7. CHAPTER 7
Clara was starving. She pulled her fridge open, hoping it would miraculously have filled while she was at work. Unfortunately, it hadn’t; it was still empty—if you didn’t count out-of-date ketchup and some milk.
Pulling open her freezer, she groaned unhappily as it was nearly empty too; she searched through it, looking for anything vaguely nutritious. Her hands finally closed around a frozen vegetarian lasagne, and she pulled it out, wincing as the cold penetrated her fingers.
Reading the instructions, she grumbled again when she saw it would take fifty minutes to cook and turned the oven on. The alternative was eating toast again, and as that had been at least fifty percent of her meals so far that week, she figured she needed to eat some vegetables.
While waiting for the oven to heat up, Clara showered and gratefully pulled her warm winter pyjamas on; they were ugly, with red tartan print and buttons up to the neck; not that she cared, they were warm. She added her pink slippers to the ensemble and giggled at herself in the mirror.
It may have been two in the morning when they had arrived home the night before, but she still had enough sense to keep this outfit hidden from her unexpected guest. These pyjamas were purely alone in the house wear.
By the time she was dressed, her oven had heated, so she threw the lasagna in and set an alarm, knowing she was at a high risk of falling asleep.
She dragged her heavy legs to the living room and flopped onto the sofa. Snagging the remote from where she had last discarded it, she opened Netflix and began to scroll through, looking for something to watch.
Her fingers froze when the second Superman movie appeared on the screen, and she sat staring at Taylor as the promo for the film played.
Her mind flashed back to Jack’s anger, and her hand moved up to her cheek, rubbing it. But for the first time since that night, Jack’s face was replaced by someone else’s, and she could only picture Taylor. His eyes, his smile, his muscled arms, and most of all, the small kindnesses he had shown her.
She stared at the screen longer, waiting for the trauma of being with Jack to flood back in again, but it didn’t.
Shaking her head to stop herself from mooning over Taylor, she kept scrolling, looking for something to watch, but nothing caught her attention, and suddenly, her fingers, almost without her input, were taking her back to Superman.
She hesitated for a moment longer before finally clicking on it and setting the movie to play.
It wasn’t long before a scene came on that had Clarke Kent shedding his work clothes and stepping into the shower. Clara blushed scarlet. It was one thing to look at him undressed when he was a movie star, a theory of a person. It was another when she had spent the last two days with him and planned on spending a few more. It seemed wrong, as if she was a peeping Tom, which she knew was ridiculous as this was literally his job.
She got through her moral dilemma by only sneaking glances at the screen until he had his clothes back on again.
Then she was sucked into the movie about a world where heroes were real and could save the day.
Superman was just about to save Lois Lane, who, quite frankly, should have known better than to get herself into another life-threatening situation, when her doorbell rang.
She frowned and paused the movie before hauling herself to her feet and shuffling down the hallway to the front door. Clara put the chain on before she opened it a crack.
“Can I help you?” she asked the tall man standing with his back to her, who spun around when she spoke.
Clara’s jaw dropped open when she realised that Taylor Anderson stood on her doorstep clutching, she glanced down at his hands to count, four different takeaway bags.
“Hi.” He waved the food bags at her and grinned.
“Hi,” Clara muttered back and kept staring.
When she made no move to let him in, Taylor began to shuffle on the spot. “I brought you food.” He waved the bags again.
Clara’s eyes were drawn down to the rustle of the bags, but again, it was the muscles in his forearms that held her gaze, and her heartbeat kicked up to the uncomfortable rate it had sat at all day with him around.
When she still didn’t say anything, he added. “And I have ice cream.”
Clara’s stupor finally broke, and a smile teased at the corner of her lips. “If it’s not Ben and Jerry’s, you’re not coming in.”
Taylor’s eyes widened, his hand dived into one of the bags, and he triumphantly pulled out a pint of cookies and cream Ben and Jerry’s.
“In that case.” She removed the chain from the door and swung it open, forgetting about her interesting pyjama and slipper combination.
