Paradise (2 page)

He was usually one of the most laid-back people she knew, but when it came to his house he was slightly anally retentive about things being put away and having ‘clean lines’ everywhere. Well, apparently, that’s what his interior designer had told him to do. Angel was forever leaving magazines lying around only to come back into the room and find they’d been cleared away, along with any stray perfume bottles and bags of make-up. She’d had to come to a deal with Ethan that her dressing room, Honey’s bedroom and playroom, were not subject to the same high standards. Those rooms were a riot of colour and clutter, much more
suited to Angel’s personality than the achingly stylish Italian leather sofas, the state-of-the-art light fittings and sleek modern sculptures on display in the others.

She opened the door of her vast closet and wondered what to wear for a trip to Rodeo Drive, which was probably the most prestigious and famous shopping street in the world. Since moving here she’d adopted the laid-back LA dress code and now had an impressive collection of Havaiana flip-flops in every colour, tiny denim shorts, white vests, and long gold necklaces, bangles and ankle chains. She loved that casual look and it suited her, the denim shorts showing off her long slim brown legs and sexy bum, the white vests showing off her impressive curves and enviably flat stomach. But every now and then it was good to dress up and she decided to do just that, going for an off-the-shoulder white dress with a fitted bodice and tight skirt, and a pair of sky-high, hot pink Louboutin heels which had been designed for Barbie’s fiftieth birthday – life in the old girl yet, if the sexy ankle-strap shoes were anything to go by!

Angel coiled her hair up into a bun. She would have liked to spend more time on it but already Ethan was calling for her, impatiently. That was something he had in common with Cal: he was always telling her to hurry up. She hastily put on tinted moisturiser, lashings of mascara and a slick of sheer pink lip gloss. She always went for natural make-up in the day, and in truth hardly needed any, so stunning was her beauty. She had flawless skin, just a few freckles on her nose, which only added to her charm, beautiful, intensely green eyes, and full sensuous lips. She grabbed her black Dior sunnies, with the Swarovski crystals at the sides – sometimes it was fun to flash the bling – and was good to go.

As she clattered down the grand marble staircase
which curved elegantly down to the hall, Ethan stood gazing up at her, as if he couldn’t quite believe his luck that she was with him.

‘Wow, you look beautiful!’

‘But do I look like a proper lady?’ Angel teased back, putting on her best cockney accent.

‘Proper,’ Ethan replied, attempting to match her cockney. Not good. Mind you, her attempts at a Californian accent always had him in stitches.

‘Best stick to what you know, babe,’ she told him as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

‘This is what I wanted to buy you.’ Ethan pointed out an exquisite green tourmaline pendant. The dazzling gemstone was encircled by diamonds and hanging from a platinum and diamond chain. ‘Can we look at this?’ he asked the elegant saleswoman, who was dressed in a cream silk blouse and black skirt.

‘Of course, Mr Turner,’ she replied, promptly unlocking the glass display cabinet. What Mr Turner asked for, Mr Turner got. Ethan was a huge star.

‘What do you think, Angel?’ Ethan asked as the saleswoman reverently fastened the necklace round Angel’s neck. It looked stunning against her golden brown skin, the brilliant green of the stone making her eyes appear even greener.

‘It’s beautiful,’ she said, looking at herself in the mirror. ‘But it’s a little too grand for me. I want something I could wear every day and you can’t exactly see me wearing this with my shorts and Havaianas can you?’

The saleswoman suppressed a smile.

‘But I want to buy you something really special, babe.’ Ethan came up behind Angel and put his arms round her waist, dropping a kiss on her bare shoulder.

‘What about something like this?’ the saleswoman
asked, holding up a long necklace with at least fifty small diamonds set in platinum. ‘This is something you could wear dressed up or down. It’s a piece that will always work hard for you,’ she said in typical saleswoman speak that made Angel want to smile. She unfastened the pendant and carefully put on the diamond necklace. It was perfectly lovely, the diamonds sparkling where they caught the light.

‘This is more like it!’ Angel exclaimed. Then she stopped. ‘But it must be so expensive. Really, Ethan, you don’t need to get me anything.’

Sometimes she had the uneasy feeling that Ethan was trying to buy her love, that he suspected she might still have feelings for Cal and wanted to do all he could to make her forget her ex-husband.

