Star Struck Page 8

  ‘Actually, I’m a fan,’ I managed to stammer out. ‘I’m here for the convention.’

  Gorgeous tawny eyes met mine and a firm hand under my elbow guided me further from the pretending-not-to-be-listening crowd. ‘Ah, but you’re not barking though, are you? Haven’t noticed you lifting your top to get your boobs signed, or sitting outside my trailer all night in a tiny little dress and no knickers.’

  I couldn’t force my eyes away from his face. Gethryn must have thought I had some kind of staring disorder. ‘I … like … the programme.’

  Yeah, that’s kind of the definition of ‘fan’, I berated myself from inside my head, but Gethryn was gracious. ‘Thanks, bach. If only I could have stayed on … I had plans for Lucas James – oh, never mind.’

  Now I could only nod. I felt much as I should think a toddler feels on being quizzed by a department-store Santa, as though I was in the presence of a representative of God. Every millimetre of his face was familiar to me, yet I still couldn’t stop my eyes from blazing all over it, seeing the raised lines of stubble around his mouth and the way his lips pouted around his Welsh accent. In the show he spoke with a generic English inflection; there was something erotic beyond words at the dips and swoops of the Brecon intonation. There was something about the way he said bach that made it sound far more intimate and sexy than the English equivalent ‘dear’. And he was still holding my hand. I was afraid to move and draw attention to the fact, so I just stood. My mouth was open slightly, I didn’t dare lick my lips, he might think I was drooling, so I just gaped at half-mast and hoped that I didn’t look like the village idiot.

  ‘You looked a bit panicked in there.’ Gethryn spoke again; his voice was quieter now, for me only. ‘Not like crowds then, cariad?’

  Cariad? Had he just called me darling?

  ‘I’m not good with lots of people, no.’ He didn’t need to know about the stress thing that caused the anxiety attacks; it might make him revise his opinion of me up to Grade Two Bonkers.

  Gethryn moved closer, half a step, a full step. Now he was right beside me and I could feel him breathing, the weight of his pale linen suit brushing against my wrist. ‘Something we have in common, lovely, I don’t like the crowds so much either. It’s a stupid profession that I’m in for someone who hates gatherings like this, but, hey, you do what you’re good at, don’t you?’

  I gave a hard, slow blink to stop myself wondering exactly what else he was good at. ‘Where’s your …. every time I’ve seen you there’s been … security men?’

  ‘Ah, Bill and Ben the Flowerpot Men. Given them the slip for a moment.’ He gestured towards a bottle of Scotch and a single, full glass balanced on the wall near the steps. ‘Just wanted some fresh air and a drink of something that doesn’t taste like mule’s piss.’ The voice dropped to that whisper again and I had to lean in close to catch his words. ‘You won’t give me away, will you, bach?’ He shook his head, comically scuffing a toe in the sand like a child.

  Suddenly there was a presence at my other shoulder.

  ‘Geth? You’re wanted inside. They’re going to announce the arrangements for tomorrow’s Big Competition, you have to be there.’

  ‘Oh, what? Why? Can’t they get on without me?’

  ‘You’re the star.’ Jack’s voice was bitter. ‘Of course they can’t do it without you.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘Geth.’ Warning, now.

  ‘Oh, fuck. All right, boy, I’ll be there. Keep your shirt on.’ Gethryn turned to me. ‘Rain check on this then, bach, yes?’ And before I could answer he’d headed back up the steps into the diner.

  I stayed where he’d left me, stunned. Half-consciously rubbing my scar with the back of my hand and making a mental note to always always use this brand of cover-up. Mouth still open.

  ‘And you, pull yourself together.’ Jack spoke from between clenched teeth. ‘Mr Fantastic has gone now.’

  ‘I can’t believe …’ I was staring into space. ‘He spoke to me. He actually spoke to me!’

  ‘Whoopee doo.’ Jack sounded sardonic now. ‘Is that his drink?’ He gestured towards the bottle and glass on the wall.

  ‘No.’ I wanted Jack to give me the bottle. It was something Gethryn had touched. I would keep it forever. And I was never going to wash this hand again.

