A Twist of Fate (17 page)

‘Look, babe, who needs Tom Yearsley? We've got Paul Mason.' A pretty girl with long legs placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned over him, smiling seductively at his reflection in the mirror. ‘I must admit, Mr Mason. I'd rather have you than Tom Yearsley any day. Bet he couldn't survive two seconds on a desert island.' Giggling ensued and the gaggle of them surrounded Paul in a haze of perfume and hair products. I still only had mascara on one eye.

The door opened again and Jack Northam appeared around it. ‘Ready, guys? I'll see you on the floor in two minutes.'

‘Shit,' murmured misery guts. ‘Better get on with it.'

My mascara was finally balanced up and the rest of me sorted. I looked at my reflection and couldn't help a little smile. ‘Thank you,' I said. Even I thought I looked the part. I glanced at Paul. He was looking across at me softly. It made me blush.

Laura came in. ‘OK, you two, this way. We're going to take you through your entrances. How do you want to walk on? You're seen as a pair, so maybe hold hands?'

‘Umm.'

‘What do you mean by that?' asked Paul. I could detect the annoyance in his voice.

She smiled. ‘Well, I mean I know you're not together like that, but you survived together, you're close … that's what we want to convey. Maybe just put a hand on her elbow and guide her.'

‘Oh, I'm fine,' I added quickly, making a deliberate attempt to step away from Paul.

‘No. He'll hold you by the elbow. That'll work.' Her tone left no room for argument. I looked at Paul, who raised his eyebrows in resignation. ‘We'll tell you when to go on. You walk out, not fast, take your time. Put up a hand to wave to the audience, nothing too cheesy or royal, then go and sit next to each other on the sofa. We'll run through that now, OK?'

I nodded, nerves suddenly taking hold, even though it was only a rehearsal. This was a show watched by an average of six million people. I wanted Paul's hand on me now.

I could hear Jack Northam's voice from the other side of a partition. It was a flimsy thing made of plywood and held up with struts and stage weights. The other side must be the studio set, which always looked impressive and solid on my screen. The deceit of television struck home. Paul put his hand on my elbow. I wanted more. Laura held up five splayed fingers and started counting them down, mouthing the words to us, ‘Five, four, three, two, one, go.' She beckoned us around the corner. The lights almost blinded me but I smiled and waved. The audience cheered.

Jack told us exactly where to sit, checked with the cameraman that it was OK, then asked us a few easy questions about how hot it was on the island and what it was like being back in the UK.

‘OK, that's about it for now. It'll be more of the same when we go for it. We may have to shoot some things a couple of times just to get everything perfect, but we'll try not to keep you.'

A buzzer sounded and the producer called, ‘Ten minute break, everyone.' The audience began to leave their seats and we were left with Jack. He turned to look at his script, ignoring us. Paul and I glanced at each other and got up to head out. As we did I bumped into someone coming our way. ‘Oh, sorry!' I muttered and looked up into the unmistakable face of Tom Yearsley.

The actor smiled broadly, openly holding my stare. ‘No, I'm sorry. I should have looked where I was going.' He swept a hand through his dark blond hair. Just like Rupert. I was momentarily star-struck. He held out a hand. ‘I'm Tom.'

‘Callie.'

‘Yeah, I know, the girl from the plane.' Shit, he sounded like Rupert too. ‘Unbelievable, what happened. I have so much respect for you.'

I laughed nervously. He was still looking at me and holding my hand. It was all rather flattering. I remembered Paul and turned to him. ‘This is Paul. He was with me on the island.'

‘Yeah, of course. Hi, dude. Amazing.'

The word “dude” sounded strange from this effortlessly privileged man with his rounded vowels. It made me more nervous. Paul shook his hand and muttered, ‘Cheers.' Tom immediately turned back to me.

‘You're on first, aren't you?'

‘Yeah, I think so.'

‘You done this before?'

‘We had an interview on
Breakfast Time Britain
the other day.' I looked to Paul for some communion. He had his head down.

‘Oh yeah, I'm sorry I missed that, but I caught some of your press conference. You handled it really well.'

The production assistant crept forward. ‘Mr Yearsley, sorry. I think Jack's ready for you now.'

