Just a Fan (24 page)

'It's not
always
like this,' he replied to my question with a slight shake of the head. 'This time I had you.'

I smiled at this remark. 'I never knew you had to have an escort,' I commented idly. 'But now I think about it, it seems pretty obvious.'

Connor chuckled. 'Well, having an official guy to take you through places like airports isn't bad for keeping away the mobs, but it's not really that necessary in some places, I find,' he told me frankly. 'It's a lot of bother and not that worth it when you can just speedily run through yourself.'

'I guess we weren't that speedy, then,' I said grimly.

'Let's just be thankful the departure lounge for Tokyo wasnae on our side of the terminal!' Connor replied, and I laughed, all too able to imagine what sort of riot would have broken out if it was.

'I'm glad we got out of that one,' I told him fervently. 'I was getting a bit nervous, to tell you the truth.' Connor smiled and touched my hand.

'You'll get used to it,' he reassured me.

'I will?' I asked uncertainly.

He grinned. 'Aye,' he affirmed. 'Because I'm planning on keeping you with me for a long while yet, lass.'

That flight was the longest I had ever taken; in total it lasted about seven and a half hours, three of which I had spent trying my best to catch up on my sleep. However, when we finally arrived at the JFK Airport, it was still morning.

I groaned at the sight through window of the sun still rising as Connor and I made our way briskly through the airport after having collected our baggage.

'What is it?' asked Connor, concerned at the look on my face.

'Do you know what time it is, by any chance?' I asked him wearily, tugging my suitcase along behind me. Connor checked his watch.

'It's nearly ten,' he replied. 'I set my watch back on the plane - NYC is four hours behind. Why?'

I sighed. 'That means I have to wait four hours extra until I can go to bed and get some
sleep
,' I said miserably, knowing that I still looked a sight from getting up early. 'I hardly slept at all on the plane...'

'You can always get some sleep at my place,' Connor told me kindly. 'Go to bed whenever you like. After all, if you wake up during the night, we can always go out - remember this is the city that never sleeps!'

'Yay,' I cheered wearily, simply wishing for a bed to lie down on. Then, as we approached the exit of the arrivals terminal, Connor put an arm around my shoulders to hurry me along as he began to pick up his pace.

'OK, listen,' he told me as he began to usher me along faster. 'There's a chauffeur waiting for us in the pick-up area outside. I've been through this hundreds of times, and I know that we will need to make our way through that area and out of the building with him as fast as possible. Got that?'

'Erm...yeah...' I replied nervously, sleepiness forgotten.

'Good,' Connor replied briskly. 'And remember, just keep your head down and keep walking. This isn't England anymore, pet - I'm a bit more noticed here. Holding onto your suitcase tightly? OK. You wouldn't want to get slowed down -'

'Mr MacGowan?' an Afro-American security officer standing by the doors with his colleague stepped forwards.

'Aye, that's me,' Connor said, coming to a halt.

'We'll be covering you if there's any trouble, sir,' he informed him. 'Just proceed to the outside doors and we'll take care of everything.'

'Alright, thanks,' replied Connor with a smile and polite nod. 'I have a chauffeur waiting who'll deal with things from there.'

'OK,' said the officer. 'Take care, then, sir...ma'am.'

I gave him a brief smile, and then Connor thanked him again and whisked me off in the direction of the open doors.

* * *

'
Eeeeeeeeeee!
'

The sound of ecstatic female squeals attacked my ears as Connor and I hurried past the steady stream of people leaving the arrivals terminal and greeting their families and friends who were waiting for them.

'Connor!'

'Connor!'

'
Connor
!'

His name was being shouted out by a whole crowd of people - mainly comprised of young women and photographers - who were effectively blocking all of the other members of public who wished to meet the new arrivals. In the split second after we walked through that door, I was effectively blinded by the sudden, blinking flash of cameras, and deafened at the same time by dozens of simultaneous shouts of the same name as the gathering of fans and paparazzi sought out Connor's attention. Disorientated by the way the world had suddenly become full of flickering white light and various yells, I almost stumbled, but Connor was right beside me the whole time, holding me close to his side with an iron grip.

