Dirty Movies (25 page)

‘Fine by me
.’

His mouth was upon hers in an instant, hot, wet and burning, shooting electric sparks through her body. As if tweaked by some unidentified string, she found her arms creeping up and around his neck as her fingers burrowing greedily into his thick, dark curls.

They broke away again and he rested his forehead against hers. She ran her hand lightly up his back and he shuddered. He moved quickly then, manipulating her body like a rag doll until it was she who was pinned against the jeep.

Polly didn’t register the sting of his stubble or the metal car door handle jabbing into her spine, she was too hooked on his fingers as they lightly grazed her thigh, teasing her hemline. His fingers continued moving upwards until she was practically screaming for him to rip the dress off right there in the car park. To hell with it, she’d buy Lucy another.

How they reached his room was a blur, but soon they were crashing through the door, tearing off espadrilles, Casio watches and silver hoop earrings and tumbling backwards onto his bed. Polly caught a glimpse of him in the soft light as he paused to yank off his t-shirt. His body was flawless, exactly how she had imagined it would be. Broad shoulders, tapered waist, more of that dark wiry fuzz that she had glimpsed in the office that first day in Morocco. He tried to say something as he leaned over her but the words caught in his throat. After that he stuck to communicating with his mouth and hands only.

They didn’t hear the knock at first
, then all of a sudden a voice started up like a noisy lawn mower at 6am on a Sunday morning, loud and familiar enough to strip the varnish from the door and intimacy from their evening.

‘Joe, open up
!’ bellowed Danny again, banging on the door. ‘Stay mad at me all you want but some package just arrived from London. It might be more rushes. I think you should take a look.’

‘Fucckkkk!’ Groaning, Joe rolled over and reached for his t-shirt.  Dressing quickly
, he bent down and kissed Polly lightly on the nose.

‘Can you make yourself scarce whilst I deal with this, sweetheart? It’ll only take a minute
, I swear.’

Polly nodded. Sl
ithering off the bed, she wrapped herself in the loose white sheet. He caught her arm as she passed and pulled her in for another kiss. She tripped over the trailing ends, giggled softly and flashed him a heart-breaking smile as she crash-landed onto his knee. It was this smile that he would play over and over in his head in the bleak months to come. 

Seeing Polly in
to the bathroom, Joe threw the counterpane across the bed and kicked her shoes under his desk.

Danny was lolling against the doorframe outside looking sheepish.

‘Joe.’

‘Danny
.’

‘Look mate, about earlier…’

‘Forget it,’ said Joe quickly. ‘Where’s this package then?’

The Irishman’s face
fell as he handed him the Fed-Ex envelope. He hadn’t meant to act like such a pig but his ego had been decimated by Polly’s rebuttals. Glancing past Joe, his expression suddenly darkened when he spotted a familiar black espadrille peeking out under his desk. At the same time, Joe glanced down at the package and recognised the writing.

‘Ok thanks
Danny. See you later,’ he muttered distractedly, slamming the door on him.

Ripping off the serrated tab
, he peered inside and pulled out a small, beige envelope and an accompanying letter embossed with expensive watermarks. 

‘What is it?’ whispered Polly
, emerging from the bathroom and hovering at the foot of the bed.

‘No idea
,’ he said, sounding very edgy and unJoe-like as he opened the letter. Moments later, it slipped from his fingers as he tore open the accompanying envelope.

‘Joe?’ she prompted hesitantly.

But he never replied. Instead, he rose to his feet and stumbled blindly for the door. Polly then watched in mounting horror as he disappeared bare-foot into the night.

‘Joe wait!’ she screamed
, throwing off the sheet and wriggling into her dress, but the delicate zip, broken in such haste earlier, stuck halfway and she couldn’t shift the bugger no matter what. Looking about wildly for an alternative, she spotted the discarded letter on the floor. Scooping it up in a trice, her eyes tore across the page.

Joe,

I can only offer my humblest apologies for the Pandora’s Box that I am about to open.  I only wish I had been strong enough to tell you the truth six years ago.

Christine

Polly shivered as the cumbrous boot of blind panic stamped all the pleasure out of her evening. What on earth had happened six years ago? And why did the penitent tone of Christine’s letter frighten her so much? A grotesque, plum-coloured dress floated before her eyes, a dress that only their daft costume designer was bonkers enough to wear. At the same time, a memory came flooding back, a memory of the night she had first learnt of Cassie’s terrible fate, a fate that had happened
six years ago
.

