be no opportunity to run.
86
Los Angeles
Nate Reid woke on Friday morning from a dream that he was at sea. There had been a shipwreck, the old-fashioned kind, and the mast was bearing down upon him, the vessel’s white sails torn like shirts. His body was afloat and he was flat on his back, a bright sun scorching overhead.
As he surfaced, he realised he was moving on water. A water bed, to be precise. Squinting against the sunshine, he rolled over to view his sleeping companion, her arm thrown over his chest, heavy as wood. She was a pop sweetheart in her teens. He couldn’t think of her name but, then, it was early.
His phone beeped. It was a message:
Where are you?
Shit! It wasn’t early at all. He had to get moving.
Nate tugged on his jeans, which were hard to the touch, crusted with some sort of spillage. His T-shirt smelled of smoke.
The girl moaned, pulling up the sheet so two small pink feet popped out the bottom. He moved quietly, grabbing his wallet and keys and heading for the door. Nate was well practised in the art of leaving girls’ beds before they woke up.
On the street he caught sight of a Hides billboard. It was huge, like the size of the biggest posters they pasted on the Tube back home. The four guys were brooding in leather, Nate second left with a guitar in his hand, even though technically he didn’t play. It was done in sepia, which gave them an old-school, dirty kind of look.
It was fitting, really, to stride past the band like that, leave them languishing in his wake. In a few months he planned to pursue solo projects, had already been in talks with Felix about it. Nate was receiving the bulk of the press attention and it wasn’t just down to the music: he was renowned for taking to bed a host of beauties, most of them with a good-Christian-girl image that was ripe for corruption. Nate Reid had found a groove and filled it: he was America’s most love-to-hate rock star. He was the guy that parents had to keep their daughters from. Management wanted to strike while the property was hot.
Nate hailed a cab to his apartment. He’d shower first, collect the stuff he needed then swing by her apartment. He was running late, but so what. He owed her nothing.
In the car he keyed a quick response.
He had known she would call him, because he knew Chloe.
He knew what she was like, the things she worried about, the fears and regrets that kept her up at night.
His ex-girlfriend had rung the previous week, asking to see him. She had sounded jumpy, on edge; more like her old self, the sweet Chloe she’d been last year, the one he much preferred. Wasting no time, she’d asked him to go over, said she needed to talk to him and it was important. Naturally he’d protested for a bit, it was part of the fun, before resolving to take a car over there.
Chloe had answered the door looking pretty in a metallic mini-skirt, black vest and electric-blue pumps, her hair hanging loose.
‘Come in,’ she’d said, not altogether friendly. She’d looked nervously past his shoulder.
‘Hey, babe.’ He had pushed past without invitation. Things were back on his terms now.
While she had fetched him a drink, he’d inspected the living room. It was shambolic, with tiny bottles of nail varnish everywhere, sticks of mascara and lipstick, and a hairdryer coiled up on the floor.
‘What’s going on?’ he’d called, wanting to cut to the chase. ‘I haven’t got all day.’
She came back in and opened his beer can with a schlook.
‘Come to Vegas,’ she said.
He baulked. ‘What, now?’
‘Don’t be a dick. For the premiere.’
‘Are you kidding?’
‘No.’
‘Why would I want to do that?’
‘It’s an opportunity. The press will go crazy when they see us back together.’
This was better than he’d imagined. ‘Is that what you want?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘No, Nate, hard as it may be for you to believe, that is not what I want.’
‘Then what is?’ he’d spluttered, annoyed.
‘This could be a huge deal for both of us, the hugest we might ever have.’ She gave a cynical laugh. ‘It doesn’t matter if we’re in a relationship or not, it doesn’t even matter if we like each other, it’s beside the point. Don’t you see? As long as we turn up together and play the part, that’s job done. We’ll be front-page news.’
Nate frowned. He’d not