No Matter What

by Michelle Betham

  Charley breathed a sigh of relief that India must have heard because she smiled, laughing slightly.

  “Jesus, Charley, were you that scared of me?”

  “You have no idea how nervous I was. You’re such a big star now and I haven’t seen you for so many years … all I knew about you was what I read in the magazines and saw on TV. I didn’t know if you were the same person anymore because … because so much has happened.”

  “Yeah, you could say that,” India said, still smiling. She was as relieved as Charley was if the truth be known, because she’d had no idea what she was going to say to her until she’d opened her mouth, but it had suddenly been so easy. What was there to gain in bearing grudges? It didn’t get anyone anywhere. They’d been best friends once, who’s to say they couldn’t be that close again?

  Charley looked at India and they suddenly both started laughing, all those years of not speaking to or seeing each other just disappearing as they laughed like they’d used to back when they’d shared that small but comfortable little flat in Newcastle-upon-Tyne. Back when they’d had nothing and could only dream about things that were happening to both of them now.

  “Shit, India! I can’t believe you’ve won all those awards, married a Hollywood actor, our idol is your best friend, you own loads of huge bloody houses and make movies for a living! It’s crazy!”

  India just smiled, putting her own coffee down and getting up, dragging Charley up too, giving her a huge hug, holding onto her tight as she tried not to cry. She finally had her old friend back, and she’d never known how much she’d needed that. She’d never really known, until today. “I’ve missed you so much, Charley. I didn’t realise how much until now.”

  Charley thought she was dreaming. She’d have been happy just for India to acknowledge that she was around but for this to have happened, this was more than she could have hoped for.

  “I’ve missed you too, India. I’ve really, really missed you.”

  India wiped her eyes as they stupidly started filling up with yet more tears. She was so emotional these days, it was ridiculous. “Ok ... how long have I got ... hang on a second, Charley, I’ll just give Bobby a call.”

  While India called Bobby, Charley picked up a magazine that was lying on the table next to her and flicked through it. It was one of those celebrity filled magazines that they’d always used to pick up on the way to work all those years ago and read on the bus. Only this time India was in them, this particular one being no exception. She was featured a couple of times; once with Michael – a picture of them on the set of the movie he was directing in L.A., smiling at each other and quite obviously in love - and another picture of her here in Vegas, with Kenny. It was a paparazzi shot of them leaving a bar, his arm around her shoulders as they talked. Their relationship was such a strange one for anyone else to understand because they said they were just friends, but then pictures like that one could well be interpreted otherwise.

  “I’m ok for a while,” India smiled, sitting back down opposite Charley. “Bobby’ll let me know when they need me. So, you and Vince, huh?”

  Charley looked up, putting the magazine back down on the table. She smiled. She always seemed to smile whenever anyone mentioned Vince.

  “Yeah. Me and Vince. Who’d have thought?”

  “Come on then. I want to know all about it. How did that happen then?”

  Charley told her everything, from the drug addiction and her move to Vegas, to her career as a showgirl and everything that had led to her relationship with Vince, and India found herself really happy that they’d found each other. Genuinely happy. Charley needed a steadying influence, someone to really love her, and Vince had needed to find a woman he could finally settle down with. That they’d found each other was a perfect coincidence.

  “Anyway, enough about me,” Charley smiled, desperate to know all about her famous friend’s life. “What about you? Reece Brogan is your dad? How mad is that?”

  India smiled too. “Yeah, tell me about it. It’s a long story, Charley, but I’ll tell you everything later, I promise.”

  “And Michael Walsh ... how the hell did that come about?”

  India pushed a hand through her loose blonde hair and looked down into her coffee. “He was there for me after my divorce from Kenny and, you know, he was like this amazing person who just listened to me and let me go on and on about everything I was feeling and he never once judged me or lectured me or … well, one day you just find yourself in love with somebody.” She looked up at Charley. “And one day I found myself in love with him. With Michael Walsh. My husband.”

  Charley had watched her almost visibly flinch when she’d mentioned Kenny. Just for the briefest of seconds, but Charley had seen it. Maybe their relationship was more complicated than anyone really knew.

  “So, what’s it like being married to someone as famous as Michael?” Charley asked, keeping the subject well away from Kenny.

  India looked up again and smiled. “He’s incredible, Charley. He’s so funny sometimes, just like he used to be in his early films, the ones we used to watch, remember? But he doesn’t act like he’s famous. He cooks, he makes coffee, he cleans up the bathroom after a shower, it’s all pretty mundane, really.”

  “What? Even the premieres and the parties?”

  “Not all they’re cracked up to be. Sometimes we both just want to curl up on the sofa and watch television like any other ordinary couple, and we do that, of course we do, just not as much as we’d like to.”

  Talking to Charley now, it felt as if they’d never been away from each other, like the past hadn’t happened, and there was so much India wanted to tell her. There was so much going on in her head that she couldn’t talk to Kenny or Bobby about and having Charley around would make things so much easier. But maybe it was too soon for all of that just yet.

