Baby Be Mine (25 page)

‘Oh.’ A lump forms in my throat and I try to swallow it. He is serious about her. Scarily serious. ‘When will you leave?’

‘As soon as Lena can organise a car and ticket. Today.’

‘We’ve got a car,’ I say, confused. It’s sitting out there on the driveway, a nice little BMW lent to us by a dealer.

‘I’m not going to take that from you,’ he says, frowning.

‘I don’t want to stay here without you,’ I reply automatically.

His brow furrows. ‘Really?’ He’s surprised and I wish I hadn’t revealed that.

‘We’ll go back to France,’ I say.

He regards me for a moment before speaking. ‘Okay. I’ll ask Lena to sort it.’

‘Thanks.’ I go to get up, but he grabs my wrist and pulls me back down again.

‘Meg . . .’ he says.

‘Yes?’

He pauses for a moment, as if an idea has just struck him and he’s unsure about whether or not to go on.

‘Tell me,’ I press him, curious now.

His words come out in a rush. ‘Come back to LA with me.’

‘What?’

‘You and Barney. Come back to LA with me.’ He sits up with excitement, running with the idea now. ‘You could have your own rooms, you’d have your own life, but I’d get to see him every day. He would
know
me.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘I’m not.’ He shakes his head fervently.

‘What about my parents? They haven’t exactly enjoyed reading about you in the papers, recently.’

‘Yeah, but surely they still want what’s best for Barney.’

‘You think this is what’s best for Barney?’

‘Yes. I do, actually. He’s my son. I’m his dad. He should be with me.’

I take a gulp of air. ‘What about Dana?’

‘What about her?’

‘Don’t you think you should talk to her about this?’

‘How do you know I haven’t?’

‘Have you?’

Pause. ‘No.’

I look at him sadly. ‘I can’t, Johnny.’

He takes my hands and stares into my eyes, pleading with me. ‘Yes, you can.’

I detach my hands. ‘No, I can’t, Johnny. I can’t go back there again.’

‘It wouldn’t be the same as before,’ he tries to reason with me.

‘How do you know? It might be even worse, with you two getting off your heads on drugs . . . I can’t put Barney into a situation like that.’

‘I won’t relapse again. I promise you.’

‘I thought addicts weren’t supposed to make promises like that.’

He shakes his head. ‘How did you get to be so smart?’

‘I’m not smart. Just one look at my crazy, fucked-up life should tell you that.’

‘Language . . .’

We smile at each other sadly.

‘You’re not fucked-up, Meg. It’s time to move on. You’ve got a son, an amazing son.
I’ve
got an amazing son. I don’t want to be a peripheral part of his life – I want to mean something to him. I want him to call me “Dad”. I want the world to know he’s mine. Not yet,’ he says hurriedly. ‘We need space first without the press harassing us.’

I shake my head and look away. ‘No. Just you saying that reminds me of how it is.’ I still remember being hounded by the paparazzi one time when I drove Johnny’s Porsche and they thought I was him. ‘I don’t want that for Barney,’ I add.

‘You don’t have a choice. The press are going to find out about him sometime, whether you like it or not,’ he states. ‘At least in LA you’d both have protection; you know my security guys are some of the best in the business. Wouldn’t it be better for Barney to grow up with this life from the start, so he doesn’t know any different? Wouldn’t that be better than him getting thrown in at the deep end when he’s older?’

‘Like me?’ I say with a wry smile.

He mirrors my expression. ‘Think about it. Please, Meg.’ I notice he’s not calling me Nutmeg. He must be serious. ‘Just think about it.’

  Chapter 27  

‘It is so good to see you again, Miss Stiles.’

I smile ahead at the driver, who’s grinning back at me in his rear-view mirror. ‘It’s good to see you too, Davey.’

‘I don’t know, I just had a feeling about you, that something was different. I see now that I was right!’ he exclaims, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder at Barney, who is strapped into a brand-new and very smart car seat.

I shrug, embarrassed. ‘What can I say?’

He chuckles with amusement and shakes his head. I peer out of my window at the skinny-as-a-beanpole palm trees towering overhead. The sun beats down from a hazy blue sky. I’m thankful for the air-conditioning in the limo. Even in October, LA is warm and muggy.

Did I just say LA? That’s where we are: the City of Angels. My head is still spinning about the fact that I agreed to Johnny’s crazy suggestion.

My parents weren’t too pleased about it. It took only a few hours of being back in Grasse with them for me to make up my mind, and once that was done, there was no turning back. They’ve accepted it now. But they did make me promise I would tell Susan and Tony the real reason behind Johnny’s visit back in August. I still haven’t got around to it.

Davey drives through the gates into Bel Air, past Elvis’s old house and countless other mansions belonging to the rich and famous. We climb upwards into the hills – the journey taking longer than I remember from when I used to live here – and then we reach some imposing wooden gates, equipped with intimidating security cameras. Davey speaks into the intercom and the gates slowly open, then it’s along a winding driveway until, finally, there’s a break in the trees and there, in front of us, is Johnny’s house.

I stare out at the modern, white concrete, two-storey architectural masterpiece and feel slightly breathless.

I flashback to the first time I was here . . . The enormous front door swung open to reveal a short, plump, pleasantly smiling Hispanic-looking woman. Rosa. It’s not going to be the same here without her.

Davey takes me to the front door with our suitcases and presses the buzzer. As butterflies swarm around my stomach I realise I feel almost as nervous as I did three years ago. Who’s going to open the door? The new cook? Lena? Dana? I hope not Dana – I’m not ready for that yet. I jig Barney up and down in my arms and try to channel my nerves into excitement. It doesn’t work.

There’s a click behind the door and it starts to open. I’m holding my breath, and then suddenly I’m face to face with Johnny and my face breaks into a smile.

