Grantley
Walking into my suite, I sensed that Phoebe was dragging her feet and was feeling a little uneasy. I knew it was because we were alone, since after seeing us up to the suite, Barney had gone off to see his lady-friend.
“You want a drink?” I asked her while shaking off my coat.
“A cup of tea would be lovely,” she replied. “I’ll make it.”
“What, you don’t trust my tea-making skills?”
“Well,” she said with a smile. “You are American.”
“What are you trying to say about my people?” I laughed, realizing with a certain amount of shock that she’d made me laugh, yet again.
“That you’re rubbish at making tea.”
Phoebe took off her own coat and went to hang it over the back of one of the dining chairs.
“Hey, let me put that in my closet,” I offered, reaching for her long, blue coat.
Phoebe’s cheeks blushed as she handed it to me and she looked so cute, I just wanted to kiss her. Shit, I’d wanted to kiss her since Marcia turned up.
“Thank you.”
“No problem.”
I gave her a quick wink and walked into my room, hanging our coats next to each other in my closet. Listening to Phoebe opening cupboards and clattering cups in the kitchen, I went into the bathroom and reached for my mouthwash. I didn’t want to jump the gun, but if I did get to kiss her, I didn’t want my breath smelling like shit.
After taking a quick swig and then spitting, I reached for my cologne and dabbed a little on to my neck. It was my favorite one and was not the one that I advertised – that one smelled like horse nuts- well, at least to me it did. Fresh breath and sexy smell, hopefully meant I was fully prepared if I got lucky enough to kiss Phoebe.
Taking a deep breath, I left the bedroom. I didn’t feel nervous per say, but there was excitement buzzing around in my gut. Phoebe was a pretty girl; with her fair skin and caramel hair with matching eyes, but more than that, she was funny and interesting. She wasn’t a yes girl just because I was the movie star. She was honest and real, and in my business, you rarely met anyone like that.
“Hey,” I said, as I walked into the kitchen area. “Did you find everything you need?”
Phoebe swung around and gave me a dazzling smile. “This coffee machine is amazing,” she replied with an enthusiastic sing-song to her voice. “I need to get Beth one of these for her birthday.”
She turned back around and continued watching the mug being filled. The excitement on her face warming my heart.
“I prefer a jug myself.”
As I moved to stand beside her, Phoebe looked up at me with a twinkle in her eyes.
“No way, this is much more fun.”
“If you say so.” I chuckled and gave her shoulder a squeeze.
I didn’t miss the little shiver her body gave and it excited me. I wanted her to want me. I wanted her to care about me. I wanted her to enjoy being with me. I wanted her, period.
When the machine finished, Phoebe passed me the mug and then turned back to stir the cup of tea that she’d already made.
“Sorry,” she said, without facing me. “You do take it black, don’t you?”
“Black is perfect.” I replied, watching her carefully.
Her arms were slim and elegant, and her hands tiny with long fingers. With her long hair pulled over one shoulder, I could see her smooth neck and the jut of her chin as she looked around with a teabag on the end of a teaspoon.
“Where’s the bin?” she asked, turning to look at me.
I reached around her and opened up a cupboard door.
“Et voila.” Inside were two trash bins, one grey and one green.
“Oh how cool is that too.” She slapped the teabag into the grey bin. “We’ve just got a boring pedal bin at home. I tell you, Beth really needs to see this place.”
“You could come over one weekend, with Beth and the boys. If you like.”
What the hell was happening to me? The Grantley James from two weeks ago would never have invited her over, never mind a couple of kids and their single mom. But the Grantley James from two weeks ago hadn’t met Phoebe Drinkwater.
“Oh I don’t know about that,” she replied, with a tinkling laugh. “I’m not sure you’d like the noise the boys would make with that piano.”
“Well, maybe we could all do something,” I heard myself saying. “I hear there’s a couple of great museums in the city.”
She looked at me and nodded. “That sounds good. So, Barney has a girlfriend close by?”
And that was the subject changed.
“Oh my goodness,” Phoebe sighed, rubbing her stomach. “That was amazing.”
“You’ve still got your caramel ice-cream cheesecake to eat.”
“My what?”
She screwed up her little nose and furrowed her brow.
“Caramel ice-cream cheesecake.”
“You mean ca-ra-mel,” she giggled.
“That’s what I said, caramel.”
“No, you said carmel. You left the second ‘a’ out.”
“No I said it correctly. You’re the one who said it wrong.”
I leaned back in my chair, watching her closely. God damn she was pretty.
“You Americans say everything weird,” she muttered, taking a sip of her wine.
“I think you’ll find you’re the ones who can’t pronounce words properly.”
“Okay, look at the way you say route.”
