fangirl 01 - an unconventional meeting Page 3

  ‘Like would certainly be too strong a word,’ Marc said to his co-star as he moved to the drinks machine to grab a coffee. He stirred his drink, internally seething that the others seemed to know about his contractual attendance, while he’d been completely in the dark.

  ‘I’m guessing they forced you into this one, then?’ Bethany “BB” Beckham asked as she stood alongside him, pouring her own frothy drink. ‘No way out?’

  ‘Not this year,’ he sighed before taking a deep drink of the hot liquid. ‘Didn’t even know it was in there until yesterday when Sonya’—he motioned towards his agent who was deep in conversation with Crystal, the organiser and hostess—‘came crashing into my home.’

  ‘Ouch,’ BB winced. ‘Sneaky bastards.’

  ‘No, Unca Luc! This way!’ Tyler’s shout from across the room caught both their attention; they laughed as they watched the boy, who’d climbed on the star’s shoulders, tug on his uncle’s hair, trying to direct him the right way just as he would his pony. They laughed harder as Luc neighed and shook his head, causing Tyler to wobble and shriek.

  ‘Marc,’ Sonya called as she stepped across the room, a stunning young redhead at her side. His gaze roved over the unfamiliar woman, who smiled seductively. She was dressed immaculately; her skirt was just long enough to be deemed professional, while her stiletto heels allowed every man in the room to picture them up by their ears as they fucked her good and proper after they’d pulled out that perfectly-pinned French twist. Marc turned his nose up at her; she’d purposefully presented herself to be a wet dream, something Marc vehemently hated.

  ‘Marc,’ Sonya said carefully, calling his glaring gaze back from the woman’s high heeled shoes and focusing him on the conversation. ‘I said this is Ashley; the Studio’s sent her down to take care of Tyler for the weekend. She’s—’

  ‘Do you have children, Ashley?’ Marc interrupted what he was sure was to be a long list of professional credentials.

  ‘I have two nephews.’

  ‘You take care of them often?’

  ‘Well, no. My sister lives in Idaho and I haven’t actually met the—’

  ‘No.’ Marc turned back to Sonya. ‘No fucking way. They can’t be serious!’

  The whole room turned quiet at Marc’s exclamation. Luc pulled Tyler off his shoulders and bundled him up in his arms; he spun him around, taking him off towards the other side of the room so he didn’t see his father getting upset. The other stars and their assistants fell deathly silent, all eyes on the explosion about to detonate.

  ‘Marc, just listen—’

  ‘No, Sonya. This is ridiculous! They know about Tyler, about his hearing, and yet they send some young upstart—’

  ‘Hey!’

  ‘—who isn’t even dressed appropriately, to look after a child; what do you think you’ll be doing with him? Filing his tax returns?’

  ‘Mr. Matthews, if you’ll just let me—’

  ‘Save it, Red.’ Marc jabbed his finger at the woman. ‘I am not interested. You are not looking after my son. I don’t care who you’re sleeping with at the network, it isn’t going to—’

  ‘Marc!’ Sonya shouted. Outrage and embarrassment at her client’s comment flushed her face deep red. ‘Ashley is going to take care of Tyler this weekend, she’ll have someone with her at all times—security, I mean, that’s why we wanted three men. She reminded him about Frank and the two looming bodyguards at the doorway. ‘She will also have my number and will she call me any moment she’s unsure or has even a tiny issue—won’t you, Ashley?’

  ‘Of course, Ms. Adams,’ the girl agreed as she pulled out her phone. ‘I’ll put you on my speed dial right away.’

  ‘Which she obviously won’t need as security will be with her the whole time.’

  Marc glared at the pair before he turned to check on Tyler. He spied his son sitting quietly at the far end of the room with Luc, who was trying to sign a story to him. As Marc approached, Tyler jumped to his feet before launching himself at his papa; his small arms wrapped tightly around Marc’s knee as he burrowed his head against the older man’s denim-clad thigh. It wasn’t fair that his son was being made to suffer his absence once again. He refused to do this any longer.

  Marc petted Tyler’s hair as he finally, one hundred percent, made up his mind.

