Page 62 of One Hollywood Sunset

Nicholas had only ever seen the man in photographs and there was nothing striking about his appearance. He was of average height, approximately five foot ten. He had receding, fair hair that was greying at the temples and he was slimly built. He was wearing a dark-blue, designer suit, his shirt open at the neck, and no tie.

Eric paused momentarily and then walked swiftly towards his desk and sat down opposite Nicholas.

Eric placed his hands on the desk and then suddenly stood up again and outstretched his hand in Nicholas’ direction.

‘I don’t believe we’ve ever met.’

‘No, I don’t believe we have. I would’ve remembered,’ Nicholas responded, unmoving.

Eric smiled and sat back down in his chair.

‘So, to what do I owe the pleasure?’ Eric opened a drawer of his desk and took out a box of cigars.

‘I would have thought that was obvious.’

‘Not to me. Would you like one?’ He offered the cigars across the table.

‘No thank you. I don’t.’

‘Oh, that’s right. You had cancer, didn’t you? How stupid of me! Someone who’s had cancer wouldn’t want to be taking any unnecessary risks, would they?’ Eric lit his cigar and drew on it, producing a fog of smoke.

‘Look, Eric, we both know why I’m here…’ Nicholas started.

‘Thank you. I’d be delighted,’ the older man interrupted.

‘What?’

‘Your marriage to my daughter. I would be delighted to come. I take it you have brought an invitation.’

Nicholas let out a sigh.

‘That isn’t why you’re here? Well then, I’m at a loss as to why you are here.’

‘You know why. Ever since the paper printed that article about Freya telling someone you were dead, everything’s started to go to shit for her again. Just like it did the last time you involved yourself in her life,’ Nicholas snapped.

‘I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘Come on. Don’t play the innocent with me. I’m an actor, remember? I can smell an act and you don’t fool me. You can’t bear it that everyone’s questioning you again. Snooping into your world, wanting to know why Freya doesn’t want to have you anywhere near her. Wondering again if the other article you bullied her into changing was actually true.’

‘I’ll tell you something, shall I? I don’t much care for people getting the police around my property in the early hours of the morning, waking me up and asking pointless questions. I don’t much care for people who bandy my name around all over the place and spout malicious lies about me. I do not care for people who show me no respect.’ Eric leaned forward in his chair, his arms on the desk.

‘And I don’t much care for people who beat up my driver, break into my home and send my fiancée obscene letters.’

Eric smiled and sat back in his chair.

‘Do you know, Nick? May I call you Nick? Perhaps I should, seeing as how we’re almost family. Do you know I was actually surprised Jane managed to keep her anonymity for so long. At the end of the day though, it’s always the same old story with her. She just can’t keep her mouth shut.’

‘Her name isn’t Jane anymore. She hasn’t been Jane for a long time. Her name is Freya and the reason Freya can’t keep her mouth shut, as you so eloquently put it, is because she can’t forget what you put her through.’

‘Have you ever considered, Nick, that maybe Jane’s been embellishing things? I mean, she does have a habit of doing that, doesn’t she? Perhaps she’s still feeling a little aggrieved I sent her to prison. I mean, that might just give someone an axe to grind, don’t you think?’

‘What are you trying to say? That you didn’t beat Freya quite as hard as she tells people you did? That she hid in her wardrobe less times than she claims? There has to be truth at the beginning for it to be embellished.’

‘Your fiancée needs to learn some self restraint, particularly when the press is around. I was sure that’d be something you’d have taught her by now. I’ve seen you work the journalists, avoid the tricky questions, change the direction of conversation. I have no doubt you know when to make no comment.’

‘If you knew Freya at all then you’d know she’s her own person and no one tells her what to do, least of all me.’

‘Well, well, what is this? You’re admitting you’re not the master of your own household? I’m surprised at you, Nick.’ He took a long, slow drag of his cigar.

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