Page 48 of Love Me Till Wednesday

‘Why didn’t you say?’

‘I thought you’d be upset that he was being an arsehole.’

‘Too bloody right I would. It’s one thing abandoning me when he was young, but …’ Lisa was too livid to finish the sentence.

‘What’s the point?’ Jim said. ‘You getting furious with him won’t solve anything. He’s got his wonderful life in America.He’s never been interested enough to ask after me in all my 32 years.’

‘Because we can’t sit on that sofa with your mother in this mood,’ Pete said.

No, they couldn’t. Lisa was in complete agreement with that statement. ‘I’m going to have it out with him before we get to that point. It’s one thing treating me like shit, but I won’t have him do that to our son. When did she say he was arriving?’

‘Any minute now,’ Tez said.

Right on cue, Lisa heard voices and footsteps out in the corridor.

‘Sounds as if he’s got a whole entourage,’ Tez said.

She shouldn’t be surprised. He’d have a publicist and a security guy, at least.

‘How are you going to get him alone?’ Pete asked.

Lisa had a bright idea. ‘He’ll be in makeup in a minute. I’ll collar him there.’

27

Nick’s phone buzzed on the table in front of him. He glanced at the screen. Adrienne.

‘You can take that if you want,’ the makeup artist said.

Nick leant forward and tapped “Decline”. Adrienne had been in a foul mood with him when he left LA in the small hours of this morning. He’d refused to engage with her wedding plans, and he didn’t want to deal with any more discussions about colour schemes and guest lists and bloody stupid wedding favours now. He had hoped she’d be content with a quick trip to Vegas, but no. She wanted to empty his bank account with the most lavish wedding Hollywood had seen for years.

‘It can wait,’ he said as he sank back into the chair.

He tried to focus on gathering his thoughts for the upcoming interview, but his mind had other ideas.

Nick looked at his reflection in the mirror, wondering, not for the first time, how he’d become the middle-aged man who was looking back at him. The bright white bulbs shining around the mirror accentuated every flaw in his skin, and there were too many of those now for his liking. The crepey neck and wrinkled eyelids were his father’s, not his. He looked and felt every one of his 54 years. Jet lag wasn’thelping, and the relentless rain as he walked out of Heathrow earlier hadn’t just dampened his coat.

Buck up, Nixon. You’ll feel better in a few days.Tomorrow there would be more interviews, followed by a visit to his mother. Then, he could escape back to the warm Californian sunshine.

‘Mr Nixon?’ The woman wielding the powder brush had finished. ‘Are you happy with that?’ she asked, making eye contact with him in the mirror.

‘Yes, thank you,’ he said, flashing her his best smile. She grinned back at him. She had striking green eyes and a good figure, too. Perhaps he could while away a few hours with her later. It would take his mind off his worries and have the added bonus that if Adrienne found out (and there was a good chance that she would - the paparazzi were always very interested in his movements), that would halt the wedding fiasco. Not that he’d ever cheated on her, but it would be easier than having to deal with it directly.You coward, Nixon.

‘My mum’s a big fan of yours,’ the makeup artist said. ‘She’ll be so excited when I tell her I worked with you today.’

He smiled at her again, but not with his eyes this time. Her mother was a fan. Of course. He was old enough to be her father. He was in danger of becoming as bad as that pervy bastard of a manager of Lisa’s band.

Lisa. Despite years of pouring his heart out to the most expensive therapists that money could buy, his thoughts always managed to find a way back to Lisa.Concentrate on prepping for the interview!

He stood up, ready to return to his dressing room, but a commotion outside the door stopped him. He became aware of a woman's strident voice and then a man’s grunt.

She appeared out of nowhere, standing with her hands on her hips, glaring at him, all 5 foot 5 inches of her. Nick’s burly bodyguard, Brad, followed her into the room as fast as hecould, which wasn’t that fast, thanks to a limp he hadn’t had a few minutes ago.

‘I need to talk to you, Nick Nixon,’ she said. ‘Now!’

Bloody hell! After all this time, they were finally in the same room. But this wasn’t the loving, caring Lisa of his dreams. This was a seriously angry version. The last time he’d seen her like that was when a music journalist had told her women were in bands purely for decorative purposes. But at least her anger hadn’t been directed at him then.Say something, Nick!

‘Hi, Lisa’ was all he could manage.

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