Книга - One Fine Day

One Fine Day
Teresa F. Morgan


Just a boy standing in front of a girl…Actor Steve Mason has it all … gorgeous looks, the perfect starlet girlfriend hanging on his arm and his name on every Hollywood producer’s lips. That is, until it turns out the ‘perfect girl’ is actually a perfect PR stunt! Dumped and with his name plastered across every tabloid headline, Steve decides to head home to England, questioning if he’ll ever find a woman who genuinely loves him for who he is, and not just his place on the Sexiest Man Alive list.It’s been fifteen long years since Ruby last saw her big brother – but the new LA version of Steve complete with designer wardrobe, California tan and an American accent is too much to bear – Ruby hardly recognises him and decides it’s time to get her brother back!With Ruby’s help, Steve goes undercover as he plays the part of a regular guy who leads a regular life. And then one perfectly fine, ordinary day he meets lovely, funny, down-to-earth Lydia. But when Hollywood comes calling, will Steve be able to leave both Lydia and his little sister behind?









One Fine Day


TERESA F. MORGAN






A division of HarperCollinsPublishers

www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)


HarperImpulse an imprint of

HarperCollinsPublishers

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www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)

First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2015

Copyright © Teresa F. Morgan 2015

Cover images © Shutterstock.com

Cover layout design © HarperColl‌insPublishers Ltd 2015

Cover design by HarperColl‌insPublishers Ltd

Teresa F. Morgan asserts the moral right

to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is

available from the British Library

This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are

the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to

actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is

entirely coincidental.

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and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

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written permission of HarperCollins.

Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.

Ebook Edition © December 2014 ISBN: 9780007550555

Version 2014-12-17


One Fine Day is dedicated to my mum – who needs another book to read.

I would like to say a big thank you to Liz Wood, June Bastable and Jacquie Franks for their tremendous writery-support.

And to all my friends and readers who enjoyed my first book, Plus One is a Lucky Number, and have given me encouragement and praise; I really hope you like this one even more.


Contents

Cover (#u28a19690-58d2-5d7e-90b9-b59323b36473)

Title Page (#u49c5d275-1cc3-58e4-8160-8442dc07bd5c)

Copyright (#u1108978e-3aa8-53cc-9c71-19a5288a223a)

Dedication (#uf9e3d376-2693-5d7a-b096-6bf7cd59b10e)

Prologue (#ue67244ad-b770-52c6-a839-2326dee7b3cc)

Chapter 1 (#u42de7c9b-a0b0-57a3-b389-5214e5fbe48a)

Chapter 2 (#u5b69f488-3d8f-5968-9aa2-2db068469f07)

Chapter 3 (#u97e34c41-4f5f-5336-8691-2554599b3525)

Chapter 4 (#u89b77993-db5c-5ca9-a5d3-fb120956597e)

Chapter 5 (#u63f697b7-53b6-5be2-97be-4dfa29d82913)

Chapter 6 (#uea7417ce-b52d-558b-a4d0-f8c534b86367)



Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 29 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 30 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 31 (#litres_trial_promo)

Also by Teresa F. Morgan… (#litres_trial_promo)



Teresa F. Morgan (#litres_trial_promo)



About HarperImpulse (#litres_trial_promo)



About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)




Prologue (#ue7247201-776d-595b-9703-19c513a70a76)


August

Steve Mason grinned and waved, stepping out of the air-conditioned limousine, the evening summer heat engulfing him. Then he gallantly held out his hand to help Erica Kealey out of the car with grace. She emerged looking stunning, wearing a sparkly, silver sequined evening gown which accentuated her slim figure – too slim, Steve had sometimes worried – and the press went berserk; snapping cameras and shouting questions. Even in her four-inch heel Jimmy Choos she was still slightly shorter than him. They walked the red carpet laid out in front of the five star Hollywood hotel, and he kept one hand on the small of Erica’s back, protective and loving. They briefly posed for photographs, but Erica felt tense in his embrace. They faced a barrage of paparazzi questions.

“Have you set a date?”

“When will the engagement be announced?”

“Have you thought about a location for the wedding?”

They didn’t stop to answer tonight; they were questions Steve couldn’t even answer, yet. He kept on smiling and walking with Erica who was in a rush. She’d hardly said a word to him in the limo, and now in front of the press her smile appeared strained. Only he could see it though, she was a brilliant actress. But Steve knew.

A slight niggle in his subconscious told him Erica was behaving oddly. She appeared ever gracious, knowing the paparazzi were eager to snap celebrity couples, but something was bothering her. Rumours could spread fast if the paparazzi detected any friction. He checked his tuxedo pocket; the ring box was safe. He wanted to quash any rumours. He wanted the world to know the love he felt for this woman.

Entering the hotel, he relaxed, the cooler air refreshing him, and they followed the throng towards the ballroom. The glitzy, Hollywood birthday party – a black-tie affair – was for their director in Perfection, JimmyPetersen. The big man had big movies behind him and practically every A-Lister in Hollywood was attending. Steve was almost used to walking among them, but still had to pinch himself occasionally – he’d earned the right to be with the stars. Erica fitted with this crowd naturally as her father, Robert Kealey was a well-known actor and director so she’d been born into stardom,

As they entered the busy ballroom, Steve grabbed two champagne flutes from the nearest waiter. He turned to find Erica had wandered off, and he weaved through the guests, nodding and saying hello to familiar faces as he caught up with her.

“Erica, do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” Steve said, frowning as he handed her a glass. Her bad mood was rubbing off on him and he hated the distant feeling between them. Erica smiled weakly, looking troubled, staring into her champagne flute. Steve stroked her arm tenderly with the back of his finger. “Are you all right?”

“I have something on my mind.” She shrugged and sipped her drink. “That’s all.”

“You look like you need cheering up,” he said more happily, feeling excited suddenly. “I didn’t want to mention it in the limo, I wanted to surprise you.” With his right hand, he fished out the ring box from his pocket, and flicked it open to show her the large solitaire diamond set in platinum. “I picked up the ring. Thought we’d make it official. We could do it tonight—”

“No!” Erica hissed, shielding the box from view of others. “Put it away.”

Steve frowned, quickly snapping the lid shut and pocketing the box, all of his enthusiasm draining. “I thought with the press outside, we could use it to our advantage.”

She mumbled something but Steve didn’t quite hear. Or did he? His stomach churned and his mouth became dry. He swallowed some champagne, but a lump had already formed in his throat. “What did you say?” She couldn’t look him in the eye. “Erica, is everything okay?”

She took a deep breath, and spoke fast, “I’m sorry, Steve. But I can’t marry you. It’s over.” She dumped the half-full champagne flute on a table and headed for the exit. Steve stood mouth open, all the air whooshed out of his lungs as his world imploding. What had just happened? He glanced around; guests stared at him, whispering, pointing. Then mentally shaking himself back to reality – how long had he stood there, dumbfounded? – he hurried after Erica.

Her elegant shoes clicked along the polished walnut floor in the corridor, the party in full swing behind them.

“Wait, Erica!” Steve said, discarding his empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter. “Can’t we even talk about this?” He grabbed her arm to stop her, turning him to face her. “We can fix this. I love you.” He reached to stroke her face.

“I don’t love you!” she snapped, pushing his hand away. Steve froze, shocked at her words. Her eyes glistened and her lips trembled before she spoke more calmly, “I’m sorry, Steve, it’s not what I want. I’ll get my PA to come pick up my belongings from yours tomorrow.” She’d never properly moved in, they’d each kept their own homes. She owned a property in Beverly Hills, and tomorrow, her assistant would remove all traces of Erica’s existence from his life out of his rented luxury apartment. He remained silent, unable to think straight. What words could he say to make this better? This couldn’t be happening. An hour ago he’d been blissfully happy, now his life had been shattered like broken glass. Thousands of tiny shards inside his chest.

She started walking again.

“What do you want?” he said, pacing beside her. “I thought I was everything to you. That’s what you told me.”

“That was then. Things have changed.”

“Tell me what I have to do to convince you, and I’ll do it, Erica.” Steve combed a hand through his hair, hating that he sounded desperate, but he was. “I love you. Only you.” Everything about her was beautiful. Her auburn hair fell onto her shoulders, framing her perfectly made-up face. Erica stopped and frowned. They were in a quiet corridor, with a door leading out to the back of the hotel. A doorman waited outside as if on guard.

Erica looked around, then at Steve, hesitant. “These past few months have been hard,” she said, lowering her voice. “You’ve been filming Nothing Happened. I’ve been half way across the world filming too. We’ve drifted apart, Steve.”

“We can make this work, I know we can,” Steve said, reaching to touch her hand, but she shifted her weight so he couldn’t.

“Steve, our schedules won’t gel.” Shaking her head, she pulled out her phone from her purse and made a quick call. “Yes, I’m round the back.” She hung up, but remained clutching her phone as she focussed on Steve again – he hadn’t taken his eyes off her. “One of us would have to sacrifice our work. I’m not prepared to do that, and you’re not either.”

“How do you know? I’d give it up for you.”

“I don’t want you to give it up for me. You’re on the verge of being the hottest new star in Hollywood. You should be happy.”

“I am but I want to be happier – with you.” He couldn’t believe he’d never hold this woman again, never kiss or make love to her. The thought made him miserable. He couldn’t imagine life without Erica Kealey. How did he make her see they were perfect together?

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I never meant to hurt you.” Then, hesitantly, she gently kissed him on the cheek. The doorman pulled open the door, and Erica confidently sashayed out the back of the hotel to her awaiting limo. There were a few opportunist photographers, held back by some security. Like strobe lighting effects, camera flashes followed her. Steve watched her elegantly step into the limo, disappearing into its blackness. Tomorrow the whole world would know Erica Kealey had dumped Hollywood heart-throb Steve Mason.

As the limo drove off, the pressure building in Steve’s chest rose to his throat and his eyes stung. The last time he’d cried was at his mother’s funeral, and even then, he’d hidden his grief from prying eyes. In the privacy of his apartment, he could allow his emotions to show, but not here. He needed to return to the party.

How was he supposed to appear happy, when the woman he had planned to spend the rest of his life with had just walked out of it?




Chapter 1 (#ue7247201-776d-595b-9703-19c513a70a76)


Sunday 6th October

Steve stretched and yawned. He was only half way through his eleven-hour flight to London. At least, travelling first class, he could sleep for some of it, but he never truly allowed himself to fall into a deep sleep. He had to keep his wits about him, especially as he’d left his bodyguards behind. The stewardess had come along and put a blanket over him and constantly checked he was comfortable.

Of course she would do, he was Steve Mason, after all.

Like all stewardesses, she wore perfect make-up and precision styled hair. She looked pretty, but he did wonder what she’d look like with the cosmetics removed. Yet it made the flight pleasant. He wasn’t going to complain when a pretty girl gave him attention. She had to be around her mid-twenties. Some of the flight attendants were older, but this particular stewardess was his, it seemed. All the other travellers could whistle; she only had eyes for him.

When he couldn’t snooze he put his nose in a book or watched the in-flight movies. His latest movie, Perfection was available but he skipped that one. How vain would it look to be watching your own movie?

However, a glimpse of Erica would have been nice.

He couldn’t believe how much he still missed her.

“Are you ready for some breakfast, Mr Mason?” the stewardess said, in her beautifully British accent, which was from somewhere around the London area.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, sounding very American. He adjusted his chair with the ever-helpful stewardess assisting. He checked her name badge. “Thank you, Suzie,” he said, giving her his best smile. He had been fortunately blessed with straight teeth.

“So is this trip for business or pleasure?” Suzie placed a breakfast tray in front of him. She was flirting, he knew that, the way she looked at him out the corner of her eye, the smile in her voice. He was used to women flirting with him, he preferred it to them reacting oddly, acting either incredibly shy, or throwing themselves at him, claiming they loved him and wanted to have his babies.

At least she hadn’t done that yet.

He used to get plenty of attention from the ladies before he was famous – now it was a given. He was up there with Robert Pattinson, having women’s underwear thrown at him.

“I’m going to see my sister.”

“You have a sister in London?”

“Not quite in London, no.” Maybe it was best not to give Ruby’s location away, he didn’t need the press chasing after him. The idea was to lay low for a bit. “But not far.”

“Well, I hope you brought your winter jacket, we’re having a cold October.”

“Yeah, I’ve packed my sweaters.” He winked, and she coyly smiled.

Suzie attended to another passenger – who had been huffing loudly at all the attention Steve had been getting – then returned with a coffee pot. Steve had started eating his breakfast, welcoming the food. For some reason, although he found others complained a lot about it – especially the celebrities – he really liked in-flight food. But then he’d been brought up never to be fussy – and to clear his plate.

“Coffee, sir?”

“Please, need something to wake me up.”

“You know, I’m sorry you and Erica Kealey didn’t work out. I thought you made a beautiful couple,” Suzie said, pouring him a cup of coffee. Steve’s expression must have shown surprise. He closed his mouth and blinked. “Oh, I am sorry.” Even with her heavy make-up Suzie couldn’t hide her blushing – he watched her neck flush pink.

He laughed and waved it off. “Hey, I wasn’t expecting someone to comment, that’s all. The whole affair wasn’t too pretty.”

And he wasn’t quite over Erica. He still missed her – loving her, and being loved back. He’d hoped she’d be the one. She’d left a huge void in his life.

“I’m sure you won’t be on your own for long.” Suzie said, not quite meeting his gaze.

His stewardess was persistent, he’d give her that. But he didn’t mind, she was actually talking to him like he was a human being and not a god. She was prying, but then, they were all nosy when it came to fame and fortune. Suzie, albeit flirty and unprofessional, was still pleasant to talk to.

“No,” he said, laughing it off. “If I was, wouldn’t you know? The press know our secrets before we do.” He raised his eyebrows knowingly as he dabbed his mouth with a napkin.

“Oh, you celebrities have a way of hiding things, you never know what to believe in the press. I don’t read the papers myself.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t. Most of it isn’t true.”

“Or it’s blown out of proportion,” she said.

