by Talli Roland
‘It’s Jay!’
Oh, good. He could help her practice some songs, maybe even choreograph a few new moves. Already her cheeks were heating up at the thought of his hands on her swivelling hips.
‘Great news!’ Jay dropped a kiss on her cheek and pushed into the lounge, taking his usual place on the sofa.
Willow squeezed in next to him, his spicy cologne enveloping her. ‘What’s that?’
‘Tickets are selling like wildfire for Marilyn Mania. We’ve already got posters up and press releases have gone out.’
‘Wow! That was fast.’ Jay’s efficiency was so impressive. She’d definitely made the right choice signing on with him.
‘Thanks, babe. And even better . . .’ He raised his eyebrows and looked at her expectantly.
‘What?’ Willow wondered what could be ‘better’ than a Hollywood psychic.
‘I’ve just heard from Dean Denner. He’s in!’
‘Who?’ The name didn’t sound familiar, but she wasn’t exactly up on today’s celebs. If it wasn’t for Paula, Willow might not have even heard of Simon Cowell.
‘Dean Denner! The famous John F Kennedy impersonator. He’s a giant in America – all over the place, actually. He was even on Oprah last year.’
‘Oh, fab,’ Willow said, trying to sound excited. What was she supposed to do with him?
‘You two will perform the closing number for the concert. You know, the Happy Birthday song.’
Willow nodded. ‘Great!’ At least she had the lyrics down to that one.
Jay smiled and slid a hand onto her thigh. ‘We’ll talk specifics tomorrow. Right now, I just want to be with you.’ His lips met hers and Willow leaned into the gentle kiss. God, it was nice to be with someone again. Someone to talk to, someone who wanted what was best for her.
But what would happen when she’d made enough money to stop being Marilyn?
Willow pushed away the thought. She’d cross that bridge when she came to it. Anyway, if Jay really did care for her like he seemed to, he’d understand. For now, she just wanted to enjoy the feeling of his mouth on hers.
‘So, do you think you might be ready, maybe, to move this upstairs? To the bedroom?’ Jay asked softly after a few minutes.
Willow met his dark eyes and a warm feeling flooded into her. ‘I’m ready.’
*
The next morning, Jay glanced over at Willow, noting with relief she was still asleep. Even without all the make-up and padding, she wasn’t a bad-looking girl, and the sex had been slightly better than expected. It had been so long since he’d had a shag, though, he wouldn’t have cared how rubbish it was.
Grinning triumphantly, Jay pulled on his carefully laid-out suit. He knew he’d get Willow into bed; extend his influence over her after pushing the other bloke out of the picture. He’d done the same thing with Jorgie, too, and it had worked wonders until the contract fiasco.
Well, that wouldn’t happen with Willow, Jay thought, creeping down the stairs and easing past the kitchen where that fat American and Willow’s doddering old dad were eating breakfast with the radio blaring.
First things first, he had to make this festival a massive success. It was a real coup, getting Dean Denner on board. Dean would show everyone this was the big leagues – or as big as you could get in the world of impersonation. Apart from Oprah, the impersonator had even met Obama himself and was pretty much worshipped in America, for God knows what reason. He’d be the perfect partner for Willow on-stage.
As Jay hurried back to the pub for a quick change of clothes, he caught sight of the broad from the hair salon – and her perfectly shaped arse. Time to cash in that rain check, baby, he thought, brushing the lapels of his jacket and quickening his step. Once he told her he was a big London agent, she’d roll over right there. Hell, he’d even throw in a free ticket to the festival. Jay patted his pocket where he stowed the wad of tickets and cash. Punters were practically throwing themselves at him to secure their entry, and he was only too happy to take their money – and keep all of it for himself.
‘Hey, baby.’ He shot her a mega-watt smile.
‘Hi, there.’ The woman grinned and Jay’s groin hardened in response. He couldn’t wait to get on top of her.
‘Ready to redeem that rain check? I know a place where we can have some privacy, get to know one another better . . . ‘ He slid a hand up and down her arm in a way guaranteed to drive women crazy.
She smiled coyly through lowered lashes. ‘I don’t go anywhere with anyone before proper introductions.’
