by Paige Toon
‘Drop in the ocean, Nutmeg, drop in the ocean…’
We sit in the living room on huge, comfy light-grey sofas dotted with dozens of muted-coloured cushions and catch up on the last thirty-six or so hours. After a while, Phoenix starts to grizzle – it’s well past his and Barney’s bedtime – so Johnny and I excuse ourselves and take the boys up to their bedrooms. Johnny goes next door with Barney to read him a story, while I feed Phoenix in an armchair overlooking the ocean, listening to the low murmur of Johnny’s voice next door. After a while, Phoenix falls asleep, exhausted. I hear Johnny come out of Barney’s room, just as I’m laying my baby boy into his cot.
‘Okay?’ Johnny whispers from the doorway.
I nod my reply.
I step out of the room and join him in the wide corridor as he takes me in his arms. This first year with Phoenix has been a very different experience to the first year I had with Barney. That year was full of uncertainty and fear. I loved being a mother, but I was living in doubt. I didn’t know if Barney was Christian’s or Johnny’s. I was with Christian – I hadn’t seen Johnny since I fell pregnant. And when I found out that I was, I hoped the baby would be Christian’s, a good, kind man who wasn’t into drink, drugs and shagging around. But months after Barney’s birth, my son started to resemble his rock star father, and I found myself living in a nightmare, knowing that the truth would destroy Christian – and hurt my baby. I didn’t think Johnny would step up to the plate and become a father. But when the truth came out, he did. And devastating as it was for Christian, over the next year we found a way to be a part of each other’s lives again as friends. Now Barney calls him Uncle Christian, and I thank my lucky stars each and every day that he found a way to forgive me – and Johnny. But I still haven’t forgiven myself. I don’t think I ever will. As mistakes go, this one is hard to top.
Johnny pulls away and looks down at me. ‘I’m so glad you’re here. I hate being away from you.’
‘We’ll be able to travel with you a bit more now. It’ll be easier,’ I promise, staring up at him earnestly.
‘I’ve gotta go in for a meeting tomorrow,’ he says. It’s with the execs at his record label. ‘Do you want to hitch a lift and go shopping while your parents are still here to help out?’
I look thoughtful. ‘Actually, Mum might be up for having a look around, too.’
‘I was going to take the bike,’ he says.
‘Oh!’ I laugh lightly. ‘Fair enough. No, I don’t think Mum would be up for squeezing on the back of that.’
Johnny still keeps his Ducati motorcycle in LA. He uses it when he’s here.
‘I’ll organise a car for you,’ he says with a shrug.
My instinct is to tell him that I’ll sort it, but I zip my lips.
We have a PA in Henley, where we live. Her name is Marla, but she’s a mum of three and she only works part-time. I still sort of feel that it’s my job to look after Johnny, even though I haven’t been able to do as much of that recently as I would have liked. Anyway, Marla’s on holiday with her family while we’re here, so Johnny has been trying to help out with organisational stuff. That’s another indication of how much he’s changed in the last couple of years. He used to be a right selfish git.
‘But I do want to get you on the back of my bike again soon,’ he warns.
I feel apprehensive. ‘Let me talk to Mum first. She might prefer to hang here.’
As it turns out, Mum does want to stay home. ‘Go with Johnny! Your father and I will have plenty of time for shopping when we leave you.’ They’re heading to Las Vegas in a few days, and from there, onto the Grand Canyon. ‘You should have stayed in Big Sur for longer. I haven’t seen anywhere near enough of my grandchildren recently,’ she complains good-naturedly.
‘Okay, if you’re sure.’
‘I won’t organise a car, then,’ Johnny chips in cheerfully.
I’m nervous late the next morning as I kiss the kids goodbye and go outside to the garage at the front of the property. My nerves intensify when I hear the loud roar of the Ducati engine as it fires up. I haven’t been on the back of Johnny’s bike for so long. Not since I left LA.
‘Here,’ he says loudly over the engine noise, passing me the shiny, black helmet that was resting on the seat behind him. He nods to the bench-top nearby, where I see a brown leather jacket and gloves.