  ‘Get them on the phone now,’ he growled through clenched teeth as he tried to keep his temper down in front of his son. ‘I want out. No write-backs, no ret-conning later. Completely out, and before the season end. As soon as they can.’

  A chorus of no and please, Marc! followed.

  ‘Marc,’ Luc sighed. The pair had known each other a long time, far longer than the show had been on the air. The younger actor stood, placed a hand on Marc’s shoulder and squeezed lightly. ‘Don’t make a rash decision. Don’t break your contract—it won’t look good for the future.’

  ‘Luc, I don’t need to work,’ he stated. ‘I need to be with my son.’ His friend bit his lip to hold back his words as Marc turned to the other stars, who sat wide-eyed at their co-star’s sudden choice. ‘And it’s not rash,’ he continued as he crouched down and gently untangled his son from his leg. He pulled Tyler into a proper, comforting hug, and stroked his son’s hair as Tyler buried his face in his father’s neck. ‘I was thinking about it all last season—I’m missing his childhood and I don’t need to.

  ‘Tyler,’ Marc pulled his son out of the hug and sat down, the small boy on his lap so that he could sign for him. ‘This lady—’

  ‘Ashley,’ the woman called out to them from a few steps away; she stood looking curiously at Marc’s hand signs to the small boy.

  ‘Ashley,’—Marc spoke through gritted teeth—‘is going to be looking after you this weekend. You’ll have your own special room and—’

  ‘Where’s Jamie?’ Tyler whispered as he looked over at Ashley with trepidation in his eyes. ‘I want Jamie, not the lady.’

  Marc sighed.

  This was not going to be easy.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  ‘Viva Las Vegas!’ Marie threw her arms wide as they stepped out of the airport, into the hot sunshine of Nevada. ‘O.M.G! Sunshine! Real sunshine. No rain, not a drop in sight, Ellie!’

  ‘Marie,’ Ellie sounded fondly exasperated at her friend. ‘You speak seven languages; can you actually say oh, my God in any of them?’

  ‘Oh, mon Dieu!’ Marie sighed, as she placed her large Gucci glasses on her face and fluffed her platinum locks. ‘Dio mio!’

  ‘Ach, mein Gott,’ Ellie groaned and rolled her eyes at her friend as she kicked at Marie’s discarded luggage to indicate they needed to get going. ‘Just use the words, Marie.’

  Ellie looked around, a frown on her face. She’d expected Mallory to be waiting at the Arrivals gate, but their American friend hadn’t shown and there were no messages from her on either of their phones. The airport was as busy as always; cars, buses, and limousines weaved across the lanes, stopping and starting, collecting passengers and their luggage; it was a dance of red and amber lights and a chorus of horns, brakes and angry shouts making for the spectacle in front of the girls.

  ‘Guess we should hail a cab, then.’ Marie shrugged, following Ellie’s gaze up and down the Arrivals pick-up zone, as she fanned herself with a magazine. ‘Preferably one with air-con.’

  The pair had started walking towards the taxi-rank when they heard their names being called from behind. Turning, they saw the bouncy gait of their long-time friend, Mallory, careening towards them.

  ‘Girls,’ the dark-haired bundle of energy shouted as she tumbled into them, throwing her arms around the pair. They exchanged greetings, smiles and kisses as the trio was reunited after a year apart.

  ‘I’ve missed you,’ Ellie said as she signed her words. She smiled fondly as Mallory returned the sentiment.

  The women hadn’t seen each other since the previous Desti-Nation convention, the year before. Ellie missed Mallory a great deal; the pair had met when the American had ju
st turned nineteen and was recovering from a car accident that had left her without hearing. Mallory was Ellie’s first client and the two became fast friends as the American slowly learnt the new language that would allow her to continue her education and give her a way to communicate for the rest of her life.

  Mallory was the reason for Ellie, and subsequently, Marie, to start watching Destiny. She’d helped them, as she described, to find their inner geek! Ellie’s time with Mallory had been eye-opening to a world beyond her study books and workload.

  This way, Mallory signed. Trent has a car for—

  ‘Wait a freaking minute!’ Marie squealed, stopping Mallory’s hands mid-sign as she grabbed the girl’s left one. ‘What is this?’ One of the biggest engagement rings either of the Brits had ever seen adorned Mallory’s delicate ring finger—that diamond had to be at least four carats.

