Chapter 10
Chapter
Ten
Iknow the meeting is about me. After my shower, I drag my laptop out and check the internet. It seems a bit devoid of haters and I wonder if Jonno has been about his job. Probably. The man is prolific on the internet. He did, after all, manage to hide James and me for eighteen years.
After last night’s ups and downs, I’ve had time to think things through and again have decided bollocks to it. I’m doing what I want for my son. In six months I’ll be old news. A footnote to the Marcus Russell extravaganza.
Well, probably not even six months, more like three months actually. I’m sure Kellen will be bored very shortly and desperate to cop off with someone else, even though he’s asked that we be a couple.
It was again whilst we were having wild sex. It”s a novelty at the minute for him. But when reality sets in, he’ll be off. I’ll probably be fed up with his crap at that point too. It’s hard work, ignoring the obvious looks and jabs of former lovers, a struggle maintaining my positive outlook, and rising above all the shit that seems to swirl and swell around them. I”ll be happy to wave at him on his way out.
He walks back in, a determined look on his face. “All ok?” I ask nonchalantly.
“Yep, all good. Get your gear on, we’re off to do some of the sights.”
I’m surprised. I didn’t think anyone would think that was a good idea. And apparently my face betrays my shock.
“You want to go and see the sights, so we are. No one will expect us to go out today, so let’s go.” His tone is a bit aggressive, but not really directed at me, clearly at other people. I jump up and get moving before someone changes their minds and sees sense.
We spend an amazing day as regular tourists in Las Vegas. The fountains, Madame Tussauds, a gondola ride, observation decks—we get to see them all. I’ve put my hair up in a bun and added sunglasses and a big floppy sun hat. Not that I expect anyone to know me, just to try to not draw attention.
He’s tried to disguise himself with a baseball cap and mirrored sunglasses. But he’s too good looking. I see people stare at us before they even know who he might be. He just draws the eye.
It’s not until late in the afternoon, as we’re sitting in a diner he likes, that someone recognises him. When they realise who I am, I get a bit of attention and people are congratulating us. It’s the weirdest thing for people you don’t know to make such a fuss. They’re all supportive, asking general stuff about our relationship. I can’t believe how invested people get in strangers. I pose for photos and smile until my face aches. Someone even tells me I’m prettier than the photos they’ve seen. I say thank you, not sure what else you can say to that.
As the crowds get bigger, our security moves in and amicably moves people on. Most move on once they’ve spoken to us, excited to have spoken to Kell. I can only hope the evening will go as well. Then I can go back to Devon and fall back into obscurity.
We get back to the hotel with time to spare to get ready to go out again. All the girls are in our suite, drinking and laughing like hyenas. They look like they’ve spent the day here, if the glassy eyes, red cheeks and slurring words between the manic laughter are anything to go by. I smile at them all on entry, dropping my hat and bag on the floor and flopping into a comfy chair.
“Good day?” asks Grace, not smiling but looking at me all the while.
“Yeah, Vegas is fab. You should have come, we did all the main stuff.” I’m totally gushing now, telling them all the sights we’ve been too. Doing impressions of Kell trying to punt the gondola, claiming he was a pro as he went to Oxford and punting was a must skill. I finish off with, “Was so weird though at the end, we got spotted in this diner and?—”
“You mean Marcus got spotted,” corrects Becky.
“Well, yes, of course,” I’m taken aback by the spite in her voice. As they all look at each other, a collective smirk passes between them, but I carry on. “My face aches from smiling for photos.” I try to laugh, pulling a silly face, making a joke out of it.
“What a hardship,” I hear Grace say under her breath.
I frown at that. What’s going on?
“Why did he decide to marry you, has he said?” Tiff asks and they all look expectantly at me.
“Err…” I’m a bit speechless at this point.
Unfortunately Tiff isn’t. And all of the women’s focus and negative energy hits me in the chest. “I mean, not being bitchy, but he could have married any of us, anytime. And I mean look at us all.” She sweeps her arm around the assembled women. Beautiful, made up to perfection, dressed to the nines. “We,” she gestures to herself and Bells, “were always available and willing. So why now? And why you?”
