Friends & Rivals (22 page)

‘This is a bit more important than a fucking holiday,' said Ivan, somewhat tactlessly. ‘This is my family.'

‘Oh really. And what the hell am I, may I ask? A cheese sandwich? Fuck you, Ivan.'

Kendall got up unsteadily, weaving her way towards the corridor.

‘Kendall. Come on. I didn't mean it like that. He's my son, that's all. It's not easy being told I'm not wanted at my own son's court hearing.' Ivan reached out a hand to stop her going but she shrugged him angrily away.

‘You can sleep in the fucking spare room,' she shouted over her shoulder, staggering into the bedroom and slamming the door shut behind her.

Ivan considered going in after her. That was clearly what he was supposed to do. But the thought of another hour's drunken arguing followed by gruelling make-up sex was more than he could bear. He was also genuinely distressed about Hector and felt awful for having taken the best part of a day to return Catriona's calls. The poor thing must have been out of her mind with worry.

Too tired even to feel depressed, he went into the spare bedroom and flopped down on the bed, fully clothed. Seconds later, he was asleep.

He was woken by bright sunlight from a chink in the curtains falling across his face. The bedside clock said 9.15 a.m. He'd been asleep for nine hours, the longest unbroken stretch he'd had in months, and felt groggy and heavy limbed. Slowly, the events of last night reasserted themselves. The triumphant dinner with Ava Bentley's family, Kendall's sexiness, the news about Hector and Kendall's subsequent tantrum.

Last night he'd been too exhausted to deal with her. This morning he was too angry. What the hell did she want from him, anyway? He loved her, he bloody worshipped the girl, but his thirteen-year-old son had just spent the night in a jail cell and all Kendall wanted to talk about was mini-breaks.

The master bedroom door was still firmly closed when Ivan went for his shower, and remained so while he dressed and put a pot of coffee on to brew. Firing up his MacBook he sent six emails, one to Don Peters, one to the office manager at Jester, three to clients with whom he had meetings scheduled, and one to Ava, warning them all that he had a ‘family crisis' to deal with today so his schedule might be a bit out of whack. Even if he wasn't wanted in person, he reasoned, Cat might want his help dealing with lawyers over the phone or paying any fines Hector might have racked up through his stupidity. Having pressed send, and eaten two slices of Marmite toast washed down with strong Colombian roast, he was about to leave a note for Kendall and head out the door when he relented. A note looked a bit cold, especially after such a big fight. He should talk to her. Steeling himself for rejection, he knocked on the bedroom door.

‘Kendall? Baby?'

No answer.

‘Come on, Kendall, we need to talk. I have to go to work in a minute and I don't want to leave things like this.'

Still nothing. He tried the door, expecting to find it locked, but it opened to reveal a room flooded with sunlight. Propped up against the pillows was an envelope. Ivan opened it and read the single-line note inside.

‘Gone back to LA. Don't call. K.'

Kendall felt a rush of excitement and happiness as her plane touched down at LAX. When she'd walked out of the Cheyne Walk apartment at the crack of dawn this morning, she hadn't known herself whether she'd actually have the balls to go through with it. Flouncing off to The Dorchester was one thing, but disappearing to LA, running out not just on Ivan, but on her Polydor work commitments, was a big step. But here she was, gazing out of the window at palm trees and traffic through a shimmering heat haze, as if she'd never been away.

Over the course of the eleven-hour flight, in between sleeping off her hangover and gorging herself on warm milk and cookies, Kendall had rationalized her decision. It was an impromptu vacation, that was all. She didn't intend to stay long, just long enough to shake Ivan out of his complacency and help crystallize his thinking as to who was the priority in his life: Ava Bentley, his ex-wife or her. If Polydor kicked up a fuss about it, she could always tell them she was going into the recording studio here, or working on her vocals with her old coach, Maria Atavista, a legend in the industry. It wasn't as if she had any live dates she was missing, and none of the PR stuff for the next two weeks could be considered crucial.

