by Amiee Louise
I laugh as Joel’s voice, thick with sleep, fills my ears.
“Good morning to you too, babe. I’m sure you can put Mr. Tatum on ice, because I need a favour, please?”
He chuckles softly.
“What can I do for you on this fine morning, honey?”
I pause before I begin to ask him.
“I need you to take me to the airport, please, Joel,” I ask him nervously, and he sighs.
“Are we losing you to London, sweet cheeks?” he says in his soft, American twang that has become familiar to me.
“I’m afraid so, babe. I’m sorry. Look, something happened between Remy and me last night. I’ll explain when I see you, but I can’t do goodbyes, Joel. I just can’t. I need you to take me and Freddie to the airport.”
I hear the creak of his bed.
“Of course. Anything for you and the little guy. Did you do the nasty with Mr. Tall, Dark and Brooding?”
Joel chuckles wickedly, and I giggle girlishly at his question.
“A lady never kisses and tells!”
He snorts.
“I’ll have you singing like a fucking budgie by the time Aunty Joel is finished with you!” he says dramatically and we both laugh. “Right, honey, I’ll grab a shower, and I’ll come get you. You bet your fine ass the coffees on you though. Be ready, hugs.”
I hear the phone click off before I say goodbye, and I start to think how much I will miss the life I have become accustomed to, here in Santa Monica, and the friends I am about to leave behind. I think of the man, who is currently sound asleep in my bed, unaware that the woman he is madly, deeply in love with is about to leave him without saying goodbye. Fuck me, I’m such a bitch. It has to be this way, I can’t allow him to see me before I leave. There are too many reasons why I should stay and continue my life here. However, there are also equal reasons why I should go. One being the fact that Remy told me he loves me. I wish to God I could say it back to him, but I don’t love him the way he loves me.
I have that to explain to him, but I can’t do it in person because I’m a fucking coward. I can’t write it a letter because there’s too much I have to say. While I am inwardly warring with myself, I hear the sound of Joel’s car pull into the driveway. I rush into the nursery to grab a sleeping Freddie and our luggage. I strap him into his carrycot, trying desperately not to wake him up. I take Freddie outside and see Joel in his electric pink Chevy Camaro SS convertible. Every time I see him driving it, it makes me miss my car desperately. He is in the driver seat, wearing a white vest, sunglasses and his blonde hair is perfectly styled.
“Beep, beep bitch!” He laughs. “Your carriage awaits! If I had a hat, I’d be sure to tip it!”
He winks animatedly, and he steps out of the car to give me a hand. He takes Freddie, and I go back for the rest of my luggage. As I grab the handle of my suitcase, I look up to see Remy’s tall, looming figure, standing in the doorway. Fuck.
He is wearing only a pair of grey Calvin Klein boxer shorts, the light grey of the boxers contrasting with the bronze of his skin. He has his hands on his hips, and the look in his eyes all but breaks my heart.
“You were just going to leave, without saying goodbye?” he asks incredulously, and I shake my head.
“I’m not good with goodbyes, Rem,” I say, with a slight waver to my voice.
He hangs his head and laughs bitterly.
“And you think I am? Fuck me! I know last night was a one-time thing, I was under no illusion that we were going to walk off into the sunset together, but I at least deserved some sort of fucking goodbye.”
A tear slips free from my eye, and I angrily swipe it away.
“This is exactly why I don’t do goodbyes, Remy.”
He stalks forward, still wearing just his boxers and he stops in front of me. He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear and pulls me to him, enveloping me in his arms. It takes everything I have to hold it together at the feel of his strong, familiar arms around me.
“I’m not pissed, beaut; I’m hurt, so fucking hurt. If you’re going to go, just go,” he whispers flatly in my ear.
Remy releases me from his warm embrace, and I feel bereft as the torrent of tears I’ve been holding back, burst free. He kisses my forehead tenderly, turns around, and walks away.
The twenty-minute drive to the airport is filled with my quiet, inconsolable sobs and Joel’s whispered words of sympathy and reassurance. He pulls up outside LAX, and he helps me with our luggage and Freddie, who is now wide awake and smiling his cheeky dimpled grin, reminding me so much of Sam. Joel towers over me and looks into my eyes.
"It's been an adventure, sweet cheeks, even though you weren't who I thought you were. You've been such a good friend to me, to us all."
His voice shakes, and I swallow back the lump that has formed in my throat. I'll never forget the friends I made over this past year, and I hope we'll always stay in touch. He pulls me into his arms, and I hug him tightly.
"Don't you dare cry, you'll set me off. We won't say goodbye, just...see ya later alligator. And you bet your lily-white ass, that if I'm ever in London, I'll be sure to look you up."
He pulls away and winks, with tears in his eyes.
"You'll always be welcome, babe, and thank you, for everything."
He takes my hand and squeezes it reassuringly.
"It's been a pleasure, Peyton. I know if you could have told me you would have, and I'm sure B and Henley will understand."
He plants a kiss on the back of my hand.
"And I'll be damn sure to keep Mr Tall, Dark and Brooding warm for you!"
He winks, and we both laugh.
