The One That I Want

by Lynne Shelby

  ‘We decided that men who’ve spent an entire evening being strangled by bow ties deserve to drink champagne,’ Zac said.

  ‘As do women who’ve been dancing in high heels,’ Owen added.

  Julie said, ‘Ooh, I love champagne. What shall we drink to, Lucy?’

  I raised my glass. ‘To showbusiness.’

  Owen, Julie and Zac chorused, ‘To showbusiness.’

  We clinked glasses and drank.

  CHAPTER 14

  ‘So as soon as I got home,’ I said, ‘I Googled Zac and Julie Diaz, and it turns out they’re showbiz royalty.’

  ‘I’m very surprised you’d never heard of them,’ Nadia mused. ‘Zac’s family are musical theatre legends.’

  I walked straight into that one, I thought.

  It was Sunday night. Ryan had gone out for a drink with his friend and team mate, goalkeeper Fabio Rossi. Cassie and I had eaten far too much of one of Erin’s delicious home-made casseroles (as well as her other household duties, Cassie’s housekeeper made sure the freezer was well-stocked), and we were still in the kitchen talking over the Star Gazer Gala when Nadia had arrived home. Joining us at the table, she’d been very quick to tell us that she’d gone straight from the gala to Leo’s house, where she’d spent the rest of the weekend. Which convinced me she’d done nothing of the kind.

  ‘I met Julie Farrel Diaz once,’ Cassie said, suddenly, ‘at an awards ceremony for women in the entertainment industry, but I’ve never heard her sing.’

  ‘Personally, I’ve always thought she has a wonderful voice,’ Nadia said. ‘All those rumours that she only got her first lead role because she was shagging the famous Zac Diaz were so unfair.’

  Spreading ugly gossip while denying it – that takes some doing, I thought.

  Through gritted teeth, I said, ‘As she’s been starring in West End musicals for the last three years, I think we can assume that her success is down to her talent, whatever the rumours.’

  ‘Oh, I agree, but –’ Nadia’s phone rang, and she broke off mid-sentence to look at the screen. ‘I need to take this. Remember your call time is an hour early tomorrow, Cassie.’ She jumped up and hurried out of the kitchen. I wondered who it was she was so anxious to talk to in private. Probably not Poor Leo.

  ‘I’d completely forgotten about that call time,’ Cassie said. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without Nadia.’

  I decided that telling Cassie I thought her PA was a two-faced cow was unlikely to contribute to domestic harmony. What I couldn’t understand was why Cassie didn’t see it for herself.

  ‘Your favourite client, Owen Somers, must be pretty impressed with you, if he’s recommending you to his famous friends,’ Cassie said.

  ‘I don’t have a favourite client,’ I said. ‘But I do think Owen is a very talented actor. If you’d seen him on stage, you’d think so too.’

  ‘You like him, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ I said. ‘Actually, I’m meeting him for a drink tomorrow after work.’

  ‘Was that your idea or his?’ Cassie said.

  ‘I’m not sure.’ The previous night, after we’d finished our champagne, the four of us had left the hotel together. Zac and Julie had taken a taxi, and I’d invited Owen to share my hired car, dropping him off at his flat in South London. While we sped through the dark streets, we’d talked non-stop about the gala and about the theatre. But as to which of us had suggested continuing the conversation over a drink, I’d no idea. I said, ‘I think it was me. I don’t remember.’

  Cassie gave me a long look. ‘Lucy, tell me honestly. Is there something going on between you and Owen?’

  ‘There honestly isn’t,’ I said, taken aback. Where was this coming from? ‘We had a good time together last night, but I’m not attracted to him.’

  ‘Does he know that?’ Cassie said.

  ‘Of course he does.’ I said. ‘He knows I’m with Daniel. He’s a friend of Daniel’s – an acquaintance. They went to the same drama school.’

  ‘As long as you’re sure you know what you’re doing.’ Cassie turned her head towards the door, as Ryan came into the kitchen, still in his outdoor coat.

  ‘Hey, beautiful.’ He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. ‘What are you two talking about?’

  ‘Men and relationships,’ Cassie said.

  ‘Any chance you’d like to talk about football?’

  ‘Absolutely not.’

  Ryan grinned. ‘Then I’ll leave you to it. ‘Night, Lucy.’

