Dear Madam,

I’m very honoured by your proposal of marriage. Unfortunately, I am unable to accept as I am married to Jesus.

Kind Regards,

 

 

The villa his friend owns is much more what I anticipated of a film star before I met Asa. Although, I’m starting to think Asa might be an anomaly in all things, so he doesn’t count. The building is a huge, white monstrosity built in the classical style, which basically means lots of columns and arches which might fool you into thinking the Ancient Greeks also had media rooms and five car garages. It’s lit up like Blackpool Illuminations, and we sit in a line of cars waiting to discharge their famous inhabitants.

I crane my neck out of the window to see who is getting out now. “I’m sure that’s Leonardo DiCaprio,” I mutter. “Got to be, because he’s in a huge limo. Probably been talking at a climate conference,” I add disapprovingly, and Asa snorts.

I slump back into my seat. “I’ve counted five supermodels and three Oscar winners so far, and we’ve only been here for fifteen minutes.” I nudge Asa. “I’d love to see this at your house. How do you think they’d manage sharing the table with Michael the plumber while he tells tales about backed up toilets?” I laugh. “Or washing up. I’m trying to imagine Kanye West if he was given a pair of marigolds and told to get on with it, like last week with Hugh Dennison.”

He laughs out loud and then shoots me a look. “I’d rather be there now,” he mutters.

“Really?” I ask in disbelief, and his face falls.

“Oh, I’m sorry. You’re obviously excited.”

I stare at him. “Well, yes, but not about this.” His face clears and I nudge him. “Dude, you’re fucking me tonight. There is no way I’m swapping that for sitting around the kitchen table eating Peggy’s cottage pie.” He roars with laughter, and I look him up and down. “Of course, by tomorrow, cottage pie might look pretty attractive.” I sniff. “I guess I’ll reserve my judgement.”

“Cottage pie or cock,” he muses.

“You can borrow it for the title of your autobiography if you want, for a small fee.”

“What’s the fee?” He’s looking at me as if fascinated, all his attention on me. It’s a heady feeling.

“Maybe a small island.” I narrow my fingers together. “A teeny one.”

He shakes his head. “How about an evening spent drinking rosé on the veranda under the stars, and then a night spent fucking.”

I stare at him and the silence stretches like warm toffee. “I would take that. Over all of this, I would choose that option.”

The sudden opening of the car door breaks into the silence, and I smile at the driver as I get out. I can feel Asa’s dark shadow behind me, like an invisible superhero cape shielding me from everything.

We’re greeted at the door by uniformed attendants who hand us glasses of champagne. My glass is so cold it makes my fingers hurt. I smile my thanks and a few minutes later discreetly hide it on a table filled with obviously priceless porcelain.

Asa watches me wryly. “Not a fan?”

“It gives me a headache,” I confide. “I’m more of a Budweiser boy, to be honest.”

“Yeah, me too,” he mutters, the stemmed glass looking ridiculously flimsy in his large hand.

A voice hails him, and I turn to see a small, dark-haired man walking towards us with his arms outstretched.

“Asa, good to see you,” he says heartily. He turns to me and does a double take. I smile wryly. I’ve got a feeling I’ll be seeing a lot of those tonight. I waggle my fingers at him and Asa smirks as the man hugs him.

“Julian, good to see you again. This is Jude Bailey,” Asa says, but after a quick up and down, Julian dismisses me and turns back to the main attraction.

“How are you?” he asks in a low voice, using his body to subtly edge me out.

Asa gives him a wry look and grabs my elbow, bringing me back into the conversation. “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He huffs. “Well, because of Phillip. Oh, I’m sorry.” He puts his hand over his mouth. “Was I not allowed to say his name?”

“He’s not Voldemort,” I mutter, and Asa laughs, but being the kind person he is, he tries to put him at ease.

“I’m fine,” he says. “Of course you can mention Phillip.”

Julian sighs and grabs his arm. “He’s sorry, Asa.” Asa recoils slightly and the small man clutches on harder. “He’s really sorry. He just felt backed into a corner by you and Max, and he lost his temper.” He stares at Asa. “He wants to see you.”

Asa pulls his arm away. “Fuck, no. Not in a million years. I never want to see him again.”

“But if you’d just see him and let him talk to you. You owe him that, Asa.”

“I don’t owe him anything.”

