Guy could not stop his gaze from falling back to her huge breasts. They remained perfectly pert and as she sauntered towards him.
Panic crept over him. He had to get this woman out of his flat before he lost his resolve.
‘Actually Sonja, my sister called just as I was getting out of the shower and she needs someone to babysit for her, it’s an emergency,’ he lied.
‘What’s happened?’ Sonja demanded, stopping a metre from where he stood and placing her hands on her hips.
Guy dropped his gaze, unable to look at her without staring at the hard points of her nipples.
‘Apparently Carl, her husband, is in A&E and she needs someone to watch Sam whilst she goes to get him.’
‘Can’t someone else do it? We haven’t even started to have fun yet.’ A slow smile spread across her face.
‘I’m really sorry Sonja, I’ve already agreed.’
‘I could wait here for you if you like,’ she said, unwrapping her arms and taking another step towards him.
‘Well actually, Debbie is dropping Sam over on the way.’
‘So I could stay then? Surely he’ll be asleep.’ She reached out to touch his arm.
Come on think, Guy implored his mind. He had to find a way to put her off. ‘Yeah that would be great,’ he began. ‘I’d love some help. Sam’s got chicken pox at the moment and is throwing up everywhere.’
Guy watched the workings of Sonja’s mind as she processed his lie. He had no idea if children were sick when they had chicken pox, but he guessed Sonja didn’t know either.
‘On second thoughts, I’ve got an early meeting tomorrow,’ Sonja replied, smiling tightly.
If she’d guessed he was making up an excuse to get rid of her then she had the class not to point it out, Guy thought with relief, saying a silent prayer to Debbie, Sam and Carl, as he waited for Sonja to get dressed.
Ten minutes later, Guy slid his body beneath the smooth cotton of his bed sheets, his mind racing too much for sleep. He needed a plan this time.
He’d given up far too easily last time he’d seen her; something he couldn’t let happen again. Not if he wanted to spend more time with her, let alone win her back. The thought launched a barrage of nerves in his stomach. It was the first time he’d let himself admit his intentions. Despite the nerves, it felt right.
Seventeen
Loughborough University (5 years earlier)
The remnants of their picnic lay scattered around them as they lay motionless, enjoying the warm rays from the afternoon sun.
Guy opened one eye and stared at the beautiful girl lying next to him. Even with her eyes closed, half asleep, her lips remained fixed in a grin. He could feel the warmth of her bare legs tangled in his; her tiny white dress barely covering a bright pink bikini and the curves of her otherwise slim frame.
Eyes that swim like an emerald sea
Can’t you see, can’t you see, you’re drowning me?
The lyrics had been haunting him for weeks. From the moment he’d walked out half way through his final exam and his days as a student had become numbered.
He’d sat for hours desperately trying to construct another verse, but those two lines had stuck like a scratched CD, stuttering on the same bit of music and driving him crazy.
The feverish humidity of a week-long heat wave had finally drawn it out of him. It had been prickling under his skin for months, but it had taken the inescapable heat suffocating him day and night to surface into his thoughts. Now it was there, he couldn’t think of anything else.
Guy swallowed hard as he felt his stomach curdle. He had to do it, before it ate him alive.
‘I’m going to London Juliet.’ The words left his mouth before he could put it off again.
‘Don’t forget the graduation party is next week,’ she mumbled sleepily.
‘No, I mean I’m moving there...for good.’
She pulled her body up to sitting and pushed her pink sunglasses onto the top of her head.
By some small miracle they had discovered a quiet space in the otherwise heaving park as every person in a twenty-mile radius scrambled to enjoy the weather.
Perhaps more quiet than he’d have liked, Guy realised as the piercing green of her eyes bore into him.
‘What?’ she asked, her voice already wavering with emotion.
He took a breath, unsure if the feeling of asphyxiation had more to do with the humidity or Juliet’s stare. The latter, he thought.
‘I’m moving to London.’
‘But you can’t be. What are you talking about?’
‘Remember that woman who offered me her business card a few months ago?’