“Route.” I corrected her.
“It’s not spelt r.o.w.t. There’s an oo in the middle.”
“You know you’re wrong.” A smile flickered at my lips at the horrified look on her face.
“No, I’m not. It is called the English language or have you forgotten that?”
“Nope, but doesn’t mean you say it right.”
“Yes we do. Seriously Grantley, I have no idea how you can think leverage should be pronounced levaridge. Ridiculous.”
She really did look pissed and I wanted to laugh. She had her hands thrown in the air and her voice had a real tone of despair.
“Tomayto, tomahto,” I replied with a grin. “Who cares?”
Phoebe’s eyes narrowed on me as she smiled. “You’re so annoying.”
“Yep, I know. Now, do you want your carmel ice-cream cheesecake?”
“No thank you,” she said haughtily. “But I will have my caramel ice-cream cheesecake.”
I shook my head and rolled my eyes.
“Whatever.”
With a chuckle, I got up and went into the kitchen to retrieve our desserts from the refrigerator. When I opened it up, I noticed another bottle of wine in there and decided that a couple more glasses each wouldn’t hurt. I had to be up fairly early for the drive to the location shoot, but I could sleep in the car if necessary. Managing both desserts in one hand, I picked up the wine with the other.
“Here you go,” I placed the plates on the table. “It looks pretty good.”
“Wow, look at you,” Phoebe said, sitting back in her chair and pointing at me. “Were you a waiter in a past life?”
“Actually, yeah. I waited tables for a summer when I first got to LA.”
“Really? Was it a nice restaurant?”
I laughed out loud and shook my head. “God no. It was a crummy backstreet diner, but they made the best pancakes around and it was close to Fox studios, so producers and directors were always coming in.”
“So you gave them your best customer service?” Phoebe asked with a smile.
“But of course.” I tilted my head and winked at her.
“And did it work?”
I burst out laughing. “Like hell it did. Every damn waiter, barman, and store clerk in LA is an actor looking for a break, so they were pretty adapt at ignoring me. I did meet Marcia there though. After she relocated from New York.”
“It was definitely worth it then.”
“I guess so. She got me where I am today. I owe her a lot.”
I sighed, thinking back to how many free breakfasts I had to give Marcia before she’d even agree to talk to me. She’d been a hard nut to crack, but she’d been behind me all the way since then.
“What made you want to be an actor?” Phoebe asked, pushing her cheesecake around her plate with a dessert fork. “I have to admit, I Googled you and it said you were a promising baseball star at High School, but gave it up when you were sixteen.”
I cringed inwardly, wondering what else she’d read about me. It wasn’t a secret Sue-Ann had raised me alone and that we didn’t get along, but me and Marcia had worked hard to be sure no one knew how bad my life had been with her. Yeah, it may have made a great story, but I didn’t want every interview I did to be about me overcoming adversity to make it big. I just wanted to be asked about my acting.
“I always liked the idea of acting,” I finally said. “I just thought I’d get more girls by playing baseball.”
Phoebe rolled her eyes. “Why does that not surprise me?”
“What does that mean?” I asked, nudging her leg with my foot.
“Well, you’re a bit of ladies’ man aren’t you?”
She forked a small amount of cheesecake and popped it into her mouth. Her lips closed around it and she momentarily closed her eyes, obviously savoring the taste.
“Good?” I asked.
“Hmm.” She nodded and grinned around the fork. “Delicious. Anyway, stop avoiding my question.”
“Didn’t realize it was a question,” I retorted, knowing that’s exactly what it was. “I thought you were making a statement.”
“Well whatever, you are a ladies man. At least I think you are.”
“And I think your accusations are unfounded, Miss Drinkwater. Do you ever see me in the media with lots of different women?”
She thought about it, twirling her fork around in the air. “Hmm, now you mention it, no not really.”
I tipped my glass to her. “There you go. I’ve had two serious girlfriends in the last five years. Before that, I admit I was a serial dater, but there wasn’t always sex involved.”
Phoebe’s cheeks pinked and she quickly looked back down at her dessert. Shit, was she a fucking virgin? Or was she just one of those uptight Brits?
“You want to change the subject?” I asked around a laugh.
Phoebe’s head shot up. “No. You can talk about your dating history if you want to.”
I leaned across the table and whispered. “Just not the sex part.”
“I said you can if you want to.” Phoebe began to tuck into her cheesecake again, feigning nonchalance, but her still pink cheeks said otherwise.
“Nope,” I replied. “I don’t want to.”
