by Lynne Shelby
‘I’ve decided I like being an actor,’ Owen said by way of greeting.
‘Why’s that?’ I handed him a glass of wine.
‘I get invited to showbiz parties. I meet all these famous people…’
I laughed. ‘Sometimes you even get to do some acting.’
‘Oh, yes, there is that,’ Owen said. ‘Seriously, Lucy, I’ve enjoyed this party. It’s been great to talk to so many actors who’ve been in the business a lot longer than I have. Cassie Clarke gave me some really useful advice about acting for television.’
‘Cassie’s a good friend of mine,’ I said. ‘We’ve know each other since we were children. I live in her house.’
‘Yeah, she said.’
Suddenly the image of Nadia telling me that she knew Owen floated into my head. ‘I forgot to tell you when I came to see your play, Cassie’s PA is actually an old friend of yours. Nadia Pincher.’
Owen’s face became expressionless. ‘I wouldn’t exactly describe Nadia as a friend.’
‘Oh. Right.’
‘I used to work with her,’ Owen said. ‘Handing out advertising flyers in the street. One of the worst jobs I did before I went to drama school. The only good thing about it was that everyone else was a resting actor and I got to talk to them about acting.’
I pictured the girls and guys who stood around in Covent Garden, Leicester Square and Piccadilly Circus handing out flyers advertising bars, clubs and West End shows. Most of them were out-of-work actors. Like waitressing, bartending or working in a call centre, flyering was a job that let you take time off to go to auditions.
‘I’d no idea that Nadia used to be an actress,’ I said.
‘She was always reading scripts and talking about parts she’d played,’ Owen said. ‘Although now that I think about it, I do remember that she left the flyering job because she’d taken a job as a PA. It was supposed to be temporary.’
‘I wonder why she’s never gone back to acting,’ I said.
‘I wouldn’t know. Like I said, we weren’t friends.’
Owen doesn’t much care for Nadia, I thought. I cast my mind back over the months I’d lived in Cassie’s house, remembering all the things Nadia had said that had irritated me, and how she’d probably cheated on her boyfriend and bad-mouthed me and Cassie to cover it up. And I admitted to myself that I didn’t much like Nadia either.
In an abrupt change of subject, Owen asked, ‘Have you done all your Christmas shopping?’
‘I’ve done most of it,’ I said. ‘But I still have to get something for my brother. Boys are so much harder to buy for than girls.’
‘I disagree,’ Owen said. ‘I still have to get Julie’s present and I’ve no idea what she’d like.’
‘Every girl likes perfume.’
‘I was hoping to get her something a little more original,’ Owen said. ‘She’s invited me to spend Christmas Day with her family, and I want to give her something that shows how much I appreciate the invitation.’
I thought for a moment. ‘What does Julie do?’
‘She’s an actress. Musical theatre.’
Of course Owens’s exquisitely beautiful girlfriend was an actress. ‘Then why don’t you get her some jewellery with a theatrical theme?’
Owen looked doubtful. ‘Maybe. Though she does own a lot of jewellery.’
At that moment, over Owen’s shoulder, I noticed the door of the room opening to admit a late-arriving guest. The late-comer, dressed all in black, his dark hair delectably tousled, was Daniel Miller.
Even in that room full of successful actors, the arrival of the Fallen Angel did not go unremarked. I saw a number of West End leading ladies glancing sideways at him while whispering conspiratorially to their companions. The excitable soap actress’s mouth actually dropped open, while the faces of the young actors Owen had been talking to earlier expressed admiration and envy in equal measure. Seemingly oblivious of the stir his entrance had caused, Daniel stood in the doorway and let his gaze travel over the crowd. When he saw me, he smiled. I felt a sinuous warmth low in my stomach.
Only half-listening to what Owen was saying about his girlfriend’s taste in music and whether a CD might make a suitable present, I watched as Daniel joined the group of actors gathered around Eleanor. He stayed with her for just a few minutes before going over to Adrian and shaking his hand. After a short conversation, he left Adrian and went to talk to a woman who cast guest stars for a popular BBC drama series. I lost sight of him then, as other people obscured my view. The next time I saw him, he was talking to Maria.
