Chapter 5
5
The photographers arrive in a trickle. At first there’s just one guy with a camera round his neck, lurking on the pavement nearby, and then another one arrives, greeting him like an old friend, and then another and another until there’s five or six out there. It’s only been a couple of hours since the wine-throwing clip was uploaded online and already they’ve tracked down where Kieran is staying. It’s creepy.
‘You need to stand back from the window,’ Kieran tells me crossly for the hundredth time. ‘They’ll see the blinds move.’
‘I don’t understand how they worked out where you are!’ I exclaim, dropping the blind. ‘How do they know?’
‘Because people tell,’ Kieran says bitterly. ‘One of your neighbours must have seen me and spread the word. Probably when you wouldn’t let me in and insisted we talk loudly through the door. It wasn’t exactly subtle.’
‘Oh, so this is my fault?’ I huff, glaring at him.
‘You did throw the wine and then refuse to open the door. I warned you at the pub that this would happen.’
‘You are unbelievable,’ I snap, as I start moving back and forth across the room. ‘And I do not mean that as a compliment.’
‘I didn’t think you did.’ He watches me march away from the window and back again, chewing my thumbnail. ‘Can you please stop pacing? It’s irritating.’
I narrow my eyes at him. ‘No, I will not stop pacing, Kieran, thank you very much. Because of your fan base out there, I’m cooped up in here and I can’t just sit around while people talk about me online.’
‘The paparazzi are not my fan base,’ he informs me in a low, cutting voice, glancing instinctively at the window. ‘If anything, they’re the exact opposite. Waiting to tear me down at the first opportunity.’
‘Have you seen what they’re saying about me?’
‘I told you not to look at your phone,’ he says a little softer than usual, a hint of something apologetic in his voice. ‘It’s better to ignore it.’
‘They’re calling me an “unknown blonde”! And your “new lover”.’ I grimace, cringing at having to say it out loud. ‘Why would they say that?! We only just met!’
‘You threw a drink at me. Not many people would do that to someone they don’t know.’
‘You made me cross!’
‘I know.’
‘I don’t normally throw drinks at people! In fact, that was my first time!’
He sighs, rubbing his forehead and shutting his eyes for a moment. There’s an increase of noise and commotion outside and Kieran snaps his head up.
‘That will finally be Neil arriving,’ he announces, pushing himself up off the sofa and heading out the room to get the door.
When it opens, I can hear the reporters shouting over one another with their persistent questions: ‘Neil, can you tell us what happened at the pub?’; ‘Who’s Kieran’s new girlfriend, Neil?’; ‘Are you worried that this will affect his performance at Wimbledon?’; ‘Is it serious? What’s her name, Neil?’
The door shuts and their voices are silenced. I press a hand over my mouth. This is mortifying. Absolutely mortifying. I’ve got a couple of missed calls from Iris, and I know that she must have seen it by now and recognised me from the video. It won’t be long until a lot of people I know will do the same. God, why did I have to throw that wine at him and make a spectacle of myself? Why did I lose my temper? Why did I let him get to me?
I blame Kieran. If he hadn’t been so rude, none of this would have happened.
At that moment he comes back in the room followed by Neil, who Kieran has explained is his coach. If I’d seen Neil walking down a street, I might have thought he looked familiar but I doubt I would have been able to place him. When Kieran said that Neil Damon would be coming over to help with some damage control, he seemed confused at my blank expression and repeated his name as though that might help. Neil Damon. I told him it was ringing a bell, but I’d need some help. Looking a little perturbed, he reminded me that Neil Damon was a famous American tennis player, now retired. He won Wimbledon twice.
Neil is much shorter than I expected. I assumed all tennis players were muscled giants, but Neil is about five foot eight. He’s good-looking, with dark greying hair, soft brown eyes and a stern expression. For some reason I thought he’d be wearing a tracksuit, because in my head that’s just what tennis coaches wear, but he’s in an expensive-looking tailored suit and tie, with a leather bag slung over his shoulder. As he enters the room, I smile timidly at him. He does not smile back.
‘You must be Flora,’ he says gruffly.
‘Hi, it’s nice to meet you.’
He studies me for a moment. I fiddle with the hem of my crop top.
‘Nice to meet you too,’ he says icily. He holds out the bag to Kieran. ‘The change of clothes you requested. Sorry I couldn’t get here sooner. Have you spoken to anyone?’
Kieran shakes his head. ‘Just you.’
Neil turns to me. ‘And… Miss Hendrix?’