  “Is everything ok?” Charley asked. It might have been a long time since they’d sat down and talked like this but Charley still knew her best friend. She could still tell if something was wrong.

  “Everything’s fine.” India looked down into her coffee again.

  “How’s Kenny?” Charley hadn’t been able to stop herself from asking the question. She was too curious about India’s reaction. And the question made India look up sharply.

  “Kenny?”

  Charley nodded.

  “Kenny’s fine.”

  She looked distracted now. As good an actress as she was there were some things she couldn’t hide.

  “Do you want to talk?” Charley asked.

  “About what? Honestly, Charley, everything’s fine ... listen, how do you fancy coming over to the villa tonight? We can have a proper catch-up. Unless you’ve got other plans?”

  Charley shook her head and smiled. “No. I’ve got no plans. And I’d love to come over.”

  India smiled back. “Great. That’s sorted then. I’ll get Bobby to organise dinner and make sure the bar’s are re-stocked. How does champagne sound?”

  Charley couldn’t help laughing again. “Christ, we’ve come a long way since our anything-we-could-afford-from-the-corner-shop days. Champagne sounds just perfect, thanks.”

  “Then champagne it is. Got a bit of a taste for it myself, for my sins.” India got up, and Charley followed her as they went back outside. “Come on then, Ms Miles.” She linked her arm through Charley’s, pulling her close. “Let me show you round this movie set and introduce you to Bobby, my personal assistant and extremely close friend. You’re going to just love him ...”

  ***

  Vince hadn’t gone straight to his meeting, he’d hung around because he’d seen India approach Charley without her realising and he’d needed to see that outcome.

  They’d disappeared into India’s trailer for about twenty minutes and he’d waited, wanting to see what happened when they came out, but when they did they were both laughing like nothing had ever happened, arm in arm, looking just like the friends they’d used to be and Vince breathed a sig
h of relief that came straight from the heart. Because knowing Charley was happy was all that mattered to him these days. He’d known how much she’d wanted India back in her life and it seemed like that was now very much back on track. There’d be stories in the press, of course, there were bound to be, people knew they had a past, but they’d deal with that. They’d dealt with worse.

  And now all of that seemed to be sorting itself out, Vince could finally move onto another problem that was preying on his mind. One that still involved India, but one that she must never, ever know about. He still wasn’t entirely sure if he was right about what he thought was going on but it had now become a priority job for his security team to make sure his fears were confirmed before he did anything about it. He had to be sure. He couldn’t just go on in there all guns blazing without knowing the facts. But once he had those facts he’d make sure it ended straightaway. It was his right to put a stop to anything he didn’t want going on inside his hotel, and whilst he really had no right to prevent anything going on outside of it, he was making it his right with this. People were going to get hurt and more lives were going to be damaged if he didn’t, and that included those of his two closest friends, and he was going to do everything in his power to stop that from happening. He had to. As soon as he knew what was going on he was calling Michael Walsh. And telling him everything.

  ***

  Layla had almost forgotten just why she was supposed to be making a play for her director because she’d now become almost entirely consumed with a passion to hurt his wife. She didn’t like India Walsh, and it was quite apparent that India didn’t like her. Well, that was her problem. India thought she had everything; the fame, the career, the famous husband. Layla didn’t like the way she’d almost looked down on her, the way she’d made smart remarks. But she’d show her. She’d take the things that India loved away from her, and she could do that. Starting with her husband. Because Layla Boyd got everything she wanted and she wanted India to hurt. But Michael Walsh was proving to be a very hard case to crack, he just didn’t seem to go for girls like Layla and yet, she couldn’t see why. She wasn’t so different to India, was she? She was a good few years younger though, and that had to be a plus.

  So Layla Boyd had a new mission in life. She wasn’t used to being put down, and she wasn’t used to not being liked, especially by people like India Walsh. In her opinion India needed a reality check, she needed to realise that, as perfect as people may think she was, Layla thought otherwise. So she’d continue to get closer to Michael, she’d continue to do everything her mother had told her to do, but Layla had another plan, a back up incase all else failed. There was no reason for her to carry it out other than the fact she didn’t like an actress who had everything she wanted, but it had become something Layla needed to do. And if Michael Walsh wouldn’t fall for her very obvious charms – and she was sure he would if she pursued him enough – then the next best thing was to make his wife think that he had.

  CHAPTER 42

  Michael was getting ready to fly to Vegas after what had felt like the longest week of his life. The days had been tiring and long but it was all worth it because everything was coming together just how he wanted it to. They were ahead of schedule and on track to finish earlier than planned if they carried on like this, which was why he was taking some time out to visit India. He was tired but he was happy and, unusually for him when he was making a movie, he was relaxed. Even Layla had dropped the diva act, which had made him a touch suspicious at first but he’d decided not to question it. As long as she was doing what was required of her that was all that concerned him. The fact that she was actually starting to be a pleasure to have around was a bonus.

  He was packing up his things in his trailer when there was a knock at the door.

  “Come in.” He picked up his car keys and put them in his pocket, looking up as Layla walked in.

