Champagne Kisses (8 page)

Overawed, we sat speechless, mouths open, as if ready to catch flies. Staring at these elegant stucco Victorian houses, with their wide tree-lined paths, was like looking at a movie set. Coming into her own, Anna piped up with some of the worthless knowledge she’d absorbed from the gossip mags.

‘Doesn’t Kate Moss have a pad here too? The paparazzi are always camped outside her place.’

‘Yes, very good,’ praised Jeff. ‘There’s also a great vegetarian restaurant here called Manna, and I’ve heard Moby goes there a lot.’

Trying to be nonchalant Maddie asked, ‘Anyone else?’

‘Wow, you girls are tough to please. Erm, Helena
Bonham
Carter and Tim Burton live around here somewhere, and as far as I know they filmed parts of
The War of the Worlds
here. So I can only presume Tom Cruise would have stayed in the area.’

‘OK, we’ll give you five out of ten for your tour guide skills,’ I joked, ‘but I think we need to see some of these stars for ourselves.’

Just then our cheeky Charlie livened up again and said, ‘Boys and girls, here we are. This is Queens.’ Hopping out, he opened the door for us and offered us each a hand out.

‘If you see Katie Moss, tell her to stop calling me,’ he teased. ‘I’ve had to change my number three times already.’

Feeling like we were attending a film première, we stood outside the pub, fluffing our hair and plumping up our cleavage as we waited for the boys to follow us. But they didn’t.

Sticking my head back in the car door, I asked, ‘Are you all right?’

But they looked far too comfortable.

Passing me a handful of sterling, Parker shooed me back out, directing me to ‘Go buy the girls drinks. We’ll follow you in.’

Happy to oblige I grabbed the money and ran by the girls laughing, ‘The last one to the bar gets the ugly mate.’

‘Tits out, tummy in.’ Anna winked, and with a massive intake of breath she strode through the heavy door.

It hardly looked like a celebrity hangout, just an average English pub, but, with a quick thought to St Jude, I morphed into a cool diva and prepared myself for an entrance.

Several bottles of Coors Light later and there was no sign of Jude Law, Ewan McGregor, Jonny Lee Miller or even one of Sadie Frost’s young boyfriends. And the mood started to wane just a little.

‘You know it’s Valentine’s Day in ten days,’ mused Anna.

‘What’s your point?’ snapped a disgruntled Maddie.

‘Yeah well, you were dateless last year as well Maddie, weren’t you?’ sniggered Anna in a sarcastic tone that said, don’t get stroppy with me.

Just as I was about to butt in and cool the frayed tempers, I noticed a very sexy guy walk towards the bar. He’d been sitting in front of us since we’d come in, but with his back turned the whole time.

Although I didn’t recognize him, he had a certain X-factor aura about him. He was gorgeous, a total hottie in a kind of unshaven John Cusack sort of way. Actually, he was better looking than John Cusack, he was a rugged Tom Ford, wearing old jeans, a frayed style T-shirt and an old grey hoodie top. And now he was standing right beside me.

As the girls continued to make bitchy remarks to each other, I used the classic, ‘Oh, sorry am I in your way?’ line as I pulled at my stool a little.

‘Gosh, no,’ said my perfect stranger, waving the
remark
away. ‘No, you’re fine,’ he smiled. He had a mild New York accent.

‘Wow, you’re a long way from home,’ I blurted, before taking the time to plan my next move.

‘For sure,’ he cooed, smirking down at me as he rubbed his hand over his designer stubble. ‘I like London, but I much prefer Ireland.’

‘You’re very perceptive,’ I flirted back, thrilled by his ability to recognize an Irish accent. ‘Next you’ll be telling me you’re a quarter Irish.’

‘Actually I am.’ He laughed, barely missing a beat.

‘Oh, for shurrrr!’ I mocked, as I kicked Maddie in the leg so she’d see my new pal.

‘You may be a non-believer but I’m actually half Irish. My mother was from Cavan,’ the handsome stranger insisted.

With that a boisterous Maddie swung around on her stool and announced, ‘Well, hello tasty. Who are you?’

‘Oh, em, hello yourself, I’m Michael,’ gushed my handsome stranger. ‘Can I buy you girls a drink?’

‘Well, come take a big bite outta me!’ shrieked Maddie, as I hung my head in my hands with shame. What can of worms had I opened here?