This one had spirit! When he finally did get her into bed, he could only imagine how feisty she would be. ‘We haven’t been introduced, have we? I’m Jay Bellamy, a London agent. You might have heard of the new Marilyn.’ He stuck out his chest. ‘Well, I’m her representative.’
The woman’s eyebrows flew up. Ha! He knew that would seal the deal. Another one bites the dust.
‘You’re Willow’s agent?’ Her expression wasn’t admiring, though. It was more like . . . disgust, the kind of look his mother gave him when he forgot to clean Bunny’s cage.
‘Yes. Why? Do you know her?’ Jay narrowed his eyes. Willow didn’t look like the type to hang with a rock chick, but Belcherton was a small place. Just his luck, trying it on with someone who knew Willow. Everybody in this bloody village was probably in-bred, anyway.
‘She’s my best friend,’ the woman practically hissed, and Jay backed away and started toward Willow’s house again, heart pounding. Shit. Well, now that he’d slept with Willow, he had the advantage. He’d slip back in and have a word about her so-called best friend, make up something to turn Willow against her.
This place was doing his head in.
Jay let himself into the Watts’s house and ran up the stairs, sweat beading on his brow. Bursting through the bedroom door, he could hear Willow’s mobile ringing. He lunged for the phone, ignoring her surprised yelp as he knocked it out of her hand.
‘Don’t answer that!’ he said, breathing hard.
‘Why?’ Willow yawned and Jay glanced away, disgusted. He preferred to see women after they’d done themselves up – and not before.
‘I just overhead a reporter on the street say they’re going to pose as an old friend, and catch you out to prove this whole Marilyn thing is a farce,’ Jay answered glibly. ‘That could be them now. It wouldn’t be too hard for the media to ask around and get your mobile number.’
‘God.’ Willow’s eyes were wide. ‘Thanks for the warning.’
‘Actually, I think it’s best if you give me your phone, and I’ll take all your calls from now on,’ he continued. ‘That’s the usual thing with my clients – I’d hate for one random reporter to ruin all our hard work.’
Willow nodded and handed him her mobile. ‘That would be terrible.’
Christ, the woman was gullible. It was almost like taking candy from a baby. Jay tucked the phone in his pocket. ‘I can give you a new secure mobile, which you can use for personal business.’ When hell freezes over. ‘But for now, I’ll screen your calls and pass on any message. Sound good?’
‘Yes. Thank you.’ Willow yawned again and Jay tried hard not to show his revulsion.
‘You’re welcome.’ He kissed her quickly on the cheek. Right, now for the tricky bit. ‘And I’d be careful with your friends, too. No-one likes to think it, but they can get jealous with sudden stardom. They might try to warn you away from people; make up stories to bring you down . . . I’ve seen it all.’
‘Paula would never do that,’ Willow said, pulling the blanket up around her. ‘In fact, she encouraged me to go for it.’
‘I’m sure she did,’ Jay said, telling himself to tread carefully here. ‘But sometimes, when people are jealous, they behave differently.’ He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. ‘I’m just warning you. Remember: I’m the one with your best interests at heart. I’m here for you, no matter what.’
Closing his eyes, he lowered his lips onto Willow’s and rolled on top of her, trapping her
under his heavy body.
*
Betts ran a hand through her curls and sighed, squinting at the permissions and planning in front of her. She’d been staring at the pile of paperwork for hours and was no closer to getting through it than when she’d started. That Jay hadn’t told her how much work all this involved.
Betts shook her head, thinking how funny life was. A few months ago, she never would have imagined herself here in England. And now she was helping organise a Marilyn Monroe festival! The past few days had been so hectic, she’d barely even had time to wonder how the kids were doing. It wasn’t that she didn’t care, but with her own priorities now, it was obvious she’d spent way too much of her life revolving around them – and Gord, of course, until he’d taken off.
Was that why Marilyn had been so important – because she’d had nothing else of her own? Lucy and Tim always mocked her love for the idol, but Betts had just pushed aside their laughter without really giving it much thought. Her mind flashed to the Marilyn shrine back home. Betts would sit there for hours, surrounded by photo after photo of the icon while her husband and kids piled up the demands.
