stuff.’
‘No thank you. I don’t—’
Rupert put his finger in the residue Michael had left behind and rubbed it on his gums. ‘Come on, babe. It’s just a little charlie.’
Councillor Bedford’s eyes were like saucers. ‘I’ve always wanted to try this stuff. How do you do it?’
Rupert showed him.
As the drug took effect, Bedford’s pupils dilated and his manner towards Brooke became more bold. ‘I must say,’ he smirked, his eyes brazenly roving over her curves, ‘This is what I call a nice bonus.’
Brooke’s brain was spinning. How had she got into this situation? She felt a hand caressing her bottom. Rupert was behind her, whispering in her ear: ‘Why don’t we go to your bedroom? The others are happy here. Unless you’d like them to watch?’
He slid his arm round her waist and she felt his breath and hot tongue in her ear.
There was a knock at the door.
‘That’s room service.’ He let her go and she ran to the door. Toby and Marc were there, pushing a huge trolley loaded with six bottles of champagne in a wine cooler and a big bottle of brandy.
‘Have you got a phone on you?’ she asked in a desperate whisper.
‘Yeah,’ said Toby.
‘Give it to me.’ She took the phone and quickly turned around, thrusting the phone towards the table, capturing the lines of coke on the coffee table, the bottles of booze, and the look of stunned shock on the three men’s faces.
Marc threw his hands up in horror. ‘Oh my God! It’s a drugs den!’
Milo ran towards Brooke. ‘Give me that phone, you stupid bitch!’
But Brooke was too fast for him. She ran out of the door and into the hallway screaming, ‘Help! Police! Help!’
Toby and Marc abandoned the trolley and ran hell for leather down the corridor after her, bundling her into the service lift and taking her down to the sanctuary of the kitchen.
For a second or two they stood in silence, panting and wild-eyed, grateful to be out of that room. Then Marc grinned at her and said, ‘You can’t half shift in those heels, girlfriend. I’m proud of you!’
10
T he taxi pulled up outside Ryan and Jess’s flat. The street looked dull and drab after the brightly garish colours of Thailand. The dark and threatening clouds above were only highlighted by the steel grey of the sky. As Ryan paid the cab driver, and signed an autograph for the cabbie’s wife, Jess stood on the damp pavement and looked up at the windows of their top-floor flat. She’d soon be alone again. Ryan was off filming in two days’ time. The carefree relaxed mood of her holiday was dissolving like an aspirin in water, yet without the benefits of analgesia.
She had asked Ryan, as they’d sat by the pool in Thailand one day, if he thought she might be depressed.
He’d looked at her in surprise, then told her to pull herself together; she didn’t have a mental illness, all she needed was to get a job under her belt. When she pointed out that it wasn’t that easy and started to list the humiliating auditions she’d endured of late, his response had been to suggest that she give up acting and try something else.
‘You’re a jolly good organiser,’ he told her. ‘You’d make an excellent school secretary.’
‘Like your mother?’
‘Yes. Like my mother. She was always home in time to cook supper for me and Dad, plus she had all those long holidays.’ He’d smiled and kissed her. ‘It would suit you very well.’
‘So you don’t think I’ve got what it takes to make it as an actress?’
‘Hey, babe, it’s not that.’ Ryan put his arm around her and gave her shoulder a squeeze. ‘It’s just that this business is really tough and I don’t want to see you brought down by it.’
Despite the many hours she’d spent torturing herself with the notion that she was a failure as an actress, this unexpected career advice had knocked her sideways. She’d wanted to be an actress ever since she could remember. If that was taken from her, what did she have
‘No thank you. I don’t—’
Rupert put his finger in the residue Michael had left behind and rubbed it on his gums. ‘Come on, babe. It’s just a little charlie.’
Councillor Bedford’s eyes were like saucers. ‘I’ve always wanted to try this stuff. How do you do it?’
Rupert showed him.
As the drug took effect, Bedford’s pupils dilated and his manner towards Brooke became more bold. ‘I must say,’ he smirked, his eyes brazenly roving over her curves, ‘This is what I call a nice bonus.’
Brooke’s brain was spinning. How had she got into this situation? She felt a hand caressing her bottom. Rupert was behind her, whispering in her ear: ‘Why don’t we go to your bedroom? The others are happy here. Unless you’d like them to watch?’
He slid his arm round her waist and she felt his breath and hot tongue in her ear.
There was a knock at the door.
‘That’s room service.’ He let her go and she ran to the door. Toby and Marc were there, pushing a huge trolley loaded with six bottles of champagne in a wine cooler and a big bottle of brandy.
‘Have you got a phone on you?’ she asked in a desperate whisper.
‘Yeah,’ said Toby.
‘Give it to me.’ She took the phone and quickly turned around, thrusting the phone towards the table, capturing the lines of coke on the coffee table, the bottles of booze, and the look of stunned shock on the three men’s faces.
Marc threw his hands up in horror. ‘Oh my God! It’s a drugs den!’
Milo ran towards Brooke. ‘Give me that phone, you stupid bitch!’
But Brooke was too fast for him. She ran out of the door and into the hallway screaming, ‘Help! Police! Help!’
Toby and Marc abandoned the trolley and ran hell for leather down the corridor after her, bundling her into the service lift and taking her down to the sanctuary of the kitchen.
For a second or two they stood in silence, panting and wild-eyed, grateful to be out of that room. Then Marc grinned at her and said, ‘You can’t half shift in those heels, girlfriend. I’m proud of you!’
10
T he taxi pulled up outside Ryan and Jess’s flat. The street looked dull and drab after the brightly garish colours of Thailand. The dark and threatening clouds above were only highlighted by the steel grey of the sky. As Ryan paid the cab driver, and signed an autograph for the cabbie’s wife, Jess stood on the damp pavement and looked up at the windows of their top-floor flat. She’d soon be alone again. Ryan was off filming in two days’ time. The carefree relaxed mood of her holiday was dissolving like an aspirin in water, yet without the benefits of analgesia.
She had asked Ryan, as they’d sat by the pool in Thailand one day, if he thought she might be depressed.
He’d looked at her in surprise, then told her to pull herself together; she didn’t have a mental illness, all she needed was to get a job under her belt. When she pointed out that it wasn’t that easy and started to list the humiliating auditions she’d endured of late, his response had been to suggest that she give up acting and try something else.
‘You’re a jolly good organiser,’ he told her. ‘You’d make an excellent school secretary.’
‘Like your mother?’
‘Yes. Like my mother. She was always home in time to cook supper for me and Dad, plus she had all those long holidays.’ He’d smiled and kissed her. ‘It would suit you very well.’
‘So you don’t think I’ve got what it takes to make it as an actress?’
‘Hey, babe, it’s not that.’ Ryan put his arm around her and gave her shoulder a squeeze. ‘It’s just that this business is really tough and I don’t want to see you brought down by it.’
Despite the many hours she’d spent torturing herself with the notion that she was a failure as an actress, this unexpected career advice had knocked her sideways. She’d wanted to be an actress ever since she could remember. If that was taken from her, what did she have
Similar Books