‘Hey!’ he exclaims, patting me with affection on my back and then opening his arms to Barney. I pass him over, stupidly delighted that he’s here to welcome us. I feel like I need familiar right now. ‘You can put those up in her room,’ Johnny says to Davey, leading the way inside. He’s wearing a long-sleeved white shirt with dark-grey Bermuda shorts and bare feet.

I follow him into the living room and halt in my tracks, even though I’ve seen this view hundreds of times. Floor-to-ceiling windows look out onto the city of LA in the distance, and before that is a beautiful infinity pool, far more spectacular than the one in Barcelona with Bess.

Aah, Bess. She went nuts when I told her. We spoke on the phone last week . . .

‘How are you?’

‘Pretty damn good,’ I replied with a smile.

‘What’s happened?’ she asked drily.

‘Johnny’s asked us to go to LA with him.’

‘WHAT?’

‘Not like that, you ninny,’ I said flippantly. ‘As friends. As the mother of his child. He wants to spend more time with Barney and I just thought, why the hell not?’

‘I’ll tell you why not.’ She cut straight to the chase. ‘Because you fell madly in love with him and went to hell and back!’

‘That’s not going to happen again,’ I said patiently.

‘How on earth would you know?’ she exclaimed.

‘Because I’m different now. I won’t let myself get into a situation like that ever again.’

‘It’s not up to you!’ she squawked. ‘It’s up to your bloody heart! That’s the problem.’

Anyway . . . She’ll get over it.

‘Where’s Dana?’ I ask.

‘She’s coming over this afty. Giving you time to settle in before she descends.’ He winks at me.

I force a smile. ‘How is she?’

‘Fine,’ he says with a shrug.

‘Did she relapse?’

‘Nah.’ He shakes his head. ‘Relax, babe,’ he says annoyingly.

‘Don’t call me babe.’

‘Don’t call me babe, don’t call me Nutmeg . . .’ he teases in a sing-song voice. ‘Jesus, what can I call you?’

‘Meg would be a good start. Mummy will also do.’ I try to keep a straight face as I look at Barney in his arms.

‘Hello!’

At the sound of a voice, I turn around to see a tall, tanned woman with dark blonde hair coming into the living room from the direction of the office.

‘Aah, Lena,’ Johnny says. ‘Come and meet Meg.’

‘We meet at last,’ she says with a smile, walking towards me with her hand extended. She has an accent. I think I remember Christian once saying she was from Holland.

‘Hi!’ I falter before smiling back and shaking her hand. She’s unnervingly stunning. Her eyes are green, almost as green as Johnny’s, and her hair is straight and falls to just below her chin. She’s taller than me – I would guess five foot nine without her heels on – and she looks like she’s in her late twenties, early thirties. She actually resembles Johnny in an uncanny way – she could almost be his sister.

‘I can’t believe you’re finally here!’ She smiles warmly and folds her arms in front of herself, casually rocking back on her heels.

‘Neither can I,’ I reply, shifting from foot to foot. She seems nice, even if she is far too beautiful to be human.

‘And
you
must be Barney!’ She reaches over and pinches one of his chubby cheeks between her thumb and forefinger. He smiles back at her before holding his arms out to me. I take him from Johnny and he nestles into my neck, shyly, before peeking back out at her again.

‘We have
lots
to talk about,’ she says to me. ‘But right now I imagine you just want to sit down with a – what do they say in England? A cuppa!’

I laugh. ‘Actually, that’d be great. Still no cook?’

‘No. In fact,’ she turns to Johnny, ‘I must talk to you about that.’

‘Later, Lennie,’ he replies.

She crossly wags her finger in his face. ‘I mean it, Johnny, if you keep calling me that I’ll quit.’

‘You won’t quit,’ he replies with amusement.

‘Why are you so sure?’ she snaps.

‘You like me too much.’ He grins and leans against the back of the sofa.

‘Argh!’ she cries with frustration before storming off to the kitchen, which is behind a curved, frosted-glass wall.

I give Johnny an inquisitive look. ‘I thought you told me you didn’t give her a nickname because her husband wouldn’t approve.’

‘I didn’t say husband,’ he replies with a smirk.

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘I’M GAY!’ Lena shouts from the kitchen.

I look at Johnny with widened eyes. ‘Seriously?’ I mouth.

‘I CAN HEAR YOU!’ Lena shouts again.

‘She didn’t say anything!’ Johnny exclaims with mock outrage.

Lena appears at the door of the kitchen with a mug in one hand and a carton of milk in the other.

‘I know what you’re saying,’ she says through narrowed eyes, brandishing the milk at us.

‘Did Johnny know you were gay when he hired you?’ I ask.

Johnny gives me a wry look. Lena smirks. ‘No.’

‘No, I didn’t think so,’ I reply, giggling. Lena’s face breaks into a smile. ‘I like her,’ she says to Johnny.

‘Oi,’ he warns. ‘Don’t get any ideas.’

I grin at Johnny. I thought she was nice before, but on this evidence, I think we could actually become friends.

A few minutes later, Lena returns to the sofas with a tray laden with cups and snacks.

‘These are new.’ I reach back to stroke my hand across the dark-brown leather. Johnny had sofas before, but these are enormous and form a long V-shape facing the windows, so everywhere you sit you’re faced with a view of the city and pool.

‘Barney, come back here,’ I say as he starts to climb along one of them.

‘He’s fine, man, he’s fine,’ Johnny brushes me off.

‘Let me take off his shoes.’

‘He’s fine, Meg,’ Johnny reiterates, helping Barney climb over his lap.

‘Johnny thought this place could do with cosying up,’ Lena says with a knowing look at Barney.