fangirl 01 - an unconventional meeting Page 7

  And why did no one know this about him? A celebrity fluent in a silent language would do wonders for the promotion of sign languages throughout the world. He should flaunt this, advocate it, help the world to become a more inclusive environment.

  ‘Get her out of here,’ he finally snapped at the supervisor, his eyes never leaving Ellie’s. ‘I want her gone from this event or I’ll be leaving instead.’

  A huge gasp rose throughout the audience followed by outcries of no! don’t leave!, and get rid of her!

  Ellie’s heart pounded in her chest. This was insane. This couldn’t be happening.

  ‘Ma’am I’m going to have to ask you to leave.’

  ‘What? No!’ Ellie protested, turning back to the supervisor as Marc turned on his heel and stormed off toward the curtain at the back of the stage. ‘We’ve paid for these tickets—I’m not leaving. I told you before this started, we’ve shown you our passes! Mallory would have sent all the credentials to you for this like she does every year!’

  Damn right I did. Trent’s secretary sorted it all. Ellie relayed the conversation back to the supervisor who looked between the three of them.

  ‘Look,’ she finally sighed, as if she was fed up with dealing with these kinds of situations. ‘He only said to get you to leave, he didn’t say anything about your friends. As far as I’m concerned, they’re fine to stay.’

  ‘You are not kicking Ellie out!’ Marie exclaimed, indignant. ‘Luc Truman saw us signing yesterday—we spoke to him! He’d vouch for us, I’m sure.’

  ‘I’ll check with him and ensure you’re okay to carry on signing in his next panel.’ She turned back to Ellie and leant in closer, to speak privately. ‘Look, the audience is on edge; that panel ended in disaster, so I don’t feel safe letting you stay here either way. I’m not revoking your ticket, I’m just asking, for your own safety, please remove yourself from the hall.’

  Ellie clenched her jaw as she looked at the audience before her. Some glared at her with anger, others looked about in confusion, obviously wondering what had kicked off Marc’s sudden anger. She understood their reaction. These people had paid a small fortune to attend the event and Marc was the biggest feature this year. Who the hell was she? A single fan. A dot in the sea of fandom.

  As she looked around she spotted a couple of people she’d spoken to at the event over the years, who knew she spoke the truth, but when she caught their gaze they hastily looked away.

  I’m leaving. I’ll meet you in the bar afterwards, she told her friends before she grabbed her bag and turned to the supervisor, who motioned for her to go ahead of her.

  Head held high, Ellie left the room.

  In her mind, she gave them all the finger.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The three women had been sitting quite happily at the bar until Luc’s panel had finished and the conference hall had emptied into it. Marie and Mallory had then gone off to get their scheduled photographs taken, but Ellie couldn’t take any more disdain, and declined to join them. She had a desperate need to lie down after the day she’d endured.

  Marc Matthews was a bastard. If her life in fandom wasn’t over by choice before this convention, it was certainly over after that fiasco.

  She jabbed the button for the express lift to take her to her floor and tried to ignore the stares and whispers of the other fans loitering in the lobby. At least they avoided her like the plague as she stood—waiting patiently—for the contraption to arrive, in the ageing hotel.

  The lift doors creaked open and stuttered slightly as she tried to step into the carriage. Usually, such behaviour would have given her a moment of hesitation, but with the day she’d had she stepped straight inside when the doors finally did squeak open. She pressed the button for level eighteen and fell against the back wall, closing her eyes to allow her mind to run over everything that had happened and where it had all gone wrong.

  It all came down to the front row seats. Why had Mallory upgraded them to those bloody seats? Their usual seats were always fine and if they’d been in those, none of that would have happened.

  At least the staff had been nice about it. They’d listened to her as she’d explained, but they had still asked her to leave the event for the rest of the day, causing them to miss Luc’s panel, which was always the best! The other two girls had left not long after she had, in protest, and Mallory had got straight on the phone to Trent, to get him to kick up a legal fuss.

  God bless lawyers!

  She sighed. No, she couldn’t blame Mallory; it was Marc’s fault.

