Hiding Hollywood Page 17

  Everyone included the five piece jazz band, a four piece country and western group, the blues band, two soloists and their accompanying pianist and Running on Empty, twenty- two people in all.

  I must have looked dubious about adding something last minute that we’d not rehearsed because Shane jumped in quickly, “Hey we’re all professionals here. We won’t let you down.” His comment was met with a chorus of support from the other entertainers.

  I looked from Shane to Arch and around the room. I was snookered. There would be a lot of disappointed people if I said no.

  “Ok. You’re on. You’ve got an extra five minutes for a final set with everyone on stage.”

  “Ten,” challenged Shane, to a round of cheers.

  “Eight. We’re on a schedule here.”

  “Eight then,” he said, and the room erupted, musicians grabbing instruments and talking excitedly.

  “Get outta here. We have an arrangement to fix,” Shane flapped his arms at me so I backed out of the area. I would have asked what songs they were thinking of doing but I’m not sure anyone would have heard me over the twanging of strings and the rhythm from the drum kit.

  Back in the main hall area, the DJ had them swinging on the dance floor and the catering staff were clearing the tables. I could see Cathy and Norman working up a sweat and Helen was back at the table with Lloyd Jones. She had her feet up on an empty chair, a glass of wine in her hand and the full attention of the red-haired builder.

  I scanned for Rush and found him playing storyteller, holding court with a group of Chamber of Commerce members. He glanced over and flashed me his movie star smile.

  I started to make my way to him when I noticed two late comers standing at the entranceway, casually dressed and wearing dazed expressions as they took in the extraordinary venue.

  Michael still had another week of holiday leave planned. What was he doing here with Lainey now?

  I made my way across the floor, dodging couples doing their best Fred and Ginger impressions. When I got close enough, I could see Michael had lost the pallor he’d worn before Christmas and now sported a health glow. The dark circles under his eyes had lifted and he looked fit and well. But when he saw me his expression changed and before I could get out a greeting he closed the distance between us and raised his voice in anger.

  “You lied to me!”

  “What! No hello, great dress, what an amazing night, how much can we invoice this month?”

  “No clowning around Andi, you lied. You’ve never lied to me before.”

  “It was a white lie. I was protecting you.”

  “How white does it look now?” Michael said, throwing his arms wide to take in the chandelier, the dance floor, the balcony. “How white was it when you risked our reputation on this? When you got involved with that man? Tell me Andi,” he demanded.

  “They were supposed to be in hiding. I never meant it to be this way. It wasn’t meant to be this big a deal.” I cast my eyes around the room seeing it afresh as Michael had. I could still see Rush, surrounded by admirers. “We needed the billings so I handled it and I was protecting you. Look, it’s a fantastic night and a new credential for us.”

  “All I know is that you kept a secret from me, a secret that has a huge impact on our company. Our company Andi, yours and mine, or are you making other plans I should know about?”

  “What other plans would I be making? You’re blowing this all out of proportion.”

  “Am I?” His expression wasn’t dazed any more, it was stone hard. He looked like someone I’d never met before. I knew I was wrong not to be in contact with him, but this amount of aggression from Michael was without precedent.

  “Absolutely out of proportion. Come and sit down. I’ll see if the kitchen has any leftovers. I’ll introduce you to the guys.”

  “I don’t want to sit. We’re not staying. We got back this morning and drove all the way through, we’re exhausted. But I had to see this, to see what you’d done and to finally hear you tell me face to face what’s going on.”

  “Right now what’s going on is a fundraiser. A fantastic night, from which I’ve earned us a fabulous juicy fee.”

  Overhead the fireworks started, there was a loud whizz, a bang and a burst of red and white. Lainey, standing tensely, slightly apart from us jumped when the first bang went off.

  “That’s all?” he said, anger still cast over his features.

  “That’s all,” I said frowning.

  “What about Tom’s offer?” Another bang, another comet of colour and this time I jumped. How did he know about that?

  “Tom’s offer?”

  “Your basic communications skills seem to be failing you. First your ability to talk to me and now your hearing,” Michael snapped.

  “What do you know about Tom’s offer?”

  Michael jabbed his finger towards me, “That he wants to make you his partner.”

  Rapid fire blasts overhead. Rockets of light in the sky. “How do you know that?”

  “Because Tom told me. Tom who thinks it’s important to tell me my partner is defecting and who doesn’t think I should be protected.”

  I gasped. “I haven’t accepted a job with Tom. I haven’t even spoken to him.”

  “And what about Rush, are you having an affair with him?” An ‘Oohh’ from the crowd as glittery stars fell.

  “I....”

  “Ah, what does it matter? I can’t trust your answers anyway?”

  Above us everything was green and I lost my temper. I shouted, “You think I lied. What about you? I know about you and Lainey. You lied. You lied to me for years. You let me think you loved me.”

  Michael flinched as if I’d physically struck him, “I never lied to you. I never would,” he reached for Lainey’s hand. “What Lainey and I do outside work is no concern of yours. You look beautiful and I appreciate the hard work, but I just can’t be here with you now,” he dropped his head, turned his back on me and stalked across the room.