I practically feel their eyes going up and down my body. My eyebrows go up towards my hairline. What the hell is going on here?
With the authority of the longest standing girlfriend, Becky adds, “Levi says it must be for the headlines it’ll generate.”
“Kenny thinks it’s publicity for the label. And the new album they’ve got coming out,” Grace puts in.
What the fuck? ‘Not being bitchy,’ my arse. She’s only met this lot once. Now she’s a fucking authority figure. Clearly they’ve been discussing it all day, as well as drinking, amongst everything else.
“Love, passion, wants to spend his life with me, any of that considered?” I ask sarcastically. They all start to laugh. That’s a ‘no’ then.
“He never even got you a proper ring, just some small red band. Probably going to annul the marriage when he gets home,” slams Tiff.
“No engagement ring, no massive diamond. He clearly couldn’t be bothered to even plan it properly. Or spend any money on you. Cheap and cheerful,” Bells sneers. They all smirk at her in agreement.
“What is wrong with you all? You all seemed happy for me yesterday, and now you’re slagging me off. Grace, what’s wrong with you? You were getting into a fight for me yesterday and now you’re going along with this shit?” I’m trying not to get upset, but feel I may be failing. I feel like a rug is being whipped out from underneath me.
She shrugs and looks away. “The girls and I have been talking, comparing notes. They’ve told me all about him, the real him, how they know him so well, whilst you—” She wafts her hand at me dismissively. “They know how he is with women, they can handle him. In fact, they’ve already all handled him. What he does to them, how he operates, how much he likes it.
“I told them all about the Chateau, what he did to you there. How he treated you, how you handled that. Or didn’t handle it, to be honest. How disposable and interchangeable you were. Anyone will do. I just don’t believe he loves you. But don’t worry, you’ll be back on your building sites in no time.”
I am flabbergasted. I stand and stare at them all. “I intend to be back on my building sites as soon as possible, regardless of Kell. Or our marriage. It’s my job. That I love.” They’ve lost their minds. What is all this crap? “Great chat girls, thanks for all the moral support, can’t wait to return the favour.”
I spin on my heels and walk out of the living area and into our bedroom, my head held high while I’m reeling on the inside from the bullshit they’re spewing. But I also know it isn’t really bullshit. Well, not all of it. But it is in the past. They are all in the past, I tell myself.
My ring, they have no idea. Kell could hardly get the words out when he gave it to me at the Registry Office. Keeping with our radio silence, I didn’t put it on then. But now, here in Vegas, we’re out in the open, loud and proud.
Sure it isn”t a huge diamond, but it’s so much more than that. A ring with rare red diamonds and the finest rubies, interwoven on a platinum band. The symbolism for us both is breathtaking.
It represents a red string, or should I say the red string theory. The idea that two people are connected and destined as lovers. Regardless of place, time or circumstance. The idea is that the thread gets tangled and twisted, knotted and stretched, but never breaks. Time never changes it.
And here we are. Eighteen years apart. But time is not the only factor. Lives lived, experiences, different continents. The wrong pub. Amazing fate.
I sit on my bed, spinning my ‘hoop’ around my finger. Thinking about Kellen, then and now. How I see the boy in the man. Fair enough, at times over the past seven months I had to look closely, but I spot him more regularly now than when I first reconnected with him. Then it was just a glimpse here and there. But now he is present in glorious technicolour.
Since we reconnected I feel like I go two steps forward and three steps back, but I’ve agreed to it, agreed to him. So, I carry on getting ready to go out. The very glam grey silk, plunging neckline, full-length dress I’ve chosen is not only a dress, but armour. Boy am I going to need it tonight.
