Chapter 11
11
OLLIE
He’d been back home for ten minutes, and he still hadn’t opened the video that purported to be a scandalous snippet of his wife doing some real-life close and personal stuff with Van Weeks, the actor who had played her love interest in the play that had just closed.
Calvin had offered to come in with him and handle the press, but much as he’d appreciated the offer, Ollie had declined. He had his own people for that, without putting demands on his old friend. His agent, his manager and his PR team – all of whom were based in LA and received a generous percentage of his earnings – were already blowing up his phone, and he was ignoring them all because he didn’t want to deal with any of them until he understood exactly what was going on.
And the truth was, if he was going to witness something devastating, he would rather do it alone and when he was ready. That’s why he’d come in, tossed his jacket on the coat stand, gone to the ridiculously well-stocked bar in the corner of his living room and grabbed a bottle of Budweiser from the self-service beer fridge. A Jack Daniel’s or a shot of whisky would probably be more effective, but he wasn’t a hard spirits kind of guy, so they’d only make this worse. As would a DUI, and he needed to drive to the airport later. One beer was going to have to be the limit.
After throwing back a slug of lager, he took the drink over to the kitchen island and leaned his elbows on the marble, holding his phone in front of him. With a churning stomach and an all-consuming feeling of dread, he pressed play.
The first thing that came into focus was a stranger, someone he’d never seen before in his life. It was a woman, maybe early twenties, sitting in what looked like an airplane seat in the business-class section of an airplane. He had an immediate flash of relief – Sienna only ever flew first class. That was followed by a second flash of dread as he remembered her complaining when she booked the flight that it was the only time that suited her schedule, and it didn’t have a first-class cabin so she was going to have to slum it in business.
Shit. Back to the screen. The person filming was staring directly into camera, eyebrows raised as she mouthed three words. He didn’t need a lip reader to confirm what she was saying. OH. MY. GOD. Then, ramping up the suspense, she moved the phone away from her face and began slowly turning it to her right, so that the passengers in the row one behind her, on the other side of the aisle, came into focus. A woman, her body partially turned away from the camera so that she was facing the guy in the window seat. Ollie’s trepidation escalated another few notches as he focused on the woman – white T-shirt, black leather jeans, the same ones he’d bought for his wife when they had a session with a personal shopper at Bergdorf’s a few weeks ago. But what he hadn’t ordered was the hand that was trailing up and down her back. Or the other hand, that was clearly cradling her neck as the couple kissed, and kissed, and yep, they were still kissing.
Desperate to drag his eyes away from the woman, he switched his focus to the guy. He was wearing a beanie pulled down low, and gradient glasses that partially hid his eyes. His arms were muscular, his shoulders wide, and Ollie was pretty sure that grey T-shirt was Tom Ford. And he was almost definite that it had been another of his wife’s purchases on that personal shopping trip. She’d claimed it was a gift for her brother. Ollie now doubted it had ever made its way back to her brother’s penthouse in West Hollywood. He checked out the jaw, the colour of the tiny wisps of blond hair that were sticking out of the black wool hat. Ollie immediately recognised him.
Van Weeks wasn’t a huge star. He’d done a few pilots, had a couple of minor TV roles, but he was far better known in the theatre world. Chances were, the average person on a flight wouldn’t know who he was. No, the star attraction here was Sienna Montgomery, former child star and member of the Montgomery family dynasty, as recognisable as the Fondas, the Sutherlands or the Baldwins.
That was confirmed by the caption underneath the clip.
OMG. Am I crazy or is that Sienna Montgomery? Do you think Ollie Chiles knows that his wife is currently lip locked with some dude on a flight to LA? Come on, people, do the right thing and let him know. Tag me and tune back in for updates.
#milehigh #whathappensonaflight…
There was a time stamp on it of an hour ago, so at least he’d always know the exact moment that his life began to spectacularly unravel. It was Sienna. He didn’t have a single doubt. It was the body that he slept next to whenever they were in the same city, the woman he’d loved for over six years, married, been faithful to since the day he met her.
But…
He paused while he clutched at a straw. Could it be a fake? All that AI stuff could do anything now. He’d seen a film clip of Tom Cruise buying tampons in Walmart last week. And the viral clip of an ex-President singing ‘You Are My Sunshine’ while sitting on the loo would live with him forever. Sure, it was highly unlikely that someone could mock all that up at just a few moments notice, but he supposed the person who filmed them could have used the in-flight Wi-Fi to send it to someone to be modified and…
Another ping. Then another. Then another. And his phone was vibrating so hard with a new wave of incoming notifications that it was making his hand tremble.
One of the messages that were running up his screen like some kind of mobile phone ticker tape stood out and caught his eye:
brEAKING NEWS – SIENNA MONTGOMERY LOSES IT IN MID-AIR RANT.
Oh Jesus. Maybe he should have gone for a shot of hard spirits after all.
He clicked on to TMZ’s website and played the clip. Same airplane. Same couple wrapped up in each other. Then the woman slowly disentangles herself and stretches up as if waking from a long sleep. She turns her body so that she’s facing the front and lifts the glass of clear liquid on the tray in front of her. Ollie knew exactly what it would be. Tequila Soda Lime. Sienna’s drink of choice. Everything about this was looking way too real. The way she moved. Her body language. The dimples on her cheeks. And now, almost in slow motion, the way she reacted when her gaze flicked slightly to her left and she spotted that the other passenger had a phone camera angled in her direction. For a split second, she put her head down, her hand coming up to her face as if to shield herself from the glare of the lens, but then defence-mode must have kicked in because she suddenly moved towards the camera.