“Yes, that’s true.” He sighed. “Basically, I need a vacation. Preferably without the press hounding me.”

He never thought he’d say this but he needed time out of LA. He needed time away from Hollywood and the limelight. His popularity had erupted suddenly and he still hadn’t adjusted. Hopefully, in the UK he might fade into the background a little, if he kept a low profile. Even his agent had suggested him taking a couple of weeks off, seeing the fallout from Erica’s betrayal.

He’d just finished filming his next movie, Nothing Happened, which was due out next summer, plus all the other stuff that went with a movie release. He’d still had to do the rounds for Perfection; TV chat shows, magazine interviews, radio shows. His schedule had been hectic over the last few months, and he wanted to remove himself from it, slow things down.

Steve had locked up his Hollywood apartment, handed the keys to his personal assistant Marie, and told her he was taking a vacation. While he sneaked out of LA, his PA arranged for a guy who’d doubled for him on Perfection to spend a couple of weeks sunbathing in the Caribbean at an exclusive resort with a private beach, in the hope of fooling the tabloids. Steve had some time before he started shooting his next movie, so this was a good time to get away and catch up with Ruby.

He’d last seen her at their mother’s funeral, and that had been fleeting. Although the paparazzi wouldn’t gatecrash the wake, he’d had to return to LA, back to filming, so he hadn’t stayed as long as he’d have liked. Ruby felt like a stranger to him.

For a moment sadness and regret filled him. His mother. He’d hardly seen her in the last fifteen years, intent on making it big in Hollywood, plus flights home weren’t cheap when he hadn’t been making money. And then it had been too late, cancer took her in her prime.

He clenched his fists, reliving his anger. He should have been told sooner. He would have come home.

Thankfully, Suzie left him to eat his breakfast in peace, remembering that there were other first class passengers to attend to – especially the huffy old dear a row behind him – letting him dwell. The flight wasn’t busy – there weren’t many people flying in first class. He hadn’t made a fuss, wanting to retain a low profile, and it had worked. The cabin crew had been very surprised when the actual Steve Mason had boarded their plane.

After the breakfast trays had been cleared away, Steve must have dozed off, because he was gently woken by Suzie checking his seatbelt was fastened, and telling him they were approaching Heathrow.

About to disembark, Steve slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and felt a piece of paper in there. He didn’t remember having anything in his pocket. He took it out and read it: a note from Suzie, apologising for being unprofessional but providing him with her number, ‘in case he was staying anywhere near Richmond and needed company.’

He turned, winked, which made her blush and giggle, then walked off the plane.

Nothing personal, but he wouldn’t be calling Suzie, although he couldn’t just throw away her number, so he left the note in his pocket for now. He’d discard it later, discreetly. However much he would like to find love again, he knew Suzie wouldn’t be the one. She was in love – well, lust – with the star, the glamour, the money; not the real Steve Mason.

In pursuit of his luggage which he’d put through fast track, Steve tried Ruby’s work number. She was manager at a small hotel in the posh end of Bristol, as she’d put it.

“Good afternoon, Durdham Lodge, you’re speaking to Lydia. How can I help you?”

“Oh, hi, could you put me through to Ruby Fisher, please?”

“I’ll try her number for you. Who’s calling please?”

“I’d rather not say, I want it to be a surprise.” Steve wondered if he should have waited until he was out of the airport, the noise and bustling of people was making it hard to concentrate. He held his hand over his other ear. He’d wanted to call before boarding his plane, but with the time difference and everything, the need to just get out of LA, (he was the prime example that men couldn’t multi-task) – it had been the middle of the night in England – he had decided to leave it until landing.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I do need a name to transfer you. It’s company policy. What is the call regarding?” What did Ruby do that ensured her calls needed to be vetted? Even his own PA, Marie wasn’t this tough on private callers.

“I wanted to surprise her. Lydia, it is Lydia, yes?”

“Yes.” She had a soft voice. She sounded young, and he imagined her to be pretty…as pretty as Suzie, but telephone voices could be deceiving. Probably about fifty, married and looked like a dragon, knowing Steve’s luck. He’d have to ask Ruby about Lydia.

“My name’s Steve, and I’m family. We’ve not seen each other in a while; I’d like to surprise her, even if it is on the phone,” Steve said, trying to convey his smile down the line. “Can you trust me on this one? I’ll owe you big time.” A loud tannoy sounded over the arrivals lounge.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear you. There’s a lot of noise in the background,” Lydia said.

“Sorry, I’m at the airport. I’ve just landed.”

“Oh, okay.” Steve had to hand it to Lydia, he understood why she was doing her job properly. He’d often relied on a good receptionist’s vigilance to keep the prying paparazzi from finding out he was staying in a hotel. “So you’re definitely not trying to sell something?” She giggled. It was infectious. If only she knew who she was really speaking to, would she be so at ease?

Steve chuckled. “I promise, hand on my heart, I’m not trying to sell her anything.”

“Okay, I’ll try her line for you.” There was silence, then Lydia came back on the line. “I’m sorry, sir, she’s not in her office at the moment. Would you like to leave a message?”

“No, no, I’ll try again later.” Steve grabbed his case as it finally passed him.

“She’ll be leaving around six tonight. Try her at home after then, maybe?”

“Yes, I’ll do that, thanks for your help. Oh and please don’t mention that I called. Like I said, I want to surprise her.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Lydia said, then, more hesitantly, “Will we get to meet you?”

“Um, I’m not sure yet. That’ll be up to Ruby. But if we do, I owe you a drink. Thanks for your help, Lydia. It’s been nice talking to you.” Even though disappointment lingered in his thoughts, his spirits had been lifted with his brief conversation with Lydia. She hadn’t known who he was, so had reacted to him normally. If only life could be that simple, maybe he could find a girlfriend.

Steve slipped his phone into his inside pocket and headed through passports and customs. When planning his journey, he’d thought about catching a domestic flight to Bristol, but instead decided he’d hire a car. Driving on the motorway was a better way to stay low and get lost in a crowd.

Steve had ensured he’d drunk enough coffee to keep him awake for the two hour car journey. He needn’t have worried. Concentrating on staying left whilst fighting his way onto the M4 was enough to keep him fully alert. He didn’t remember the British as maniac drivers. Wasn’t the speed limit seventy?

How come they were all doing ninety?

He turned the radio on, tuned into Radio One, and although he no longer recognised the DJs, turned up the volume. It wouldn’t be long, and he’d be home.

***

Alone in his hotel suite Steve took his phone out of his pocket, and checked for messages. None.

Why did he keep thinking he’d see something from Erica? For Christ’s sake, he needed to get a grip. Erica didn’t want him back, she’d moved on. So should he.

Maybe this proved his skin wasn’t thick enough, he wasn’t used to being a celebrity yet. His fame still hadn’t sunk in. Which was ridiculous; he’d had three big movies now – okay, so he’d only been the male lead in one of them, Perfection, which had increased his profile. It had taken a while to get there, some bad films, some bit parts, his career starting with television shows and adverts initially, earning him a keep, but this was it. He’d just finished filming another lead role, and he had another film lined up on the horizon. His agent promised him filmmakers would be knocking on his door wanting Steve Mason, the new Hollywood hunk, in their movies. He’d never be out of work.

Perfection had been a mixture of action and romance, a box office smash putting him up there with the best of them. Instead of chasing for parts, film makers were chasing him. He’d finally done it after a damned hard slog.

His fame would only grow further now. At the moment, he still had an element of freedom; not everybody knew the face of Steve Mason like they knew Tom Cruise. His name was only starting to spread around Hollywood, and that’s why it was important to see Ruby now. His next movie, Nothing Happened was due out next year and after that, everyone would know Steve Mason’s face.

A quick glance at his watch told him it was half past six. His sister should be home from work. He dialled, and waited, praying it wouldn’t go to her answer phone.

“Hello?” The voice sounded dubious. He was lost for words, momentarily, and she cut in, “If this is one of those bloody sales calls, will you just piss off!”

“No, it’s not a bloody sales call.” Laughter laced his words.

“Who’s that?”

“Ruby, it’s me.”

“Who’s me?” she said impatiently.

“Steve.”

“Steve…Where are you?”

“The Hilton in Bristol.”

“No you’re not. Where are you really?” she said dryly.

He laughed. “I am. I swear, The Hilton, Bristol.”

“Which one?” She still didn’t believe him, her tone dubious.

“The one just off the M5.” He sighed, losing his patience.

“Bloody hell! I’ll be right over. I assume you’d prefer to be tucked away in your room?”

“Yeah, for now. We’ll have dinner here, I’ve got a suite.”

“Oh, um, what name should I ask for?”

“You won’t need a name, just come up.” He gave her the room number and ended the call, then started unpacking his things. Not that he’d be able to stay here long. Someone would work out who he really was and before he knew it, the paps would arrive.

***

“Where’s my British brother gone? What’s with the accent?”

Ruby had turned up half an hour later and hugged him. She’d changed so much since the last time he’d seen her. Lost some weight, and cut off all of her hair. It suited her though; she looked like a younger version of their mother with her tomboy hairstyle.

“Well, you tend to pick it up…and I needed to sound less British to get better parts. I have been living in LA fifteen years.”

“Don’t I know it, and you’re brown as a berry.” She gently prodded him. “Is it fake tan?”

“No.”

“Oh, well, you’ll soon lose that here. It’s turned so cold. So, what brings you home?”

“You.”

A stab of guilt hit him, realising his agent had encouraged him to visit Ruby. It hadn’t come from Steve; hadn’t entered his thoughts initially, as he was still carrying a slight niggle of resentment about his mother’s death. Damn, he was really glad to be here.

“Me?” Ruby said with disbelief.

“Let’s order some food and then we can talk,” Steve said, finding the room service menu. This was going to be tough. He hardly knew her now, but he wanted to get some time back with her. Catch up, talk about things. Mum, even Erica. Could he tell Ruby about Erica?

The room service arrived and Ruby and Steve sat around the small table. Ruby insisted she didn’t want wine, she’d drive home as she needed her car for work the next morning.

“So,” Ruby put her fork down and rested her elbow on the table, “when does your next film start?”

“Starts shooting in three months. Marie will let me know when they send the revised script through.”

“Marie?”

“She’s my personal assistant.”

“Is she pretty?”

“She’s forty-nine and married with two teenage kids.” He looked at her dead pan.

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Okay, so for someone who’s worth a million dollars, you’re looking pretty miserable. What’s up with you?”

“You read the papers, right?”

“Not really – full of tripe most of the time. Quick glimpse at OK or Hello when I’m in the hairdressers, but that’s about it. Oh, and I might catch the front pages of the newspapers before they head up to the rooms. But I don’t like reading stuff about you.” She shrugged.

“I was seeing Erica Kealey. We met filming Perfection.” During the making of the movie a passion had been ignited within them – it hadn’t helped they’d had a lot of love scenes. On and off the set, they couldn’t get enough of one another. Steve had believed Erica was his soul mate.

“The Erica Kealey? Wow! I did see you were going to marry your leading lady and was wondering where my wedding invite was, admittedly.” Ruby scowled.

“Yeah, well, we broke up.” Over a year later, when they’d made wedding plans for next spring – albeit loose ones, then she’d ended it all. She hadn’t even given him a backwards glance.

“When?”

“About two months ago – and now it appears she has a thing for her current leading man.” After their sudden break up, Erica had drifted to another man’s bed. She had moved on easier than Steve.

“Oh.” Ruby patted his knee. “I’m sorry.”

They finished their meal, then headed over to the couch, Steve pouring himself a large scotch. Ruby insisted on an orange juice.

“So, is that what’s bothering you? Erica Kealey? She’s your reason for turning up on my doorstep – sort of.” She gestured to the four-star hotel suite. “Do you still love her?”

“Yes, and no. I had the Hollywood bug, didn’t I? We’re so rich, so independent, we can leave a relationship at a drop of a hat. See it happening all the time.” Steve looked at his sister, and sighed angrily. Perfection had given him millionaire status, but even before that, his income had been increasing nicely over the past few years. From years of struggling, he’d gone to the other end of the scale. “I had hoped I’d be married when success knocked on my door. How am I going to find someone to settle down with now?”

Ruby frowned. “You want to settle down?”

“Yes, of course. Why is it so hard to believe I don’t want to play the field? I want to find love. Real love – like our mum and dad had.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Maybe I’m being stupid—”

“Ha! I didn’t say that.”

Steve scowled at her interruption. She buttoned her lips then sat rock still. “I want to find a woman who wants to get married and have kids. I want a family, like we grew up in. If I fall for an actress, she’s as busy as me, we have no time for one another, and then there’s the added stress of neither of us really committing. I mean it’s so easy to get out of a relationship in Hollywood rather than actually work at it.” He sipped his scotch, and slouched further on the couch, sighing heavily. “I want a marriage where we don’t need to discuss pre-nups.”

“You’d need to do that whether you married Miss Plain Jane or not. Otherwise they could take you to the cleaners.”

“Exactly! If I say who I really am, how do I know someone’s marrying me for me, and not my money? Not the person they see in the press. I need them to fall in love without all that getting in the way.”

Ruby chewed her lip, as if in deep concentration. Steve watched, depression deepening. Telling Ruby hadn’t lightened the weight on his shoulders as he’d hoped, just darkened his thoughts. He realised that he might not ever find the perfect woman. He was destined for a life of one Hollywood romance after another – and oh, how the press would love the gossip. It would be okay, but he was thirty-five now, and ready to settle down. He didn’t want to grow old and lonely. He wanted to find someone he could share his life with, as his mother and father had done.

Maybe Ruby didn’t remember, but their parents had been so in love. To this day, he remembered the tears his mother shed over their father’s grave.

“I’ve got it.” Ruby nudged him, shaking him out of his reverie. “What you need to do is be normal for a while.”

“Normal?”

“Yeah, be normal – like me.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “You? Normal?”

Ruby scowled and nudged him with her elbow. “You know what I mean. Maybe if you take away your money, and flash looks, you might find someone.”

“But won’t I get recognised?”