  “I just wondered if you fancied a drink,” she smiled, producing a bottle of vodka from behind her back. It was almost three-quarters empty and by her demeanour it was obvious she’d had the majority of it herself. “It’s been a long day and I noticed you were still here.”

  “I thought you’d left hours ago,” Michael said. “And I’m driving.”

  “I’ve been in my trailer, preparing for next week’s filming.” She began pouring some drinks, handing a small glass to Michael. “And surely one tiny glass won’t hurt?”

  Michael took the glass from her, slightly wary of what was happening here.

  “I’m glad you’re so motivated, Layla.”

  She smiled at him again, taking a sip of her neat vodka. “Oh, I’m very, very motivated, Michael.”

  Michael leaned back against the wall, looking at her. She was pretty, there was no denying that. She was no India, nowhere near, but she was pretty, in an obvious kind of way. She was also quite a nice person when she dropped the spoilt little rich kid act but he’d been down this road before and it had only led to trouble. Temptation had been a problem for Michael in his past, hence three ex-wives, and he was determined it wouldn’t happen again. He had a beautiful woman waiting for him in Vegas who wanted his baby and he wanted that future, this situation wasn’t going to happen. He’d learnt his lesson on that score.

  “Layla ...”

  She moved closer to him, taking the drink out of his hand and putting it down on the table. “Don’t you find me attractive, Michael?”

  “Come on, Layla. You’re drunk. You don’t want to be doing this.”

  “Don’t I? I think you’re a very handsome man, Michael Walsh. Very, very handsome ...”

  He took hold of her arm and tried to push her away but she was one strong young lady and before he knew what was happening she was kissing him, her fingers running through his hair as she pressed her body against his and he tried not to respond, he tried so hard but for one stupid second he gave in. Then he thought about India, and he thought about Kenny Ross. Had the two of them thought about him at all when they’d been fucking each other behind his back?

  “No, Layla, come on. Don’t! I can’t do this.” This time he managed to push her away but she just looked at him from beneath her false eyelashes, smiling that little-girl-lost smile that might have once sucked him in, in his former years.

  “Can’t you? Don’t you hate being alone though, Michael?”

  “Not really, no.” He started gathering his things together. He had to leave now and get her out of here.

  “But you miss your wife, don’t you?”

  He looked at her. “Of course I miss my wife.”

  She came closer again, but he was determined not to fall for whatever it was she was up to.

  “She’s not here though, is she? She’s miles away, and what she doesn’t know ...”

  He pushed past her and opened the door of his trailer. “It’s time to go now, Layla. It’s late, come on.”

  She walked over to him, reaching out to touch his face as she passed him, smiling a smile full of intent. “One day, Michael. One day.”

  He shut the door behind her and sat down on the sofa, putting his head in his hands for a second, reaching out for the glass of vodka that was still there, knocking it back in one go. He didn’t even know what had just happened there, all he knew was it had confused him. And he wasn’t totally sure he’d wanted her to leave.

  He stood up and went over to the desk in the corner of the trailer, opening the top drawer and taking out another A4 envelope, sliding the handful of photographs out of it - more photographs of India and Kenny, more shots of them together, looking more serious this time. Most of the pictures were of them deep in discussion in the grounds of India’s private villa in Vegas, but one photo in particular worried him more than the rest. It was a picture taken through the window of the villa, a picture of Kenny Ross with his wife in his arms, a picture of him kissing her, a deep kiss, a kiss that belonged to lovers, not friends, and it turned Michael’s stomach just to look at it. But it made him more determined to get
out there to Vegas and make sure India got pregnant as quickly as possible, because it was the only hope he had left. He’d dropped the ball through no fault of his own. He’d let Kenny back in and now, more than ever, he had to up his game. Before he lost his wife for good.

  ***

  “You shouldn’t be here,” India said to Kenny as he stood in the doorway of her bedroom, watching as she folded towels. “I’m busy.”

  “Bobby let me in. He’s gone out, by the way.”

  “I know. And I really need to tell him to ask me first before letting people into this villa.”

  “Even me?”

  She looked up. “Especially you.”

  He watched as she carried a pile of towels into the en-suite. “Don’t you have people to do that for you?”

  She ignored that comment.

  “Are you in a mood or something?”

  She came out of the bathroom and looked at him again, standing there with his arms folded looking cocky but gorgeous in an AC/DC t-shirt, jeans and trainers. He still had the stubble, his dark hair was all over the place and India wished more than anything that he wasn’t standing there in front of her. She wished Michael was here, she needed him to save her, to stop her from doing something she was going to regret.

  “Do you think I should be totally relaxed, Kenny? Do you think I’ve got nothing on my mind?”

  “I know you’ve got plenty on your mind, and I’d do anything to try and help you forget all the crap and relax.”

  “You are all the crap, Kenny.” She started rummaging through drawers, just wanting to do something to keep herself occupied, so she didn’t feel him coming up behind her, not until he’d slipped his arms round her waist, kissing her neck gently, his hands sliding down the front of her combats.