by Lynne Shelby
‘What’s settled?’ Nadia came into my room, and I found myself irritated that she hadn’t bothered to knock, even though the door was half-open.
‘Lucy had this mad idea that she was going to move into her own place,’ Cassie said. ‘But I talked her out of it. She’s staying.’
‘Oh, Lucy, I did tell you that Cassie wouldn’t want you to leave just because Ryan’s back on the scene,’ Nadia said. ‘You should have listened to me.’
That wasn’t quite how I remembered Nadia’s and my conversation, but I couldn’t think of a way to say this without sounding like a petulant teenager. So I smiled and said nothing.
‘Lucy and I are going clubbing tonight,’ Cassie said, breaking the silence. ‘Would you like to come, Nadia, if you’ve not got other plans?’
‘Oh, yes, I’ll come,’ Nadia said immediately. ‘I’m not doing anything I can’t cancel.’
‘In that case,’ Cassie said, ‘the three of us can have a girls’ night out.’
CHAPTER 4
‘We should have stayed in the VIP area,’ Cassie wailed. ‘If we’d stayed in the VIP area, it would never have happened. Here, take a look.’ She passed me her laptop.
Balancing the laptop on my knees, I clicked through the on-line showbiz gossip and news sites that she’d brought up on her screen. Every one of them featured pictures of Ryan leaving West End nightclub BarRacuda and getting into a car with a ‘mystery blonde.’ The girl was Cassie, but she was holding her hand over her face, and was unrecognisable. I was also in some of the photos, but I was looking away from the camera, and you couldn’t really tell it was me. Ryan’s friend, his team’s goalkeeper whose birthday we’d been celebrating, was in one photo, and in the picture it looked as though his hand was on my rear. I was fairly sure it hadn’t been.
‘My bum looks big in that photo,’ I said.
‘That’s really not my main concern right now,’ Cassie said.
‘Yes. I know. Sorry.’
The previous evening had started well. Cassie’s hired limo had dropped her, Nadia and me off at BarRacuda, the bouncers had ushered us to the front of the queue, and once we were inside, a smiling hostess had escorted us into the VIP area. This was a new experience for me, and I have to admit that I enjoyed it. (If you’d been turned away from your local nightclub when you were seventeen because your fake ID couldn’t cut it, you’d enjoy it too.) The VIP area was packed, but Cassie and I squeezed onto a couch with Rochelle Thorne (yes, that Rochelle Thorne – the tall one from the girl band, the Thorne Sisters) who she introduced as a good friend, and who was, I discovered, a really nice, down-to-earth girl, and an actor from one of the soaps. Nadia went off to talk to a guy she knew. I didn’t recognise him, but Cassie told me he was an up-and-coming film director named Sam Hurst. I made a mental note to Google him when we went home. If I was going to be a successful agent, I needed to know about these people.
Another guy had joined us for a while, young, very well-spoken, and buying champagne like it was going out of fashion. I’d no idea who he was either, but I knew he must be rich or famous or both, because of the champagne – and because of the number of rich and famous people I did recognise who were so eager to stop by and talk to him. Somehow, I got the idea that he was an actor on Cassie’s show, and asked him if he ever got to ride a unicorn.
‘He must have thought I was very odd,’ I said to Cassie, once the young man, who’d listened so politely while I’d enthused about fairy dust and mermaids had gone, and Cassie had informed me that he was the drummer from the heavy metal band, Feral.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Cassie said. ‘I didn’t recognise him the first time I met him. He looks very different without all that leather gear and make-up he wears on stage.’
Then Nadia re-appeared, full of the news that Ryan and some of his team mates had been spotted on the dance floor in the main area of the club.
‘We should go downstairs and join him,’ I said to Cassie.
Cassie frowned. ‘No, I don’t think so. I’d never have suggested we come to BarRacuda if I’d known he was going to be here. We should leave.’
‘I’d rather go and join Ryan and his friends,’ I said. ‘My new dress doesn’t want to leave. My dress will sulk if she has to leave.’ By then, I’d drunk rather more than my share of the drummer’s champagne.
Suddenly, Cassie’s mood changed and she smiled. ‘Far be it from me to deprive you of a chance to show off your new dress. We’ll go downstairs. Are you coming, Nadia?’
