Loving his ANGEL_A Rock Star Romance

by Megan Hetherington

  He was in no mood for courtesy.

  The gates opened, irritably slow. The little wheels on the bottom track, creaking as they ate through the gravelly dust the builders had left.

  He hit the accelerator hard, lurching through the gate and up the drive, skidding to a halt; the front bumper crashing into the skip.

  Scooting across to the passenger seat, he jumped down from the Range Rover and straight in the front door in an attempt to avoid being snapped.

  “Eliza!” he called out to her.

  No answer.

  He moved through the labyrinth of rooms towards the back of the house. Calling out her name repeatedly.

  Pushing forcefully on the swollen wooden door in the kitchen out to the back garden, he stilled on the threshold, trying to gauge her mood.

  Taking three laboured breaths to alleviate the anger that had germinated inside him. He stepped over the foundations of their new extension and strode towards her.

  She was sat on the cast iron love seat nestled under their sizeable oak tree. Feet tucked up, arms hugged around knees and her head resting on them in contemplation.

  He rubbed his stubble in a stress ridden attempt to steal himself for the difficult conversation he would now have to navigate.

  “Eliza?”

  She ignored him. Continuing to face straight ahead.

  “Eliza?” he crooned.

  Sitting next to her on the bench. Reaching out to put his hand on her leg. She flinched.

  “Eliza, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  Sunglasses masked the emotion in her eyes.

  “I’m truly sorry. I would have told you, but I didn’t know. I swear.”

  She calmly placed her feet on the floor and then pushed up and walked away from him towards the house.

  He watched her go. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he spat.

  His phone vibrating in his pocket. Yanking it out he curled his hand around the display to shade it from the sunlight. It was his mother. He hit the red button.

  Head heavy in his hands, he wondered what the right thing to do was. It was obvious she knew. She’d have seen the article, the paps outside would have made sure of that. It might have even been on the news. Or she might have received a call from an acquaintance, wanting to give her the low-down first. Concerned for her well-being. Not motivated by their own need to revel in her reaction, her sadness. No, in their twisted minds they would have been doing it all for her. For her own good. Just so she could see what Jonny was really like. It wasn’t permitted for them to have a perfect relationship; to love one another. That didn’t fit in with their idea of real life. These do-gooders revered real life and would do whatever it took for everyone else to want it too. Climbing higher up the moral ladder because they wanted to seek out the bleak truth and make everyone aware of it.

  His grandad came out of the annexe and sat down beside him.

  “Trouble lad?”

  “I’ve royally screwed up this time grandad.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “Suppose.”

  “Come on in then. We’ll have a cup of tea and talk it through. There’s always a solution to every problem.”

  Jonny followed his grandad into the kitchen.

  In their short time there his grandparents had made it homely. A dresser displaying their precious wedding crockery and handmade lace doilies. A wall hung photographic collage of all their family. Fresh flowers, a simple spray in the middle of a round country kitchen wooden table. Café style lace curtains at the windows.

  It was a welcoming place to be, different to the decrepit stately home come building site that was Jonny and Eliza’s house right now.

  “Your grandma’s gone for a lie down. She’s been getting up with the crack of sparrows recently, out in that garden, digging on her vegetable plot and tending to her flower beds.” He shook his head. “Then she’s knackered by ten.”

  He poured the old teabags and dark brown water from the teapot into the sink, swilled it out and replaced it with fresh tea and boiled water from the kettle on the stove. After refitting the crocheted cosy on the pot he placed it on the kitchen table. Jonny absentmindedly smoothed down the plastic flower printed table cloth.

  “So come on then lad, what’s the bother? Is it something to do with the photographers outside? I only know ‘cos the builders rang. They couldn’t get in, so they’re gonna leave it for today. Come back tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  His grandad swirled the teapot around, pouring some of the amber coloured steaming liquid into two cups.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “The papers have got hold of a story on me. They’ve found out I’ve got a son.”

  His grandad handed over the cup, without comment, letting Jonny continue with his confessional. His grandad taking on the role of priest.

  “A girl I was seeing before Eliza. She said she was pregnant, but I didn’t believe her. Perhaps I just didn’t want to believe her. Then before anybody really knew what happened she disappeared and now she’s claiming that I’ve got a son.”

  Jonny held the cup up to his chin. The steam prickling his skin. The unique smell, tangy.

  “So you’re not sure the boy’s yours?”

  “Well I wasn’t, but the papers are pretty convinced and the story kinda fits.”

  “So you’ve not seen him? Or talked to the mother?”

  “No I’ve not spoken to her. I’ve seen a picture of him though. The papers… I’m just so confused about it all. And Eliza.” He positioned the cup back down on the saucer and tugged a hand through his hair. “She’s completely pissed off with me. I’m worried I might lose her over this.”

  “You won’t. Don’t worry about Eliza. If all this is true, she’ll take a bit of time to get used to the idea, but she’ll come around. It’ll just have been a bit of a shock. And if it’s not true then you can just go back to how it was yesterday before any of this came about.”

  “What a freakin’ mess.”

  His grandad stretched out his arm and rubbed the back of Jonny’s hand. “So what you gonna do now.”

