‘Please would you pass on my sincere thanks to Mr Carter for the most beautiful basket of flowers he had sent to me today. They were extremely unexpected.
Best wishes,
Grace Harris, Red Star Productions.’
Was that it? No phone call? No first name terms? He was back to being Mr Carter? He read the message twice, just to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. He was used to women throwing themselves at his feet, having to fight them off with a shitty stick; he didn’t normally have to jump through hoops to get their attention. What did this girl want? A flashing neon sign saying “call me please”?
He was sitting on the edge of his bed cussing to himself when his brother knocked briskly on the door before striding in.
“What’s that look for? You don’t even know what I’m gonna say yet!” Cameron looked a little put out at the indecipherable expression on his brother’s face.
Alex smiled, softening his features considerably. “Sorry, Cam. Just checking my mail. What’s up?”
“We’re off down to the lake with the kids; give Mum and Dad some peace. Isla wants you to come with us. If you stick a cap on and cover your arms up maybe no one will recognise you.” Cameron was hopeful as he took in the sight of him sitting forlornly on the bed. “You can’t spend the next few weeks, or however long it is you plan on spending at Mum’s, sat in the house just in case someone wants an autograph. Come on, please. Emma and I will fight them off. If it gets crazy we’ll just jump in the car.”
After thirty minutes of persuasion Alex gave in to Cameron’s hair brained scheme about a trip to the lake with the kids. The fresh air might just enable him to come up with a way to get Grace to call him. Digging out his plainest sweater and baseball cap, which he pulled down so far over his eyes, he was surprised he didn’t fall down the stairs. After checking his appearance in the hallway mirror he jumped in the back of his brother’s hire car.
Walking down towards the lake Isla gripped his hand tightly, chatting away to him about how she lovedto feed the ducks, but they would need to look after Freddie as he wasn’t too keen. Alex promised he would take care of her and her brother. Laughing as she slid on a patch of mud, he watched her face crumble in front of him before he scooped her into his arms to kiss her better.
“See, all these people just keep walking right past you. Nobody has a clue who you are.” Emma smiled as she watched Alex tenderly taking care of her daughter. Seeing him like this it was hard to imagine him any other way. If she hadn’t witnessed his public persona with her own eyes it would be a hard image to summon up. To them he was just a regular guy, the same guy that grew up in a not so nice area who still lived by the same values that had been instilled in him from birth.
“Yeah, it’s different when they don’t know where I am. Quieter, less hassle. Besides, I think the kids are creating a better disguise than I gave them credit for. They don’t expect to see the family man.” He chuckled at the thought of the paps snapping pictures of him feeding the ducks with his niece.
Emma took the little girl to play on the swings once all the stale bread had gone, leaving the boys to push Freddie in the stroller. “So, what got you all churned up this morning? Bad press?” Cameron asked as he tucked the blanket tighter around his son.
It took him a minute to realise what Cameron was asking about but the confused look soon melted away from his face. “Nah, nothing like that. It’s nothing. Just publicity stuff. This magazine wants us all to do this naked shoot thing. I was checking that Iz turned it down, that’s all.”
His brother took one look at him before laughing loudly. “That is complete crap! If it’s not the press then it has to be a girl! They are the only two things that would cause you to look like you did this morning. Come on, spill it. Who is she?”
It was fruitless to try and hide anything from the man he grew up with. They had always been close; all through school they were inseparable, always watching each other’s backs. He had always turned to his brother for advice from the very beginning when the band first got together, right through his career. When he had a bad feeling about anything he would run it by Cameron first. He usually helped him figure everything out. Biting the bullet, he told his brother all about Grace, sending her the flowers and how she had brushed him off in the email.
“You really like her? It must be really intimidating for her, you know, you being part of the band and all. I mean you’re fucking huge, Alex. What normal girl in her right mind would have the balls to ring you? Sureyou gave her a number to call, but she’s probably under the impression that you do that crap all the time. She’ll read the hype and believe it, just like everyone else.” Cameron took a long look at his brother who was staring into space nodding vaguely. “Or maybe she just doesn’t like flowers. Why don’t you phone her? If she hasn’t rung you then she probably isn’t going to, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to talk to you. Phone her.” He patted Alex on the back, amazed at how uncertain the man was. This one must have really caught his eye if he was asking his advice. Alex, on the other hand, wasn’t sure that calling her was the answer either.
