All That Glitters (32 page)

‘I’m only sorry my fabulous dress didn’t notice you,’ she purred effortlessly, although inside she felt sad. When he’d been in the jungle Elliot Thomas had rhapsodised about how much he loved his wife, and how he couldn’t have gone through his post-
Jubilee Crescent
blues without her support. Now though, it was like she didn’t even exist.

‘Well, allow me to introduce myself to it,’ Elliot said with a smarmy smile. ‘Or does your dress recognise me already?’

Stacey laughed out loud. ‘My dress
definitely
recognises you, Mr Thomas. How could it not?’

Elliot smiled his perfect, made-for-TV smile, and Stacey grinned back at him. She used to love watching Elliot on TV and there was no denying he was sexy, even if he was a complete arsehole.

‘Can I buy you a drink?’ Elliot asked hopefully, and Stacey shook her head.

‘I’ve got one already, thanks,’ and she turned back to the bar.

‘But you deserve so much better,’ Elliot said, and Stacey glanced at him from over her shoulder.

‘What do you mean?’ she said.

‘You deserve a drink from me.’

Stacey paused for a moment. ‘But why should you buy
me
a drink when there’s several other beautiful girls in this bar?’ she asked.

Elliot shot her his megawatt smile again and shrugged. Stacey had always thought he was good-looking – how could she not? – but in that moment she saw his mass-market appeal. He was gorgeous . . . and if this had been any other situation she’d have been excited to be talking to him. She would even have asked for his autograph.

‘Why
shouldn’t
I buy you a drink?’ he replied. ‘There’s enough of me to go around . . . and besides, don’t you want to tell your friends that Elliot Thomas chatted you up?’

If only he knew, Stacey thought.

‘You’re right,’ she said out loud, and Elliot moved his hands through his floppy blonde hair.

‘I always am. It’s why I’m a star . . . or so everyone tells me.’

‘So what brings you to London?’ Stacey asked as Elliot ordered a bottle of champagne. It was vintage and expensive, and Stacey wished she could have a sip. She needed the Dutch courage.

‘My PR set up loads of interviews with newspapers and magazines. It’s such a drag coming down here from Manchester, but people want to know all about me,’ Elliot said with a weariness that Stacey could tell was false.

‘Wow,’ she said. ‘That’s amazing.’

‘Yeah,’ Elliot sighed. ‘But it’s so tiring being fawned over all the time. One journalist even made a pass at me. But she wasn’t my type.’

‘And what’s your type?’ Stacey asked lightly.

‘I’m looking at her.’

Stacey smiled at Elliot, and as he led her over to a private corner of the bar, she felt a tiny jolt of excitement. He was hooked.

Stacey stared down at the intoxicated TV actor who was dribbling in her lap and sighed.

For the last three hours she’d listened to Elliot tell his life story, and time had passed incredibly slowly. She didn’t think it was possible for anyone to believe his or her own hype, but Elliot Thomas had proved her wrong. He’d just been explaining how he was thinking of going to Hollywood to become a world-famous star when the copious amount of alcohol he’d drunk kicked in. Suddenly he turned from a standard-issue egotist into someone narcissistic and needy.

‘You’re amazing,’ Elliot mumbled into Stacey’s lap, and she reached out to stroke his hair. When they’d realised that Elliot only had eyes for Stacey, the majority of girls in the bar had left in a huff, and only the hardcore drinkers remained. The night was definitely reaching its end.

‘No, you’re amazing,’ Stacey said in a breathy voice. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as inspirational as you. You have no idea.’

‘No,
you
have no idea,’ Elliot slurred. ‘You’re really,
really
amazing. The most amazingist.’

Stacey laughed. ‘And you haven’t even seen what I can
really
do,’ she said flirtatiously, and Elliot sat up. He swayed ever so slightly, and Stacey put her arm around him to keep him still. He didn’t even notice.

‘Oh yeah?’ he said. He could barely focus on her, and Stacey realised that if she’d really planned to seduce him, he wouldn’t be able to perform. He could hardly keep his eyes open.

‘Yeah,’ she whispered in his ear. ‘And as well as being amazing, I can’t fucking keep my hands off you.’

‘I can’t keep my hands off
you
!’ Elliot exclaimed. ‘It’s a sign!’

‘It really is,’ Stacey murmured. ‘I have a room here . . .’

‘I have a suite here!’ Elliot said. ‘It’s a sign!’