  “I don’t know. I need to talk to Eliza but she stormed off earlier.”

  “Well go to her now, lad. Don’t leave her stewing for too long. You know what women are like, building it up in their head to something it’s not. Just be honest and tell her what you know.”

  “Thanks.” He got up and kissed his grandad on the head.

  He walked across the garden and into the house; the commotion at the front of the drive irritating him.

  Eliza had locked herself in their bedroom.

  “Eliza?” He knocked on the door. “Eliza, Angel, let me in so we can talk about this.”

  No answer.

  “Please Eliza?”

  The heavy sound of the key turning in the stiff lock.

  He tentatively opened the door and walked in. She was climbing back on to the bed, facing away from him towards the window. He walked around the bed and as soon as he went near the window he saw the paparazzi camped outside the house waving wildly at him.

  He snatched at the curtains, roughly pulling them closed. “Bastards!” he muttered under his breath.

  Sitting next to her, he brushed her hair back off her tear stained face.

  “Eliza, Angel, I didn’t know this story was going to be published. If I did, I would have told you first.”

  “So it’s true then?” she whimpered softly.

  “Possibly.”

  “What the hell does that mean? Possibly? It either is or it isn’t.”

  He was taken aback at the switch in tone; the venom that hissed out of her.

  “It’s not as simple as that. I was seeing a girl before we got together and she did say that she was pregnant. But I didn’t believe it was mine. She also said she was going to terminate the pregnancy. But I don’t know for sure because she disappeared.”

  “So why is she talking about it now?”

  “I don’t know An
gel.”

  “Don’t you think you had better find out? See what she wants? See what your son wants?”

  “I don’t want this to come between us?”

  “Maybe that’s not your choice to make,” she said coldly and buried her face in the pillow. Her shoulders heaving.

  He placed his hand on her back.

  She flinched.

  “I don’t know what else to say Angel. I’m sorry.”

  No reply.

  “I’m going to see if I can sort this out. Please don’t be mad at me. None of this was deliberate and I really don’t want to hurt you. I love you.”

  Silence.

  “Do you want anything Angel?”

  Nothing.

  He rubbed her shoulder and kissed the back of her head before leaving the bedroom. The fragrant and familiar smell of her hair cruelly emphasising what he was in danger of losing if he didn’t sort this out and quickly.

  His mobile phone flashed to show Joe calling. He decided to answer it.

  “Joe,” he whispered, rushing down the stairs out of Eliza’s ear shot.

  “Jonny. Thank fuck I’ve got hold of you. Have you seen the papers?”

  “Yep.”

  “Shit Jonny. What a fucking mess. I’ve been trying to get hold of you for weeks now to tell you the shit was gonna hit the fan on this.”

  “What? You knew about this?”

  “Yeah of course. I’ve rung you loads but you’ve not returned my calls. I even left a cryptic voice mail about it, just in case Eliza picked up your messages. Rung your manager and everything. Shit Jonny. You know who it was don’t you who spilt the beans?”

  Jonny sat down on the bottom step.

  “Simon?”

  “Yeah. Look you can’t tell anyone that I’m telling you this. Right?”

  “Right”

  “You know he’s always had a thing against you? But he’s delusional you know. He thought you would agree to the US tour thing. And when you didn’t, he went to the papers. At first they didn’t want to know, but he persevered. I only found out ‘cos one of them came to the rehearsal studio to interview him and they were looking at pictures together of Helen and some kid.”

  “Fucking tosser. Wait ’til I get my hands on him.”

  “I know, but you can’t tell him it came from me. Look, I don’t know what went on really back then Jonny, but I know you and I don’t believe you would’ve walked away from Helen like that. Not if you knew she’d had your kid.”

  “Thanks Joe.”

  “Hey, I just wish I’d got hold of you sooner.”

  “I just don’t know what to do. There’s no details on Helen and where she is and I don’t want to have to talk to the papers about it ‘cos they’ll just want to print some more shit. Stuff that I didn’t say.”

  “Well I can help you out there Jonny. I know where she is. Well, where she works anyhow.”

  “Where?”

  “At the Vauxhall factory up in Luton.”

  “OK thanks Joe. I owe you one.”

  As soon as he hung up to Joe. The phone rang again. His mother. He decided to answer. If he didn’t, she would only keep on ringing him.

  “Jonny?” She sounded distraught.

  “Mum.”

  “Jonny. I never thought this would come out. After all these years. I’m so sorry son. We should have sorted this out properly at the time.”

  “Look Mum, don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault.”

  “How’s Eliza?”

  “Pissed off.”

  “Oh no Jonny. Is she speaking to you?”

  “Not really.”

  “Right I’m coming round.”

  “No mum, please don’t.”

  “She needs to know that this isn’t your fault.”

  “That’s not your concern mum. I’ll sort it. Please just leave us alone. We need some space.”

  “Well I was coming to see your grandma and grandad anyway.”

  “Fine, but leave me and Eliza to sort this out ourselves. Please?”

  A short pause before she answered. Reluctance oozing out with her words. “Yes okay Jonny, but let me know if you need anything. Anything at all. You hear me.”

