I Kissed A Playboy (14 page)

‘Once you have the opportunity to talk properly, you uncover a man with a lion’s heart; a man willing to protect anyone he can, irrespective of any differences he may have with them personally. With money, good-looks and a luxury lifestyle the majority of people will only ever dream of, it would be all too easy to carry on life without ever looking down or those struggling beneath.

Brian was open-minded this week and happily confronted or conformed to new situations. He was interested in learning how to effectively assist those with Muscular Dystrophy via the hospital. Money can never buy a compassionate nature. The answer to your question is no. The money, good-looks and lifestyle barely registered as we grew close and continue to grow closer.’

‘Is it love?’

‘Yes,’ they replied in tandem.

Brian saw Faith blink to hold in a tear.

‘Has Faith truly tamed you, Brian?’

‘I wasn’t a creature to be tamed. What Faith did was give me the first real opportunity I’ve ever had to be myself. I seized it and realized I like the man I am. I like the person I am around Faith. Record it, mock it, but Faith opened my heart to love. Once a man has had a taste, he stops looking at all those undersized, attractive, disposable women, who doggedly chase men only for the potential benefits of the package they possess.’

‘Is this Cinderella story the real deal?’

‘Absolutely. I lost a shoe on our first proper date. Well, I say first, we’d gone out for pizza the first night but that was part of the auction. I’m not sure it counts as a date. It felt like a date, though. That would mean I lost my shoe like Cinderella on our second date. Brian didn’t get it back. There were too many people photographing us for him to scrabble on the pavement to hunt it out.

Even if he had wanted to, I’d have stopped him. It was a cheap ballet pump. I’m not even sure I purchased it from a proper shoe shop. I probably grabbed it at a supermarket or something. In which case it’s not a Cinderella story, because he never presented me with the shoe. Plus, I was out way past midnight and I don’t have any step sisters. I don’t have any sisters. Just a twin brother.’

Brian put a hand on Faith’s knee.

‘Babbling,’ he chided.

‘It’s not a Cinderella story. We’re making our own romantic fairytale—tailored to us.’

‘You sound like a changed man, Brian. Doubtless hearts over the globe will break at the news of you settling down.’

Neither denied that they were settling down with each other.

‘A secretary and hospital volunteer finding love with a playboy billionaire is romantic spin. Talk me through the actual work you’ve been doing here, Brian. What have you learnt? Has volunteering on the Muscular Dystrophy ward changed you in any way?’

‘Absolutely. The one thing we know is that there’s no cure for the disorder at this present moment, but if we don’t have researchers active in this field, then we stand no chance of ever having a breakthrough with the cure. I’m proud the money I spent at the auction went straight to the grant.’

‘Having a twin brother suffering from this condition is heartbreaking. When the research grant was revoked due to cost cutting operations, I was devastated. The money from the gala, especially Brian’s winning bid has given the researchers at least a six month extension. The key is to try every available funding avenue for research to continue,’ interjected Faith.

‘In the meantime, as research can take place, there needs to be a focus providing a means for sufferers of the syndrome to enjoy various hobbies and pursuits that they have an interest in in spite of their physical limitations. Having spoken to some patients, I learnt exclusion from sports occurs regularly.

‘I play in a local soccer team. It transpires Faith’s brother loved soccer and played till he wasn’t physically able to. Having conducted research it transpires wheelchair soccer exists as a genuine sport. There’s no team locally, so in conjunction with Faith’s brother Gabriel, I’m forming and managing a wheelchair soccer team as part of my current club.’

Faith froze in her chair. It was the first mention she’d heard of it. She couldn’t believe Brian wouldn’t have talked this through with her.

‘I think giving any disabled person the opportunity to take part in the same activities as able-bodied people is one of the most useful and valuable gifts to enhance the quality of their life. Muscular Dystrophy is hard to work with in that respect, but it can be done,’ concluded Brian proudly.

‘Is it Porterhouse Senior who’ll be sponsoring the wheelchair soccer team?’ asked the interviewer, hooked on Brian’s words.