Stacey counted to ten. He was one of
those
drunks, then. ‘It
is
a sign,’ she repeated. ‘But Elliot, we should go to my room.’

‘Why?’ he asked petulantly.

Stacey thought hard. ‘So I can slip into something a little more comfortable,’ she said eventually. ‘And I have a present for you, too.’

‘I like presents!’ Elliot announced, and it took all of Stacey’s strength not to roll her eyes. ‘And I like you. You seem to understand me. Not many people do . . .’ His voice trailed off, and Stacey realized that she was seeing the real Elliot Thomas – the insecure, unsure actor who was boosted by other people’s interest and didn’t feel like he was anyone when he wasn’t the centre of attention.

‘You don’t feel like anyone understands you?’ she asked softly, and Elliot shook his head.

‘The only person who really understands me is my wife,’ Elliot mumbled. ‘But since I came out of the jungle she doesn’t seem to even like me very much. She doesn’t want to come to London with me, she doesn’t want to leave her job to come to America with me.’ His blue eyes focused for a second and his gaze held hers. ‘I love her, but I’m lonely. I’m so lonely.’

Stacey led Elliot from the bar towards the lift and as she propped the actor up she noticed some of Johnny and Sancho’s men watching her carefully. She could see the small cameras with long lenses they held in their hands, but if she hadn’t known to look for them, she’d never have noticed them at all. Stacey knew they were taking their photos, but there was no noise, no camera flashes – nothing.

‘But
you
seem to understand me,’ Elliot slurred as they walked towards the lift. ‘I could probably fall in love with you and
you
could be my wife!’ He dropped to his knees and clasped his arms around her legs. ‘Will you marry me?’

Stacey left Elliot on the floor for a few seconds – it was one of those picture-perfect moments Sancho had encouraged her to get – and then tried to lift Elliot up, but he was too heavy. ‘I’ll do anything you like if you’ll accompany me to my room, darling,’ she said as tenderly as she could. She hated the idea of Elliot’s drunken body crashing into her pregnant body and she wanted him to stop hanging off her.

‘I’ll try,’ he whimpered, and after several attempts he managed to stand. ‘Let’s go up to your room,’ Elliot declared, and as Stacey caught a brief nod from one of the photographers, she grimaced. Mission accomplished.

‘So these are the shots I managed to get of Sancho and Johnny’s photographers,’ Adam Russell explained as he lay out a selection of glossy, full-colour prints on Ella and Chastity’s orange dining table. Everyone was there – Ella, Chastity, Stacey and Nash – and as they gazed at the photos they all agreed each was perfect. Adam had managed to get the photographers in every shot, and you could clearly see them pointing their cameras at Stacey and Elliot. The paparazzi had been papped, and they’d been so caught up in their work that they hadn’t even noticed.

‘These are brilliant,’ Chastity said in awe. ‘You captured the moment perfectly.’

Adam Russell fixed his dark brown eyes on Chastity for a moment longer than necessary and then smiled back. ‘Well, you guys told me what I had to do, and I did it. That’s my job.’

‘And Stacey, you look great,’ Ella added. She still couldn’t quite get her head around the circumstances – that her step-sister was in a
situation
with Elliot Thomas. And that she was wearing Jean Paul Gaultier. In the May Fair Hotel. The whole thing just felt completely surreal if she thought about it too much.

‘Thanks.’ Stacey yawned. ‘I have to say, when the night was over I didn’t feel too great. I was exhausted from having to talk to Elliot all night. He’s one of those men who loves the sound of his own voice . . . but underneath it all he’s just really insecure and wants to be looked after.’

‘But what happened when you made it up to your room?’ Ella asked curiously.

‘God, nothing happened – and nothing would have. I’m engaged, remember?’

Ella grinned. ‘And pregnant. But thank God for your attractive pregnancy breasts, huh?’

‘Hey! He fell for my personality, I’ll have you know.’

‘Erm, wasn’t it your hair he was into?’ Chastity interjected, and Stacey rolled her eyes.

‘Anyway, as soon as he danced over to the bed – that’s right, he
danced
– he fell onto it. He mumbled something about how he’s never cheated on his wife before – and I believed him, he was really awkward with me – but before I could say we didn’t have to do anything he was out cold. I changed out of that beautiful dress into my jeans, paid for the room, told the staff to keep an eye on him because he was so wasted, and got a cab back here. He probably woke up wondering why his suite had shrunk into a normal room.’