‘Cup of tea?’ Dickie’s deep voice interrupted her thoughts and Betts looked up into his smiling face, heart melting. In all the years she’d been with Gord, he’d never offered her anything other than dirty socks to wash. Dickie was exactly the kind of man she wanted in her life; someone who thought of her, who cared about her.
Her mouth dropped open at the realisation that Dickie wasn’t just the kind of man she wanted – she wanted him. You silly, silly woman, she scolded herself. Look what you’ve gone and done now, falling for someone who’ll never feel the same way. But wait, why was he staring at her like that? It was almost like . . . almost like . . . oh!
Betts’s thoughts faded away as Dickie’s firm lips met hers and his hand touched her waist. With Gord, she’d always taken a step back so he wouldn’t make fun of her extra ‘blubber’, as he called it. But Dickie’s arms were encircling her, drawing her closer.
Maybe she hadn’t been so silly, after all.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CISSY PEERED THROUGH HER binoculars, watching as men swarmed across a distant field like ants. One group was erecting a tent, while others unloaded those hideously green portable toilets into a row by the southern fence. She zoomed in even more. Lord, there were dozens of workers! A huge crowd must be expected for this Marilyn fest.
Ever since spotting the advertisement that American had posted, Cissy’s brain had been spinning with ways to stop the festival. Unfortunately, nothing had yet come to mind.
She shook her head as workers set up metal fences around the site perimeter. Surely one couldn’t just take a field in the countryside and use it for a massive festival – all in the space of a week. Wouldn’t there have to be proper planning permissions, village meetings, festival licences granted? That certainly couldn’t be accomplished in such a short period of time. The agent might be a con man of the highest order, but he couldn’t perform miracles.
Cissy thumped the binoculars onto a cabinet. She’d call the council and give them an earful about what was happening here. Once they found out what was going on without their approval, they’d be sure to shut down the concert. Flicking through the White Pages, she found the number and dialled it carefully on her old rotary phone.
‘Oh, hello,’ she said when someone picked up. ‘I’m calling to report a possible breach of council regulations in Belcherton.’
‘Oh yeah?’ the woman on the other end asked, snapping her chewing gum loudly.
Cissy sniffed. Didn’t they teach these youngsters manners anymore? ‘It’s on Morgan’s Field, in Belcherton. I don’t believe they have proper permissions and licences to hold a musical event, as such, in that locale.’
‘Is that the Marilyn Mania Festival?’ The woman sounded bored. ‘Yeah, we know all about it – in fact, the council’s providing funding to Belcherton for the event. Thank you for calling the council line, goodbye.’ She hung up.
Cissy stared at the dead receiver. She shouldn’t be surprised – money talked, and if that lowlife had promised the local area a windfall, it was in everyone’s interest to get involved.
She hobbled back over to the window. The enormous stage was in place and the workers were unrolling a large canopy over it.
What was she going to do now?
*
Squinting in the falling darkness, Willow ran through the sheets of lyrics yet again. Sure, it was only memorising words and it wasn’t like she was actually singing, but she was terrified she’d forget a line. After all Jay’s hard work setting things up, she didn’t want to let him down.
For the millionth time, their night together popped into her mind. Sleeping with someone besides Alex had been nice but . . . different. After all the wonderful kisses, Willow had expected to feel the same explosion of emotion. But Jay wasn’t Alex, she reminded herself. She was older now, too, and more realistic about relationships. That closeness would come with time.
A knock on the door made her jump. Maybe that was Jay now! It was almost nine, and Jay was supposed to come by to run through the programme one more time and make sure she was ready. God knows she could do with a pep talk.
‘Oh, hi!’ Willow smiled over at Paula, pushing aside the small jab of disappointment it wasn’t Jay. Today, Paula was wearing leopard-skin trousers with an oversized neon vest, and her hair was pulled to one side in a banana clip circa 1985.
‘Why haven’t you answered your phone?’ Paula asked grumpily, tossing herself onto the sofa. ‘I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all day. We’ve got to talk.’
