How to be Famous

by Alison Bond

‘No, sorry.’

  ‘What time’s this supposed to get going anyway, do you know?’

  ‘Any minute now, I think,’ said Melanie, just as the hearse pulled into the churchyard, crunching the gravel under its slow-turning wheels.

  Alicia pulled on a pair of Gucci sunglasses and sat back on her chair, pulling her exquisite features into a look of pained sorrow.

  Melanie struggled to maintain her composure. She hoped that any lookers would mistake her look of total shock for sorrow.

  The funeral passed in a blur for Melanie. She could only remember the last time she and Jonathan had slept together, on her return from Indonesia, just about nine months before Joseph was born.

  She watched the coffin being lowered into the ground and was certain, in her gut, that they were burying the father of her child.

  As Lynsey contemplated the fact that this was the first funeral she had ever been to, and that it was for a man she had never met, Melanie’s legs buckled beneath her and she swooned. Lynsey reached out to stop her from falling and couldn’t help wondering if Melanie was putting it on.

  There were a few photographers keeping a discreet distance at the funeral. They wouldn’t have been able to pick Jonathan out in a crowd when he was alive, but they were there for the familiar actors who had attended to show their respects.

  Photographers jumped in front of Melanie as she was leaving and squeezed off a couple of shots, walking backwards, their lenses a few inches from her face. She looked down at the path and walked straight ahead. As they passed them Lynsey heard someone comment, ‘Stuck-up bitch,’ and Lynsey longed to scream at them, ‘It’s a bloody funeral,’ but she didn’t.

  ‘Did you see her?’ Melanie asked Lynsey. ‘She was pregnant.’

  ‘I noticed,’ said Lynsey.

  ‘He told me he couldn’t have kids.’

  ‘Why would he say that?’ said Lynsey, the implications escaping her.

  ‘I don’t know, do I?’ said Melanie. ‘But he obviously can.’

  ‘Not any more,’ said Lynsey. ‘Shit, sorry. That’s a horrible thing to say.’

  They walked on in silence. Lynsey thought Melanie was overreacting. It wasn’t as if Jonathan had been her last chance to have a baby. Joseph was proof of that. Then in that instant she did the maths and got it.

  She stole a look across at Melanie. No wonder she looked so scared. This could get heavy.

  On the flight home Melanie was quiet and troubled. Lynsey had been excited when she was upgraded for this leg of the journey, but she hadn’t factored in Melanie’s current distress. She felt she had to say something. ‘It doesn’t necessarily mean what you think it means,’ she said.

  ‘It does. I know it does. I feel it. Look at him.’

  They both looked at the baby.

  ‘I didn’t know Jonathan,’ said Lynsey.

  ‘Trust me, there’s a resemblance.’ She couldn’t believe that she hadn’t noticed before. Despite the difference in his colouring, Joseph had the same deep-set eyes and high forehead, the same thick wavy hair. Melanie cuddled him with a peculiar intensity, comforting her son for the loss he did not know.

  Lynsey had never seen Melanie show Joseph affection and wondered fleetingly if this crisis would kick-start her mothering instinct. Then Joseph coughed up a little bit of something unpleasant and Melanie broke away and looked repulsed.

  So Melanie was in the sort of mess usually reserved for Jerry Springer. It was a nasty situation, particularly given the way things were between Melanie and Fabien. Fabien was renowned for his easy temperament but this would be a lot for any man. To discover that the child he had loved as his own and taken into his house, mother and all, was not his child at all. Lynsey hated to think of the consequences.

  ‘Are you sure?’ she asked. ‘Because unless you’re sure…’

  ‘I’m certain,’ said Melanie. ‘I feel so stupid. I just believed Jonathan when he said that he’d had the chop. Isn’t that naive?’

  ‘It’s called trusting someone, that’s all,’ said Lynsey.

  ‘Well, maybe it’s naive to trust people.’

  It was not an enjoyable flight. Joseph slept through most of it but when he woke up Melanie had some kind of panic attack and fled to the bathroom, leaving Lynsey holding the baby and wondering how it felt to be so blissfully ignorant of this terrible muddle. Melanie had a gorgeous little boy, with inquisitive eyes and impossibly soft cheeks. When Melanie returned Lynsey told her so.