Choosing to ignore my embarrassment, she raved on, ‘Oh,
yes
, Michael, we’d love a drink, wouldn’t we, Eva? And I’m Maddie, and Michael, this here is Anna. And for the record we’re all single.’

Truly mortified, I just shrugged at Michael and expressed my feelings towards Maddie with my eyes.

‘Don’t mind her,’ said Maddie, pulling at his sleeve. ‘She’s just gone quiet ’cause you’re her type. You’ve got that arty thing going on. You’re definitely her type.’

‘Thanks for that, Maddie,’ I was trying desperately hard to seem pissed off. Of course, I wasn’t. I was thrilled. Maddie had done all the groundwork for me. All I had to do now was try and look sweet; well, sweet in a sexy way, and hope that he would fall for it.

Thirty minutes later, I had found out Michael was a fashion photographer who was currently trying to break into making videos and commercials. He had worked with all the big names from Gisele to Naomi Campbell, and apparently she was ‘not as temperamental as the media makes her out to be’. Although he had dated many models, and had a small crush on an Irish model, Catriona Balfe, who also lived and worked on the ‘Island’ (Manhattan, of course), he was currently single – and ‘actively looking for a good woman to love’.

As he stared deep into my eyes, as if trying to read my mind or capture my soul, all I could do was gaze back at him.

Was this guy for real? I wasn’t a supermodel, so why the hell was he talking to me? Maybe all the drink I had had made me more confident, and so more appealing. Yanks loved confidence, especially New Yorkers, but still … I just couldn’t understand. Judging by his body language he was true. Leaning into me, his
smell
of Davidoff Clearwater was filling up my senses, but it was his whole persona that was starting to overpower me.

By now Maddie and Anna had muscled over to his mates’ table and seemed happy enough. Occasionally I’d hear a flirtatious yelp or scream from Maddie, so I knew she was coping on her own.

After suppressing the need to pee for about twenty minutes, terrified I’d spoil the moment, I excused myself from my American dream.

‘I’ll be right here,’ he said, in a smouldering and smooth tone.

Unfortunately I then went and ruined the moment slightly by jumping off my seat and chirping, ‘O-K’, as if I wasn’t bothered.

After a lengthy toilet break and a quick text to Lisa: ‘The Princess: Miss U. GR8 nite. Wish U were ere’, I gathered my composure and strutted back outside – and found Parker draped all over Michael.

‘I’ve just been acquainted with your new friend, Eva,’ gushed Parker. ‘Isn’t he just the dogs?’

Unfazed by a strapping gay man swinging from his shoulder, Michael explained, ‘I hear you’re going to some big party tonight. It sounds great.’

‘Does it?’ I asked, totally clueless.

‘Yes, Miss Eva,’ interrupted Parker. ‘It’s going to be totally fabulous –
if
we ever get there. We’re already past fashionably late, so get your skates on.’

Panicked, I just stood there looking gormless. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted my chat to Michael
to
go on for ever. Damn Parker for coming in and ruining my moment. Backing away, Michael handed me my jacket and my fake Prada handbag – it looked money even though it wasn’t – and threw me a winning smile.

‘Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you around.’ His velvety words melted out of his mouth like chocolate.

‘Yeah,’ I replied, praying for him to ask for my phone number. But he didn’t. He just smiled back at me. Then Parker grabbed my hand, and pretending to use me as a puppet he put on his camp girlie voice and flapped my arm around saying, ‘Right then, bye-bye Mr America, lovely to meet you. Byeeee.’

As he pushed me towards the door, Maddie and Anna air-kissed his friends goodbye and then blocked my view of Michael.

‘Fuck sake, Parker,’ I barked, ‘could you not have given me an extra minute? I thought I was getting somewhere with him.’

‘Oh, come on Miss Valentine, he’s from New York. You’ll never see him again. What’s the point?’

Devastated I got back in the people carrier. I didn’t want to leave so I had to be pushed.

A little emotional from the amount of alcohol in my system, I sat in a mood, and refused to make eye contact with the group. As Charlie drove off, I just cursed them all for crushing my happy-ever-after fantasy.

I felt utterly cheated. He could have been my Mr Right. He was definitely a very hot Mr Maybe.

* * *

Acting like a spoilt brat I moaned for what seemed like hours.

Eventually we arrived at the bash that Jeff had flown us over for. It was a very stately Victorian home with massive spotlights circling outside the front and an illumination of some model on the wall with the words ‘To The Manor Born’ written across her naked body.

