CHAPTER THREE
________
JAMES
The fourth bottle of champagne seemed too far away, further than an arm’s length, and the thought of getting up to refill my glass killed me. But it was worse to have an empty glass and nothing close to quench my thirst.
The room swayed as I stood. Shit!
Trying to stop the world from toppling over, I reached the table with baby steps, picked the bottle up, and tried my hardest to aim the golden liquid at the inside of the glass. It was harder than I thought, and not wanting to spill any more drink, I threw the glass aside and drank straight from the bottle. No use in wasting perfectly good champagne.
After a hearty swig, I sat back down before I lost my balance. The sofa in this hotel room wasn’t very soft. It was more like the ones in the hospital’s waiting room.
“Hey!” a female voice said.
I looked in the direction of the voice and took another swig from the bottle in my hand. It was time to find something stronger. The champagne already tasted like water.
“Hey,” she said again, trying to get my attention.
This time her dress was off and she wore nothing but her black underwear and garter belt.
“Hey,” I answered.
I couldn’t remember if I’d met her at the club or if she was one of the countless girls that showed up in my room every night. Whatever the case, my eyes still lingered over her body. She must have taken this as an invitation, because her next move was to take her bra off.
Yes, it was time to find something stronger to drink. Before I could even muster the concentration to stand up and get to the minibar, she pushed me back against the couch.
Her movements were sensual, predatory. Don’t get me wrong; I loved it when women took charge, even when they were slightly rough. I knew what she wanted, though, and it wasn’t me. She wanted money and the lifestyle, maybe even an acting career. It didn’t worry me, not in the slightest. I even took advantage of it. Just by being seen with me, she would probably get a call in the morning, either from a reporter or an agent. And I got exactly what I wanted—a bit of fun.
She was pretty. I wasn’t sure if her beauty was natural or crafted, but you could see she worked out. There was nothing soft about her.
My phone vibrated as she straddled me, her round plastic bosom rubbing against my shirt. “James, where are you?” Michael, my manager, asked when I answered the phone. His gravelly smoker’s voice sounded bored.
It took me a couple of seconds to answer. I knew I was in my room, but the alcohol and this chick were making everything confusing.
“In my room,” I answered.
“Good. Listen, Helen’s booked a flight for you first thing in the morning to London. You have an interview there.”
“Awesome.” It was all I could say; the morning seemed like ages away. “Who’s Helen?”
“Your new assistant. Please take care of this one.”
“What happened to Alice?”
I could feel myself smile as I remembered Alice’s cheeks turning red every time I complimented her. She was sweet and hard to get.
“Her name was Esther and she quit after you slept with her. This is your fifth assistant this year. Please don’t fuck it up.”
Really? Four? What month was it?
“Anyway,” Michael continued, “you better get some sleep. Ralph’s picking you up first thing in the morning.”
By this time, the unknown girl was nibbling my earlobe and swaying her hips against my crotch.
“Will do. Once we’ve had a little bit of fun,” I slurred.
The girl giggled against my neck.
“Who’s there with you?”
“Oh, you know…,” I started.
I found it hard to concentrate. Between the fogginess of the booze and the rush of blood to my southern regions, it was almost impossible to put thoughts together.
“Actually, I don’t know,” I eventually said.
“Well, you’d better ask her. Don’t you think?” His voice grew louder, impatient.
I looked down at her, her bleached blonde hair shimmering against the darkness of my shirt. I didn’t even know where she’d come from.
“What’s your name, gorgeous?” I asked.
Her eyes snapped up, and her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“You’re kidding, right?” she asked.
I shook my head in denial. An amused drunken smile appeared on my lips as I clutched the phone tight against my ear.
“Bullshit!” she shouted, getting off my lap.
“Oh, come on, don’t be like that. Stay for a bit longer.”
“You wish!” she spat.
Really? Would it not be the other way around? I couldn’t help but notice how her breasts didn’t move as she sprinted across the room, gathering her things. She came back to collect the shoe that lay beside me.
“You’ve had a boob job,” I blurted, thinking out loud. My hand instantly moved towards one, wanting to cup it to make sure my facts were right.
Definitely crafted beauty, and kudos to her surgeon.
She slapped my hand away, her eyes seething with anger.
“Asshole!” she shouted as she left the room, still naked.
“It looks like I’ll be going to sleep early then. Still not sure why she got so offended, I only asked a question.”
I stood up, almost losing my balance and dropping my phone.
Michael chuckled. “I’m not sure, James. You seem to have a way with words.”
Without saying goodnight, I stumbled clumsily to the bed and fell into a deep sleep, still wearing the same suit I’d had on the night before.
________
A splash of frosty water hit my face like a ton of bricks, waking me up in a sudden and alarming way.
I sat up and looked around, concentrating on the figure standing in front of me. A few seconds later, I realised it was Ralph.
“What the fuck was that?” I asked.
“Morning, sunshine,” he said, towering over me with a snide smile on his lips.
“Do you need to wake me up like that? That’s evil, man,” I grumped, rubbing my face, trying to wake myself up.
“I suppose at night-time you’ll want me to tuck you in and kiss you goodnight. Stop being a girl. Get up and shower. You smell like death.”
“I feel like death too. What time is it?”
I stood up and felt the world tilt to one side. A sudden wave of sickness made me weak.
I was glad Ralph was no longer looking in my direction.
“Five. Did Michael not tell you that I was coming in?” he asked, his eyes glued to the TV screen.
“I have a vague recollection of him mentioning something like that a couple of hours ago,” I replied.
I tried once again. This time the dizziness dissipated, and I made my way to the bathroom as slowly as possible so I wouldn’t throw up everywhere.
My body relaxed as the hot water dissolved the knots in my back muscles, but the pounding in my head persisted, hammering every neuron into submission. Just by looking at my reflection in the steamed-up mirror, I could see the results of my lifestyle. My cheekbones protruded against my ghostly grey skin. My eyes never shone, and my lips were cracked with dehydration. The worst thing about this morning, and any other morning for that matter, was damage control. Listening or reading about my adventures or scandals from the night before and seeing my picture plastered all over social media usually required some sort of response from my team. As far as I was concerned, the night before had been fairly uneventful.
Ralph sat on the unmade bed, still channel hopping on the big flat screen. His aviator sunglasses lit up with the reflection of the TV.
“How bad is it?” I asked, towelling my hair dry, cringing at the thought of what he might find.
“Nothing to worry about. I think Michael already dealt with it,” Ralph replied, as he turned the TV off and set the remote control down. After lifting his specs, he asked, “Feeling better, sugar?”
There’s one thing to know about Ralph Mathews. He’s my only mate, and I wasn’t trying to sound like a girl, but it was depressing to think that the only person around that you could trust was paid by you. I knew he would trade his life for me, but it still made me wonder if it was because of me as a person or if it was part of his job description.
I didn’t bother to answer his question. The truth was that I wasn’t. I only felt slightly more human than before. Instead, I just nodded.
He tutted. “God, you still look like shit.”
My hand still held the damp towel. Without hesitation, I dropped it on the bed and picked up a bottle of water. Once I downed the whole thing, I wiped my mouth.
“Thanks, man, you know how to make me feel better,” I replied.
“Don’t worry. We’ll get you one of those miraculous smoothies that will make you feel instantly better,” Ralph declared.
“I think I need a Bloody Mary, not a smoothie,” I retorted.
Ralph was one of those who avoided fat and anything unhealthy. For him, a gourmet meal was steamed vegetables, boiled potatoes, and chicken breast. No sauce, no gravy. Nothing to give it moisture or taste. Then again, he’s never suffered from a cold, and he was ten years older than me.