  ‘Goodnight,’ I said.

  ‘I should probably go up too,’ Cassie said, after Ryan had left. ‘I’m feeling rather tired.’

  ‘Yes, with that early call tomorrow, you should get some sleep,’ I said. ‘You’re blushing, by the way.’

  ‘I am not.’ Cassie laughed, and headed upstairs to join her boyfriend.

  Left on my own in the kitchen, my thoughts drifted to Daniel. I wondered what he was doing now. On impulse, I picked up my mobile and called his number. There was no reply. Telling myself firmly that this could have been for any number of reasons – even on a Sunday, he could be filming – I made myself a cup of hot chocolate, and took myself off to my lonely bed.

  I met Owen in a bar in Soho. He’d got there before me, and had staked a claim for us at a table in the window. He’d also bought a bottle of white wine. I slid into the seat opposite him, and he poured me a glass.

  ‘Are you hungry?’ he said to me. ‘They do a good seafood platter in here. Or we could go on somewhere else after we’ve finished our drinks.’

  ‘I’m ravenous,’ I said. ‘And seafood would be great.’

  So we drank our wine, and ate and talked about showbusiness, about uni and drama school, and what we wanted out of life apart from our (obviously) brilliant careers. We decided that earning a fortune wasn’t a priority for either of us (as long as you have enough, you know, to do what you want).

  ‘You haven’t mentioned fame,’ I said to Owen. ‘Surely you want to be famous?’

  ‘I wouldn’t object to being famous,’ Owen said, ‘but that’s not why I became an actor.’

  ‘So what is the reason?’

  Owen’s face grew thoughtful. ‘It’s hard to explain. Do you really want to know?’

  I nodded.

  ‘The reason I became an actor,’ Owen said gravely, ‘was to meet girls.’

  ‘Really?’ He hadn’t mentioned that when I auditioned him.

  ‘You look shocked, Lucy.’

  ‘I am a bit,’ I said. ‘Meeting women doesn’t seem the best reason to go into acting. It’s such a hard profession…’

  Owen started laughing. I stared at him for a moment. Then I hit him on the shoulder.

  ‘Ouch,’ he said. ‘That hurt.’

  ‘Good. I thought we were having a serious conversation, but you…’ I tried to keep a straight face, but found myself laughing as well.

  ‘It’s true,’ Owen protested. ‘I went to an all-boys school, and one of the few times we got to meet females was when the drama club put on a play with the girls’ school down the road. Then, when I was about fifteen, I discovered acting. And that I was good at it. And that it was the only thing I wanted to do with my life.’

  ‘Apart from meeting girls, of course,’ I said. ‘I have a younger brother, I know what fifteen year old boys are like.’

  ‘Oh, I still like meeting girls,’ Owen said. ‘Sadly, my love life is a disaster.’

  ‘Is it?’ I said, surprised. ‘Really? I mean, you’re a good-looking guy…’

  ‘Don’t get me wrong,’ Owen said. ‘I’m not saying I – ah – don’t get any action, but I’ve never dated any girl longer than a few weeks. When I look at friends who are in steady relationships like Zac and Julie, I find myself wanting what they have for myself.’

  ‘Maybe you’re dating the wrong girls,’ I said.

  ‘Perhaps I am,’ Owen said. ‘The last time I took a girl out, we found that we had absolutely nothing to say to each other. Until I acc
idently knocked a glass of red wine into her lap. She had quite a bit to say about that.’

  I couldn’t help laughing. ‘Did you ask if you could see her again?’

  ‘No, I didn’t, strangely enough,’ Owen said. ‘Anyway, given my chronically single status, and the unlikelihood of me finding my soulmate in the next few days, are you free on Saturday?’

  ‘I’ve not got anything planned. Why?’

  ‘I was wondering if you’d like to come and see my friend’s band playing in a pub in Camden? It won’t be quite as glamorous an event as the Star Gazer Gala, but it should be a good night.’

  Alarm bells went off in my head. In my mind’s eye, I saw Cassie looking at me quizzically across the kitchen table. I thought, am I wrong about Owen? Maybe he does have the hots for me? I’m going to have to remind him that I’m already taken.

  ‘I would like to come,’ I said, hoping I didn’t sound as awkward as I felt. ‘The only thing is, I’m in a relationship – a steady relationship – with Daniel Miller.’

