We finally crawled into the hotel and had about two hours’ sleep before getting up for the flight to New York – 8 AM on New Year’s Day. That was brutal. I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to mum. I called her from the airport to wish her a happy New Year. I couldn’t even say when I’d see her again.
On the plus side, the plane was nearly empty and we slept most of the way.
We were staying at the Bowery Hotel on Manhattan’s Lower East Side. Honey had liaised with the studio to book me a room, but I didn’t know where they’d stashed Lilia. I didn’t care much either, I just didn’t want to run into her by accident.
Clare laughed.
“Are you kidding me? I’d love to run into her by accident!” and she flexed her biceps. At least, I think that’s what she was doing.
Yeah, even though Clare was a Literature student, I don’t think she understood the whole concept of ‘accident’ and ‘deliberate’. I guess it was kind of easy to get them confused.
But when we turned up for the press junket the next day, Clare got her wish.
I was standing backstage, I mean, in another room, waiting for everything to kick off, when Lilia swept in looking like she owned the damn place.
I had to hand it to her, she had style.
“Happy New Year, darling!” she said, a beaming smile lighting up her face.
She really was beautiful.
I didn’t mean to be rude, but when she tried to kiss my cheek, I craned my head away from her.
She looked angry, but then covered it up with a playful pout. Instead, she linked her arm through mine and smiled up at me.
“Did you have a wonderful New Year? Mine was fun, but I missed you. What did you do?”
“He went out with his girlfriend!” came an icy voice from behind me.
Who needed the cavalry when Clare was around?
Clare
Lilia practically growled at me. Enough barbs were shooting from her eyes to have ventilated me severely.
“What are you doing here?” she snarled.
“I invited her,” said Miles, calmly. “Like she said, we’re together now. Clare’s my girlfriend.”
Lilia tore her arm free and marched off without a word.
“Wow,” said Miles, an amused smile lifting the corners of his mouth, “you pissed her off in less than three seconds. I think that’s a record.”
I rolled my eyes. “I piss her off by breathing. You’re the one who pissed her off in less than three seconds.”
He leaned down to kiss me. “Yeah, we make a great team.”
At that moment, they were all called onto the platform in the conference room. Jo-Anne led the way, followed by Lilia, Miles and Donald Hyde.
I was getting sick of seeing his shiny, botoxed face, and I think it was mutual because his lip always curled when he looked at me. Although that might have been from the plastic surgery. I hadn’t said anything to Miles about how Hyde behaved around me, because I didn’t want him to get arrested for thumping someone again.
Rhonda was there, too, and gave me a quick head nod. Wow, that was the most effusive she’d been with me – progress. Well, to be fair, we’d sort of reached an entente when the scandal about Lilia first broke and after the interview debacle. Whatever, she seemed to be coming around to my presence. Yeah, well, she’d bloody have to!
The journalists’ questions were fairly benign and straightforward, asking about the possibility of a sequel, asking about how it felt to be in a hit movie, and so on and so on.
Miles was funny and charming; Lilia smiled a lot, but managed to say absolutely nothing when she spoke; and Jo-Anne was warm and thoughtful in her answers. Hyde just sounded like a prick in a good suit.
I may have been biased.
I was kind of zoning out for most of the interview, the late nights and five hour time difference getting to me, when one question to Miles had me pinning my ears back and listening intently.
“Bearing in mind Nuriel is an angel, is there any part of the character that you identified with?”
Miles looked uncharacteristically serious as he answered.
“Yeah, I really liked his capacity to learn.” He shook his head slightly. “I don’t mean because he was smart and had been God’s go-to guy,” a ripple of laughter drifted around the room, “the opposite in fact. He thought he knew everything, but when he fell to Earth, when he fell in love, nothing made sense any more – it’s then he’s at his most honest. Love doesn’t make sense – until it does. When he finally realizes that he knows nothing, he can finally start to learn.” He paused again. “Kind of levels the playing field for us mortals.”