Moments later, with a face as pale as her discarded bed sheet, Polly and her busted dress went sprinting out after Joe.

In a lavish suite across the courtyard, Stephen popped the champagne’s cork and prepared to pour his favourite tipple all over his favourite nipples. In his opinion, the only way to
truly
appreciate champagne was to consume it from the curves of a woman’s breasts, or in this case an extremely beautiful naked A-list Actress’ breasts after some mind-blowing sex.

Relishing Maisie’s childish squeals as the golden bubbles skimmed her curves and pooled in her belly button, Stephen was just bowing his head for a
nother slurp when the sound of shouting outside murdered his mojo faster than an image of Ann Widdicombe in Spanx. Deducing that a couple of drunks must be raring up over spilt Casablancas, he bowed his head again. Either that or Vincent was having one of his cocaine-fuelled fist fights… The thought made him pause. GBA were still paying the plastic surgery bills of his last victim.

He listened again. T
he noise seemed to be gaining impetus and moving ever closer to his hotel suite. It definitely wasn’t Vincent, he decided. The bastard would have stumbled off to score another line by now. Perhaps some crazed fan was running amok, scoring autographs and playing Tin Pan Alley with the bottles behind the bar? If so, then his entire security team was for the chop. Propping himself up on one elbow, he glared at the door. At the same time, Maisie stopped writhing in ecstasy, sat bolt up right and boob-butted him in the face.

‘You stupid bitch!’ bellowed Stephen, clutching his nose as a jet of crimson shot southwards. ‘What the fuck did you do that f
or?’ Stumbling over to the full-length mirror, he gingerly inspected the damage.

‘Sorry baby
, but I simply must put my special ‘crème de la sea snail’s’ face mask on,’ she whined. ‘My dermatologist insists I get a full ten hours every night.’ As she said it, she cocked her head to one side like a poodle. ‘Say, isn’t that Joe making all that din?’

‘Couldn’t give a fuck! The Taliban could be holding a military po
w-wow down there for all I care.’  Rooting through her underwear drawer, he pulled out a pair of French knickers and clamped them to his face. He’d kill her if he had a black eye for his
Mutinous Pirates 4
premiere next week

‘But Stevie...’

‘Oh, stop badgering me, you’re worse than some Z-Lister hankering after a part.’

Even so
, the idea of the unflappable Joe in a tizz intrigued him. Since his brother’s unfortunate little hiccup in Maisie’s trailer, he had reverted straight back to his old subservient self. Still, Stephen would have to consider hiring a new whipping boy if Joe’s outbursts became something of a habit.

Throwing on his Armani Jeans,
he sauntered into the corridor outside and peered over the balustrade. Good god, Maisie was right. Three stories below, a head of familiar dark curls was pummeling through the crowds like some unruly football hooligan and heading his way.

‘What’s happening, baby?’ asked Maisie, wafting into view clutching the bottle of champers.

‘Joe’s having a flip-out, by the looks of it.’

‘Are you sure? But that’s so unlike him
.’

Stephen couldn’t agree more. With his interest now properly piqued
, he moved towards the outside staircase and began his descent, two then three steps at a time. Sidestepping the permanently waterlogged flowerbed by the swimming pool out-house, he came face to face with his brother on the edge of the patio. 

‘What the blood
y hell’s going on?’ he demanded.

At first
, Joe was so angry he couldn’t speak

‘How dare you Stephen, how fucking dare you!’

Several drunken stragglers, including two member of the props department heavy petting underneath the giant pink Begonia bush, looked over with interest. At the same time, Stephen felt the sibling balance of power tilt alarmingly in Joe’s favour.

‘I suggest you wind it in and have another drink, p
referably orange juice,’ he snapped, turning to leave, but a heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder.

‘You couldn’t help yourself
, could you?’ growled Joe, spinning him back round. ‘You ruined my marriage you bastard, you fucking destroyed us!’

A shocked silence descended over the patio and one-hit wonders
Survivor
were magnanimously silenced on the hi-fi. What a shame, thought Joe idly. It would have been rather fitting to punch his brother’s lights out to the theme from
Rocky 4
.

Meanwhile
, Stephen was gaping at him in astonishment. 

‘What the fuck are you on about?’ he spluttered
, then flinched as Joe hurled a piece of paper in his face. It landed on the waterlogged patio slab between them.

‘Cut the crap, Stephen
.’ Joe’s voice was like battery acid to a paint job. ‘This is her suicide note! Not even your crooked PR team can wriggle you out of this one.’