‘Where did you get these from?’ I shout with a frown.
‘I keep them in storage!’
‘Who for?’
‘For you!’ he shouts back, shrugging his frustration at me.
So long as they weren’t for anybody else…
I pull on the jacket and can smell the leather even over the fumes coming from the exhaust pipe. I screw up my nose and Johnny takes the hint, turning the ignition off.
‘Thank you,’ I say pointedly.
‘Don’t look so excited,’ he replies with a grin.
‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ I ask.
‘Get your arse over here,’ he responds firmly.
I’ve become a bit of a wuss since the kids were born. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to handle this.
I zip up the jacket and hesitantly walk over to him, putting on the gloves as I go. He picks up the helmet and pulls it over my head, fastening it up.
‘I won’t go too fast,’ he promises, his green eyes twinkling.
He flips his visor down to obscure his face and then does the same to mine, patting the seat behind him. I put my foot on the footrest and swing my leg over the back of the bike, clutching onto him for dear life as he restarts the ignition and drives out of the garage.
The first five minutes are absolutely terrifying. After that I begin to relax and enjoy myself. I remember this feeling, actually. This feeling of freedom, of being able to go straight to the front of the queue of cars waiting at the traffic lights, and be the first off the mark as we leave them in our wake. Johnny used to easily escape the paparazzi this way. I can understand how much he loves to ride.
Being with him now, I remember how much I used to love riding with him. It makes me feel young again.
I laugh inwardly. I’m only thirty, for crying out loud. But this is making me feel nostalgic for a time before I had to grow up and become responsible for two little lives. Not that I’d change a thing.
Last night I called my friend Kitty to see if she was free to catch up for lunch. I don’t need to go shopping. I haven’t seen Kitty in person since our wedding, but we Skype fairly regularly. We became pals when I first starting working for Johnny. She was also a CPA – Celebrity Personal Assistant – although she no longer works with actor Rod Freemantle. After quitting, she took a year off and went travelling, and when she returned, Rod helped her to get a job in the film industry. Now she works in PR for one of the Hollywood studios.
‘I’ll pick you up in a couple of hours,’ Johnny promises, dropping me at the curbside. ‘I’ll call when I’m setting off.’
‘Cool, thanks. Have a good meeting.’
‘See you in a bit.’ He flips his visor down and zooms away from me. It’s only when he’s turned the corner that I realise my heart is fluttering. He still gives me butterflies. I take my helmet off and shake out my shoulder-length hair, then I turn and walk up the few steps into the white picketed enclosure that is The Ivy.
The waiter seats me outside at a table for four on the terrace underneath a white umbrella. I’m tempted to put it down so I can feel the sun on my skin, but I don’t want to cause a fuss. I order a mineral water and pull out my ereader, enjoying a rare bit of me-time as I wait for my friend.
‘Are you Meg Jefferson?’ I hear a slightly breathless voice ask.
I turn around, half expecting to see one of Johnny’s potentially demented fans. I burst into laughter when I come face to face with Kitty. What a wind-up merchant. I get up and throw my arms around her. She’s wearing a horizontal-striped black and bronze mini dress with long sleeves, and purple slingbacks on her feet.
‘You look amazing!’ I exclaim. ‘I love your dress.’
‘Thanks!’
‘Don’t comment on what I’m wearing,’ I tell her hurriedly. I feel completely underdressed in my skinny black jeans, T-shirt and trainers. My helmet is on the seat next to me, the jacket slung over the seat back. ‘I had to dress appropriately for Mr Ducati,’ I reveal.
‘Did you come by bike?’ she asks gleefully, pulling out a wrought iron chair and joining me at the table. She used to have a bit of a crush on Johnny. I presume she’s over it now.
‘I had no choice.’
‘Great table, by the way.’
The maître d’ knew who I was. ‘I think he thought Johnny would be joining me,’ I whisper.
She laughs. ‘So when did you arrive?’
‘Friday, but we went straight up to Big Sur on Saturday morning.’
‘Nice! Was it amazing?’