Obviously last night's showdown with Ivan had been the catalyst. But her conversation with Stella Bayley had also brought it home to her just how much she was missing the States. It was the little things she missed most – Access Hollywood at seven o'clock, Maroon 5 on the car radio, In-N-Out Burgers and Cheetos and real mac and cheese, the processed stuff that glowed the same neon yellow as SpongeBob Square Pants. Her life in London was luxurious and privileged and exclusive, but Kendall had never taken to British culture the way that Stella had. She still felt like a rarefied fish out of water.

At Immigration, when the officer smiled and said, ‘Welcome home', it was all Kendall could do not to kiss him. Picking up her Louis Vuitton case, she sailed through Customs on a wave of happiness and went straight to the Olympic Cars desk, where she picked up her pre-reserved Aston Martin V12. The car was gleaming black with a cream interior and mocha coffee trim, and just sitting behind the wheel made Kendall feel like a million dollars, the conquering heroine returning in glory after two long years of battle. Even the inevitable 405 traffic couldn't dampen her spirits. Crawling towards Beverly Hills, listening to Ryan Seacrest on
Kiss
, she drank in every moment, every sight and sound of the city and the life she'd left behind.

She deliberately hadn't booked a hotel. She figured she'd surprise everyone at home and show up unannounced – bearing gifts, of course. Her first stop was Neiman Marcus in Beverly Hills to pick up something teenage and cool for Holly and Joe, her younger half-siblings, and a suitably statement-like designer purse for her mom. If there was one thing guaranteed to soften Lorna Bryce's heart, it was a Balenciaga tote although, come to think of it, she probably had the entire fall collection by now. Not without a pang of guilt, Kendall tried to work out how old the twins would be by now. Seventeen? Eighteen? Although she'd called occasionally and sent Christmas gifts, she hadn't actually laid eyes on either of them for over two years.

After three hours of shopping, and a stop for a mouth-watering Pinkberry frozen yoghurt, where she was gratifyingly snapped by at least four paparazzi, jet lag finally began to catch up with her. Driving the short route to her mother's house on North Canon Drive, Kendall found herself fantasizing about her childhood bed, sinking into those soft pillows surrounded by all her old soft toys. It was all she could do to keep her eyes open, but at last she came to the familiar cedar-wood gates and typed in the old code.

Nothing happened. For one awful, sinking moment it occurred to Kendall that Lorna might have moved house.
Surely she wouldn't do a thing like that without telling me?
But then the familiar, gravelly voice of Pepe, the groundsman, crackled over the intercom.

‘Can I help you?'

‘Pepe, it's me, Kendall. There's something wrong with the gate, the pass-code's not working.'

There was a short silence. Then the gravelly voice said, ‘Wind down your window please. Look at the camera.'

‘What?' said Kendall, irritated. Pepe didn't remember her fucking voice? But she did as she was asked, removing her sunglasses to stare up at the swivelling CCTV above the gate. A few seconds later, it dutifully swung open and Kendall drove into the paved forecourt.

OK, so it wasn't quite the warm welcome for the prodigal daughter returned that she'd been hoping for. None of the staff rushed out to greet her, and the boy who appeared to help her with her suitcase was new. But she refused to allow her spirits to be dampened. Clutching her beautifully wrapped peace offerings, she rang the bell.

‘Miss Kendall!' The tiny Mexican housemaid looked suitably shocked.
At least Elena remembers me.
‘What are you doing here?'

‘Just visiting,' said Kendall. ‘It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. Where's Mom?'

At that moment Lorna Bryce emerged from the kitchen. The first thing Kendall thought was how much she'd aged. The peach Juicy sweatpants and Stella McCartney vest that had long been her casual uniform looked ridiculous on her now, clothes for a much younger woman. Despite the Botox and highlights, Lorna's face was mottled with sun-damage and the skin on her forearms wrapped the bones like crêpe paper. It hit Kendall like a punch in the stomach that her mother would not be around for ever, that this latest time apart had been too long.

‘Kendall. Why didn't you call?' Lorna's tone was neither hostile nor gushing. It was polite, friendly even, but it certainly wasn't the flood of emotion Kendall had been expecting. ‘When did you get in?'

‘A few hours ago.' Kendall stepped forward and hugged her mom, but the gesture felt stiff and awkward. ‘Where are the twins? I bought some gorgeous Sass & Bide jeans for Holly and a limited edition Tony Hawk T-shirt for Joe. He is still into skateboarding, isn't he?'

