Star Struck (17 page)

‘Jack?' I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, an instinctive move to get closer to him. ‘Are you all right?'

A moment with no answer. Then his eyes lifted to mine. ‘I'm thirty-five. I've lived nineteen years past the accident, and still I live it every day. Perhaps
that
is the real problem.' His voice was soft. ‘Survivor guilt, Skye. You know about that?' A short laugh. ‘Maybe you do.' A deep inhalation. ‘And I've never said this to anyone else, not even the doctors. Never told them how much it still haunts me, like … like I can
feel
Ryan, just there.' He waved a hand vaguely over his shoulder. ‘There's people down there … dressing up as my characters, discussing them, fucking
analysing
them, can you believe it? And all the while, these pilots, these alien creatures, all my novels, the
Two Turns North
storylines – they're my way of working through what happened.' Now his gaze bored through me, eyes like black holes. ‘My whole
life
has been trying to work through what happened. And after that, anything else is just …' he threw his hands wide, ‘meaningless. I exist for my work, Skye, for writing, for trying to put into words what's happening to me. That makes me, I dunno, careless with people. I can't – oh God, I'm going to use some terrible Americanism here – I can't
relate
.' Now one arm lay loosely at his side, as though he'd even stopped trying to express things through body language, and the other hand hooked back into the necklace. ‘And then I met you and …'

I stared at him. ‘So you think I'm, what, different? Because I know how it feels not to be dead?'

‘You're not like … you don't … I can't explain. You're something else.' He dropped his hand from his throat and shrugged. ‘I don't know what I'm trying to say here. I don't know why … And, for the record, yes, I can dance.'

‘You're really messed up, aren't you?' I asked it softly, half-hoping he wouldn't hear. But he did, and his head went up higher, his eyes slipped from mine to stare at some spot near the ceiling.

‘Of course I'm messed up,' he said. ‘I'm a writer.'

There was a tap at the door and Felix's voice came through the frame. ‘Skye? Jack?'

After a long, weighted pause, Jack opened the door to reveal Felix, wearing the biggest smile I'd ever seen. ‘What's up?'

‘They've sent me up to ask if you're okay? Only they want you downstairs. For the signing?'

‘Shit!' Jack shook his head briefly, as though trying to bring himself back to consciousness. ‘Forgot.'

‘They've been doing my pictures already, God, it was brilliant – like being Miss World. I explained about you, darling, not being fit to take the part. They might want a little siggy from you, but they can wait until you feel better, they said. And if you're poorly Jack, they'll put it off.'

‘No. No, it's okay. I'll go. Get it over with.' He checked his reflection in the mirror which hung opposite the bed, pulled a face, ran a hand over his unshaven cheeks and grimaced again. Both Felix and I were transfixed, watching him move around the room searching for his glasses and then splashing aftershave randomly across his stubble with the expression of someone who knows it's too late to shower and who hopes no-one will notice. When he unbuttoned the front of his shirt and splashed some of the aftershave across his chest, Felix gave a small whine. ‘Oh Lord, will you look at him? It shouldn't be walking the streets, it really shouldn't.'

Jack raised his eyebrows and rebuttoned his shirt. ‘I'd better put my face in front of them. Get up when you're feeling like it and lock up after you.' He slipped his glasses on. ‘Do I look okay?'

‘Be still my beating heart,' Felix said.

‘Actually I was asking Skye.'

I looked at him for what felt longer than decent. ‘Oh yes. You look okay. But, no shoes?'

‘Nah. Catch you later.' And, with a flip of his hand, he was gone.

Felix immediately went over to the laptop and switched it on.

‘What are you doing?'

‘Just looking, lover. He might have something incriminating on there. Or some script, something, anything I can work with. Some insider secrets.' He turned to me, his eyes full of fire and life. ‘You
did it
, my darling, you actually
did it
. I'm gonna be on
Fallen Skies
!'

‘Might be just a bit part. Walk on.'

‘Don't care. Think how great it'll look on my CV. And I'll get a name check on the closing credits; you never know, might jog someone in Hollywood into asking for me.'

‘I thought that's why you had an agent?'

‘He's useless. Told me to stick to EastEnders auditions. Ah, here we go.'

The screen burst into life. ‘It'll be passworded. He's not going to risk someone stealing his ideas.'

‘Yeah, but he might have left something running in the background. He'd never suspect you of trying to sneak a look at his Great Work, would he? Silly, silly boy.' A sharp look. ‘He seems pretty serious about you, darling. Can't keep his eyes off you. You getting any action in that direction yet?' Felix scrolled down the screen. ‘Because I am
seriously
jealous, he is definitely on my things-to-do list. I tell you, he shows the slightest inclination and I am going for it.' A moment's silent reading. ‘You, or no you.'

‘We've got things in common, Fe, that's all.'

‘Huh.' He went quiet, then bounced away from the laptop, shutting off the power and carefully tipping the screen to the exact angle it had been before he touched it. ‘Yeah. Useless, but, hey, it was worth a shot. Never mind, tall order really. Right. Okay. You ready to get off your man's bed yet?' Then he sat on the bed and the manic choirboy persona dropped away so quickly that I was derailed. ‘Skye, are you really okay with me taking this part? I mean, you can do it if you want to. I won't mind.'

‘Yes, you would. And yes, I'm really okay with it. I'd half-hoped for the dinner with Gethryn …'

‘I
knew it
! I fucking
knew it
!' Felix jumped up, but didn't look annoyed. ‘I said to Jack that I reckoned you'd try and throw it, just to get a date with your Welshman. I told him last night. Just the sort of thing you'd do.'

