Phoebe
As Grantley strode to the door, I quickly ran a hand over my hair and straightened my ugly white overalls. I knew I hadn’t been kissed, but that near kiss had been pretty hot – God, imagine what an actual kiss would be like.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Grantley asked, a cold breeze rushing around me as the door was opened.
“You fucking asked me to be here, you asshole.”
I turned and watched as Marcia stomped through the door. She was wearing an extremely tight white skirt with a fitted black and white stripe jacket on her tiny frame, and carrying my dream handbag; a black Mulberry, Bayswater. Her bleached blonde hair was bigger than she was and as she tottered forward on a pair of towering, black stiletto shoes, which were probably as expensive as her handbag, she slapped Grantley around the back of the head.
“What the…what’s that for?” he asked, rubbing at the spot she’d slapped.
“For making me come to this godforsaken hell hole,” she screeched. “You just wouldn’t take no for an answer, would you?”
“I told you why,” Grantley protested. “Sue-Ann is coming and you’re the only who can put her in her place.”
“I know I have the honor of that ability, but it doesn’t mean I always have to be the fucking one to do it.”
“But you do it so well,” Grantley said with a grin.
I watched their interaction, silently waiting on the side-lines and wondering whether I should simply slink away. Before I had a chance to decide, Marcia turned her head towards me – I say she turned her head but more like her face turned to me, and her hair looked as though it stayed where it was. It was so solid with hairspray, I wondered if she ever dared go near a naked flame.
“And who the hell are you?”
“I…I-.”
“Marcia, this is my friend, Phoebe,” Grantley said on a sigh.
My gaze shot towards him, and while he wasn’t smiling, there were little creases at the corners of his twinkling eyes.
“Why the fuck are you dressed like that?” she cried, waving a finger up and down at me. “Do you clean the drains around here, or are you some sort of fucking sexual freak and I’m going to be reading about this experience in People Magazine in a month?”
“Marcia!” Grantley snapped. “Stop it. Phoebe is an extra on the movie. She’s just finished filming a scene.”
“You’re letting a damn extra spike your pole? Grantley, what the fuck have I told you about messing with the help? You. Don’t. Fucking. Do. It.”
My eyes widened as she pushed past me and strode up towards the other end of the trailer where there was a small bed, piled with cushions. Bending, she pulled off the cushions and then the white cotton duvet.
“I’ll make sure this lot is burned,” she growled. “We don’t want her scraping your damn spunk off here and claiming some little bastard as yours – that’s assuming you’ve used protection and she hasn’t saved the damn condom in her purse.”
“Marcia!” Grantley bellowed. “That’s e-fucking-nough. Don’t you dare talk about Phoebe like that. We are not having sex. We haven’t even kissed.”
Thanks to you, Marcia, and I just know it was going to be amazing.
“Doesn’t mean she isn’t going to try.” Marcia winked at Grantley. “She wouldn’t be the first little whore to try it.”
“Marc-.”
“Hey,” I cried. “I am not a whore. How the hell dare you?”
“Ah jeez, Grantley,” she cried. “This one has fucking balls.”
“We are just friends. What Grantley says is true, but even if we were more than that, you should not be calling me a whore. You don’t even know me. You stroll in here, being rude to Grantley the moment you walk through the door, and call me horrible names without even saying kiss my arse.”
“Oh my God, you are a fucking sex freak,” she groaned, horrified. “You want me to kiss your ass?”
“No,” I snapped. “It’s a turn of phrase. The point I’m making is, you haven’t even spoken to me and have already made your mind up that I’m out to pull a fast one on Grantley.”
“A fast one – what like pull a gun on him?”
She was playing with me, she knew exactly what I was saying.
“I mean it, Marcia. Leave Phoebe the fuck alone.” Grantley pointed a finger at Marcia as she kicked at one of the pillows on the floor. ”She’s my friend. She makes me laugh and I enjoy her company. She has no fucking hidden agenda. She’s so fucking good and kind she wouldn’t have a damn clue where to start.”
Marcia grinned at him and ran a hand over her candy floss hair. “Well fuck me, I do believe you like the little ballsy one.”
“I just said that,” Grantley bellowed, throwing his arms into the air. “She’s my friend.”