‘No it won’t be. I sponsor my own soccer club. I’ll personally be sponsoring the new team. I’ll be branching out to reveal other means to bring about the real opportunity to reintroduce the interests and hobbies people with this condition may have assumed they were excluded from. It’s exciting stuff.’

‘That’s the point of course,’ said Faith.

‘Can you clarify that?’ asked the interviewer, fully aware of the change in the Faith’s body language.

‘Brian’s picking up on the fun aspects of the charity. Raising money for research obviously sounds boring when you’re talking about wheelchair soccer in the same context, but it’s important to walk away from here today knowing that research is the priority for a cure.’

‘I think it’s important to be informed on the reason and value of research, but as we have no cure to date it’s also imperative to be active in the present. We have to make positive changes right now so sufferers today enjoy getting up and have something to look forward to. To sit in a wheelchair day in and day out hoping a cure will be found is a waste of a life. To encourage living while research is ongoing makes more sense.’

Brian glowered at Faith. After his conversation with his father, he’d automatically assumed Faith would support this venture, instead she was tearing it to shreds.

‘Gabe might be in a wheelchair, but his mobility is limited. Would he even be able to actually play the game? He wouldn’t have the strength in his upper body to wheel a chair for the duration of a full match.’ hissed Faith.

‘The game can be played with powered electric wheelchairs. All of which I intend to supply to the team to ensure the equipment caters specifically for the sport and don’t interfere with the normal day-to-day wheelchairs. Strong reliable mobility equipment is a must for any sufferer,’ said Brian knowingly.

‘And if Gabe can’t play? If you encourage these people and they can’t play? Have you thought how they’ll feel if you offer them a dream, or snippet of hope then snatch it away? Won’t that be even worse?’ snarled Faith.

‘There’s other sports out there for wheelchair users and I read that umpiring is feasible. There’s definitely something out there for anyone looking to participate in sport or reconnect with neglected hobbies,’ said Brian, desperate to remain professional.

‘This interview was supposed to help raise money for Muscular Dystrophy research, not be used as a tool to portray you as a changed man bringing ‘fun’ to the lives of the less fortunate.

‘I thought the interview was us as a partnership. I thought you wanted me and my public presence to promote the disorder. Haven’t you got exactly that? Isn’t that what you asked for Faith?’ his hard voice demonstrated she’d penetrated his calm exterior.

‘Had you turned up on time at the auction we could’ve done that without this three-ring-circus. Two photographers were waiting and waiting for your arrival but left assuming you’d be a no-show. Then you staggered in drunk, not knowing what you were bidding for.’

‘Are you saying you wished I hadn’t attended?’

‘I’m saying I wish you’d turned up on time at the original charity gala. Then the PR team could’ve managed this effectively with the hospital as the star feature, not you clambering for your ever elusive fame.’

‘But we found each other,’ he said sullenly, hoping her love for him was as real as his was for her.

‘I wish you’d bid for someone else. You still think only of yourself and how best to make life fun. In essence that’s what you’ve done this week. It’s why I didn’t want to mix business with sex. This was always a transaction first and foremost. You couldn’t respect that, because what Brian wants, Brian gets. You’ve jumped on-board something you have no understanding of to catapult yourself to be part of the fame game.’

‘That’s not fair. I’ve put a lot of time and thought into this endeavor. You gave my life purpose and direction. This might be an area I can succeed in. I thought I’d have your support,’ stuttered Brian.

The interviewer noted his stuttering. Brian was always eloquent and well-spoken. He stammered as a young child but excessive lessons removed the verbal tic.

‘Not only have you completely stolen the attention the hospital requires for funding with your jolly wheelchair soccer team, but you’ve broken my heart in the process allowing me to believe I was more important to you than the blinding light of the flashes.’

Faith left the room dismayed.

‘Print the interview. I’m done.’ stammered Brian numbly as he shook hands with everyone in the room to hurry along his exit.

Chapter Sixteen

‘Sounds catastrophic,’ consoled Gabe.