"Now go, before I start sobbing like a big girl! Don't be a stranger, sweet cheeks."
He kisses me gently on the lips; I pick Freddie's carrycot up and pull my luggage behind me.
"Love ya, Joel."
I blow him a kiss, and he sobs softly.
"Right back at ya, sweet stuff. Now go and don't you dare look back."
I smile to myself and walk into the airport, away from the life I’ve built for myself for the past year. I'm going back to the life I left behind, diving in at the deep end and back into the unknown.
I am settled in my seat in economy bound for Heathrow airport, London. After take-off, Freddie fell asleep, and I am sitting here contemplating what the fuck I'm going to do when I get back to London. Will I get my job back at Saint Sinner? Will the people I left behind be different with me? Will the press be waiting for me when we land in London? Those are the thoughts that linger in my already crowded mind as I drift off into a fitful sleep somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. I am woken by a flight attendant, just as we’re landing at Heathrow. My stomach somersaults at the thought of being back in the U.K. I grab my hand luggage, Freddie’s carrycot, and wait until the plane is virtually empty before I start to make my way down the aisle. As I step off the plane and back onto British soil, the thought that dominates my overactive brain is, welcome back to London, Peyton. It's been a while.
43
Peyton
I hail a local taxi outside Heathrow to take me back to my old flat in Camden. The journey takes an hour, due to the rush hour traffic. As we pull up outside my flat, I pay the driver and jerk the keys that Sam gave me the last time I saw him out of my pocket. I make my way apprehensively into the building that houses my old flat. Jimmy, the doorman from Sam's old building in Greenwich, is on the concierge desk. He tips his hat, and I nod as I head for the lift. I drag my luggage and Freddie's carrycot inside. The lift stops at my floor, and I can't help thinking that something is familiar, yet so different. I walk to the door and unlock the large white reinforced door to my flat. Home. The place where I felt safe, my sanctuary, looks so… different. I push open the door; it looks as if it has been knocked into the flat next door too.
The living room is larger; the kitchen is filled with brand new state of the art appliances, including a cooker, microwave, kettle and a coffee machine. I
t looks so much more open and lighter. As I take in the large, empty space that was once my old flat, I break down. I let the tears that have been building up inside of me fall down my cheeks in large rivers of sorrow. I slide down the wall and onto the floor, unable to bear the weight of the sadness I feel crushing me any longer. I put my head in my hands, and I sob. I sob harder than I’ve sobbed in a long time, gut-wrenching wails of utter despair. My life as I once knew it, is gone. The clean, bare walls and the empty space that I once called home is just another shell. A cold, stark shell.
I hear a soft tap on the open door, and I look up into the shocked eyes of my neighbour, Danny Debonair, as his alter ego, Debs. He is dressed in full drag, wearing a short, red, sequinned dress, which makes his long, smooth, tanned legs look amazing and put mine to absolute shame. He has thick makeup on, smoky eyes, red lipstick, a long, thick, dark brown curly wig, perfectly manicured, blood red nails and six-inch, red glittery stilettos. He looks like a million dollars, and if I didn’t know he was a man dressed as a woman, I would genuinely think he was a real woman. His pouty red lips form a perfect 'O' shape, as he takes me in.
“Fuck me backwards, baby girl.”
His high pitched but soft voice, only makes me cry harder.
“Oh, come here.”
He sinks down to the floor next to me and pulls me into his lean arms.
“Shhh, I’ve got you. It’s going to be alright,” he soothes and strokes my hair gently.
He looks at Freddie’s carrycot on the floor next to me and cocks his perfectly plucked eyebrow.
“Fuck me, we’ve got some catching up to do.”
I look up at him and offer him a watery smile.
“I’ve missed you, Debs.” I choke out, and he cups my face in his manicured hands.
When he is in drag, he likes people to call him by his drag name.
“I’ve missed you too, so much. Now, are you going to fill Aunty Debs in on what the fuck is going on and why you look like you’ve lost a tenner and found a pound?”
He smiles softly.
“Why are you not mad, Debs?”
He strokes my hair with his hand and kisses me on the forehead.
“Because a certain little gossip whore called me and told me that you were alive! Must be those pregnancy hormones, but she couldn't wait to fill me in on all the gory details.”
He winks, and I smile. I might have known Ruby would have called him.
“It’s all such a huge fucking mess, Debs. I’ve messed up so epically, and I don’t know how I’ll ever make it right.”
I sob softly, and he shakes his head.
“I think we’re going to need something strong for this conversation, baby girl.”
He reaches into his red patent clutch bag and pulls out a bottle of vodka. He unscrews the lid and winks, offering me a sip.
“I never go anywhere without this, babe, liquid courage. It’s five-o clock somewhere in the world!”
He smiles warmly as I take a long pull on the vodka, and I relish the burn of the smooth fiery liquid as it slides down my throat, instantly warming my stomach. I offer the bottle back to Debs, and he takes it, screwing the lid back on.
“Good girl. Now come on spill, tell Aunty Debs everything. And don’t you dare bloody miss anything out.”
