Teresa Morgan - One Fine Day

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.

“Hello?” The voice sounded dubious. He was lost for words, momentarily, and she cut in, “If this is one of those bloody sales calls, will you just piss off!”

“No, it’s not a bloody sales call.” Laughter laced his words.

“Who’s that?”

“Ruby, it’s me.”

“Who’s me ?” she said impatiently.

“Steve.”

“Steve…Where are you?”

“The Hilton in Bristol.”

“No you’re not. Where are you really?” she said dryly.

He laughed. “I am. I swear, The Hilton, Bristol.”

“Which one?” She still didn’t believe him, her tone dubious.

“The one just off the M5.” He sighed, losing his patience.

“Bloody hell! I’ll be right over. I assume you’d prefer to be tucked away in your room?”

“Yeah, for now. We’ll have dinner here, I’ve got a suite.”

“Oh, um, what name should I ask for?”

“You won’t need a name, just come up.” He gave her the room number and ended the call, then started unpacking his things. Not that he’d be able to stay here long. Someone would work out who he really was and before he knew it, the paps would arrive.

***

“Where’s my British brother gone? What’s with the accent?”

Ruby had turned up half an hour later and hugged him. She’d changed so much since the last time he’d seen her. Lost some weight, and cut off all of her hair. It suited her though; she looked like a younger version of their mother with her tomboy hairstyle.

“Well, you tend to pick it up…and I needed to sound less British to get better parts. I have been living in LA fifteen years.”

“Don’t I know it, and you’re brown as a berry.” She gently prodded him. “Is it fake tan?”

“No.”

“Oh, well, you’ll soon lose that here. It’s turned so cold. So, what brings you home?”

“You.”

A stab of guilt hit him, realising his agent had encouraged him to visit Ruby. It hadn’t come from Steve; hadn’t entered his thoughts initially, as he was still carrying a slight niggle of resentment about his mother’s death. Damn, he was really glad to be here.

“Me?” Ruby said with disbelief.

“Let’s order some food and then we can talk,” Steve said, finding the room service menu. This was going to be tough. He hardly knew her now, but he wanted to get some time back with her. Catch up, talk about things. Mum, even Erica. Could he tell Ruby about Erica?

The room service arrived and Ruby and Steve sat around the small table. Ruby insisted she didn’t want wine, she’d drive home as she needed her car for work the next morning.

“So,” Ruby put her fork down and rested her elbow on the table, “when does your next film start?”

“Starts shooting in three months. Marie will let me know when they send the revised script through.”

“Marie?”

“She’s my personal assistant.”

“Is she pretty?”

“She’s forty-nine and married with two teenage kids.” He looked at her dead pan.

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Okay, so for someone who’s worth a million dollars, you’re looking pretty miserable. What’s up with you?”

“You read the papers, right?”

“Not really – full of tripe most of the time. Quick glimpse at OK or Hello when I’m in the hairdressers, but that’s about it. Oh, and I might catch the front pages of the newspapers before they head up to the rooms. But I don’t like reading stuff about you.” She shrugged.

“I was seeing Erica Kealey. We met filming Perfection .” During the making of the movie a passion had been ignited within them – it hadn’t helped they’d had a lot of love scenes. On and off the set, they couldn’t get enough of one another. Steve had believed Erica was his soul mate.

“ The Erica Kealey? Wow! I did see you were going to marry your leading lady and was wondering where my wedding invite was, admittedly.” Ruby scowled.

“Yeah, well, we broke up.” Over a year later, when they’d made wedding plans for next spring – albeit loose ones, then she’d ended it all. She hadn’t even given him a backwards glance.