‘Of course, I'm so sorry. I'm just on my way, Laura.' He smiled at her and she melted back with a breathy laugh. His exaggerated sincerity was blatantly fake but still appealing. He didn't move. I was beginning not to know where to look.

‘I have to go, but I'll catch up in a minute, Callie. I'd love to hear about your experiences.' He was still smiling. ‘And yours, Paul,' he added as an afterthought.

‘You'll hear in the interview,' said Paul. His hands were deep in his pockets and his jaw was clenched.

Tom ignored him. ‘It's great to meet you. See you in a minute.'

I nodded and smoothed back my hair. Tom smiled again, like in a toothpaste advert, and turned onto the floor of the studio.

‘What the fuck was that about?' said Paul, his voice tight.

‘What?'

‘You know what. He could barely keep his dick in his pants.'

‘Don't be silly. He was just being polite. It's refreshing to find a Hollywood star who's down to earth.'

Paul sniffed derisively. I wanted to step in and curl my arms around his slender, hard waist, pull him into me, and work myself against his groin until I felt his cock stirring for me. But there were too many people around. I smiled up instead and whispered, ‘I like it when you get possessive.'

He flicked his hooded eyes to mine and relaxed. ‘Just want tonight to come, Callie.'

‘Me too. This is torture, being here and not being able to touch you.'

He let out one of his rumbling groans of frustration and my stomach flipped.

‘Do you guys want to come with me? I'll take you to the green room. We're not rolling for about half an hour yet but you can hang out there and there's plenty of food and drink.' Laura's abrasive tones brought us back with force.

We darted our heads round. I could feel my eyes widen with guilty discovery, but Laura was staring at her clipboard, pre-occupied. She smiled tersely then turned for us to follow.

We were led into a waiting area with sofas, soft drinks, and bowls of fruit. Photographs of Jack with past guests adorned the walls – Tom Cruise, Scarlett Johansson, Hugh Jackman, Keira Knightley. The nerves jangled and I sat quickly, tucking my hands into my lap. Paul slumped back, legs apart, arms outstretched on the back of the sofa.

‘Aren't you nervous?' I asked.

He shrugged. ‘No. I don't get nervous over things like this. It's not exactly life and death, is it?'

I recalled his calm manner as the plane began to shake. Even that hadn't fazed him. I drew strength from it. My leg jiggled. ‘I'd better go to the loo.' I stood up and headed out.

After coming out of the loos, I must have taken a wrong turn. I was in a labyrinth of corridors with no obvious way back to where I should be. I turned a corner and met Tom Yearsley coming the other way, nearly bumping into him again.

‘Hello,' he laughed. ‘We must stop meeting like this.'

I smiled up. He really was incredibly handsome.

‘I think I've got a bit lost,' I confessed.

‘It's crazy back here. You need to go that way.' He pointed behind me. ‘I just popped out for a quick fag. Old habits die hard.' He grinned. Even more like Rupert.

‘I can't sit still,' I said. ‘Bit nervous. I suppose you're used to this sort of thing?'

‘I've done a few, but the adrenaline still kicks in. It's like going on stage, but not nearly as terrifying. At least here I know the audience is on my side.'

‘Paul said he saw your Hamlet.'

‘Did he?' His eyebrows rose up in genuine surprise. ‘Wow, I wouldn't have thought that was his thing.'

I felt a stab of annoyance at his presumption. ‘He's an interesting guy. He was surprised that someone who went to Eton would be doing so well in Hollywood, I guess.'

‘We don't all spend our time eating cucumber sandwiches and riding to hounds, you know,' he teased.

I laughed. ‘I know, I'm sorry. I went to private school too, not like Eton, but … I'll shut up.' I hung my head, embarrassed. He had a way of smoothing over any hint of criticism.

‘Which school?'

‘Farley Court, near Cobham.'

Tom's face lit up. ‘Oh yeah, I know it. My best friend from RADA went there – Sasha Mosley.'

‘Sasha? Yeah. She was Head Girl a few years before me.'

‘Head Girl? Christ. She never mentioned that. Bloody hell.' He looked down at his feet.

‘What?'

He sighed. ‘Sasha's had a tough time of it. She struggled to get a break and got into a bad way, prescription drugs then … the rest. She's getting there though, she's in rehab at the moment.'

I frowned in dismayed bewilderment. ‘Shit. She was always so immaculate.'