Chastity laughed slightly louder than necessary, and Ella noticed her eyes were still on Adam Russell, who was gazing back at her. He seemed mesmerised.

‘I almost feel sorry for him,’ Nash said, before bringing the conversation back to business. ‘But now that you have these photos what are you going to do with them? Whatever you decide to do, you have to do it soon – before Sancho puts his story about Elliot Thomas having an affair on his site. And Stacey needs to fill her boyfriend in on everything too – just in case he gets the wrong end of the stick.’

Everyone turned to look at Ella, who bit her lip. ‘Nash, what do you suggest?’ she said. She knew they had great ammunition – when you put the photos with the recording Stacey had made there was no denying what Johnny and Sancho were up to – but she wasn’t sure what they could do with it.

Nash thought for a moment. ‘You could confront Sancho and Johnny and tell them that you know about their kiss-and-tell scam,’ he said. ‘But I’m not sure what good that will do you in the long run. It probably wouldn’t stop them from doing it again to someone else, and to be honest, they probably wouldn’t even care that you know.’

‘Why wouldn’t they care?’ Ella said quietly. She felt like the wind had been taken out of her. Okay, so she’d only gone into this wanting to know why Johnny hadn’t ever returned her calls, but now she knew what they were up to, she wanted to do the right thing.

Nash sighed, and Ella noticed he looked tired. He’d been putting every hour he could into his new business, and on top of that he never failed to be there for her when she needed it. At that moment Ella resolved to look after Nash as much as he’d looked after her. ‘Because they don’t care what you think of them,’ he said reluctantly. ‘They think you’re a stupid WAG who could never hurt them.’

Ella thought about how Sancho had blackmailed Danny for years, and how Johnny had made her fall in love again, only to toss her aside once he’d got what he was after. In a twisted way she was grateful to him – she’d been adamant that she was never going to give her heart to anyone, and Johnny had broken down those walls – but she mostly hated Johnny, and despised both of them. Sancho had milked Danny for all he could, and then to make even more money they’d played with her emotions and ruined her life.

And they didn’t even care.

‘I’m going to phone the
Sunday Times
,’ Ella announced calmly, as she pictured the journalist who had done that profile of her. It felt like it was a lifetime ago, but it was time for everyone to know who Ella Aldridge really was, and just what she was capable of.

‘I’m going to tell them exactly what Johnny and Sancho did to me, and I’m going to expose their little moneymaking scheme so they can never do it to anyone else ever again.’

‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ Chastity asked, as she put her hand over Ella’s fist. ‘There’s probably another way – we just have to put our heads together.’

Ella smiled. ‘Sancho and Johnny think it’s okay to ruin people’s lives by setting them up and taking photos of them, so I think it’s only fair that we do the same to them,’ she said in determination. ‘We’ve played them at their own game, and now we’re going to win.’

When the news broke it was everywhere.

The
Sunday Times
ran eight pages about the scam, and suddenly Johnny Cooper was thrust back into the spotlight. This time, he wasn’t being applauded for managing to have an affair with Ella Riding; he was being derided, and in a matter of minutes he’d gone from the golden boy of television to public enemy number one.

Before Ella did her interview with the paper she was nervous. She’d spent such a long time avoiding the press that willingly going to them and putting herself in the limelight felt like the antithesis of everything she’d worked for. But with Nash’s support she went to the
Sunday Times
and told them everything she knew. At first they were sceptical – Ella Riding was a wannabe, wasn’t she? And wasn’t she just trying to get even with a man who’d loved and dumped her? – but when she produced Stacey’s tapes and the photos Adam had taken, the journalists began to believe her. With a bit of digging the paper had uncovered the true story, and when they told Ella what they’d uncovered she was left stunned. She’d been a pawn in a dirty game, only this pawn had turned around and fought the kings.

It turned out that Johnny and Sancho weren’t just friends, they were also cousins, and their relationship had been cemented when they were both sent to the same boarding school by parents who’d never had much time for them.

Sancho – or Steven, as he’d been known then – had spent years desperately trying to be a showbiz journalist, but he was essentially lazy, and couldn’t be bothered to put the work in. He’d thought access to celebrities – and the parties they attended – should be his fundamental right, and after time and persistence he got to know the right people and began to mix in showbiz circles, telling everyone he was a blogger who would eventually rival Perez Hilton.