Owen broke in on my thoughts. ‘So, do you really think jewellery would be OK?’
With an effort, I tore my attention away from Daniel, and made myself focus on Owen and his Christmas shopping. Having listened to him agonising over what to buy his girlfriend, I only hoped she was as fond of him as he seemed to be of her.
‘Hello again, Lucy.’ Suddenly, Daniel Miller was standing next to me, close enough for me to smell his aftershave. My stomach turned itself inside out.
‘Daniel,’ I said. ‘I thought you were filming in Ireland.’
‘I was,’ Daniel said, ‘but we wrapped early. I flew back to England this evening and came here straight from the airport. I couldn’t miss the legendary Reardon Haye Christmas party.’
With Daniel’s brown eyes boring into mine, it was difficult to think straight, but I remembered my manners long enough to say, ‘Daniel, this is Owen.’
‘Owen Somers,’ Daniel said, ‘how the devil are you?’
‘Not so bad,’ Owen said. ‘How’s life treating you?’
‘Oh, I get by.’
‘I gather you two know each other?’ I said.
‘We went to the same drama school,’ Owen said.
‘I was two years ahead of Owen,’ Daniel said, ‘but we were in some student shows together.’
‘Were you rivals for the lead?’ I’d talked with enough drama school graduates by now to know that even while actors were still in training, competition for parts was fierce.
‘We’ll never be rivals,’ Daniel said. ‘We’re really not the same casting type.’
‘No, of course, not,’ I said. How could I think they’d ever be up for the same part? Daniel was sex on legs, and Owen was… nice.
Daniel and Owen embarked on a conversation about other actors they’d trained with, and how well (or not) they were doing in their chosen career. I should leave them to it, I thought. I should go and circulate. Instead, I just stood there, gawping at Daniel’s handsome profile and thinking entirely unprofessional thoughts about his lean, muscular body.
At around one o’clock, the music stopped playing and the lights in the meeting room became noticeably brighter. If that was not enough to convince the guests that the party was well and truly over, the waitresses stopped handing out drinks and started collecting up empty glasses. Taking the hint, people began to gravitate towards the door and head out into the night.
Daniel glanced at his watch. ‘It’s still so early,’ he said to me and Owen. ‘Why don’t we all go on to a club?’
‘I can’t,’ Owen said, ‘I have to be somewhere.’
He’s probably going to spend the night with his girlfriend, I thought.
‘Looks like it’ll just be me and you then, Lucy,’ Daniel said.
Just me and you. My heart started beating very fast. ‘Sounds good, Daniel.’
He smiled. ‘I’ll wait outside while you finish up here.’
Owen cleared his throat. ‘I’ll say goodnight, then. Have a good Christmas, Lucy.’
‘You too, Owen.’
He and Daniel were amongst the last guests to leave. Eleanor rounded up the stragglers, wished them a Merry Christmas, and ushered them out of the building and into one of the taxis waiting by the kerb. Leaving the caterers to clear up the party’s debris, and the night security guard to lock up after them, she congratulated her staff on a job well done, and told us she didn’t expect to see any of us in the offi
ce before noon.
‘I only booked the one car to get us all home,’ Eleanor said when we were standing outside on the pavement. ‘We’ll have to work out who needs to be dropped off first.’
I looked up and down the street, and saw Daniel leaning casually against a taxi parked on the opposite side of the road.
‘Thanks, Eleanor,’ I said, ‘but I have a lift. I… I’ll see you all tomorrow.’ Leaving my colleagues staring after me, I darted across the road to Daniel. He opened the door of the taxi so that I could get into the back seat, and slid in next to me.
‘Is Mojave OK with you?’ he said.
For a moment I couldn’t think what he was talking about, but then I realised that Mojave was the name of a club.
‘I’ve never been there,’ I said, ‘but I don’t mind trying out somewhere new.’