  ‘Okay. If you say so.’ Jack gave me an odd look. A sudden renegade breeze startled his hair over his face and, as he brushed it back, I noticed his eyes looked worried. Unsettled. ‘Just … Skye. Gethryn isn’t … He’s sometimes a bit … difficult, you know?’

  ‘You don’t have to worry about me,’ I said tightly. ‘I’m capable of looking out for myself.’

  All I got for that was an ironically raised eyebrow which, bearing in mind this morning’s little fiasco, had a point. ‘I realise that I’m shouting prayers in the Church of Satan here but just … be careful. That’s all.’

  He was more smartly dressed than I’d seen him before, I noticed now. A proper shirt, and jeans that were if not exactly dressy, then at least clean. He wore a narrow-framed pair of glasses and for one tiny second I felt a tickle of familiarity. I’ve seen you somewhere before. A long time ago … Before the accident? Possibly, but this had the feeling of not being part of the memory loss, simply something I couldn’t immediately recall. Perfectly normal not-remembering of something … Something that came associated with … trouble?

  ‘Oh, there you are.’ Felix came fussing across the yard like a hen whose chicks have become dispersed. ‘Fancy a stroll?’

  Jack stared at him. ‘Are you not going to listen to the announcement about tomorrow’s qu–’

  Felix cut him off. ‘Are you feeling all right, Skye? You’re a bit pink … Did it all get a bit much?’

  ‘She’s been having a tête-à-tête with Mr Tudor-Morgan.’ Jack’s voice was dry.

  ‘I’d actually quite like to go inside now.’ I tried to disengage myself from Felix’s arm but he had a surprisingly strong grip on my elbow.

  ‘Oh, it’s nothing important. I shouldn’t think,’ he added hastily. ‘But shouldn’t you be …?’ A nod to Jack and an indication of the head towards the rapidly filling diner, where I could see Gethryn being hustled towards an empty square of flooring, being kept free from people by more of the jacketed security men. ‘Don’t they need you?’

  Jack shrugged and he blew out as though he had another lit cigarette between his lips. ‘Not really. I’m just one of the team, that’s all. And, let’s face it, I could be standing beside Geth with my dick out and no-one would notice.’

  ‘I would,’ Felix said gamely. ‘I’d be looking.’

  ‘Cheers. I think.’

  ‘What have you got against Gethryn?’ My anger was rising at his cavalier way of dispatching a man who had been flirting so ego-boostingly with me.

  Jack fixed me with a suddenly very serious brown-eyed gaze. ‘Skye. I wouldn’t hold anything against Gethryn Tudor-Morgan that wasn’t made of asbestos, and even then it would have to be reinforced.’ I watched his eyes move, taking in my scar. ‘But you’re right. I’d better go. Someone who knows what’s going on should be there with him.’ And he was gone, slipping his shadowy body up the three shallow steps and back inside, where the crowd moved to allow him entrance.

  I twitched to follow, but Felix pulled me back.

  ‘Come on. I want to know where you vanished to. I’d just got across to Mr Jared White in there, who, I might add has the scrummiest set of abs under that get-up and he needn’t try to pretend otherwise, and when I turned round, you’d gone.’

  ‘I had a bit of a panic, went outside and Gethryn and I got talking. That’s all, nothing scandalous.’ We started walking. Dusk was gathering overhead and the cicadas’ thrumming noise was all around us like tiny razors being stropped. ‘Jack came and interrupted before it got interesting.�
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  Felix looked up, checking our position. We were out of sight of the diner now, heading around the motel towards the main doors … ‘So, was Gethryn chatting you up? Go on, lover, tell me everything.’

  I recounted as much of the conversation as I thought repeatable. I wanted to hold some of the words secret, not spread them out and make them public property but keep them only for myself, to take out and think over when I was alone. And besides, what really remained of the conversation boiled down to the memory of Gethryn’s studied stubble and his hair moving in the breeze; the feel of his fingers holding my hand and those leonine eyes watching my soul.

  ‘Darling, I’m surprised your underwear hasn’t spontaneously combusted – do you know how many women here would pay any money to have Gethryn Tudor-Morgan get them alone? And a fair few men as well; at least, I’m hoping.’

  ‘It was … nice, yes.’