‘Oh, sorry.’ Willow sat down beside her friend. ‘Jay suggested I give him my mobile so he could screen my calls, just in case the media try to get through – or something like that.’ Whatever he’d said, it had sounded reasonable at the time. ‘I guess he’s busy with the festival and hasn’t had time to answer.’
‘I’ll bet,’ Paula mumbled. She turned toward Willow, her normally animated face serious. ‘Look, Wills, I know Jay’s your agent and everything. Just . . . be careful not to get too involved with him.’
‘What do you mean?’ Willow’s heart dropped as Jay’s earlier warning flashed through her head.
‘Well, he could be a good agent,’ Paula said. ‘But he’s a complete horndog.’
‘Horndog?’
‘Yeah, horndog. He tried to pick me up – twice!’
Willow shook her head. ‘I don’t believe you.’
‘I know you guys have snogged and stuff, but Wills, I’m telling you the truth. He came into the salon and asked me out about a week ago. I thought he was kind of cute and I had no idea who he was, so I flirted back.’
Willow forced a laugh. Jay had probably been his usual charming self, and Paula had thought he was after her like most men. ‘I’m sure Jay was just being friendly.’
‘Friendly?’ Paula snorted. ‘Friendly is saying hello, not practically propositioning me on the street like he did yesterday morning.’
Willow stared at her friend in disbelief. Now she knew Paula wasn’t telling the truth – Jay wouldn’t have left her bed the moment after they’d slept together and hit up another woman! Even horndogs – whatever those were, exactly – wouldn’t do something so low. And Willow was certain Jay cared. He was the one who said he’d been searching for someone like her for a very long time; who took every opportunity to kiss and touch her.
Sadness washed over Willow as she tried to absorb the fact that her best friend was trying to sabotage her future, exactly as Jay had predicted.
‘I’m sorry if you’re jealous. All of this should be happening to you, not me. But I’m committed to doing it, and even if I did drop Jay now, I’m not going to stop. Making things up isn’t going to help.’
Paula’s lips lightened and Willow could see from the flash in her eyes that she’d hit a nerve. ‘I’m not making things up!’ Paula sputtered. ‘And I’m not jealous
. Well, maybe I was a bit at the beginning, but watching you deal with all these people, having to dress up 24-7, and not even being able to move without signing something – that’s so not my idea of a good time. I’d much rather be me.’
Willow wanted to believe Paula’s words, but Jay’s warning kept ringing in her head.
‘But that Jay . . . Do whatever you want career-wise, but don’t get involved with him. He’s a total sleaze.’
That was the last straw. ‘He’s not sleazy!’ Willow cried. ‘Not at all.’ She stood and faced her friend, anger churning inside. ‘Not every man wants to be with you, you know.’ Willow’s heart was pounding so fast beneath her tight dress it felt like the seams would burst.
Paula’s mouth flopped open and an incredulous laugh bubbled out. ‘You know what? If you don’t want to believe me, don’t. I hope you and Horndog are very happy together.’ She jumped up and slammed the door so hard the whole cottage shook.
Willow sat down on the sofa and tried to breathe. She couldn’t remember the last time she and Paula had fought – in fact, she didn’t think they ever had. But they’d never really had a reason to. Willow had always been happy to take the backseat and let Paula be the leader. Now that Willow was the one standing out – and dating the hottest man Belcherton had seen in fifty years, if ever – it was clear her friend was having difficulty handling it.
A rogue tear spilled down her hot cheek and Willow wiped it away, grimacing at the muddy foundation coating her finger. God, she really needed some fresh air; to get away from everything and everyone. She hurried into the loo, then splashed cold water on her face, watching the liquid turn brown as the make-up dissolved. Pinching off fake eyelashes, Willow rinsed the heavy mascara from her eyes and twisted blonde curls up into a ponytail.
In her room, she shed the silk sheath and kicked off her high heels, then pulled on baggy jeans and a soft old T-shirt. Without her additional padding, she felt surprisingly light and free – despite the extra five pounds or so she’d put on from Jay’s eating scheme. After jamming on her trainers, she went out the back door and into the darkness, careful not to disturb Krusty or alert the crowd that gathered out front hoping for a glimpse of her.