Lorna's kind face tightened. ‘No, Kendall. He's not. I don't think he's been on a board since he was sixteen. The twins turn twenty this winter.'

‘Oh, well. I guess he can always return it,' blustered Kendall. ‘Is he home?'

Lorna rolled her eyes. ‘No! Joe lives in New York now. He went out there to college last year and he's working at a midtown attorney's for the summer. Holly's in Sudan building schools with World Vision. If you ever read my emails, you'd know all this.'

‘I read your emails, Mom,' lied Kendall, putting her presents down guiltily on the hall table. ‘I have a very hectic life, that's all. I can't keep track of everybody, all the time.'

‘Why don't I put some coffee on?' said Lorna, trying to be conciliatory. ‘You can fill me in on all your news.'

‘Actually, Mom,' said Kendall, ‘I'm really beat after my flight. I thought I might just go to my room and crash. We can catch up over dinner, just the two of us.'

Lorna's face clouded over. ‘Oh, honey, I can't. I'm actually leaving tonight for Napa. Bob's taking me on a tour of all the vineyards. We've got reservations at Auberge de Soleil,' she added with a smile.

‘Who's Bob?' asked Kendall.

‘Bob. Bob Lieberman? We've been dating since last summer.'

‘Oh,' said Kendall, trying to picture the mystery man who could be sexually attracted to her mother. ‘Well, can't you cancel? I might only have a few days. I could be gone by the time you get back.'

Lorna took both of her daughter's hands in hers. ‘Kendall, honey. You've been gone for a long time. I'm happy to see you. I wish you'd called. But I can't just drop my entire life because you suddenly got a break in your schedule.'

Kendall managed a smile. ‘Of course not, Mom. I'm sorry. I've been excited to see you, that's all. London's so far away.'

‘You're welcome to stay here if you'd like,' Lorna added. ‘I've been using your old room for storage, my shoes were getting way out of control, but the blue guest suite is all made up.'

‘That's OK,' said Kendall, surprised to find herself close to tears. There was no way she could sleep in this house alone, and in a room that wasn't even hers. She felt as though she'd been erased. ‘I'll get a hotel.'

An hour later, walking into her premier one-bedroom suite at the Chateau Marmont, Kendall flopped back on the bed, exhausted. She knew she was being unreasonable. Why should her mother cancel her plans at the last minute? She was the one who'd walked out, after all, with barely a backwards glance at the family she'd left behind. She didn't even know that her brother was away at college, or that her sister was saving the world in Africa. London and Ivan and her new, whirlwind life had swallowed her whole. What did she expect?

But it still hurt.

For the first time since she landed, she switched on her phone, checking for texts or missed calls from Ivan. There was nothing. A creeping fear began to steal over her. Had she made a terrible mistake by leaving? What if Ivan went back to Catriona, with her motherly calm and her smoothly run household and unconditional, unquestioning love? He wouldn't, would he? Kendall still didn't know whether
she
loved Ivan, whether the desire and attachment she felt for him could be called love. But she did know that the idea of him leaving filled her with abject panic.

He's the one who should be bloody panicking
, she thought angrily, forcing her fears aside. Besides, she'd come here to get away from Ivan, to reconnect with her American roots and that was what she intended to do. Propped up wearily against the pillows, she scrolled through the contacts on her US phone, searching for a friend to call, but realized she was out of touch with almost all of them. Her father was in there under Bryce (Vernon), but it would be a cold day in hell before Kendall punched out those digits. Jack was there too, with a string of emails and numbers as long as her arm: Jack New York, Jack Home, Jack Euro Cell, Jack e-fax, Jack new cell. Seeing the numbers, Kendall found herself welling up again.
I must be
more tired than I thought.
Finally she stopped at the one name she should have called first. Whatever the petty spats between them since she left LA, Lex Abrahams was still her best friend.

Dialling the number, she found herself feeling unaccountably nervous. After three rings, the familiar voice picked up.

‘Kendall. Is that you?'

He hadn't erased her number. That was surely a good sign. ‘Yeah, it's me.'

‘Where are you? Are you in the States?'

There was noise in the background, people laughing and talking.