He winks, and I lean back against the wall. He slings his arm around me in a gesture of comfort, and I begin to fill him in on the past year. Leaving nothing out, I start to tell him about J.D, the fucking evil, despicable things he did to me, getting away from him to protect me and my son, Remy, rebuilding my life in Santa Monica under a new identity, giving birth to Freddie, and everything that happened in between, up until I was temporarily reunited with Sam. I choose to leave out sex with Remy. That's a story for another time.
“Wow! Fuck me.”
He puffs out his cheeks, lets out a breath, and wipes a stray tear from his overly made up eye.
“You’ve definitely been through the wringer and then some.”
He sniffles as he hands me back the bottle of vodka.
“Take the fucking bottle, you need it more than me, babe!”
He chuckles, and I manage to laugh right along with him.
“It sounds like the plot to one of those trashy erotic fiction books that Ruby reads!”
I sigh.
“Something tells me this story isn’t going to have a happy ending, Debs. I broke his heart by telling him I couldn’t be with him. I don’t deserve his forgiveness.”
Danny sighs. He throws his arm around my shoulder, and I snuggle into him.
"From the moment I met that boy, he had heartbreaker written all over him. It's good you got there first. It might be the old queen in me, but he's got nothing to forgive you for. You were doing what was right for you and your son, who by the way, is the cutest little human I've ever seen!”
I lay down and curl up on the floor, with my head resting in his lap. He strokes my hair softly, and I suddenly feel exhausted, mentally and emotionally.
“He would show up here every day without fail. The first few months were the worst. He would show up here with a bottle of vodka every time I left for work, and he was an absolute mess. I would get back from the club, usually in the early hours of the morning, and I would hear him crying; I mean like proper sobbing, it was fucking awful. A few times, I thought about knocking on the door, but I didn’t know how he would react to a six-foot bloke in a dress!”
We both laugh, and he continues to stroke my hair gently.
“Things have a habit of working themselves out, baby girl. He wouldn't have knocked into the flat next door if you didn't mean anything to him. He turned up with a team of workmen around a week ago, and they worked all hours of the day, just to get it finished. Besides, if things don’t work out, the way to get over one man is to get under another!”
He winks, and I sit up. If only he knew. He wipes a tear from my eye with the pad of his thumb.
“Look, I'm not comfortable leaving you alone, right now. How about I call in sick, and we can catch up some more?”
I nod, happy he suggested it, because I really don't want to be alone right now.
“I’d really like that, thanks, Debs.”
He pulls me in for a hug and kisses my cheek. He pulls me to my feet.
“You're welcome. Give me five minutes, and I’m all yours.”
He blows me a kiss and leaves the flat. Twenty minutes pass, and he’s back clutching two bottles of white wine, two glasses, and a corkscrew. He has changed into a purple velour tracksuit, UGG boots, and he is still wearing his full makeup. His dark hair is flat and unstyled after removing his wig. He closes the door with his foot and places the bottle, along with the glasses, down on the floor. He sits down on the floor, in the middle of the bare living room, with his legs crossed and gestures for me to sit down with him. I sit down with Freddie in my lap.
“I’ve called in sick at work, after an Oscar-worthy performance!"
He fakes a cough, and I chuckle.
"I’ve ordered a meat feast pizza with extra mushrooms, cheesy garlic bread, and BBQ chicken wings, your favourite, baby girl.”
I smile at his thoughtfulness. He knows me so well. We spend the next couple of hours catching up on the past year, filling in the gaps. By the time I have finished, it’s like I was never away. We are both suitably tipsy, and Freddie is asleep in his carrycot. I yawn, and Danny laughs.
“Fucking lightweight,” he mocks, and I childishly stick my tongue out.
“Jet lag is a bitch, babe. I think I might head to bed, if that’s ok?”
He nods, as he finishes his wine.
“Yeah, of course, baby girl. You look cream crackered. Get some sleep, and I’ll pop back in the morning to check on you; take care.”
He winks, and I hug him tightly. I have missed him so much.
“Good to have you back, gorgeous.”
He turns around, blows me a kiss and leaves. I leave the glasses and the pizza box on the
floor. I’m so exhausted; all I want to do is go to sleep. I change Freddie’s nappy and I navigate my way around my flat. I open the door to one of the bedrooms and find it completely furnished. There is even a cot for Freddie, with a guitar-shaped mobile above it next to a king size bed. I have no doubt in my mind that this is Sam’s doing. He really has thought of everything. The mountain of pillows on the bed looks so inviting, that I almost dive headfirst into them. I open the second door and step into the bathroom. I am overwhelmed by the white, black and silver decor, a corner Jacuzzi bath, a large glass, walk-in shower, with what looks like a built-in surround sound system, a glass sink and a large gilded mirror over the counter. The floor has light grey floor tiles, and the walls are adorned with silver, black and white mosaic tiles. I splash some cold water on my face and look at my reflection in the mirror. I have dark circles underneath my eyes, and I look like I feel tired, so fucking tired. I make my way into the bedroom and pick Freddie’s sleeping form up, laying him gently down in the cot. I pull the blackout blind down and collapse fully clothed on the bed. Soon, I am a slave to sleep.