His pregnant fiancé had prepared Faith a hot chocolate, but both were confused as to what the real issue was. As Faith looked up at the pretty Hispanic girl, maternally caring for her sister-in-law-to-be the hysterical crying started.

‘Sweetheart I’m confused. I don’t know if it’s my pregnant hormones, but none of this is making sense. Gabriel tells me you and the playboy are perfect and in love. This man is setting up a soccer club for Gabriel to play again. Gabriel’s big dream. Somehow this has angered you. I confess, to me he does not sound like a bad man.’

‘That’s because he’s not. If we’d treated it as a business transaction. Kept our feelings separate and out of the equation at each meeting, treated those sessions as formal and professional then everything would have come together as I planned.’

‘It may not have come happened as you planned but this week is the happiest I’ve seen you in ages,’ said Gabriel matter-of-factly.

‘That was the whole problem. I could handle it if he’d treated me like a tissue, a girl to be binned without a thought. To be branded a boring, lonely, do-good, ball breaker, charity worker I could deal with, but that’s not me and that’s not what Brian saw. Strangely, Brian relates to people. Feels for them. However he’s treated them, whether they’ve been pleasant or nasty, whatever triggered behaviors and actions in his relationships, he always considered their feelings, going out of his way to protect them. To have someone see my soul and rush to cradle it, how was I ever going to keep things separate?’

‘You make falling in love sound a bad thing,’ said Sasha, taking Faith’s hand to put on her bump letting her feel the baby kick.

‘Loving Brian isn’t a bad thing. For me it’s a blessing, but I’ve done something awful and every time I remember it, it breaks my heart because I know it’ll drive him away when he finds out. I witnessed it tonight. I’ll lose the best thing that ever happened to me.’

‘If the man loves you, he will always love you. Forgiving takes time, but love lasts forever,’ said Sasha wisely.

‘I’m not sure there’s any point trying. I betrayed him.’

‘You slept with someone else?’ asked Gabe incredulously.

‘No. I did something, initiated something that will hurt him. This once Gabe, I can’t confide in you. He has to be the first to hear it.’

Faith didn’t sleep. She spent hours on the internet, trawling gossip blogs. As the hours passed, photographs of Brian in nightclubs surrounded by women popped up online, as did one of him crashing drunkenly out of a club with two blonde girls supporting his weight draped under each arm. The malicious remarks were in reference to his short lived charitable affair with Faith. Her heart fractured at each new picture uploaded.

Only yesterday he’d been claiming he wanted to spend forever with her. It seemed forever only lasted a week with Brian Porterhouse. Despite the hurt, she knew it was she who’d driven him away. Her guilt and fear won in the end. It consumed her to the point where she couldn’t bear being bathed in his unconditional love. She’d ripped away the close bond they’d developed in such a short space.

She left the house early for the newsagent early Saturday morning. The front cover photo was of her and Brian in a heart, but edited to look as though it were torn in half. Their faces were those of a couple in love.

Reading the article, the interviewer had come down on her side. Comments and praise from Brian lavished on Faith had been edited out. He was portrayed as a publicity hungry playboy who had used a simple, sweet secretary with a sick brother as a stepping stone to curry public favor to create an interest in his fledging career. It was unfair and untrue.

The article boldly had an edited version of her final words to Brian emblazoned over the interview ‘Not only have you completely stolen the limelight from the hospital’s necessary funding with your jolly wheelchair soccer team, but you’ve broken my heart, too.’

She had no number for Susie to rectify the situation and she couldn’t face Brian’s justified wrath to get Susie’s number to resolve the poorly written article. Scanning the newspaper the magazine came in, she found a contact number and dialed to speak to an editor.

Unless she was prepared to sue there was not a lot Faith could do to put things right. She’d half hoped a pesky journalist would be on the front doorstep to investigate or seek her opinion on Brian’s flagrant partying last night, but given the rags-to-riches romance was finished before it began, there was no interest in her.

While Faith contemplated her next step, Brian was hung over and sleepy. For reasons beyond his comprehension he was greatly relieved not to see a random woman in his bed. Astounded that he hadn’t slept with a gorgeous nymph to boost his ego, he was optimistic he’d exercised enough self control to be in a position to swallow his pride and follow his heart.

