‘Yeah, I can do that. Happy to help.’ Mark shrugged sheepishly.
Alex looked around at their eager faces and tucked his phone away. They were so desperate to help, he didn’t want to disappoint them. ‘Sure, let’s do this.’
It all went according to plan, which was a miracle in itself.
Martin was happy to help. He called a buddy of his, and one black cab rolled up out front, followed by another two minutes later down the back alley. The photographers had all swarmed to the front of the building as planned, not realising there was a second cab arriving. Mark distracted the crowd further by walking out front in a pulled-up hoodie and shades, while Ellie’s nanna opened the shop. It all happened so fast that in no time Alex was waving goodbye to Ellie through the back window as his black cab sped off down a side street.
‘Thanks for doing this,’ he said to the driver, a bald man in his late fifties.
‘No worries, mate, anything for Ellie. She’s been my girl’s best friend since they were kids – been through thick and thin together. She’s a good girl.’
‘Yeah, she’s awesome,’ Alex agreed, relaxing into the leather seat.
He only hoped this wouldn’t be the last time he saw her. Ellie had agreed the previous night to come to the awards with him, but she’d seemed reluctant when he’d mentioned it this morning. Understandable really, considering she barely knew him, and she’d now experienced the chaos of his life first hand.
Should he leave her be? Forget taking her to the Olivier Awards and let her live her life?
Why had he even asked her in the first place?
He thought of how his blood heated every time he was near her, the tempting curves of her body and the playful gleam in her eye. And then he thought of how Ellie had been the first person to form any sort of connection with him in months, possibly even years, and how the weight of his loneliness lifted in her company. But hadn’t he moved around enough as a kid to realise that no relationships were ever permanent? Especially under the glare of public scrutiny. He should focus on finding his feet, rebuilding his life, not dragging someone else into his mess.Besides, he was asking too much of her, and she was vulnerable after losing her friend.
‘Is your daughter called Hannah?’ Alex asked curiously.
‘Yes, that’s her. Had to drop her off at Heathrow very early this morning. Not ashamed to say it, we shed a fair few tears saying goodbye to her. Me and the wife are going to miss her like mad. Yer lucky the traffic was good and I was back in time to help ya.’
‘I’m sorry, you must be exhausted.’
‘Nah, yer all right,’ said Martin with a shake of his shiny head. ‘Happy to help. Sometimes it’s best to keep busy – a welcome distraction, honestly. I’ll be worried sick until I know she’s landed safe.’
Alex settled down and listened to Martin chat about his family and the unseasonably warm weather they’d been having, while they wound through the grey London streets. But his mind kept returning to Martin’s earlier words:a welcome distraction.
Had he been wrong to hide away and avoid the press? Wouldn’t it be better to give them something – positive – to focus on? A welcome distraction?
But what could possibly distract the paparazzi from Liam and Savannah’s wedding and turn the tide of bad feeling towards him? Fame was a double-edged sword. He hated it, but he also knew he would have no work without it. Even this theatre-directing gig would have been impossible without his connections and celebrity status.
Which again raised the question: who would he be if he wasn’t part of the King family legacy?
‘Here you are,’ said Martin, bringing him back down to earth, as they pulled up outside his hotel.
‘Ah, thanks man,’ Alex said, getting out his wallet.
‘No need.’
They had a good-natured battle for payment for a few moments. Eventually Martin accepted the notes Alex thrust athim, and gave him his number in case Alex got stuck without a driver again.
Alex’s phone began to ring as he entered his suite. A quick glance at the caller ID showed that it was the theatre’s executive director.
‘Hi, Russell, what’s up?’ he said, with a brightness he didn’t feel as he lowered himself into a nearby armchair in his lounge. Absently, he took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
‘Good morning, Alex, how was the party, I hear it was a late one? Hope you’re feeling well enough to attend the matinee.’ Russell’s voice was crisp and polished, as if he’d had elocution lessons from the King of England.
Shit, had he heard about last night already?
Alex couldn’t remember talking to anyone much except for Ellie, but his memory was like Swiss cheese.
‘Of course,’ he answered, part of him bristling at the implied censure. Who was Russell to question his lifestyle? Except he was, in fact, his boss. He wasn’t in LA now, he couldn’t just expect people to bow and scrape around him. ‘I’ll be in by twelve, plenty of time for the matinee,’ he said, keeping his voice light and relaxed.
Russell chuckled good-naturedly. Thankfully, he wasn’t the type to hold a grudge – just quietly point out his disapproval. ‘Good, good. I wasn’t sure, you see, when you didn’t come in at your usual time. But always nice to celebrate opening night. Let off a little steam and all that. Then straight back to work, hey? Focus on the run and keeping up those five-star reviews. I said as much to the cast and crew this morning.’
