Illusions of Love

chapter 34



Charley lay back against the pillow, keeping her eyes closed as Kenny rolled over to lie beside her. She always kept her eyes closed for those few seconds after they’d made love, for some stupid reason, almost as if keeping her eyes closed would rid her of the crushing guilt she felt right now.

‘Charley?’

She finally opened her eyes, slowly turning her head to face him, a small smile appearing at the sight of his oh-so-handsome face. India was crazy not to have stuck with this man because he was perfect in almost every way, and sometimes it seemed as though India was the only person never to have really seen that.

But he wasn’t Vince, and he never would be. So why was she doing this? Why was she risking so much for nothing more than a few minutes of forgetting?

‘You’re miles away,’ Kenny smiled, resting up on one elbow as he looked at her, her face devoid of any make-up, her dark curls fanning out over the pure white pillow. She was an incredibly beautiful woman was Charley Maine. But she wasn’t India. Nobody could ever be India, and Kenny was still learning – after almost twenty years – to live with that.

‘I was just thinking,’ Charley whispered, twisting her wedding ring round and round on her finger.

‘About what?’

She looked at him again. ‘You really have to ask that?’

He ran a hand through his dark hair, pushing it back off his face, not answering her quite obviously rhetorical question. He didn’t need to. He knew what she was thinking about, because he was thinking about it too. Vince was a great guy, the perfect husband to Charley, a good friend to Kenny. And he didn’t deserve what they were doing to him, just because they both selfishly needed a few minutes of escapism from situations that couldn’t be helped by any of these stupid actions.

‘You need to go,’ she said quietly, turning away from him, staring at a photograph of Vince and Lily on the bedside table. The two most important people in her life. And she was letting both of them down. ‘You need to go, and we need to stop this.’

Kenny knew she was right, but he didn’t want to leave because when he was here, with Charley, he didn’t have to think about the things he spent so long trying to avoid. Yeah, he was weak. So what? He’d had twenty years of trying to be strong, and he was tired now.

‘Charley…’

‘Please, Kenny. We should never have started this, it should never have happened. Just go, before it turns into a bigger mess than it already is.’

Kenny sat up, pushing both hands through his hair, sighing heavily as Charley sat up too, snuggling up behind him one last time. A few final seconds of peaceful escapism before they both had to learn to face up to their reality.

‘Thank you,’ Charley whispered, kissing his shoulder.

‘For what?’ Kenny asked, pulling her round so she sat astride him.

‘For being a friend,’ Charley replied, sliding her arms round his neck. ‘I don’t know how I’d have got through this without you being here.’

Kenny just smiled, sliding his arms round her waist, pulling her down onto him as their mouths touched in one final kiss. A kiss so long and deep that neither of them heard the apartment door open, neither of them heard the voice asking if anyone was home; neither of them heard him enter the bedroom – until it was too late.



***



Michael wasn’t sure if he’d done the right thing, sleeping with Layla, but she could put up a very persuasive argument, when she wanted to. Especially when she was dressed in nothing but five-inch heels and a smile. He was a man, after all. How could anyone expect him to ignore that?

She may not be India, but she was one hell of a beautiful woman with a body that could do things to him that he needed right now. She gave him a release; a chance to let all that frustration go, an opportunity to pretend that the woman making love to him was the woman he really wanted, and not the woman who really wanted him. Because they were two completely different people.

So maybe it wasn’t fair on Layla, to keep her here when she so obviously wanted more from him than he was willing to give her, but once again Michael was tired of being lonely. He needed Layla around, for now. He needed somebody, just not as much as he needed India.

‘It still bothers you, doesn’t it? That she’s with your son and not you.’

Michael continued to stare out of the window, over at the neighbouring villa where he knew India was. With Dominic. Probably doing exactly what he and Layla had been doing not half an hour ago. Did he kiss her like he’d used to? Did he feel the same? Did he make her feel the things he’d made her feel? All questions that continued to go round and round in his head, like some monotonous merry-go-round.

‘Don’t call him “my son”, Layla.’

‘That’s what he is though, isn’t he?’

Michael turned around, leaning back against the window, folding his arms. ‘By blood, maybe. But in every other sense of the word he’s a stranger. He’s just some actor who happens to be working on my movie.’

‘And sleeping with your ex-wife,’ Layla said, pouring herself another glass of orange juice.

Michael looked at her, all pretty and perfect in her baby-pink dress and tousled blond hair. Most men would kill to be with this woman, but all she would ever be to Michael was second best – a very beautiful and incredibly sexy second best, but second best none-the-less.

He rubbed the back of his neck. Just the thought of India and Dominic sleeping together made his stomach turn, but he said nothing. It wasn’t a subject he felt much like talking about, but Layla seemed intent on carrying the conversation on.

‘Don’t you want to know more about him, though?’

Michael turned his head to take another glance out of the window, his attention caught by the sight of Dominic leaving India’s villa, kissing her as she leant back against the outside wall, both of them laughing.

‘Know more about who?’ Michael asked, unable to divert his eyes away from the sight of his ex-wife and his son.

‘About Dominic. Jesus, Michael. At least look at me for a second, will you?’

He reluctantly turned back around, walking away from the window. ‘I don’t want to know anything about him, alright?’