It was true, I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to talk to her about the many girls I’d slept with, because being in LA was like being a kid let loose in FAO Schwarz with unlimited credit. I didn’t regret it, but all kids grew out of wanting toys eventually. I wasn’t ashamed. What young guy wouldn’t spread the love if it was handed to him on a plate? I just didn’t talk about anything that wasn’t important to me, and call me a douchebag, but those girls weren’t important to me – just as I wasn’t to them either.
“Okay, so how serious were your girlfriends? I didn’t see anything on Google about them.”
“Wow, you really did do some research didn’t you?”
“God, I’m sorry.” Phoebe blushed again. “Please don’t think I’m stalking you or anything like that.”
She looked at me anxiously, sucking on her bottom lip, and I had a real yearning to set it free with my thumb - mainly so I could suck on it myself. Giving myself a little inward shake, I moved my eyes away from her lips and attempted to concentrate on the conversation.
“I’m not mad, Phoebe,” I said softly. “I’m in the public eye, my story is out there for anyone to see. You just won’t find much about me before I moved to LA, being a high school baseball star aside.”
“I guess people are only interested in your acting career.”
I shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe, I just buried it.”
Phoebe’s mouth dropped open as she stared at me. It was written all over her face that she was wondering what had happened in my life that I’d felt the need to keep it hidden. But, when she picked up her wine glass and took a sip, it was evident that she’d decided not to ask. Maybe it was the fear of hearing my story, because there was worry etched on her pretty features. Worry that I didn’t want her to feel.
“It was nothing horrific, Phoebe,” I said softly. “I just don’t want people knowing that my mother was probably one of the worst moms on record.”
“Please tell me she didn’t hit you or…” Her barely audible voice trailed off, but I heard the words she didn’t say.
“No,” I replied with a sigh. “She didn’t hit me or anything else. What she did do was neglect me. I pretty much brought myself up after my dad left.”
Phoebe’s eyes glistened as she leaned forward to listen to me and I could feel the sympathy emanating from her.
“I’ve never told anyone but Marcia and Barney about this,” I said, pushing away my wine glass.
“You don’t have to tell me either. Honestly Grantley, it’s your business and I should never have brought it up.”
I watched her carefully. Seeing the apprehension on her face and the compassion in her eyes, I knew I wanted her to hear it. She was my friend and friends shared their deepest secrets. Yeah, it didn’t escape me that I had never told my two serious girlfriends anything at all about my childhood, and I’d lived with one of them. Living with Serena had been really short-lived, just a couple of months, even though we tried real hard to make it work. Yet, I never divulged any of what I was going to tell Phoebe.
“When my dad left, I’d like to say it was what made Sue-Ann fall apart, but it wasn’t. She was an out of control drunk way before that. I think my dad covered for her being a shit mom while he was around. He was the one who took an interest in me, and in hindsight, I realize he was the one who kept Sue-Ann together and cajoled her into behaving like a mom. Once he left though, there was no one to cover for her and it was pretty clear she was not meant for motherhood.”
“And yet your dad still left you with her?” Phoebe took in a deep breath. “Oh my God, that’s awful. He’s as bad as her.”
I nodded and gave her a tight smile. “Yeah, you’re right, he’s just as fucking bad.”
“Yet you still call him dad, but she’s Sue-Ann.”
I’d never thought about that before, but she was right. I had no idea why I did that.
“I don’t know, maybe because he was a great dad before he left – the best in fact – that still gives him the right to be called dad. Who knows?” I shrugged. “I guess most of my memories are of her and the miserable life we had together.”
“I know I have a bad relationship with my parents,” Phoebe replied. “But they did at least care for me and kept me safe.”
“Well Sue-Ann was all kinds of shit.” I laughed emptily. “She would leave me for days at a time, alone in the house without much food, while she went off and got stoned or drunk with whatever guy she was lusting after at the time. I always knew when she was going to do a disappearing act, because she’d give me ten dollars before I went to school. She’d always say ‘just in case you need anything, baby boy’ and then that night I’d get home and she’d be gone.”
“Oh my God,” Phoebe gasped. “Did no one help you? Did your neighbours not see what was going on?”
“I was pretty good at hiding it. For as much as I hated her and the life we led, I knew it would be a lot worse if I was put in the system. I learned to do laundry and how to make that ten dollars last. I ate a lot of ramen noodles and bought a hell of a lot of bruised fruit. No one, not even my teachers realized what was going on. I even kept up my school work, doing my homework after I’d washed and dried my clothes and cleaned up the house. Anything not to bring attention to the situation.”
“How old were you when your dad left?” Phoebe pushed away her half-eaten dessert and clutched a hand to her chest.
“I was almost six.”
“The same age as the boys,” she whispered. Her head shot up as she looked at me with understanding. “That’s why you took to them.”
I smiled and nodded. “That and they’re pretty cool kids.”
“I can’t imagine Callum and Mack having any clue how to look after themselves.”