‘The modelling thing? I thought you threw that away.’
‘No I was going to, but...,’ he paused, trying to find the words to describe the feeling that had been building inside him. ‘I thought what the hell. I went for an audition last week and they liked me.’
‘Last week? When?
‘Tuesday.’
‘Tuesday,’ she repeated. ‘Whilst I was taking my final exam? And when your phone was off and you told me it had run out of battery?’
Guy didn’t respond.
‘But you’ve always thought modelling was stupid,’ she exclaimed.
‘They’ve found me a job,’ he continued with a shrug, ignoring her comment.
‘I don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell me? When are you going?’
‘After graduation.’ The lie rolled easily off his tongue. He should have told her the truth, but it seemed too cruel to put into words.
In reality, the modelling agency was expecting him in London in two days. His sister had promised him her sofa to sleep on and he’d booked a seat on a coach leaving in just a few hours time. He could have gone and come back for graduation, or even waited until afterwards before moving, but he didn’t want to. It didn’t feel like there was anything left for him here.
‘Guy, why didn’t you talk to me about this?’
‘I don’t know.’
Her large eyes fixed on him.
‘I really don’t. It just sort of happened,’ he added.
‘What about your music? I thought you wanted to stay up here and pick up some part-time work until-’
‘Until what?’ he interrupted, sitting up to meet her gaze. ‘You should see the old timers playing the same pub circuits as me. All old students, all stuck in some hellish office job, all still waiting for a break. I won’t do it. I can’t do it.’
‘Guy you’re panicking, we all are. But you’ve got to hold out for what you believe in. It will happen. You’re too good for it not to, I promise.’
‘For God’s sake Juliet. Wake up will you. This is not a dreamland where everything works out. This is real life.’
He watched her eyes widen at the harshness of his tone. He hadn’t meant it to sound so aggressive.
The silence grew between them.
‘Baby,’ she whispered, ‘I’m sorry, I…I didn’t mean…’
He jumped to his feet. The anger in him exploding out of nowhere, as hot as the sun burning against the back of his neck. ‘You are so fucking optimistic it’s pathetic. Fuck reality. Fuck needing to earn money, that’s not for us then?’’
‘I didn’t mean that,’ she replied, her chest heaving with a sob.
Guy stared down at her as a slow rage unleashed itself within him. He wanted her to argue back. To scream at him for being such as bastard, but he knew she would never do that.
‘What did you mean then? Because it sounded to me like you don’t want me to be successful.’
‘Guy, how can you say that?’ Water began to stream from her eyes, mixing with the charcoal of her eyeliner and running in long black streaks down her face. ‘You’re a fantastic musician, and you’re going to make it, I know it. I just don’t want you to sell yourself short.’
‘It’s modelling Juliet, not McDonalds. It’s a great opportunity to get somewhere. Anywhere but here.’
‘But what’
s wrong with here?’ she sniffed.
‘Everything,’ he shot back, turning away and shoving a bare foot into one of his discarded trainers. He couldn’t look at her face any longer.
‘Wait Guy, I’m sorry okay. I didn’t know you felt this way.’ Juliet took a shaky breath and wiped a hand across her face, leaving long smears of black across her cheeks.
‘You never said anything,’ she continued. ‘But look, I haven’t accepted that design assistant’s job yet. We can have a fresh start. Find a flat share in a cheap part of London. You can do modelling if it’s what you want and I can get a different job. It will work out.’
‘I’m going alone,’ he replied in a low voice, forcing his remaining bare foot into the other trainer as the hatred hammered through him. ‘I can’t do this anymore.’
‘What can’t you do? I don’t understand.’
‘This. Pretending every day that it might be the day I get my break. Watching the doubt and the pity in peoples’ when I tell them I’m trying to make it as a musician. I need to do something else. Be someone else. Away from here and away from you.’
‘No, you don’t mean that, you can’t,’ she cried, clambering to her knees. ‘Why are you doing this? Baby please, whatever it is, we can work it out, I…I can change. We love each other, that’s all that matters, please…’ her voice trailed off into wrenching sobs.
