Strangers (21 page)

Kate’s swollen, suffering heart lay squashed under her ribs.

“Still, the likes of us would never stand a chance.
They keep to their own.
Nice to dream though.”

Kate knew gossip and rumor sold more papers than the truth.
But the photograph hurt.
Most likely the picture meant nothing.
It still hurt.

At least she knew he hadn’t killed himself.

* * * * *

Kate arrived home, exhausted by her attempts to suppress thoughts about Charlie.
She saw him everywhere she looked, in everything she touched.
His face when she teased him.
His face when he came.
His lovely smile.
Surges of pain spread through her body like a rampaging grass fire.
She checked her mobile, but he hadn’t called, left a voice mail or texted.
She switched it off again.
Kate could have called him, but she hung on to the last vestiges of her pride, left the landline disconnected and clicked off her buzzer.
Now, she didn’t want to speak to him.
She’d stamp out the flames while she still could.

A slice of cheese on toast in her hand, she went to sit on her balcony.
Even though she’d accepted her future could never be what she wanted, her dreams made life bearable, a way of escaping a grim reality.
When she’d been taken into care, Kate made the mistake of revealing her dreams to others, not realizing it gave them ammunition to tease and hurt her.
She learned to keep things to herself and live in her own world.

It hadn’t been so long ago that she started to believe what she thought would be a miserable future could be changed.
Kate accepted money she’d previously refused so she could buy a place of her own.
She’d resisted for a long time but realized she was punishing herself as well.
What was the point of that?

With her own place and the nearest to friends she’d ever found with Rachel, Lucy and Dan, plus a regular job, even in a little café, life had looked brighter.
But she’d allowed Richard to hurt her and now Charlie had swum into her life.
One photo of him dancing with a beautiful woman had shown Kate she was still the same damaged, insecure, pathetic individual.
A snapshot of a moment in time didn’t have to mean anything.

But it did.

Kate was losing her hold on a world with Charlie because it was a creation of smoke, a hollow illusion.
No one would ever truly love her.

* * * * *

Charlie felt control of his life slipping through his fingers and he didn’t like it.
He’d spent an entire day sitting in a sterile hotel room being interviewed by a succession of journalists from all over the world.
He’d answered the same questions over and over.
No, he was not going out with Jody Morton.
No, he and Jody Morton were not having a relationship.
No, Jody was not living with him.
No, he’d never met her ex-fiancé.

No one believed him.
The more he denied it, the smugger their smiles.
But Charlie smiled too and played the charming, considerate and thoughtful guy Ethan had told him to be.
When the last fawning woman journalist and her limpet gay photographer had left, Charlie slumped on the couch and farted.

“Glad you held that in,” Ethan said.

“She’d have told me it was the sweetest thing she’d ever smelt.
Bloody hell, I thought she was about to offer to have sex with me then and there, with you and the photographer in the room.”

Ethan laughed.
“And her piece on you will be the cruelest.”

“I know, but I did
not
want to take her out to dinner.”

“You couldn’t anyway, I’ve arranged for you to escort Natalie Glass tonight.
I’ve booked a table at Nobu.”

Charlie groaned.
“No, I’m busy.”

“No, you’re not, Charlie.
Natalie’s been told she’s got the female lead in
The Green
.
You two are going to be working together.
I want your pictures in the papers.”

“Not tonight, Ethan, please.
I want to see Kate.”

“I wouldn’t worry about your little waitress.
I think she’ll have realized by now you’re out of her league.”

Charlie sat up.
“What do you mean?”

Ethan threw him the paper.

When Charlie saw the photograph on page five, he swore.
He and Jody Morton had their arms around each other and Charlie was laughing.
He couldn’t remember why.
It wouldn’t have been at anything she said.
She could bore for an oil company.
She’d done nothing but talk about people she knew in Hollywood and her enormous house.
They’d only danced, but it didn’t look as simple as that.
The article with the photo didn’t imply it was as simple as that either.
No wonder he’d been fending off questions all day.
He hadn’t wanted to go to the damn event, but Ethan had insisted and now he’d managed to get back on the right side of Ethan, he wanted to stay there.

