Lex sat in guilty silence. It was so incredibly unlike Leila to go off the deep end, he knew he must have pushed her there. There was also the uncomfortable fact that everything she said about him and Kendall was true. True and embarrassing. He didn’t want to be that person, the schmuck who always put Kendall first. Not any more. But at the same time he couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. Her loneliness was palpable, and her anguish over Jack. There was more to her than the spoiled bitch that Leila saw. Still, it was no excuse.
‘Are you in love with her?’
Leila had pulled over to ask the question. To Lex’s horror, she was crying properly now.
He took her hand. ‘No.’ At that moment he didn’t know whether that was the truth or not, but it was the only answer he could give.
‘And what about me? Are you in love with me?’
‘You know I love you,’ Lex answered carefully. ‘Look, I know I was a jerk today, Leila, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you.’
Leila looked him in the eye. ‘If you’re really sorry, promise me you won’t see Kendall again while she’s here.’
Lex hesitated. He thought about the look on Kendall’s face when he left just now, the desolation beneath the put-on smiles. Those girls she was with weren’t friends. They wouldn’t support her. All they cared about was being vicariously associated with fame and money. But if he turned his back on her, they were all Kendall would be left with.
Then he thought about Leila, all the happiness she’d brought him, the love, the unwavering loyalty and support. He knew he had no choice.
‘OK,’ he said. ‘If it means that much to you, I promise. I won’t see her again.’
The next five days were hell on earth for Kendall. The morning after her disastrous run-in with Jack, she received a furious email from her record company, swiftly followed by numerous phone calls, all demanding that she return to the UK immediately or consider herself in breach of contract.
Kendall was pretty sure this was bullshit. Polydor didn’t own her, and she was entitled to take some personal time. In normal circumstances she would have had her manager calm the waters, but as Ivan still hadn’t made any contact with her whatsoever, she was damned if she was going to be the first one to call. So she picked up the phone to Lex (he was a manager now, after all, and ought to have some advice as to how to handle this sort of hysteria), only to be told that his stupid-ass girlfriend had forbidden him to have any more contact with her.
‘Are you serious?’ Kendall exploded down the phone. ‘You let your girlfriend choose your friends?’
‘It’s not like that,’ said Lex.
‘How is it not like that? Jesus, Lexy, I’m sorry but you need to grow a pair.’
‘You’re not sorry,’ Lex snapped. ‘That’s your problem, Kendall, you’re never sorry for anything. I don’t suppose it occurred to you that the reason Leila’s so upset with you is that you were unforgivably rude yesterday?’
Kendall hung up – she didn’t have time for this crap. The phone rang immediately. Evidently the chief executive of Polydor viewed her abscondment as serious enough to warrant a personal call from the top. Halfway through his diatribe, Kendall shouted into the receiver, ‘Listen, asshole, my dad’s got cancer, OK? So quit giving me a hard time and back the fuck off,’ and hung up feeling mildly satisfied. By the time anyone figured out that Vernon Bryce was actually in rude health, Kendall would be back in the studio and all this drama would be over.
The irony was, she would happily have flown back to London on the next plane. There could be no disguising it now, her trip to LA had been a disaster. Her family were too busy to see her, Jack was clearly nowhere near forgiveness, and now even Lex was giving her the cold shoulder. The thought of spending the next however-many-days in the company of acquaintances and hangers-on was an even lonelier prospect than being by herself. But she couldn’t go back to Ivan with her tail between her legs, not having made such a grand, dramatic gesture. If she did that, whatever tenuous hold she still had over him would unravel completely. It would only be a matter of time till she and Ivan were history. She had to get him to crack first.
A day passed, then another, then another. No one called. Kendall’s initial relief when the record company stopped hassling her was soon replaced by panic. What if they were quiet because they were figuring out a way to sue, to try to claw back their advances? Most worrying of all, though, was Ivan’s continued radio silence. Had he left her? Moved out of the Chelsea flat? She scoured the Internet for recent pictures or reports about him since she’d been away, looking for clues as to his state of mind. But other than a few fluff pieces about his bond with Ava Bentley, and a single shot of him looking relaxed walking into the Talent Quest studios, Starbucks in hand, she had nothing to go on. At least he was in London and not holed up in the countryside with his wife. But he certainly didn’t seem to be missing her.