Ten minutes later, the cab deposited us in a side street in Mayfair, outside a gracious Georgian townhouse, with a garish neon sign above the door that proclaimed it to be London nightclub Mojave. There was a small queue, hunched up and shivering in the cold night air, but the Fallen Angel was waved straight past by the bouncers, without even the need to stop and identify himself. Once through the doors, we were welcomed with great enthusiasm (well, he was at any rate) by not one but two hostesses, whose greatest pleasure in life was apparently to take charge of our coats.
The interior of the club could best be described as late 1960s retro, the low lighting provided by lava lamps. Directly in front of us was a bar area, with glass tables, and white leather sofas occupied by couples and groups of young men and women. Most of them, from what I could see, were very fashionably and expensively dressed. The background music wasn’t loud enough to drown out their shouted conversations, or the occasional outbreak of braying laughter.
Daniel said, ‘There’s dancing in the basement. Or would you rather get a drink first?’
Having no desire to show him my dubious dance skills, I said, ‘A drink would be lovely.’
Already, the other people in the bar had become aware of the Fallen Angel’s presence. As I followed Daniel to one of the leather sofas, I was aware of faces turning towards us, the sudden absence of talk as we approached, and renewed chatter once we’d walked past. With so many eyes on me, I was relieved that I made it to the sofa without falling over my feet. Conscious of my short skirt, I was particularly careful of how I positioned my legs when I sat down. Daniel sat next to me, leaving very little space between us. A waiter immediately materialised beside us and asked what we’d like to drink. Daniel promptly ordered champagne.
‘Did you notice everyone looking at you?’ I said to him when the waiter had gone.
Daniel shrugged. ‘Since Fallen Angel came out, I get recognised all the time.’
‘Having total strangers watching your every move must take some getting used to.’
‘I’m an actor,’ Daniel said. ‘Being the centre of attention kind of goes with the territory.’
I thought of the numerous articles about Daniel’s amorous exploits in Ireland that I’d read in the gossip columns. And the photos of him glued to his co-star’s face.
‘But you must find it irritating to be continuously stalked by the paparazzi,’ I said.
Daniel smiled. ‘I don’t mind them. I rather enjoy seeing photos of myself in the tabloids. It’s free publicity.’
The waiter returned with our champagne, poured two glasses, and left the bottle within easy reach in a bucket of ice.
When we were alone again, Daniel said, ‘I waited a long time to become famous. Now that I’ve had a taste of what it means to be a star, I want more. I want the Hollywood mansion and the Malibu beach house. I want the private jet and the yacht in the south of France. And if getting them means I have to pose for a few photographs outside a nightclub, I really don’t see it as a problem. But I’m glad there weren’t any paparazzi outside Mojave tonight. It would’ve been hard to make you run a gauntlet of flashing cameras when we’re only on our first date.’
‘Is this a date?’ I said.
‘Well, there’s you, me, and a bottle of champagne,’ Daniel said. ‘I’d call that a date.’
I was on a date with film star Daniel Miller. The thought made me feel light-headed.
‘What would that actress you dated in Ireland think about you being here with me?’ I said.
Daniel looked taken aback. ‘She wouldn’t think anything. I was never in a relationship with her. DCOL.’
‘What?’
‘Doesn’t Count On Location.’
‘I see.’
We drank our champagne. Daniel talked about the auditions for Fallen Angel and how he’d felt when Eleanor phoned him to tell him he’d got the lead. It was warm in the club, and he took off his suit jacket and undid a couple of buttons on his shirt. I found it increasingly difficult to hold up my end of the conversation. It was an effort to stop myself from undoing the rest of his buttons, and ripping the shirt from his back.
Then the champagne bottle and our glasses were empty.
‘Shall I order us another?’ Daniel asked.
‘No more for me.’ I’d acquired a taste for champagne since I’d been working in showbusiness, but I knew when I’d had enough.
Daniel inched closer to me, so that his thigh was touching mine. He gazed at me through hooded eyes.
‘Will you sleep with me tonight, Lucy?’ he said, softly.
My heart actually skipped a beat. What had I expected? The Fallen Angel could have any woman he wanted. He wasn’t going to take me to a club and not ask me to sleep with him. And I wanted to, I really did. I wanted him. But I wasn’t some starstruck girl who’d jump into bed with a guy just because he was famous. And I’d never put out on a first date.