  Bastard.

  If he’d just listened to reason, if he hadn’t stormed off after being so stupidly pig-headed—

  A squeal of delight and the shout of Tyler, no! jolted her from her thoughts as the doors began to squeak closed. Ellie raised her head. A blur of colour tumbled into the lift and knocked her back, cracking her head on the wall as the doors finally pinged shut.

  ‘What the hell!’ she exclaimed and rubbed the back of her head where it had connected with the wall.

  ‘That lady!’ she heard. She looked down at the bundle of warmth clutching her legs. Tyler, the child she’d met yesterday, had been the cannonball of colour. He grinned up at her with obvious delight to be seeing her again.

  She blinked as she took in the boy.

  Of. Fucking. Course.

  She closed her eyes and groaned. Why hadn’t she noticed it yesterday?

  Messy dark hair, bright blue eyes. He couldn’t be anyone else’s, could he?

  Tyler was Marc’s son.

  That was why the bastard had reacted the way he had at the panel. That was why half the fandom now knew her—and probably hated her—for the session ending before it had really begun. No doubt there was a picture of her and Marc screaming at each other that had already gone viral. She didn’t dare check her Twitter for the hashtag of the convention; it couldn’t be pretty. Ellie imagined hundreds of hateful comments being made about her, about how she’d ruined the first, and probably only, question and answer panel Marc would ever do. Never mind the fact she’d been interpreting for her hearing-impaired friend!

  With a deaf son, you’d think he’d understand! And how could he not know there were different signing languages around the world? Surely even an idiot would know that!

  Ellie could feel the anger welling up again.

  ‘You okay?’ Tyler’s unsure little voice pierced her thoughts, bringing her back to the situation at hand. She was in the express lift, whizzing up to the eighteenth floor with a TV star’s son.

  A star she had just pissed off.

  And a little boy who would be missed immediately.

  They were going to be looking for him!

  Her picture was probably already over the internet…

  Bollocks.

  She let out a strangled laugh and rubbed her eyes. How had this become her life? She had planned on slipping away from the fandom, of exiting it quietly, closing down her Tumblr and blogs, unfollowing a lot of feeds on her Twitter account and leaving her Facebook groups, all without fanfare or pomp. Instead, she was going to end up infamous for things completely not her fault.

  Ellie? Tyler used her name sign to get her attention.

  ‘Tyler,’ she groaned, as flashes of headlines about her arguing with Marc and then stealing his son flew through her mind. She rubbed the back of her head to soothe the pain where it had hit the wall. Where did you come from? she asked.

  Papa left me with—she didn’t recognise the name sign.

  Ashley? She spelt out with letters. He shook his head and spelt S-o-n-y-a.

  She works for Papa. She says lots of naughty words.

  Isn’t she nice?

  She’s okay—Tyler huffed as he motioned—but she can’t sign. Not like you and Papa. Only baby words. Why are your signs sometimes weird?

  Ellie sighed and rubbed her eyes again. She’d just wanted to lie down. Just wanted to try and hide from the bloodthirsty fans baying for her head. Tyler waved
at her again.

  Sorry, Tyler. She thought for a moment. Perhaps if she explained it to Tyler, he could explain it to his father when he saw him. Maybe that could save her being carted off in handcuffs.

  I’m from England, do you know where that is? Tyler nodded. Well, in England we use British Sign Language, not American, but I know some of your signs.

  He looked at her in confusion for a moment, his little brow scrunched up as he tried to make sense of her words and Ellie wondered if he actually understood he spoke two different languages.

  It’s different? he finally answered. They’ve got different signs in England?

  There are some signs the same, but there’s a lot that isn’t. I learnt yours a long time ago—I’m still trying to remember it, sorry.

  ‘Oh,’ was Tyler’s simple response. Nothing like his father’s reaction. Clearly, the boy hadn’t inherited Marc’s utterly infuriating disposition.

  Why did you leave Sonya? Ellie asked. You’re going to get me into trouble with your dad.