After five days cooling her heels at the Chateau, with shopping and spa trips the only thing to break the monotony of her days, Kendall finally snapped. She couldn’t live in this limbo for ever. She had to do something. With a sinking heart, she dialled Sasha Dale’s number.
‘Ah, the prodigal daughter.’ Kendall’s publicist couldn’t hide her delight. ‘I was wondering when you’d call. You’re in a hole and you want out of it, right? OK, kid. Get a pen. Here’s what you’re gonna do …’
Lex was at Gold’s Gym on Venice beach, working out with Gunther, his personal trainer, when he got the call.
‘Kendall, calm down.’ He held the phone away from his ear, trying to catch some words between the deafening sobs. ‘I can barely make out what you’re saying.’
‘My chest!’ Kendall wailed hysterically. ‘Lex, I need you. There’s something wrong with my … I think I’m having a heart attack!’
Lex sat up and pressed the phone back to his ear. ‘Have you taken anything?’
There was silence on the other end of the line.
‘Kendall! What have you taken?’
Her voice came back, frail and pitiful, like a little girl’s. ‘I need you, Lex. I think I’m dying.’
Lex could hear her gasping for breath and felt his own heart rate shoot through the roof. ‘It’s OK, sweetheart. You’re not dying. Are you at the hotel?’
Kendall whimpered her assent. She told Lex her room number.
‘Just stay where you are,’ said Lex. ‘I’m on my way.’
‘Anything I can do?’ asked Gunther as his client sprinted back to his car.
‘Yeah,’ Lex called over his shoulder. ‘Call nine-one-one. Tell them it’s a suspected overdose, twenty-five-year-old woman. She’s at the Chateau Marmont, suite two-seventeen.’
All the way back to Hollywood, weaving in and out of traffic like a madman, Lex wrestled with his guilt. He should never have abandoned Kendall. He saw how vulnerable she was last week, how close to the edge, but he’d let Leila talk him into walking away. If something serious had happened, he would never forgive himself.
The drive was torture, like one of those dreams when someone’s chasing you and you’re trying to run for your life but your legs are mired in treacle. The traffic seemed slower than ever, and none of the usual rat-runs or short-cuts worked. It took him almost forty minutes to reach the hotel and another ten to convince the staff to let him see Kendall.
‘I was the one who called the ambulance, OK? She begged me to come to her. Please. I have information the doctors need to know.’
When he finally got to Kendall’s room, the scene was remarkably calm. Kendall was lying back in bed, with a paramedic at either side, breathing slowly in and out of a paper bag. She looked pale and tiny and frightened, but not like a woman at death’s door.
‘Are you Lex?’ one of the paramedics asked.
Lex nodded.
‘Good,’ the man smiled. ‘She’s been asking for you.’
‘What happened? I’ve been driving like a maniac. I … I thought she’d OD’d.’
‘You did the
right thing to call us,’ said the paramedic, reassuringly. ‘But she’s fine. There are no drugs in her system.’
‘Then what?’
‘She’s been having a panic attack. Very unpleasant, but not physically dangerous. Panic attack sufferers often experi-ence acute chest pains. The symptoms are similar to cardiac arrest, so you can’t take any chances.’
Lex paused a moment to let the full import of what the doctor was saying sink in. He sat down on the end of Kendall’s bed, dizzy with relief.
‘You’ll be OK now, honey,’ the other paramedic said. Having checked that her blood pressure and pulse were normal, he began packing up his things.
‘If you need us again, you can call any time,’ said his colleague. ‘Don’t be embarrassed.’
Kendall looked up from the paper bag and smiled weakly. ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘Sorry for all the trouble.’
When she and Lex were alone, she asked timidly, ‘I guess you’re mad at me too. I’m sorry. I didn’t know who else to call.’
‘I’m not mad.’ Scooching up to the top of the bed he laid a hand on her forehead. ‘And it’s me who should be sorry. What brought all this on?’
‘I don’t know.’ She bit her lower lip. ‘The thought of going back to London, I guess. Oh, Lex! I’ve made such a mess of everything.’
