by E V Darcy
She sighed. ‘I got married at eighteen. I was stupid and thought I was in love. I ran away and got hitched to the first guy who said he loved me; turned out he just wanted someone easy to control, so they’d be a good little housewife while he carried on living a Jack-the-lad life, drinking with his friends, screwing around, and throwing every spare penny at whatever horse, dog or match he’d had a hot tip on that week.’
‘And he didn’t get that with you at all,’ Marc laughed, but when she failed to return the laughter he sobered up. ‘Really? You?’
She nodded solemnly. ‘I was young; I didn’t want to admit I’d been wrong—that my grandfather had been right about Andrew all along. He and my mother hadn’t liked Andrew when I brought him home with stars in my eyes at seventeen. Forbade me from seeing him, which only made me run off with him three months later, when I turned eighteen, to marry him.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Marc offered, reaching out to gently squeeze Ellie’s arm. She laid her hand over his and squeezed back.
‘When my granddad became ill, I went to see him in hospital. He could see I wasn’t happy, asked me about it—never once said I told you so, only that I should come home. When he got out of hospital he got me a solicitor, got the divorce sorted with very little stress to me. I’m sure he paid the bugger off in some way.’
‘Sounds like a good man.’
‘He was. He died not long after the divorce was settled.’
‘I’m sorry. Did you then go to university? Did you study Sign there?’
‘No, I studied languages; I’ve always picked them up very easily.’
‘How many do you speak?’
‘Five, not including English. French, German, Italian, Russian and, of course, BSL. I’m not fluent in ASL, but—as you can tell—I know enough to get by. I’m trying to learn Mandarin too, but it’s very different. Marie speaks seven—BSL, French, German, Spanish, Finnish, Greek and Swedish.’
‘Fucking hell!’
‘Do you think we’re all stupid fan girls now?’
He blinked for a moment and then burst out laughing. ‘Are you still pissed about that?’
‘You do know that a lot of the women here are very well educated? I’ve met doctors, lawyers, teachers, engineers, in addition to housewives who are members of Mensa. You can’t judge someone by the TV shows they watch.’
‘My God, you are still pissed about that.’
‘I just don’t understand why you think the convention is stupid.’
‘Really?’ he challenged. ‘Do you know how many of the same pathetic stories I had to sit through today in that autograph line? By the end of it I had seven people come up and tell me that I saved their lives. I mean, what the fuck? Another half dozen told me I gave them the strength that they needed to do whatever it was they were prattling on about— What?’
Ellie sat with her mouth hanging open as she took in what he was saying. How could he not understand? Clearly, he had never had a moment so low in his life that a TV show was all he could look forward to.
‘You are such an arsehole. If you don’t know what’s wrong with everything you just said, then you’re a bigger dick than I ever gave you credit for.’ She stood up and grabbed her bag. ‘I’ve got to go.’
‘Oh c’mon!’ he said and reached for her wrist. She stared down at the contact with contempt before meeting his eyes. ‘I don’t do anything to save them, or give them strength, I just act on a stupid show to keep me sane.’
‘I don’t know if you’re just too conceited or just really lucky to not understand their reasons, but know this’—she snatched her wrist back— ‘to some of those fans you so despise, that you feel are silly, stupid, or just plain pathetic, you are a reason for them to still be alive whether you like it or not. Destiny may be the only thing they have to look forward to. So when they tell you their story, you damn well better smile and say thank you, because if you shit on them, you could be the reason they’re not here next year.’ She turned and walked toward the door to the suite.
‘I didn’t ask for that responsibility!’ he snapped and stood up to pursue her retreat. ‘I didn’t take on the job to be a life saver, I didn’t want to be Oprah or Dr Phil, I just wanted to— to escape the real world! I didn’t ask for people to pin all their hopes on me, to make me the focus of their fantasies. I didn’t ask for them to make their world revolve around me!’
As she opened the door she paused and turned around. ‘You might not have asked for it,’ she spat, furious at his arrogance. ‘But you got it, whether it’s a blessing or a curse is up to you. With great power, comes great responsibility; you have fame and you have to take on the weight that comes with it.’