  Mallory extracted her hand gently and signed: I was going to tell you later, as her cheeks flushed red at being caught. I was running late and forgot to take it off.

  ‘Trent proposed? When?’ Marie demanded, but Mallory was looking at Ellie who seemed floored at the news. Mallory had made out she was just taking it as it came. Clearly, it had become very serious, very quickly. Ellie bit her lip as she gazed at the large rock on Mallory’s hand.

  He’s not Andrew, Mallory told her.

  Ellie swallowed at the mention of her ex-husband. She’d been seventeen when they’d met and she’d thought herself in love. At eighteen, she’d sneaked off and married him against her mother’s wishes and regretted the decision ever since. He’d been much older, much like Trent Dryer was to Mallory, but Ellie had seen him as mature and experienced. She’d expected to see the world at his side before they settled down together in a home fit for their future family. But her life was far from what she had thought it would be.

  It was over a year later when her dying grandfather had made her see sense, that she’d left Andrew. She hadn’t regretted that decision, but the experience with her ex-husband had left a scar on her heart.

  Mallory was a lot older than Ellie had been and, unlike her, Mallory had a lot of worldly experience under her belt. But Trent was nearing forty and a well-known lawyer; that man could talk anyone around his little finger and did so regularly, having never lost a single case since he’d joined Corbi & Sanderson fourteen years ago. There were rumours it would soon have the name Dryer attached.

  Are you sure? Ellie signed.

  Mallory bit her lip, but nodded, holding Ellie’s gaze. ‘Yes,’ she spoke slowly, ensuring her words were clear. ‘I love him and’—she paused for a second—‘I trust him.’

  ‘Then, congratulations.’ Ellie opened her arms and Mallory quickly hugged her back, whispering thank you.

  ‘Aw, you guys!’ Marie laughed as she quickly wrapped her arms around them and hugged them both.

  Well, I suppose I should tell you now, Mallory signed as the girls pulled apart. As this will probably be my last Desti-Nation too, Trent bumped us all to VIP. We have front row seats, all the Meet and Greets and a badge that gets you to the front of any queue! No more waiting for autographs or photos!

  The two translators looked at their friend with wide eyes, neither able to speak for a moment.

  Mallory, those cost thousands!

  ‘Just say thank you,’ Marie chided Ellie. The brunette looked abashed and gave her thanks. ‘Good! Now let’s get to the hotel. We’ve got hot TV stars to spot!’

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Mallory left her friends to check in, weaving her way to the bar to see if she could spot any of the stars as they arrived. While Marie sorted out their arrival, Ellie took in the lobby before her. It was clearly full of convention attendees; costumes poked out from bags, bulges of sweet packets and fast food hung from people’s pockets, squeals of delight from friends holding mini-reunions could be heard all around. And there was Casey ‘Malphas’ McManaman walking through the lobby with his handler. Ellie nudged Marie and nodded towards the actor who played one of Destiny’s demons.

  Marie mouthed O.M.G back, causing Ellie to smile indulgently at her friend before she turned back towards the mayhem of the lobby.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re doing,’ an irate voice sounded around the corner from the reception. ‘All this hand-waving doesn’t mean anything! Now stay there and do not run off again!’

  Ellie frowned and leant around the corner to see a woman, dressed in an immaculate suit, hair pinned in an elegant style, looming over someone Ellie couldn’t see. The woman’s neck was as red as her hair with frustration and her shoulders were rigid with tension. Ellie got a horrible feeling something wasn’t right.

  ‘Back in a second, Marie,’ she told her friend absently, not taking her eyes from the redhead to check if the other girl had heard her, as she stepped towards the scene.

  ‘You’re four years old, you should be speaking by now!’

  Ellie stepped up to the pair and saw a young dark-haired boy staring up at the woman, tears swimming in his bright blue eyes; his face was red with his own frustration. He made to move his hands again, but the woman, in what had to be misunderstanding and irritation, grabbed hold of his arms.

  ‘Stop it!’ she said as she started to shake him.

  ‘Hey!’ Ellie called out. Something inside her screamed that this woman was not the boy’s mother. At Ellie’s cry, the woman’s hands flew off the child’s arms and she turned quickly to see Ellie stamping toward her, steel-blue eyes glaring at guilty brown ones. ‘Get your hands off him.’