“In London maybe, but here in Bristol…You can get a haircut,” she combed her fingers through his Hollywood hair, “lose the designer stubble, maybe we can get you some glasses.” She wiggled her finger at him.

“Like a disguise?” he asked warily.

“Yeah!” Ruby sounded excited, chirping up, almost bouncing off her seat. “Some people are going to say you look like you, but you can deny it. Change your clothes – you can’t wear Armani.”

“Not sure I like that idea.”

“If you want to fit in, and be normal,” she quoted with her fingers, “and want someone to love you for who you are, not what you are, you’re going to need to make some changes. And don’t flash your money around.”

“Hmmm…I’m seeing your point of view here.”

“You’ll need to get a job, because sitting around in a fancy hotel isn’t going to work either.”

“Yeah, I could get a job.” But how? Steve rubbed the stubble on his chin.

Ruby frowned. “Interviews are tough though, everyone will need references.”

“What about where you work, could you get me a job?” He smiled his Hollywood smile, looking her in the eye, knowing the true effect of his blue eyes – it always worked.

“That smile and those eyes don’t work on me. I’m your sister, remember?”

Hmm…He’d forgotten his sister was immune to him trying to get his own way. “But as I’m your brother, you could get me a job?”

Some time ago, he’d received a letter, an update from Ruby. She’d told him about her life and work, how she was happy running a small hotel on the outskirts of Bristol.

Managing meant hiring and firing, right?

She let out a deep breath. “Yes, I could get you a job, I suppose. But it’s only a small hotel; we don’t really need anyone at the moment—”

“I don’t need paying, just get me in so I’m doing something – meeting people, making friends.”

“Sure,” Ruby said, mimicking an American accent with a sly smile.

“Stop doing that!”

“What?” She did it again, drawing out the word in an American accent. A poor American accent, Steve might add.

“I don’t sound like that.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“It’s not funny, Ruby.” He looked at her sternly, giving her the ‘big brother hating being teased by his little sister’ glare.

“I’m sorry, but you sound all American,” she reverted to her Bristol tone, laughing. She nudged him. “So how long can you stay in the UK?”

“Three months – max! I’ve got three months to find the woman of my dreams, then I’m back to Hollywood.”

“Make the most of tonight.” She chinked her glass of orange juice against his tumbler of scotch. “It’s your last night as a Hollywood hunk.”




Chapter 2 (#ue7247201-776d-595b-9703-19c513a70a76)


Steve cupped Erica’s face, his thumb gently rubbing her cheek. Out the corner of his eye, he could see on the horizon the dust rising into the sky. Flores and his men were coming. He shoved the car into drive, and was about to kiss those perfect, ripe lips, when his phone started ringing.

He didn’t have his phone – did he? That wasn’t in the script.

The image of Erica disappeared as he fumbled for his phone on the bedside cabinet.

“Hello,” he said gruffly, his voice not quite woken up.

“Right, I’m coming to get you. I’ve been thinking about this all night. The longer you stay there, the quicker you’ll get found out. And once the press find you, then we can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what?”

“You know! But you can’t stay in the hotel. Someone is bound to blab.”

“Ruby, what time is it?” Steve rubbed his eyes. He was semi-aroused, dreaming of Erica. Luckily, he softened with reality, and his sister’s voice.

“It’s seven a.m. Not that early. I’ve managed to get the day off work, so make the most of it. Get dressed, and get packed, I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

She’d hung up before he could argue. Last night, Ruby had left him full of ideas on how he could become normal, and he’d gone to bed, nicely warmed by the scotch inside him, wondering whether he would actually find the woman of his dreams while here in the UK. He’d told Ruby he could stay for three months – maximum. He’d have to return sometime in January. The Oscars were in February – he’d have to be back for those, and then the filming for his new movie would start after. However, his agent, Karl, still expected him back in LA in two weeks’ time…Steve would worry about that later. He’d make sure Marie cleared his diary.

This meant he had until the end of January to find the perfect woman.

But he didn’t want perfect. ‘Perfect’ he could pick up in Hollywood tomorrow. He wanted someone who didn’t have to look immaculate every time she stepped out of her front door, didn’t need to worry about image – at least no more than the next woman did. Erica had been perfect, and look what had happened there. Every day she’d worried about her dress size and what she ate, following a special diet. Dinner in a restaurant had been hard work at times. No, he wanted to find someone ordinary, normal, who he could settle down with. Someone he could love, and who would love him back.

Steve wanted all the things his mum and dad had had. He wasn’t looking at this with rose tinted glasses either. He remembered their arguments, the tough times, more than Ruby would, but they’d always come out the other side, still in love. Dad coming home with flowers to apologise, Mum baking Dad’s favourite lemon drizzle cake. He had fond memories of his mother standing at the sink doing the washing up, soap suds to her elbows and Dad surprising her from behind, kissing and hugging her.

He jumped out of bed and slipped on his clothes. The scruffier he looked, the better. He’d grab a shower at Ruby’s. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and combing a hand through his hair, he looked in the mirror and decided he’d do. Luckily, he hadn’t unpacked much, so he was ready by the time Ruby knocked on his door.

Steve checked out quickly and as discreetly as possible, and was soon dragging his case behind him, out into the grey British rain, towards Ruby’s waiting car. Somehow, after Ruby had thrown some carrier bags of shopping (new shoes and clothes) into the back seats, his luggage fitted into the small trunk – thank heavens he’d packed light.

With the two of them in the car, the front screen misted up quickly. Ruby switched on the blowers and eventually they blew out warm air. Thanks to the typical British weather, he hadn’t seen the sun once since landing at Heathrow. He squashed the thought of missing the LA warmth quickly. This is what he wanted; to come home. He’d just forgotten how miserable the weather could be, he thought, tousling his hair to remove the rainwater. Used to the leg space in limousines, Steve sat cramped in Ruby’s little car – he could almost touch his ears with his knees.

Okay, note to self; for her next birthday buy Ruby a bigger car.

“So, where am I going to stay, if I can’t stay in a hotel?” Steve said, as he adjusted the car seat for some leg room. Instead, the chair tilted, throwing him back. Cursing under his breath, while Ruby giggled, he up-righted himself and worked out the seat eventually.

“You can stay with me.”

He looked at her, surprised, his eyebrows raised.

“Don’t look at me like that. I could change my mind,” Ruby said, taking her eyes off the road for a second.

“I thought maybe I could stay at your hotel.”

Ruby shook her head. “No, it’s too small, we’ll need the rooms. I’m taking a big risk as it is, and I don’t want the staff questioning it. I’ve got a spare room, so you can crash there. It’ll be the safest place for you.”

“Can I shower there, too? You didn’t exactly give me time.”

“Sure, we’ll drop your stuff off, have some breakfast then head for the Mall at Cribbs Causeway – it’s got everything under one roof, even hairdressers.”

Steve really didn’t like how she kept mentioning hairdressers.

She grinned, stunning Steve by how much she reminded him of their mother. The last time he’d seen Ruby, she’d had mousy long hair. Now, it was cut short with hints of gold and blonde flattering her face and showing off her delicate ears and slender neck. His sister had turned into a woman, a very pretty one – if he looked at her objectively – and he’d never really seen the transformation. His mother had regularly sent updates, photos, but those had stopped when she’d died, and even they were nothing like seeing the real thing.

With eight years between them, he’d always been Ruby’s really big brother. She’d been only twelve when he’d left home to find fame and stardom. A slight, skinny girl. Now, she had womanly curves, confidence, and a cheeky sense of humour – God, he was going to find it hard to meet her boyfriend and not give him the third degree. She didn’t talk to Steve like she was on eggshells either – in fact she was bossing him about. She acted normal around him exactly how a sister should. His celebrity status meant nothing to her. It felt fantastic. He was breathing again, relaxing. He could fart and it wouldn’t make front page news. He realised Ruby was one of the few people in his life he could trust.

She pulled up onto her small driveway and they both got out. He gazed up at the house.

“It’s not much, just a two-bed end terrace, but it does me,” Ruby said, opening the front door.

“Why don’t you stay at Mum’s – your home?” He looked around, frowning. The stairs were immediately in front of them, a small hallway with just enough floor space to dump shoes and her bag. He remembered something mentioned in an email about her moving out of the family home, but at the time he’d been too busy to persuade her not to. He hated the idea of selling it, so he’d employed contractors to oversee the maintenance of the house, through Marie, and the furniture had gone into storage, the house remaining empty.

“Because it was too big for just me to rattle around in, and besides…” Her voice faltered and she ran up the stairs. He followed, lugging his case and holdall.

“Besides, what? I’d pay the bills, Ruby, if it got too much. That’s why I sent you money.”

“It wasn’t that, Steve. There were too many memories of Mum. I found it too upsetting.” She didn’t look him in the eye, but showed him to the room at the front of the house. “This is my spare room, you can sleep here. I cleared it out last night.”

He wouldn’t push her about the house, their family home, for now. Instead he studied his new home, a pale-yellow box room, containing a futon along the side wall – at least it was a double – and on the other, a small desk where Ruby’s computer sat, and a wardrobe. His bathroom back in LA was bigger than this, but he would make do. His heart lightened at the sight of family photographs in different frames hung on the wall in a higgledy-piggledy fashion.

Mum, and occasionally Dad; Ruby, growing up slowly, some with her teenage friends. Steve was in some of them, but he noticed, like his father, he wasn’t in as many as Mum and Ruby. His presence was missing. His father couldn’t be helped, he’d been dead twenty-odd years. As for Steve…

“Right, I’ll let you get settled in. I keep the duvet and pillows in the wardrobe.” Ruby pointed to the pine wardrobe. “I’ll go and put the kettle on.” She thudded back down the stairs, and Steve stowed his case between the wardrobe and desk where it fitted neatly. He opened the wardrobe, and there were pillows and a duvet, and clean sheets on the shelf above the rail. Only a couple of items were hung up – coats mainly. There was enough room for him to hang his clothes. He’d unpack and pull the futon out tonight. He looked out the window, seeing the street below – still raining. It looked a quiet neighbourhood, similar style houses to Ruby’s lining the street. At least Ruby hadn’t moved out of the area, had stayed around Westbury-on-Trim where they’d both grown up.

Checking he had his wallet, phone and his sunglasses inside his leather jacket, he headed back down the stairs to the smell of toast.

“Jam or marmalade?” Ruby called out.

“Marmalade, please.” No pancakes and bacon with maple syrup here.

Ruby’s kitchen was small, so he took a seat at her dining table. The lounge-diner was a good size, for someone living on their own. Behind the three-seater sofa, a wall of books and CDs stood in a large shelving unit. Ruby had always had her nose in a book from an early age, but when he’d left home, she’d just been finding music, much to Mum’s annoyance.

He could fit this whole house in his living room. He hadn’t lived in his apartment quite a year yet, but it was amazing how he’d got used to the space.

He was having a wake-up call to normality.

He remembered how, as his money poured in from the increasing film work, and the fame too, he’d instantly needed a more secure apartment. Being famous had its drawbacks. When your face is plastered over a movie screen, and then glossy magazines, women fall in love with your character, or you. It could get a bit scary in public – as he was starting to find out. He’d thought he was used to female attention – and had a rude awakening. It very soon became apparent he needed a bodyguard, to stop the girls from hurling themselves at him.

Hopefully, now in England, he’d left the crazies behind.

Hopefully.

Ruby plonked a plate of marmalade on toast in front of him, and a cup of black coffee. She came out with the sugar bowl and milk jug. He frowned.

“You don’t have to do anything special for me.”

“Don’t get too excited, it’s instant.” Ruby held her hand up in defence, noticing Steve’s look of distaste. “Hey, you sprung this on me. If you’d called, I’d have got stuff in special, proper coffee, even baked a cake.”

Steve poured some milk into his coffee mug, and took a sip. It was wet and warm at least.

“But I wasn’t sure how you liked it, or what you were used to. You’re not some weird celebrity with silly OCDs now, are you? You don’t have to wash your hands every time you touch something?”

He laughed, putting the mug down. “No, but I always wash my hands after using the bathroom.”

“You never used to! Not as a teenager, anyway.”

“Please don’t tell the press.”

“It’ll cost you.”

Then, there was an awkward silence, as though their joking had run out of fizz. Like they didn’t really know what to say to one another. Strangers.

“God, I’ve missed you,” she said, as if reading Steve’s mind, wanting to remove their silence. Ruby threw her arms around his neck, and he hugged her back, surprised by her sudden outburst.

“I’ve missed you too, Roo.”

She smiled. “Right, enough of the soppiness, we need to get you transformed.” She let go of him. There was a brief change in her expression as she regained composure, and then she finished her own toast.

“Is this really going to work?” He wasn’t liking the word transformed.

“Yes, I’m positive. As long as you stick to the rules, and keep your head down, it should be fine.” Steve frowned as she spoke. “It worked for Clark Kent, it can work for you.”

“This is how I’m going to find my Lois, huh?”

“Absolutely.” Then, she looked him up and down, hand to her chin, contemplatively. “Hmmm…take your watch off.”

“What?”

“It looks expensive. I don’t doubt it is expensive. So take it off. You’re hardly going to blend in wearing a watch that costs more than most people’s wages. This is about changing your image. We’ll buy another one later.”

Steve did as he was told and removed his Jaeger-LeCoultre watch, sighing heavily. Luckily, he’d pulled on some jeans, a T-shirt and his leather jacket, trying to make sure he didn’t stand out.

“And you better lose the designer stubble.”

“Hey, I can’t help the shadow. Something Dad passed on to me.”

“Well, you’re going to have to shave regularly – not once every five days.”

“I could do with a shower,” he hinted.

“Okay, grab a towel from the airing cupboard, I’ll clear this lot up – and make sure you shave,” she said sternly.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Steve quickly finished his toast and took his coffee with him. When he returned thirty minutes later, clean-shaven, Ruby had cleared the breakfast things and had her hands in the sink, washing up. Her tiny kitchen had no space for a dishwasher it seemed. He dumped his dirty mug into the washing up bowl and she cleaned it, putting it on the draining board with the rest of the things. Drying her hands, she gave Steve another look up and down.

