, with a crooked smile, made my heart leap into my throat. It was utterly astonishing how pleased he seemed to see me, even though I’d knocked him over and made his director angry – unless he was acting, but a gut feeling told me he wasn’t. ‘I suppose I do owe you, seeing as you just saved my life.’
‘Well, now you mention it.’ I dipped my head in a coquettish manner.
He gave a boisterous laugh. ‘That was pretty impressive, by the way.’
Oh wow, Jay Merino was so nice. ‘Why, thank you.’ I curtsied, hoping I wasn’t pushing my luck, and was rewarded with another short laugh. ‘What about your collarbone?’
‘It’s an old injury, from a stunt I did a few years ago.’ He rotated one shoulder, and massaged it with his other hand. ‘It flares up now and again, particularly when I’m leapt on by eager females, which is why I have a stunt double now.’
‘I read somewhere that you bribed him to pretend to be you.’
‘Not true, like most things you’ve probably read about me.’
‘That you wanted a hot tub installed by your trailer?’
‘Definitely not true.’
‘You gave up smoking?’ I recalled the glow of his cigarette the night we met.
‘That is true,’ he said, his smile suggesting that he was remembering it too. ‘I never really enjoyed it.’
It felt like we were flirting, but I was so out of practise it was hard to tell. Then again, he was the one who’d brought up our bygone kiss.
‘I’m glad I didn’t break anything,’ I said.
‘It does hurt a bit.’ He gave a clownish wince.
‘God, I’m so sorry.’
‘Don’t be.’ His eyes softened. ‘To be honest, this is the most fun I’ve had in ages.’
‘You should get out more.’ Now we were both laughing, as if I was the funniest person on the planet, and I prayed if this was a dream, I wouldn’t wake up for at least the next two years. ‘I can’t believe I’ve just been filmed, jumping on top of you.’
‘Don’t worry, it won’t be used.’ Jay pushed a hand into the pocket of his bomber jacket. ‘And mobile phones are banned, for this morning at least, so you don’t need to worry that anyone else filmed you, either.’
I hadn’t been, until then. ‘What about him?’ I pointed to the restaurant owner, fiddling with his table umbrellas, clearly agog at the unexpected drama that had unfolded in front of him. ‘Or the woman in the bakery?’
‘They wouldn’t dare.’ He pulled a fierce Max Weaver face, that wasn’t half as intimidating as it looked onscreen – or maybe it was just that now I knew he wasn’t intimidating at all. ‘They’re being paid for their time and wouldn’t want to risk being cut out of the film, or sued, by posting something online.’
‘I don’t suppose my scene will stay?’
‘I’m afraid not.’ He slipped into character, his face transforming. ‘Nobody puts Max Weaver down.’
‘Except, I did.’
He smiled that smile again. ‘Yes, you did.’
I shivered. Not with cold – the sun was warm, heating the top of my head – but with a mix of giddy excitement and… something hard to pin down.
‘I should let you get on,’ I said, following the line of his gaze.
The director was holding a cardboard coffee cup, talking to the cameraman, while Jay’s bodyguard Simon stood nearby, his burning gaze fixed on me. Maybe he wasn’t convinced that I wasn’t a stalker, after all, and he must be fuming that he’d got into trouble for not spotting me sooner.
‘Don’t worry about him.’ Jay must have read my mind. ‘Simon’s just doing his job – or at least, he should have been.’ His mouth did a rueful twist. ‘You wouldn’t believe the lengths people go to get close to me, and I’m not being big-headed when I say that.’
‘Reporters?’
‘And a woman convinced I’d asked her to marry me. But mostly reporters.’
‘Maybe it’s your own fault,’ I said. ‘If you gave them what they wanted, they might leave you alone.’ His expression darkened and I regretted my impulsive comment. ‘It’s just that there’s all this mystery around you, which makes people crazy. You won’t even do publicity for your films.’
‘I don’t have to.’ His voice remained steady, but with a slight edge. ‘It hasn’t done the franchise any harm. If anything, it’s better this way. The public can’t confuse me with Max Weaver.’
‘But they think you are him.’
‘And that’s a bad thing?’
‘He’s a violent, vigilante womaniser.’
Jay sighed. ‘He’s not real.’
‘Some people think you’re just playing yourself.’ I’d heard the comment on a late-night review show, once. ‘If you gave an interview, you could control the narrative.’
He passed a hand over his jaw, his gaze brightening. ‘Funnily enough, I had been thinking of talking to someone from a magazine here. There’s a writer who’s been persistent, and from what I’ve read, she’s good.’
‘Fleur Dupont?’
He nodded. ‘You probably know her.’
I nearly smiled at the idea of Fleur and me, hanging out together, but my insides were a mass of nerves again. ‘She is good,’ I said, as firmly as I could. ‘She’s probably the best, but she doesn’t know you or where you’ve come from, like I do. I know it’s a bit of a cheek, Jay, but would you consider talking to me for the magazine instead?’