  “Yes mum.”

  Without thinking he had walked the full length of the house and was now at the back, in the soon to be demolished kitchen.

  He looked at the row of whiskey bottles on the work top. Shook his head and walked off to the living room. He had enough problems without adding alcohol to them.

  Squinting his eyes, to make sure it wasn’t the sun playing tricks on him, he peered through the bay window. No. It was for real. The paps had now erected step ladders and were stood on top of them, snooping over the privet hedge with their long lens cameras.

  “Fuckers!”

  He yanked shut the curtains on them.

  His mobile rang again. He flung it onto one of the sofas. Pulling his hands through his hair he sat back on a sofa and looked up at the ceiling for inspiration. The door intercom blared out.

  “Why don’t they just fucking leave us alone?” he bellowed.

  Storming into the hall he switched the intercom onto silent, then went back into the living room in search of his phone.

  Hurriedly searching through his contacts for Jim Bob’s number before the damn thing rang again, stopping him from taking action. He hated these mobile phones. Why was it he had bought the frigging thing, paid the bill on it and all it did was ring when he didn’t want to be spoken to and beep annoyingly with texts from people he hardly knew?

  The only person he wanted to talk to was laid in his bed, ignoring him.

  He succeeded, pressing the speed dial code for Jim Bob before he was rudely interrupted.

  “Jonny? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you.”

  “Look JB I need you to sort this. It’s mental here. We’ve got hundreds of paps outside the house. They’re climbing over the hedge and everything. I need them gone.”

  “Okay I’ll get straight onto the Police.”

  “I also need to see Helen.”

  “Helen?”

  “Yeah, Helen, the girl that I’ve apparently got a son with?”

  “Look that’s not a good idea Jonny.”

  “To be honest, I don’t need an opinion on this one Jim Bob. I need to speak to her. I need to know what the frig is going on.”

  “Okay. It’s probably best if I speak to her first though. Pave the way, so to speak.”

  “Look JB, I don’t give a shit how you do it, just do it. I need to speak to her, like yesterday.”

  “Do you have any contact details for her? Address? phone number? There’s nothing in the newspaper report.”

  “All I know is she works at the Vauxhall place in Luton.”

  “Okay I’ll get a PI on the case.”

  “A PI? What like a private investigator?”

  “Yeah. We need to know her movements. How best to contact her without alerting the press? A PI can do that.”

  “Ughh. Okay. But I need this sorting pronto. Eliza is really not happy with this and I can’t leave it for long.”

  “I can imagine.”

  As soon as he hung up the phone rang again. Unknown number. He hit the red button.

  Slouching on the sofa he contemplated his position. Trying to recall the events six years ago when Helen had told him she was pregnant. They had just been given their first break with Crash and he was about to head off on a UK tour with them. It was all a jumble in his mind. Did he just fob her off? He could remember her telling him, but he was convinced at the time it wasn’t his. Why was that?

  But that photo?

  What was he going to do?

  He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. Hoping the answer would conveniently float in.

  His phone rang again. He snapped his eyes open and looked at the display. His mother.

  “What?” he barked. He didn’t mean to be rude, but he was. This was turning out to be the worst day of his lif
e.

  “Jonny I’m outside but the intercom’s not working.”

  “I turned it off.”

  He stomped into the hallway and pressed the buzzer. Through the door glazing he could see his mother hurtling onto the drive in her small hatchback.

  He hesitated before pushing the button once again to close the gate. Half of him wanted the paps to come onto his drive, just so he could go out and beat the living daylights out of them.

  He could see the flashing blue lights of a Police car reflecting on the white vans parked up on the opposite pavements.

  At least Jim Bob was on the case.

  His mother opened the front door, complaining as soon as the key turned in it.

  “It’s complete chaos out there, and you wouldn’t believe what some stuck up neighbour has just said to me. That riff-riff like us shouldn’t move into a nice area and bring trouble. Who do they think they are?”

  Jonny just ignored her. He had bigger things to worry about than the neighbours.

  Like Eliza.

  He went into the kitchen to make her a cup of tea and take it up as a peace offering. Shit, he had to do something even though he knew tea alone wasn’t going to sort this mess out.

  His mother followed him.

  “So what’s the latest?”

  “I thought you was coming to see grandma and grandad?”

  “I am, but can’t I ask even my own son how he is?”

  “Yes mum, sorry, but I’m just stressed out right now.”

  “Okay, I won’t hassle you, I’ll go through and see them. Let Eliza know that we love her and we’ll all get through this together.” She rubbed his arm.

  He ignored her, looking out into the garden whilst the kettle boiled. The noise of it bubbling away drowning out whatever else she had to say on the matter.

  Taking the cup of green tea up to Eliza, he wasn’t sure what he was going to say.

  She was still laid on the bed.

  “I’ve brought you some tea Eliza.”

  He sat down on the edge of the bed.

  “Talk to me Angel.”

  She rolled over to face him. Her eyes reddened from crying.

  “I really didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “I know you didn’t Jonny.”

  “And I’m not really sure what’s going on here. Jim Bob is going to find out. He’s getting a private investigator in to get some more details. Check out the story.”