“Okay, you’ll do for now. Let’s go shopping.”

He couldn’t remember Ruby being so bossy. He was starting to think it wasn’t a good thing.




Chapter 3 (#ue7247201-776d-595b-9703-19c513a70a76)


The first thing Ruby did was park up in the high street and took Steve to a cash point. “Take as much out as you can. The less you use your credit card the better – it’s got your name on it, I assume.”

“Yeah…”

“Right, well, we don’t need someone questioning anything, so use cash.”

When had she got so bright, so street-wise, so mistrustful? Had she watched too many thriller movies? Next she’d be donning dark glasses and constantly looking over her shoulder.

“How much am I going to need?” he said, pulling out his wallet.

Ruby put her hand on her hip, and looked again at Steve, speculatively. He could almost see the cogs turning as she worked it out. “Well, you’re going to need a new wardrobe, haircut, and you can buy me lunch.” She grinned, flashing her straight, white teeth. Wasn’t he supposed to be the one with the persuasive smile?

Once he’d withdrawn his maximum cash limit, from two credit cards, Ruby grabbed his arm, and they walked down the quiet high street. Steve secured his favourite, well-worn LA baseball cap on his head. He found that if he kept his nose to the ground the cap hid his face well.

“First things first, let’s fix your hair before we head over to Cribbs.”

“I like my hair.”

“Yes, but it looks very Steve Mason,” she said, lowering her voice when she got to his name. “We need to change your image from gorgeous actor to mediocre man.”

Steve frowned warily.

“It’s nice, bit longer than the last time I saw you. Maybe we need a short back and sides.”

“But I’ve got a film in three months.”

“It’s hair! It’ll grow back. Trust me.”

“Why don’t we get a bowl and just cut round that,” Steve said dryly.

“Don’t tempt me. But we do need to keep you semi-respectable otherwise you won’t attract anyone.” She dragged him towards a hairdressers. She walked inside then stopped. He’d seen it too. He tugged the cap down further over his face. A coffee table laden with glossy magazines, old issues – one with Steve Mason on the front page with Erica Kealey. Giving Steve an apologetic smile, Ruby pulled on his arm and they walked back out before anyone noticed, and continued further down the high street – Steve more sombre than Ruby – to a barbershop. Men only. No glossy magazines, and if there were, it would be cars, cars, cars. And the odd issue of Nuts.

Did he really have to cut his hair? He’d grown it for his last movie, where he needed to play the smooth hero. It was around the nape of his neck, and if un-gelled like today, it had a mad unkempt look.

“Isn’t there somewhere more…designer?” Steve swallowed, looking up at the barber’s sign over the door – specifying cheap cuts.Would they make a mess of his beautiful hair? He liked his hair – just the way it was. He had a particular barber he visited in LA who he trusted, who cut his hair the way Steve preferred. It cost him but he didn’t care.

“There’s nothing wrong with this place.” Ruby grabbed his arm.

“And you know this because…?”

“Friends come here all the time.” Steve raised his eyebrows. “Male friends. It’s got a good reputation, honest. But anyway, we’re not really here to get you a good haircut. Just a haircut. The worse it looks, actually, the better.”

Steve’s mouth fell open. How would looking bad help him find the woman of his dreams? But before he could reply, Ruby tugged him into the barbers, and smiled at the young man behind the desk.

“Haircut for my brother, please. Nice and short, and maybe spiky on top. Nothing too fashionable.” Ruby’s expression was stern, and the young man in his early twenties with pristine, gelled black hair looked at her as if she was mad. Ruby might as well have asked for the clippers to do the job herself. Then, the man gave an inquisitive glance towards Steve. Would he recognise him, or not believe his luck? Sometimes people could be too gobsmacked or embarrassed to ask.

Steve rolled his eyes, not wanting to let the guy dwell on who he was. The quicker he was in and out of this place the better. He hoped.

“Do as she says, otherwise we’ll both be paying for it.” Pulling the baseball cap off, he slumped into a chair, faced the mirror, and the man placed a gown around him. Remembering the happy photograph he’d just seen of himself and Erica smiling blissfully, reminded Steve why he was doing this. Ruby was right; the hair would grow back. It was a small price to pay if he did find true love.

Very quickly, Steve watched the hair he’d grown slowly come off. It wasn’t long as in trailing down his back, but it had a mature length to it. The natural wave was starting to show now it had some length. Slicked back or left a little unkempt, he had a good head of hair. It was cut and styled with scissors rather than, as the young barber was currently doing, using clippers. He was getting a ‘short, back and sides’ like his own father used to order when he was a boy.

The barber worked in silence. Usually there would have been banter, but with Ruby standing there, her arms crossed and expression firm, he probably didn’t dare make light conversation. Steve kept quiet too, for fear of giving the game away and he watched his transforming image in despair.

With every buzz of the clippers, Steve felt sickened. A couple of years ago someone in the industry had advised Steve to grow his hair, and by doing so he’d been surprised that instantly he seemed to become popular in Hollywood. He’d lost his boyish looks and become rougher, a harder looking, mature man. Something the filmmakers wanted. The roles he was offered changed, or the ones he went for, he got. No longer the supporting role, he’d become the leading hero.

And he’d always liked how Erica used to run her hands through it while they made love…

“Oh, and thin it out a little, so it’s not so thick,” Ruby added, hovering over the poor guy who clipped and cut his way through Steve’s light-brown hair. “I was wondering if you should have some highlights—”

“Highlights?”

The barber jumped back at Steve’s outburst, apologising for nearly cutting Steve’s ear.

“But it’s lightening up as he’s using the thinning scissors on it. Relax, Bro.” She nudged Steve, and he gave her his best-unimpressed smile. He noticed she hadn’t called him Steve once in front of the barber or the other salon workers.

Once the barber had finished, he stood behind Steve with a mirror so that he could see the back of his head. Steve looked at his reflection properly for the first time throughout the ordeal. His slightly longer, wavy crop was gone and in its place a shorter, choppier style that did indeed transform him. Whether it was the sort of transformation he wanted he wasn’t entirely sure.

He paid for his haircut, plus some hair wax Ruby insisted he purchase, tipped the guy (he deserved it for tolerating Ruby) and they walked out. Weirdly, his head felt lighter by the lack of hair. He could also feel the bitter cold wind around his neck and ears more so. At least it had stopped raining. He went to put his hand through his hair and quickly stopped as soon as he felt the gel.

“You do actually look younger,” Ruby said. They headed back towards her car.

Steve scowled. Was this really going to be worth it? Would he really find his not-so-perfect woman in three months? “Man, I had it like this about three years ago when I was in a sitcom.”

“Man, I had it like this about three years ago when I was in a sitcom,” Ruby mimicked his accent.

“Shut up.”

“Shudd-up,” Ruby did it again and giggled, but Steve scowled.

Steve could not help glancing in shop windows as they walked, catching his reflection, his new look.

“Your hair will grow back. You didn’t actually have that much cut off. It’s only about an inch in places, two maybe on top.” Ruby sighed. “The way you’re looking at me it’s as if I asked you to have a number one all over.”

“I can’t believe I paid eight bucks—”

“Pounds—”

“For a haircut,” Steve continued, ignoring Ruby’s correction.

“Oh, how the other half live,” she said. “Having a cheap haircut makes you normal. Now stop complaining. Let’s buy you some clothes. You can’t go around in your designer gear. You’re looking too trendy.”

“I like some of my designer gear.”

“You can’t wear it, or if you do, tell people it’s fake.”

Crammed back into Ruby’s car – Steve really was contemplating buying her something bigger, possibly today – she drove them to the Mall at Cribbs Causeway on the M5. Two floors of wall-to-wall high street shops, with a light and airy feel from the glass rooftop. It was unbelievable that when he’d left for LA, fifteen years ago, this building had just opened. He’d only seen the development phase. Steve admired the tall palm trees as he walked past the shops, reminding him of California, where they could grow that tall without being under glass.

They hit the shops, thumbing through T-shirts, shirts, jeans, everything on a hanger. Ruby had bypassed some of the fashionable shops advertising designer labels, in search for the cheaper stores.

“Pick out what you like. Remember you could be staying for a while. You need a new wardrobe.”

Ruby had picked him out a new watch, which cost all of twenty-five pounds, and insisted on a pair of sunglasses. They were in the sale as it was October. He had sarcastically argued he didn’t really need a pair.

“But you can’t wear the ones you do – even driving. Says film star all over them.”

“I won’t need sunglasses. I haven’t even seen the sun yet.”

“This time of year, the sun is really low – when it does come out – so actually you will.”

He’d agreed, handed over the cash, luckily no customer assistants asked any questions. In fact, at one point he thought he saw empathy in one guy. He must have thought Ruby’s henpecking intolerable, however Steve, for some reason, enjoyed his sister’s fuss, even if she was overbearing. Any other woman would not be getting away with this sort of behaviour, obviously, but as it was Ruby and she seemed happy to boss him about, he let her.

He had fifteen years to make up for.

Although, buried resentment reminded him he hadn’t altogether forgiven Ruby yet. But today wasn’t the time to dwell. They were all that was left of their family. And she was doing him a favour.

He just didn’t like how she was taking pleasure in it. She was way too smug. This had better work.

Laden with the bags containing Steve’s new wardrobe, Ruby stopped abruptly, looking at a dress in a shop window and sighed. Maybe it was time to make it up to her the only way he knew how.

Build a few bridges, Steve.

“Come on, all this shopping was for me; I’ll treat you now.”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to.”

“Yes I do.” Steve grabbed her elbow, and escorted her into the shop. Twenty minutes later – Ruby had tried on a few dresses in the end – they left the shop, Ruby grinning gleefully.

“‘Oh, you don’t have to,’” Steve said sarcasm lacing his words, “‘but is it okay if I try on this one, and this one and this one?’”

Ruby elbowed him playfully in the ribs. “Thank you, I’m very grateful. I’m not used to being spoilt.”

Steve winked. “Not a problem, Roo.”

“Just don’t make a habit of flashing your money around though,” she said more sternly.

“Okay,” he said, then mumbled, “I try to do a nice thing…”

“You were nice, now how about a coffee. I’m all shopped out and need a rest.”

Steve couldn’t agree more. The jet lag was catching up with him. He needed a boost.

They stopped at a coffee shop in the middle of the Mall which had a seating area under the escalators.

Steve chose a table tucked away, while Ruby ordered the coffees. He grew anxious as he looked at the clothes in the bags. If the press got hold of this, would they make it out as an early midlife crisis on his part? He started to imagine the headlines; ‘Mediocre Man Mason.’

Steve watched the shoppers passing him by. No one was taking a blind bit of notice of him. Maybe the people of Bristol were less likely to believe a Hollywood star would be right under their nose, whereas in London his cover could have easily been blown.

He wouldn’t get too excited yet. This was the first day. If he did get discovered, he’d have to say goodbye to Ruby, or she’d be swept up in it all. Luckily, he’d changed his name to his mum’s maiden name as he tried the rounds in Hollywood. An agent had suggested that Mason had a better ring to it than Fisher. This helped Mum and Ruby, when things had started to warm up for Steve on the fame front. They were able to keep a low profile, without being instantaneously linked to the new actor on the scene. It helped they lived in the UK, too. But he’d kept them private as much as he could and it seemed to work. Ruby had led a normal life as far as he could tell.

Although, was she happy with this normal life? He’d ask her one day. Today she was too keen to be his personal shopper.

“Large cappuccino for you, skinny vanilla latte for me.” Ruby placed the coffees on the table. “We’ll have these, shop some more, then you can buy me lunch.” She grinned.

“I was hoping you’d say we could go home. Haven’t I got enough clothes? I don’t have to get them all today.”

“Oh no, the next stop is the opticians.”

“I don’t need glasses.”

“You do now.”

She sipped her coffee, and winced, it was still too hot. He’d tested his own, but could drink it napalm. His mother had always said he had an asbestos mouth, drinking tea practically from the kettle. Fascinated, he watched Ruby stir her latte.

“What? Have I got milk on my lip or something?”

He laughed. “No. You just remind me so much of Mum.”

“I do?”

“Yes, your mannerisms, the facial expressions. Your eyes.”

“Yeah, they’re this a dull sludge colour, great.”

“They’re green. They’re not dull.”

“So where’d you get the pretty eyes from, huh?” She was referring to the light blue eyes that had now become one of his assets as an actor. That and his smile. Oh, he knew if he looked some women straight in the eye, he saw an instant transformation from calm and collected to a nervous jelly mess. He’d seen the state it could create a thousand times. Especially now he was Steve Mason – the Actor and Hollywood Hunk. He’d learnt in his teens he could make girls giggly and shy. He even used his eyes on his own mother to get away with murder.

“Dad, apparently,” he said. That’s what his mother used to say; he was the spitting image of his father.

“Great, Dad passes on the pretty eye gene to just you,” she said, cupping her latte glass and pouting.

“Your eyes are pretty.”

Ruby snorted. “They don’t sparkle like yours. So annoying! And don’t look at me like that, either.” She wagged her finger. “It won’t wash with me. And don’t forget it.”

They people-watched while finishing their coffees.

“Shall we go?” Ruby said, draining the last of her drink and pushing the cup away.

“Damn it, when did you get so bossy?”

The next thing Steve knew he was being lead into an opticians.

“We need glasses,” Ruby said to an assistant that approached her. She was a pretty blonde, who immediately took a shine to Steve who was trying on different pairs of glasses.

“Aren’t you—?”

“No!” Steve laughed it off, keeping a pair of frames on his face.

“He gets that all the time.” Ruby stood in between them. “That’s why we were thinking some glasses.”

“Do you need your eyes tested?”

“Nothing wrong with my eyes, twenty-twenty vision,” Steve said, beaming his million-dollar smile at her. Ruby pinched him. He rubbed his arm, scowling at Ruby, then looked back to the assistant. “I’ve got a job interview, thought glasses would make me look more professional.”