  ‘Nice? How long have you been lusting after that man? A year-and-a-half? Two series’ worth of Fallen Skies; what, nearly fifty episodes? I seriously fear for your attitude sometimes, Skye. Next time he chats you up – and yes, I am certain there will be a next time – then you just follow along anywhere he wants to lead, tout de suite and I shan’t have a glass to the wall, all right?’

  I gave a kind of sideways nod which could have meant anything, but Felix took it as agreement. He always thought I agreed with him. We stood in the softly encroaching dark for a while, Felix leaning against the wall of the motel while I crossed my arms over my chest.

  ‘You thinking about the accident?’ Felix’s voice was surprisingly gentle. ‘Your fingers.’

  I tucked my hands into the pockets of my jeans. ‘Faith, actually.’ Felix gave an almost inaudible sigh. ‘She wanted to go to America, didn’t she?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He bent to examine the toe of his shoe. ‘Never got the chance.’

  ‘I miss her.’ Inside my pockets my thumbs were running along the fingertip scars, tracing them. Inside my head the colours of the accident raged, the blue flames, the red-hot metal. Not memories, something older, harder and more primitive.

  ‘You and me both, babe. You and me both.’

  Another silence. A loved-up couple who’d been strolling around outside under the almost unnaturally clear desert sky came towards us, hand in hand. As they passed, I saw the girl’s eyes, dark in the moonlight, flick to my face and I felt the almost pre-emptive embarrassment rise into my throat. ‘I think … Can we go up to the room now?’

  ‘Sure.’ But Fe didn’t move; he seemed lost inside his thoughts, scuffing his feet in the dust. I felt a little burst of fondness for him, he looked so young with his tousled hair and his face all scrunched up. So unaware of how people looked at me, and, by extension, him.

  ‘I am glad we came, Fe.’

  Then his head came up and that choirboy smile folded his cheeks. ‘That’s really good, Skye. I mean, this whole thing, it’s been good for you, yeah? Even if you never get inside the supremely tight pants of the T-M, you’re having a great time, aren’t you? And then there’s our Jack –’

  ‘He’s weird.’

  ‘Whatever. Just you remember, darling, who saw him first.’ Felix pushed himself away from the wall. ‘C’mon.’

  But the motel had erupted into noise and light. With the coming dark, even those not attending Gethryn’s little address-the-masses moment had crowded inside and I could hear the voices bursting through every wall. ‘I think I might just stay out here for a bit longer, actually. If that’s okay.’

  He nodded. ‘The T-M isn’t likely to strike twice in one night, though, lover.’

  ‘I’m just enjoying the peace and quiet.’

  ‘Two shakes then.’ He leapt inside and was back in a couple of minutes with a large glass of something amber. ‘Here. Drink that down and you’ll be fit for an early night.’

  I sniffed it. ‘Wow. Smells like paint stripper.’

  ‘That, darling, is a Broken Hill Special.’

  ‘Smells like it. Broken something, anyway.’ I sniffed again. ‘Intestines, possibly.’

  ‘Chug-a-lug, there’s a good girl.’

  I took a cautious first sip. The warmth rode down my throat like a roping cowboy, captured my tonsils and begged for backup. ‘It’s not bad. It’s a bit like … tequila?’

  ‘Mm, mostly tequila.’ Felix watched me drain the glass, then took the empty and sat next to me on the edge of the little raised wall that circled the entire motel, as though it marked some kind of border. ‘Ever thought about moving out here? To the States?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You could sell the house, make enough to move. Might do you good. I’m sure you talked about moving to the States, you know.’

  I frowned. Trying to find the memories was like staring into a black maelstrom and made my forehead ache. ‘Did I?’

  ‘That’s what you told me.’

  I shook my head. ‘I wish I could remember. Sometimes I feel like one of those pod aliens – everything you tell me about the past sounds so weird and so unlike me, as though I was someone different before. Like I’m a new soul in a body you think you know.’

  Felix shrugged an elegant shoulder and stared off into the desert. There was an expression on his face that was close to pain and I touched his hand. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean to remind you of … back then. It makes me feel so strange when I think that there’s a life that we had that I can’t remember, stuff that we did, stuff I can’t share in any more. I mean, I can do that whole “remember that time?” thing, but only up to a certain point, and that makes me feel stupid. Like I’m not really trying. I know I can’t help it, but I am sorry, all the same.’