He looks at me expectantly. I glance at Kieran, confused.
‘She hasn’t spoken to anyone,’ Kieran answers. ‘I don’t think.’
‘That’s something. Makes things a little easier if we take control of the narrative. Not exactly the start I had in mind for your tenure here, Kieran,’ Neil scolds, his tone clipped.
Kieran tenses. ‘It wasn’t mine either, Neil. The news stories aren’t accurate. Flora and I met today and… there was a miscommunication at the pub.’
‘Yes, well it looks a lot more intimate than a mere miscommunication,’ Neil seethes, moving to the other side of the room. ‘What message do you think this gives your competitors, hm? I thought you wanted to be a serious threat this year.’
‘I don’t need a lecture,’ Kieran snaps. He glances at me. ‘This isn’t the time to talk.’
‘Uh… why don’t I leave you guys to it,’ I suggest, making my way through the middle of them so I can exit the room. I stop at the doorway to appeal to Neil. ‘It really was a miscommunication. I’m sorry it happened.’
Neil doesn’t say anything, staring at the floor with a tense expression. I take the hint and hurry out, shutting myself away safely in the bedroom. Shit. This is bad. My day has officially gone from terrible to fucking disastrous. As if I didn’t have enough to worry about, I’m now a meme. I lean back against the door and close my eyes, wondering if I should consider never leaving this room again. I could just curl up under the duvet and wait there for all these problems to go away. The paparazzi will leave, Kieran and Neil will leave, the meme will eventually disappear, and I can go back to being a nobody.
My phone vibrates and when I see that it’s Iris, I decide to pick up. I’ve ignored her long enough.
‘Hey,’ I answer quietly.
‘OH HI,’ she cries so loudly, I have to hold the phone away from my ear momentarily. ‘You FINALLY decide to pick up.’
‘Yeah, sorry, it’s been… busy.’
‘Flora, what the FUCK?! Why is there a video of you on social media throwing a glass of wine in the face of Kieran O’Sullivan?’
I dig my teeth into my bottom lip.
‘Uh… that’s not me?’ I attempt pitifully.
‘Yes it bloody well is,’ she counters breathlessly. ‘Do you know him? Why wouldn’t you tell me this? What is going on?’
I take a deep breath. ‘Okay, off the record?’
‘Fuck’s sake, Flora, obviously off the record. When do we speak ON the record?’
‘Good point.’ I rub my forehead with my free hand, a dull ache forming on one side. ‘You know how I rented out my flat for the next few weeks? It turns out that it’s Kieran O’Sullivan who has rented it.’
‘You’re joking. You’re JOKING. Is this a joke?’
‘No. It’s not.’
‘Oh my God!’
‘I know. He arrived here earlier than he should have done and so he left, and then you know how you told me to go to the pub? I ended up at the same one he’d gone to. I wasn’t stalking him, though. It was by accident.’
‘Okay…’
‘Then we got into an argument and I threw my drink at him.’
‘Flora! I mean, I would say I don’t believe you, but I’ve seen the bloody evidence online! This is madness. Kieran O’Sullivan! What’s he like?’ she asks eagerly.
‘You know how everyone thinks he’s a dick?’
‘Yeah?’
‘He’s a dick.’
‘Ah. Hence the wine throwing.’
I nod, gripping the phone. ‘Iris, there are reporters outside my door.’
‘Shit. They found you quickly. Not surprising though. The video has gone viral and they’re good at their job. Have you spoken to them?’
‘Obviously not. I want them to go away as soon as possible. I don’t want people thinking I’m Kieran O’Sullivan’s latest conquest,’ I mutter, grimacing. ‘It’s so embarrassing.’
‘I don’t know, Flora, maybe that’s a good thing.’
‘You what now?’
She giggles. ‘Can you imagine Jonah’s face when he sees this? Fucking idiot, he’s going to lose his head thinking you’re dating a world-famous tennis player. And the tennis player in question happens to be sexy as hell.’
I chew on my thumbnail. I can’t pretend like it hadn’t crossed my mind that Jonah might see the video. It was, in fact, one of the first thoughts I had when it started spreading across the internet like wildfire. I couldn’t work out if it was a good or a bad thing that he might be left under the impression that I’m dating Kieran. I guess it’s a good thing so long as he doesn’t think I’m throwing the wine at Kieran’s face because I’m being dumped by him.
‘Flora, you still there?’ Iris checks.
‘Yeah, I just… I’m trying to get my head round how to play this.’