The assistant nodded. If she believed that, she’d believe anything.

“Here, try these.” Ruby picked out a pair of glasses, thin silver frames and handed them to him. He put them on, looked in the mirror, then looked at her, she frowned. “Hmmm…Not enough.”

“Remind me why I’m doing this again?” he said quietly so only Ruby could hear.

“Clark Kent.” Ruby pushed another pair into his hands, putting the other pair back. “No one realised he was Superman, did they? Not even Lois.” She whipped the next pair of glasses off his face. “Not nerdy enough.”

She found another pair. Steve knew what she was doing; she was trying to find frames that didn’t quite suit him, yet didn’t want them to look so ridiculous no one would fancy him. He put the glasses on. They were bigger frames, though fashionable, but they didn’t quite complement his face, so would hide his looks, at least a little. His heart still palpitated every time he glimpsed his new haircut in the mirror, let alone the spectacles on his face. What was he doing?

Early mid-life crisis was definitely what it looked like. The press could not get wind of this.

“Perfect!” Ruby clapped her hands together. “Can we buy these, please?” she said, approaching the assistant, who’d watched dumbfounded for the last ten minutes. She’d tried helping but Ruby hadn’t allowed her to express her expert opinion. The assistant’s face said it all. These glasses were all wrong, which meant they were right for their purpose.

“Well, uh, they’re our display.” The assistant hesitated. “It takes a few days for them to come through usually—”

“We were hoping to take them today – as he only needs plain lenses.”

Steve got out his wallet, pulling out twenties. “Here,” he said, winking at the assistant, young enough to use his blue-eyed charm on, plus she wasn’t his sister. “I’m sure this will do it. Just not a word now.” He tapped his nose.

“Okay, okay.” Works every time. The assistant hurried off, ran it through the till, having a word with the manager. She put the glasses in a case and handed them to Steve, keeping hold of his hand for a brief moment.

“You know, I’m free tonight—”

“I’m sorry, but he’s gay.” Ruby rushed in, grabbing Steve’s arm. The assistant looked taken back.

“What?” Steve said, astounded.

“Come on, Bro,” Ruby said sternly. “Bruno’s waiting for you.”

“Bruno?” Steve mouthed, still wearing a confused expression.

Immediately leaving the opticians shop, Ruby took the glasses out of the case and started cleaning them and removing the tags. “Put these on.”

“Now?”

“No, next week.” She rolled her eyes. “Yes, she was on to you then.”

“I thought this whole idea was for me to find a date.”

“You can’t start using your charm like that. Not until we’ve fully agreed on your identity.”

Steve’s phone buzzed inside his pocket, he pulled it out, frowned and shoved it back. He’d deal with messages later.

“Phone!” Ruby said, stopping abruptly, holding a shopping-bag-laden hand in the air, as if pointing to a light bulb appearing above her head. “We’d better get you a phone. Nothing too fancy mind, but you’re going to need to give out your phone number, and you don’t want to give out that one.” She tapped his arm, pointing to a phone shop ahead. “Get a pay as you go. That’ll do you.”

Twenty-five minutes, and some mild arguing later, Steve walked out of the shop with a brand new phone. Nothing too flash, as Ruby had insisted, something to make calls and take text messages. Ruby strolled behind him with a satisfied grin. Steve had wanted the all singing and dancing latest smart phone – even he didn’t have it yet – but Ruby had a point. Unfortunately.

“You want someone to think you’re poor and still love you, right?”

“Why did I let you talk me into this?” Steve muttered, momentarily annoyed by her smug happiness. He stood in the middle of the Cribbs, by the fountain, trying to work out his new phone and put Ruby’s number in it. Ruby threw a coin into the fountain and closed her eyes. He hoped she was wishing this plan of hers would work.

Ruby nudged him. “Oh and, you know, I was thinking, you’ve got to ditch your accent.”

“I’ve worked fifteen years to get this accent. I have to sound American, only way to get the best parts, kid.”

“Hugh Grant does okay.”

“Hugh Grant gets typecast.”

“Point taken.” She nodded. “But you still need to lose it. Otherwise they won’t believe you’re not Steve Mason. You’re an actor, act British. Or something.” She waved her hands in frustration. “Pretend this is your next big role.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll try. I’m sure hanging around you will bring my accent back slowly.” Plus make me swear profusely.

“You say it as if it’s a bad thing.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and hugged her closer. “No, it’s far from a bad thing. I just can’t believe my baby sister has grown up…to someone really bossy.”

“I’m assertive, not bossy.” She elbowed him in the ribs, and he groaned.

“Right, yes, assertive. So where am I taking you to lunch?”




Chapter 4 (#ue7247201-776d-595b-9703-19c513a70a76)


With paranoia setting in, Ruby decided to leave the Mall for lunch and drove Steve to her favourite local café.

They were sitting in a corner making idle chit-chat whilst perusing the menu. Ruby had checked out the dessert menu first – as well as the cake options deliciously displayed on the counter. It always helped her choose what she wanted as a main. The café was quiet, with hardly any customers, which she hoped meant fewer chances of someone realising who Steve really was.

Would he fly straight back to LA if he was spotted? She liked him being here; it had been so long. She was trying to hold in some of her excitement at having her brother back in her life, for fear of scaring him away. She hadn’t believed it was Steve on the phone until she’d seen him in the flesh at the hotel, but she needed to rein in her forceful nature, otherwise surely he’d up and leave? Was he used to being talked to like this? Hollywood-bred divas were not used to being told no. Would Steve be the same?

She couldn’t help it, this is what she’d become. At work, she played her role firm but fair. She couldn’t afford to look weak; if her staff didn’t keep the hotel residents happy, she was just as likely to lose her job as any of the others.

Since her mum had died she had no one else but herself, so she’d toughened herself up and didn’t take shit – this part she stuck to particularly after a few failed relationships with lousy boyfriends.

She watched as Steve turned over the menu, looking at the choices, utterly relaxed. He appeared down to earth and laid back, like he’d been as a teenager, so maybe Hollywood hadn’t ruined him yet.

Steve looked up, catching her staring. “What?”

“Nothing,” Ruby said, smiling. “Can’t believe you’re really here, that’s all.”

The waitress approached the table and took their order, placing two glasses of iced water down that they’d ordered when first seated. Steve had probably been a bit Hollywood Diva-ish insisting on the slice of lemon. At least he hadn’t insisted on it being sparkling. This kind of café served water from the tap unless you were willing to pay for a bottle. Ruby felt strongly that there was nothing wrong with tap water, so why buy it? Even in the restaurant at the hotel she insisted on jugs of water being made available at the table. Admittedly, they did have ice and lemon too.

Once the waitress left, Steve sipped his water, then sighed with a frown, and said quietly, “Sometimes, Ruby, I think there is a price to pay for fame. It’s called loneliness.”

“Wow, you have got it bad,” Ruby said, tucking the menu back into its holder to tidy the table.

“I’m happy, don’t get me wrong. My dream came true and I’ve found success.”

“But?”

“I’m not where I thought I’d be with life. You know… kids, family, a wife.”

“Maybe you can’t have both.”

“I want to say nonsense, but now money and fame has arrived, maybe it’s true.”

Steve’s success had started slowly, with minor character roles in television programmes, bigger parts started coming his way. Heavens, Mum and Ruby hadn’t realised how famous he would get. Their mum had died before the release of Perfection, and the interviews on chat shows and in glossy magazines had intensified. Ruby was reminded of him very often, though eventually she’d stopped watching or reading, because she didn’t like what she read. It impaired the memory she had of her big brother, her hero.

As Steve had become more successful, Ruby remembered Mum had wanted the family to stay out of the limelight. At the time, Ruby hadn’t realised why. At the grand age of twelve, she’d boasted to school friends about her big brother going off to Hollywood to become an actor, and as he’d got small parts, usually in adverts, she’d shared the news. Good job that was before Facebook and Twitter. Those days, as a proud teenager, she wanted to stand in Cribbs Causeway with a megaphone, telling everyone who her brother was because she’d been so thrilled for him, but as Steve was finding now, she’d learnt people weren’t always true to you. They could have a hidden agenda.

Fortunately, she’d lost touch with most of her school friends now – she wasn’t a major fan of social media, not after Terry – so no one would know about Steve. Nowadays she didn’t tell people she was the sister of the Steve Mason – she’d learnt the hard way. The people she worked with certainly weren’t aware. As Steve understood, it was hard to trust people if they knew you were related to someone rich and famous. Were they hanging around because they liked you, or wanted to meet your brother?

She’d had her fingers burnt good and proper only two years ago in the early years of Steve’s fame. He knew nothing about it and she wanted to keep it that way. Bitterness still lingered in her heart over that sordid affair – how naïve she’d been. It grated on her to this day, the memory of her stupidity. She wouldn’t fall for it again.

Now, regretfully, she also carried a smidge of jealousy. He’d been able to follow his dream. Ruby had not – not that she truly knew what she wanted to do. When she’d felt ready to start her own adventure, Mum had got ill.

And now they were together, changing Steve’s image, trying to make him fit in, so he might stand a chance of finding someone to love. Maybe there was nothing to be jealous about?

“So what type of girl are you looking for?”

“I don’t know.” Steve shrugged, leaning on the table. “Someone I can take to a restaurant who doesn’t have to order salad so she can stay a size zero.” Steve quickly held up his hands defensively as Ruby stared, reproachful. “Sorry, I don’t mean it like that. Don’t get me wrong, I know that actresses work hard and it’s a major pressure for them. I have that pressure too, but nowhere near the same level. I suppose, what I’m trying to say is, I want to find someone who doesn’t have to worry about appearing ‘perfect’.”

“Okay, fair point.” Ruby nodded. Strict diets and no chocolate for life were not her idea of fun, she thought as she eyed the scrumptious chocolate fudge cake at the counter. And the size of the door-stop sandwiches heading towards them were not for the strict dieters either. Imagine the carbs.

The waitress placed the sandwiches in front of them, with salad and a pile of crisps on the side.

Steve smiled his thanks at her, then when she’d gone continued the conversation with Ruby, “I want a woman I can laugh with, too. A good hearty giggle. About silly stuff.”

“A woman with curves, and a good sense of humour,” Ruby said aloud, as well as making mental notes.

“Of course.”

“How fussy are you? Does she have to be pretty? Because you’re not going to find that many gorgeous girls to sweep you off your feet in Bristol,” Ruby joked. “Yes, there are plenty of attractive women, but we can’t all afford to have impeccable beauty treatments.”

Steve shook his head. “I know. There are immaculately groomed women lining the streets of LA but none are suitable.” He sighed. “There has to be an attraction, obviously, but I want someone I can…love, and who’ll love me. And maybe start a family.”

“Can’t make you any promises, Bro, but we’ll try. When there is a time limit, too, it makes things trickier.”

“I know.”

“There’s no guarantee this will work.”

“It had better work! You made me cut my hair, ditch my designer clothes, and made me wear glasses,” he said, narrowing his eyes. The corners of his mouth curved to a smile and Ruby chuckled.

God, she hoped this worked.

***

“I’ll be home soon,” Ruby said to him, keeping the car running, as he unloaded bags from the trunk – Ruby had corrected him with ‘boot’. “I want to pop into work to see what I can sort out.”

Steve, feeling weary from traipsing around the shops, but happy about the time spent with Ruby, carried the shopping bags upstairs. There was little point emptying his case now; he hung up his newly bought wardrobe instead. Ruby wouldn’t allow him to wear his old clothes, anyway.

Considering Steve hadn’t seen Ruby since their mother’s funeral, over a year ago, he was pleased they were getting along. At the funeral, he would have liked to have stayed for longer, but his work schedule had been tight, and he’d had to leave Ruby to grieve on her own. Thankfully, the press had stayed away and honoured his family’s privacy.

He’d grieved on his own. Maybe that’s why he’d fallen so hard for Erica, his emotions so bare and raw. Neither Steve nor Ruby had really mentioned their mum today. Maybe they were too scared to bring to the surface the emotions it might evoke. Fifteen years had put distance between Steve and his family, yet he would never forget his mother. She’d been the one insisting he followed his dream, supporting him through thick and thin. Unfortunately, when the time came and he could truly repay her, she was gone.

So he would do all that he could to help Ruby.

He raked his hands over his face, then headed back down to the kitchen. He stared into one of the overhead cupboards and spied, sitting on the top shelf at the back, a cafetière gathering dust. Unfortunately, after checking the rest of the cupboards, he couldn’t find any ground coffee. He could take a quick trip down to the shop, he’d seen one on the corner. It wouldn’t harm.

He grabbed the key and strolled down the hill. Ten minutes later, he was meandering around the shop with a basket, picking up essentials, which included a bag of ground coffee. He preferred to buy fresh beans and grind his own coffee, for ultimate taste, however he wasn’t sure whether Ruby had a grinder or not. Trawling the aisles had a certain normality to it that Steve hadn’t enjoyed in a while. Usually someone did this stuff for him, delivered his groceries – he had a team of people doing his day to day tasks. He hated the word, but yes, he had an entourage. But today, going around this small shop didn’t feel menial. It felt great, liberating.

Freedom.

Like the good old days.

Near the checkout stood the newsstand. Anxiety slowly crept up his back, but deciding it was best to keep up with the news, he selected a couple of newspapers and a glossy magazine that followed the ins and outs of A-listers. He’d need to keep an eye on this. One whiff that he was near Bristol and he’d need to tell Marie to make sure his double was seen holidaying somewhere hot and far away from here.

The middle-aged woman in her smart, blue uniform didn’t bat an eyelid, too busy scanning the items in his basket and shoving them into a carrier bag. She only looked him in the eye when she asked for his money. Maybe she didn’t follow the world’s top ten sexiest men – Steve was voted tenth last month. But it was a good thing she didn’t, Steve quickly remembered, irritated that he’d felt a moment of disappointment that she hadn’t recognised him. When had he got so cocky? Confidence was more attractive than cockiness.

He didn’t want to get recognised. It would give him more chance of finding someone.