  ‘Nature makes babies that way,’ said Melanie. ‘Cute. Sweet. So you instinctively feel compelled to protect them. Hence the human race survives. It’s pure manipulation.’

  As they approached Los Angeles they each fell silent. Much to her surprise, Lynsey found herself thinking about Toby. She needed someone to soothe her head after a hectic couple of days, someone undemanding. Her only concern was that he was the sort of man who would probably consider two dates a long-term relationship and she didn’t want to give him the wrong impression. One more dinner and he might start calling her his girlfriend and expecting her to meet his parents or do his laundry, expecting things of her in general. She just wasn’t that kind of girl.

  Melanie meanwhile was wondering how and when she should tell Fabien the news that she was certain would crush him. She was scared of his reaction and, in a flash of what she thought was brilliance, wondered if she could employ a lawyer to do her dirty work for her. Isn’t that the way things worked in Hollywood?

  On the other hand maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to tell him at all. Jonathan was dead so it wasn’t as if he would be knocking on their door demanding access. It would be a malicious secret to keep but would make her life a lot easier.

  ‘Don’t tell anyone,’ she said to Lynsey. About Jonathan, I mean. About… you know.’

  ‘Of course not,’ said Lynsey. ‘And if you want me to come back with you tonight I will.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Fabien’s bound to be upset,’ she said. ‘You might need some support.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Melanie. ‘But I’m not going to tell him tonight.’

  ‘But…’ Lynsey stopped herself from asking how Melanie could possibly watch Fabien welcome his baby home with kisses and cuddles without saying a word. How could she bear it? ‘Okay,’ she said, and left it at that.

  Melanie watched Fabien and Joseph reunited. Fabien was happy again and their peculiar little family was back together. Who would gain, she wondered, from the truth?

  When Riley called the next day Lynsey was caught off-guard. Riley had a way of starting a conversation as a friend before getting down to business. It was unnerving.

  ‘How was your weekend?’ he said. ‘There’s a party tonight for the new Tom Cruise flick, wanna go? Toby will be there. How are you guys working out anyways?’

  She told him a little bit about her weekend, said yes, please, to the party and reminded him that she and Toby were just friends.

  ‘What?’ he said. ‘Like fuck-buddy friends?’

  ‘Grow up,’ she said.

  Then, as seamlessly as the perfect beat-matched mix, he continued, ‘So, the guy that died, he was a friend of Melanie’s?’ said Riley.

  ‘Yeah. How did you know about that?’

  ‘Saw a picture,’ said Riley. ‘He was her boyfriend, right?’

  ‘Ages ago,’ she said, airily. ‘So who else will be at this Tom Cruise party?’

  ‘And that would have been round about the time she was shooting Myanmar?’

  ‘I suppose so. Come on, Riley, do we have to do this every single time we speak? Don’t you have better things to do? Fresh news about people who are alive, for example?’

  ‘Relax, Disco. How old’s that baby she and Fabien had? I’m just trying to work something out,’ said Riley.

  ‘Well, don’t,’ said Lynsey.

  ‘I’m right, though?’

  ‘No comment,’ she said. ‘I thought we were friends.’

  ‘Friends shouldn’t have secrets,’ said Ri
ley.

  Riley did feel slightly guilty, but they had a fabulous picture of Melanie at the graveside that needed some text.

  ‘What exactly are you going to print?’ asked Lynsey.

  ‘Just a picture of Melanie at the funeral and some sensitive sympathies. They must have been very close.’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘Aw, come on, Disco. You gotta give me something. A spokeswoman for Miss Chaplin said… or “close friend”, whichever you prefer. Just confirm it.’

  ‘Sod off, Riley,’ she said. ‘And you can quote me.’ Then she slammed down the phone.

  It was Wednesday. Riley’s magazine didn’t come out until Tuesday. Without an interview Riley wouldn’t leak this to his competition, but if Riley had worked out the dates then it was likely that others had too. She dialed Melanie’s cell but it was switched off. Grabbing her car keys she drove all the way over to the studio to warn her.

  Melanie was in her dressing room trying to drink a cup of coffee without smudging her lipgloss. She was about to send one of the runners off for a straw when Lynsey knocked at the door.

  ‘Hello, darling!’ she said. ‘You couldn’t try and find me a straw somewhere could you?’