To my surprise, I heard that many of the people were shouting
my
name, too, just as loudly as they yelled out to Connor. Almost overwhelmed, I held tightly onto him, which made the cameras flash with renewed frenzy. He was striding quickly, and we were almost at the area where there were no more metal railings to keep the people back. My fingers tightly gripping the fabric of his coat at the side of his firm waist, I walked as fast as I could to match his pace. The passengers leaving the arrivals terminal with us had all stopped to stare as the pair of us swiftly walked on, and to me it seemed as if we were going to walk straight into a solid barrier of people, due to the fact that most of the photographers had gathered right in front of us for better shots. Connor did not slow his pace for a second, however, and kept up his quick stride, marching straight towards the assembled paparazzi as if intending to run them right down if they stayed in our way. At the last minute they moved fractionally to the side as we walked straight through the glare of camera flashes, and then we were in the middle of a large group of people all shouting out to us, holding camera phones and digital cameras over their heads to get a picture. Fighting the claustrophobia and holding on tightly to my suitcase's handle, I looked up at Connor. His face was frighteningly full of sternness and authority, his stormy brow furrowed and his jaw clenched as he clasped me close to his side, ignoring the questions and requests yelled out. His expression was determined and oddly fierce, just as mine was probably confused, disorientated and mildly intimidated. There was a certain firm protectiveness about his grip around my shoulders and the fixed gaze of his blue eyes that made me feel strangely secure, despite the commotion going on all around as we ploughed our way through the crowd that followed us.

As we crossed the floor, security officers intervened to subdue the crowd and give us some breathing space. Connor did not slow down, and soon a large grey-haired man jogged up to us, putting a hand on Connor's shoulder. 'Mr MacGowan? Right this way, sir,' he said in a business-like manner.

'Thanks, Roy,' replied Connor, and we followed him quickly out of the building. Some people were still following us, and a few of the more athletic paparazzi had dodged the officers and come right next to the sleek car that the grey-haired man, Roy, was leading us to.

'In you get,' he said, opening the door swiftly. I lost no time in bundling myself in with far less grace than I would have liked to have. Connor followed me closely, cameras still flashing as he sat himself down beside me on the grey leather seat. Roy, the chauffeur, slammed the door shut after him and went over to the driver's side, getting in as well. Paparazzi swarmed around the car and Roy honked the horn.

'Outta the way!' he warned loudly, then inched the car forwards, gradually scattering the photographers and clearing a way onto the road. As we gradually picked up speed, the gathering was left behind, and I let out a sigh.

'Quite a crowd you had there, sir,' Roy commented. 'Came as a bit of a surprise. I never expected so many people...' I saw him glance at me in the rearview mirror. 'I'm guessing it's because of your lady there?'

'Aye, it most certainly is,' Connor replied. 'Roy, this is my girlfriend, Lillian Harwick. Lillian, this is Roy Raymonds, who has saved my skin many times at that airport.'

'Aw, shucks,' said Roy with a smile. 'Nice to meet ya, Miss Harwick!'

'Nice to meet you, too,' I answered.

'Say, you seemed quite shaken back there, ma'am,' remarked Roy. 'Your first time faced with the photogs?'

I fidgeted with the buttons on my coat.

'Not really,' I replied. 'But it was definitely my first time faced with so
many
.'

'I'm sorry if I dragged you into this without warning you enough,' Connor told me softly, looking slightly guilty. 'I was a bit nervous myself when we went through that crowd.'

'I'm fine now,' I reassured him. 'It was more of a shock than a scare, really. And I had you next to me, so...'

Connor smiled at me, his blue eyes full of the New York sunshine as it shone through the car windows. 'I'm usually more receptive to people who come all the way to an airport just to see me for a few seconds,' he confessed, 'but this time I felt...a bit protective of you. I remember how long it took
me
to get used to all the attention - I just wanted to get you out safely as soon as I could.'

I found myself touched by this. 'Thanks,' I replied quietly, returning his soft smile. With that tenderness on his lovely face and his curls shining in the sunlight, I very much wanted to kiss him, but I didn't really want to embarrass Roy, even though he may not have cared. Instead, I took Connor's hand in mine and held it lovingly, conveying my appreciation for the consideration he had shown through the mere touch of my palm against his.

'You know what I'm going to do the moment we get home?' I said, looking out of the window at the very interesting, urban sights outside.

'What?' Connor asked me.

'I am going to take off my shoes, fall down onto the nearest comfortable surface, and I am going to
sleep
.'

Chapter 16

Chez Connor

Connor's penthouse was a lovely, modern little place that he had bought in a quiet area of the city. Although he had bought this place, he told me that he never really had a fixed house, seeing as he travelled very often and therefore found it easier to simply rent out a few places. He also said that renting out prevented the wrong people from finding where he lived.

I hadn't been able to take the time to appreciate the charmingly airy, modern interior of his high-up New York home, however, due to the fact that I was completely exhausted. All I had the energy to do was kick off my shoes and flop down upon the freshly-made bed.

