Chapter 17
JAKE
As the bus pulled away from the hotel’s reception, Halle and I stood in front of each other in silence.
I’d lost count of how many times she’d thanked me for catching her during the journey back to the hotel and each time she did I told her the same thing: it really wasn’t a big deal.
I saw that she was about to fall and I caught her.
I insisted that anyone would’ve done the same thing if they were in my position.
That was when she reminded me that her campmates had no problem standing back and laughing when they saw her fall.
She had a point. My statement had suggested that all people were good, when I knew from first-hand experience that they weren’t. So I’d corrected myself by saying that it’d take a special kind of jerk to leave a good woman to fall to the ground without trying to help her.
Halle had nodded in agreement before launching into a full-on account of how much she’d enjoyed the horse riding (up until she’d fallen off) and what a buzz she’d gotten from seeing the views of the city.
She probably spoke to me more in that one ride back here than she had in the whole time we’d been at the hotel.
But I wasn’t complaining. And as tempted as I was to say that maybe we’d turned a corner (I mean, we even took a photo together), I wasn’t gonna jinx it, because for all I knew, tomorrow she’d be back to hating me again.
Which meant that instead of staring into her pretty brown eyes and wondering if her lips were as soft as they looked (something I’d done way too many times already today), I was gonna go back to my room and… well, I didn’t know what I was gonna do yet, but it wouldn’t involve thinking about Halle.
‘So I should get back…’ I said.
‘Yeah, me too.’ Halle said. ‘I’m bursting for the loo. Sorry. TMI. You didn’t need to know that I need to wee.’
‘Speaking of that, what’s the fascination you Brits have with taking a leak?’
‘Eh?’ She frowned and I started to wonder why instead of going to my room like I’d planned, I was still choosing to have a conversation with her. And one about urinating. Jeez. I really needed to work on my conversational skills.
Well, I guess I’d taken a turn down this alley, so I had to see it through.
‘You talk about pissing a lot. I mean, we talk about being pissed off here too, but one of my British friends, or should I say, my mate,’ I said in a terrible English accent, ‘taught me a lot more.’
‘Go on then,’ she grinned and suddenly I didn’t regret my choice of subject after all. ‘Let’s see how many references you can remember.’
‘Sure thing!’ I mirrored her amusement before puffing out my chest like I was ready for battle. ‘Okay, so there’s taking a piss, not to be confused with the teasing phrase: taking the piss.’
‘Well done,’ she clapped.
‘Then you have a lot of drinking-related ones, right? Like being on the piss, having a piss-up and being or getting pissed, which is when you’re drunk.’
‘Correct.’ Halle’s smile widened.
‘Did I get them all?’
‘Not quite. There’s the weather one – so when it’s raining you can say it’s pissing it down.’
‘That’s kinda gross.’ I winced.
‘I don’t make the rules,’ she chuckled. ‘And then there’s pissing around, which is when you’re wasting time, or pissing away something, so you’d use that to say you’re wasting an opportunity or something.
Hmmm, what else?’ She paused as she racked her brains.
‘Oh, yeah! There’s also piss-take, which is like when something’s ridiculous, like, “Fifty dollars for a bit of mince? That’s a piss-take! ”’
‘Not if it’s prime beef mince though, right?’ I teased, remembering our conversation about my ‘beefy’ arms.
‘Right. In that case, the beef would be worth every cent…’
Her eyes dropped to my arms and when I caught her biting her lip, I had to admit that I enjoyed knowing that she liked my arms. If ogling them is what it took to get her to smile, I’d take it.
‘I should…’ She broke the silence.
‘Go and take a piss?’ I lifted an eyebrow.
‘You taking the piss?’ she joked and the sound of her laugh was almost as thrilling as watching the way her face lit up when she smiled. ‘No, seriously,’ she started jiggling around on the spot, ‘I really need to go. Bye!’ Halle ran off. ‘And thanks again, Hero!’
And with that, she was gone.
Hero, huh?
I had to admit, as nicknames went, that wasn’t a bad one.
I walked back to my room with a spring in my step and a stupid grin on my face.
Today was one of the best days I’d had in ages. I actually felt… good. I loved being out in nature and being back on a horse, but it was about more than that. As much as I didn’t like to admit it, I’d enjoyed spending time with Halle.