  ‘This has nothing to do with you,’ the woman informed her quickly, dismissing her with a wave of her hand.

  ‘I beg to differ,’ Ellie snapped, before dropping to her knees a few feet from the scared child. He had stepped away from the woman and was now half hidden behind a potted plant and pillar.

  ‘You okay, sunshine?’ she asked, carefully. She watched the boy’s eyes drop to her lips as she spoke, his head tilted slightly to one side.

  ‘I don’t know, or care, who you are, but go away or I will call security,’ the angry woman told her as she poked Ellie in the shoulder.

  ‘Go for it,’ Ellie said as she slapped the woman’s hand away without turning from the child in front of her. ‘What’s your name, sweetie?’

  The boy shook his head at her, but, again, his eyes stayed trained on her lips. Ellie had a sinking feeling in her stomach, as the other woman fished her phone out of her bag. How on earth could this woman be in charge of this child and not know?

  ‘English or American?’ she asked as the woman searched for a number.

  ‘What are—’

  ‘English or American?’ Ellie snarled, praying it wasn’t American.

  ‘American.’

  ‘Damn.’

  Screwing her eyes shut, Ellie paused for a moment, as she tried desperately to recall the American version of Sign she’d been trained in years ago but had never kept up with. Definitely, something to add to her to-do list when she got back home.

  Are you okay? Ellie asked the young boy, hoping it was correct, and verbally repeated the question. The boy’s eyes widened in surprise before he shook his head, his lips pouting as his gaze shot up to the woman who was now yelling into her phone for someone called Frank.

  When his eyes returned to her, she checked, ‘Do you know this woman?’ Fear that he’d been kidnapped and they were all about to appear on that night’s news made her heart race.

  She swallowed when his answer gave no comfort. No. Papa doesn’t like her.

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Don’t you dare tell her anything!’ the woman hissed, pointing and glaring at the boy as someone called to her on the phone. ‘I told you some British woman is—’

  ‘Tyler,’ the boy finally spoke quietly. He moved around the plant towards Ellie, who beamed at him, amused at his defiant streak. He carefully spelt out his name with his hands and then smiled shyly at Ellie as he shared his personal name sign. Ellie returned her own.
r />   So, you can speak?

  The boy silently confirmed he could, but didn’t want to in front of the mean lady. I don’t speak well, he added, looking glum.

  That’s okay, you’ll get there.

  That’s what Papa says, but I have to speak more to do it.

  He’s right, practice makes perfect!

  People are mean when I speak.

  ‘Frank! Over here!’ Ellie heard the woman call out.

  People are stupid, Ellie confided in the child; he finally approached her, giggling at the comment. Why are you with the stupid woman?

  Papa said I have to stay with her. But I want Papa.

  Where is he? Tyler shrugged at her question, his lip pouting again as he gazed up at Ellie through his lashes and long messy fringe.

  ‘Excuse me, Ma’am.’ It was the deep, New York accent that made Ellie turn to look over her shoulder—her gaze travelled up, and up, and up. ‘I need you to step away from the boy,’ the giant of a man told her. She blinked as she took in his broad frame.

  Shit. How quick would security be if she screamed?

  But as she opened her mouth, Tyler squealed, ‘Frank!’ and darted around Ellie’s still squatting frame to throw himself at the giant.

  ‘You all right, Tyke?’ Frank asked gruffly as he scooped up the—suddenly happier—boy. ‘You causing mischief?’ He tickled the boy’s belly with a giant finger which caused Tyler to squeal in delight and squirm in his arms, as he tried to climb over the man’s shoulder. Frank merely laughed at his antics and tried to settle him back in his arms securely.

  Ellie cleared her throat as she stood up to her full five-foot-seven inches.

  ‘Ma’am,’ Frank nodded to her, ‘I don’t know what’s gone on, but you need to—’

  ‘Tyler,’ Ellie used the boy’s name sign and marvelled at how steady her hands appeared, despite her heart hammering in her chest as the man called Frank towered over her. His brow rose at the movement of her hands and fell silent as she asked, Do you know this man?