His eyebrows lifted. ‘You work there too?’
‘Um, no, I’m sort of freelance at the moment, but I’ve got a meeting with the editor-in-chief this evening, and if I can prove I know you, he’s agreed to consider letting me do the interview, if you say yes. It’s my shot at a permanent job, you s
ee. I’ll get my own byline, a desk and…. everything.’
Jay was frowning. ‘You’ve spoken to him about me?’
‘I know that sounds bad, but once I knew you were here—’
‘It’s OK, it’s fine,’ he cut in, rather tersely, and I knew that if I’d been anyone else, he’d have walked away by now. ‘So, you came here to get proof that you know me?’
‘Well, and to talk to you, really.’ I twisted the strap of my bag, which had somehow survived me flinging myself at Jay. ‘Obviously, if you don’t want me to interview you, I can just go away, and you can pretend this didn’t happen.’ I felt suddenly sick, and wished we could have carried on flirting – or whatever it was. ‘I’m sorry, I know this is the last thing you need, and considering I’ve just ruined your scene and you haven’t set eyes on me for years, you don’t owe me anything.’
‘It’s just hard for me to trust anyone, especially in the media,’ he said, unsmiling, no doubt recalling the spurious stories that had appeared in the press, during his early career.
‘But it’s not like we’ve never met.’ A flashback to our kiss shot into my head, sending fresh heat to my face. ‘And you would have the final say.’ He hadn’t said no. ‘Nothing would be published that you didn’t completely approve of.’
His gaze stayed on me for what seemed like ages, and I tried to convey all the sincerity I felt and hoped he wasn’t disappointed that I’d been following him with an interview in mind. ‘I suppose I did make a promise.’ His mouth was curving into a smile once more. ‘And I am a man of my word.’
I stared. ‘You mean, you’ll do it?’
‘Jay, we must get a move on.’ The director was back, looking as if he’d like to vaporise me. ‘We’ve got that motorboat scene at two. We’re wasting time here.’
Jay nodded. ‘If I do, you have to promise that in return, you’ll tell me what you’ve been up to since the last time we met.’
‘What?’ The director looked momentarily confused, until he realised that Jay was talking to me.
‘Of… of course,’ I said eagerly, nearly crossing my heart. ‘Anything. Though I’m not very exciting.’ My heart was beating wildly. ‘Really, not very interesting at all.’
‘I’ll be the judge of that.’ His smile wasn’t quite as strong as it had been and, for a second, I wished I could turn back time and not mention the magazine. ‘Come to the hotel in the morning, around ten,’ he said. ‘We can have a chat in my room.’ He slid his shades back on so I couldn’t see his eyes – only my reflection in the lenses. I looked every bit as unkempt, big-haired and dumbstruck as I’d feared. ‘Give me your phone,’ he instructed, holding out his palm.
‘Sorry?’
‘You said you needed proof.’
‘Oh! Right.’
The director huffed and muttered while I fished around in my bag, heart pumping so hard, my chest could barely contain it. ‘Shall I…?’ I fumbled with the password and opened the camera, flipping the screen so my face appeared, bleached out by the sun.
‘I’ve never done this before.’ Jay was beside me now, so close I could discreetly sniff him. He smelt minty, like herbal tea, laced with a hint of warm skin. ‘You’re my first,’ he said.
Another deep blush crept up my face. ‘I’m honoured.’
He wrapped a strong arm around my shoulders, sending such a strong wave of electricity down my spine it was a struggle to stand upright. Susie Houlihan and most of the extras had drifted back and were watching, some of them open-mouthed, as if they’d entered a parallel universe where nothing was as it seemed. Which was exactly how I felt.
‘Smile!’ Bending his knees, Jay pushed up his shades, tilted his head towards mine and made a sideways V-sign with his fingers. ‘Cheesy enough?’
‘Perfect.’ With a shaky hand, I held the phone high, unsure what to do with my face, and snapped a picture and then another for luck. ‘I promise I won’t post it anywhere.’
‘I hope not.’ Turning, he looked right into my startled-rabbit eyes. ‘I hope I can trust you, Natalie Bright.’
Eight
‘I cannot believe you’re going to interview the mighty Max Weaver.’
‘It’s Jay Merino, and neither can I,’ I said, through a mouthful of quiche.
‘Or that you didn’t hang around to watch him escape the lovely Nova’s latest assassination attempt.’
‘I didn’t dare, you should have seen the director’s face.’ I shuddered, recalling Brian’s glacial stare as he’d guided Jay away, making it clear he was nowhere near as forgiving. ‘He hates me,’ I added. ‘And, I think if beheading still existed, the bodyguard would be in big trouble.’
‘Simon,’ said Charlie with a chuckle. ‘You’d think he’d have a tougher name, like Chopper.’
‘He’s still a human being,’ I argued, even though I’d thought the same thing. And I wasn’t entirely sure about the ‘human’ part.