‘I’m buying it and that’s final.’ Ethan said, adding to the assistant, ‘Can she leave it on and I’ll pay now?’ As they stood by the counter waiting for his credit card to go through, he murmured, ‘You know, sometime I’d like to buy you something else from here.’

He paused and gave her a searching look, and Angel knew exactly what he meant without him needing to say the words.

An engagement ring. Oh, God, not this again. As soon as she had moved in with him, Ethan had wanted her to divorce Cal and marry him. But Angel didn’t want to divorce Cal for adultery or unreasonable behaviour; she wanted their marriage to end quietly after two years of separation, couldn’t bear the thought of getting lawyers in and inevitably having the press pick over every single detail of their lives. And because Cal had been unfaithful, Angel really didn’t know if she ever wanted to get married again. She would rather be happy and live for the moment. She was through with making big statements and promises of life-long commitment.

But Ethan longed to marry her; it was almost an obsession with him and he didn’t understand her reservations. Angel didn’t want the day to be ruined by them taking about the marriage question again so she silenced any further questions by kissing him.

‘I’m terribly sorry, Mr Turner, but there seems to be a problem with your card,’ the saleswoman said discreetly. ‘D’you perhaps have another one?’

‘What do you mean, a problem?’ Ethan asked. ‘I don’t think I’m anywhere up to my limit. There must be some mistake.’ He seemed agitated and fumbled in his wallet, pulling out another card, ‘Try this one.’

But that too was declined. ‘Let’s just leave it,’ Angel suggested. ‘Or, if you want, I can put it on my card.’ Oops, that had not been the right thing to say at all. Ethan’s male pride was not going to stand for that.

He clenched his jaw. ‘Of course you can’t pay for your own gift. I’ve got another card I can use.’ And he handed the saleswoman yet another credit card. Thank God this one was accepted, but the whole payment fiasco had taken some of the shine off the moment.

Ethan, especially, seemed downbeat when they exited the store. A teenage boy approached him for an autograph and picture. Usually Ethan was only too happy to oblige, but on this occasion he moodily signed the Dodgers’ programme and couldn’t even manage a smile for the camera.

‘I don’t know what the fuck’s going on,’ he muttered once they had settled into the chauffeur-driven Chrysler waiting for them. ‘I’ll have to speak to Benny, get him to sort out my cards.’

Benny Sullivan was Ethan’s PR manager and agent and handled all his press, public engagements, sports sponsorship and advertising deals. He had managed Ethan for nearly ten years. While Angel liked pretty well all of Ethan’s friends, she had loathed Benny on
sight. He was one of those men with the habit of stripping women naked with his eyes. Angel couldn’t believe how blatantly he leered at her whenever they met. It was almost as if he thought it was his right to treat her like that as she was a glamour model. Worse still, it was something Ethan seemed completely oblivious to, and Angel had had to endure Benny’s roving eye on many a night out.

She also couldn’t help thinking that Ethan relied on his manager a little too much. Why couldn’t Ethan phone the credit-card companies himself, for instance? Angel had always kept things on a strictly professional basis with her own agent and wouldn’t have dreamt of allowing her to organise things like personal finances. But Ethan liked being looked after, and didn’t like bothering with the everyday trivia. He was forever saying to Angel, ‘Why sweat the small stuff, when someone else can do it for you?’ She didn’t like to reply that maybe, if you actually did things yourself rather than delegating everything, you stayed more grounded.

While Ethan spoke to Benny, Angel stared out of the tinted-glass window. LA certainly was Plastic Surgery Central, which made people-watching here all the more entertaining. She was transfixed by a petite blonde in a tiny turquoise sundress and matching heels, who was dressed like a twenty-something but on closer inspection was more like late-fifties, her skin stretched and Botoxed to the limit, eyes almost disappearing into the sides of her head and lips with the swollen, bloated look of way too much collagen. On what planet was that supposed to be a good look? Angel would never criticise anyone for having surgery – she couldn’t as she’d had a boob job herself when she’d started out as a glamour model – but some people really seemed to have crossed the line and lost all idea of what actually looked good.

Angel loved it in LA but at times was desperately
homesick for Brighton and her family and friends there. She wondered what they were up to right now. She checked her watch, 2 p.m. LA time, 10 p.m. UK time. Everyone she knew would be winding down for the day. Jez, one of her closest friends and also her hairdresser, would probably be out on the town with his husband Rufus. Knowing Rufus, he’d be eager to get home by now, as he had to get up at half six to go to the gym to start work as a personal trainer.