People are coming at me left right and centre, even those I thought might provide a safe haven. People who understand a little of what it’s like, getting involved with men like these. I can’t say it hasn’t affected me. It has, especially Grace. The others I suppose I don’t really know that well. Gabe’s two women, fair enough, what could I expect. I’d hit a few home runs with them. I thought Becky was a friend, albeit a new one and being in the same boat a bit.
But now, clearly something is different for them. But I have no idea what I’ve done or said to them that would cause such a visceral reaction.
I literally paint a smile on my face, get my head up high and shoulders back as we all head out to the boxing. I’m determined I am not going to be the next punching bag for anyone.
The boxing atmosphere is febrile, the baying mob at its most excited. You just can’t help getting hyper on it. The guys have gone to sort their set out, and we girls are in a private box waiting for them to come on stage.
I notice Tiff Bells putting lines of coke out to snort. They’ve carried on drinking. I mean, why stop when you’ve been at it all day? Their stories are getting louder and wilder. Clearly they’re moving this night on at speed.
Becky surprises me, going over to snort a few lines, clearly not her first time. I try not to look, drugs are something I don’t do. If people want to, fine up to them, but not for me.
They’re talking and egging Grace on. I look over at her, catching her eye, and nod my head for her to come over. She has a fixed smile on her face, but brings me a drink. A peace offering?
Taking it from her, I say, “Don’t feel pressured, Grace. Do what you want, not what anyone else wants you to do.” I smile at her, going for camaraderie.
“Easy for you to say.”
My smile falters, and I pull a confused face at her attitude. “What? What do you mean?” I’m still trying to smile at her, but her face totally changes. Oh God, she’s going all Lauren on me.
“Well, you’re ‘married’ to a rock star. Set for life now. I’m a fucking school teacher. And whilst you’ll be going on to festivals and parties, I’ll be going back to my job.”
My face must be a picture of amazement. “Yes, and then I’m going back to my job.”
“Yeah, right,” she scoffs at me. “The girls have already told me what they do all day. Not a lot, apparently. Look at them. They look good and get ready to go at the men’s beck and call. That’s it. So don’t you try and tell me you’ll be different. Marcus is not going to wait around for you. The girls have told me how insatiable he is, and let’s be right, they actually know how insatiable he is.
“You’ll never hold him. And if you don’t go on the road, well, game over for you. Not that I think you have a chance anyway. There’ll always be someone else ready and willing to take your place. From the sounds of it, he’s always ready to go. And we both know he’s not fussy who it is, or how many. In fact, the more the merrier. And at least you and I know that first hand.”
I can’t believe my ears. I can’t believe my eyes at the venom pouring out of her. I choke out a sarcastic laugh, “Thanks for the top tips.” More bloody tips on how to hang onto my husband. “Do I have to worry about you, Grace, fucking my husband?”
She laughs in my face. “I totally would. And you’re stupid if you think anyone else here wouldn’t. He’s a total flirt and fuckboy, constantly flirting with all the girls here, he never fucking stops, even now. And we all know he’d be up for it. He’s up for anything, with however many of us want to get involved.”
I turn away. I will not cry, I will not cry. I step away from her, all my churning emotions shut down, my face totally blank, giving nothing away. I will give them nothing.
She sneers at me, spitting out, “Am I dismissed? Your highness.” She’s full of swagger and snark, dismissing me to walk over to Tiff. “I’ll give it a try, Tiff, what do I do?” Tiff sets the rolled up notes and demonstrates. They ask me and I just shake my head.
“You won’t see Evie Fucking Greystone doing drugs. Or should I say, Evie Fucking Russell,” Grace says with an edge in her voice.
They all laugh. What the hell has happened?
When did they turn into this? I only went sightseeing. Am I going to lose everyone in this charade? For this title, the fucking family Russell? I’m seething, my emotions all over the place. I can’t think straight. Every time, they take, take, take, more than you want to give.
I’m just about hanging onto my dignity and composure by my fingernails when I walk out of the box, signalling to Tommy to follow me.
I hear Marcus’s voice ring throughout the stadium. “Hey Vegassss, how the fuck are you? If you’re not drunk or high, what the fuck you been doing all day? IT’S VEGAS BABY!”