Julian looks smug. “Four years together says differently. You both love each other. I’m sure you can work this little blip out.”

Asa looks incredulous. “Julian, a little blip is one of us continually leaving the toilet seat up. It’s certainly not telling the British people that I like a dildo up my arse.”

I smirk, but when Julian looks like he’s going to continue the argument, I sigh heavily. He looks at me in annoyance, but I ignore him and turn to Asa. “Can we go and get a drink, darling? I’m so thirsty.”

Asa’s lip curls and he shrugs at Julian, before letting me tow him off.

“You’ll thank me later,” Julian calls out, before sliding back into the crowd.

Asa stares after him, a troubled look on his face. “What did he mean?”

“Fuck knows. For all the sense he’s made so far he might as well have been talking in Swahili.” I pull him after me. “Come on. Let’s go and get a proper drink, for fuck’s sake.”

We make our slow way through the crowd, and it’s immediately apparent, no matter how little Asa acts it, he is a huge deal. Well known stars call out his name, and pull him into hugs and conversations. He smiles and laughs and charms, and it’s apparent he’s well liked, but I can see the difference in him from my reality. His eyes are slightly tight, his smile a little forced, and he keeps a death grip on my hand, pulling me determinedly into all the conversations like a six foot five steam roller.

I shift subtly from foot to foot, and give my practised model smile at the couple we’re currently talking to. It’s part grin, part pout, and facilitates me being able to strut around catwalks in my underwear. The lady I’m talking to smiles at me and runs her fingernails down my arm. “My, you are a pretty one,” she murmurs, invitation clear in every inch of her body. I grin and step back slightly, but she’s not having it. “So you’re a model then?” she asks, grabbing my arm. Asa looks up immediately, his dark gaze on me heavy with glee as she continues talking. “It must be a glamorous job. How do you stay so fit looking?” She runs her hand down my chest and I shoot a look at her husband, but he’s talking earnestly to Asa and hasn’t noticed. “Such muscles,” she coos. “What do you eat to maintain them?”

“Mostly fish and chips and Mars bars,” I say earnestly, and she gapes at me.

Asa snorts and covers it with a cough.

“Really?” she asks, and I nod emphatically

“Absolutely. I don’t get out of bed unless someone’s done a run to the corner shop.”

Her husband looks up at that point. “So, Asa, do you do your own stunts? You must need something to do beyond staring at a camera.”

Asa stares at him. “Of course not,” he says piously. “What would happen to the world if I got hurt?”

I laugh and turn it into a cough, but it’s quickly apparent we haven’t offended them, as they immediately go back to talking about portfolios and the city.

Asa smiles his excuse and tows me after him. “Where are we going?” I hiss. “Tell me it’s either towards a bar or a handy escape route.”

He shakes his head. “There aren’t any here. It’s like Dante’s ‘Inferno’. Each circle of hell leads to another one. We’re presently heading towards the circle who like to talk about Botox extensively.”

I nudge him. “Look at you being all literary and shit. Who knew?”

He snorts out a disgusting laugh. “Who knew?” He opens his mouth to say something else, but his face changes, setting into hard lines and a closed expression. I register the anticipatory hush around us and even before I turn around I know I’m going to see -

“Phillip!” Asa says harshly.

The tall, dark-haired man moves easily towards us, looking perfect in tight, forest green chinos, a white t-shirt and loafers. His curly dark hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and his face is a mixture of sorrow and appeal. “Asa,” he says as he comes closer. “I need to speak to you.”

Asa shoots a look around at the party which has virtually come to a standstill, like a freeze frame has been applied.

“Out by the pool,” I say quietly. “There aren’t many people out there. It’s too breezy.”

He nods and indicates to Phillip that he follow us. I walk next to him in silent support, and it stings because he doesn’t even seem aware I’m here.

We skirt the edge of the pool moving into a darker corner. The water is glowing neon blue from the underwater lighting, making it look almost surreal. Asa spins around. His face is shadowed, and lit only by the flickering glow of the tiki lights that are dotted about.

“Asa,” Phillip says entreatingly.

“What do you want?” he says calmly, his voice as cold as an ice pop on a sunny day.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Why?” The question is bald, falling into the stillness like a stone.

Phillip looks bewildered, and I want to punch him in the throat. “Well, because I have to tell you something.”

“So you gave me no choice and decided to just force yourself on me?”