‘It's okay, I'd changed my mind. Not even sure I'm going to go to the fancy dress ball, to be honest.' I tried not to think about those searching fingers, the mouth that wouldn't give me space to breathe, that insistence …

‘So, you've gone off the luscious Gethryn, have you? What, switched allegiance to Mr Dark and Mysterious? That was quick and, if I may say so, rather shallow of you.'

A quick pang of shame speared me. Eighteen months. For eighteen months I'd lusted after Gethryn, so yes, Felix was right, superficially I
was
being petty and two-faced. ‘It was …' But I couldn't do it. Couldn't even bring myself to mention letting Gethryn kiss me and then chickening out because he got a bit forceful about it. ‘Gethryn is a star. There's millions of women clustering around him, he doesn't really want me and my scars, he was just being …'
What? Nice?
‘I don't know about Jack. He's not very forthcoming.'

‘Maybe he's shy.'

‘Maybe I'm not his type. Maybe he's not mine.' I stared at Felix for a moment. ‘Was Michael my type?'

Felix turned his head away, running his hands through his hair until it spiked up in random peaks. His shoulders hunched forward. ‘You've seen the photos.'

‘Yes, but I want to
know
. Not just album loads of shots of faces I can't remember, but to know about
who I
am, do you see, Fe? A year's worth of memory loss is one hell of a lot of things just gone “poof”.'

‘Existential angst. It's a bastard.' Fe kept his head turned away but his tone was light. ‘You know who you are, Skye, you know what you're like. Why does that year matter so much?'

I stared at his back. ‘Shouldn't it?'

He turned around then and his face had changed. He looked older, that childish playfulness had gone and been replaced by a pulled-down, almost feral, expression and his yellow-diamond eyes were chilly. ‘Yeah. You could be right.' Even his voice was different, deeper and hoarser. ‘Maybe we
should
talk about that.'

His intensity scared me. It meant there was something to know, something I didn't suspect and had never seen, despite all those endless frames I'd scoured through, still desperately hoping that some memory had been left to me. ‘Is it … is it something I should tell Jack?'

There was a momentary wavering, as though Felix hovered between breaking down or running away, but his mood settled out at manic once again. ‘Hey, you're very concerned about him all of a sudden! Just how far
have
you got with Mr Moody Stare Whitaker? How many bases have you collectively touched? And no lying to your uncle Felix, because he'll know.'

‘He held my hand. Patted my back when I threw up.'

Felix affected disgusted disbelief. ‘And that's
all
? Darling, the guy is burning for you, his loins throb in your direction, and you're telling me that all you've done is a little maiden-aunting?'

I lifted the edge of my T-shirt to where the scars criss-crossing my body began. ‘How do you think he'd react to this, if we got any further?'

Fe raised his eyebrows. ‘But I reckon, if he really likes you, why should he worry? It's only a bit of scarring, like your face. Doesn't stop you doing the dirty, does it?'

‘It affects who I am.' I dropped the shirt and stood up. ‘The accident made me into a different person, Fe.'

A pause. He cleared his throat and drew down his eyebrows until they nearly touched his lashes. I wondered what he was going to say. ‘Yeah, I know,' he said softly. ‘I know.'

My heart slid and skidded in my chest.
What was going on?

Chapter Seventeen

Jack forced himself to smile. It wasn't natural, this level of hero-worship. He was just a writer. He had ideas and wrote them down; it wasn't like he turned those words into actions, or directed the show or anything. He was just the ideas-man and this constant call for his attention felt wrong.

‘Jay! Jay, over here!' Another girl, jumping up and down and waving an arm to catch his eye. ‘Will you sign this?'

‘Sure.' Slipping into his writerly persona, approachable but withdrawn, he pushed the glasses up tight to his eyes like a mask. ‘Who to?'

‘Candy.' Breasts jostled his arm as she bent low beside him. He tried to smile again.

‘Lovely name.'

‘Yeah. I'm gonna break into writing, y'know. Next year, when I finish college.'

Jack scribbled his name. ‘Good luck with that,' he muttered, knowing he sounded sarcastic. Inside he was aching in a way he hadn't for a decade, hating himself for the performance he was putting on. Hating who he was, what he was, just about everything about himself.

‘Yeah. Perhaps you could, y'know, give me some tips?'

He looked up at her face now. Tight pink lips in a knowing smile, perfect teeth, perfect skin. Perfect hair, loose and blonde across narrow shoulders, swinging aside now and again to show glimpses of a bustier top and hints of a bra strap. He should be turned on, he knew that. Should be wriggling in his seat, adjusting himself under the table, so as not to let his body's eagerness show. But all he could think of was Skye and the look in her eyes when she'd asked if she could help him. Even without knowing what he'd done, what he might need help
with
, she'd cared enough to offer. More than Lissa ever had. More than anyone ever had, come to that. All they saw were the scars, the superficial damage to his body. Skye had been the first one to look underneath, to see that so much more had been ripped apart than skin and flesh; the first one to see how cut up his soul was. Maybe it was because she had suffered too, or maybe it was just an innate desire to reach out and heal, he didn't know.

‘You going to the ball, Jay?'

It took him a second to pull back, to realise that the girl,
Candy
, was still talking to him. ‘Maybe.'

‘I'll see you there then.' A knowing wink. ‘I'm going as a Thulos. You can't get a lot of underwear under that costume, know what I'm saying, Jay?' The breast nudged his arm again and this time he was slightly relieved to feel himself stiffening. At least his autonomic nervous system was still on-line, whatever else might have packed up.

‘Maybe,' he repeated, and watched Candy slither off into the crowd, giving him a tiny wave over her shoulder as she went.
Well, if Skye doesn't want me …
he thought.
At least I'll get a dance.