‘Seriously, you’re quoting Spiderman at me. You do know that I lost out on that role to Toby McGuire.’
‘You’re pathetic.’
‘And you’re just like everyone else—thinking you know me, when really, you haven’t got a clue.’
She let the door close behind her.
~ ~ ~ ~
‘That man is insufferable!’ Ellie shouted as she tried to slam the door to Mallory’s suite. ‘And why the hell can’t you slam a damn door in this place!’ She glared at the slow-close mechanism at the top of the door.
‘To ensure other guests aren’t disturbed by deranged women slamming them,’ Marie drawled as she watched her friend. ‘C’mon in and tell us all about it. Oh, B.T.W, Trent is here.’
‘Use the words, Marie,’ Ellie muttered as she followed the girl into the suite’s sitting room. Mallory greeted her with a Martini, which she gladly took and swallowed in two gulps. The other girl raised her eyebrow as she took the glass back from Ellie and poured her a new cocktail.
‘So you must be Ellie?’ a deep voice asked from behind. She turned around to see a handsome man, lounging with his arms splayed across the back of the couch, a glass of whisky in one hand. He wore a shirt and tie, but the tie was loosened and the jacket to his clearly expensive suit had been discarded. The top button of his collar was undone and his salt and pepper hair—that Ellie imagined had been styled immaculately earlier—was slightly ruffled. Yet, for all this dishevelment, the man still looked a million dollars.
For some reason, it pissed Ellie off.
‘And you must be Trent,’ she said rather shortly.
‘Whoever pissed in your Wheaties, don’t put the blame on me,’ he said, raising his glass of scotch at her.
‘What the hell does that mean?’
‘It means stop glaring at me as if I’m the one you’re angry at.’
She blinked and took the new drink that Mallory nudged into her hand.
Thank you, she signed.
Marc not everything you thought he would be? Mallory asked.
‘Oh, he was everything and more. He’s a total tit,’ she said as she sipped her drink and Marie interpreted for her.
‘He can’t have been all bad,’ the lawyer reasoned. ‘You were there for hours.’ She glanced at the clock and realised it was only just after ten. It felt like a lot later.
‘Come on, dish it,’ Mallory joked as she took her seat next to her fiancé.
Ellie took another sip of her drink as she looked about the room for somewhere to sit, but her eyes landed on Marie who looked eager to lap up any gossip on one of the stars. When she glanced at Mallory, the same curiosity was in her gaze. Even Trent looked vaguely interested.
I didn’t ask for people to pin all their hopes on me, to make me the focus of their fantasies. Marc’s words floated through her mind and made her pause. He hadn’t told her those things in the hopes she’d gossip about him all night. Actually, no, he probably did expect her to go running to the girls and dish all the dirt. She could picture his smug face at being proved right; that she was just like everyone else.
Damn that bastard.
She sat down heavily on the chair and glared at her drink. What could she say anyway? He’s a fantastic father, but just doesn’t get what fandom’s all about? They could probably
see the former, and everyone knew the latter.
In all truth, Ellie wasn’t even entirely sure their argument was all his fault.
Dammit.
She shouldn’t have snapped so quickly. Why hadn’t she actually tried to explain to him what people were telling him? And was he really completely wrong in not wanting to hear those stories? How would she feel hearing over and over again, that without ever meeting someone before, she had somehow saved their life?
Bollocks.
‘Ellie?’ Marie pressed.
‘Nothing really.’ She sighed loudly. ‘He was just as arrogant as I expected once the kid was in bed.’
‘Oh, well that’s disappointing. I was hoping he’d have at least tried to have snogged you.’
‘Marie!’
Mallory burst out laughing and threw a cushion at the blonde.
We said we wouldn’t ask!
You were wondering as much as I was! Marie signed back. The two girls stared at each other for a moment before Mallory finally glanced at Ellie and said, ‘Well did he?’
‘No!’ Ellie exclaimed.
‘Shame,’ Marie pouted and Ellie couldn’t help it, she laughed.