‘No, I think I’ll stay here. Call me on my mobile when you decide to go home, and I’ll come down and find you.’ She went back to the film director and they were soon once again deep in conversation.
Leaving Nadia in the VIP area, Cassie and I made our way downstairs and onto the club’s main dance floor. Ryan’s team mates were easy enough to spot amongst the crowd as they were surrounded by a large proportion of BarRacuda’s female clientele, all dancing in a way designed to attract the attention of a footballer out on the prowl.
‘Where’s Ryan?’ I said.
‘Over there.’ Cassie pointed to the bar where Ryan was drinking a beer and talking to a couple of lads who gazed back at him in speechless admiration.
‘He’s doesn’t care much for nightclubs,’ Cassie remarked.
‘He certainly doesn’t seem to be having as good a time as his mates,’ I said, glancing over to where two of the footballers were performing a break dance in the middle of a circle of squealing girls. ‘Shall we go and join him?’
‘Oh, no, we can’t do that,’ Cassie said. ‘We have to be more subtle. We have to pretend we don’t know him.’
‘What?’
‘I told you. Ryan and I have to be very careful. We need to keep our relationship private.’
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Listen, Cassie, I know I said I didn’t want to leave the club, but maybe we should just go back up to the VIP area.’
‘No, it’s OK. Now that we’re down here, we may as well dance.’ Cassie headed determinedly out onto the dance floor, and after some hesitation, I went after her. As soon as she reached the middle of the crowd, she began dancing, moving sinuously in perfect time to the music, every step taking her closer to where Ryan was propping up the bar. I did my best to copy her, but I’m not much of a dancer. Her body rippled and her hips swayed suggestively. My hips just swayed awkwardly. Ryan didn’t appear to have noticed us, but I felt sure he was watching Cassie. Plenty of other men were.
The music stopped. Before the next track started, Ryan had abandoned his admirers and was standing in front of me, with his back to Cassie.
‘Would you like to dance?’ he said.
It was all done very smoothly. No-one watching would have guessed that Ryan and Cassie knew each other, let alone that they were in a relationship. I wondered if they’d acted out this scene before.
‘I’d love to dance,’ I said. The music started again and Ryan and I danced together, while Cassie danced by herself. When the next track came on, he danced with her, and then he danced with both of us.
When the track changed, Cassie said, ‘We have to go now.’ She linked her arm in mine and started to walk off the dance floor.
‘Don’t go yet,’ Ryan said. ‘I’ve not even introduced myself.’
Cassie turned back to him.
‘I’m Cassie’s footballer,’ Ryan said.
Well that did it, of course. There was no way Cassie was going to leave Ryan all alone on the dance floor when he was looking at her with those big soulful eyes and telling her that he was hers. We spent the rest of the night dancing and drinking with him. And with his team mates. Cassie had only had one glass of the drummer’s champagne, but she moved on to fruit juice. I was less restrained. I blame the tequila (and the jägerbombs) for the fact that I snogged the goalkeeper in a dark corner of the club. He had some interesting suggestions about some other things we could do, starting with my going home with him, but I had to tell him it wasn’t going to happen. Wi
th the possible exception of Ryan Fleet, I reckoned that a footballer who was all over a girl in a nightclub was unlikely to be looking for a meaningful relationship.
At five o’clock in the morning the music stopped. The lights came on to reveal scenes of devastation and destruction, smudged make up, beer-stained shirts, incipient hangovers, and ill-advised liaisons. Cassie got out her phone to call Nadia, but she’d already left a voice mail, saying that she’d decided to take a cab over to Leo’s house in Battersea. Ryan draped his arm over Cassie’s shoulders, the goalkeeper said he would share our taxi, and the four of us lurched out into the dawn. Where we were greeted with enthusiasm by the paparazzi…
I had a good time last night,’ I said. ‘My new dress was a social triumph.’
‘Don’t,’ Cassie said. ‘I know you’re only trying to cheer me up, but don’t.’
‘It’s really not so bad,’ I said.