Incredibly, Phillip shrugs and smiles. “I knew you’d want to see me.” Asa shakes his head and Phillip gestures. “Tell me you’re not glad to see me, Asa. You love me.” His eyes show a liquid sheen.

“Christ, it’s like watching Gwyneth Paltrow win an Oscar,” I mutter, and Asa jerks and looks at me.

“Aren’t you a little young for that reference?”

I shrug, glad to see a little humour in those dead eyes. “My mum was fascinated with it. It was held up to Dylan and I as the epitome of what an award acceptance speech should never be, in the unlikely event of us ever becoming film stars.” I smirk. “Obviously she meant Oscar winning film stars, because any old Tom, Dick or Harry can get an Emmy or a Tony.”

“Obviously,” he says dryly. “Thank you for that touching homily.”

“You’re welcome,” I say happily, and Phillip stirs.

“Excuse me,” he says sharply. “Who the fuck are you?” I turn to face him and he gasps. “You’re Jude Bailey.”

“I was the last time I looked.”

He looks me up and down. “I worked with you in Zagreb, didn’t I?”

I nod and Asa starts as God knows what thoughts are going through his head. I shake my head. “Not my cup of tea,” I say firmly, holding his eyes and he relaxes.

“Oh please,” Phillip sneers. “You’d have a go at this if you thought you stood a chance.”

“Only if I’d been prepared to form a queue,” I say smoothly. “You were a busy boy if I remember.” I look him up and down, a sneer on my face. “Fucking hell, your hole must be wider than the Channel Tunnel.”

“Fuck off, you little bitch,” he hisses, and Asa stirs.

“Is there something you want from me, Phillip?” he says coldly, his face inscrutable. “Ask now, because this is the last time I’ll ever talk to you.”

Phillip frowns. “But I want to say sorry,” he says prettily. “I really am. You and Max just gave me no choice.”

“You always had a choice. It just didn’t pay out as much as the one million you were asking from me.”

I gasp and Phillip glares impotently at me, before turning back to Asa. “We were together for four fucking years, Asa. I helped you to raise Billy. We lived together, we slept together. We had everything, and one little mistake and you won’t give me the time of day anymore.”

“It’s eleven minutes past time for you to fuck off,” I say sharply, unbearably stung by his mentioning Billy and all the memories these two must share. Doubt stirs. Would he go back to him? I feel a sudden dull pain in my stomach and rub it absently.

Asa shakes his head at me, his face unreadable. Then he looks back at Phillip. “That’s what you call fucking my former best friend for six months behind my back – one little mistake?

“We had an open relationship for so long. Just because you changed and wanted to join the establishment, it didn’t mean I found it easy. Jason and I were a mistake, and it didn’t mean anything, anyway. You knew that, and you still kicked me out.”

Asa shakes his head. “It might have been your first hint that it did mean something to me,” he says coldly. “And I have to say your selling me out has rather solidified that pissed off feeling.”

I smirk, but Phillip’s attention is all on Asa, his eyes feverishly mapping every line and angle of his body like he’s the last cream cake on the plate. I repress the urge to stand in front of him and shield him. Instead, I watch as Asa folds his arms, chilly disinterest clear in his stance. For a second, despair runs across Phillip’s face along with an avid sadness, and then he clears it of all expression.

“You threw me out without a penny, Asa. What was I supposed to do?”

“Erm, get a job,” he says smoothly, and I snort.

Phillip glares at me. “Why is he here with us?” he says pettishly, and then he stills. “Tell me you’re not fucking this?” Asa looks up and catches my gaze. His eyes are dark and intense and I stand, held by them like a fly in honey. Phillip makes a sound of disgust. “Fuck me, Asa. You must be getting desperate in your old age. Still, the more you pay, the prettier they get.”

“He can’t have paid much for you then,” I burst out. “You’re fucking ugly down to the bone.”

“How dare you.”

I shrug. “I dare a lot quite frankly.” I pause. “Apart from bungee jumping. That oddly, has no appeal to me.” Asa’s shoulders are shaking, so I carry blithely on. “And in answer to your question, Asa is most definitely doing me, every single minute he can.”

His face twists. “Well, I hope you’re happy with my sloppy seconds, darling. You’re nothing. A cheap, little model who anyone can have, and has done. He’ll move on from you at the same time as you change the sheets.”

