Page 4 of I Knew You Were Trouble

‘You make it your own. Give it a female slant. Show them why you’re considered the current mistress of the fly-on-the-wall documentary. If anyone can make it good, Lexi, you can.’

In my flat, I’m angry. And not just irritated, but consumed with fury. I toss my keys on the table, my gaze settling on the photograph of my mother.

Astrid Lowell was an actress. Not a particularly successful one, in part because of an unplanned pregnancy, giving birth to me at the tender age of twenty-three. I know I haven’t inherited my mother’s striking looks, her vivid blue eyes, or her giraffe limbs, instead inheriting my chocolate brown hair, hazel eyes and average stature from my American father’s side of the family.

I stalk to the fridge, reaching for a bottle of wine that’s already open. I pop the cork and hold it between my teeth as I fill myself a generous glass. My mother’s mantra was, ‘Work hard. Always be professional. Never complain.’ I’ve always tried to abide by those rules. Replacing the bottle back in the fridge, I raise a toast to my mother’s photograph, letting out a slow, unsteady breath.

‘I promise I’ll do a good job, Mum. I promise I will be professional. I’ll work hard. But given that it’s Rebel Heart I’ll be working with, I can’t promise that I won’t complain.’

I down the entire contents of the glass. I need to call Duncan.

Passing the shelf that holds my award, I pause. Apparently winning an accolade like an Oscar earns you nothing. No respect. No choices. Just a pair of so-called golden handcuffs and a handful of shaky promises.

I am trapped.

In a decision I know I might later regret, I hurl my Oscar at the wall.

Chapter Two

In Heathrow’s light and airy departures hall at Terminal 3, the check-in kiosks bustling with passengers, I’m still annoyed. My Oscar statuette has a noticeable dent in it. So does my wall. And I’m preparing to get on a plane to Japan to work with the world’s most famous boy band. I step over the two heavy-duty Peli cases containing cameras and kit that is all going into oversized baggage.

‘Good morning,’ a voice says from behind me. As I turn, Meredith stands waiting, a nervous smile on her face.

‘Meredith!’ I force a smile. ‘Hi. I’m so sorry I walked out on you the other day. I was…’

‘Please, call me Mer. It’s no problem. I get that Vaughn has strongarmed you into this project. I know it would never be your first choice of assignment.’

I give a dramatic shrug. ‘It’s been a hard pill to swallow, but here we are. I watched some Rebel Heart videos. You’re going to have to fill me in on who’s who.’

Meredith holds up a paper file. ‘I came prepared. I hope you don’t mind… I contacted the airline. Told them we’d be travelling together and to put us in adjacent seats. I can spend some of the flight going through all the details.’

She hands me the file. I open it to find a profile on each band member.

‘Looks like a fun read,’ a voice says in a Scottish baritone from behind me.

I turn around again to find Duncan standing in ripped jeans, a leather jacket and brown leather boots, his six-foot-three frame towering over both me and Meredith. At twenty-six, he’s characteristically low-key, with his small canvas holdall slung over his shoulder, his short, light blonde hair having had a fresh cut.

‘You’re here,’ I exclaim, embracing him. ‘Oh, Christ, that means this isn’t all a dream and it’s actually happening. Dunc, this is Meredith, Mer, this is Duncan Gray, my chief camera operator.’

Duncan holds out his hand. ‘I’m heronlycamera operator. Alright?’

Meredith’s cheeks flush red as she reaches for his hand. ‘Oh man, are you from Scotland?’

‘Did the voice give us away?’ Duncan says.

It’s sweet how Meredith’s always so cheerful.

‘I love your accent,’ Meredith says. ‘I’ve never been; always wanted to go.’

‘Where you from?’ Duncan asks.

‘California. Saratoga, near Silicon Valley. My parents also own a small place in Huntington Beach. It’s on the coast… I mean, of course it is, it’s a beach…’

I watch the two of them interact, Meredith turning another shade of beetroot, before I ask Duncan how his blind date went from the night before.

‘Well, she was definitely a Rebel Heart fan. Filled me in on everyone. I am practically an encyclopedia of random band facts.’

I laugh. ‘Oh well, at least you never have to see her again.’

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