Connor, who had just led me up to the bedroom, gave a small chuckle and came over to gently rearrange my limbs into a more tidy, comfortable position, before stretching himself out beside me.

'Ah, it's nice to be back here,' he sighed contentedly. 'Though I do admit I'm absolutely jeeked too and could do with some sleep.'

'Mmm,' I mumbled, savouring the softness of the bed too much to be able to reply coherently.

There was a pause of companionable silence between us, and then Connor gently pulled me to his side, letting me use his chest as a pillow.

'Lilly?' he asked me after a while.

'Mmm?'

'Didn't you say once that you used to be a fan of mine?' he queried musingly.

'Never stopped being one,' I told him, and he laughed quietly. I was quiet for a moment, then admitted in a murmur: 'It wasn't much fun, to tell you the truth...I never was the fangirly type. In fact, it was awful...I admired you so much because you were such a funny, kind, interesting person...but at the same time I knew I shouldn't because I'd never ever meet you or get to talk to you...'

'But so many of my fans meet me every day,' Connor replied, confused. 'It wouldn't have been impossible for you to meet me, even if we hadn't bumped into each other -'

'Yes, it would have,' I contradicted quietly, my eyes still closed. 'You know I'm not the pushy type, and you're always surrounded by so many people. I knew that even if I did meet you, you'd never remember me or want to get to know me. You had so many more interesting people around you, and I only knew about the
public
you, not the
private
you. On top of that, you were always at parties and events and premieres with your smart suits while I was trailing round Tescos in my jeans.'

There was a brief moment of silence, as Connor appeared to ponder this.

'I never realised,' he said softly after a while, sounding sad.

I sighed. 'I think I even loved you a bit then,' I confessed, with a small smile. 'I didn't know whether it was normal or not to feel strongly for someone I'd never met before...it was horrible and confusing. But now...'

'Now you're out of your troubles,' Connor finished reassuringly, touching my hair. 'Was it really that bad?'

'Maybe I'm just an emotional person,' I mumbled drily.

'Hmm,' he replied vaguely, then stroked my arm thoughtfully. 'I suppose we really are an unexpected couple.'

'You bet,' I answered, yawning. 'Now be quiet and let me sleep.'

Connor chuckled, and I slowly drifted off, lulled to sleep by the muffled, steady thudding of his heart beneath my head...

When I opened my eyes, everything was dark. At first I was completely disorientated, wondering why I felt so awake when it was still night...but then I remembered that I was now in New York, after having taken a very long, tiring flight.

Connor seemed to have already gotten up, since he wasn't beside me any more. I sat up, feeling a bit odd from having slept fully-dressed, then got up myself, making my way slowly through the dim, unfamiliar bedroom and out onto the landing.

As soon as I went onto the landing, I stopped and looked in wonder.

The landing was almost like a carpeted balcony, in the way that it provided a view of the lovely main living area a short way below and also a magnificent sight through the huge window on the opposite wall of New York City at night. I gazed out at the brightly-lit, tall buildings, marvelling at how pretty it all looked. Full of wonder, I walked over to the straight staircase and went down to the main room, where I was faced with yet more luxury.

The modern, spotlessly white furniture on the thick carpet - which I had neglected to really notice when I had previously entered - was bathed in a soft, golden light from the stylish lamps that stood all around. The ceiling above was slanted, since we were directly under the roof of the building, and to my left beneath the upper-floor landing there was a small, tiled area upon which contemporary-styled counters comprised a chic little kitchen. The immaculate countertops were lit by small, circular lights in the ceiling above, and leaning against a counter beside the oven there was Connor, who was looking out of the large window musingly. The top buttons of his untucked shirt were open, and his curly dark locks were slightly untidy, making him look very charming indeed. Seeing him in such a luxurious, lofty penthouse made me realise just how in his element he was here; there was no doubt at all that I was now looking at a fully-fledged movie star rather than just a man who was very well-known in some different country. The sight of this very familiar man right here in a very expensive Manhattan penthouse, combined with the way it all reminded me of just how famous and powerful he was, almost made me shy of him. I nearly blushed at the memory of having brought him to my horrible little flat when he was used to loveliness like this...

'Lilly!' Connor said happily, having noticed me standing there. 'Can I make you a coffee?'

'Um...yes, please,' I replied, still slightly breathless at the richness I was seeing all around me. Connor smiled and busied himself while I dazedly went over to the window. Outside there was a little verandah that looked down at the streets below. This place was beautiful; I didn't feel as if I belonged here at all.

A few minutes later, Connor arrived beside me with two steaming mugs of coffee, one of which he handed to me before sitting himself down on the opposite sofa. He grinned at me as I took a sip.