The four continued with good nature into the evening, and by the time Ellie finally got to bed she had forgotten all about Marc Matthews.
Mostly.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Saturday
What’s up with Papa? Tyler asked Frank that morning, as he watched his father stomping around the suite. The bodyguard wasn’t the best at signing, tending to use Pidgin Sign than actual ASL, which was difficult for Tyler to understand—but at least Frank was able to communicate with him in some way.
Not sure, I thought he’d be rather happy this morning.
Why?
Didn’t you have a slumber party last night with Ellie?
When Tyler frowned and answered back, No, Frank merely said, ‘Ah.’
Did he want Ellie to sleep over and she said no? He should have said please. The bodyguard chuckled and ruffled his hair.
Ah, Tyke, if only everything was as easy as you saw it. That puzzled Tyler even more. Unless—maybe Ellie was like Daniel and didn’t want to stay because he was deaf. The little crinkle in Tyler’s brow deepened. That’s a very thoughtful face, Tyler.
Do you think she didn’t stay because I’m deaf?
Frank’s face softened and he pulled the boy up onto his lap. Now, why would you think that? When Tyler didn’t answer he continued. Ellie signs for the deaf.
‘Oh’. Tyler’s voice was hushed as he tracked his father’s progress across the sitting room from the bedroom corridor. His papa was saying something over and over again that looked like the naughty word Sonya used when crap wasn’t bad enough.
Also, Frank went on, Ellie thinks you are the cutest kid in the whole world—told me so herself. Tyler’s mouth grew wide with his grin. He really liked Ellie too, and she was definitely the prettiest woman his papa had spoken to. He was sure his papa thought so, after all he had hugged her and Papa never hugged anyone other than him. Maybe Papa had wanted to hug and even—yuck—kiss Ellie and she’d said no. He puckered his lips as he thought about that.
I want to watch Papa work today, he suddenly declared.
Frank narrowed his eyes at Tyler’s announcement but then smirked as if he knew what his little mind was planning and agreed with him.
Tyler beamed back.
CHAPTER NINE
‘What are you doing?’ Robson asked Casey, as the British actor nudged open the frosted doors that led to the conservatory, just enough to peer through.
‘Seeing if there’s anyone worth pulling up to the stage this year,’ he replied as he shifted slightly to get a view of the other side of the room.
‘Did last year teach you nothing?’ Tony called to his co-star.
‘Hey, nothing happened!’
‘You settled out of court, Casey. The network warned you any more—’
‘Yeah, yeah, I know, they’ll kill me off.’ The Brit waved the other actor away and Tony sighed before he turned his back on his co-worker.
‘You’re forty-three, Casey, when are you going to settle down?’ BB asked as the stagehands finished helping her into the mic pack.
‘Fuck that,’ he scoffed. ‘I have no plans to ever— Hey, Marc, what’s the kid doing here?’ He eyed Tyler who was seated on a stool with Frank and Sonya; she was once again attached to her phone. ‘Did you not trust your team after yesterday?’
‘Of course, I do. He wanted to watch me work,’ Marc replied as he tried in vain to attach his mic to the lapel of his jacket. He let out a frustrated growl. ‘Can someone please come and fix this for me?’
‘Why’d the munchkin want to do that?’
‘I don’t know,’ Marc sighed as a stagehand ran over and started to pin the little device. Marc had no idea why they needed mics for a VIP panel in a small restaurant. Surely, the twenty or thirty VIPs would be able to hear them fine, mic free, from their little makeshift stage. And why couldn’t they just use the handheld ones?
‘All done, Mr Matthews.’
‘Are you—’ Marc looked down in disbelief at how quickly the man had fixed it. ‘I mean, thank you.’
‘Seriously, though, did you make him come with you after yesterday?’ Casey continued. Marc ran his hands through his hair, uncaring that it ruffled all Jen’s hard work on taming it. Jen had thought the same as Casey and the only way to get her off his case had been to send her out to find a new phone for Ellie. The evening may not have made them friends, but he always kept his word.