  ‘Riley Daniels knows,’ said Lynsey.

  ‘About…?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you tell him?’

  ‘Melanie! No, of course not. But he knows. You have to tell Fabien before he reads it in the press.’

  Melanie hesitated. ‘I’ve been thinking maybe I won’t tell him. He loves that boy, you know? Like he was his own child.’

  ‘That because he thinks he is his own child.’

  ‘Let me ask you,’ said Melanie. ‘Who would you rather have fathering your kid? The man who’s been there since the day he was born, or a dead guy who just happens to be the natural father?’

  ‘Melanie, Riley knows.’

  ‘I’ll deny it.’

  ‘What if Fabien wants blood tests?’

  ‘He won’t. He trusts me.’

  Lynsey could see the line between friend and client coming up fast. There were red flashing lights and bells warning her not to cross. There was a neon sign that said ‘mind your own business’ and another one that said ‘don’t get involved’.

  ‘You have to tell Fabien,’ she said. ‘It’s not fair.’

  Melanie gasped for breath and looked horrified. Lynsey wondered why and then realized that Melanie was looking not at her but past her.

  ‘What’s not fair?’ said a sexy male voice in her ear.

  Of course, Fabien was right behind her.

  ‘Tell me what?’ he said.

  Melanie pressed her fingers to her temples. This wasn’t happening. If she tried hard enough perhaps she could turn back time. She squeezed her eyes shut but when she opened them Fabien was still standing right there, looking confused and concerned. She took a sip of coffee and wiped away the foam, smearing her lipgloss across her face. ‘Okay, Lynsey,’ she said. ‘I think we’re done here. I need to talk to Fabien.’

  Lynsey stood outside the dressing room. The low hum of voices continued inside. It played out like a musical number. First the muffled voice of Fabien asking questions, then the softer-sounding Melanie made her replies. The voices ebbed and flowed, louder for a moment and then quiet again until, like the rousing crescendo of an opera, it was only Fabien. And he was mad. Lynsey couldn’t quite make out his words but his deep tones reverberated like bass on a dance floor. She didn’t consider this to be eavesdropping exactly, more like standing guard. Protecting their privacy. Oh, who was she trying to kid? She was gagging to know what was being said.

  The door flew open and Lynsey jumped back as Fabien came out fast. ‘One more thing,’ he said to a quivering Melanie behind him. ‘I want you both out of my house within twenty-four hours.’

  ‘Where will we go?’ said Melanie.

  ‘That’s your problem, sweetheart. Because you just stopped being mine.’

  Melanie stood frozen in the doorway. Her mouth was open, waiting for the words to bring him back, but when nothing came she pressed her lips together.

  Lynsey briefly saw her look of utter helplessness but as Melanie turned to her it changed to fury.

  ‘What have you done?’ cried Melanie. ‘What the hell have you done?’

  ‘Me?’ said Lynsey. ‘I haven’t done anything!’

  ‘You had to tell your stupid hack friend, didn’t you? You can’t keep your big mouth shut.’

  ‘I didn’t tell him, Melanie. I promise you, I didn’t tell him.’

  Melanie couldn’t think straight. There must be some way to undo all this, to make it better. ‘He has to forgive me,’ she said. ‘He must. What can I say?’

  With shock, Lynsey realized Melanie was waiting for an answer. ‘I don’t know,’ she said.

  ‘Well, think, damn it!’ said Melanie. ‘Go after him. Tell him… I’m sorry. Tell him I’ll do anything.’ Tears choked her eyes and her vision swam. She grabbed onto the flimsy door frame and tried to focus. All she could see was Lynsey looking at her with unmasked pity. She slumped down onto the step and the tears fell.

  Lynsey ran to her instinctively and tried to get her back inside. Several crewmembers were hovering in the vicinity, watching Melanie’s breakdown with mild amusement.

  Once inside with the door closed firmly behind them, Melanie stopped crying and Lynsey attempted to fix what was left of Melanie’s make-up. She tried to make all the right noises.

  ‘He hates me,’ said Melanie.

  ‘He’ll calm down eventually,’ she said. ‘It was just a shock.’

  ‘You don’t know him. We’ve argued before. A lot. But nothing like this.’

  ‘At least you told him the truth,’ said Lynsey.