Steve strolled towards Ruby’s house, her car still not on the driveway. Her neighbour’s front door opened and an elderly lady slowly emerged, smartly dressed as though off to church. She wore a hearing aid over one ear and used a wooden stick.

“Oh, hello,” she said, cheerfully beaming at Steve. “Has our Ruby got herself a young man at last?”

Steve laughed and shook his head, approaching the woman. “No, no, I’m her brother.” He put his shopping down and held out his palm to shake hands with the woman.

“Ruby never said she had a brother. Well, well, what a handsome young man.” The woman took his hand with her frail fingers and patted it, rather than shake it. “It’s good she’s got company. I’m Daphne. I’ll see you again then?”

“Yes, I’m staying for a while.” Steve hesitated, unsure whether to give his own name or not. They hadn’t agreed on an identity. A name. He’d probably have to use a different one.

Daphne wandered off down the road, very slowly, and Steve let himself into the house. He flicked the kettle switch again, and it wasn’t long before he was sitting at the dining room table with a decent mug of coffee, thumbing through the papers.

No mentions of him being anywhere near Bristol. Though, to be honest, today must be a good day. There were no mentions of him at all. This was British press though. He’d check with Marie what the Americans were saying, too.

***

Ruby had entered the hotel by the back doors and headed straight towards her office. She thought this would minimise her chances of being seen as she didn’t wish to be in the hotel any longer than necessary. Her days off were precious at the best of times. She worked all hours God sent at times in this place. She loved it, but she also needed a break from it too, and with Steve home, she wanted to spend time with him.

“Ruby, have you got a minute?”

With her face hidden behind her monitor looking at the staff roster, she grimaced and cursed to herself. Too good to be true. Sometimes her open door policy was a pain in the arse. She looked round and smiled, knowing damn well it looked fake, “What is it, Alice?”

Alice stood nervously in the doorway holding a piece of paper. She wore a sleek black spa uniform with a mandarin collar. Her chestnut hair was pinned into a neat bun, with a couple of spiralling tendrils down the side of her perfectly made up face.

“Pete hasn’t approved the order I put through. I need some more supplies for the spa. I’m running low. I can’t massage without oil.”

Pete was Ruby’s assistant manager, and not particularly good at his job. Ruby hadn’t hired him. She hired most of the staff, but he’d been transferred from another hotel in the chain. She wondered if he’d been so shit at his job they’d decided to sweep him under the carpet by sending him to a smaller hotel where he could do less damage. Only it meant more work for Ruby.

“Alice, we have budgets. You’re going to have to manage your stock better. Look, can we discuss this tomorrow. I’ll take a proper look at it then – I’m on my day—”

“But I need this stuff!”

“It can wait until tomorrow,” Ruby said, sternly. Lydia appeared at the door. “What now?” Ruby cringed. That was louder and sharper than intended.

“A customer was asking to see the manager,” Lydia said, entering the office. “I was looking for Pete, but I can’t find him. I thought I’d try your office but I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

“I’m not supposed to be.”

“Are you catching up with your brother today?”

“Yeah.…” Ruby said warily. “How do you know?”

“Oh, gosh, totally forgot, I wasn’t supposed to say anything, but he called yesterday from the airport.”

“Did he?”

“Airport, huh?” Alice chimed in, nudging Lydia. “Did he sound hot?” Lydia blushed as Alice asked Ruby eagerly, “What’s he like? You never said you had a brother. Will we get an introduction? Where’s he been?”

God, where had he been? Steve and Ruby would need to organise a cover story.

“He’s been away.” How lame does that sound? She should have said working abroad, but daren’t stumble too much over it now. “Erm, so, I need to get on. Alice, we’ll talk budgets and orders tomorrow.”

“Um, while you’re here, did you want to see this customer?” Lydia asked, grimacing.

“Not particularly. Are they complaining?” Ruby closed down her computer and shoved some papers back into the top drawer of her desk – harder than intended, the contents slamming to the back.

“No, I don’t think so. They didn’t seem to be in a bad mood,” Lydia said.

“Right, well, get Pete to deal with it. If they start moaning get Callum to give them a complimentary drink, or something. It’s my day off and unless it’s urgent, I’m leaving. Tell Pete I’ll be in early in the morning.”

Lydia nodded and Alice opened her mouth, about to wave her order form at Ruby, but Ruby didn’t give her a chance, she grabbed her handbag, and darted out of there.

Usually she gave the hotel one hundred and ten percent of her attention. But not today. She didn’t know how much time she had with Steve, so she needed to make the most of it.

***

As Ruby entered the house, the atmosphere changed. The door slammed, she huffed and puffed.

“I am so pissed off,” she said, removing her shoes and dumping her handbag on the couch. Steve chose to remain silent. He’d learnt a long time ago to let someone rant when they needed to. “I got cornered by a member of staff. What part of ‘it’s my day off’ do they not understand?”

Steve made Ruby a fresh coffee in the cafetière, and put it in front of her.

They definitely needed a coffee machine – it would have been ready and waiting in the carafe to be poured. He lived, breathed, survived only because of his coffee machine. Sitting at the table, Ruby muttered language that truly shocked him, drumming her fingers along the wood. Yes, he heard curses a lot, but not from the mouth of his dear, sweet, baby sister. She used to shout, “oh, poo,” when angered, not every expletive under the sun.

“Who’s Pete?” With Ruby’s face looking like thunder, Steve would hate to be him.

“My assistant manager and he’s a total waste of space. Probably why Lydia couldn’t find him. Skiving off chatting up a waitress, knowing him. There have been rumours he takes naps in a room if it’s available.”

Steve chuckled. “Ruby, can you give me a job?”

She screwed up her face. “Do you really want a job?”

“How else am I going to meet people? I can’t stay cooped up here. I can’t just wander around Cribbs Causeway.”

“There is Cabot Circus.”

“What?” Steve frowned.

“It’s another shopping centre, but never mind.” Ruby shook her head, gesturing for Steve to continue.

“I need to make some friends, get out and socialise, and work is the best way. Isn’t it?”

“Yes, I suppose so.” She rested her head in her hands, slumping onto the table. “I can’t pay you – as I said, there’s just no budget right now. You’ll just have to keep it quiet that you’re not actually on the payroll. It’s a bit dodgy, but I don’t think anyone will question it.”

“I don’t need the money. I want an excuse to get up every morning, that’s all. Lead a normal life.”

“Okay.” She sighed. “This is the best I can do; cleaner or bar staff?”

“Bar staff, that’s a no-brainer!”

“You’re sure? Some would rather clean.”

“How many women am I going to meet with my head down the toilet?”

“Good point. But still, I bet you come begging after a week.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve worked in a bar before. I can practise my cocktail making abilities.” He shook an imaginary cocktail shaker.

“Tom Cruise has already done that film! A very long time ago.”

“They might remake it, like they’ve done Footloose.”

Ruby sank her head into her hands. “Oh God, I hope I don’t get the sack for this.”

“You won’t, but if you do, I’d make sure you were okay. I can afford to.” He patted her arm.

“That’s not the point. I actually like my job.”

“You were cursing it only five minutes ago. I think I heard every swear word in the English language. French, too.”

“Oh, shut up.” Ruby finished her coffee. “Coffee tasted good by the way. Is this real coffee?” She looked at him speculatively.

He grinned. “I went shopping.”

Her eyes widened with horror. “You did what?”

“Relax. No one took a blind bit of notice. I’ve even got us some dinner in.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve failed to get to a supermarket this week.”

Steve stood, clearing the table. “So when do I start my new job?” he asked, taking the mugs out to the kitchen.

“You can start tomorrow. You’ll have to do some training first, about the facilities, hygiene awareness and general hotel procedures.”

“Awesome.”

“You’ve really got to work on the accent.”

“I am!”

“You’re an actor for Christ’s sake. Pretend it’s a part you’re playing, a role.”

Steve opened the fridge and started taking the ingredients out he needed to make dinner.

“You’re only supposed to blow the bloody doors off!” he said, in his best British accent.

“Ha! Ha! Very Michael Caine. Just tone it down a little.”

Steve felt a sting on his right ear where Ruby flicked it.

“That hurt.” He rubbed his head and scowled. “Make yourself useful and peel the potatoes.”

“Pardon?” Ruby raised her eyebrows, as if waiting patiently.

Steve cleared his throat. “Please can you peel the potatoes,” he concentrated on sounding more British, “Darling? Ouch!”

***

“Okay, thinking about tomorrow,” Ruby said, tucking into her plate of food. “I think you might want to act a little clumsy or nerdy. It worked for Clark remember?”

Between them they’d knocked up a simple dinner with lamb chops and lashings of mint sauce. Damn, had he missed mint sauce. This was what living an ordinary life was about.

“More acting required, huh?”

“Yes, and I was thinking that we should change your name.”

Steve nodded. She had a point and he had thought this too.

“What about Stuart, it’s close to Steve? I wondered about Stefan, but would that be too close?”

“Stuart is good. Not so keen on Stefan.” Steve pulled a face.

“Then, Stuart it is. If I start saying Steve, at least I can correct myself. Also, as you’re my brother you’ll have Fisher back for your surname.”

Steve nodded. “Stuart, Stuart, Stuart,” he said, more to himself. Would he remember he was using a different name? Maybe he really did have to look at this as just another acting part. But there’d be no camera on him.

“Oh, and we’ve got to come up with a back-story, for why you’ve been away. You phoned from the airport.”

“How’d you know about that?”

“Lydia let it slip.”

“Will I get to meet Lydia? Is she cute?”

“I don’t know, she’s not my type.” Ruby rolled her eyes. “She’s quieter than Alice. But I’m not getting you a job so you can shag half the staff. You’re going to have to pull your weight, Steve, otherwise the others will start moaning. You have to work.”

“Yes, I know, boss.”




Chapter 5 (#ue7247201-776d-595b-9703-19c513a70a76)


Ruby parked in the staff car park – as a manager she had her own space. Steve looked up at the quaint hotel, getting out of the car. Ivy grew up the corner of the brickwork and around some of the signage. Durdham Lodge. His insides jolted.

Nerves?

“It’s four stars, but it’s a small, manageable hotel,” Ruby said as she locked her car. “You’ll be fine.”

Since landing, he’d been sure someone was going to shout out, “Hey, that’s Steve Mason,” and draw attention to him. Fortunately, it hadn’t happened yet, and with a telephone call to Marie yesterday late evening, she’d reassured him the tabloids believed he was still holidaying in the Caribbean getting over his break up with Erica.

But was this foolish?

No, if he wanted to find a woman to love him sincerely, for him, not his looks, fame or fortune, then he had to give this a try. However mad it seemed.

What if he didn’t find anyone?

Then he’d given it a go. At least he’d have had quality time with Ruby…

“In the week it’s mainly people staying overnight on business, and at weekends we have spa breaks and tourists on city breaks.” Ruby chatted as they walked in through the staff entrance, at the back of the hotel and along a narrow corridor not for the viewing of the paying public. It didn’t have the luxurious decor expected in a four star country hotel, just dirtying magnolia walls. They passed a waiter and a chambermaid, and a small room that looked like it was for the staff, with smells of coffee wafting from it. Ruby swung open a door, they hit the plush red carpet, lavish decor and the aroma of freshly cut flowers. They were inside the hotel. A telephone was ringing in the background. Steve pushed his new glasses up on his face and slouched a little.

Ruby held open a door to an office – her office – and closed it after them. Steve breathed a little more easily.

“I warn you now, this is not as glamorous as producing a film,” she said.

Steve chuckled, straightening his back. “You’ll be surprised. A film set can be far from glamorous at times.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure it’s really boring.” Steve laughed again at Ruby’s sarcasm. He was starting to get used to her British wit again.

“Actually it can be very boring.”

“Yeah, yeah…We’re in early, but the hotel is staffed twenty-four seven.”

No shit early. Ruby had him up and out before seven a.m. this morning. Okay, he was used to early starts on set, and very long days, but this morning he’d found it hard to get out of bed, as if his body wanted to recoup some sleep. It had only been a couple of days since landing. Jet lag would still be taking its toll. It hadn’t helped it was still dark outside, either.

A photograph of Ruby and Mum rested on Ruby’s desk, which Steve picked up and studied, smiling at it. She took it out of his hand, scowling, and put it back in its place, then dumped her bag in the bottom drawer of the desk. How long had she been doing this job? He hadn’t even thought to ask her. All he knew from a letter she sent a while back, before Mum’s funeral, was that she was a hotel manager. “Right, I’ll show you around, give you a quick tour and find you a uniform.”

On their way down the narrow staff corridor they met a young man wearing chef whites, adjusting his hat. “Hi, Ruby,” he said.

“Oh, this is Brett,” Ruby said and smiled. Under his chef’s hat poked coal-black hair. He wore glasses and had a diamond stud earring in his left ear. “He works in the restaurant.”

Steve held out his hand and smiled. “Hello.”

“This is my brother…Stuart,” Ruby said, after a deep breath.

The young man, probably of similar age to Ruby, took Steve’s hand. He had a firm handshake, which surprised Steve, because Brett was slim built. Maybe the chef whites masked his true appearance.

“Hi, I’m the sous chef.”

“Nice to meet you, Sue,” Steve said, and winked, internally cringing – the joke had come out all wrong. He’d sounded American then. Need to concentrate on the accent.

Luckily Brett laughed. “So what you doing here? Ruby has never mentioned a brother.”

“She’s giving me a job until I find my feet,” Steve said the first thing that entered his head. Act. Remember to act.

“Right, well there’s lots to see, talk later, Brett,” Ruby said quickly, grabbing Steve’s arm.

Steve waved a friendly goodbye to Brett, who watched Ruby with a happy expression, then nodded at Steve.

Phew, one down, the rest of the staff to go. Maybe he could do this.

Entering a staff area full of lockers, Ruby rummaged through a cupboard. She handed Steve some clothes and pointed to where he could change, providing him with his own locker key.

“The rule is to get changed here,” Ruby said. “Not to wear the clothes out of the hotel.”

“Why’s that?”