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘He might be on another continent, but there’s no way I’d ever cheat on him.’

  ‘And you’re telling me this because?’

  ‘I wouldn’t want you to think that anything was going to happen between us if I come out with you on Saturday.’

  Owen raised his eyebrows. ‘Lucy, you’re a very attractive girl. I’m sure guys hit on you all the time. But I’m not interested in a leg over with the Fallen Angel’s girlfriend. I’d like it if we were friends – not friends with benefits.’

  ‘I’d like that as well.’

  Owen’s face broke into a smile. ‘So you’ll come to Camden on Saturday?’

  ‘I’d love to,’ I said.

  CHAPTER 15

  In London, on Saturday afternoon, reclining on my bed, I said, ‘Everyone at work is very impressed with me right now.’

  More than three thousand miles away in New York, where it was still early morning, Daniel said, ‘Why’s that then, babe?’

  ‘I persuaded Julie Farrel Diaz to sign with Reardon Haye.’

  ‘That’s great.’ Daniel sounded distinctly underwhelmed. ‘She’s mainly done musicals, right?’

  ‘West End musicals,’ I said. ‘She came into the agency yesterday for a chat with me and Eleanor and we –’

  ‘Hold on a sec,’ Daniel said, ‘there’s someone knocking on the trailer… Come in… Now? OK, no worries… Yeah, I’ll be right with you… Lucy, are you still there?’

  ‘Yes, I’m still here.’

  ‘Sorry, babe, I’ll have to cut this call short. They need me on set.’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t realise you were in the middle of filming –’

  ‘We’re at a location in Central Park.’

  ‘That sounds –’

  ‘I’ve got to go, babe. I’ll call you tonight, yeah? Your time.’

  ‘I’m out tonight. I’m going to see a band – friends of your friend Owen Somers.’

  ‘We’ll talk tomorrow then, yeah?’

  ‘Yeah – I mean, yes, I’ll –’ I realised that he’d already ended the call. I reached out and slowly ran my hand over the empty space next to me on my bed. Daniel’s side of the bed. The place where he’d so often slept. I wished that he was lying there at that moment, that he was here with me in London instead of thousands of miles away in a different time zone. Suddenly, I was very glad that I was going to a gig with Owen that night. It would distract me from thinking too much about what the Fallen Angel might be doing in New York. In his private trailer. On location.

  I took the tube to Camden Station, and walked along the High Street to the pub where Owen’s friend’s band, Viper, was playing. Owen was waiting for me outside, drinking beer from a bottle. Like me, he was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, but his T-shirt had the band’s name emblazoned across the front. He greeted me with an air-kiss on each side of my face.

  ‘I don’t suppose you speak French?’ he said.

  ‘I do a bit,’ I said. ‘I’m far from fluent, but French was one of my A levels.’

  ‘Oh, good,’ Owen said. ‘Michael, my flatmate, and his French girlfriend decided to tag along with me at the last minute, and she hardly speaks a word of English. Let’s get a drink, and then you can meet them.’

  Although Viper weren’t due onstage for another hour, the pub was heaving with their fans, guys in leather and distressed jeans, and girls with kohl-lined eyes, short, fraying denim skirts, boots and ripped tights. There were a lot of chains, studs and piercings, and I was one of the very few people there who didn’t have a visible tattoo. Owen and I fought our way through the crowd to the bar, where he bought beer for both of us. Drinking a bottle of beer instead of my usual white wine suited the general atmosphere.

  ‘How come your flatmate has a French girlfriend?’ I asked Owen.

  ‘He met her when he spent a year in France as part of his degree,’ Owen said. ‘He’s based in England now, doing a post-grad journalism course, and she lives in Paris, but they manage to meet up every few weeks.’

  Tall enough to see over the heads of most of the people in the pub, Owen spotted Michael and his girlfriend standing with their backs to us near the stage. Again we forced our way through the crowd, and when we reached them, Owen tapped his flatmate on the shoulder, so that he spun around. When he saw me with Owen, he gave me a look that could only be described as appraising, but quickly followed it up with a smile.

  ‘Michael – Lucy, my amazing agent,’ Owen said.

  ‘We meet at last,’ Michael said. ‘I’ve heard so much about you from Owen, I feel I know you already.’