‘Even better than I remembered it.’ I try not to look too smug. I spot the waiter on his way over. ‘What do you want to drink?’ I ask Kitty as he arrives at the table. She glances at my glass.
‘Mineral water?’ she scoffs. ‘Will you have a glass of wine with me?’
My lips turn down. I’m so tempted, but I can’t… ‘Better not,’ I say regretfully. ‘You have one, though.’
‘Um…’ She hesitates, reluctant to drink alone. ‘Okay, sure. House white will do, thanks.’ The waiter goes off and she turns back to me. ‘Why aren’t you drinking?’
‘Apart from the fact that I’m still breastfeeding at night–’
‘Ohhh,’ she says slowly, and I could have left it at that, but I’m already onto the second half of my sentence.
‘…I avoid alcohol around Johnny,’ I finish saying.
Now her expression tells me that she understands. Johnny used to claim that he didn’t have a problem with alcohol – only drugs – but he’s since accepted that he has issues with both. He regularly attends AA meetings, but it helps if the people close to him don’t drink, either. I’m certainly not going to put him at risk by indulging myself, however much he tells me that my abstinence is not necessary. There’s too much at stake.
‘Fair enough,’ she says, her dark-brown ringlets bouncing as she cocks her head to one side. ‘How’s he going with it all?’
‘He’s amazing,’ I say warmly, shaking my head because I still can’t believe it. ‘Did I tell you he’s quit smoking?’
‘No way.’ She looks shocked. Johnny used to pretty much chain-smoke, so this is a huge deal. ‘How did you manage that?’
‘It was all him.’ Well, sort of. ‘It was when I was pregnant. He’d never smoke around Barney or me,’ I’m quick to point out. ‘But the smell of it on his breath used to make me feel nauseous. So he quit,’ I say simply, although it was anything but. Talk about a bear with a sore head. He was a grouch for weeks. Months.
‘Wow.’ She smiles at me. ‘I knew it was meant to be between you two. You’re sickeningly happy, aren’t you?’
‘The happiest I’ve ever been.’ Pause. ‘But enough about me, otherwise you’ll be throwing up in the bushes. How are you? How’s it all going at work? Anyone on the scene?’
‘Funny you should say that…’
‘What? Tell me everything!’
‘There’s this super hot new guy at work. And I love my job, by the way. Anyway, this guy is sex on legs. Tall, slim, dark hair and the most intense blue eyes you’ve ever seen. He’s been flirting with me a little.’
‘Sounds gorgeous!’
‘But he’s only twenty-seven,’ she points out, disheartened.
‘So?’
‘I’m thirty-six,’ she says.
‘And?’
She frowns. ‘Don’t you think that’s a bit of an age gap?’
‘Hell, no! Get in there. Do you socialise outside the office?’
‘We’ve had a few tequilas. He’s been working with me on an upcoming premiere. Oh, I meant to tell you!’ she exclaims.
‘What?’
‘It’s for a Joseph Strike film!’
I freeze.
I first met Joseph Strike about three years ago when I came back to LA for the second time. Johnny wanted to spend some more time with Barney, so I agreed to move in with him, even though the plan was that we would lead separate lives. He was going out with Dana Reed, an absolute bitch of a girl who he met in rehab and got up to all sorts of grief with. So when Kitty persuaded me to start dating again after I met Joseph at a film premiere after party, I was only too happy to oblige.
Joseph was – is – divine. He’s tall with short dark hair, dark-brown eyes and a body to die for. He’d only played a small part in the film we’d been to see, but I remember thinking at the time that he was destined for big things. I was right. He’s a major movie star now, and every time I see his face on a poster, or hear him being interviewed on TV or radio or being mentioned by any one of our friends, I have to hope that Johnny isn’t with me because it puts him in a vile mood.
‘You should come!’ Kitty exclaims. ‘It’s this Friday.’
I laugh and roll my eyes. ‘Johnny would go nuts.’
‘What? Why?’ She looks confused. ‘He could come too,’ she says.
‘Yeah, right!’ I laugh. ‘You know he’s really jealous of Joseph, right?’