‘No-brainer. Let the world think you’re an item. Better that way in the eyes of your tragic ex-boyfriend and your landlord.’
I hesitate. ‘My landlord?’
‘Yeah,’ she says, as though it’s obvious. ‘You don’t want him thinking you’ve rented out the flat to a tennis player, right? I thought you said to me a while ago when you were first thinking about renting out the place for the tournament that you weren’t sure if that was allowed in the terms of the lease. Did you ever check?’
My blood runs cold. ‘Uh.’
‘Okay, look, if the paparazzi are already at your flat, then the cat’s out the bag. They’ll photograph Kieran leaving or coming home at some point, and if the landlord sees, he might put two and two together. Better for him to think that Kieran’s your boyfriend. You don’t want to risk him kicking you out.’
‘Iris,’ I squeak, my throat constricting, ‘I have to go.’
‘Okay, but don’t ignore me! I want to hear about what happens!’
I promise her I’ll keep in touch and then hang up, my heart hammering against my chest. Shit, shit, shit. I hadn’t even thought about my stupid tenancy agreement! HOW had I not thought of that?! I don’t want to lose this flat, not yet. It’s the one place I feel safe right now.
Spinning around, I swing open my door and hurry into the living room. Kieran is nowhere to be seen and Neil is lurking by the window, typing furiously into his phone. He glances up at me, unimpressed, as I walk in, then returns his attention to his screen.
‘Hi,’ I say briskly, my hands growing clammy, ‘where’s Kieran?’
‘He’s taking a shower,’ Neil says distractedly. ‘I know we don’t have the flat until five, but since you two are already so well acquainted, we thought it would be all right.’
‘I need to speak to him,’ I say, ignoring his pointed remark.
He grunts in response, his eyes fixed to his screen.
Frustrated, I go to the bathroom and knock loudly on the door. ‘Kieran? Kieran, you have to leave.’
No answer. With an impatient huff, I hammer my fist against it.
‘Kieran, I know you’re in there! Did you hear me? You have to get out!’
‘I’ll be five minutes,’ he calls out, irritably. ‘I’m about to shower.’
‘No, I don’t mean you have to get out the bathroom,’ I hiss, trying to keep my voice down so Neil can’t hear me. ‘I’m talking about the flat. You have to go.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you have to,’ I seethe, glancing down the hallway to the living room door. ‘I’ll explain, but I can’t through the door.’
‘Why not? You made a point of making me talk through the door earlier.’
OH MY GOD. There are so many tennis players in the world. Why does the one renting my flat have to be the most INSUFFERABLE one of all?! Attempting to remain as collected and calm as possible, I glare at the door.
‘Please,’ I say through gritted teeth.
As painful as it is to say out loud, the right word does the trick. The door swings open so suddenly that I stumble forwards, catching myself and regaining my balance by grabbing hold of the side of the doorframe. Kieran is standing in front of me shirtless, holding a towel round his waist. Stunned into silence, I stare shamelessly at his insanely muscular bare torso, my eyes roaming down his solid tanned chest and perfectly sculpted abs.
I swallow.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asks impatiently.
‘Everything okay in there?’ Neil calls out from the living room.
‘Yes, all fine thanks,’ I squeak in a much higher-pitched voice than normal, stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door behind me. Kieran looks bewildered.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I don’t want Neil to overhear but we have to talk,’ I whisper, trying to keep my eyes firmly on his and not let them wander downwards, no matter how tempting. ‘There’s been a problem and I appreciate you don’t want to leave but you definitely need to find somewhere else to stay for the next few weeks. Sorry.’
He sighs, lifting his eyes to the ceiling. ‘I told you before I’m not leaving. I can help you find somewhere else to go if you like, but—’
‘No, it’s not that. There are going to be photos of you staying here in the press.’
‘So?’
‘So, if my landlord sees, he might think I’ve let out the flat for Wimbledon, which is against the rules of my lease.’
He stares at me, his brow furrowed.
‘But you have let out the flat for Wimbledon,’ he says eventually.
‘Yes, I’m aware of that, thank you,’ I seethe, going to lean casually on the heated towel rail and then flinching when it instantly burns my hand.
Realisation dawns on him and his eyes widen with interest. ‘You broke the rules.’
I glare at him, heat rising up my neck at being caught out. ‘I wasn’t sure of the rules. It might be fine, but I don’t think it is. Do you know how high rent is for this place? I’m temping at the moment; cash isn’t exactly flowing in. It’s not like he’d be affected by someone else crashing here for a few weeks! He’d get his rent on time as usual so I didn’t think it would be a problem. I didn’t think he’d ever find out.’