When his eyes widened slightly in surprise, she glanced down and blushed as red as the top she wore. “Clearly, I was not expecting guests.”
“I have seen a very similar ensemble on a catwalk in Paris, so actually, you’re quite fashionable.” He eyed her outfit. “Although now I think about it, the pink slippers had bunny ears and high heels.” He lifted his eyebrow and grinned.
Clara shook her head and stepped aside, “Come in before my neighbours see me entertaining strange men in my pyjamas.”
Taylor strode into her house, immediately making everything seem smaller; he was such a giant.
“Shall we eat in the kitchen? Or do you want to eat in front of the TV?” He glanced into the living room.
Clara was slow to follow him as she tried to get her heart rate and breathing back under control. “Whichever you want,” she called after him, giving herself another moment to calm her flaming cheeks.
She entered her living room to find him setting up a feast on her coffee table.
“I didn’t know what you liked, so I grabbed some Thai, Chinese, Indian, and Italian. I hope that’s okay?” He laid out container after container of food, removing lids and arranging things to his liking. “Can you grab plates and some cutlery?”
“Sure.”
Clara paused in the doorway and stared at the movie star pottering around her living room. She then debated getting a jumper to cover up the pyjamas but dismissed it, as the worst had already been done.
She was collecting plates and sorting out drinks when Taylor appeared in the doorway with four tubs of ice cream in his hands, all from different brands.
“I didn’t know what you’d like, so I hedged my bets.” He strode over to her freezer and opened it.
Clara hoped he didn’t comment on her lack of food in the freezer, but thankfully, he said nothing, deposited the ice cream, and then headed back across to help her.
“I can offer you water, tea or coffee. Sorry, I don’t have much in the house.” She flushed in embarrassment at the meagre supplies she had.
“Water’s fine.” He picked up the glass she offered and headed back to the living room, sitting down in the armchair next to Clara’s sofa.
They spent a few minutes in silence loading up their plates with food and, in Clara’s case, trying to stop herself from inhaling the delicious-smelling meal at high speed.
When they had both taken a few mouthfuls, Taylor leaned forward and grabbed the remote off the coffee table. “What are we watching?”
Clara’s eyes bulged. Unfortunately, her mouth was too full of food to say anything, and she couldn’t snatch the remote back without dropping the plate in her hand. So she took the only road available: she shut her eyes tightly and pretended this wasn’t about to happen to her.
The sound of the movie started again, and she kept her eyes closed, waiting for the ground to swallow her as Taylor’s voice boomed from her television speakers.
Finally, after what felt like forever, she opened one eye and slowly turned her head to look at the man who was flying across her screen as he saved the world, sitting on her sofa and staring at her with a massive grin on his face.
“We’re watching Superman?” Taylor raised an eyebrow at her.
Clara opened her other eye, shrugged and tried to sound nonchalant, but it came out squeaky. “Yeah.”
“I think I know how this one ends.” He gestured to the screen.
“Yeah.” Clara’s face flamed red, and she wished she could run away.
However, there was nowhere to go. Not when the real Taylor freaking Anderson was sitting on her sofa while the television continued to blare obnoxiously loudly.
Finally, a few of Clara’s brain cells began to function, and she spoke in a rush, “I’d never seen it before, and well, I ummm, I guess I was thinking about it after our conversation this morning. And now I want the sofa to swallow me so I don’t have to sit here and be as embarrassed as I am.” She wanted to fan her face as her cheeks were so flushed.
“Nah. It’s all good. It’s a good movie. I know I’m biased, but I’m not ashamed of it.” He put the remote down on the coffee table and shovelled more food into his mouth while he stared at the screen.
Clara snatched it off the table, pressed pause and swivelled to face him.
“I keep embarrassing myself in front of you, so I’m going to need a list of the movies you’re ashamed of, to make me feel better.” She dropped the remote and grabbed her phone, where she opened Google, ready to look them up.
“Nope.” He shook his head and lunged for the remote, but she snatched it away and sat on it.