By now
, the costume department could have dropped a pincushion and the hotel staff would have cited noise pollution. Something major was going down and Gemma wasn’t the only crewmember slyly filming the whole thing on her iPhone.

‘Pick the letter up, Stephen.’

In a daze, the director bent down and turned it over in his hand. His face paled. It couldn’t be, he thought, panic rising up from the pit of his stomach and scorching his insides.
Oh god, it was, it was…

He glanced up then
as Joe’s right fist smashed into his face, obliterating his cheekbone and putting paid to any thoughts of an appearance at his premiere. Next, his brother’s fist connected with his nose, breaking it in two places and causing untold, mind-jolting agony. Reeling backwards, Stephen staggered into the nearest sun-lounger and collapsed onto his knees.

‘After all I’ve done for you
,’ screamed Joe, towering over him. ‘After. Every. Single. Fucking. Thing.’

‘Wait Joe, I can explain…’
He cringed as he heard himself; weedy, needling and pathetic. Names he regularly used to describe his brother.

‘Save it for your fans
, Stephen. Save it for fooling them into thinking you’re a decent guy. I, for one, have had enough of the lie.’

And with his third punch
, he knocked his brother out cold.

Not one for recriminations, no matter how justified, Joe bolted from the scene immediately. He left behind nothing more than a few lackadaisical calls for help. With crew handsets already occupied with calls of a more salacious intent, it fell upon Polly’s friend, Lucy, the only true journalist among them, to come to Stephen’s aid. She was just confirming with Khalil which prefix to use to dial the local doctor when she spotted Polly over by the BBQ. 

‘Polly!’ she cried, rushing over to her. ‘Are you ok, you look like death?’

‘Not really,’ she said, glassy-eyed and trembling, ‘everything was going great until the letter turned up, then it all fell apart like over-cooked ham. I must go after him…’

‘Polly
, love, you’re in bits. Come and sit down.’

‘I think it’s to do with Cassie
,’ she whispered, ‘but how would Stephen’s wife know anything? And why would it come out now?’

‘You’re not making any sense
. No stay here,’ commanded Lucy, plonking her down on a spare sun lounger. ‘You’re not going anywhere until I’ve pumped you full of brandy.’

Back upstairs, Joe was flipping drawers like they were pancakes and hurling belongings into his suitcase. He was in such a state he didn’t even notice Lily slipping into his room.

‘Joe, stop
,’ she pleaded softly.

He whirled round in a rage
. ‘What the hell are doing here? Get out!’

Despite his Dr Hyde transformation, she stood her ground.

‘I’m not here to pass judgment,’ she stammered, ‘I only came to see if you were ok.’

Joe turned back to his suitcase and started balling up pairs of socks and stuffing
them into his spare Converse.

She tried again. ‘Talk to
me Joe, I might be able to help.’

He gave a bark of twisted laughter. ‘I truly doubt it Lily. Not unless you have the ability to turn back the clock, deter my brother from having an affair with my wife and then talk her out of slittin
g her wrists after he dumps her.’

Lily took a step back in shock. ‘
Oh my god, you can’t be serious?’

‘
Oh, i’m serious Lily, I’m
deadly
fucking serious. I’ve spent six years wondering why she never left me a suicide note, six years of picking over every little detail in our marriage, trying to justify her reasons for condemning me to a lifetime of heart-break purgatory. Then, thirty minutes ago, one rocks up courtesy of Christine’s conscience and FedEx. Fuck knows how she got her bloody hands on it…’ All of a sudden three months of no sleep, a bloodstream pumping with beer and the turmoil of tonight hit him like diabetic sugar crash. His legs gave out and he slithered to the floor in a crumpled heap. How could Cassie have done this to him? His beautiful, beautiful Cassie?

‘It was all a lie Lily
,’ he gasped, ‘my marriage. It was nothing more than a sham.’ He put his head in his hands. ‘How could I not have known?’

‘Oh Joe…’
Lily reached for him but he shrank away. Crawling blindly towards the bed, he managed to drag himself onto the counterpane. His life was falling apart all over again. Even those wonderful moments with Polly earlier seemed so polluted. How could he profess to love her if his heart was bleeding to death over someone else?

‘Do something for me
, Lily,’ he said bleakly, as he stuffed the last of his dirty laundry into the suitcase. ‘Tell Polly i’m sorry…Sorry for not having the guts to say goodbye.’

He sounded so crushed that Lily’s eyes filled with tears.

‘But where will you go?’

‘
God knows. I just need to get as far away from here as possible.’