Welcome To Wherever You Are (14 page)

Sean stared wide-eyed at Tommy, who stood on his doorstep, dressed in his army green fatigues and with a large green rucksack attached to his back. As far as Sean was aware, his best friend had another fortnight left of his fourteen-week phase-one army training in Winchester before he was allowed to visit home.

‘I’ve quit,’ began Tommy, matter-of-factly.

‘But you signed a contract – doesn’t that mean you’ve gone AWOL?’

Tommy brushed off Sean’s concerns. ‘Can I come in?’

Sean ushered Tommy into the hallway, up the stairs and into his flat. Tommy unstrapped his backpack and it dropped to the floor with a heavy thump. He sank just as heavily into an armchair as Sean turned down the volume of a music channel on his satellite box.

‘Mate, you’re going to be in deep shit if you’ve run away,’ continued Sean, pensively scratching the blonde stubble on his chin.

‘I don’t care, I had to leave.’

‘Why? Were you getting bullied or something?’

‘No, they were a really great bunch of lads, surprisingly, and even the officers are pretty cool once they stop shouting at you. But I just woke up this morning knowing I’d made a massive fucking mistake.’

‘I told you this would happen,’ replied Sean, emphasising the “told you” part of his response.

‘Yeah, well, you were right.’ Sean took no comfort in Tommy’s admission and was more concerned by the ramifications of his friend’s desertion.

‘I’m supposed to give fourteen days’ notice if I want to leave before three months, or my commanding officer can give me permission to leave.’

‘And which one did you get?’

Tommy hung his head and glanced at his boots, still shining despite the seven-hour National Express bus journey and two-mile hike to Sean’s.

‘So you are AWOL, you bloody muppet! They’re going to kill you.’

‘Well let them try,’ said Tommy defiantly. ‘’Cos I’m not going back. One of the last things Lee said to me was to make a decision and go with it and to stop wasting time. I was wasting time in the army and living in that house with my parents. I need to do something with my life.’

‘I told you not to join, mate, I told you. I said you needed to go to counselling after the accident, not go to university and then drop out and then join the armed fucking forces. What you went through . . . . Jesus . . . I don’t even know where I’d begin to learn to live with that. But you are not Daniel and you are not Lee, you’re Tommy. You can’t continue what they started because that’s just not you, and running away and going to a place where they do your thinking for you isn’t going to help.’

Tommy shrugged; when they’d had this conversation months earlier, he’d known Sean was right. But his desperation to win his parents’ approval had blinded him. However, even when he’d left home for basic training, they failed to wave him off or show an ounce of pride like they had for his brothers.

‘So what are you going to do now?’ asked Sean.

‘It’s not what am
I
going to do, it’s what are
we
going to do,’ replied Tommy.

Sean grimaced. ‘Am I going to like this?’

‘You might. Do you fancy joining me on an adventure?’ Tommy smiled and hoped his friend would agree. ‘I’ve been reading this book,’ he continued as he pulled out a copy of Alex Garland’s
The Beach
from his backpack. ‘Have you read it?’

‘No, but I saw the film – Leonardo DiCaprio, yeah? Didn’t turn out too great for him, did it?’

‘Yes but you’re missing the point. Whether he found paradise or hell, at least he was out there looking for something. All we’re doing is killing time here, so let’s go and find our own beach.’

‘What, you want to go on a road trip to find a beach?’

‘Well no, I don’t mean an actual beach, but a metaphorical one. Let’s just pack up our stuff and travel the world. I’ve got some savings and that accident compensation money burning a hole in my bank account, so what could go wrong?’

Plenty, thought Sean. And eventually, he was right.

Savannah dug her false fingernails into the palm of her hands and felt them bend as she waited for the man to reply to her question.

‘Is he in LA?’ she asked, her voice beginning to crack.

‘Who?’ replied the man.

‘My father. He knows I’m in LA and that’s why you’re here.’

‘I have no idea who your father is or if he knows where you are.’

‘Then who sent you?’

‘I’m not the kind of man who can be “sent” anywhere, Savannah,’ laughed the man. ‘My name is Nicholas Van Lien. You may have heard mention of me from some of your work colleagues.’

Savannah nodded, and unclenched her balled fists. Mr Van Lien owned two of the largest gentlemen’s clubs in Los Angeles, where only the cream of the stripping crop were invited to work.

‘I’m opening a new club at the end of the year, in that building just there,’ he continued, pointing towards an empty unit across the road. ‘And I’d like you to be one of my hosts. I have seen how you work, how you interact with your customers, and you’re the kind of pretty young thing who could do well in my employment. Plus there are . . . extracurricular benefits of working for me, as you may also have heard.’

Savannah was aware of how many young actresses had earned their first big break under his wing. Or just under him, period. His discreet clubs and parties in the Hollywood Hills were a honeypot for Hollywood executives who offered bit parts to aspiring starlets in exchange for their one-on-one company.

‘I’m sorry, but no thank you,’ replied Savannah.

‘Compared to what your current employer offers, you’re working for scraps. I can guarantee you a regular salary, plus much, much more.’

‘It’s not that I don’t want to, I just can’t.’

‘Might I ask why?’

Savannah hesitated and contemplated telling him the truth. Instead, she chose to remain ambiguous. ‘I have . . . plans . . . so it’s impossible for me to commit to you. Thank you for the offer though, I appreciate it.’

‘Take my card, think about it,’ added Mr Van Lien. ‘Now may I offer you a ride home?’

‘I’m good, thank you,’ replied Savannah. She accepted his card as the door slid open and she hurried to the sidewalk.

As Mr Van Lien’s SUV pulled away, Savannah steadied herself against the wall and waited until her heartbeat slowed down to its regular pace.