  Papa left me again. The boy pouted. We were supposed to go to the park yesterday, but we came here so he could work. We never do fun stuff because of his stupid job. And I don’t even get Jamie anymore. Ellie didn’t recognise the name sign and got him to spell it out. She was about to respond when the lift pinged nine and lurched to a stop. The express lift wasn’t supposed to stop until it reached twelve. That only meant one thing…

  ‘You have got to be fucking kidding me!’ she exclaimed. She slapped her hand over her mouth and felt her face go bright red. Even though Tyler couldn’t hear, she had to watch her mouth; he was learning to lip read, after all. It would be just her luck for him to repeat it in Marc’s presence and for the actor to have yet another reason to be pissed at her.

  Why has the lift stopped? Tyler asked.

  I don’t know. It’s broken?

  Does that mean we’re stuck here for the night? The broad grin on his face told Ellie right away that he wasn’t at all fazed by the possibility. Is this like a sleepover? I’ve never been to a sleepover before. Daniel in school had one but he wouldn’t let me go.

  Why not?

  He said I was deaf and I wouldn’t be able to watch films or play games, so he said I couldn’t come and then pushed me over. The boy shrugged as if being pushed over and told he couldn’t do something was part of everyday life. Her heart melted at the thought of this adorable little boy being pushed around a playground, being cornered in a classroom as names were shouted at him, and other kids reached for his processor…

  She crouched down and pulled him into a brief hug before asking; Did you tell your dad about this?

  The boy shook his head. Papa is away a lot.

  Ellie ground her teeth together and balled her hands into fists as she thought of the boy picking himself up, brushing himself down and carrying on as if it was no big deal. Telling his father his day was good—

  Her phone rang in her pocket and she stood back up to fish it out.

  ‘Ellie?’ Marie’s voice came through the speaker.

  ‘Marie! Thank God!’ Her friend could get someone; explain she was with Tyler but wasn’t trying to kidnap him. ‘I’m trapped in a lift going up to our room and Tyler’s with me. I swear I didn’t—’

  ‘I know,’ her friend rushed to interrupt. ‘We can see you on camera—’

  Ellie pulled the phone from her ear and looked at the screen with a frown. On camera? Her camera wasn’t—

  Oh.

  ‘Ellie? Ellie!’ She could hear Marie calling to her and slowly put the phone back to her ear as she looked around the lift.

  ‘Yeah, I’m here.’ She waved as she finally noticed the little camera stuck to the ceiling in the corner.

  ‘Listen, you’ve got— Hey!’ Marie’s shout down the phone made Ellie tear the device from her ear with a wince.

  ‘If you hurt my son— What are—?’

  ‘It’s my phone, arsehole—!’

  Marc Matthews was there. Oh God!

  Ellie felt the colour drain from her face. Marc knew she had his son; he could see them on the camera. Did he watch them signing? Had he seen her hugging his boy? Was that allowed in the States? Fuck. Shit. Bollocks. She was going to jail. She was hated by millions and going to jail for kidnapping and assaulting a child!

  Tyler’s hands on her face brought her away from her thoughts, back to the present, to the quiet, little boy stuck in a box with her, and to the argument streaming from her phone.

  Are you okay? he asked, worry shining in his blue eyes. Ellie was seated on the floor. How the bloody hell had she ended up there? She nodded at the worried boy in front of her and slowly brought the phone back to her ear.

  ‘Ellie!’ Marie called down the line.

  ‘I’m here.’ Her voice sounded weak even to her own ears. ‘I’m here and so is Tyler. He’s Marc’s son isn’t he?’

  ‘Yes! Mr Arsehole is here; he’s demanding to speak to his son. He thinks you’ve purposefully stolen him, that this is all a big pre-planned plot by us to kidnap him and whisk him away. Fucking delusional— Yes you are, you twat—!’

  The conversation became muffled and Ellie wanted to laugh with hysteria as she pictured Marie and Marc squaring off. She imagined her loyal, feisty friend smacking the star square in the jaw and being dragged off by police. Oh God. The two of them locked in a jail cell. Orange really wasn’t either of their colour—she was going to be hearing about how washed-out it made Marie for the rest of her life! Did they still have the death penalty in Nevada?