‘She put a lot of pressure on herself. And so did others.' He looked pensively along the hall. ‘You never know what's going on inside.'

‘No. Poor Sasha. I just remember this bright, bubbly character from my school days, so full of life.'

Tom smiled it away and changed the subject. ‘I guess you've had a mad time since you got back?'

‘Yeah, it's been … fun.' I laughed awkwardly.

‘It is at first, but then, when you realise your life's not your own anymore …'

I looked at him fully. ‘You handle it well.'

‘I guess I have Eton to thank for that!' he joked, then quickly grew thoughtful. ‘Made a man of me and all that – just not quite the man my father envisaged, perhaps. He was army. A colonel.'

‘Gosh. It must be horrible at times. I don't think I have the staying power you do, though. I'm hoping they'll get bored of me soon enough.'

‘I wouldn't be so sure. You have a great story.' He paused and waited until I was looking straight at him. ‘And you're incredibly beautiful.'

I blushed, grateful for the gloominess of the corridor to hide my scarlet cheeks. The way he said ‘beautiful' sent a curl of pride and curiosity unravelling inside. I made the mistake of holding his gaze. He smiled softly. One of the most desirable men on the planet was flirting with me.

‘And you're easy to talk to,' he added softly.

‘Thanks.'

‘If you were available, I'd like to get to know you better.'

I frowned slightly. ‘If I was available?'

‘Yeah … you and Paul.'

Panic dashed to my head. ‘Oh! We're … umm … we're … no, we're …'

Shit!
Shit!

He laughed. ‘Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me, but it's pretty bloody obvious. You can't take your eyes off each other. Bloody sexy to watch together, actually. You're both gorgeous and clearly gagging for each other. No wonder you have the nation eating out of your hands.'

‘Oh God.' I hung my head. ‘Please, please don't say anything. I'm supposed to be with this other guy and … it's all so bloody complicated.'

‘It's all right. I won't tell a soul. I'm used to keeping secrets, believe me. Me and Flora de Villiers were screwing each other senseless during the whole promotional tour of
Dark Vengeance
and nobody had a damn clue.'

I laughed. ‘Your co-star? I thought she was with the guy from that TV show?'

He cocked an eyebrow. ‘She is. Naughty me.'

‘It must be a nightmare.'

‘Yes. You sometimes lose your moral compass. That's why it's nice talking to you. You seem very grounded. Look, we'd better get back to the green room. They'll be wondering where we are.'

He smiled and reached out a hand to shake mine. I took it. ‘It's a privilege to know you, Callie Frobisher.' He held my hand tight and met my eyes, then reached down and planted a kiss on my cheek, lingering over it.

‘What the fuck d'you think you're doing, pal?'

Before I knew it, Tom was pushed away from me and pinned against the wall. Paul had hurtled out of nowhere. His body was strained, his muscles tight and bulbous as he held his right forearm against Tom's chest and pinned his arm to his side.

‘Whoa! Take it easy, mate!' exclaimed Tom.

‘I'm not your fucking mate, posh cock! You get your hands off her.'

‘My hands weren't on her.'

‘Paul! For God's sake, what the hell are you doing? We were just talking!' I reached up and tried to pull him back. He at last slackened and moved away, releasing Tom. Paul stood still, every muscle tense, breathing heavily, still glaring at the actor.

He pointed aggressively in his face. ‘Don't you fucking go near her, d'you hear?'

Tom's face was dark with annoyance, but he held up his hands defensively. ‘She's all yours, trust me. But I hope you bloody deserve her.'

‘What?' Paul took a step in again, his eyes narrowed.

I stepped in between them. ‘Look, it's OK. Leave it, Paul, we were just talking. Tom knows someone I knew from school. We were just talking.'

I put my hands on his chest and eased out the rage still gripping him. I was beset by a mixture of fear and adoration at his behaviour. His jealousy was thrilling, but the violent anger revealed a side that made me think again of those news articles. Still, in the dark mugginess of the corridor, with this raw man under my fingertips, I felt the stirrings of desire. Tom was forgotten. My whole being seeped towards Paul.

Tom straightened himself up and gave a sigh of recovery. ‘Look, if you two want to keep this secret, you're not going about it very well. They'll be looking for us. Calm yourself down and come back.'