Rekindling Love (British Billionaires Series)

by Sorell Oates

  “Rupert?”

  “What?”

  “Susan starts what?” quizzed Imogen, confused.

  “Nothing. You were right. I'm hung over, feeling bad about my behavior and blaming the first person to come to mind, who for once isn't you.”

  “Do you want me to cook you a fry-up? A proper English breakfast? Black pudding and fried bread as well?”

  “Go on, how can I say no?”

  Rupert was grateful she left the room, not because he was hungry but because he had the sudden dawning realization that he might be in love with Susie. Might be falling for her. Why had he cut every woman out of his life at Susan-Marie Thompson's suggestion? He'd fallen for her once. Could he want to rekindle the romance with the brassy, fat girl with a heart of gold from fifteen years ago? Was she still the same girl? Was he still the same boy? Love was one complication too many. He loved his family. That caused enough heartache and pain. To include someone else in his heart was too trying. Doing good was better executed in his professional life than his personal. His personal life was in ruins. If he wanted to do Susie a favor, she'd have to go down the same road as Liz, Jacqui, Jasmine and Mikaylah.

  CHAPTER 13

  Sitting in the chair opposite her dressing room mirror, with the obligatory lights around it, Susan knew the room was nowhere near as glamorous as people imagined it to be. Even the person assigned to the room was unglamorous. Sweaty, her hair falling from the pony-tail set high on her scalp. She thought of the term “Croydon-facelift” which was the British slang used to describe the hair style because it was commonly adopted by those of a lower social-economic bracket from the South London area and did indeed, tighten the skin to iron out every wrinkle as a facelift did. Her t-shirt was drenched and her leggings were sticky from the non-stop dancing. Susan was desperate to work on the songs where she could have a break from the constant physical exertions of dance.

  The mirror with the light bulbs around the perimeter was the feature of her private space. Her seat was standard, made of metal with thin, red vinyl over foam. She did have the added bonus of a small coffee table, with a miniature bar fridge and two small comfortable cushioned chairs with arm rests. The paint was cream and peeling. What made it home were the photos she put up of close friends and the odd soft toy and gift she’d received. Imogen's flowers were now dying in the vase. Withering, Susan would soon have to part with them.

  I can't believe I'm scared to call him, thought Susan. I'm supposed to be the one in control. I'm the mastermind. If that is true, why won't I punch in the number.

  Bravely plugging the numbers in, she dropped her phone when Dylan walked into her dressing room. It scattered in pieces. Bending down to pick them up, she felt a strange wave of fear in Dylan's presence. Dylan was fond of her. He was safe. An old friend.

  “How'd it go?”

  “Rupert wasn't well. He had to go home early.”

  “Didn't go as planned?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Did you arrange a second date?”

  “No. He was ill. It wouldn’t have been appropriate there and then.”

  “Clock's ticking Susan-Marie.”

  “I know Dylan. Don't go on about it.”

  He looked hurt by her tone of voice. “I wasn't trying to badger you.”

  “I'm sorry, I know you weren't. He wasn't well. It's never nice to see anyone in that state.”

  “No, it's not,” replied Dylan meaningfully.

  Susan knew he was referring to the opening night of Hairspray when he'd bravely entered the female dormitories at Brighton College to find Susan with a bottle of vodka and packet of paracetamols in her hand. Had she really thought that was her only way out, or was it a cry for attention? Dylan got there to stop her. Under other circumstances he'd have readily shared the vodka. But he was a senior at eighteen, Susie was a junior and was a month off her sixteenth birthday. Responsibly, he'd disposed of the alcohol and drugs and hidden the contents, in case the dorm mistress was to search her room.

  “However much you loathed me Dylan, if you found me in that state I don't believe you'd want to hurt me.”

  “But I don't loathe you Susan-Marie. I never did.”

  “I know. I'm just saying. I need to reassess my initial plan.”

  “There's no longer an 'us' involved in the plotting then,” he acted as a pantomime baddie.

  “Sorry Dylan. I'm frazzled.”

  “Rehearsals going well?”

  “Yeah they're fine. Is that why you're here? To see if I'm performing to standard?” she roasted.

  “Of course not. I came to see you.”

  “Or came to see how the date went?”

  “Both. I don't want him hurting you again.”

  “I told you he won't hurt me again.”

  “He's taken ill for one night and you're playing nursemaid to him.”

  “How the hell would you know?”

  “Because I called your phone. Imogen picked up to inform me you were searching the medicine cabinets for Rupert.”

  “Are you spying on me?”

  “I. Was. Concerned. About. Your. Safety,” he enunciated.

  “I. Am. Fine,” she mimicked back.

  “I'm glad. Call me when you're in a mood to be friendly.”