When they arrived back at the house he began his hunt for Izzie’s contacts book. She had disappeared out with a couple of girlfriends for the evening and he couldn’t wait for her to return; he needed to do this now. Almost tearing her room apart he found the tablet under her bed. Opening it he began clicking on random files trying to find where she stored her contacts. God, he wished he paid attention when she spoke sometimes, maybe then he would know what all this shit meant. Eventually finding the right folder he scrolled down the list of contacts until he found the one he wanted. Pulling out his phone he began to dial. All girls liked chocolate, didn’t they?
“Hello, can I place an order for delivery first thing in the morning? Great, I thought I might be too late. Thanks.” Alex reeled off his requirements before reciting his card details. He paid the extra delivery charge and added in a hefty tip to make sure his order would definitely arrive tomorrow morning. Feeling rather smug with himself he headed back downstairs to where his family were gathered.
He spent the evening laughing with his dad and brother as they played pool and downed a few beers in the games room. Stripping his sweater off, his dad began to give him hell about the new tattoos he’d had done.
“Do you really have to keeping adding to them? Are you done now with them? I think you have enough. I’m not surprised you don’t have a girlfriend, look at the state of your arm. There is more ink than skin for crying out loud!” he grumbled as he lined up his next shot.
The brothers laughed at how old fashioned their father was. The man still rose at seven every day, and still wore a shirt and tie despite being retired for years. His mum thought it gave him a sense of purpose in life.
“Em has one on her butt, Dad. They’re not exclusive to guys or even Alex for that matter!”
The old man missed his shot as the image of hisdaughter-in-law’s tattooed butt cheek flashed through his mind. “Jesus H Christ! Does your mother know? Please God tell me it’s nothing crass. On second thoughts, don’t tell me any more. I really don’t need to know.” The man was just thankful it wasn’t on show and nobody need ever know about it.
The boys bent double with laughter at the look of disdain on their father’s face.
“I had the band logo on my shoulder too, do you wanna see it?” Alex lifted his shirt allowing his brother to take in the emblem that now sat in the hollow at the front of his shoulder. It blended in to the edges of the tribal design that began at the crest of his arm before flowing down towards his elbow. Cameron smiled in appreciation of the artwork. He always used the same guy for all his ink; the man was an absolute genius. “There are a couple more things I wanna get done and I need to finish the one on my back, but then I’m done, Pops.”
The old man shook his head distastefully, muttering some profanity under his breath as he ducked behind the bar, grabbing three more bottles of beer. Handing them to his sons he said, “What do you say we make this a little more interesting, boys?”
Patrick pulled out a twenty from his wallet andlaid it on the edge of the table. Taking his bet, they carried on playing into the early hours of the morning with their father managing to win a tidy sum.
Grace took in the sight of the enormous hamper that sat on the table before her. A wave of nausea flowed over her. Why would anyone need that much chocolate? She trawled her way through the gargantuan wicker basket; milk, dark and white chocolate, and truffles of every imaginable flavour nestled next to colossal creations all sculpted from expensive chocolate. She was only glad that everyone else had gone home when the delivery guy had turned up. At least now she wouldn’t have the embarrassment of having to explain who had sent the gift. Turning the white card over in her hand she read the simple inscription, which again included a phone number with the instruction to call him. Was this man for real? She wasn’t some teenage stalker that was about to throw herself at his mercy. She hadn’t hung around by the stage door desperate to catch his attention,fainting when he finally noticed her and flashed his panty dropping smile in her direction.
She was a grown woman with a job, a job that she loved, and she wasn’t about to let the famous Alex Carter interfere with that. The attention the flowers had drawn to her was embarrassing enough and now this! Huffing loudly she shut the hamper up, turned off her computer and cleared up her desk for the night. She would think of some polite way to tell him enough was enough via yet another email tomorrow.