  ‘Please don’t punch him, Marie,’ Ellie begged her friend, almost whispered her plea into the handset. ‘We can’t both go to jail.’

  ‘No one is going to jail,’ her friend snapped at her, clearly winning the phone back. ‘Dickhead here is going to calm the fuck down before Mallory gets Trent on his case for discrimination, slander, harassment and anything else his super-lawyer brain can think of—’

  Another off-phone voice spoke in response to her friend’s declaration, but Ellie couldn’t make it out.

  ‘Trent fucking Dryer.’ There was a pause as the name was met with silence from whoever was in the room with Marie. ‘That’s right, arseholes, be careful what you say—we’ve got powerful friends too!’

  Who is it, Ellie? Tyler asked and pointed to the phone.

  It’s your dad—papa.

  ‘Ellie, Mr Matthews would like to kindly request’—Marie was using her official translator voice down the phone now—‘that he be allowed to speak to his son.’

  ‘How’s he going to do that? We’re kind of stuck in a lift and Tyler’s deaf.’

  ‘They usually speak via Skype; can I give him your username?’

  ‘Oh. Sure.’

  Marie signed off and Ellie turned back to Tyler.

  Your papa is going to call now. She tried to keep her hands from shaking as she updated the boy.

  Don’t want to talk to him. Folding his arms, he turned away from her, taking himself into the corner of the small lift.

  Her phone chirped with her video app and Ellie groaned.

  How much worse could this get?

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  He’d wanted to kill someone, he truly had. When Sonya had called saying Tyler had run off into a lift with a stranger, he thought he would get the chance.

  When it turned out said stranger wasn’t so much of a stranger after all, but the girl he’d butted heads with only an hour ago, he thought he’d even enjoy killing that particular someone.

  And now that her mouthy little friend wasn’t doing much to help him control his temper, he’d quite like to kill her too.

  He had absolutely no idea what she was on about—discrimination! He had a deaf son for fuck’s sake—but he knew the name Trent Dryer and anyone with a connection to the award winning, very famous for never-losing-a-case attorney was not to be sniffed at.

  ‘Okay, I’ll give him your contact name… Speak soon… I’ll be watching him, so don’t worry about him being
a shit.’ The friend signed off her call and glared at Marc over the computer desk.

  Marc ground his teeth and Jen quickly looked away trying to ensure he wouldn’t see her smirking. Again. Sonya was still on the phone to God-knew-who and Marc caught sight of Frank re-entering the room from the corner of his eye.

  The bodyguard had tried to catch Marc’s son as Tyler darted out from between his and Sonya’s legs, and had been just as furious at the child as Marc was. He’d had to send Frank out for a while to calm himself.

  ‘I’m watching you,’ Marie informed him, eyes narrowed. She pointed her fingers at her eyes and then back at him. ‘If you upset her, if you say anything I deem unsuitable, I’ll make sure that Trent bends you over and—’

  ‘Enough! I get the picture; play nice.’ He shook his head as he added the contact the girl showed him on her phone and five seconds later the user accepted him. He pressed the call button and waited, his eyes turning back towards the CCTV screens on the desk and the one that showed the camera in the lift. He frowned as he saw Tyler, with his back to the camera, sign something, then turn and walk underneath the camera, out of sight. He’d had his arms folded in his I’m-not-talking-to-you pose.

  Marc watched as the girl—Ellie, he reminded himself—looked down at her phone and back to Tyler before her shoulders slumped. She finally hit the answer button, holding her phone up so that he could see her.

  Her face filled the screen of his tablet and the demand to speak to his son caught in his throat. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears of frustration and her hair was ruffled as if she’d been running her fingers through it. Marc wondered if it would feel as silky as it looked if his own fingers ran through it. She pulled herself together; blinked away the tears, sucked in a deep breath and tossed her hair over her shoulders.