  Oh my God he was right, he hadn’t lied to me. I’d lied to me. For ten years. In the soft heat of the night I was burned cold.

  Lainey stepped forward and touched me gently on the shoulder, making me shiver, “I wanted to tell you, I really did. I tried to tell you on Christmas Eve, I....”

  I sighed, gave her a weak smile, “Go with him Lainey. Be good to him,” and I watched her turn and run after him.

  Michael was right. What he did in his private life was no business of mine, never had been. Michael didn’t love me. How stupid was I? Did I really think one hurried romantic encounter during university was the truth of it? One when there were countless occasions, countless, when we might have become something more to each other. Lainey was perfect for him. And me? I was his perfect friend, but I was never going to be his lover.

  My head was spinning and I was close to tears. Had I lost my best friend? What could I do to make it right? I looked about for Rush, wanting his touch to take away the hurt but he wasn’t in sight.

  As I hesitated, the crowd began cheering loudly and moving towards the dance floor and the stage as Shane appeared to introduce the band. With the sound of their bass reverberating in my chest I made for the production van, it would be quieter there. I could catch my breath and think. But as I was leaving the hall a flash of camera lights caught my attention.

  Camera flashes had been going off all night, but this was one brighter and not focused on the stage where all the action was concentrated. Was there a professional photographer in the room? I’d seen the folk from the local paper earlier and wasn’t worried about them. They were happy with their exclusive and nothing they wrote was any more likely to start a media frenzy than the dozens of Facebook page owners who were in the room.

  And then I saw him, the last person I expected, in a white lounge coat and a red bow tie. The Gossip King himself, Roger Smyth. How did he get here? Roger was holding a notebook and gesturing with a glass of champagne and beside him, heartbreakingly fascinating i
n his lounge suit, coat off, bow tie undone, was Rush.

  My stomach flipped.

  I started towards them, but Sally tapped my arm with a question about the new finale and when I turned back, they were gone. I swept the room and found them again, this time with a photographer. Rush was posing, holding his glass up for the camera and then putting his arm around the shoulders of his new best new journalist buddy for another shot.

  I started towards them and caught Rush’s eye. He frowned at me, shook his head, mouthed the word ‘No’, and turning his back on me, took Roger’s arm and moved further into the room.

  What was he doing? I thought he understood how much his last flirt with the media had hurt me. I thought he was sorry he’d used me. Sorry he’d lied to me. Would take it all back if he could. Would never lie to me again. Was this another attempt to get at Harriet? Was Rush going to make convenient use of me again?

  Instead of holding me at arm’s length from Roger, like he’d done days ago, he was putting a whole room between us and the truth. My heart smashed into my feet and the room spun a little. He was a bastard and I was a gullible fool.

  As I stared after him the room erupted with cheers and whistles as a sweaty Shane announced the last song, and the other entertainers came on stage. The remaining guests who’d stood at the fringes of the dance floor or remained seated surged to their feet and I found myself boxed in with the crowd, not able to move anywhere but towards the stage.

  I lost myself in the press of bodies and the music. It was as good a place as any to hide from the feelings that shuddered through me.

  The big finale band played three favourite popular anthems together starting with Little River Band’s ‘Help is on the way’ and finishing with John Farnham’s ‘You’re the voice’, complete with bagpipes they’d found somewhere. Running on Empty took a back seat, letting the locals lead the singing but they remained on stage and looked like they were enjoying themselves.

  The audience was in heaven, a large part of the room sang along and when the final notes sounded, a good fifteen minutes after the set started, and Shane stepped forward to say goodnight, the cheering, clapping and stamping began and went on well after the stage had cleared.

  When the crowd finally began to disperse I made my way backstage to congratulate the group, not that they needed my voice added to the mix. There were enough well wishes and much back slapping reverberating through the room as it was. Shane was in the thick of it, obviously pleased by the result.

  “I’m going to have post event blues big time tomorrow,” said Sally, coming up beside me.

  She was right, after a big project like this it was easy to feel depressed by a return to the ordinary world. It was difficult to be constructing a fairy castle out of an old ruined hall one day, with a Hollywood heartthrob to fund your ideas and share your lunch, and be back at your desk the next, with just email and a brown paper bagged sandwich for company.

  But post event blues was probably the least of my problems. I had a partner and best friend who no longer trusted me and then there was Rush with his glamorous veneer and his deceitful heart. At least I could be grateful it hadn’t already gone too far with him.

  “You should go, you’re limping. I can finish up here,” said Sally.

  I was limping, even in my dressed up thongs. I’d given my poor tendon, not to mention some other parts of me, too much stress today. With the sounds of the bands packing gear and people calling drunken goodnights, I recognised my exhaustion. Physically and mentally, I was done in.

  I’d managed a near perfect fairytale event for four hundred people but my own personal enchanted story had turned into a nightmare. I needed sleep. I needed balance, to reconnect with family and those who truly cared for me and to say goodbye to fantasy.

  30: Misunderstood

  The street twinkled now with fairy lights and smelt of cordite, the aftermath of the fireworks. Other couples had spilled out onto the street with me. Many were worse for wear. Some staggered, some danced to their own music. Some felt others had too many clothes on.