She started to cry. Instinctively, Lex put his arms around her. Kendall pressed her body against him. Lex could feel the soft, pillowy swell of her breasts beneath her T-shirt and smell the sweet coconut lotion on her skin. A wave of pure physical longing swept over him, so violent he felt like crying himself. Instead he held Kendall as long as she wanted, then listened while she sank back on the pillows and poured out her heart to him about London, her homesickness, problems with Ivan and fears that she’d made a terrible mistake in her career.
‘It was so much money,’ she sobbed. ‘And Ivan seemed so sure it was the right move. But now he’s caught up with Talent Quest, and if my next album doesn’t break every record in the book, there’s no way Polydor will renew my contract. But of course, they’re barely promoting it because they took such a bath on the first disc. You know how it is.’
Lex nodded sagely. Very few record labels these days stuck with their artists for the long haul.
‘I’d quit and pay back the money if I could,’ sniffed Kendall, ‘but it’s too late. No one in the US will touch me now.’
‘I’m sure that’s not true,’ said Lex soothingly. ‘You burned some bridges, but at the end of the day it’s talent that matters. It’s your voice.’
‘You really think so?’ Kendall brightened for a moment. Then she looked at him and said softly, ‘Why are you so good to me, Lex?’ Reaching up she stroked his cheek, slowly tracing a finger along the line of his lips.
Every nerve, every sinew in Lex’s body buzzed into life. He’d wanted her so badly, and for so long, he hardly dared believe this was real.
‘What do you want from me, Kendall?’ he whispered.
In reply she sat up and pressed her lips to his. It was a gentle kiss, more tender than passionate. Closing his eyes, Lex allowed the pleasure of it to sweep through him in a few seconds of purest joy. But as Kendall finally pulled away and lay back again, smiling, he found he felt not happy but profoundly uneasy. As if he were somehow being played for a fool.
‘Will you stay with me today?’ asked Kendall. ‘We haven’t talked properly in so long, Lex.’
‘I don’t know.’ Lex hesitated. Quite apart from his work commitments, Leila might call at any minute. How the hell was he supposed to explain the fact that he was holed up at the Chateau with Kendall. ‘I have to get back to the office at some point.’
‘At least stay for lunch.’ The desperation in Kendall’s voice was painful. Whichever way he turned, Lex felt guilty. ‘You can order room service and we’ll have it on the terrace. Please, Lex. Just lunch.’
‘OK,’ he said, earning himself another kiss from Kendall as she bounded off the bed and into the bathroom. For a girl who thought she was dying an hour and a half ago, she seemed to have made a quite miraculous recovery.
Lex dialled down for two Cobb salads and a fruit plate. He would have a quick bite with Kendall, make sure she was OK, then drive straight to the office. Tonight, after work, he’d explain everything to Leila. Well, perhaps not everything. But enough for her to see that this was an emergency, something unexpected that he’d been forced to respond to in the heat of the moment.
When Kendall emerged onto the balcony, the moment got considerably hotter. She’d showered, but instead of dressing, had slipped into a barely there, shocking-pink La Perla silk robe. Beneath it Lex could clearly see the lace trim on her matching pink bra, and when she sat down and crossed her legs got more than a flash of her smooth, brown inner thighs.
‘Ooo, salad,’ she gushed, attacking her plate with gusto. ‘My favourite.’
Lex, whose mouth seemed unaccountably to have turned to sandpaper, said nothing. After a few moments, Kendall reached across the table and took his hand. ‘Is something the matter? I don’t bite, you know.’
‘I’m fine,’ he said. ‘Just … thinking.’
Pushing back her chair, Kendall walked barefoot to the other side of the tiny table and climbed up onto his lap. ‘About what? You can tell me. We’re friends, aren’t we?’
‘Of course we’re friends,’ stammered Lex. He could feel his erection growing beneath Kendall’s bare legs and was sure she must be able to feel it too. As intoxicating as it was to touch her and have her in his arms, there was something jarring about her sudden need for physical contact. ‘But this is … more than friendly. Wouldn’t you say?’
Kendall threw back her head and laughed, which made her robe slip open even further. ‘You’re so coy! Funny, after all these years I never would have had you down as the prudish type. Aren’t you attracted to me?’
‘You know I am,’ said Lex almost angrily. ‘But I’m with someone. You know that too.’
