that had been fleeting. Although the paparazzi wouldn’t gatecrash the wake, he’d had to return to LA, back to filming, so he hadn’t stayed as long as he’d have liked. Ruby felt like a stranger to him.
For a moment sadness and regret filled him. His mother. He’d hardly seen her in the last fifteen years, intent on making it big in Hollywood, plus flights home weren’t cheap when he hadn’t been making money. And then it had been too late, cancer took her in her prime.
He clenched his fists, reliving his anger. He should have been told sooner. He would have come home.
Thankfully, Suzie left him to eat his breakfast in peace, remembering that there were other first class passengers to attend to – especially the huffy old dear a row behind him – letting him dwell. The flight wasn’t busy – there weren’t many people flying in first class. He hadn’t made a fuss, wanting to retain a low profile, and it had worked. The cabin crew had been very surprised when the actual Steve Mason had boarded their plane.
After the breakfast trays had been cleared away, Steve must have dozed off, because he was gently woken by Suzie checking his seatbelt was fastened, and telling him they were approaching Heathrow.
About to disembark, Steve slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and felt a piece of paper in there. He didn’t remember having anything in his pocket. He took it out and read it: a note from Suzie, apologising for being unprofessional but providing him with her number, ‘in case he was staying anywhere near Richmond and needed company.’
He turned, winked, which made her blush and giggle, then walked off the plane.
Nothing personal, but he wouldn’t be calling Suzie, although he couldn’t just throw away her number, so he left the note in his pocket for now. He’d discard it later, discreetly. However much he would like to find love again, he knew Suzie wouldn’t be the one. She was in love – well, lust – with the star, the glamour, the money; not the real Steve Mason.
In pursuit of his luggage which he’d put through fast track, Steve tried Ruby’s work number. She was manager at a small hotel in the posh end of Bristol, as she’d put it.
“Good afternoon, Durdham Lodge, you’re speaking to Lydia. How can I help you?”
“Oh, hi, could you put me through to Ruby Fisher, please?”
“I’ll try her number for you. Who’s calling please?”
“I’d rather not say, I want it to be a surprise.” Steve wondered if he should have waited until he was out of the airport, the noise and bustling of people was making it hard to concentrate. He held his hand over his other ear. He’d wanted to call before boarding his plane, but with the time difference and everything, the need to just get out of LA, (he was the prime example that men couldn’t multi-task) – it had been the middle of the night in England – he had decided to leave it until landing.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I do need a name to transfer you. It’s company policy. What is the call regarding?” What did Ruby do that ensured her calls needed to be vetted? Even his own PA, Marie wasn’t this tough on private callers.
“I wanted to surprise her. Lydia, it is Lydia, yes?”
“Yes.” She had a soft voice. She sounded young, and he imagined her to be pretty…as pretty as Suzie, but telephone voices could be deceiving. Probably about fifty, married and looked like a dragon, knowing Steve’s luck. He’d have to ask Ruby about Lydia.
“My name’s Steve, and I’m family. We’ve not seen each other in a while; I’d like to surprise her, even if it is on the phone,” Steve said, trying to convey his smile down the line. “Can you trust me on this one? I’ll owe you big time.” A loud tannoy sounded over the arrivals lounge.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear you. There’s a lot of noise in the background,” Lydia said.
“Sorry, I’m at the airport. I’ve just landed.”
“Oh, okay.” Steve had to hand it to Lydia, he understood why she was doing her job properly. He’d often relied on a good receptionist’s vigilance to keep the prying paparazzi from finding out he was staying in a hotel. “So you’re definitely not trying to sell something?” She giggled. It was infectious. If only she knew who she was really speaking to, would she be so at ease?
Steve chuckled. “I promise, hand on my heart, I’m not trying to sell her anything.”
“Okay, I’ll try her line for you.” There was silence, then Lydia came back on the line. “I’m sorry, sir, she’s not in her office at the moment. Would you like to leave a message?”
“No, no, I’ll try again later.” Steve grabbed his case as it finally passed him.
“She’ll be leaving around six tonight. Try her at home after then, maybe?”
“Yes, I’ll do that, thanks for your help. Oh and please don’t mention that I called. Like I said, I want to surprise her.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” Lydia said, then, more hesitantly, “Will we get to meet you?”
“Um, I’m not sure yet. That’ll be up to Ruby. But if we do, I owe you a drink. Thanks for your help, Lydia. It’s been nice talking to you.” Even though disappointment lingered in his thoughts, his spirits had been lifted with his brief conversation with Lydia. She hadn’t known who he was, so had reacted to him normally. If only life could be that simple, maybe he could find a girlfriend.
Steve slipped his phone into his inside pocket and headed through passports and customs. When planning his journey, he’d thought about catching a domestic flight to Bristol, but instead decided he’d hire a car. Driving on the motorway was a better way to stay low and get lost in a crowd.
Steve had ensured he’d drunk enough coffee to keep him awake for the two hour car journey. He needn’t have worried. Concentrating on staying left whilst fighting his way onto the M4 was enough to keep him fully alert. He didn’t remember the British as maniac drivers. Wasn’t the speed limit seventy?
How come they were all doing ninety?
He turned the radio on, tuned into Radio One, and although he no longer recognised the DJs, turned up the volume. It wouldn’t be long, and he’d be home.
***
Alone in his hotel suite Steve took his phone out of his pocket, and checked for messages. None.
Why did he keep thinking he’d see something from Erica? For Christ’s sake, he needed to get a grip. Erica didn’t want him back, she’d moved on. So should he.
Maybe this proved his skin wasn’t thick enough, he wasn’t used to being a celebrity yet. His fame still hadn’t sunk in. Which was ridiculous; he’d had three big movies now – okay, so he’d only been the male lead in one of them, Perfection, which had increased his profile. It had taken a while to get there, some bad films, some bit parts, his career starting with television shows and adverts initially, earning him a keep, but this was it. He’d just finished filming another lead role, and he had another film lined up on the horizon. His agent promised him filmmakers would be knocking on his door wanting Steve Mason, the new Hollywood hunk, in their movies. He’d never be out of work.
Perfection had been a mixture of action and romance, a box office smash putting him up there with the best of them. Instead of chasing for parts, film makers were chasing him. He’d finally done it after a damned hard slog.
His fame would only grow further now. At the moment, he still had an element of freedom; not everybody knew the face of Steve Mason like they knew Tom Cruise. His name was only starting to spread around Hollywood, and that’s why it was important to see Ruby now. His next movie, Nothing Happened was due out next year and after that, everyone would know Steve Mason’s face.
A quick glance at his watch told him it was half past six. His sister should be home from work. He dialled, and waited, praying it wouldn’t go to her answer phone.