The music starts up and I blurt out, “Can we go, Tommy?” He studies my face for a second and then nods.
“Of course.” Ushering me into a car, we leave. No one tries to stop us, they’re all too busy with the band, drinking or getting high.
The car is deathly silent. I just sit there totally numb. Eventually, Tommy’s voice breaks the dam and pulls my eyes to his. “Do you want to talk about it? I don’t normally ask, Evie, but what’s going on?” He’s looking into the mirror at me, concern on his normally passive face.
I shake my head. “I can’t, Tom, I’ll cry, I need to leave. Can we get a plane, do you think? Even if it’s not theirs. Can we get one of our own? Ring Jonno.” I’m gathering momentum now, my brain moving at warp speed.
“Marcus will want to know. He’ll come with you.”
I huff out a laugh at that. “Yeah, of course. Let’s see shall we? Did anything happen at the hotel today? Has anyone said anything to you since we came back from sightseeing?” I’m grasping at straws, still totally perplexed with the arc of events.
“No one said anything. Gabe was in the suite all day with all the girls, the rest went up at intervals. But nothing happened out of the ordinary, as far as I know.”
“God, I’m sick of this already. Give me Devon any day.”
He laughs. “Every time. Jonno’s on the phone,” he adds.
“Why can’t they just do what I ask for once?” My voice is getting higher and higher, tension coursing through me. “Put him through, tell him he’s on speaker.”
“Why?” is all Jonno says.
“Jonno, can you get me one or not?”
“Not till you tell me why.”
I hang up.
Plan B, then: “Get Lori on the phone, Tommy, and get her to charter me one.” I know I’m being irrational, but I’m sick of people. If they’re not being nasty, they’re not doing as I ask. And I ask nicely. I’ve never once said a bad word to any of them, even the women that were at the cottage when I smashed it up. I’ve been friendly, nice. Well, my kindness is certainly being taken for weakness.
“It’s late in the UK, she’ll….”
“STOP THIS FUCKING CAR, Tommy and let me out. I’ll get my own fucking plane.” I’m pulling at the car door, and tears are coming now. “Get these fucking locks off.” I’m shouting like a person who’s lost all reason. Yanking on the car handles like a deranged woman.
“Evie whoa, whoa, let me get a safe stop.” He pulls over as I’m still pulling and screaming at the door.
I jump out of the car at the first opportunity, feeling like I’m going to pass out, and bend over with my hands on my knees. Tommy comes and holds me up.
“Get me a plane. Please.” I’m pleading with him.
I retch and can feel my stomach in knots. People should not be able to get to me like this. I should not allow it. But she was my friend, my only friend! Was it all a sham, like this marriage, and she’s gone as well? She meant every word, that much I know.
My brain runs in circles and I feel I have two choices here: Breakdown, which to be honest would feel fantastic just to let go, bawl my eyes out, scream at the moon. Lay on the floor battering my arms and legs like a toddler.
Or
Get myself together. Get home. Dump Marcus, ditching all the circus that surrounds him, and pick up whatever tatters of my life are left.
I need Marshall. I need my sons. I’m even more emotional as I think about them. But I can’t burden them with this. James will be mortified and guilt ridden if he saw this.
“Just sit here a second. Get your breath and let me sort a plane, okay? I never said I wouldn’t do it. I’ll sort it, Evie. Get in the car and we’ll go, kiddo.” Oh no, he’s calling me kiddo. That’s not good news, ever.
We make it back to the hotel and I feel a bit of a fool. I’ve allowed Grace Simpson to get to me. But she was my friend, is all my head keeps saying.
Tommy shuffles me into our suite inconspicuously and I pack my small amount of clothes. He tells me there’s a plane in an hour. I’ll have to share with someone, but only one other passenger. It’s the best he can get.