‘This photo’s adorable.’
‘Give it here.’ I tried to snatch my phone off Charlie, but he drew it closer to his face. ‘It’s definitely Jay,’ I said. ‘Can’t you tell?’
‘I’m talking about your face.’
‘Oh God, I know.’ I put down my fork and pushed my plate to one side. As soon as I’d got back to the café, Charlie had taken his lunch break and served up some food, knowing I’d be starving. ‘I look deranged.’
‘Did you know you were pulling that face?’
‘I was smiling,’ I protested. ‘Just a bit too much.’
‘You look happy, but scared.’
‘That’s pretty much how I felt.’
‘The way the sun’s on you but not him makes it look like you’ve added him in.’
‘Oh no, do you think so?’ The last thing I needed was Nicolas Juilliard thinking I’d faked a picture with Jay Merino.
‘Actually, this one’s not too bad.’
He thrust the phone under my nose and I saw that I’d angled my head a bit closer to Jay’s in the second shot, so my face wasn’t as overexposed. An involuntary smile pulled at my mouth. ‘He wasn’t at all what I expected.’
‘So you’ve said.’ Charlie looked at me. ‘You like him,’ he said, sounding slightly awestruck. It was a long time since I’d liked a man in a way that made my pulse race. Even Charlie’s closest friend Ryan from England, who – according to Charlie – no woman could resist, had failed to ignite anything but mild interest when I’d met him over Christmas.
I opened my mouth to argue, but just seeing Jay’s face on my phone had affected my breathing. ‘He was really nice.’
‘Considering you floored him.’ Charlie’s eyes glowed with amusement. I hadn’t been able to resist telling him after all, and had had to wait five minutes for him to stop laughing. ‘Honestly, Nat, that’s a story in itself. Your readers at Expats will love it.’
With a guilty pang, I realised I still hadn’t finished my column. Or started it. ‘I’m not writing about that,’ I said. ‘I’ve still got to convince Nicolas Juilliard to let me do this interview.’
‘Oh, I don’t think you’ll have a problem now Max has agreed.’
‘Jay, not Max.’
Charlie slid my phone across the table. ‘I’ve changed your ringtone to the theme from Maximum Force,’ he said and I tutted. ‘Anyway, you’re two of the things Juilliard likes, from what I’ve read.’
‘And what might those be, Charles?’
‘Attractive, and a bit of a challenge.’
Giselle had materialised at the table next to ours, her shoulders stiffening when Charlie said attractive. He threw her a sunny grin and her face melted into a smile.
‘Still leading her on?’ I said.
‘I can smile at her, can’t I?’
‘Not if it’s giving her the impression you’re in love with her.’
‘If I wanted her to think that, I’d smile like this.’ Charlie tilted his head and arranged his features into a sugary beam that made me dissolve into giggles.
‘That�
�s terrifying, but oddly cute.’ Giselle threw me a dead-eyed look that made me wince. Madame Bisset, who’d been trying to engage Giselle in conversation, shrank back as though she’d had a glimpse of hell.
‘So, what’s the plan with Max?’ Charlie waited while I resumed eating and finished my quiche, which was too delicious to ignore, though I’d sworn I was too hyped-up to eat when Charlie brought it over.
‘You mean Jay,’ I said. ‘He’s invited me to his hotel tomorrow morning.’
‘Oi-oi!’
‘Charlie, stop it.’ I looked around, but no one was remotely interested. Dolly, her hair freshly trimmed and styled into waves, wasn’t even looking our way for once, absorbed in conversation with one of her regulars, Monsieur Moreau. He’d once been a famous violinist, and now came to the café to plan his music lessons (and get out from under his wife’s feet). For a moment, it struck me as odd that peoples’ lives were carrying on as normal, when my own felt like it had shifted. I was full of crackling adrenaline and there was a storm of butterflies in my stomach at the thought of meeting Nicolas later on. ‘I have to work out what to ask Jay,’ I said. ‘I can’t go in without a plan or it’ll end up being a mess.’
‘Maybe he doesn’t want to talk.’ Charlie licked his lips in a lascivious fashion and made revolting kissy sounds.
‘Stop it,’ I said, an image of Jay’s full lips sliding into my head. ‘I expect he could have any woman he wanted, and he probably has a girlfriend tucked away.’
‘But you said yourself, he seemed really pleased to see you.’
‘He did, but probably in the way you’d be pleased to see your kid sister if you hadn’t clapped eyes on her in a long time.’
‘If I had a kid sister, I don’t think I’d be taking selfies and inviting her to my hotel room for a chat.’
‘That’s exactly the sort of thing you’d do with a kid sister you hadn’t clapped eyes on for years,’ I said. ‘And you haven’t got a kid sister, so it’s irrelevant.’
‘Point taken.’ Charlie wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. ‘He could be having a thing with his assassin, Nova.’
‘Susie Houlihan.’
‘Doesn’t that sort of thing happen on location?’