He wanted to turn around and hold her. To cry with her and beg for forgiveness, but he didn’t. He’d only meant to suggest they spent a few months apart, but as the words had left his mouth, he’d realised it had to end. If he was going to start over, then he needed to do it alone.
So instead, he started walking, his body feeding from the anger as he broke into a run. Not stopping to take a breath until he’d taken his seat at the back of the coach.
One week later
Guy stepped into the empty warehouse, two miles walk from High Barnet tube, the last stop north at the end of the Northern line. It looked like the last place on earth anyone would choose to hold a photo shoot.
Two rows of steel pillars ran the length of the warehouse, supporting a windowless concrete ceiling. With the exception of a scattering of damp cardboard boxes, spread around puddles of grey murky water, the space was empty. Only the florescent tubes dangling just below the ceiling, and the huge metal door large enough for a lorry to fit through, allowed any light into the gloom.
He looked down at the dog-eared A-Z map he’d borrowed from Debbie as if the tiny black and white street names might have changed in the last thirty seconds.
‘Hello?’ his voice echoed into the emptiness.
‘Hey man,’ a short man in tight black leather trousers and a t-shirt came up behind him. ‘If you’re looking for the crew, they’re setting up in the car park round back.’
‘Great, thanks.’
‘What do you think of my creation?’ he grinned, waving his hands out into the warehouse. ‘Magnificent isn’t it?’
‘Err yes,’ Guy nodded, looking back into the derelict warehouse just in case he’d missed something. It still looked like an abandoned rat infested concrete block.
‘One of my best. Oh, that reminds me, if you spot Liam on your travels, tell him to get his arse in here with the other bag of artificial dust before I die of old age.’
‘Right, will do,’ Guy replied, stepping back into the sunshine. He was starting to feel like he’d fallen down the rabbit hole. Or jumped down it head first.
What was he doing? Guy asked himself for the tenth time in as many minutes as he negotiated his way around the building, only to come face-to-face with a sprawling hive of activity. Dozens of people dashed around him, in and out of five insanely long and very clean white trailers. They stood alone, with no sign of the vehicles that had brought them there, as if they’d grown up from the cracks in the concrete.
He stood still for a moment, wishing he had somewhere to move to at the same rate as the people pushing past him, just so wouldn’t feel as out of place as a pair of flat shoes in Juliet’s wardrobe. Guy smirked at the analogy, before he remembered what he’d done.
‘Guy,’ a female voice called out in front of him.
‘Sidney, hi,’ he replied with relief as his agent air kissed him three times; another thing in the long list of new phenomenon he had yet to understand since his move to London.
‘How are you feeling?’
‘Great.’
‘Good,’ she smiled. ‘Well come on, it’s this way. You’ll be a hero around here today. You’re the first model to arrive, although you’ll soon learn the power struggles that go on between the models and the crew.’
He felt like an obedient puppy as he followed the tall body of his agent through the maze of equipment and vehicles.
Sidney was unlike any woman he’d ever met. He could only guess that her age fell somewhere between forty and sixty, but with her slim frame and smooth skin, Guy guessed she might pass for thirty from a only a short distance. And despite the fact that she spent most of her days among young beautiful models, she still managed to ooze a level of confidence he’d never seen before.
Guy had only to sit silently beside her whilst she’d furiously fought over his contract with the people from GiGi to know that he had one of the most intimidating and successful agents in London.
‘Ah look, perfect timing.’ Sidney said, coming to a stop by the door of one of the trailers. ‘Here are your hair and make-up girls, Janine and Mandy. Girls, this is Guy.’
‘Hi, nice to meet you,’ Guy said, smiling through another bout of nervousness.
‘Hi Guy,’ the two blondes echoed back.
He could feel their eyes appraising his face, doing some secret calculations he couldn’t begin to understand.
‘So, how much time will you be spending with each model today?’ he asked.
To his surprise, the three women laughed.