She screws up his nose. ‘Is he?’
‘Yeah!’
‘But he’s… Johnny Jefferson!’
‘I know. It’s absolutely ridiculous. And considering how many women he’s slept with… Don’t get me started, it’s actually laughable.’
‘You should come, then! Serve him right.’
‘Nah,’ I brush her off. ‘I wouldn’t hurt him like that. Can you imagine if he went to one of Dana’s gigs?’ She’s a singer, but as far as I know, she hasn’t put out anything new for a while. She must be still battling her old drink and drug demons. ‘I’d go mental. He’d never do that to me.’
Kitty shrugs. ‘Fair enough. Shame, though. I’d love to hang out with you.’
‘We could go to another premiere?’ I say hopefully. ‘One where you’re not working?’
‘Okay, yeah,’ she replies with a smile. ‘I’ll see what’s coming up in the next couple of weeks.’
‘Great!’
‘Shall I say hi to Joseph from you in the meantime?’
A flutter goes through me. Despite how much I love and fancy Johnny, Joseph Strike is undeniably hot. ‘No,’ I decide. ‘He probably wouldn’t remember me, anyway.’
‘He does,’ Kitty says.
My heart jumps. ‘What?’
She grins. ‘He does remember you. I was introduced to him for the first time the other day when he came into the office and he recognised me.’ Kitty was with me when I first met him at the premiere party, and on another date when we all went to a Halloween party. That was the night we slept together.
‘Did he?’ My voice has gone up an octave.
‘Yeah.’ She giggles. ‘He asked if we were still in contact and then said to say hi and congratulations. But I’m sure he’d like to say it face to face.’
‘Congratulations? On what?’
‘On your wedding!’ She laughs. ‘Have you forgotten you got married?’
‘Oh!’ Of course. Now I feel like a bit of a tit.
‘You know he’s totally in love now?’
‘No? Wow! Sorry, every time anything about Joseph Strike comes on TV, I have to change the channel,’ I say wryly. ‘I thought he was a bit of a player.’ That’s the impression I got of him after he became famous, anyway. I’ve lost count of the number of women he’s been papped with.
‘Not anymore,’ she says. ‘Apparently, he’s a changed man.’
‘Well, I’m very happy to hear it,’ I reply with a smile. ‘But Johnny will still flip out if I go to his premiere.’
We giggle and then the waiter comes over again, so we have to focus on ordering.
Even with a longer lunch break, Kitty has to get back to work before Johnn
y returns. I could walk up to Melrose Avenue and have a look at the shops, but I’m feeling too chilled, so I spend my last half an hour reading and drinking a coffee. I look up when I hear the familiar roar of his motorcycle engine. He pulls up right in front of The Ivy and flips his visor up.
‘Shall I come in for a bit?’ he calls to me.
I give him the thumbs up and he switches off the engine, handing the keys to a waiting valet. Before he’s even taken off his helmet, a couple of paparazzi have appeared. He ignores them and jogs up the steps to join me at my table.
Sometimes I get recognised when I’m on my own, but those times are few and far between. It’s been blissful today, basking in my anonymity, no one giving me a second glance as I’ve sat and gossiped to Kitty.
But now all eyes are on us. Johnny touches my shoulder and bends down to give me a kiss on my lips to a soundtrack of camera shots being clicked off. He puts his helmet on the other spare seat and pulls Kitty’s chair closer to mine. The waiter is beside him in an instant.
‘Can I get a coffee?’ he asks, glancing at me. ‘You want anything else?’
‘Go on, then, I’ll have another decaf,’ I reply. I turn to Johnny. ‘How was your meeting?’
He shrugs. ‘So so.’
My brow creases. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing’s wrong wrong,’ he says, staring at me intently. ‘They want me to start recording the new album around the middle of May. It’ll probably take a couple of months.’ Pause. ‘They want me to record it here,’ he elaborates.
‘Oh. Really? You can’t do it back at home?’ I hate the idea of him having to travel forwards and backwards for two whole months.
‘They’ve lined up Mikky Tryslip to do it.’