Again, the massed reporters chuckled. The questioner gave Miles a shrewd look.
“Is that your experience of love, that nothing makes sense?”
There was a collective intake of breath, and Rhonda looked irritated. I wondered if she was going to pull the plug.
Miles just smiled.
“I think that’s every guy’s experience of love,” he said, looking toward me, a small smile threatening to break out. “It doesn’t make sense, until it does.”
I didn’t think it was possible to love him any more than I already did. Turned out I was wrong.
My biggest mistake of the afternoon was to go to the bathroom.
Now, generally speaking, going to the bathroom is usually viewed as a good thing – you know, saves you from having an embarrassing incident in public. In this case, it meant having an embarrassing incident in private.
I’d just availed myself of the facilities and was washing my hands, when Lilia slunk through the door.
I couldn’t help wondering if she made a habit of skulking in bathrooms just waiting to piss me off. Maybe it was one of her many talents – that and being able to blow a guy while being photographed for People magazine.
“I know why you’re here,” she said. “I know why you’re with Miles.”
“Is it a multiple choice answer, or were you hoping your hot air would help with global cooling?”
“You’re just with him now because he’s famous – and he’s got money.”
The accusation stung, but I was determined not to let her see that.
“Coffee, chocolate, men … Some things are just better rich. I would have thought you’d appreciate that, Lilia.”
“You’re just a mercy fuck,” she continued, scathingly. “It’s obvious Miles feels sorry for you.”
“Yeah? Well, it’s obvious he loathes your bony ass. I guess that makes us even.”
“Not even nearly!” she hissed, losing her composure. “How long was it going on – you and him?”
I was filled with contempt. “If you really think Miles is capable of cheating, you don’t know him at all. He loathes cheats, and he’s not capable of being one. You’re on your own with that.”
She changed tack faster than a politician at an Elton John concert.
“Well, if you really cared about your friend, you’d realize how bad it’ll look if word gets out that he’s dating a Wisconsin skinny.”
“A what?”
“An o-beast! A fugly, overweight bitch.”
“Well, at least your vocabulary is improving. And, frankly, however you describe me, people will still think it’s an improvement over a cokehead prima donna with knobbly knees, sagging tits and an arse you could sharpen your pencil on.”
I fixed her with my thousand-yard stare that I learned in the Marines, (not really), and poked a finger at her bony chest.
“Girls like you make me sick, Lilia. You always have to blame everyone else when something goes wrong. I mean, you’re rich, famous, and even I can see that you’re a good actress – hell, you had Miles fooled when he thought you really cared for him – but that part of your life is over. So thank your lucky stars that you still have a career and leave him the fuck alone.”
“Or what?”
“I’ll find you.”
“Are you threatening me?”
?
??You’re not totally stupid then.”
And if only I could have swept out of there with my head held high. Well, actually, that’s exactly what I did – and walked straight into the door.
My nose exploded, and the pain was so bad, I think I saw stars. I know that had already happened a few times due to Miles’ mega orgasmathons, but as this was from being smacked in the face, believe me when I say it’s different.
“Ow! Fug! Crab! Ship!”
Which translates as, “Ow! Fuck! Crap! Shit!” because, come on, I had blood pouring out of my nose.
Lilia just laughed at me and walked away, leaving me in tears with a pool of blood gathering on the floor.
“Classy… not,” she called over her shoulder.
Half blinded with pain, I staggered toward the sink and watched as blood dripped down. Worse still, both my eyes were swelling up into slits. I filled the sink with cold water, grabbed a handful of paper towels and wadded them up to make a cold compress.
Then my phone rang. Miles! Thank God! But as I picked it up, I dropped it into the water. It bleeped unhappily once, then died.
I collapsed into a heap on the floor and cried my eyes out.
Which was how Bette found me, a sweet old lady who was visiting from Oklahoma City. She probably thought I was a druggie who’d been mugged, because she backed out of there so fast, I was afraid she’d meet herself coming back. But when she returned a few minutes later, she’d brought the hotel security with her.