  He turned, his expression too complicated to read. ‘I guess you are,’ he said, his eyes tracing the outline of my scar. ‘Right. Feeling better now?’

  I wanted to say that I hadn’t been feeling bad to start with, but, although my eyebrows seemed to be fully functioning, the rest of my face had been hit with a kind of palsy which made my lips go numb and my nose start to run. ‘’S a bit … bloopy.’ The desert began to melt and I stood up, panicked.

  ‘Bloopy?’

  ‘Y’know, when you’re all kind of … woooo.’ I took a step forward and the ground spiralled.

  ‘Whoops, here we go.’ Felix caught hold of me and pulled me against him. ‘That was quick.’

  ‘What’s happening?’ I had to force the words out past an unco-operative tongue which felt like a lump of Spam squatting in my mouth. ‘Oh. Tired now.’

  ‘Okay.’ With one arm wrapped around my waist, Felix began towing me towards the motel entrance. ‘You’ll be fine by the morning. It’s only half a tablet, just to make sure you get a good night’s sleep.’

  His words floated into my brain, almost without meaning. ‘A wha’?’ I asked drowsily.

  ‘Sleepers.’ Felix spoke into my ear. ‘I brought them just in case. You’ll be fine,’ he repeated. ‘Wouldn’t give you anything that would do you any harm, even with alcohol. Some of us know what we’re doing, drugwise.’

  ‘Skye?’ Another voice, sounding annoyed. ‘What’s up now?’

  ‘It’s all right.’ Felix changed his hold on me but I felt another hand move my hair away from my face. ‘She’s just off to bed.’

  ‘Skye?’ It was Jack. I knew he was talking to me but I couldn’t raise the energy to answer. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Bed,’ I echoed Fe sleepily.

  Jack’s face came into sudden focus; he must have crouched down in front of me. ‘I’d have to know you a lot better first,’ he said, quietly and, despite the alcohol and sleeping tablet, I felt a little shiver kick at my stomach. ‘I’ll probably see you in the morning, before it all starts off. If you need anything, you know where I am.’

  ‘What time do we have to be there?’ Felix tightened
his grip on my waist. It almost hurt.

  ‘If you’d been in the diner, you’d have heard.’ Jack sounded sharp.

  ‘Skye needed some fresh air.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Not altogether accepting. ‘Starts at eleven. Entrants need to be seated by half-ten, so they can be checked over for any cheat sheets.’ A cool hand on my forehead. ‘Why? Are you entering?’

  ‘Skye is.’

  I’m what? I thought, but nothing inside me would respond. Not curiosity, not nerves, nothing. It was worse than Valium, at least that just deadened the world. Whatever Felix had given me had killed it.

  ‘Better get her to bed then.’

  ‘Off now.’ Then, cheekily, ‘Don’t suppose you want to join us?’

  A half-laugh, fading into the night. ‘Wrong guy.’

  I think I might have passed out, because the next thing I knew was Felix rolling me up in the duvet and switching out the light. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

  ‘Bu’ …’ I managed to get one eye open. ‘Where …?’

  Silhouetted in the doorway, Felix grinned. ‘You’ll sleep ’til morning, don’t worry. And while you are sleeping, Mr White is, shall we say, going to be gaining a certain grubbiness.’

  Chapter Ten

  He couldn’t sleep. There were still people wandering around the motel, singles looking for a chat, a drinking partner, a bedmate, and a few couples and groups talking in the earnest way that told him they were discussing the show rather than current affairs or last night’s TV.

  Jack didn’t particularly want to be alone, but keeping company with a bottle of Jack Daniels was out of the question and any kind of human company would come with questions he wasn’t willing to answer; to distract himself he fetched his keys and let himself into the prop store which was a posh name for a tin shed at the side of the motel. From the looks of it the kitchen staff used it to store jars and bottled goods, which had been shoved into a chaotic, rolling mass at the back of the shed to make way for the Shadow Fighter and some random articles from the set – a rack of costumes, some blaster rifles and a trunk which had the words Marketing Dept stencilled on the side.