'Well? What do you think?' he asked me with a big smile. I looked down at my mug.

'Very tasty,' I replied. 'Far better than my coffee at home.'

Connor laughed. 'No, love, not the coffee -
this
!' he explained, gesturing at the penthouse.

'Oh...it's the most beautiful home I've ever seen,' I told him earnestly. 'It's so modern, and luxurious, and...' I sighed with a tiny smile, then finished quietly: '...so different from what I'm used to.'

Connor frowned at me, mild concern etching his brow. 'Don't you like it?'

'Yes, yes, I
love
it,' I reassured him. 'It's just that it makes me realise how...
ordinary
I am.'

'Oh, Lilly...' chuckled Connor, putting his mug down on the glass coffee table in front of him and coming over to sit by my side. 'You're anything
but
ordinary. But I know what you're getting at...when I myself first got hold of a place like this, I could hardly believe what was happening to me. I was only in my twenties, just out of the rough life by myself in Glasgow...it all seemed so unreal. But I soon managed to get used to the fact that all this was mine - and you will, too.'

'You think?' I asked him, looking around the lavish room as I curled my toes into the carpet.

He gave me one of his fond half-grins. 'You, lass, have shown me that you can get used to
anything
,' he reminded me. I smiled back, encouraged by this knowledge, and happily let him kiss me. He hadn't shaved for some time and it was all a rather scratchy affair, but that was something I found quite endearing. I carefully put down my coffee mug, then wrapped my arms around him, mutely appreciating how firm and lean his torso was as I responded wholeheartedly to his kisses. After a few minutes, he managed to pull himself away long enough to casually offer in a slightly breathless voice: 'How about we go upstairs for an hour or two, before we go out tonight?'

I returned his smile. How could I refuse...?

* * *

'A friend of mine called while you were asleep,' Connor later told me. 'He wanted us to meet up, before I have to go off to do my shooting.'

'Oh, really?' Although it was obvious that somebody like Connor would have a lot of friends, I was still new to his life behind all the cameras.

'We'll be meeting up for a drink at a nice bar near here,' he said. 'Feeling up to it?'

I nodded. 'Sure,' I replied with a smile.

So, about ten minutes later, the two of us were out of his penthouse and in his car. Connor's American car was so sleek it made his English one look tacky - something that filled me with pure, unabashed awe. It was glossy, streamlined and black, its state-of-the-art headlights elegantly shaped, and the windows spotlessly clean.

'Roy says he gave it a buff yesterday just before he took it here from LA,' Connor explained to me, grinning, as we sat down. 'Done a nice job, hasn't he?'

'
Very
,' I affirmed, rather impressed. As Connor started the ignition, different lights and softly-lit digital numbers came to life on the dashboard. I gazed in astonished admiration, not even attempting to
begin
to guess how much this car had cost. Connor's cinematic successes had obviously paid off - literally.

As we pulled out of the private garage and rolled smoothly onto the road, I began to think about just how much Connor deserved all of this fame and fortune. He had started off as a disheartened, troublesome young man - one amongst the hundreds also living in that busy Scottish city - and he had endured failure after failure, from what little I knew of his youth. And to think that he had gone from all the way down there to all the way up
here
...from poor, browbeaten boy to millionaire, award-winning actor living in a beautiful New York penthouse! He deserved all the acclaim and riches he now had; he had worked so very hard to get to where he was now, and to share with the world that precious talent for acting he had. From my point of view, it looked very much like he was now being repaid for the stormy, depressing years of disillusionment he had lived through.

I glanced at him as he drove; unlike so many other stars, he was fully deserving of the fame and flashy cars...and that modesty and genuine kindness he had made him such a wonderful person on top of it all. No wonder I had always admired him so much...

The bar was a lovely, modern little place tucked away some distance south of Connor's penthouse. It was a richly-carpeted, charmingly lit affair, with small tables placed all around. We walked in, and then from a table at our far left a small group of three people saw us and waved. Connor had a big grin on his face, and he lost no time in leading me over to them.

'Hey, Conn, how's it going?' a short, young blond-haired man said cheerfully. With him were sat two others - a woman in a fluffy white jumper and a man in a dark shirt, both of whom were also grinning at Connor as we approached.

'Long time, no see,' said the dark-shirted man with a wide smile. 'Take a seat!'

We both pulled out two chairs, and then, once we had sat down, Connor announced: 'Everyone, this is Lillian Harwick...Lilly, this is Michaela Banks and her boyfriend George Fordman -' the white-jumpered lady and the dark-shirted man nodded '- and Francis Tate.' The blond young man grinned.