  Dylan slammed the door. Susan couldn't figure out if she was angry at him or herself. Picking up her cell phone, which Dylan had carefully put together, she punched in Rupert's number.

  “Susie.”

  “Rupert. How are you feeling?”

  “Hung over.”

  There was a silence that stretched. Susan was confident. She got on stage in front of thousands every night. Suddenly she couldn't find a word to say. Should she mention the twins or not?

  The wordless minutes were as painful for Rupert as they were Susan. He decided to put her out of her misery. “I wanted to thank you. Calling Imogen, keeping her company, going to the chemist, escorting me home. I'm grateful. And I am sorry for what I did to you with Nikki.”

  “I know.”

  “Are we at peace with one another?” he asked.

  To Susan's ears he sounded very unlike himself. Do I even know him now to be making that assessment? From what he said last night, I know nothing about him. I thought at school we'd been as thick thieves but never had he let on about the family tragedy. Essentially he was a stranger to Susan and always would be. They hadn't even been in the same year at school. What did they know about each other? What did they even have in common?

  Rupert was a tortured soul, but it wasn't her job to save him. Dylan was the boy who rescued her. Rupert had been the boy to break her heart. In the grand scheme, her loyalties were not sensibly invested in Rupert. Yet after everything, she was drawn to him. His complications. His ability to love. Could she truly forgive him? Could she be at peace with him?

  “I think we are,” she replied absently.

  She terminated the call.

  CHAPTER 14

  It had been Imogen who picked up the tale. She'd not asked Susan what Rupert revealed. When Imogen burst into the flat like a mercenary ready to take out whoever harmed her brother, Susan found herself raising her arms above her head as a criminal sprung by a law enforcement officer.

  “Why's he passed out?” she interrogated, blue eyes darting suspiciously to Susan.

  “He necked half a bottle of scotch in one go.”

  “And you let him?”

  “Imogen, he's six feet tall, works out every day. How could I possibly stop him?”

  Imogen studied her old school acquaintance. She was a healthy size eight and though toned, was not muscular. At five foot four, she wouldn't have been able to administer a lot physically to prevent her brother from his recent boozing.

  “Did he say what upset him?”

  It was Susan's turn to decide how to handle the delicate family matter.

  “He mentioned your twin brothers.”

  “Did he mention I'm adopted?”

  Susan s
hook her head.

  “Will you help me lug him to bed?”

  “Of course,” whispered Susan.

  Equally determined, two tiny women lifting a dead-weight drunk was next to impossible. Rupert woke enough to stand and sway, as they took an arm over each shoulder. He staggered to his bedroom like a zombie having just risen.

  Spiraling out from under his arm, Imogen gave him a huge shove, which sent Susan flopping on the bed with him. Crawling out from his limbs, she gave Imogen a scowl.

  “It's typical of my luck. It takes fifteen years to get Rupert into bed and he's comatose.”

  “The course of true love never did run smoothly.”

  “If I wanted a cliché, I'd buy a card from a gas station.”

  “Fancy an Irish coffee?” proffered Imogen.

  “I'm not sure. I've rehearsals tomorrow and my call time is in the morning.”

  “Then have one,” she insisted.

  “The caffeine will keep me awake.”

  “The whiskey will soothe your throat.”

  “Alright, I can't argue with that,” grinned Susan.

  They sat in companionable silence. Neither saying a word, but there was nothing uncomfortable in the atmosphere. In fact, the environment gave solace.

  “I was just over three when mum and dad adopted me. Funny what money can buy, because it was less than a month after Lucas and Leith died that I joined the Locke-Smythes. Rupert calls me his angel because I saved the family. From what I gather, when the twins were taken, Mum had a stomach bug. Dad lashed out at her. He claimed since it wasn't life threatening she should've made the effort to go to the beach with them. If the entire family was there the tragedy would never have occurred. Mum's counter argument was as strong. She claimed because it was only a tummy ache, that dad's obsessive need to check on her was unwarranted. Had he accepted it was a twenty-four hour bug, the three boys wouldn’t have been left in the care of a stranger. He would've been there to protect them.”

  “And Rupert?”

  “Rupert never said a thing. He calls us his three little angels. Two are in heaven and I'm his guardian angel.”

  “He adores you.”

  “He does, but this angel needs to spread her wings.”

  “To fly to New Jersey or will you take a jet?” probed Susan in relation to Imogen's feelings towards NFL New York Jets player Hank.

  Imogen flipped her middle digit at her new friend.

  “Rupert's never told me about Lucas and Leith. Not the full story. Neither did mum and dad. If he confided in you, and let's be honest it's complete emotional carnage here, it's a step forward. Dad offered therapy, but Rupert was insistent his energies be invested in me, mum and dad. As long as he did that he had a purpose and he'd manage his grief. But with all those billions it has been a struggle for him.”