‘Only if you want to be,’ said Kendall, leaning in to kiss him again. Just as she moved, something caught Lex’s eye. On an opposite balcony, a few floors above them, a man was watching them. Too late Lex saw his Canon camera, its zoom lens pointed right at their table.
He sprang to his feet. ‘Hey! HEY!’ he yelled, pointing at the balcony. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ Unperturbed, the paparazzo kept snapping. Lex grabbed Kendall by the arm and dragged her back into the bedroom, drawing the curtains behind him.
‘What the fuck is going on?’ he demanded.
‘Nothing,’ Kendall said innocently. ‘What do you mean?’
‘The photographer,’ said Lex, exasperated. ‘You know what those pictures are gonna look like. They’re gonna look like we’re having an …’ The words died on his lips as the penny dropped. ‘Oh my God.’ He backed away from her. ‘You set this up, didn’t you?’
‘Set what up?’ said Kendall.
‘That’s why you were all over me!’ Lex warmed to his theme. ‘Why you wanted to eat on the balcony. So the paparazzi you tipped off could get a good, clean shot. You staged this whole thing.’
Kendall pouted, belting her robe defensively around her waist. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Paparazzi are part of my life, they always have been. You know that. Why would I want somebody to take pictures of you and me together?’
‘I have no idea,’ shouted Lex, who wasn’t buying Kendall’s butter-wouldn’t-melt routine for a second. ‘Maybe you want to screw things up for me and Leila. Or maybe you want to make Jack jealous.’
‘I couldn’t care less about Jack!’ blurted Kendall hotly.
‘All I know is you used me, and frankly, I don’t give a shit why. I don’t deserve that, Kendall. I came over here because I thought you were dying.’
‘I thought so too!’ insisted Kendall. But for the first time a hint of a blush had appeared on her cheeks and her eyes flickered with guilt.
‘Bullshit,’ said Lex. He looked at her with such loathing, such
disgust, she couldn’t help but feel ashamed. ‘What kind of sociopath fakes a heart attack just so they can set up some bogus pictures? You make me sick.’
Lex strode furiously to the door. Kendall stood by the bed looking small and fragile, but Lex felt no sympathy. He’d always known she could be selfish and manipulative. But he’d never imagined she could be so calculatingly cruel, especially not to him. He felt as if someone had plunged a knife into his chest.
He hesitated in the doorway. ‘Whoever it is whose attention you’re trying to get, I hope it was worth it. Because you just lost a friend.’
Kendall said nothing, just stood and watched as the door slammed shut behind him.
Two days later, curled up under a blanket in the upper-class cabin of Virgin Atlantic Flight Twenty-Three to London, Kendall found it difficult to sleep. The pictures of her with Lex had been published on TMZ and Perez Hilton’s website within hours, and by yesterday morning the story of her ‘affair’ was global news.
Sasha Dale, naturally, was delighted. Even better, Ivan had called her, frantically begging her to come home. ‘I know I’ve pushed you away, Kendall. But I promise you’ll be my number one priority if you come back to me.’
‘What about Ava? And your “family commitments”?’ The last two words dripped with sarcasm.
‘I’ll do whatever it takes to make it work,’ pleaded Ivan. ‘I need you, Kendall. I need you in my life and I need you in my bed. And I know deep down you need me too.’
‘You’ll have to pull your finger out with Polydor,’ said Kendall. ‘They’re pissed as hell with me for coming out here. I need a manager who can defend me. A manager who actually gives a shit about my career.’
‘I do give a shit,’ said Ivan. ‘When you get back here, I’ll prove it. You’re gonna be the biggest thing since Lady Gaga.’
As a strategy, the Lex pictures couldn’t have gone better. Ivan had cracked. She was going home. But Kendall felt hideously guilty. The shame and sadness, knowing she’d betrayed Lex in the most manipulative and awful of ways, sat heavily in the pit of her stomach like a rock. She tried to tell herself that Lex would be OK. The ghastly Leila would doubtless forgive him. At the end of the day he hadn’t actually done anything with Kendall, other than have lunch. He’d be able to explain and repair the relationship. But Kendall and Lex’s friendship was damaged beyond repair, and for this she knew she had only herself to blame. The look of disgust on Lex’s face as he left her hotel room would stay imprinted on Kendall’s memory for a long, long time.