Layla sat down at the kitchen table, crossing her legs, taking a sip of orange juice. ‘And is that purely because he’s f*cking India?’

Michael swung round, leaning over to face Layla, his palms flat down on the table in front of her as he faced her. ‘What the hell is this, Layla? Are you deliberately trying to piss me off?’

Layla stood up, kicking her chair back. ‘No, I’m trying to make you face up to this f*cking complicated life you seem to have. I’m trying to make you face up to the fact that she is never, ever coming back to you, Michael. She’s never coming back; can’t you f*cking see that yet?’

Michael backed away, pushing a hand through his hair. ‘You’re only saying that because… because you want me for yourself.’

Layla laughed out loud, one of those cynical, surprised laughs. ‘Jesus, honey, is that what you really think?’

‘Why else would you say those things?’

‘Because they’re true, Michael. They’re f*cking true, and the only person who can’t see that is you. Don’t you get it? You’re chasing some fantasy that is never going to happen…’

‘It happened once. I had her, Layla. She was mine, and then I threw it all away…’

‘Yes, you did. And whatever happened between you two… She isn’t coming back, Michael.’ Layla’s voice had softened somewhat because, despite her almost desperate need for Michael to forget his obsession with India, the last thing she wanted was to see him upset. Because she loved him. In spite of everything, in spite of the fact she knew – deep down inside – that he would never really be over India, she loved him more than she cared to admit.

She walked over to him, laying a hand gently on his shoulder, turning him round to face her, his beautiful blue eyes looking right into hers. ‘I can help you, Michael. I can help you move on, but you have to let me.’

‘I don’t know, Layla… all of this… I just don’t know…’

She reached out to touch his cheek, running her fingers over it, smiling a gentle, understanding smile before kissing him slowly, willing his arms to fall around her and pull her close because she wanted him to hold her more than she wanted anything.

‘You can, baby. You can do anything. You’re Michael Walsh, and he lets nothing stand in his way. Remember?’

He couldn’t help but smile. ‘You don’t deserve me, Layla. And I certainly don’t deserve you.’

‘Yeah, I think you do.’ She slid her hand into his, leading him away from the window. ‘Come on. Let’s go back to bed, and I can show you just how much you really deserve me.’



***



‘You do know that all we’re doing is giving the paparazzi more opportunities to get more photos of you and me. Like they haven’t got enough of those already.’ India leant back against the wall outside her Las Vegas villa as Dominic pulled her close, smiling that smile – that movie star smile – that could send a million shivers running up and down her spine.

‘So, what do a few more matter then?’ Dominic smiled, kissing her neck, causing India to gasp out loud. ‘Jesus, baby, I can’t leave you alone today.’

‘I’ll be seeing you on set in half an hour,’ she breathed, gasping again as his fingers slid up underneath her T-shirt, touching her naked skin.

‘Half an hour can be a long time, beautiful, when you’re away from a man like me.’

India burst out laughing, throwing her head back as he pulled her close, kissing the base of her throat, moving up until he found her mouth, touching it gently with his own and she just fell against him, loosely wrapping her arms around his neck.

‘Why can’t we just stay here today,’ India groaned, resting her forehead against his. ‘I really don’t feel much like working. I just want to go back to bed.’

‘And sleep?’ Dominic asked, raising an eyebrow.

‘No, of course I don’t want to bloody sleep…’

He shut her up with another kiss, pulling her closer, wanting to feel every inch of her against him and not caring who was watching or how many photographs they were taking. He was right where he wanted to be, with the woman he wanted to be with.

‘You’d better get going,’ she smiled, pulling away slightly, almost forcing herself to let him go, because she didn’t really want to.

Dominic took a quick look over at Michael’s villa opposite. ‘Yeah. Don’t want to be upsetting daddy now, do I?’

India played with the collar of his shirt, looking up into his eyes. ‘Don’t you feel like talking to him? Y’know, even trying to get to know him?’

‘Do you think I should?’

She shrugged. She didn’t really know what she should be telling him to do, it just felt a bit strange that both he and Michael had discovered this connection to the other, and yet both of them were almost acting as though it had never happened. And India, better than anyone, knew that you shouldn’t keep things hidden below the surface, letting them lie there dormant only to erupt like some savage volcano when the pressure gets too much. So maybe they should talk to each other. Maybe they should at least try.

‘Is there a reason why you think me and Michael should at least try and work something out?’ Dominic asked, breaking into India’s thoughts.

She shook her head. ‘No. Of course not. I just… I just don’t want you to think that… that because of what happened between me and him, well, don’t let that get in the way. If you want to talk to him, then talk to him. He might want that too, y’know.’

‘I doubt it,’ Dominic sighed, pushing a hand through his hair, leaning back against the wall next to India. ‘The way he feels about you… he’s never gonna accept me, is he? Seriously? Not while I’m sleeping with you. Right now I’m not his son, India. I’m his biggest threat.’

What could India say to that? That he was wrong? When he probably wasn’t.

‘Hey, come on,’ he smiled, reaching out to take her hand, not really wanting to bring the mood down by talking about a man he didn’t really want to think about. ‘How about five more minutes, huh? Five more minutes then, I promise, I’ll be a good boy and get off to work without an argument.’

She smiled too, pulling him back indoors. ‘Five minutes, Mr Movie Star. And you’d better make good use of them.’