Charlie knew he could have asked Kate to go to the charity event with him.
Maybe he should have, but he hadn’t because she was his and he didn’t want to share her.
He wondered if she’d seen the photo.
His arms might have been around Jody, but Kate was in his heart.
Did she know that?

He wanted to call her but he couldn’t find his mobile.

“Table’s booked for eight.
A car will pick you up and then go for Natalie,” Ethan said.

“Must I?”

“You need each other.”

“I’d made plans.”

Ethan’s mouth tightened.
“Cancel them.
You owe me, Charlie.
You’re on a knife’s edge here.
Your life’s not yours.
It’s half mine and half everyone else’s.
The price of celebrity.”

Charlie put his thumbnail between his teeth and then wrenched his finger out of his mouth.
Kate
, he thought and smiled.

Chapter Thirteen

On the way to work the next morning, Kate checked her mailbox.
A gas bill and a stiff square card—an invitation from Rachel to the preview at Bellingham Gallery.
On the other side of the invite, Rachel had written

Free booze and exquisite nibbles. Bring Hippo! xx Rachel

Dan waited for Kate on the street.

“Where is Rachel getting the exquisite nibbles?” Kate asked, as they set off through the park.

“She’s making them.”

Kate remembered the last preview.
Given a very limited budget by her father, Rachel used cheap caterers who considered slimy mushroom vol-au-vents and overcooked sausages on sticks the height of sophistication.
Rachel spent the whole evening apologizing for the food.

“I’m helping,” Dan said with a grin.

“Now until you told me that, I thought it would be fine.
Why don’t you ask Tony to give you a hand?”

“That’s a good idea.
Do you think he’d have time?”

“If he gets an invite, he’ll make time.”

Kate dodged out of the way as a child on a bike sped toward her.
Despite the early hour, there were several mothers sitting in the playground, watching their offspring torment each other.

“How are you and Rachel doing?” Kate asked.

“Great,” Dan said.
“I’m amazed how much we have in common.
She likes vampire movies.
We watched my favorite last night.
Underworld Evolution
.”

That didn’t sound like Rachel.
“Are you sure she likes that sort of film?”

Dan’s face fell.
“You mean she might have just said she does?”

Kate had to chew the inside of her cheek so she didn’t laugh.
“Did she cower on the couch and hide her face in your shoulder?”

“Yes, but I did that as well.”

Kate let the laugh out.
“But I guess that wasn’t because you were scared.
You know the test.
Does she know the five sure ways to kill a vampire?”

“Oh shit.” Dan groaned.

“Don’t worry.
It shows how much she likes being with you.
Take home a romantic comedy tonight.
And flowers.
Give her little surprises like that and she’ll think you’re wonderful.”

“Is that how Hippo won your heart?”

“No, he just splashed his way in.”

As Kate and Dan walked through the door, Mel handed her an envelope.

“What’s this?” Kate asked.
“It’s not my birthday.”

“Written warning for unpunctuality.”

“Are you clairvoyant or something?” Kate looked at the clock.
The hand tiptoed past the hour.

“That’s for the other day.
You’ll get another one for this morning.
Three and you’re out.”

“Mel, don’t be so bloody mean.
Kate waited for me today.
It’s my fault she’s late, though to call this late is stretching it.”

“You come in as a favor.
It’s her job.
She’s paid to be here on time.
She shouldn’t have waited for you if you were going to make her late.”

Dan rolled his eyes at Kate.
She knew there was nothing he could do.
If Mel wanted her out, then she’d be out.
Kate wondered how much more could fall apart.

She found out at four that afternoon when Charlie walked in.

Kate fled to the kitchen.

A moment later, Lois rushed through, her hands flapping in excitement like a schizoid chicken.
“Oh my God.
It’s Charlie Storm.
Sitting at one of my tables.
I can’t believe it.
Do you think he’d mind if I took a picture of him with my mobile?”

Mel shot to the porthole window in the kitchen door and turned back to Lois, her eyes wide with delight.
Kate felt sick.

“Charlie Storm in my café!
Oh God.
Lois, get out there and serve him.”

As Lois pushed open the swing door, Mel started punching numbers on her phone.
Kate picked up an order from a tight-lipped Tony and took it through.
She kept her eyes away from Charlie, but listened.

