Authors: Portia MacIntosh
‘With
Luke. From Two For The Road.’ I name-drop the band because he doesn’t react to
the name Luke.
‘What
are you doing here?’ he asks, cutting to the chase. ‘You could get me in
serious trouble, Nicole.’
‘Dylan,
you wouldn’t answer my calls, what was I supposed to do? We have to sort this
out.’
‘I’m
sorting it out today. I’m going to make a statement to the press this
afternoon.’ He chuckles to himself. ‘Charles will be over soon to help me
write it, so you might want to get out of here before then.’
‘Dylan,
Charles thinks we’re lying!’ I squeal. ‘How can he help you write this if he
doesn’t even believe you?’
‘Nicole,
I just want to see my kids - and get my wife back.’
I
notice he adds the wife part as an afterthought, but I don’t mention that.
‘I
know it must be hard for you, I’m sure you’re desperate to see what they look
like-’
‘I’ve
got a picture,’ he interrupts, rummaging around on the table next to him.
‘Dill,
they’re gorgeous,’ I say when he shows me the photo of two tiny baby girls.
Well, I assume they are girls because they are dressed head to toe in hot pink.
‘That’s
Chardonnay,’ he says pointing to the baby on the right.
‘Of
course it is,’ I say, and he shoots me a filthy look.
‘And
that’s Lambrini.’
I
laugh. I can’t help it.
‘She
named your child Lambrini?’
‘Don’t
take the piss, Nicole.’
‘Sorry.
But honestly, they’re beautiful.’
‘I
know, that’s why I have to make this right, so I can see them properly.’
‘Of
course. Look, I can make this statement with you, we can set them straight
together.’
‘Nicole,’
Dylan says, finally looking me in the eye. ‘I’m going to apologise.’
‘To
who?’ I’m confused.
‘To
Crystal. She says that if I make a public apology for everything I’ve done,
then she’ll come home and she’ll bring the babies with her. I just want them
back, Nicole.’
Still
confused.
‘You’re
going to apologise for what?’ I ask.
‘She
doesn’t believe me, she’s never going to believe me. If I own up to sleeping
with you and publically apologise then they’ll come home.’
‘But
you didn’t sleep with me, Dylan,’ I remind him, just in case he has forgotten.
He
shrugs his shoulders. ‘It’s the only way to get them back. You could apologise
with me, that might help.’
I
cannot believe what I’m hearing.
‘Dylan,
the only thing I am willing to apologise for is ultimately being the reason
your children are named after alcohol!’
‘Nicole,’
he says softly, but I carry on my ranting, pacing the living room floor.
‘I
am not apologising for something I didn’t do, and you should be either. The
Dylan I know didn’t even apologise for the stuff he
did
do. What’s
happened to you?’
He
says nothing.
‘How
do you think this is going to make me look? Everyone hates me, they think I’m a
homewrecker!’
‘So
apologise,’ he says, unable to look me in the eye.
At
this point Mikey walks back in the room, closely followed by Charles.
‘Get
her out of here, she’s going to ruin this, Dylan,’ Charles demands as soon as
he walks in the room.
I
look over at Dylan. He has his head in his hands.
‘Dylan?’
I call his name to get him to look at me. He doesn’t.
‘Mikey,
please can you show Miss Wilde out of the back door,’ Charles mutters.
‘Don’t
worry, Mr Pace. I was leaving anyway.’ I push myself past him, giving him a cheeky
wink as my body brushes past his. Before I leave I turn around and appeal to
Dylan one last time.
‘Don’t
do this, Dill. You know it’s wrong.’
He
doesn’t say anything. He wants his kids and this is the only way he’s going to
get them. There’s nothing left to say.
Mikey
follows me out into the hallway, closing the door behind him.
‘Go
on the, Mike. Throw the home-wrecking slut over the back fence,’ I joke,
although I half suspect that’s what he’s expected to do.
‘I
know you didn’t do it,’ he whispers. ‘And I know he’s making a mistake doing
this. I understand why he’s doing this, but it’s wrong. You don’t deserve
this.’
We
hug and I feel touched that he would side with me over his own brother, even if
it is only in secret.
‘Thanks.’
I wipe away the one tear that has managed to escape from my left eye, despite
me trying so hard to keep my emotions under control. ‘I’d like to leave out the
front door,’ I tell Mikey, remembering that there is a photographer outside.
‘Maybe
I accidentally left the key in the door when I let Charles in.’ He smiles.
I
kiss him on the cheek and turn towards the front door. I feel like a total cow
for possibly ruining any chance he has of seeing his kids, but I won’t let
Dylan ruin my reputation without a fight. Maybe if I do this he’ll be forced to
tell the truth.
I
open the door and begin my walk down the driveway. As I get to the bottom the
photographer looks at me, and I smile back at him. The expression on his face
is wonderful, like he knows who I am but he can’t quite believe his eyes.
Surely the woman Dylan King had an affair with wouldn’t be leaving his house
days later, having not been seen entering his house this morning at all. He
fumbles awkwardly with his camera, but I move slowly enough for him to get a
couple of photos (a couple of good photos - that last one was
so
embarrassing) before running off down the road. I don’t think he’s chasing me,
but I don’t stop to find out.
I
slip my shoes off in the lift of Luke’s apartment building. I ran for way
longer than I had planned to – who knew the paparazzi were so agile? I suppose
they have to be in their game.
I
grabbed a coffee and a copy of the Daily Scoop from one of the cute little
shops downstairs. I didn’t want to buy that trashy excuse for news but
curiosity got the better of me, especially when I saw the headline “Where is
Nicole Wilde?” accompanied by a photograph of Jake flashing his arse from the
balcony of my flat. I called him as soon as I saw it and he couldn’t be prouder
to have his backside on the front of a national newspaper – I’m just glad I
could help achieve his life goal.