“Do we have a problem here, ma’am?”
“Ob caws theb’s a fuggin’ publum! I’b brogen by fuggin’ dose!”
“Do you speak English, ma’am? Do you need a doctor? Doc-tor? Doc-tor? Med-ic? Hos-pit-al?”
“I wan’ Biles!”
“I think she said she’s got piles,” Bette added, helpfully.
“Yeah, probably from sitting on the marble floor,” said the security guard. “That sure won’t help. We’d better get you up, ma’am!”
“Doh! I wan’ Biles! Biles Steebun! The ackdor!”
“She’s saying something about the backdoor. Do you think that’s how she got in?”
“Probably,” said the security guard. “We get a lot of crack whores shooting up in the alley. Pardon my French, ma’am.”
“Oh by Gud!”
“What was that, dear?”
“Let me handle this, ma’am,” said the security guard. “She could be dangerous.”
“She doesn’t look dangerous,” said Bette.
“Appearances can be deceptive,” intoned the dickwad.
“No need to be a smart-ass,” snapped Bette, which made the dickwad blink. She pointed at my shoulder bag. “Why don’t you do your job and see if she’s got ID?”
“Huh, probably stolen,” muttered dickwad.
“Photo ID will prove you right then, won’t it?” she stated. “I’m Bette by the way, dear. Visiting from Oklahoma City. It’s so exciting to walk right into a crime scene. It’s just like on NCIS – even down to the blood. I wonder what the spatter pattern will tell us?”
“I gob hid id the dose.” I held out my hand. “By dame ib Clem.”
“Did you say your name is Clem, dear?”
Dickwad pulled out my passport. “According to this her name is Clare Milton from England.”
“How exciting,” said Bette. “Do you know the Queen?”
It was only when Miles sent Rhonda to look for me that I was found.
He nearly freaked out when he saw me covered in blood, sitting in the dickwad’s office, with two NYPD specials in attendance.
“Jesus Christ, Clare! What the hell happened to you, baby?”
“Had an argubent wib a door,” I mumbled.
“What? You did all that by walking into a door?”
“Yeb.”
“Can you vouch for this person, sir?” said one of the cops.
Miles looked annoyed. “Of course I can! She’s my girlfriend!”
They all did the usual double take. They looked at him… they looked at me… they looked at him. It was like watching a tennis match in slow motion. And every single one of them was thinking the same thing: what the hell is he doing with her?
Although they might also have been thinking about recommending him a good optician.
“Yeah!” said Miles, angrily. “And she’s a guest in this hotel and she needs a fucking doctor, not the police!”
It’s amazing what you can get when you’re famous.
We were whisked off by limo to some private clinic, all paid for by the hotel, who were desperate for me not to sue, or for Miles to give them a bad review – which, financially, probably amounted to the same thing. They had a reputation to uphold for cool, hip people to stay there, and although that didn’t apply to the girl who was dimmer than an eclipse at night who walked into doors, Miles was definitely someone they wanted to come back again.
It turned out that my nose wasn’t broken, thank God, but I did have two amazing black eyes.
Miles bought me a pair of ridiculously expensive Gucci sunglasses to cover them, but I still looked like a giant panda after a bad night out.
He cancelled everything else he was supposed to do that day, and we hung out in our room eating pizza, drinking beer, and watching TV.
Clips from the junket were shown later that evening. Jo-Anne was being interviewed on ‘Letterman’, and they were running it as a trailer.
I had to admit, there was something sexy about seeing my boyfriend on TV, especially as it wasn’t Crimewatch.
It was just my friggin’ luck. I was in a fantastic hotel room, overlooking the city that never sleeps, with a bona fide film star sex god, and my libido had taken a one-way ticket to a nunnery.
Worse still, I was going back to London the next day, and we didn’t know when we’d be able to see each other again.