  ‘What has he been saying?’ I asked.

  ‘Only good things,’ Owen interjected, before Michael could reply. He indicated the girl standing at his flatmate’s side, ‘Lucy – Annette, also amazing, because she puts up with Michael.’

  I smiled at the French girl, a tiny doll-like creature with short brown hair that fell into her eyes in a heavy fringe. She was wearing a floral dress clinched in with a wide leather belt that showed off her enviably small waist, and high-heeled lace-up ankle boots. Even with the heels, she barely came up to Michael’s shoulder. I may be only five feet five, but next to her, I felt like a lumbering giantess.

  ‘Bonsoir, Annette,’ I said, ‘Comment allez-vous?’

  Her face lit up. ‘Vous parlez Francais?’

  ‘Un peu.’ I said. ‘A little.’

  ‘But this is wonderful,’ Annette said, still in French. ‘I have found someone in England to talk to apart from Michael. I am learning English, but it is very hard.’

  For the rest of the evening I spoke to Annette in her own language, with Michael helping out when my French vocabulary failed me, and both of us translating what she said into English for Owen. Viper, three male musicians and a girl singer (who looked incredible in tight black leather jeans and a simple white vest top), came on stage and began their first set, heavy rock interspersed with lighter ballads, that went down really well with the crowd.

  ‘They’re really good,’ I said to Owen. ‘Which of them is your friend?’

  ‘The singer,’ Owen said. ‘Her name’s Jess.’

  When Owen had asked me if I’d like to watch his friend’s band, I’d assumed his friend was a guy. But the singer was very definitely female. I wondered if she was an ex with whom he’d remained on good terms, or if, like Julie Diaz, she was another of his friends who just happened to be a girl. Before I could indulge my curiosity and find out, Viper launched into their next song, and Owen’s attention was all on the stage.

  When the band took a break, Michael went to the bar and came back with beer for all of us. Annette told me that she worked in a flower market in Paris. She asked me if I knew the city, and I confessed that I’d only been to France once, on a school trip to Calais. Viper returned to perform their second set. People were dancing now (well, jigging up and down, vaguely in time to the music), and Owen had to put his arm around my waist to steady me amon
gst the press of bodies in front of the stage. It grew very hot, so hot that I could feel sweat running down my back, and the floor became sticky with spilt beer. At an alcohol-fuelled gig, listening to rock music, I felt like a student again. I tried to tell Owen this, but the music was too loud for him to hear me.

  Viper performed their last song and left the stage, and to no-one’s surprise, came back on again in response to the audience’s impassioned cries of More! More! (or in Annette’s case Encore! Encore!) After several more songs, they really did leave the stage, and their roadies (the singer’s boyfriend and the lead guitarist’s dad, Owen informed me) started packing up their gear. The four members of the band came into the bar to mingle with their fans, many of whom they seemed to know by name. When she spotted Owen, the girl singer, Jess, rushed up to him and flung her arms around his neck.

  ‘You came!’ she said, somewhat unnecessarily.

  Owen hugged her, lifting her up off her feet, before disentangling himself. ‘Wouldn’t have missed it. You were terrific.’

  ‘We were, weren’t we? We were brilliant.’ Jess laughed, still on a high from her performance.

  ‘I really like your sound,’ I said.

  ‘Thank you so much,’ Jess said. ‘That’s all we want – for people to like our music. Of course, we wouldn’t mind a record deal as well.’

  Somewhat belatedly, Owen thought to introduce us all, mentioning that he and I had met when I’d auditioned him.

  ‘How do you and Owen know each other?’ I asked Jess.

  ‘We used to wait tables in the same restaurant,’ she said. ‘You know what it’s like when you’re an out-of-work musician –’

  ‘Or an out-of-work actor,’ Owen said. ‘You may be an artiste, but you have to eat.’

  ‘You have to get a day job,’ Jess said. ‘I still do a bit of waitressing. When we’ve not had a gig in a while. It’s not very rock’n’roll, but it pays the bills.’

  Jess’s boyfriend came over then, shaking Owen’s hand, before telling Jess that their gear was packed up in the guitarist’s dad’s van and if they wanted a lift home, they needed to go now, because the guitarist’s dad was on the early shift tomorrow at his real work.