I know I’m running again, and I haven’t even told Kell what’s happened. To be honest, I don’t want to. I don’t have the capacity to deal with him. It’s obviously been all the girls, a total full steam ahead ‘hate on Evie’ fest. And clearly all the men have been just as bad, sticking their oars in and having their two penn’orth.
This is just not my life. I’ve observed them all, and whilst I’m trying not to judge their choices, I know it’s definitely not a life I want. None of them are married (not that that should make a difference), none of them do relationships (although I am beginning to wonder if that’s the issue here). Transient women, for transient men. Shallow, the lot of them. Living for now, saying they’re enjoying life to the max. Portraying the glamorous lifestyle everyone wants. Don’t they?
Well not me, nor do I ever want it.
I think back to the Vegas wedding. How I saw Becky giving Levi a hard time, trying to initially jokingly get him to the altar and then becoming more frantic. Bells onto Gabe, pulling and tugging at him, literally dragging him towards Elvis.
Maybe it pissed them all off. That the worst man in the group, whose mantra is totally one and done, the man who has set the tone for their lives since the age of twenty four, has suddenly decided to get married. Again. And worse, this time around has committed the cardinal sin—No fucking around. Found the sucker, and hey presto married her.
But they don’t know the real story, they only see the fa?ade. I must be the best actress in Britain. I”m nominating myself for a BAFTA.
But have I really been acting? He’s so easy to get involved with, which is why so many before me have. And wanted more when the curtain comes down on the twenty four hours. We all get involved with the Broadway show, the full on razzle dazzle for a few hours, because there’s nothing else there, nothing behind it. No genuine love, only the love that sells and promotes.
I don’t know what I should do, so I just carry on leaving. I have no one, not one person to talk to. My head says ‘don’t go, don’t give them the satisfaction.’ My heart says ‘get out now, you won’t survive.’
I sit with Tommy, my floppy hat covering over half my face, at the private airport lounge. My phone pings and a message comes in from James.
Sunshine
MUM, wtf. He is crazy
I look up at Tommy and show him the message. “What’s going on?” I ask, my voice totally dead.
“They’ve gone to a nightclub. The girls told them you were sick, and he got outvoted on going home. They all wanted to carry on with the press stuff.”
“Smart thinking. What’s he done at the club, fucked Grace and Gabe in public?”
Tommy raises his eyebrow at me.
“Yeah,” I say with a massive sigh.
Sunshine
click the link
He’s added a link to YouTube. I watch as a live stream comes up from the nightclub. Kell and Xan on stage in white dress shirts, sleeves rolled up, jeans hanging low on their hips, boots, looking drop dead gorgeous, every inch cocky rockstars. Xan has a guitar in his hands and Kellen is getting a microphone sorted.
“Hey Vegas,” he calls out, “how about a little song for you all?” The crowd is going wild in the club. “You all heard I got married here last night?” The club goers lose their minds, and he’s smiling into the crowd egging them all on. “I can’t hear you cheering for me.” They get even louder. “I fell in love with my wife when I was thirteen years old. She tried to drown me.” Both he and Xan laugh and high five each other. “This is for you Evie, I love you baby.”
Xan starts the guitar intro into a song and my heart stops beating. “Kiss Me” by Sixpence None The Richer. It’s about us. And when he sings changed lyrics of “I’ll wear those boots and you can wear that dress,” I really start to cry. Tommy holds me close, shielding me from the staff in the lounge. What a mess.
My sobs subside and I feel like an autumn leaf on the breeze—dried, all the moisture sucked out of it, being swished around until I’m so brittle I’ll break into bits.
I’m sitting morosely, waiting, when a security guy comes over and tells us the plane is delayed. The owner of the plane is still in a strip club apparently. “You might be waiting a while,” he informs us.
I flop back into Tommy. “Shall I go commercial? This all feels a bit like waiting to be hung.” I”m not sure I can take much more.
“No, I wouldn”t. You don’t want to cause any more of a stir for yourself. Let’s wait a bit, get a coffee in the comfy seats.” He points to the settees. “The plane’s here, we just need the passenger.”