Miles held my hand, and fed me pieces of pizza, which made him officially perfect in my book.
And then we sat back to enjoy Jo-Anne’s interview.
But just before they brought her on, a picture of Miles was shown on the screen.
“Hollywood insiders are trying to confirm a sighting of ‘Dazzled’ star Miles Stephens’ new girlfriend. Ever since costar Lilia Purcell was photographed in a compromising position with an unknown male and female, as well as – it is alleged – Golden Globe winner Charlie Sheehan, relations have been strained between the two stars. Today it seems the angelic actor has found love again in an unlikely place.”
And then they showed a photograph of me and him when we arrived at the hotel the day before – and Miles had his arm around me and was whispering something in my ear.
I remembered exactly what he’d said, because it had made me laugh.
“One day I’m going to buy you your own chocolate fountain – and then I’m going to dip my dick in it and see how much you really like chocolate.”
Yeah, that had made me laugh. But I wasn’t laughing now. Our secret was out.
Someone had talked.
Truly, Madly, Deeply
Miles
The press coverage was wholly negative. I was described as a cheating bastard who’d led Lilia astray then pushed her off the deep end. Clare was a manipulative, social-climbing homewrecker.
Lilia was looking pretty damn squeaky clean. It was amazing how quickly people ‘forgot’ those damn photographs, even though Joe Blow was in rehab and being divorced by his wife. Rumors, half-truths and blackwhite newspeak were enough. That’s what it felt like. I didn’t give a shit what they said about me, and I was starting to think that pretty much anything could be forgiven and forgotten with the right spin. It was a depressing thought.
And it was everything Rhonda had warned us could happen. I made a mental note to listen very carefully next time she told me something – the woman was a goddamn soothsayer.
Apart from the sheer fabrication of the whole thing, I think what hurt the most were the vicious attacks on Clare personally, based on one, blurry photograph:
too fat, too ugly, what did I see in her, yadda, yadda, yadda. It made me want to come out of our corner fighting. Of course, Rhonda advised against that. Strongly.
“Miles, honey, you’ve just got to suck it up,” she said.
“But how can they get away with this? It’s all such bullshit!”
“Yep, got the memo on that. But I recommend that you do what you did last time – keep your head down and your mouth shut. And the same goes for you, Clare.”
“Will this affect his career?” Clare asked, carefully.
“I don’t give a fuck about that!” I shouted, unable to control my voice.
“Well, you should care,” Clare replied, forcefully, “because if you give up now, what’s been the point of it all? And Lilia wins.” She sighed and stared at her fingers. “I can’t even blame her.”
“What the…?”
“We don’t know for sure that she was the one who said anything – it could have been the hotel security, or people from the clinic. Hell, it could have been dear, sweet Bette from Oklahoma City for all we know. Lilia is just working to save her own skin.”
“Well, I never thought I’d say this,” said Rhonda, dryly, “but Clare’s right. Say nothing. Do nothing.”
“Fuck!” I couldn’t help snarling the word. “I’m surprised they haven’t said I’ve been beating her up as well!”
Rhonda tsked loudly. “Yes, well, you’re not going to like what I say next – either of you – but you’ve got to send Clare home, to avoid exactly that scenario. So far, the Press only have a grainy photograph of Clare, but if they see her bruised like this, they’ll have a field day.” She looked firmly at me. “And that will finish you.”
“Bloody hell,” breathed Clare. “She’s right. I’ve got to leave as soon as possible.”
“No, baby,” I pleaded with her, but her jaw tightened and she got that really stubborn look on her face.
“I’m going, Miles. I was going to head back tomorrow anyway. I’ll just change the flight for this evening – or sooner, if I can.”
I felt beaten. I didn’t know who the winner was – Lilia or the gossip sites. It certainly wasn’t me – or Clare.
“Look, it’s only five months until I graduate,” she said. “We’ll be fine. We’ll email and write… okay, well I’ll email and write, you can Skype me.”