  “I realize that now.”

  “I'm not saying you haven't struggled Susan.”

  “Not in the way that Rupert has.”

  “In fairness, how would I know to compare the trials and tribulations of your lives? We weren’t close at school. This is the second time we've met in fifteen years, but I know he chose you to talk to. That must mean something. Maybe after all these years of standing in the wings of the theater, his angel will step forward.”

  “Imogen. You're getting ahead of yourself. Seeing Rupert tonight, in that state, hearing his story was heartbreaking, but it can't change how my heart beats and it cannot turn back the hands of time.”

  “Sometimes I wondered if I was a replacement. A second-rate member of the family. A distraction to serve as a deterrent from the death of Lucas and Leith.”

  “Imogen, no—”

  Imogen raised a hand to cut her off.

  “Then I realized without them I would have no parents, no home and no love. No one could replace the twins. They adopted me to raise me. To be parents to me. To love me. Unquestioningly. Without consideration for my parents' background. They just unconditionally loved me as their own daughter.”

  “You were blessed, but so was your family. You carry their love with you in your day-to-day activities.”

  “Yes, but what I'm trying to say is. It does go to show that it is possible to love someone regardless of their past.”

  “You were a child. You weren't responsible for your birth parents' choices.”

  “Rupert was eighteen. He was a child. Can you hold him wholly responsible for his treatment of you? Doesn't his lack of life experience, his immaturity, his own insecurities in some way reduce the impact of his despicable behavior? Isn't it easier to love someone than hate them?”

  “Our decisions have an impact. We have to take responsibility for them. Whatever age and whatever our excuses.”

  “I wasn't a wallflower as a child. Just because mum and dad and Rupert chose to tell me nothing of the car accident, it doesn't mean I didn't eavesdrop. I was cunning enough to hide to hear what I needed to piece the jigsaw together. I heard Rupert on his knees every night praying for forgiveness. Rupert made a choice which way to travel on that island. Should he be held accountable for the decision made as a six-year-old that continues to echo with him throughout his adult life?”

  “Imogen, I'm not here to fall out with you.”

  “Nor I you. I'm hoping you might look to explore your heart to find something for Rupert.”

  “I can't force what I don't feel,” said Susan edgily.

  “No you can't, but you can't not force what you do feel either.”

  “Imogen, I love you. If Rupert had a shred of your compassion and empathy, my heart would open like a flower. He doesn't.”

  “He does. He needs someone to help him open his heart.”

  “That burden shouldn't be with me.”

  “I saw you dancing in the rain,” she said boldly.

  “What?”

  “You and Rupert. That Saturday at school, outside the auditorium. I saw you dancing in the rain. I saw how he looked at you. I saw how he held you. If anyone took me in their arms and danced like that, I'd fight for them. I wouldn't run away because I couldn't deal with facing one destructive shard of the past.”

  Susan wrapped her arms to hug Imogen close. “That's the problem Imogen. I'm not you. Running away is the only way I could deal with it.”

  On that note, Susan left the building. Passing a twenty-four hour pharmacy, she was unable to stop herself from popping in to pick up medication to assist Rupert in the morning, should he suffer any severe symptoms from a hangover. Instead of returning to the flat, she asked the man on reception to take the medication up as soon as possible, then flagged a cab to her empty apartment.

  CHAPTER 15

  No Dylan. No Rupert. No Imogen.

  As much as she loved the cast, Susan had never felt lower. She was certain it was affecting her performance, but she knew if she failed to launch the new musical the damage to her career could be disastrous.

  She knew she could've picked up the phone to Dylan at any point, but nothing urged her to do so. The only urge was to concentrate on work to erase all thoughts of Rupert Locke-Smythe.

  Every time her phone alert sounded she was hoping it was him, but each time she was disappointed. Working Saturday wasn't unexpected, particularly with previews so near. It was the Sunday break filling her with fear. Given her personal distractions, spending it with David, Fiona and Miller, who had no family or friends in the states, would be beneficial, but she was sapped of energy.

  “At least come for drinks,” said a voice from the door.

  Looking up, she saw Dylan. Flinging her arms around his neck, she burst into tears.

  “Don't tell me you missed me that much.”

  “Actually I did. I didn't mean to snap at you. It's been emotional highs and lows. I'm not coping. Didn't know what to do with myself.”

  “Susan-Marie this is not meant to be 'Mission Impossible'. I said I'd help you so you wouldn't be left in this situation. Why didn't you call?”

  “Because I swore an oa
th I'd never beg for a man after Rupert.”