“Whatever, lover boy.”
Marcia waved him away and moved over to the kitchen area and ran a finger along the counter top.
“At least it’s clean. Now, when does Teen Mom get in?”
Grantley rolled his eyes. “I’ve told you before she wasn’t a teen mom, no matter what Sue-Ann tells you. She was not twelve-years-old when she had me. You’ve only got to look at her for Christ’s sake. Does she look thirty-eight to you?”
“Like hell she does,” Marcia laughed.
“Exactly. She was twenty-three and had been married to my dad for two years. The only time life became hard for her was when he left, and that was only because it meant she didn’t have a built in babysitter while she went out and got fucked up on vodka and weed with her friends.”
Grantley’s face was contorted with anger and pain as he raged at Marcia. I knew he didn’t rate his mum, but the look on his face made me think it was so very much more than her making bad choices.
“Oh my god, she’s going to be fifty.” Marcia roared with laughter. “I am so going to enjoy that day.”
Grantley shook his head, impatience seeping through his every pore. He turned to me. “I’m sorry, Phoebes.”
The smile he gave me and the fact that he called me ‘Phoebes’ made my heart stutter. It was silly, only a few people called me that, those who’d known me a long time, who were comfortable with me. Grantley felt comfortable with me and it made me happy.
“I’m fine.” I nodded and grinned at him.
“You sure? You know, after what happened.” He took a step towards me, holding out a hand.
I looked down at it and then back up to his face. His eyes were soft and pleading. I reached out and linked the tips of my fingers with his.
“Honestly, I’m good. Declan is an idiot and I know he was just trying to upset me.”
There was a crackling silence between us as we stared at each other, both of us watching the other carefully.
“Okay, okay,” Marcia squawked. “As much as I’m enjoying watching the crappy Hallmark love story unfold, I didn’t come here for that. You said you wanted my help, so here I am to save the day. Yet again.”
Grantley closed his eyes, and his mouth started to move. He was silently counting to ten.
I pulled on his hand. “I’m going to go.”
Grantley’s eyes flashed open. “I’ll give you a lift home.”
“No, no, no, lover boy.” Marcia stepped between us, pushing a flat palm against Grantley’s chest. “You and I need to discuss the Sue-Ann situation and also the reason you fucking bailed on the meeting I set up for you. Little Miss Snogie here can move that little ass of hers back home on her own.”
“Snogie?”
“Frozen.” Marcia and I answered in unison.
“Whatever,” Grantley said. “But if I want to take Phoebe home I will.”
“Honestly Grantley, it really is okay.”
He looked down at his watch and then back at me.
“Sorry Phoebes, but I think you’ve missed the bus back to the studio.”
His tone was self-satisfied and he had a matching smile. It was funny, I’d seen him smile more in the last couple of days than I had the whole last week on set, or in any photograph in the media.
“Listen, lover boy,” Marcia said. “Take her home or don’t take her home, but I let my car service go, so you’re gonna have to take me to my hotel first.”
“Where are you staying?” Grantley asked impatiently.
“Not the damn Lowry, that’s for sure. I do not want you knowing what I get up to off the clock.”
“Marcia, you know and I both know I have no interest in what, or who, you do off the clock.”
Marcia shrugged. “You’re just jealous that I can still pull the guys and yet you have trouble with the broads – present company excluded.”
She smiled at me and then turned back to Grantley.
“I need to shit and shower, so move it.”
Marcia rolled her hand, encouraging Grantley to hurry.
“Marcia! I do not want to know about your bathroom habits.” Grantley pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Okay. I’ll take you first.”
“Honestly Grantley, just drop me at the railway station. It’s fine.”
Grantley shook his head. “Nope. Go get changed, and I’ll get Barney to bring the car to the front. We’ll take Marcia back to her hotel and then you and I will have some dinner in my suite.”
I immediately looked down at the ground, wondering whether anyone else had heard my heart drop to the floor.
Dinner in his suite.
“Grantley-.”
“I insist,” he said, turning to pick up his coat from the back of the chair. “It’s the least I can do after my uncouth agent called you a whore. And,” He looked pointedly at Marcia, “it’s all on her.”
“Fuck you,” Marcia cried, and gave Grantley the bird.