‘Are you filming me?’ she spat, but her words were now even more slurred than when he’d spoken to her earlier. She was drunk. Definitely wasted. It wasn’t an uncommon thing of late. The slump in her career and the latest cancellation of her show had hit her hard. This Sienna Montgomery was almost unrecognisable as the carefree, driven, successful actress who’d been at the pinnacle of her career, lauded and drenched in accolades, when they’d met.
Ollie wanted to close his eyes or press stop because it explained so much. Sober Sienna would never risk misbehaving in public because she was very well aware that the majority of the people in their orbit had a phone with a camera now. Drunk Sienna was someone who tossed all her inhibitions and caution to the wind and did whatever she damn well pleased. Drunk Sienna was also more explosive than 100 per cent alcohol in a naked flame.
The person behind the camera didn’t reply, so Sienna continued to stretch out of her chair and lean towards it. ‘I said are you fucking filming me?’
The only thing her fury was achieving was putting her closer into focus, letting the watching world hear her voice, and confirm that there could be absolutely no doubt whatsoever that this was the real Sienna Montgomery, not some AI-generated spoof, or one of those uncanny lookalikes who made a fortune because the genetic lottery had given them a face that closely resembled a household name.
She turned back to the guy sitting next to her. ‘Van, they’ve been filming us.’ Slam dunk. Questions answered. Proof delivered.
Turning back, she was wide-eyed and her face twisted as she made a lunge for the phone, forcing the woman recording the whole debacle to pull back. The video was now jerking furiously as the operator tried desperately to avoid confiscation.
‘I said give me the fucking phone,’ Sienna hissed, and Ollie could hear the slur of her words again.
A rumble of noise and jarring movements emitted from the screen for the next few seconds, then a more official firm voice as a flight attendant intervened. ‘Excuse me, please sit back down in your seat and put your seatbelt on.’
‘No. That woman is filming me. She has no right to do that, and I want it deleted. It’s my fucking privacy and she just invaded me. I swear to God if this gets out I’ll sue this fucking airline until there’s nothing left of it. Now get the fucking phone. I want to see exactly what’s on it.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t take a passenger’s phone.’ The timbre of the voice changed as if the person speaking was now talking while facing the camera. ‘Ma’am, are you willing to voluntarily hand the phone over or delete anything you’ve recorded of the other passenger?’
‘No, I’m not handing it over. It’s no one else’s business what’s on my phone. It’s a free country – I can record anything I want.’
That activated Tequila Sienna. ‘No you can’t! How fucking dare you – I’m entitled to my private life.’
The flight attendant switched focus to Sienna. ‘Ma’am, can you come with me please? I think for everyone’s sake it’s probably best if we move you to another seat for now, while I speak to the captain and ascertain the airline protocol here.’
Ollie was starting to feel sorry for the flight attendant. It was an impossible situation to deal with while all parties were at thirty thousand feet in a metal tube. And he also knew how it felt to take on Sienna in a rage.
The footage cut there, and he let his head fall onto his hands on the counter. Fuck. How could she do this to him? To them? Yet so many things were adding up in his head. Her drinking. The T-shirt Van Weeks was wearing. Their tactile affection at the beginning of the clip. This didn’t look like a one-off drunken kiss. Was it a full-blown affair? How long had it been going on? Were they in love? Is that why she’d been so offhand with him lately? So angry all the time? And did it matter what it was?
He wanted to unsee everything he’d watched in the last half-hour and slam his phone off the marble. But before he got a chance to do that, his phone decided to torture him a little bit more.
Another text.
Sienna
Just saw the video that’s circulating. I know it’s prob reached you too. It’s not what it looks like, I promise.
Then another.
Babe, can you reply and tell me you don’t believe it?
Then another.
Fuck. Don’t do this Ollie.
And finally.
OLLIE, PLEASE TALK TO ME.
Capitals. Like that was going to make a difference.
He didn’t cave in to her demands. Instead, he watched the video again. It was pretty hard to see in what world it wasn’t exactly what it looked like – his wife getting it on with another guy. What other explanation could there be? By the way Van’s hands were wandering, he was clearly still functioning, so she wasn’t administering mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. And no, Ollie wasn’t going to buy any kind of bullshit that they were rehearsing for a role. Which left the possible option that he’d been bitten on the lip by a snake and she was sucking out the venom. About as preposterous as it got on the JFK to LAX red eye.
No. There were no explanations other than the glaring reality that it was exactly what it looked like.
His phone began to ring. A WhatsApp call. And the screen was flashing with his wife’s name. That made perfect sense. Wi-Fi calls were not generally allowed on most flights, but Sienna would often go into the airplane loos to make them. Just another example of how she thought that rules didn’t apply to her. A bit like monogamy within marriage, apparently.
He checked his watch. Half past one. She would be landing around 3p.m. his time, and maybe then they could have a proper conversation. He wasn’t going to speak to her while she was huddled in an airline toilet or before he’d had a chance to think through what he’d just seen.
Ollie pressed decline.
He’d speak to her when he was ready and that wasn’t now.