TWO YEARS EARLIER – MONTGOMERY ALABAMA

Reverend Devereaux kept his sweating palms on Savannah’s shoulders as he frog-marched her through the hallway and into the kitchen, where his astonished staff watched, too afraid to intervene.

Tears burned the raw, slapped skin on Savannah’s face as her father pushed her out of the house, across the lawns where the plantations once lay, through the water sprinklers and towards a white-panelled workshop. He yanked opened the door and shoved her inside and, as she grew accustomed the gloom, she gasped when she spotted the whites of Michael’s terrified eyes. He sat with his feet and arms bound together with plastic fasteners around a wooden garden chair; a cut above his right eye bled down his face and into his torn white T-shirt.

‘Michael!’ she whispered, before the Reverend cuffed her around the back of the head. Pastor Jackson and two of her father’s burly security man flanked her boyfriend.

‘You cry for this thing?’ Reverend Devereaux asked her, scarcely believing what he was witnessing. ‘You are actually shedding
tears
for this
thing
?’

‘I love him!’ she pleaded.

‘He’s nothing – look at him! A hundred years ago and he’d be castrated and hanging from a tree for what he has done to you.’

‘But he loves me and he is a good man. Please believe me.’

‘He has no prospects, none of his kin do.’

‘He’s not what you think – he’s in medical school, he’s going to be a surgeon.’

‘I don’t care if he’s going to be the first black man on the moon, he is a black man, and black men have no place corrupting good Christian families. So let’s see how the good doctor is going to put his hands to use after I perform my own procedure.’

In the blink of Michael’s blood-soaked eye, the Reverend grabbed a wooden mallet from a workbench and smashed it against the back of Michael’s hand. He screamed as the smiling Reverend repeated the action on his other hand, this time catching the base of four fingers too.

‘No!’ Savannah pleaded to deaf ears.

‘Tell me you will never cross paths with this animal again and I will let him go while he still has his eyesight.’

Savannah attempted a reply but her throat was too dry to respond. She stared at her terrified boyfriend who was biting hard into his bottom lip to counteract the pain. Her mind raced – how could she promise never to see Michael again? But what choice did she have? She swallowed hard.

‘I won’t,’ she whispered.

‘You won’t what?’

‘I won’t see him again.’

‘Good,’ replied the Reverend, then swung the mallet and caught Michael clean in the centre of his forehead. Savannah screamed Michael’s name as he stared at her, his eyelids fluttering before snapping shut and his head falling forward.

A smile slowly crept across Reverend Devereaux’s face as he turned towards his bodyguards.

‘Get him out of here,’ he barked. ‘And lock her in her room.’

TODAY

‘My round – do you want another hot chocolate?’ asked Jake, slipping his hand into his jeans pocket and pulling out a faded canvas wallet.

Tommy took a last gulp of his drink and shook his head.

‘No, mate, I’ve got to be on the reception desk in about . . .’ he looked at his watch, ‘two hours. Shit! We’ve been here all night.’

‘I know,’ replied Jake, pointing at the window. ‘It’s getting light out there.’

They stood up and headed for the door, waving the waitress goodbye and leaving a tip on the counter.

‘Are you coming back to the hostel?’ asked Tommy.

‘No, I think I’m going to sit on the beach and watch the sun rise. I’ve seen it come up from the northern, western and southern hemispheres, but never from this far east. There’s nothing like a new sun in a new continent to start your day.’

‘Next time I’ll join you,’ replied Tommy. ‘If you fancy the company?’

‘I’ll hold you to that. And thanks for the company, it was really nice chatting to you.’

Tommy squinted at Jake. ‘You kind of remind me of someone, but I can’t work out who.’

Jake flinched, but hid it, like he’d done on three previous occasions when people had said the same thing, before he trotted out the same rehearsed response. ‘Ah, I’ve got a very generic face,’ he said, smiling, and headed towards the beach.

‘If that’s generic, then I’m a horror story,’ Tommy told himself, quietly flattered someone with such worldly experience and good looks would want to hang around with him.

DAY FOUR

It took an hour and a half before the Metro bus dropped Ruth off on Sunset Boulevard.

From behind the dusty bus window she noticed road signs for places she’d seen on television like Beverly Hills and Hollywood, but while they were in touching distance, Ruth had no interest in seeing any of them first hand. Instead, the base of the Hollywood Hills was where she wanted to be.

Almost 22,000 people lived above her in the seven square miles between the boundaries of Crescent Heights and Griffin Park. But there was only one face Ruth was there to see.

With Elastoplasts attached to the back of her heels where the stilettos had blistered them, she began her steep climb up the sidewalk towards Sunset Plaza Drive. The higher you went, the larger the properties and estates became, as if they were competing to have the most expansive city view. And if you wanted the much sought-after views from downtown to the ocean, you needed deep pockets.

Ruth glanced at her watch; it was 8 a.m., and twenty-four hours ago she’d been preparing herself to meet Zak Stanley for lunch. She couldn’t understand why Zak hadn’t turned up, and when she checked her emails in the hostel before going to bed, there’d been no communication apologising for, or explaining, his absence. It didn’t matter now, she decided, because this was going to be so much better. She was going to his home
. His actual home
. And that was so much more personal than a meal in a public restaurant could ever be.

Ruth could barely contain her excitement as she ascended the hillside, singing along to the soundtrack on her iPod of Zak’s first romcom foray,
Getting the Girl
. She was aware of the early hour, but she reasoned there was no point in hanging around the hostel any longer than necessary. She guessed Hollywood stars probably didn’t get out of bed until about midday, which would give her plenty of time to compose herself and think about what kind of things they could do together that day.