‘Hello,’
I call out as I let myself into Luke’s flat with the spare key he gave me.
‘Luke?’
I call again, but there’s no sign of him. I check his bedroom but he isn’t
there - his phone is though, so I guess there’s no point calling him to see
where he is. Walking back into the lounge, I make myself at home. Reclining in
one of his leather armchairs, I sip my coffee and read the paper. This is the
life. The whole scenario feels weird, but strangely comfortable and it scares
me just how much I’m starting to enjoy it. That doesn’t mean I’m happy with the
whole country thinking I’m a homewrecker, though.
The
headline makes me laugh because I know that tomorrow’s paper will have an
answer to that question, and that Dylan won’t like it. Poor Dylan, he looked so
proud of his babies - even if they were named after their mum’s two favourite
things to drink. I suppose I’ll just have to wait and see what happens, there’s
nothing I can do right now. I should probably have a nap, I don’t think I got
much sleep last night. I could drop off right here, but after that huge coffee
I’m going to have to go for a wee first, I’m so showbiz.
I
hop up to go to the toilet, relieved that Luke is out because he doesn’t have a
lock on his bathroom door and I am terrified that he is going to walk in on me while
I’m on the loo - this is why I could never live with a boyfriend, I worry too
much about the little things.
As
I open the bathroom door I am totally shocked by what I see. I can’t speak, I
can’t move, I can hardly think. Luke is lying on the bathroom floor with blood
running from his head, flowing along the cracks between the floor tiles. I say
his name but he doesn’t reply, so I try to find a pulse in his neck. I’m trying
to keep calm but as I struggle to find a pulse, panic sets in. I have no idea
what to do and I don’t want to make things worse so I call an ambulance.
Luckily I have his address written on the back of my hand – I did this earlier
so that I could get a taxi home without calling my “dad”.
The
super-calm lady on the phone tells me not to touch him and to wait for the
paramedics. She keeps me on the phone while we are waiting for the ambulance to
get here, but as there is nothing I can do I glance around the room and try and
work out what has happened. There is blood on the side of the toilet, and while
I’m no Adrian Monk, I’m guessing he must have hit his head on it. Then
something catches my eye next to the sink - drugs. Oh Luke, you stupid boy. I
scoop up the perfect little white line of powder and flush it down the sink
before quickly chucking everything else in the bin.
Eventually
the ambulance arrives and I stand back and watch them work quickly to help him.
The male paramedic looks at me.
‘Has
he taken anything?’
‘I
don’t know,’ I reply. I’m not lying, I really don’t know. I’m scared of getting
him into trouble if he hasn’t taken anything – from what I saw it didn’t look
like he had.
‘Right,
let’s move him,’ he instructs the female paramedic.
I
stand back as they carefully lift him onto the stretcher. He’s still
unconscious and his arm drops off the side. A perfectly rolled £20 note falls
out of his hand and rolls towards my feet.
The
male paramedic walks over to me and calmly asks me again, ‘Has he taken
anything? It’s important you tell me.’
‘I
really don’t know. There was some stuff at the side of the sink, I flushed it
away. Is he going to be alright?’
‘We’re
taking him to hospital, are you coming with us?’
‘Please.’
As
they wheel him out to the ambulance I look for things to take to the hospital
but I have no idea what he might need and even if I did, I’d have no idea where
any of it is.
I
grab my handbag and my keys and follow them out. The paramedics aren’t wasting
any time so I shouldn’t either.
I
hate hospitals. Just sitting here in the waiting room is making me feel sick -
something I'm sure is the exact opposite of what the hospital is supposed to
do.
I
am sitting with Frank, who is Two For The Road’s manager. I had no idea who to
call when we arrived at the hospital so I called Mick, their tour manager. He
didn’t sound half as surprised as I had expected him to, he simply put me in
touch with Frank.
I’ve
heard lots of stories about Frank but I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting
him. I was expecting a podgy, balding, grumpy old man, but I couldn’t be more
wrong. Frank is probably in his mid forties and is good looking in a George
Clooney kind of way. I remember Eddie telling me what a hard-ass he was, but he
seems genuinely concerned about Luke and he thanked me for calling the
ambulance. He is actually from Sheffield and I find his strong South Yorkshire
accent weirdly comforting.
A
nurse is walking towards us in what seems like super-slow motion, her face
expressionless. All kinds of things are running through my mind.
‘How’s
he doing?’ Frank asks.
I’m
not sure why but I get up and walk away, leaving her to talk to Frank. I mess
around with the vending machine and watch them chat from down the corridor. As
I make myself a hot chocolate that I have absolutely no intention of drinking,
Frank comes to talk to me.
‘He’s
had stitches in his head and he’s got a concussion. He’s cracked a couple of
ribs too. He’s spoken to the doctor, thinks he might have blacked out over the
sink, bashed himself up on his way to the floor.’
‘He’s
awake?’ I ask, surprised.
‘Yeah.
He’s been lucky. He’s asking for you, lass. Nurse says you can go through.’
I
glance over towards the nurse who is looking at me; she must be waiting to show
me the way.
‘Have
this.’ I thrust my watery hot chocolate into Frank’s hand.
‘Cheers,’
he says with a chuckle. He doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who drinks hot
chocolate.
I
am shown into the private room where Luke is. He is propped up slightly in his
bed and despite looking beaten up the first thing he does is smile when he sees
me.
‘Now
then,’ I say cheerily. ‘What the hell have you been getting up to? I leave you
alone for a couple of hours... There are easier ways to meet nurses you know.’
What
I actually want to do is shout and scream and swear at him for being such a
fucking idiot, but now probably isn’t the time.
‘My
hero.’ He forces a smile.