His mobile bleeped. For once it wasn’t Susie. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed that it wasn’t Faith. He was however dumbstruck to find a text from his father.

‘Still keen to discuss corporate responsibility?’
read Porterhouse Senior’s text.

Brian fought the urge to hurl the phone at the wall. Although he hadn’t read the article, clearly his father had. Evidently it wasn’t even close to the satisfactory Cinderella story he’d been hoping for. Similar to most men, Brian was able to compartmentalize when duty-bound. Faith was lost to him. He had no idea how to reach her but that couldn’t be his focus right then.

Rereading his father’s text, he contemplated the ‘corporate responsibility’ issue. Did he really want his father’s company becoming actively involved in supporting charities and prevalent social issues? The answer was yes. It would benefit the Porterhouse Media; a company he had shares in and it was of interest to him. It was something with or without Faith he had to do, knew he could organize and it felt right.

Maybe he hadn’t fought at eighteen to be part of Porterhouse Media, but at twenty-five he sure as hell would now. Brian composed then sent his text.

‘Absolutely, Dad. Looking forward to the meeting and going through the material to knock out a few ideas with you.’

He noted his father didn’t text back, but didn’t care. The lack of communication spoke volumes.

Faith took the bold step of calling Porterhouse Media directly. Whilst the company opened on weekends because of the varying mediums it used that ran twenty four hours, seven days a week, Porterhouse Senior wasn’t on the premises. She’d expected that but risked asking for his phone number.

The receptionist almost scoffed at the suggestion, then politely recited the policy of private numbers. When Faith said who she was and why she was ringing, the receptionist offered to transfer her to Porterhouse Senior’s cell phone directly.

It rang. Faith was half hoping for voice-mail, but he answered the phone.

‘Porterhouse.’

‘Mr. Porterhouse, sorry to bother you on the weekend and I hope this isn’t an inconvenient time but my name’s Faith Spires. I wanted to talk to you regarding an interview you may have read.’

‘It wasn’t one of my publications.’

‘Yes I know that. It’s only, I’d like your advice.’

‘My advice is stay away from Brian. You’re a nice girl doing nice things, that’s not who Brian is.’

‘Actually that’s exactly who Brian is and that’s why I need you. They’ve edited the story, excluded questions and answers, taken quotes out of context; painted a poor picture of him.’

‘Welcome to the wonderful world of newspaper publishing, precious!’

Faith despised the tone of his voice.

‘Your son is a good man and I don’t know how I can remedy what’s happened. I know nothing about the how the press works.’

‘Let him and his trusty PR agent manage it and stay clear. Heed my warning, young lady.’

‘Don’t you care in the slightest? Don’t you care that people all over the country are reading a trashy magazine, thinking your son to be heinous womanizer when he’s a bright, bold, beautiful man?’

‘I care that he’s in a magazine, but I don’t care why.’

‘Do an interview with me?’ insisted Faith.

‘I beg your pardon.’

‘Get one of your papers or magazines to do an interview with me. I can put the record straight.’

‘Ms. Spires, let me remind you who I am.’

‘I don’t care for your name, sir, or your money, but I care for your son.’

‘People don’t tell me what to do.’

‘In this instance I shouldn’t have to tell you, but as you aren’t listening I feel I have to. Don’t let people demonize your son. Please. I’m begging you,’ she said assertively.

‘Is this a tiff between you and Brian or have you broken up?’

Remembering Sasha’s romantic view of love and forgiveness, she did what Brian would do – be optimistic.

‘It’s a tiff. That’s why I’d like it resolved formally in the papers. It can easily spiral. I don’t want to lose him; not because of silly disagreement mid-interview.’

‘You’ve a lot to learn if you’re going to be with him permanently.’

‘I know that. I’m a quick study. It was stupid losing my temper. I should’ve waited, but I have to make this right.’

‘I’ll talk to my son and get back to you,’ said Porterhouse Senior, hanging up abruptly.

It was not the response she’d prayed to receive.