Teresa Morgan - One Fine Day

Ruby’s kitchen was small, so he took a seat at her dining table. The lounge-diner was a good size, for someone living on their own. Behind the three-seater sofa, a wall of books and CDs stood in a large shelving unit. Ruby had always had her nose in a book from an early age, but when he’d left home, she’d just been finding music, much to Mum’s annoyance.

He could fit this whole house in his living room. He hadn’t lived in his apartment quite a year yet, but it was amazing how he’d got used to the space.

He was having a wake-up call to normality.

He remembered how, as his money poured in from the increasing film work, and the fame too, he’d instantly needed a more secure apartment. Being famous had its drawbacks. When your face is plastered over a movie screen, and then glossy magazines, women fall in love with your character, or you. It could get a bit scary in public – as he was starting to find out. He’d thought he was used to female attention – and had a rude awakening. It very soon became apparent he needed a bodyguard, to stop the girls from hurling themselves at him.

Hopefully, now in England, he’d left the crazies behind.

Hopefully .

Ruby plonked a plate of marmalade on toast in front of him, and a cup of black coffee. She came out with the sugar bowl and milk jug. He frowned.

“You don’t have to do anything special for me.”

“Don’t get too excited, it’s instant.” Ruby held her hand up in defence, noticing Steve’s look of distaste. “Hey, you sprung this on me. If you’d called, I’d have got stuff in special, proper coffee, even baked a cake.”

Steve poured some milk into his coffee mug, and took a sip. It was wet and warm at least.

“But I wasn’t sure how you liked it, or what you were used to. You’re not some weird celebrity with silly OCDs now, are you? You don’t have to wash your hands every time you touch something?”

He laughed, putting the mug down. “No, but I always wash my hands after using the bathroom.”

“You never used to! Not as a teenager, anyway.”

“Please don’t tell the press.”

“It’ll cost you.”

Then, there was an awkward silence, as though their joking had run out of fizz. Like they didn’t really know what to say to one another. Strangers.

“God, I’ve missed you,” she said, as if reading Steve’s mind, wanting to remove their silence. Ruby threw her arms around his neck, and he hugged her back, surprised by her sudden outburst.

“I’ve missed you too, Roo.”

She smiled. “Right, enough of the soppiness, we need to get you transformed.” She let go of him. There was a brief change in her expression as she regained composure, and then she finished her own toast.

“Is this really going to work?” He wasn’t liking the word transformed .

“Yes, I’m positive. As long as you stick to the rules, and keep your head down, it should be fine.” Steve frowned as she spoke. “It worked for Clark Kent, it can work for you.”

“This is how I’m going to find my Lois, huh?”

“Absolutely.” Then, she looked him up and down, hand to her chin, contemplatively. “Hmmm…take your watch off.”

“What?”

“It looks expensive. I don’t doubt it is expensive. So take it off. You’re hardly going to blend in wearing a watch that costs more than most people’s wages. This is about changing your image. We’ll buy another one later.”

Steve did as he was told and removed his Jaeger-LeCoultre watch, sighing heavily. Luckily, he’d pulled on some jeans, a T-shirt and his leather jacket, trying to make sure he didn’t stand out.

“And you better lose the designer stubble.”

“Hey, I can’t help the shadow. Something Dad passed on to me.”

“Well, you’re going to have to shave regularly – not once every five days.”

“I could do with a shower,” he hinted.

“Okay, grab a towel from the airing cupboard, I’ll clear this lot up – and make sure you shave,” she said sternly.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Steve quickly finished his toast and took his coffee with him. When he returned thirty minutes later, clean-shaven, Ruby had cleared the breakfast things and had her hands in the sink, washing up. Her tiny kitchen had no space for a dishwasher it seemed. He dumped his dirty mug into the washing up bowl and she cleaned it, putting it on the draining board with the rest of the things. Drying her hands, she gave Steve another look up and down.

“Okay, you’ll do for now. Let’s go shopping.”

He couldn’t remember Ruby being so bossy. He was starting to think it wasn’t a good thing.

The first thing Ruby did was park up in the high street and took Steve to a cash point. “Take as much out as you can. The less you use your credit card the better – it’s got your name on it, I assume.”

“Yeah…”

“Right, well, we don’t need someone questioning anything, so use cash.”

When had she got so bright, so street-wise, so mistrustful? Had she watched too many thriller movies? Next she’d be donning dark glasses and constantly looking over her shoulder.

“How much am I going to need?” he said, pulling out his wallet.

Ruby put her hand on her hip, and looked again at Steve, speculatively. He could almost see the cogs turning as she worked it out. “Well, you’re going to need a new wardrobe, haircut, and you can buy me lunch.” She grinned, flashing her straight, white teeth. Wasn’t he supposed to be the one with the persuasive smile?

Once he’d withdrawn his maximum cash limit, from two credit cards, Ruby grabbed his arm, and they walked down the quiet high street. Steve secured his favourite, well-worn LA baseball cap on his head. He found that if he kept his nose to the ground the cap hid his face well.

“First things first, let’s fix your hair before we head over to Cribbs.”

“I like my hair.”

“Yes, but it looks very Steve Mason,” she said, lowering her voice when she got to his name. “We need to change your image from gorgeous actor to mediocre man.”

Steve frowned warily.

“It’s nice, bit longer than the last time I saw you. Maybe we need a short back and sides.”

“But I’ve got a film in three months.”

“It’s hair! It’ll grow back. Trust me.”

“Why don’t we get a bowl and just cut round that,” Steve said dryly.

“Don’t tempt me. But we do need to keep you semi-respectable otherwise you won’t attract anyone.” She dragged him towards a hairdressers. She walked inside then stopped. He’d seen it too. He tugged the cap down further over his face. A coffee table laden with glossy magazines, old issues – one with Steve Mason on the front page with Erica Kealey. Giving Steve an apologetic smile, Ruby pulled on his arm and they walked back out before anyone noticed, and continued further down the high street – Steve more sombre than Ruby – to a barbershop. Men only. No glossy magazines, and if there were, it would be cars, cars, cars. And the odd issue of Nuts .

Did he really have to cut his hair? He’d grown it for his last movie, where he needed to play the smooth hero. It was around the nape of his neck, and if un-gelled like today, it had a mad unkempt look.

“Isn’t there somewhere more…designer?” Steve swallowed, looking up at the barber’s sign over the door – specifying cheap cuts. Would they make a mess of his beautiful hair? He liked his hair – just the way it was. He had a particular barber he visited in LA who he trusted, who cut his hair the way Steve preferred. It cost him but he didn’t care.

“There’s nothing wrong with this place.” Ruby grabbed his arm.