“I can’t imagine them ever having to. If Beth weren’t around, they’d have you.”
Phoebe’s head dropped and she took in a long breath. Twisting her napkin in her hands she nodded.
“They’ll always have me,” she replied.
She sniffed and swiped at her cheek; she was crying. The thought of the boys being in my position had really got to her.
“It won’t happen,” I said, reaching over to touch her cheek. “Beth is a fantastic mother and would never do that.”
She lifted her gaze and gave me a small nod.
“You’re right, she wouldn’t. I just can’t believe your mother put you through that, Grantley.” She sniffed again. “I can’t stop thinking about how scared you must have been.”
“The first couple of times.” I shrugged. “But after that I got used to it. She didn’t do it all the time, but she went missing at least a couple of times a year. And to be honest, when she was at home she was pretty absent. I was more like the parent than she was. At first I made sure she ate, and actually got out of bed each day – I think I thought that she was heartbroken about my dad. But after a few months I realized the way she was and knew that was why he left in the first place. When I was about eight or nine, I started to look forward to her going. My life was easier for those peaceful few days that she was gone.”
“She never remarried?” Phoebe asked.
“God no, she was getting too much child support from my dad. I’ll give him that, he paid for me right up until the day I turned eighteen. Plus, I think most of the men she went after realized pretty quick what a loser she was. She was never one of those women that went for deadbeat men who I’d feel threatened by. Oh no, she always went for the guys with good jobs and money. The couple that she actually brought home were pretty cool guys – one was a dentist. Brian Turnblatt was his name. A balding guy with more than a few extra inches on his waistline. He was nice, always scruffed my hair and asked me how I was doing. She was actually normal while she was with him. She cooked and cleaned and even made sure I showered.”
“So what happened?”
“She stole from him.” I raised my eyebrows and shrugged one shoulder. “It was inevitable. She had a good thing going and fucked it up. She took money from his wallet and the keys to his practice and gave them to a drug dealer ex-boyfriend who she owed money to. He got in and stole a load of prescription pain meds. Sue-Ann had no idea that the practice had a silent alarm that went straight through to the cops. Of course her ex snitched on her, but Brian being the good guy that he was decided not to press charges. We just never saw him again.”
I reached for my glass, which was still half full, but after looking at it, I pushed it away again. We hadn’t even opened the second bottle, what with things getting so serious so quickly.
“I’m sorry, Phoebe,” I finally said. “I wanted us to have a nice dinner, not talk about my shitty childhood.”
She looked up at me and smiled. “I’m just sorry you had a shitty childhood.”
“Don’t be. I survived and I never got hurt. Well, not really.”
“What does that mean, not really?”
I stuck out my left arm and pointed at the scar on it. It was raised and jagged, a silver line against my tanned skin.
“She did that when she was drunk and high one night.”
Phoebe gasped. “No.”
“Yeah. She didn’t mean to, but she still never said sorry.”
“What happened?”
“It happened when I was around eleven. She was dancing around the room with a bottle of vodka in her hand and she tripped and caught it on the side of the coffee table. The bottle smashed and so she was lurching around holding onto the neck of it, and I was worried she was going to cut herself. I didn’t care about her too much, but I didn’t want her cutting her own throat by accident and me having to go into foster care. I made a grab for her arm but she struggled and the jagged glass ripped my skin. It was pretty deep and wouldn’t stop bleeding.”
“Oh my God, what did you do?”
“I bandaged it up and put the broken bottle into my school bag. The next morning when I got to school, I dropped the bottle in the school yard, stuffed the bloody bandage into the bottom of my bag and then made a big show of falling over. I knew the school would take me to the ER and no one would ask as many questions as if I’d gone in with my drunk mom the night before. They stitched me up and I was fine.”
“And no one guessed?” Phoebe asked incredulously.
“Nope. Although my teacher, Miss Kingston, couldn’t understand how from falling over I’d managed to get the bottle into the top of my arm, or for that matter, how the bottle got there. I remember our janitor getting into real shit with the Principal for that. Miss Kingston asked a lot of questions, but I stuck to my story.” I grinned at her. “Even then I was a fucking good actor.”
Phoebe smiled. “You evidently were.”
We fell silent again and I decided that we’d had enough talk of Sue-Ann Miller and her amazing mothering skills.
“So,” I said with a grin. “Now it’s your turn. Tell me all about your sex life.”
Phoebe groaned, screwed up her napkin and threw it at me before starting to laugh.
“You are so rude.”
“Yep, I know,” I sighed. “But you still think I’m amazing.”
She didn’t answer, she just looked down at the table and I knew that I’d never before wanted anyone to think I was amazing as much as I did at that moment.