  “Where are you going girl?” Arch said, from the shadows.

  “Home, I need to go home.” If I talked too much, if he touched me I’d cry and I might not stop.

  “Come on then,” he said, “I’ll drive.” We took the ute, leaving the car for the others, and he did drive, mostly on the proper side of the road, but when it came time to turn into Allambee’s driveway he shot past.

  “Ah, you missed it.”

  “Nope, not going there.”

  “Oh please, it’s been a long day, I really need to sleep and you have to pack, it’s another early start.”

  “Andi, relax, everything’s alright.” But it wasn’t, nothing was alright, and I was too flattened by the roller coaster of it to talk.

  Five minutes later, we pulled into a concealed driveway and in a clearing on the edge of a steep drop, stood a glass structure, suspended over the cliff on steel pillars.

  There were no curtains so you could see right into the room and out the other side to the valley below. Both the ceiling and the floor were glass, though there was a large shaggy rug on the floor. The room was lit with candles and glowed like a beacon in the total darkness. Inside was an enormous bed, a lounge area and a kitchen and bathroom, all of it exposed to the surrounding bush and the fall of the valley and yet completely and utterly secret and secluded.

  “What’s this?”

  “Rush wanted to surprise you with something special tonight. He’ll be here soon.”

  “I thought we all knew I don’t like surprises.”

  “This is a nice surprise. Go inside, Helen packed you a bag. Clothes and other stuff,” he said, handing me an overnight bag. “I’ll see you in the morning. You’re incredible Andi.” He bear hugged me off my feet and jumped back in the ute. “I drive on the left, right?” he called out the window as he backed down the driveway.

  I’d never seen anything like this glasshouse, so cleverly constructed, and making such dramatic use of the cliff edge and the outlook. This was a room designed for a special occasion, could make any occasion special and yet I could barely stand to be there because this occasion was a seduction I no longer wanted.

  Before I had time to think about facing Rush, I heard the putter of the Harley Davidson and turned to see him kick it back on its stand and swing his leg over the seat. He was still in his suit pants and shirt, but with the sleeves rolled up and the neck open. He had a small black bag and a large bunch of flowers with him. The magnet had switched its setting again and I was repelled. I could barely stand to look at his beautiful lying face.

  Offensive or defensive which form of response did I want? What gave me the best advantage? He entered the room, tossing his bag on the floor and placing the flowers on the bed. I kept my back to him facing out into the starlight and darkness but I could see his reflection in the glass.

  “I guess I misunderstood what you said last night,” I said. Offensive it was then.

  He stepped up behind me, looked puzzled, “What do you think you misunderstood?”

  “The part about never lying to me. How did that go again?” If he’d been about to touch me, he thought better of it.

  “I said I’d never lie to you again. And I won’t.”

  “I see. You have an interesting way with the truth then.” I turned to face him. “Sorry to ruin your plans,” I said sarcastically.

  “Ruin my plans?” he said, brow furrowed.

  “All your surprises,” I threw my arms out to encompass the room. “I thought you understood I don’t like them.”

  “How are you ruining anything?” He looked puzzled.

  “By throwing you out.” Now he frowned and stepped closer.

  “Andi, I know what you saw,” he sighed.

  “That makes two of us.” He could stand as close to me as he wanted, it no longer affected me.

  “Let me tell you about it.”

  “I wonder how that story could possib
ly go. I know. Once upon a time there was a man who was bitter and angry and wanted to hurt his wife. So he found a convenient woman, half way across the world, a stupid, fool woman and he used that gullible woman and then he seduced her and made her think he loved her, then he betrayed her again.”

  “No Andi, that’s not what you saw,” he groaned, shaking his head.

  “Get out.”

  He didn’t make me ask twice. He never said another word. He left, closing the door quietly behind him, but the motor cycle roared in the clearing and he took off at high speed.

  If I wasn’t right, why didn’t he fight me?

  31: Fly Away Home

  It was a long, lonely night in my palace of glass. Helen had packed thoughtfully so I had everything I needed except the peace of mind to sleep. I stared at the stars until the sky began to tilt from black to dark blue and then I must have crashed because birdsong, bright light and twinning sounds of an automatic sunscreen unfolding across the glass and Helen’s car in the clearing woke me.

  “What happened?” asked Helen, when I let her in, concern written on her face.

  “He sold me out again. He did an interview with a journalist and he wouldn’t let me near him. He lied to me again. He used me to play games with his wife and he thought I was stupid enough to forgive him. I sent him away. Apart from making sure he gets on his jet this morning I never want to see him again.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “I was an idiot but it could have been worse. I almost let him seduce me.” I just about seduced him I thought, bile building in the back of my throat. “How did you know to come for me? I was worried about getting a taxi out here.”

  “Simon called, the guys have gone. They left for the airport half an hour ago.”

  I stopped throwing things in my bag, “That’s two hours early.”

  “Yes, and there’s something else you should know. He didn’t sell you out, at least I don’t think he did. He made that journalist tell the truth, to write that you weren’t his lover, that it was a mistake. He thought that’s what you’d want.”