“Coming from someone who’s had more pricks than a second-hand dartboard, you’ll excuse me if I don’t take that to heart.”

Asa breaks in, his voice cold and clear. “Enough. Jude is a friend of mine. I care for him and I don’t want you talking to him like that, Phillip.”

“You don’t want me talking to him like that? What about the way he spoke to me?”

Asa smiles. “You’re not seriously expecting me to stick up for you, are you? I stuck up for you for years, Phillip. I defended you when people told me you were a user. I argued when they told me you were an empty-headed gold-digger, in love with himself and no one else.” He looks him up and down. “What a waste of all that time.”

Phillip flinches, before taking a breath and rallying. “Oh, really, and what does he have to offer?” he sneers. “Because I know Jude Bailey. He’s never stuck with anything in his life. So, why the fuck would he stick around for a middle-aged man and a child?”

“Because this man is the funniest, warmest, sexiest man I’ve ever met,” I say quietly. “And his son is epic.” Asa jerks and looks at me, but I’m on a roll. “And maybe I don’t stay, but one thing’s for sure - when I move on, it won’t be because he’s not good enough for me. It’ll be completely the opposite.” I lean closer. “And at least when I go, I leave them smiling, not betrayed. Don’t think I’ll be selling my story because in my opinion, only whores do that.” I shrug. “You had him. You fucked up. Move on.”

His face twists and I can practically see the snap as he loses his temper and shoves me. “Don’t you fucking tell me what to do.”

Asa swerves as if he’s going to come to my aid, but I shake my head and he subsides. I grab Phillip’s arm as he goes to move back. “Don’t ever put a finger on me,” I say slowly. “I don’t like it, I don’t like you, and I don’t know where you’ve been.” I peel his fingers off me painstakingly, and as I do, the gleam of the pool catches my eye and an idea kindles. My fingers tighten and I look up, catching his eyes. Something in my expression must warn him as he looks alarmed, but before he can pull away, I push him, and watch with satisfaction as he flies backwards, his arms wind milling as he lands in the pool with a gigantic splash.

He surfaces, his hair a sopping wet mess, and his mouth open in astonishment. Asa gapes at me. “Jude, oh my God,” he sighs, rubbing his eyes.

I laugh and then shout out, “Oh no, he’s fallen in. Quick, help him.” I pick up a cushion from one of the loungers and lob it at him. “Take that cushion, Phillip, and hold on for the love of God.”

“Jude!” Asa hisses. “Jesus Christ.”

I ignore him and chuck another cushion which smacks Phillip neatly in the face. “Whatever you do, do not put your head under and inhale the water,” I shout out at Phillip who is treading water and gaping angrily at me. “It is not what is needed in this situation. Neither should you under any circumstances grab a rock and sink to the bottom. Please, absolutely don’t do that.”

“Okay.” Asa elongates the words, and grabbing my arm he tows me away, putting his other hand up to Julian as he comes towards us. “Forget it,” he snaps. “You’ve done enough. Go and help get your friend dry.”

Ignoring the stares and whispers, he tows me through the party, but instead of going towards the front door he makes a beeline for a set of stairs leading upwards. Towing me behind him like a truculent tug boat, he moves quickly up, and I follow obediently as he opens doors, looks inside and then shakes his head. Finally, he finds what he’s obviously looking for and shoves me through a door. I stare at him as he follows me in and reaches behind him to lock it.

I look around and we’re in what is obviously a small study for guests. It’s filled with a couple of book shelves and a desk and chair.

Asa leans back against the door, his breathing sounding loud in the quietness of this room.

I feel a smattering of apprehension. Shit, I’ve fucked him off. He steps forward and I hold up my hand. “Look, I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “I should never have said or done that, and I - ouf!”

My breath is forced out in a rush as he grabs me by my shirt, twisting me around and pushing me against the wall. He crowds in against me and for a long second, he stares at me, his panting breaths hitting me in the face. Then he grabs my face, angles it and smashes his mouth into mine. He forces his tongue in deep and I groan under my breath and tangle my tongue with his, tasting the dry tartness of champagne.

He pulls back and stares at me, his eyes blown and dark and his expression inscrutable. “I want to fuck you,” he says deeply. “Here. Now.”

I stare at him for a long moment, and then grin widely. “Now, that’s more like it,” I say happily, and grabbing a handful of his hair, I pull him towards me.