She wasn’t the hard, cold woman I’d first thought she was. She had a softer side. But for some reason she didn’t like to show it. It was like she had her walls up. There was a hundred-foot-tall fortress surrounding her and she didn’t want to let anyone in. But why? Had someone hurt her?
Halle had mentioned before that she’d stayed in the US because she’d met someone. I wondered what happened.
I didn’t get the chance to try and dissect Halle’s past any more because my cell vibrating in my pocket snapped me out of my thoughts.
It didn’t take a genius to work out who was calling. I’d avoided her all day, but it was time to face the music.
After opening my room door, then closing it again, I pulled my cell out and hit the green accept call button.
‘Wilma,’ I said flatly.
‘Where the fuck have you been?’ she snapped. ‘Why haven’t you been answering my calls and why haven’t you posted more photos?’
I rubbed my temples then flopped down onto the bed.
‘I posted this morning.’
‘Yeah. Some shit picture of an empty beach.’
‘It wasn’t shit. It was pretty.’
‘People aren’t following you for pictures of the goddamn beach! They want to see you and your match. Why the hell haven’t you posted any pictures of this chick yet? Is she ugly?’
‘No!’ I said quickly, thinking about how damn beautiful she was. I used to think I didn’t have a type. But now I was worried that Halle was exactly the kind of woman I’d like to be with.
What the fuck?
That was clearly my dick talking. I had no interest in being with any woman right now. My priority was to get my life in order.
‘She’s… not ugly,’ I said, trying to keep my voice measured.
‘Well, why the hell haven’t you posted any photos of her then?
If she’s really pretty then we could get some endorsement deals.
I’m thinking couples holiday resorts, jewellery companies…
you could become the new Victoria and David Beckham.
The possibilities are endless!’ Excitement fizzed in her tone.
‘That’s…’ I was about to say that was never gonna happen, but I needed to keep Wilma on side. ‘The reason I haven’t posted any photos of her is because she doesn’t like having her photo taken.’
‘What?’
‘She doesn’t even use social media.’
‘What the actual fuck?’ She gasped like I’d just told her that Halle was born in outer space and looked like a three-headed green alien. ‘Who doesn’t use social media?’
‘Well, up until a few days ago, me,’ I reminded her.
The handful of posts that I had before were made by my management or someone else on my team, but not by me. I hated that shit. Which was why what Wilma wanted me to do was so freaking painful.
‘This is insane! You must have at least one photo with her!’
‘Nope,’ I lied.
Thanks to the photos Sammie had taken, I now had several. Plus, there were the ones Aidan took of us on the horses today, which I’d forgotten to check, but there was no way I was posting those.
For whatever reason, Halle didn’t like having her photo taken or having a social media presence.
I was hoping that wasn’t because she was a criminal mastermind on the run (joking – despite her attempts to act tough, I doubted Halle would hurt a fly).
But just because I didn’t know why, it didn’t mean I had the right to put her photo online without her permission.
‘You need to do better, Jakey boy.’ Wilma said and I cringed at the nickname. It was so condescending.
‘Maybe if you’d arranged for me to be set up with someone who wanted to raise their profile like you’d promised, I wouldn’t be in this mess,’ I snapped back.
‘Everyone wants to be famous!’ Wilma spat, ignoring my comment.
I disagreed. If I could sing and make music without the fame, I’d do it in a heartbeat, but they worked hand in hand. In order to make a decent living, people needed to know who you were and if they knew who you were, they would always want more. More photos, more access, more of everything.
‘I can tell you with absolute certainty that she doesn’t.’
‘You just need to be more convincing!’ Wilma countered.
‘Everyone has their price. Give me her name and I’ll do some digging.
Maybe she’s got debts to pay off or skeletons in her closet.
Once we know what she needs or what she’s hiding, we can wear her down.
I’m sure a big cheque will make her forget about her silly little photo and social media aversion.
Get some photos of her posted by tomorrow or kiss goodbye to any chance you have of reviving your career. ’
Before I even had a chance to argue, Wilma hung up.
Shit.
Wilma was asking for Halle’s name. She was contemplating doing some digging on her.
And I could tell from her tone that she wasn’t playing.
That was bad. Very, very bad.
It looked like I had two choices: continue to refuse to post photos of Halle which would lead to Wilma digging up some secrets that maybe Halle didn’t want uncovered. Or posting photos of Halle and risking her wrath and destroying whatever small part of trust I’d built with her today.
Neither option was a good one.
Whatever way I looked at it, I was well and truly fucked.