Through a haze of champagne and lust, I heard myself say, ‘I don’t think so, Daniel.’
Daniel’s face didn’t give away any of the shock he must be feeling at being turned down. Instead, his mouth lifted in a slow, seductive smile.
‘I want you to come back to my place,’ he said. ‘I want to kiss you and undress you, and make love to you in my bed.’
‘Daniel, I’m not going to sleep with you.’
‘Not tonight maybe,’ Daniel said. ‘But you will. Right now, I’ll take you home – your home. And I’ll go back to mine.’
Daniel paid for our drinks and then, one of Mojave’s extremely efficient and helpful staff having returned our coats, we got up to go. Daniel put a hand on the small of my back to guide me out of the bar. When he helped me on with my fake fur, his fingers brushed my bare shoulders. My whole body tingled pleasurably at his touch.
Outside, it had started to snow.
CHAPTER 8
I tilted my head up to the sky and let the flakes settle on my face. Daniel laughed and did the same.
‘Much as I like looking at your legs in that dress, you must be freezing. Let’s get in the taxi.’ He gestured to the black cab parked a few yards down the road.
He was right, of course. My short dress and waist-length jacket were not designed to be worn in the snow. He held out his hand. I took a step towards him. My high heels slipped on the wet pavement, my right ankle twisted under me, and I landed on my knees at Daniel’s feet.
‘Lucy! Are you all right?’ His strong arms lifted me up, and held me close against his chest.
‘I think so,’ I said, embarrassed. I tried putting my weight on my ankle, and it seemed OK. ‘I’m fine.’ Apart from the fact that I’ve just made a complete fool of myself, I thought. ‘I guess you’re used to having women throw themselves at you.’
Daniel didn’t say anything. Instead, he bent his head and kissed me. Gently at first and then suddenly passionately, his tongue sliding between my lips and exploring my mouth. I felt such a strong desire for him, to have him inside me, that I shocked myself. My legs were shaking, and if it wasn’t for him holding me tight within the circle of his arms, I would have fallen at his feet once again.
‘You’re shiverin
g,’ Daniel said. ‘We should go.’ We walked to the taxi and clambered into the back seat.
‘Where to, mate?’ the driver asked.
‘What’s your address, Lucy?’ Daniel said.
I thought, I can go home alone to my empty bed or I can go home with the hottest guy on the planet and have a night of torrid passion.
‘Daniel, what I said earlier, I’ve changed my mind.’ I lowered my voice so that the taxi driver couldn’t hear. ‘I will sleep with you tonight.’
For a moment Daniel didn’t say anything. Then he gave the cab driver an address in Chiswick. The taxi sped off through the dark London streets. Daniel put an arm around my shoulder. He smiled at me, and stroked my face. Then he kissed me again. He went on kissing me the whole time we were in the taxi. The driver kept his eyes on the road. I figured he’d probably seen worse in the back of his cab in any case.
By the time we reached the block of flats where Daniel lived, it was snowing hard. There was no-one about and no other cars, and everything was silent and still. Daniel paid the taxi driver, and the cab pulled away from the kerb and was soon lost to sight in the swirling snowflakes. Daniel took my hand and led me along the snow-covered path to his building’s communal front door. He kissed me again, before producing the key fob that would let us in. Still kissing me, he walked me to the lift, and pressed the button for the first floor. In the lift, he slid his hand inside my coat and cupped my breast. I thought I was going to faint.
The lift doors opened and we stumbled out, our mouths still locked together. Daniel let us into his flat, slamming the front door shut behind us.
‘This way,’ he said hoarsely, and together we staggered into his bedroom. I shrugged off my coat and he did the same.
‘How does this come off?’ He was fumbling at the back of my dress.
‘Zip. Side.’
‘What?’
I unzipped my dress, pulled it off over my head and kicked off my shoes. Daniel had already stripped off down to his boxers. He pulled me to him and kissed me on the mouth hard, the neck, the top of my breasts above my bra, and my stomach. He rolled my tights down my legs, and I gasped as he kissed my thighs.