‘How do you figure that out? How is it not so bad?’ Cassie had been lying on her back on the sofa, but now she sprang to her feet. ‘If the press find out that the mystery blonde who went home with Ryan Fleet was Princess Snowdrop, I could be fired.’
To me it seemed very unlikely that the actress who played Princess Snowdrop could be fired for getting into a cab with a footballer, but Cassie had been working in showbusiness a lot longer than I had.
‘Where is Ryan, anyway?’ I said.
‘He went out for a run.’
‘We didn’t get in until half past five. It’s now ten o’clock. And Ryan’s gone for a run?’
‘He’s an athlete. He has a lot of energy.’
‘Lucky you.’ I decided that the next guy I dated was going to have to agree to take part in at least one physical activity on a weekly basis. Apart from the obvious.
Cassie was still studying the laptop. ‘Oh. My. God. On this page, there’s actually a phone number for people to ring if they know Ryan Fleet’s mystery girl.’
At that moment both of us started as Ryan rapped on the French windows. Cassie let him in.
‘Why have you come in through the garden?’ She tilted her face up towards him for his kiss.
Looking far too lively for a man who’d been dancing and drinking in a nightclub ’til dawn, Ryan kissed her lightly on the mouth. ‘I saw a car with a guy who could have been a journalist parked just a couple of doors down from your house, so I ran straight past him and came in the back way.’
‘Please tell me he didn’t recognise you.’
Ryan grinned. ‘Cassie, I’m kidding. I rang the front door bell, but it doesn’t seem to be working. I was knocking for ages before I decided to try around the back.’
‘Not funny.’ Cassie flung herself back onto the sofa. ‘It’s not just about us, Ryan. If someone who saw me at BarRacuda tells the press that I’m the mystery blonde in the photos, it could mean the end of Princess Snowdrop as a role model for young girls.’
‘I hate to break it to you,’ Ryan said, ‘but twenty and thirty-something clubbers are unlikely to be hard-core members of Princess Snowdrop’s fan base. They probably failed to realise that Her Highness was gracing BarRacuda with her presence.’
‘Everyone in the VIP area knew I was there.’
‘I know a lot of celebrities,’ Ryan said. ‘And not one of them would leak a name to the press.’
‘That’s so nice,’ I said.
‘Not really,’ Ryan said, ‘they’re all desperate to get their own names in the papers. They’re not going to give free publicity to someone else.’
‘What about your friends, Ryan?’ Cassie said. ‘Not all of them have had media training. They could easily let slip my name without even meaning to.’
‘I don’t think they realised who you were,’ Ryan said. ‘They were all pretty much hammered. And you did look very different last night to the way you look on TV. That backless dress you wore was hot.’
Cassie smiled happily at the compliment. ‘Thank you.’
‘Yeah, I’m sure my friends didn’t recognise you,’ Ryan said. ‘They just thought I’d scored with a hot chick.’
Cassie’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are you saying that dress makes me look like the sort of trashy girl who picks up footballers in clubs?’
‘No,’ Ryan said. ‘You looked sexy and classy, and I’m the luckiest guy alive because I got to take you home.’
Cassie’s face glowed with pleasure. Ryan smiled adoringly at her. Then he turned to me.
‘I got a text from Fabio this morning,’ he said. ‘It says, “Do you know the girl I kissed? Can you get me her mobile number?”’
‘Fabio?’
‘Fabio Rossi. The goalkeeper. The very drunk guy who shared our cab last night, and was so disappointed when you insisted on staying in the car when we dropped him off at his flat.’
‘Oh. I didn’t catch his name. Will you text back “No” and “No.”’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, Ryan, I’m sure.’
‘OK. I’ll text him now. Then I’m going to jump in the shower. And then I’ll take a look at the doorbell and see if I can fix it.’
‘You can leave the bell, Ryan,’ Cassie said. ‘When Nadia gets in, I’ll have her call an electrician.’
‘It probably just needs a new battery,’ Ryan said, as he headed out of the living room. ‘Find me one while I’m in the shower.’
When he had gone, Cassie said, ‘Do we have any spare batteries?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I’ll go and see. Where do we keep the spare batteries if we have them?’
‘I have absolutely no idea. Nadia takes care of that sort of thing.’
I started to laugh.
‘What’s so amusing?’ Cassie asked.