“So that you don’t go down the pub wearing your uniform, and get drunk and give the company a bad name.” Ruby smiled. “Leave your belongings in the locker too. You’re not allowed a mobile phone or any money on you.” Steve nodded. “Meet me back in my office when you’re changed.”

Steve fixed his tie and pulled on the three-quarter length jacket over his waistcoat. There was a lot to be said for tailor-made suits – and he wanted his back, now. The grey uniform trousers with their starched crease down the front were a little short in the leg, especially when sitting, and the shirt, like his burgundy polyester jacket, fitted across his broad shoulders snug but was too big in the waist. This added to the dork factor, supposedly, but he was pretty sure Clark Kent’s clothes had fitted him.

Once he was as happy as he could be with his appearance, he found Ruby’s office.

“Right, I’ll show you around the hotel, introduce you to some of the staff and then leave you at the bar. I have a hotel to manage. I’ll try to make your shifts tally with mine, otherwise I’ll have to drop you in or something, if you have to come in when I’m not working.” She chewed her lip.

“Roo, don’t worry about it, I’ll go with the flow. You’re doing me a huge favour.”

“Okay, let’s do this. Gosh why do I feel nervous?”

“I don’t know, you’re not the one pretending to be Clark Kent.”

“Stuart, Stuart, Stuart,” Ruby mumbled as she left her office.

***

Steve was going to look at all this as experience. Research. You never know when something like this might be needed for acting. He followed Ruby out of her office, his heart beating faster with nerves, his palms sweating. His polyester-cotton mix shirt was making him hot and uncomfortable. He pushed the glasses up. The damn things were hurting behind his left ear and across the bridge of his nose. Did he risk returning to get them adjusted? He needed them to be comfortable as he couldn’t risk not wearing them.

How hard could the work be? It had to be pretty straightforward and he’d do the job adequately. He did worry he’d let Ruby down. All his life he’d acted, though admittedly, he’d done every job imaginable before the acting had taken off. He’d done those successfully, too. Dredging through his memory, he’d done all sorts from waiting tables, serving drinks to working for a pizza delivery company. All in between bit part acting and gigs. Where did fifteen years go when you looked back on them?

“Okay, you’re predominantly going to work in the bar area. You’ll need to learn how to work the coffee machine too, I’ll get Callum to show you.” Ruby spoke as she walked and Steve nodded, running a finger around his collar. “And at quiet periods you may need to man the reception desk. We’re a small hotel, so we have to muck in where we can. You’ll have to work otherwise the others will complain, you understand?”

“Yes, boss.”

She scowled at him.

“Stuart Fisher,” Ruby said, more to herself than Steve as they headed towards the reception desk.

“Stuart Fisher.” He nodded and placed an arm on her shoulder. “Relax, Roo, it will be fine.”

“Yeah, why am I the nervous one here? Just remember to act nerdy, you know, like Clark.”

“Yeah, yeah, but I don’t want to be too clumsy…”

Lois hadn’t fancied Clark – not initially.

“Yes, but too confident and they may see through the disguise. And work on your accent.” Her eyes narrowed. “Right, I need to find Alice,” she mumbled.

They almost bumped into a skinny lad with mild acne as he walked out of the lift.

“Ah, Callum, I want you to meet Stuart,” Ruby said, as Steve held out his hand. As Callum returned the handshake, tucking the tray he carried under his other arm, he wore a puzzled expression, as though he’d done nothing so formal in his life. “He’s going to be working with you behind the bar.”

“Hi, Stuart.” Callum looked from Steve to Ruby.

“He’s my older brother,” she said.

“Yeah, Ruby’s helping me out. I need a job for a while.” Steve tried very hard to lose his American accent but at the same time not sound like Benedict Cumberbatch. He remembered Ruby’s advice, and his memories of the old Superman movie, trying to mimic Clark, to make his gestures jittery. Clark never stood as tall and straight as Superman.

Steve was naturally confident from years of girls falling at his feet, so now he needed to look less secure about himself – especially standing in front of a guy barely out of his teens.

“Ruby never said she had a brother.” Callum frowned.

“Well, I’ve been away, um, travelling for a while,” Steve said, not really sure where it had come from. Stupidly, they’d never managed to get around to making up a back-story. Maybe they should have thought harder about a past for him.

“Yeah, and he didn’t leave on a good note so I didn’t like talking about him,” Ruby added, “but we’re over that now. We’ve cleared the air.”

“Oh, right,” Callum said, scratching his head. “Nice to meet you, Stu.” Steve frowned. “Oh, you don’t like Stu?” Callum grinned wickedly.

“No, no, Stu’s fine.” Steve rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled. He’d have to get used to ‘Stu’ from now on.

“Well, you’re Stu now,” Callum said, laughing. The two men joked for a bit, the nervous atmosphere ebbing away, and Steve was able to relax. He wasn’t looking at him as if he was a Hollywood film star. Phew!

“I’m going to introduce Stuart” – Ruby almost said Steve, but he was the only one to notice – “to some more staff then I’ll bring him over to the bar.”

“Yes, boss.” Callum saluted, then turned on his heel and marched away. Ruby rolled her eyes as Steve smirked at Callum’s cheek. Steve had said the same thing and clearly Ruby didn’t like it.

“Firstly, I need to see Alice about some order issues she raised yesterday, so you can come with me,” Ruby said, patting Steve’s arm for attention.

Ruby led Steve along a corridor and through some double doors with a sign above them reading “Tranquillity Relaxation Centre”. Instantly a lemony and floral fragrance hit him. The interior had changed from the hotel’s rich colours, to soothing natural pastels, as if he’d walked into another world. The reception desk had a huge vase full of fresh flowers in yellows and whites. To the right of the desk there was a cream leather couch for guests to wait. A glass coffee table sat in front of it, with a neat pile of glossy magazines. Steve gulped. He hoped he wasn’t inside one of them.

Being early, the place was deserted, including the reception desk.

“Where is she?” Ruby said, impatience lacing her words as she drummed her fingers against the desk.

“I’m here! Just made myself a coffee,” called a woman Steve could only assume was Alice. “Though don’t tell the guests, because to them I only recommend herbal teas.”

Now Alice was Steve’s type of girl. She strode across the wooden floor, and arrived in front of Steve with a steaming mug of coffee in one perfectly French manicured hand. She had chestnut hair, clipped up, with loose tendrils framing her attractive face. As she approached Steve, she smiled a million dollar Hollywood smile.

“Hello,” Alice said, fluttering her long black eyelashes. Big, chocolate eyes looked him over. Her dark eyes were enhanced by black eye-liner and thick mascara lashes, and her pouty lips were glossy. The spa uniform accentuated her figure perfectly – beige trousers and a matching lotus tunic with a mandarin collar. Even though the tunic wasn’t revealing Steve could still appreciate the swell of her breasts.

Hello, Alice!

The woman had curves, and knew how to show them off.

She wasn’t wearing a wedding or engagement ring. Result!

“This is Stuart.” Ruby nudged him, and then looked at Alice sternly, reminding her that Ruby was the boss. Alice kept her eyes on Steve, the corner of her mouth twitched. She really wasn’t listening to Ruby.

“Hi, I’m the new boy.” Steve returned with his own million dollar smile, and then remembering Clark Kent, albeit probably too late, slung his hands into his pockets as if nervous.

“He’s my brother, and will be working here for a while. I’m just showing him around. I’ve come to discuss those orders with you.”

“Oh, yes.” Alice led Ruby over to the reception desk, leaving Steve to mull around in the spa.

Would Alice recognise him? She had a stack of glossy magazines on the coffee table after all. In her line of business she would be up on fashion and looks. She was the type of woman to take care of her appearance. The type of woman to follow what celebrities were up to.

Just deny everything. You’re Stuart Fisher. You’ve been travelling for the past few years and now you’re home. Or something like that.

Really should have worked on a back-story.

He’d iron out the details at home, later.

Steve nosed around, finding the pool and gym, then waited patiently for Ruby to finish up with Alice.

“Right, let’s take you to reception,” Ruby said. Steve shared a worried new-boy expression with Alice.

“Don’t worry, Stuart, we’ll look after you,” Alice said, almost in a purr. “You’re in safe hands. You should enjoy working here.” Steve swallowed. He imagined Alice’s hands were far from safe. He glimpsed a brief scowl from Ruby, a hint that she didn’t approve of Alice, but he couldn’t see why. She was friendly, bubbly and confident. And beautiful.

Heady from the spa’s heavy scents and perfumes – or was it Alice’s effect on him? – Steve walked in step with Ruby back to the main part of the hotel, leaving Alice in her relaxation centre.

“Can staff use the pool, Roo? And the gym?” Steve hoped so, it would be one way of keeping up his fitness. He couldn’t shuck all his responsibilities as a Hollywood hunk.

“Yes they can, but only when they’re off duty.” Ruby said. “However, I’m not sure if it’s wise for you to be in there.”

“I’ll make sure I wear really unattractive sweat-pants.”

“Whilst swimming?” Ruby raised her eyebrows.

He smirked. “You know what I mean. However, I’m not taking this nerd look to the point of wearing Speedos.”

“I so hope not!”

In the main part of the hotel, they headed towards a young woman, smartly dressed in similar uniform to Steve; burgundy jacket, and cream blouse with a silk scarf around her neck. They waited at the reception desk for her to finish with a customer, before Ruby spoke, “Hi, Lydia, I want you to meet my brother, Stuart.” Steve smiled at Lydia, adjusting his glasses. “He’s joining our team.”

“Hello, Lydia.” Steve shook Lydia’s hand, more delicately than the way he’d grasped Callum’s. So she was the owner of the voice at the end of the phone the other day, and she turned out to be pretty and young, not old-enough-to-be-his-mother as he feared. He would enjoy working here.

Lydia frowned. The penny had obviously dropped for her too. “You said you’re name was Steve.”

“Ha, yes, I did,” – had he? God, he had – “well, I was worried you were going to ruin the surprise, so I made up a name…”

For a moment Lydia eyed him suspiciously, then nodded. “I wouldn’t have said anything.”

“I couldn’t be sure. And so by giving you the wrong name, if you had said anything it wouldn’t have rung true for Ruby.” Steve anxiously chuckled. Oh, God this was awkward. Luckily, the telephone started ringing – saved by the bell! – and so Lydia gave a delicate, apologetic smile, tucking strands of blonde hair behind her ear and answered it, talking into the microphone on her headset. She had layered, bobbed blonde hair. She was probably Ruby’s age. Steve noticed there were no rings on her left hand either. It had become a habit, checking out for wedding rings, as he’d been surprised at how many supposedly happily married women had thrown themselves at him as his fame increased.

“I know you’re predominantly going to work in the bar, but sometimes you will need to help out on the reception desk, so I’m going to leave you with Lydia for a bit first.”

Steve stopped studying Lydia – she was pretty – drawing his attention back to Ruby, and nodded.

“The fastest way to learn reception is when it’s busiest.”

The hotel was buzzing with more people around now. Everyone had woken up, had breakfast and were checking out, or getting on with their business.

Not for the first time that day did Steve feel the anxiety crawl up his back. How hard could it all be?

“Lydia, could you please show Stuart the ropes as occasionally he’ll need to help you out.” Ruby turned her attention to Steve, smiling. “And when you’re ready, Stuart, you can take a call, but Lydia will listen in and help you if you get stuck.”

Lydia nodded. “Don’t look so nervous, you’ll be fine.”

He took a deep breath. Man up, Steve, it’s a telephone, not a bomb.

“I’ll come get you later, to show you the bar,” Ruby said. Actually, was she smirking at him, enjoying this?

Lydia tapped him, to get his attention. “Listen and watch me. We have to man the phone and deal with customer requests face to face.” She adjusted her headset, the phone softly rang, and she answered the call. Steve listened carefully to her, the patient tone she took with the customer. Her voice could melt butter, warming and gentle. He noticed the pad in front of her where she’d scribble notes while listening, or occasionally doodle. Little cherub like faces. Happy, sad or mischievous. All incredibly cute. As she spoke, she flicked through the computer system to check hotel availability.

An hour flew quickly as he watched and listened to Lydia and helped her where he could.

“It’s time for my break, so let’s get a cuppa, then you can have a go answering the phone and dealing with the customers who come to the desk.”

“Oh, uh, okay.” Steve’s nerves were real. Why so much fear over a telephone? It’s not like the people at the other end could reach down and throttle him if he got things wrong. They certainly wouldn’t recognise him.

“This is Maxine, she also works on reception.”

“Hello,” Steve said, nodding friendly. Maxine was in her early fifties, with short brown hair. As she smiled the creases in her face deepened. She faintly smelled of cigarette smoke mingled with her perfume. He wouldn’t need to act too dorky around Maxine, but then would he? What was he thinking? He couldn’t let anyone realise who he was, not just the pretty women who were potential love interests. He had to stay on the ball and not let this act slip. He had to convince everyone. One word of who he really was and the game would be over. He’d be back in Hollywood before you could say shooting stars.

Lydia led Steve down the narrow staff corridor, although he was starting to learn his way around. He had a good sense of direction, and the hotel wasn’t huge.

“The staff room,” Lydia said, entering, the very small room. “I know it’s a bit of a joke.” It contained two tables with orange plastic chairs tucked underneath them and a vending machine. A fridge sat under the counter, while the basic kitchen appliances sat on top. Lydia continued, “This is where you come to take all your breaks. Do you want anything to eat?” Lydia asked, slotting coins into the vending machine and pressing the button to retrieve some biscuits.

“No, I’m all right thanks.”

“I’ll share my biscuits. Tea?”

“Yes please.”

Lydia showed him where the tea and coffee was, with an urn full of hot water. “If you want posher coffees, you have to pay for them.” She gestured to a machine where you could push buttons for cappuccinos, lattes etc. But they were powered milk variety and not the real thing in Steve’s opinion. Tea would be just fine.

“Sugar?”

Steve grinned. “No, I’m sweet enough as I am.”

Lydia giggled and he watched her cheeks redden as she concentrated on adding milk and removing the teabag, and not making eye contact with him.