“You won’t tell me, so I’ll pull up a list of movies, and we can go through them one by one.” She tapped her phone screen until she found a list of his movies; scanning down, her eyebrows shot up nearly to her hairline. “You were in Cats? The one with the CGI cat butts? How did I not know this!”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “I try and keep it quiet. My old manager told me it was a good project to be involved in and would elevate my career. Surprisingly, prancing around dressed as a cat while singing, which, by the way, I hate, was not a great experience.”
“Did it bring you attention?” She desperately tried to keep her face straight.
He waggled his eyebrows. “Oh yes. Lots of attention. Although, thankfully, most of my part ended up on the cutting room floor.”
“That’s good if you hated it.”
“Yes. But then, when the rumours came out that I was in the running for Superman, the masses on the internet started a campaign against me.” He shrugged, trying to look unphased.
“That sounds awful,” Clara said sympathetically.
“It was pretty horrible. I used to read everything that people wrote about me; I spent way too much time going down rabbit holes I shouldn’t have. Reading every nasty thing people who had never met me had to say about me. I spiralled so badly while waiting to hear about Superman after all the auditions. Luckily, my friends realised and held an intervention.”
“What did they do?’
“I still lived with Mom as I had no money. So, one of the guys removed internet access from Mom’s house. He literally snipped the cable to stop me from reading everything written about me.” Taylor laughed.
“He cut the cable? Isn’t that a bit drastic? What about your mobile?”
“I couldn’t afford much data, so I had to stop the frantic internet searches if I wanted to stay in contact with my agent.”
“That’s genius!” Clara exclaimed.
“Those are not the words Mom used; they were wayyyyyy more colourful. Luckily, she forgot all about it when I got the role and let me invite all the boys over to celebrate.”
“And one part nearly ruined your career?”
“It can when you’re starting out. But now I’m more established, it’s much easier.”
“I’m sorry,” Clara said as she tapped the screen on her phone. “I need to see this. Surely it’s not so bad?”
“Wh—“ He trailed off when a familiar song rang out from the speakers in her living room. “Oh my god, no!”
His gaze was on the television screen where Clara had mirrored the YouTube clip of his role in Cats she had found on her phone. He winced as he watched himself prance and strut around the screen.
Clara giggled, then noticed his stricken expression. “Oh shit. Sorry. I, oh man. I’m sorry. I thought it would be funny, but you look super upset.”
“It’s okay.” He shook his head, then glanced at the screen again, which was frozen on a close-up of his fluffy cat bottom. “Although, if you could remove my giant cat ass from the screen, that would be great.”
Clara fumbled for her phone and, in her rush, clicked on the next video that appeared on YouTube, which was Taylor walking the red carpet at the Oscars.
Clara was silent as she gazed at a world that was so alien to hers, bringing home quite how bizarre the whole situation was.
She reached for her plate and took another forkful of the takeaway while she observed Taylor waving to the crowd, answering questions in a self-deprecating manner and oozing movie star charisma.
“Is there any chance we can stop watching videos of me?” Taylor requested. “It feels incredibly self-centred,”
“Sure.” She paused the YouTube video and managed to pick a moment with a close-up of his face. The screen was left full of Taylor smouldering down at them.
“While that is an improvement compared to my fluffy butt, having me staring at us is making me feel a little uncomfortable.” He grabbed the television remote off the table and pressed the Netflix button, which reopened and, unfortunately, restarted playing the movie they had just been watching.
Which meant Taylor, as Superman, filled the screen.
“Oh, for god’s sake.” He jabbed at the button on the remote, trying to get the movie to stop.
Clara watched him and giggled before covering her mouth with her hand to stop herself. She got some semblance of control back before she stated, “That’s an occupational hazard most of us don’t have to contend with.”
He glanced at her and raised an eyebrow in question; he was not really concentrating on her, more hunting through the movies, trying to find something to watch that didn’t have him in.
“Is it weird seeing yourself everywhere?” She gestured to the screen as his face scrolled past on the movie poster for another film.
He paused his search and turned to look at her.
