Page 26 of Famous Last

Before he opened the downstairs door, he acted the dutiful son and texted his mother to tell her he had arrived home safely, a ritual he had agreed to and would probably continue for as long as they were both alive.

Tiger met him as he opened the top door to his apartment. As always, after parking his luggage and kicking his shoes off, he spent a few minutes kneeling and petting her until she eventually provided her ‘all-is-forgiven’ purr, made better when he poured dried food into her bowl. With her cared for, he set about unpacking his bag and heading to his small bedroom wardrobe to choose an outfit for work the next day. Once done, he switched on the Bluetooth speaker on his coffee table and put on some soft jazz music, then checked the fridge for an evening meal. Gino’s wife had left him some fresh milk, but he had little else apart from a half loaf of bread, a couple of eggs and some butter. In the freezer, he had stocked up with store-boughtfrozen meals for the week ahead but decided he might treat himself to one of Gino’s pizzas. As he readied to pop downstairs, his front-door buzzer sounded.

Out of necessity, Spencer had personally invested in a video phone so he didn’t have to hike all the way downstairs and use the spyhole every time someone called on him. Too many times—back when Romano’s could open late—they’d had drunks falling out of the pizza shop in the early hours and ringing his doorbell for fun. Right now, on checking the monitor, he let out an audible gasp on seeing the silhouette of a tall figure in a dark ski cap and sunglasses standing outside his door. After a pause, curiosity got the better of him, and he pressed the answer button.

“Hello? Who is it?”

“It’s me,” came the hesitant, yet vaguely familiar, voice.

“Sorry. Who’s me?”

“Marshall. Marshall Highlander,” said the man, before looking up into the camera lens while pulling down his mask and removing the shades. “Can I—um—can I come in?”

Spencer gaped for a moment, unable to believe his eyes. Marshall Highlander stood on his doorstep, had come to see Spencer in his hour of need. Without a moment of hesitation, he pushed the intercom button.

“Hang on a minute. I’ll come down and let you in.”

Chapter Eight

When Spencer yanked open the door, Marshall stood there, a large black bag over one shoulder. Even in the wan light of the pizza shop, he appeared hesitant, scared almost.

“Is it okay if I come in? I know we don’t know each other that well. And I didn’t even return your text yesterday, although, to be honest, things have been a little manic. But I’m—well—I’ve run out of options of places to go and people who I can trust. I suppose I could hole up in a small hotel somewhere, but even then the bastards can still find—”

“For goodness’ sake, Marshall, get in here.”

Spencer opened the door wide and pulled him by the arm over the threshold. Before closing the door, he leant outside and checked the pavement. Everything appeared as usual. A masked couple entered the pizza shop arm in arm chatting, happily absorbed in each other’s company, but the street was otherwise empty. Satisfied, Spencer closed and bolted the door before turning round.

Marshall had perched on a lower step of the staircase. He looked utterly defeated, his scarf lowered, his mask and glasses now removed. A large holdall sat next to him. Spencer watched him rub his hands up and down his face and through his hair, as though to wash away what must have been a nightmare of a weekend. When he stopped and looked up at Spencer, dark circles beneath his eyes spoke of sleepless nights, and his skin stretched taut with anxiety. Did he think Spencer might turn him away? The man looked not so much hounded as hunted. Atthe thought, Spencer’s heart wrenched, and he did exactly what his mother would have done in the same situation—he scooped Marshall up from the step into a tight hug.

Held close, he could feel Marshall’s body trembling, maybe with tension, maybe with relief, but quivering nonetheless.

“Hey, don’t worry,” said Spencer, rubbing Marshall’s back. “You’re safe here.”

“Am I?”

“Of course you are.”

After a few moments, feeling Marshall’s body relax, Spencer let go.

“You’d think I would be immune to this.” Marshall appeared embarrassed at showing weakness. “Or at least understand the score. I work alongside the paparazzi much of the time, don’t necessarily agree with their principles, but we’ve always had a mutual understanding. Being their target is not pleasant. Not pleasant at all. I knew they would be waiting for me outside my flat in South Kensington, so I asked the taxi driver to take me past Darcy’s place in Chelsea, and saw the bastards had set up camp there, too. I realised then they would be hanging around anyone I’m connected to. That’s when I thought of you. I got him to drop me at the Tube station here. I remembered you saying you’d be coming home from your parents’ place on Sunday evening. I would have called or texted you, but my phone died on me.”

“Come on, let’s get you upstairs,” said Spencer, leading the way. He wondered how long Marshall had waited around for him to appear, deciding there and then not to bring up the newspaper story. “That was you outside the Tube station mini market?”

“I’m afraid so.” Spencer heard Marshall following behind. “I was going to ask the cabbie to drive around the area and find a pizza shop—I remember you telling me you lived above one—butthen worried the guy might recognise me and notify someone. Apparently paranoia comes with the territory.”

“Just good sense, if you ask me. The driver probably thinks you’re catching the Tube back into town. Now be careful in here. I have a cat who thinks she’s the most important living creature on the planet. You will either be ignored as unimportant or hissed at as an intruder, and hopefully not clawed.”

When Spencer unlocked the door, Tiger sat in the doorway to the bedroom, nosey as ever, eyeing them both. As Marshall stepped into the room, she came straight over and brushed herself against his leg, her tail in the air. Spencer’s mouth dropped open.

“I have never, ever, seen her do that to another human being,” said Spencer, watching Marshall reach down and scratch her head, and more incredulously, watching her not only allow him but positively purr her enjoyment at the attention. “I kid you not, my brother is scared of her. She’s even been known tobitehim.”

“She’s a beauty. What’s her name?”

“Tiger,” said Spencer. “Tiger Neon.”

“After the Killers song?”

“You see? With that kind of taste in music, of course you’re welcome here. Now, sit yourself down and let me get you something to drink. I’ve only got tea or coffee, I’m afraid. Nothing stronger.”

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