“Good afternoon,” Lois said, biting the nails of one hand and offering a menu with the other.
“Our specials today are spinach and nutmeg—”

“Sorry,” Charlie said.
“Forgive me, but I’d like Kate to take my order.”

“But you’re sitting at one of my tables.”

“Is that one of Kate’s?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the direction he was pointing and sighed.

“Yes.”

Just for once, Kate wished she had customers at every one of her tables.

“You’re a sweetheart,” Charlie said.

Kate glanced round to see him beaming at Lois.
She turned her back and began to clear a table.
Dan sidled over.

“Do you want me to serve him?” he whispered.

“Please.”

A moment later, she heard Charlie ask for her again.
Dan walked past Kate and shrugged.

“Kate, could I have a word please?” Mel called from the kitchen door.
The sweet tone told Kate she was in trouble.

Kate carried through a tray of dirty plates.
Mel stood, hands on her ample hips, glaring at her.

“Why are you ignoring him?” Mel snapped.
“Bloody well serve him.
He’s asked for you.
He—” Mel stopped.
“Why?
How does he know you?”

Kate rushed out with a menu and dropped it on Charlie’s table.

“Something smells good.
What are the specials?” he asked.

Kate bent her head to his ear, but spoke quite clearly.
“The boiled testicles served with warmed goat’s blood are pretty tasty.
Perhaps you’d like heart wrapped in peppered sheep gut?
Or there’s sliced cock in brandy sauce.
Oh no, chef’s out of the last one and looking for volunteers.”

The old man at the next table dropped his knife on the floor with a clatter.

“Is the goat’s blood fresh?” Charlie boomed.

Everything went quiet.

“Clotting nicely,” Kate retorted.

“Sounds good, I’ll have the balls then, with a toasted teacake and coffee.” He lowered his voice.
“What have I done?”

“I’ll be right back with your order, sir.”

Charlie watched her walk away and his heart lurched at the sight of that little black skirt and white apron and her shirt hanging out at the back.
He wanted to tuck it in and run his hands over her bottom.
Her hair needed combing, her collar straightening, her lips kissing.
There was no brittle artificiality in the way she moved and dressed.
She wasn’t trying to lure him.
She was just Kate.
And he’d pissed her off.
He sighed.

By the time Kate came out of the kitchen, the café was full, mostly with women brandishing mobiles, taking his picture.
Charlie had just had his hand shaken by a woman called Mel who told him she owned the café and how delighted she was he’d come in.

Kate banged the plate down so hard in front of him that both he and the teacake jumped.

“Any jam?” Charlie asked.

Kate tossed a little plastic container of raspberry jam onto his lap, evoking a communal intake of breath from the other customers.

“Do you have strawberry?”

Charlie caught it in midair and there was a round of applause.

“Kate,” Mel called.
“Come.
Here.
Now.”

Kate stomped across.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Mel demanded.

“Nothing, I—”

The whole café went silent again.
Kate froze and Charlie wondered what she was going to do.
His gaze moved to her mouth and got stuck.
Even pissed off, she filled him with desire.
He wanted to shove her up against a wall with the entire length of his body and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe, only he suspected she’d knee him in the balls.
Charlie expected her to walk out, but she didn’t.
She strode over, grabbed the collar of his shirt in both fists and pressed her lips against his.
She kissed him so hard, it hurt.
Then she walked out.

Charlie smiled.
She still wanted him.

All at once, he was mobbed by a crowd of women intent on copying Kate.
The café owner elbowed them out of the way to get to his side.

“I’m so sorry.
I’ll sack her.
I don’t know what she was thinking,” she said with a gasp.

Charlie could see she was thinking the same thing.
She licked her lips.

“Don’t sack her.”

By the time he’d extricated himself from the mass of bodies and made it outside, Charlie felt fortunate all four limbs were still attached.
He’d written his signature thirty-two times, seven times on body parts, and kissed the cheeks of thirty-six women, one man and a dog.
Charlie wiped his lips again.
The dog had been an accident—cradled in a woman’s arms and dressed in a little pink outfit, with matching bonnet, he’d thought it was a baby and then it had been too late to go into reverse.