Kieran listens to my rambling with a set expression, no hint of compassion.
‘So, when the tabloids run the photos of me coming in and out of the house, you’re worried he’ll see those and work out your con,’ he says slowly.
‘It’s not a con! I’m not some kind of criminal mastermind.’
‘But you are committing a crime.’
My mouth drops open in disbelief. ‘It is not… it’s… I… you…’
He arches a brow and a hint of a smile plays across his lips. I exhale in fury.
‘You are so mean,’ I hiss.
‘Don’t worry, I don’t plan on ratting you out to the police,’ he says coolly. ‘But I’m afraid I won’t be giving up the flat. I like it here on Lingfield Road.’
There’s a knock on the bathroom door and I freeze at the sound of Neil clearing his throat from the other side. Kieran’s eyebrows shoot up.
‘Kieran? Miss Hendrix?’ he says, sounding uneasy. ‘Are you… both in there?’
My head held high, I open the door. Neil’s eyes scan from my fixed smile to Kieran’s current state of undress. His jaw clenches.
‘I don’t mean to interrupt,’ he says, his voice clipped and cold.
‘It’s fine, we were… talking,’ I stammer, glancing at Kieran who remains unfazed. ‘I’m afraid there’s a problem.’
Neil frowns. ‘What is it?’
‘Kieran can no longer stay here,’ I say bluntly. ‘He’ll have to find somewhere else. Sorry about the mix-up, but there’s nothing I can do. I have to stay in the flat.’
‘What happened?’ Neil asks, puzzled.
‘I… uh… well, you see… I…’
‘The roof of Flora’s holiday cottage in the Lake District collapsed and she has nowhere to go,’ Kieran cuts in. ‘I was just telling her that we could help her out. Find her a nice hotel room or something, right?’
Neil eyes Kieran suspiciously. ‘I suppose.’
‘Perfect. That’s decided then,’ Kieran concludes.
‘No, I don’t want a hotel room,’ I tell Neil, trying to remain as polite as possible in front of a legendary Wimbledon champion, but already bristling at Kieran’s attempt to take control of the situation. ‘I have to stay here. Kieran, you’ll have to leave.’
‘Why do you have to stay here, Flora?’ he asks, acting confused, knowing full well I don’t want to admit the hiccup about my lease in front of Neil.
‘Because this is my home,’ I say through gritted teeth. ‘Why can’t you go stay in a luxury hotel room yourself? Surely that would be much more suitable accommodation for a Wimbledon competitor.’
‘I’m afraid that I’ve already outlined to you why that’s not possible,’ he states simply. ‘I won’t be leaving here. That’s final.’
‘Then we have a very big problem, because I won’t be leaving here either,’ I retort.
‘You can’t kick me out. I’ve already paid the full let and you needed to give me much more notice, legally.’
‘Well, you can’t kick me out because I live here,’ I clap back, my blood boiling.
‘Then, it looks like we’re both staying.’
‘Fine!’
‘Fine. We’re both staying,’ he states.
I blink at him. ‘Wait, what?’
‘You know what,’ Neil interjects, his eyes darting between the two of us, ‘let me have our lawyers glance through the terms and conditions of the lease and—’
‘No need for that,’ Kieran says, while my breath catches in panic. ‘She can have the sofa.’
Neil looks at him, forcing a nervous laugh. ‘I’m sorry, Kieran? I don’t think I heard you correctly.’
‘No lawyers,’ Kieran states firmly to Neil. ‘For now, if neither of us can leave, Flora can stay on the sofa until we work out a better solution.’ He turns to address me. ‘However much I’d like to be chivalrous, I think while I’m training for Wimbledon I should sleep on a mattress. If at all possible, I’d like to compete at the biggest tennis tournament in the world without a cricked neck.’
I gape at him. Neil is doing the same.
‘Good, that’s settled,’ Kieran says calmly, gesturing to the door. ‘Now, if you both don’t mind, I’d like to take a shower. The smell of rosé is making me feel a bit nauseous.’
At a loss as to what else to do, Neil and I file out of the bathroom in silence. Kieran shuts the door firmly behind us and moments later, we hear the sound of running water. We stand in the hallway, both deep in thought. Neil eventually saunters off towards the front door. He turns to shoot me one last venomous look and then leaves, temporarily filling the flat with the frenzied sound of the paparazzi waiting in great anticipation to find out what is going on here.
Although that really is anyone’s guess.