Maybe he should lay off the flirting. It was only the first day. He was a natural charmer though, his mum had always said so. From about the age of three, he’d had old ladies eating out the palm of his hand. He only had to look at his teachers doe-eyed when he’d been cheeky and he’d get away with it. For now he’d turn down his charm-o-meter.

As they only had fifteen minutes, Lydia and Steve didn’t get to talk much. She’d run through the basic chit-chat when two people don’t really know one another and don’t know what to say. Steve had decided to let her talk, and listen. She’d only worked for the hotel a year. It wasn’t a career move, just a job to pay the bills and allow her to live. She lacked confidence, but it could have been an element of shyness, Steve decided, plus he was a stranger. Maybe he’d get her to open up more with time.

Lydia suddenly glanced up at the clock. “Oh, we better be getting back.”

They swallowed down the last of their drinks, and pushed the orange chairs with a scrape under the table. Lydia took both mugs and placed them on a rack with other dirty dishes.

Back behind the reception desk, Lydia handed Steve one of the two headsets. He grinned, realising he was still nervous. She giggled.

“It’s not that bad, honest,” she said.

He was actually going to do this. Actually answer the phone and deal with queries, and serve any customers who came to the desk. Was he having an early midlife crisis – or something worse? His life was in LA, making movies…

Think Clark Kent…trying to find Lois.

He felt more nervous than being butt naked in front of a film crew doing a love scene. This shirt was doing nothing for him. He felt hot and awkward. The heating in this hotel needed turning down. He wanted air. In fact, he could just bolt. He didn’t really need to do this job, he wasn’t even getting paid. He could go back to LA…His comfort zone.

He’d find someone eventually, amongst the gold diggers. Not.

Running away, because he had the money to do so, was not an option. He wasn’t a coward, he chided himself. If he wanted to find someone to love…and who loved him, he did need to try this. He had nothing to lose. If the press got wind, he could always say he was working undercover for research purposes. Anything. It would probably give his PA, Marie, the biggest headache of her life but he could get round it. He’d give her a pay rise.

He took a deep breath, and pulled up his sleeves. “I can do this.”

“You’ll be fine, and I’m here. If you get really stuck just say you’re handing over to a colleague and I’ll take over.” She squeezed his arm and when the phone started ringing his heart sped up. Taking another deep, calming breath, he answered it.




Chapter 6 (#ue7247201-776d-595b-9703-19c513a70a76)


Ruby put the phone down then glanced at her watch; quarter past ten. Steve had done a long enough stint on reception for one day. He could do some more tomorrow. She’d take him to the bar where she wanted him to work most of the time. She felt guilty really, making him work, but there was no way she could have him here doing nothing. She’d have all of her employees complaining, or worse, walking out.

“How was your morning?” Ruby said, leaning against the reception desk, watching Steve fill the printer with paper.

Steve nodded confidently. “Good. Didn’t make too many mistakes did I?” He nudged Lydia.

“Oh, no, you were fine,” Lydia said. Then her smile dropped. “There was just that one time…Sorry, Ruby, we might have a complaint coming in—”

“Shhhh…” Steve’s expression was mischievous, revealing the dimples in his cheeks, “I told you not to tell Ruby about it.”

“About what?” She frowned quizzically.

“Nothing…” Lydia giggled. “Don’t panic, he’s pulling your leg. He told me to say it. I’m a terrible liar.”

“I never!”

Ruby narrowed her eyes at her brother. He’d always teased her as a kid, and here he was winding her up again, getting Lydia to do it, too. Swine.

His flipping smile and sparkly eyes. Whether he was famous or not, they’d get people to do his bidding. I give him a job and this is how he repays me.

“Oh, Ruby,” Lydia reached under the desk and pulled a book out from under it, “here’s that book I said I’d lend you.”

Ruby took the hardback, admired the cover then tucked it under her arm. It was sweet of Lydia to remember the book. She’d only mentioned it in passing a couple of weeks ago. “Thanks. You’ll have to pop over sometime and take a book off my shelf.”

“There’s no need.”

“No I insist.” Ruby turned her attention to Steve, whose expression sobered. “There’s some time before lunch, let’s show you this bar. By the end of the day, I want you producing the best cappuccinos this side of Bristol.”

“See you later, Lydia,” Steve said, and joined Ruby in step as they headed towards the bar.

“How was it really?” Ruby asked, once out of the earshot of Lydia.

“Not bad. I was nervous the first time I picked up the phone.”

“Hopefully you won’t have to man reception too much, only quiet periods when the girls need to take their breaks etc.”

“It was fine, honestly. I’m clocking it up as research.” He chuckled. “And Lydia’s really nice.”

They walked into a room just behind reception. This was Ruby’s favourite area of the hotel, where they usually held their functions. Because the hotel originally was an old Georgian house, this room had a large fireplace. In the winter she always ensured the fire was lit day and night, providing a cosy refuge from the cold for her guests. Two large leather sofas, the colour of caramel, sat in front of the fire, with a low coffee table made of solid oak between them. These were the most popular seats in the room. Scattered around the bar were other comfortable sofas and armchairs, tucked around small tables. Soft music played in the background. It all came together to provide a relaxing atmosphere. At the back of the room was the bar area, where Callum stood wiping glasses and placing them on the back shelf. Ruby was relieved to see he was actually working.

“Callum, would you mind showing Stuart how to work the coffee machine, and where everything is in the bar. Show him how room service works and the general routines.” See, there, didn’t stumble over his name.

“Yes, boss.” Callum saluted and Ruby scowled.

“Callum, less of the cheek, please. You’ll be working with my brother a lot, so I need you to go through your job and what you do – sensibly.” She kept her expression stern, then she turned to Steve. “I’ll leave you here with Callum. I’ll come find you and we could have lunch together?”

“Yeah, Roo, that’ll be great.”

***

“Roo?”

“She’s my sister. You call her that and she’ll probably fry your balls,” Steve said firmly to Callum.

Callum held his hands up defensively. “But I’m okay to call you Stu, right?”

“If you must.” Steve wasn’t enthralled about the name Stu, but as it wasn’t actually his name, he’d let Callum off. Plus, he needed to make friends not enemies, and Callum was young and impressionable. Callum was trying to be ‘cool’, or so he thought.

In the time leading up to lunch, Callum had shown Steve the bar, what drinks they sold, how to work the till, where the cellar was for changing the barrels – they had a couple of beers available on tap. It was all stuff Steve knew through working in bars at Callum’s age. The guy had to be in his early twenties. His attitude sometimes was immature, but generally Callum was a good guy. Steve had probably been the same, though he’d had more confidence with his looks. He’d never been struck with acne like Callum, and being sporty meant he had filled out early on.

“All right, Stu, let me show you how this big boy works.” Callum patted the coffee machine and grinned.

Callum was scrawny, talked a lot about games on his PlayStation, and whenever a pretty girl entered the bar, whether hotel staff or a guest, he’d give Steve a nudge and wink. Again, Steve let Callum talk while he worked. The less Steve spoke the better, he thought, while he was getting used to his new role. This way he reduced the chance of giving something away.

“We get more room service orders in the evening, but sometimes during the day, guests want a posh coffee sent up.” Callum had to raise his voice over the noise as he frothed milk in a stainless steel jug. He wiped the nozzle, then gently tapped the jug on the counter to send the froth to the top. He poured the foamy thick milk into a cup of espresso, sprinkled it with chocolate and grinned. “A perfect cappuccino is one third coffee, one third milk and one third froth.”

“I know.” Steve drank enough coffee to know how he liked it.

“You do?”

“Yeah, I can’t live without coffee.”

“Oh, I can’t stand the stuff. Don’t like tea either.”

“So who’s this for?” Steve pointed the coffee. Callum found a tray under the counter and placed the cup on it.

“Room 106. Come on, I’ll show you.”

When they returned from delivering the coffee, Ruby was standing at the bar waiting.

“Hey,” she said, smiling at Steve. “Did you want to get lunch together?”

Steve’s stomach rumbled as if on cue. “Yeah, that would be good.”

“I’ll bring him back to you after lunch, Callum.”

Callum nodded as he went back behind the bar to serve an approaching customer.

Steve held the door open for Ruby to enter the small staff room. Unwrapping two food parcels, Ruby placed one in front of Steve. They had a mouth-watering club sandwich each, doorstop sizes with lashings of mayonnaise. Steve’s stomach gurgled with hunger.

“Where’d you get these?” Steve asked, bringing the thick granary bread to his lips.

“Brett makes me up a lunch,” Ruby replied nonchalantly.

“Hmmm…” He nodded and swallowed. It tasted good. “Does he now?” He raised his eyebrows.

“It’s not like that.” Ruby dabbed her lips with a napkin which had also been provided. “He offers, and I can’t say no. He only does it because I’m his boss.”

“If you say so.” He’d noticed how Brett had looked at Ruby earlier, even if she hadn’t.

“So how’s your morning been?” Ruby asked, deliberately changing the subject, Steve thought.

“Not as scary as I thought.”

“Good, I just hope your cover doesn’t get blown.”

“Relax, Ruby, I’m feeling confident about this.” For good measure, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, which he’d almost forgotten he’d been wearing. “I even broke a glass to appear clumsy.”

“Don’t break too many!” Ruby stared, horrified. “Or I’ll have to fire you.”

***

“Ready, Bro?” Ruby arrived at the bar, coat over her arm.

Steve nodded, wiping a glass and placing it on the shelf behind him.

At times, she found it easier to stick to calling him Bro rather than Stuart. Butterflies fluttered inside her stomach every time she thought about this little lie, and whether she’d let his true name slip. So far, Steve had managed a whole day in the hotel and everyone he’d worked with or spoken to seem satisfied. To her relief, no rumour floated around saying ‘Steve Mason is in the building.’ She realised, with a pang, she didn’t want him to leave. Not yet, and if his identity was revealed he’d have to. This game had to work. For her sake, she thought selfishly, as much as Steve’s.

She was the least worried about Callum – he wouldn’t know a celebrity if they whacked him in the face with a script. Lydia was fairly quiet, kept herself to herself – that’s why she’d chosen her to train Steve on reception duties. Only someone like Alice could be the real problem. Even with Steve’s disguise, he was still a handsome man.

Disguise? Was she kidding herself by giving Steve a boyish haircut and a pair of glasses? It had worked for Superman, but that was fiction. Comic or film. It wasn’t real.

Callum and Brett, and the rest of the hotel staff did not call Alice ‘Man Eater’ behind her back for nothing.

Dear God, that woman practically had a new conquest every weekend – or at least it felt like it the way Alice would talk of who’d taken her out to dinner. She was always dating – compared to Ruby who was never out. Ruby didn’t know where Alice found the time, considering she worked as a beautician privately too. She had a lot of private clients she tended to on her days off and evenings.

She was the female version of Steve. She had assets and knew how to use them. Would Steve fall for Alice’s charm? Alice was nice enough – in small doses – but she didn’t seem as though she was ready to settle down – yet. Which was what Steve wanted, wasn’t it? He could pick up a party girl in LA. Alice would look good on his arm though. A handsome couple.

What if Steve fell for the wrong woman, and had his heart broken all over again? Was this a good idea?

He’s a grown man, Ruby. He’ll be fine.

“Yeah, now I’m ready,” Steve hung up the towel and walked round the bar to greet Ruby, giving her a big bear hug.

“Hey, not at work.” She blushed. “The staff will be walking all over me.”

They separated at the locker rooms; Steve heading into the men’s. When he came out, he was changed into his normal clothes, shrugging on his coat. Callum and Brett walked out with him.

“Hey, shouldn’t we go down the pub for a pint, to celebrate Stu’s first day?” Callum said.

“Yeah.” Brett nodded, glancing at Ruby.

“Oh, it’s up to Stuart, he hasn’t got a car.” Ruby flustered, then turned to Steve “I can pick you up later, though – if you want to go.”

“You can come, too,” Brett said, hesitantly, removing his glasses and smiling nervously. Ruby noticed Callum’s groan. They didn’t usually include ‘the boss’ in the pub invitation. “You’re part of the team, too.”

“Oh, I don’t know.”

“Ruby, come on, we could do with winding down. Let me get to know these guys a little better,” Steve said, trying that twinkle with his eyes lark again. “You’re coming, too. Lydia?”

Lydia and Alice had come out of the ladies’ changing room.

“Okay, yes, I can come for one drink.”

“Alice?”

Alice already had her lipstick reapplied. “You didn’t even need to ask, gorgeous.”

Ruby buried her anxiety. Don’t panic. Alice called everyone gorgeous – except for Callum.

***

Steve bought the first round in the busy pub, full with after-work drinkers. Ruby had muttered in his ear, “Don’t flash your money around.”

He had to remember not to try too hard to fit in.

And not to drink too much, too.

The British were alcoholics compared to the Americans, and Steve had steered clear of too much drinking behind the scenes of the film industry, where it was laid on after a long shooting session. He’d witnessed first-hand the mess it had got some younger actors into. And older ones. Steve had kept clean and sober, not wanting to be in rehab before he was thirty. Luckily, he was the sort of guy who enjoyed life, and didn’t need to get drunk or stoned to have a good time. Maybe that came from confidence. He could socialise with anyone, laugh at anecdotes, and had learned to bite his tongue to those he didn’t quite gel with, walking away at the first opportunity, and not looking back.

Steve hadn’t set foot in a proper English pub in years. While savouring his ale he observed his new friends.

His first day – without wanting to jinx things – had so far gone without a hitch. Callum and Brett were a duo, though Callum was more the clown than Brett. In fact, Brett had gone quiet, Steve noticed, and he looked at Ruby a lot.

Alice remained close to Steve, and he’d get wafts of her floral perfume occasionally, which wasn’t overpowering. He’d be quite happy to breathe it in all day.

He listened to them all chat, getting to know them a little better, telling him their tales of work. Their best and worst guests. Callum and Alice were the real talkers of the group.

Ruby sloped off to the bathroom, and Callum nudged Steve, almost spilling his pint.





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