Gemma, her best friend going all the way back to primary school, who was married to Angel’s brother, would either be snuggled up with Tony or out in Brighton with her mates. Tony, had to commute to London every day and often had to work late so he might not be home yet. Gemma worked in her mum’s beauty salon in the heart of Brighton’s Lanes and liked to go out when Tony was late so she didn’t have to sit in the house by herself.

Any minute now, in her parent’s house, Angel’s mum would turn to her dad, who’d be sitting on the sofa beside her watching telly, and say, ‘Right love, that’s me done. I’m off to bed.’ Her dad would give her a kiss and promise to join her soon. And as for Cal, who would he be with? Angel wondered. No, she wouldn’t think of him . . . She sighed, missing them all. At least in a month’s time she would get to see them as she was going back to the UK for Christmas.

Ethan ended his call to Benny. ‘So . . . now for your second surprise.’

‘Oh, no, Ethan, you don’t have to buy me anything else!’ Angel exclaimed.

‘Nope, this one is priceless and I can’t wait to see your face.’ Ethan’s phone rang again. It was one of his team mates. Angel, who had been lost in her thoughts of home, suddenly realised that they were being driven in the opposite direction from Ethan’s house in Santa
Monica, and that if she wasn’t mistaken they were on the freeway heading towards LAX – Los Angeles International Airport. Some fifteen minutes later, as they swung into the pick-up area of the vast airport, her suspicions were confirmed.

‘So can you guess who we’re meeting?’ Ethan asked her, his blue eyes alight with mischief as he walked with her to International Arrivals.

‘No idea,’ Angel replied, scanning the board to give her a clue, but then her attention was drawn to the people streaming through Arrivals – and to one couple in particular: a man in a white trilby and white linen suit, with possibly a little too much fake tan, and a petite woman with jet black hair, dressed in a very fashion fast-forward black dress with studded shoulder pads and insanely high heels.

‘Oh my God!’ Angel squealed in delight, waving her arms wildly, not caring that she was attracting curious looks from the people around her. It was Jez and Gemma! Angel pushed her way through the crowds and threw her arms round first Gemma and then Jez. ‘I can’t believe you’re here!’ she exclaimed, practically jumping up and down in her excitement at seeing her friends.

‘Just two words,’ Jez said when he could finally get a word in edgeways. ‘First class. Ethan paid for us to fly first class! I have never flown in such style before! I had my own bed, my own steward – cute arse, shame about the face. I did think about whether it would count as infidelity if we had a fumble in the loos, but I resisted as I’m a married man. Instead I had as much champagne as I could drink!
And
I got to keep the pyjamas. Gemma was asleep for most of the flight but I was wide awake, loving every single precious minute. It was fabulous!’ Still the same old materialistic, wildly camp Jez.

Angel rolled her eyes at him. ‘So the highlight is the flight . . . not seeing me?’

Jez eye-rolled back. ‘Of course it’s seeing you, Babelicious. Looking beautiful as ever.’

‘And you’re as shallow as ever,’ Angel shot back. ‘But thank God some things never change. I’d think the world was about to end if you were any different.’

At this they were joined by Ethan, who had hung back watching the friends’ reunion. The next few minutes were spent with Jez, Gemma and Angel thanking him profusely for the surprise. ‘I figured Angel could do with seeing you guys,’ he said, ‘I know how homesick she gets sometimes.’ Angel thought she had hidden that and was touched that he had realised.

‘Thanks so much, Ethan,’ she said quietly, kissing him lightly on the lips. ‘That was the sweetest thing, the best present ever.’

‘I’d do anything to make you happy,’ he told her. Angel wanted to say the same, but if anything meant divorcing Cal then she just didn’t think she could do it.

Back at the house Jose and Maria had laid on a poolside BBQ with mini-burgers, seared prawns and delicious salads. Honey was back from her day out and thrilled to be with her mummy again. At two and a half, she was a perfect poppet with long dark brown curly hair, big brown eyes, and the beautiful olive skin of her father. She was also feisty and cheeky, and could throw tantrums for Britain. She snuggled on Angel’s lap, playing with the diamond necklace, while the friends caught up. Ethan had to go to some business meeting.