Unimpressed by the pomp, I huffed past the model waiters offering champagne cocktails, and then returned to them to demand where the toilets were.

Furious, I had to queue behind women who were laughing about how hilarious Gary Lineker was and what a wonderful wealth of knowledge Jeremy Clarkson had. I had to keep my head down and bite my lip so to stop myself crying.

When I returned to the group I then had to endure Maddie rattling on about how beautiful Nicole Appleton was in person. I know I should have shown more of an interest as she gushed, ‘She’s so down-to-earth. Look, I got a picture with her on my phone.’

But I didn’t care about meeting any stars. I still didn’t even know why they were all here, other than that Jeff’s family’s company was sponsoring the event. Tired and emotional, and still wearing the same clothes from that morning, I told Parker I needed a minute to myself. Wandering out to a garden area, I found a space to sit on my own.

It was ten minutes before I realized he wasn’t
following
me out to cheer me up. I was gutted. Staring at my phone to make it look as if I was doing something, I was at pains to think who I could text or call.

I had texted Lisa earlier but had heard nothing back. So I decided Maddie my supposed best friend should come out and comfort me.

Lacking the energy to submerge myself in the madding crowd again, I texted ‘Maddie: I’m out in the garden. Come out with a drink pls.’

Straight away she texted me back: ‘2mins.’

Somewhat relieved, I relaxed into my concrete chair, and people-watched the smokers.

Although a heavy dew had started to cling to everything, semi-clothed glamorous women frolicked around, puffing bellyfuls of smoke to the sky like old movie stars, while a group of grumpy-looking men pretended not to notice them.

Half choked by their unforgiving starched collars and vast footballer’s ties, these men looked so absorbed in their own conversation that if the Marlboro Man’s ghost had walked up and asked them for a light they’d have totally ignored him.

Another couple huddled in a corner looked very devious indeed. Both in their forties, they definitely looked like they were having an affair; but one that was coming to an end. Uneasy in each other’s company, they seemed on constant lookout, as the woman sobbed into her champagne cocktail, and he remained sullen.

Occasionally she’d pound his chest and shout the word ‘Bastard’, which only made him look more determined and fierce.

Just as the damp had started to numb my bum, my phone, gripped between my hands like a lifeline, beeped ‘1 New Message.’

Sure it was Maddie telling me it was too cold outside, and that I was to stop being stupid and get back in and join the group, I got a shock to see the words ‘TURN AROUND’ from an unrecognizable +191 number. Thinking what the fu—? I quickly looked behind me to find my New Yorker standing beside a rose bush brandishing a bottle of Laurent Perrier rosé and two glasses.

‘Pinky said it was your favourite.’ Michael smiled, making my heart skip a beat.

‘For the record his name is Parker,’ I corrected, ‘but what are you doing here?’

‘Hey, I met the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen tonight, and then she ran off on me. What’s with that?’ His eyes smiled as he spoke.

Not sure if I was daydreaming again, I pinched my leg to make sure. ‘Am I imagining things?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, I’m nearly sure we left you in Queens. How did you find me?’

Ignoring my question, he positioned himself beside me on the icy concrete bench, and started to pour the champagne like a pro.

‘You know, that Pinky fella really is a good judge of
character,’
mused Michael. ‘He invited me when you were in the cloakroom. He said it would be
da craic
and not to tell you.’

‘What did he say to you? Did he pressurize you into coming here? Oh, God I’m so embarrassed. I’m so sorry. He can be a bit forceful sometimes.’ My mind began to run away with itself.

‘Whoah! Slow down there, tiger, everything is just rosé in the garden. Don’t you think?’ A broad smile rippled across his face as he placed the champagne flute in my hand and clinked his glass against mine.

‘I propose a toast,’ declared Michael, raising his glass to the stars: ‘here’s to new beginnings and great friendships.’

‘Shock entrances, more like.’ My confidence had started to return.

‘I’ve always prided myself on my entrances. Much better than my exits, I feel,’ he said and then knocked back the champers.

‘Well let’s hope you never make one,’ I said, tilting my glass towards him. And in two magical mouthfuls, I too made my champagne disappear.

Lifting the glass from my hand, he placed the two empty glasses at our feet, and then asked me, ‘Can I kiss you?’

Unable to speak, I gave him my best sexy eyes and tilted my head towards his.

Then we kissed, the perfect kiss. It wasn’t like kissing someone for the first time. It was familiar and
right.
Wow! If he kept kissing me like this I could love this guy for ever.