‘You don’t know where anything’s kept in your own home.’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘So where would I find a light bulb?’
‘Somewhere in the kitchen maybe?’
‘Not good enough. Candles? Matches?’
‘Don’t know where they’re kept either,’ Cassie said. ‘Sorry. If the lights go out when Nadia’s not here, we’ll be sitting in the dark.’
‘You’re such a celebrity,’ I said. ‘You’re completely dependent on your PA.’
Cassie shrugged. ‘What can I say? I shouldn’t have to bother myself with the mundane details of household management. I’m a star.’
‘You’re Princess Snowdrop.’
‘I’m on television. But I’m still Cassie from the block.’
We were both laughing now, and suddenly neither of us could stop. It was just like when we were kids and Stephen told us stupid jokes until we were doubled up with laughter. And then my mother would come in and complain that men always got children wound up and overexcited, before she started laughing too.
‘Cassie, where are you?’ Nadia burst into the living room.
‘Hi, Nadia.’ Cassie controlled her laughter with difficulty. ‘We were just talking about you.’
‘Have you seen the photos on the internet?’ Nadia caught sight of Cassie’s laptop. ‘Oh, you have. Have you had the TV on? There were more photos of you on the early morning news.’
Cassie groaned.
‘You’ve been so careful,’ Nadia said, ‘and now this. Ryan must feel terrible this morning.’
Cassie looked puzzled. ‘He seems fine.’
‘Not that I’m suggesting for a moment that this situation is his fault,’ Nadia continued, ‘but it’s only natural if he blames himself for ruining your career.’
‘Cassie’s career isn’t ruined,’ I said.
Ignoring me, Nadia read aloud from the laptop screen. ‘“He moves so Fleet, and not just with his feet.” Who writes this stuff? At least your name hasn’t been mentioned. Yet.’
‘It will be, though, won’t it?’ Cassie said. ‘It’s only a matter of time. There’s even a phone number for people to call if they can identify Ryan Fleet’s mystery blonde.’
‘If it comes out in the media that Princess Snowdrop is
involved with a footballer...’ Nadia shook her head. ‘Cassie, you should ring your publicist. Maybe she can do some damage limitation.’
‘For goodness’ sake,’ I said. ‘Cassie, you’re not Princess Snowdrop. You don’t live in a white castle in a magic kingdom. You’re an actress. No-one is going to care if you have a boyfriend.’
Nadia put her hand on my arm. ‘I know you mean well, Lucy, but you don’t have any media experience. Cassie Clarke is so closely identified with the role of Princess Snowdrop, that in the minds of the public she is one and the same person.’
I started to protest that this was ridiculous, but then remembered how another actor, one of Reardon Haye’s clients, had received death threats when his character in a long-running soap had beaten up his screen wife. Maria had told me that he’d hired a bodyguard.
‘This is awful. Why was I so stupid?’ Cassie put her hands over her face.
‘It’s all very unfortunate,’ Nadia said, ‘but I do have a solution.’
Cassie looked up hopefully.
‘The girl in the pictures,’ Nadia said, ‘Ryan’s ‘mystery blonde.’ She could be me.’
‘Pass me my laptop.’ Cassie studied the photos on the screen. ‘You’re right. She could be you.’
Nadia did have a point. All that could be seen of the ‘mystery’ girl was that she was small and slim, had great legs, and long blonde hair. Her face wasn’t visible in any of the shots.
‘I really don’t care if the world and his wife think that I slept with Ryan Fleet last night,’ Nadia said. ‘I suggest that one of us rings that number and leaves my name.’
‘Oh, Nadia, that’s so kind of you,’ Cassie said, ‘but it wouldn’t be fair to throw you to the mercy of the paparazzi. And if they got hold of your name and found out where you lived, they’d still be camped on my doorstep.’
‘Well, the offer stands,’ Nadia said. ‘Does anyone want coffee?’
‘Please,’ Cassie said.
Nadia went off to the kitchen.
‘Batteries!’ I said. ‘I’ll go and ask Nadia...’
Leaving Cassie still trawling through the internet, I went along the hallway to the back of the house. The kitchen door was open, and I heard Nadia’s voice from within.