  ‘You should have heard him, Lyns. Honestly. He didn’t even give me a chance to explain; as soon as I told him he went out of control. He was shouting and screaming, totally irrational.’ Melanie stood up, acting out the scene. ‘He was standing over here and he shouted something in French and I told him to shut up and then – bam! – he was right up here next to me and I swear to God I thought he was going to hit me. There’s a lot of things I could tell you about him, you know? A lot of things about his lifestyle that you don’t know. That nobody knows. I could ruin him. And if he tries to ruin me then I swear I will. I will.’

  Melanie paused for breath and there was a knock at the door.

  ‘Fifteen minutes, Miss Chaplin.’

  ‘Okay,’ Lynsey replied and they listened to the footsteps walk away.

  ‘I can’t possibly go out there,’ said Melanie.

  ‘Of course you can,’ said Lynsey. ‘I’ll go and get makeup and we’ll touch up. You’ll be fine.’

  ‘I mean it. I can’t. You’ll have to tell them I’m sick or something. I won’t do it. I can’t.’

  ‘Melanie, don’t do this. I know you’re upset but half the crew saw you and Fabien fighting, they’ll know you’re just being a –’ She stopped.

  ‘Go on,’ said Melanie. ‘Being a what?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘No, really. Being a what? A drama queen? A diva? Is that what you were going to say?’

  ‘Melanie, I –’

  ‘Go and get make-up,’ she said. ‘Then book me into a hotel. A good one.’

  Lynsey breathed a sigh of relief and got to work.

  ‘With a nanny service!’ added Melanie as an afterthought.

  The following Tuesday Junket contained a story about Melanie Chaplin attending the recent funeral of her ex-boyfriend. Alongside the photograph of Melanie at the graveside was a shot of Jonathan Ellis next to one of Joseph a few weeks after he left the hospital. Fabien Stewart declined to comment.

  A letter was hand-delivered to Melanie the next day from Fabien’s lawyer asking Melanie’s consent for paternity tests. The letter stated that if Melanie withheld her consent the law could force her to comply.

  When the results came back they conclusively prov
ed that Fabien Stewart was not the father of her baby.

  Lynsey swiftly tried to organize Melanie into some kind of life. A life which revolved around temporary hotel rooms and a temporary nanny. It was not a happy time.

  The hotels that Melanie deemed suitable charged extortionate rates but Melanie didn’t seem to care. Lynsey had a good overall sense of Melanie’s finances and worried that she was overstretching herself with a suite at the Four Seasons. But as Melanie refused to consider any hotel of lesser standing there was nothing that Lynsey could do to shield her from a weekly hotel bill which was more than double Lynsey’s monthly wage. When Lynsey saw how much she’d be paying the nanny she briefly considered a change of career. An infant might well be less demanding.

  During this time Melanie insisted that Lynsey was available to talk to her around the clock. She said it was because she was so busy. Lynsey thought that she was lonely and battling with her self-esteem.

  The reaction of the British press had been brutal.

  Melanie’s public image was at an all-time low. Rather surprisingly, then, she found herself pursued by photographers wherever she went. Lynsey had to switch Melanie’s hotel three times to avoid the hordes of British paparazzi that clustered outside waiting for the shot that could accompany the latest attack on her character. In America the story went nowhere, but back in England the tabloids celebrated her fall from grace and gleefully blamed America for turning one of their own into an overblown star who lied. It was the fame, they said, that changed her.

  Lynsey read every story on the internet and tried to protect Melanie from the worst of them. But she knew that Melanie, like the true masochist she was, had her sister fax them over directly.

  But next to every bitchy story was always a little phrase: ‘… hotly tipped for Oscar nomination…’

  The latest angle on the story was that Melanie had deliberately timed the controversy to coincide with the release of her movie and attract maximum coverage. It was over a year since they had completed filming and after numerous delays a cut of the film which satisfied both Davey Black and Bob Rosenburg had finally been delivered. Lynsey was worried about the effect Melanie’s new reputation as a heartbreaker might have on the film but the marketing department considered the Melanie Chaplin scandal a gift. A film that had started off as a marketing nightmare, with no stars and a political storyline, suddenly had a hook. They didn’t care that she was famous for being a bitch. They just cared that she was famous.