“Yeah. It’s never not a shock. I mean, I’ve worked hard for this job and spent the last twenty years acting and working my way up through this business. But I didn’t ever think about what being famous would actually be like.”
“In what way?” She tucked her knees up onto the sofa and rested her elbows on them, genuinely intrigued by what he was telling her.
“I got my first role at fifteen. And all I wanted then was to be famous. I told everyone that one day I was going to be a movie star.” He gestured to the screen, which showed his face staring back at them from the movie poster. “But when you’re fifteen, it’s such an abstract thought. I mean, you think of all the things you can buy, the car you can afford. But you never think about what being famous entails…” He trailed off and gazed sightlessly at the television.
“Is it that bad?” Clara leaned forward and prompted him to keep talking.
“Yes and no. I mean, I’m not trying to tell you to feel sorry for me. Or claim ‘poor me’. As I’m very aware I’m one of the most privileged men on the planet. I can travel wherever I want. I can do whatever I want. I can go to any restaurant, and there will always be a table for me. I travel by private jet often; I get to skip all the queues at the airport and am ushered through by a VIP team. I have more advantages than any one person deserves.
“However, there’s a downside. There’s…” He stopped talking and looked at Clara. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I’ve seen how hard you work, and I’m sitting here complaining and being pathetic.”
“No, really. It’s okay. I don’t mind. I like talking to you.” She smiled broadly, then blushed scarlet, worried he would think she was trying to flirt with him when he was so far out of her league that he was in another stratosphere.
“Yeah, me too.” He stared back at her, searching for something on her face before he finally continued. “So, I’ve had more stalkers than I care to remember. I can’t be alone in a room with a woman because some of them will claim things I haven’t done in an attempt for fame or money.”
Clara cleared her throat and gestured around her living room. “I seem to be missing a chaperone.”
He grinned back. “I trust you.”
Clara blinked a few times at his statement. “You don’t know me. Maybe I have the tabloids on speed dial.”
“Do you?” He lifted an eyebrow.
“No. But you shouldn’t be so trusting. You’ve got to protect yourself.”
“I do. I usually do. Well, I dunno. There’s no good reason, but I trust you.” He drew his eyebrows together.
They sat there staring at each other until Clara shifted in her seat and broke their eye contact.
“Good. I’m very trustworthy.” She laughed. “Seriously though, that sounds difficult.”
He sighed deeply, still staring at her. “It has its moments. Honestly, I haven’t made a new friend since I became famous.”
“You do have your old friends, right?” she asked with concern. It sounded like a pretty lonely life.
“Yeah, the people I’ve known for years, since before the fame thing happened. I’ve tried to make new friends and trusted the wrong people. It always ended up in the press with some nasty headline or false accusations.” He squeezed his eyes shut.
“Like three years ago?” She recalled some of the gossip magazines she had seen around the hospital at that time. Every single one of them had Taylor’s picture plastered across the front with various accusations of abuse.
Taylor nodded and didn’t say anything.
“They were lies?” She stared hard at him, looking for a tick in his face, a sign to show he was lying, but she saw nothing but honesty.
And he nodded again.
“Okay,” she simply said.
He spoke hesitantly, “You believe me?”
“I don’t know you. But what I read about you doesn’t seem like the person I’ve met. You don’t come across as the type to do any of that stuff.”
Clara had been observing him. Looking for those little tells that, in hindsight, had been visible in Jack when she had finally opened her eyes. Little looks, where his eyes would narrow. A shortness of temper. Never listening to her, just waiting for his turn to talk. She didn’t see any of that in Taylor.
“So either you have excellent lawyers, which made it go away fast, or it was all total crap.”
“I dated her,” he said quietly. “We met in a club. I thought it was a chance meeting; however, once she revealed her true self, I realised she’d been planning and scheming to get my attention for a long time. We dated for about a year. At first, she took me in. She was beautiful and kind and sweet.