‘No, Casey, I told you, he asked to come with me. This is supposed to be our time together after all.’
‘Okay you lot, hush up,’ Crystal directed them and shooed Casey away from the double doors. ‘Most of you know the drill by now, but for the newbies’—she sent Marc a wink—‘this is how it goes down. You get announced one by one; when your name gets called the doors open, you come out, give a little wave or whatnot, walk down the aisle and onto the stage. Your microphones will be on from the moment you walk out!’
‘Yeah, don’t forget again, Nick.’
‘Screw you, Casey.’
Marc rolled his eyes at the two of them; it was well known by the actors that there was little love between the two ever since Casey had slept with—and deflowered—Nick’s sister at her eighteenth birthday party in the middle of season three. It had taken both Marc and Luc to get Nick off Casey that night. The older actor had had to be written out of two episodes while his face healed. It was lucky Nick was an angel and Casey a demon on the show, so the two didn’t often have scenes together when they weren’t at each other’s throats.
‘We’ve changed it slightly this year.’ Crystal glared at Casey for a moment before she continued, ‘I’ll be the one leading in there; I’ll be picking who gets to ask a question and there are to be no invitations from any of you for attendees to come up on stage. Clear?’
The actors muttered their agreement, with Marc bobbing his head, slightly confused at why there would be a need for anyone to come up anyway. He was more than happy to keep the fans as far from him as possible.
‘What exactly did happen last year?’ Marc asked Luc as Crystal left them and headed through the doors.
‘Tell you later,’ Luc whispered back as the convention organiser started calling their names. It took Marc a moment to realise they were being called, alternating between the show’s angels and demons. Finally, it came down to Luc and Marc, the two titular men of the show, the Archangel and the Devil.
‘See you in a moment—don’t forget you’re not a dick.’
As the doors opened to let Luc out, Marc caught a glimpse of Tyler directly opposite. Tyler must have spotted him much earlier as he was sitting at the bar on a stool with two thumbs up and a big smile on his face. Before Marc could return the gesture the doors closed again as Luc made his way through the audience.
‘…And this year, for the first time ever,
the Morning Star, Beelzebub, the devil himself, please give a warm welcome to Lucifer played by Marc Matthews!’
The doors swung open and this time, he looked directly at his son who grinned back. Marc smiled back, threw him a wink and then moved out into the room, into the mercy of the audience. He was just thankful this panel was much smaller than yesterday’s and he had the others to back him up.
He tried to smile as he moved through the room but was sure he failed spectacularly as he stepped on stage and allowed Luc to wrap him in a one-armed hug. His friend whispered. ‘Relax’.
‘Okay I’m going to start the ball rolling myself because I’m sure everyone one is dying to ask you,’ Crystal said into her microphone as she stood amidst the breakfast tables. A wave of chuckles rippled around the room and Nick laughed as Tony rubbed his head. ‘What’s with the chopped locks, Nick?’
Marc watched the room carefully; he hadn’t liked the idea of Tyler joining him here. The less exposure his son had to the fans the better in his opinion, but he could very rarely deny his son anything. Frank stood next to him and was keeping a vigilant eye while Sonya… was playing with all her devices again. That morning, she’d snappily told him he wasn’t her only client, nor her biggest, at which he’d reminded her it was her fault they were there in the first place.
As Marc’s eyes glanced back over the audience, he caught the now familiar faces of Ellie, the-mouthy-one, and then the-quiet-one-with-the-lawyer-boyfriend.
The-mouthy-one was signing for the-quiet-one, while Ellie was laughing at something Nick was saying about his new hairstyle. Marc, though, had heard the story and wasn’t buying it—and Ellie was paying Marc no heed at all.
But that was a good thing, right? That was exactly what Marc wanted. After the way their evening ended he had barely slept, worried it was going to be all over the internet—he wouldn’t put it past the-mouthy-one. Or maybe the cops were going to show up and accuse him of sexual assault, even though he hadn’t done anything. He’d heard of that happening to a couple of guys from other shows. And Casey.