‘Guy, Janine and Mandy are your hair and make-up artists. They’ll be working on you alone.’ Sidney explained. ‘By the end of the day, you’ll be running off to the loo, just to get five minutes to yourself. Although, be warned, these two have been known to follow models anywhere.’
‘Hey,’ Mandy exclaimed with a smile. ‘That was one time, and to be fair she was three hours late and hung over.
‘Talking of late, what time are we expecting Lola today?’ Janine added.
Sidney winked at Guy. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said turning to the girls, ‘I warned her GiGi wouldn’t be standing for any of her usual tricks.’
‘Lola? As in Lola Frost?’ Guy exclaimed.
‘Sorry darling. I was waiting until the contracts were signed to tell you. Lola will be modelling GiGi’s new swimwear range. We only had it confirmed this morning.’
‘Great,’ Guy replied. It seemed to be a word he was using a lot recently. When Sidney had introduced him to the GiGi team; when he’d signed the contract and seen the ridiculous amount of money they’d be paying him; when Debbie asked him how he was finding his new life in London. His only response was ‘great’.
Now he was not only meeting, but working with, an international supermodel, and there was that word again, summing up a cocktail of emotions and thoughts in a tiny one-syllable word.
Sidney patted his arm. ‘I’ll leave you in the very capable hands of these two for a little while, but don’t be afraid to ask if you have any questions. Remember Guy, GiGi picked you because you have a totally fresh look, so no one is expecting you to know what you are doing. If you’re not sure about anything, or you need a break, give me a nod. I’ll be here all day.’
‘Thanks Sidney,’ Guy replied, swallowing back the million questions that he could feel lingering on the tip of his tongue. Like, what the hell was he doing as a model? Somehow, he didn’t think Sidney would have the answer to that one.
‘Right. This way Guy,’ Mandy said, as she stepped into the trailer. ‘You’ve got all of this to yourself today,’ she added with a grin. ‘But don’t get used to it. More often t
han not, everyone is crammed into a backstage area the size of broom cupboard.
‘Believe me, until you’ve experienced twenty hairdryers all going at once, you can’t even begin to understand the meaning of the word hot.’
Guy nodded but said nothing as he stepped through a small kitchen and into a seating area. The clean grey leather chairs looked a lot more comfortable than Debbie’s sofa bed. It was hard to take in. This was his trailer. Someone had hired this thing just for him.
‘If you can take a seat here,’ Mandy said, urging him towards a director’s style chair. ‘We can get started.’
‘Yeah of course,’ he replied, moving through to the back of the room, and sitting down.
‘Now sweetie,’ Janine began, coming up behind him. ‘I see you haven’t shaved this morning.’
‘Err no,’ Guy stammered. ‘Sydney mentioned that it would be best-’
‘Relax Guy,’ Janine laughed. ‘I was just going to say thanks. It makes our life a whole lot easier if you leave it for us to do.’
‘Sure,’ he replied, feeling like a total idiot. What was he doing here? He wasn’t a model.
‘Oh and this one is important,’ Janine added with a grin. ‘If you wake up with any spots, whatever you do don’t squeeze them. Don’t even touch them. We’ve got products here that can work miracles, but only if you leave them alone.’
‘Right, will do.’ Guy said, trying to work his face into a relaxed smile.
‘Now sweetie, you just take a load off. You’ll soon get used to us fussing around you, so read a mag or make calls, whatever you like.’ Mandy said, giving his shoulder a squeeze.
‘Thanks,’ he replied, reaching into his jeans for his new mobile. He couldn’t wait to tell Juliet. She would love the endless rows of hair and make-up products spread on the counter in front of him. But just as the tip of his thumb stretched automatically over the keypad, he remembered. Shutting his phone with one swift action, he pushed it back into his pocket.
He’d been doing the same thing all week. They’d spoken so often, it was as natural for him to dial her number as it was to drink a glass of water. Every time he slipped his phone back into his pocket, it felt as if he was cutting off a part of himself.
The Reluctant Celebrity Page 11