“She gave me all of her attention. Whatever I wanted to do, she said yes to me. If I wanted to stay in, we stayed in. If I wanted to go out, we went out. We went on expensive holidays to amazing places, and she also happily came camping with me and slept in a tent.
“I thought I’d met the perfect woman. I missed all of the red flags. Everything that should have told me there was something wrong.” He went silent, his eyes distant and unfocused.
Clara waited as the giant of a man sitting in her lounge relived something that had obviously caused him a huge amount of pain. She saw the upset flickering through his eyes, and she guessed he was doing what she did, watching his past like a movie in his head.
She didn’t push him to talk, just sat in silence as she recalled her own relationship with Jack, the arsehole. It always amazed her that one man could do so much damage and then move on without a care in the world.
She was sick of seeing his face smiling out from the articles her mum insisted on sending her from Hello magazine and OK magazine, showing him with the woman he had cheated on her with, his wife, twenty-five-year-old Natalia Petrovich, now Jones, heiress to a billion-dollar fortune.
Every time she saw his smarmy face, it felt like another punch to the stomach, a blow that he had given her a few times in the past. Then, after the hits, he would be so remorseful, so sorry, so contrite, so apologetic—until she did something else he didn’t like, and he hit her again, restarting the cycle.
Now Jack had what he always wanted, what he thought he deserved, and she hoped that, for Natalia’s sake, he treated her better than he had Clara.
He had a picture-perfect, wonderful life in a mansion that she had the pleasure of looking through in Hello magazine when Jack and Natalia did an interview and walk-through. And while he lived in luxury and flew by private jet, she struggled as she paid off all the debt he left her.
Clara snapped out of her revere when Taylor finally began talking again.
“I know now; she spent the whole time we were together desperately trying to get pregnant. To trap me, no, not me. To trap my money to her side for life.” His eyes refocused on Clara. “Luckily, I was careful and avoided that trap. Even when I thought I might be in love with her. I knew I wasn’t ready to start a family with someone I had known for such a short period of time.
“When I finally got my head out of my ass and realised that she wasn’t the person I thought she was and broke up with her, she tried to goad me into doing something I’d regret.
“She pushed me and shoved me. She slapped me and punched me. She screamed in my face. And when I wouldn’t give her what she wanted, she scratched her own face and grabbed herself so hard around her own throat that she bruised it…” He trailed off again.
“The pictures in the magazines?” Clara whispered. She had seen the pictures that showed blood streaks down his ex’s cheeks and bruises around her throat.
“Yeah. She hurt herself, then dashed out of my house. She posted all the pictures and accusations on her social media as soon as she got out of my gate. It was only minutes before my phone rang, and it didn’t stop for days. My agent, my family, my friends. All wanting to know what the hell had happened and if I had done it.
“She had weaselled herself so far into my life that people who should have known I was not capable of doing that all questioned me on it. And a few didn’t believe me when I denied it in person.
“I was so shell shocked it took me far too long to phone the person who I needed to, my lawyer. He was there when the police came to speak to me. He was the one who showed the police the video from the security camera in my front hall—a system that mum insisted I install after a stalker broke into my house. It showed everything, her screaming at me, pushing me, and then her injuring herself.”
Clara’s hands flew to her mouth as he spoke, but she didn’t say anything; just let him talk.
“And then it all faded into the background. My ex never made another statement after those social media posts. Even so, it still follows me; I still get asked about it in interviews, and some people still think I’m abusive.” Taylor’s gaze dropped to the hands he had clasped in his lap.
“Why not release the video? Show that you’re innocent,” Clara asked gently.
“I could have. Maybe I should have; I didn’t because it felt vindictive. I cared for her once. Well, I cared for the girl I thought she was. I contacted her family, as when we were dating, I now realise she was careful to keep me away from them. I found out she had multiple mental health diagnoses; she had even spent time as a teenager in a facility. Her bedroom at home was a shrine to me. She had meticulously planned her life around meeting me. She had researched every interview I had ever done, any mention I had made to the sort of partner I liked, and she turned herself into that woman. I still can’t believe how easily she duped me.” Taylor shook his head.