Illusions of Love

chapter 4



Kenny Ross wasn’t really in the mood for a party but he needed something to take his mind off the impending breakdown of his latest relationship.

He’d been with Casey – an ex-Las Vegas showgirl, now working for Vince and Charley Maine as their Hotel Entertainments Manager – for over a year now but, due to his inability to move forward and take the relationship to the next level, she’d grown tired and, after a particularly draining argument last night, it now looked as though he was about to say goodbye to somebody that could quite possibly have been “the one”. Or maybe not, because Kenny doubted he’d ever find “the one”.

Kenny was about to turn forty-six and he was getting quite used to the idea of spending the rest of his life a very wealthy but ultimately lonely bachelor. That was the way his dice had rolled and he’d live with it, because only one thing could change the way his life would eventually pan out, and he’d thrown that chance away a long time ago.

He was happy, he couldn’t deny that. In every other aspect of his life he was happy. For over twenty-five years he’d been a hugely successful and talented actor with an amazing career behind him, and even now, about to hit the wrong side of his mid-forties, he was still an incredibly handsome man, still wearing that rock-star look that he’d made his own with his long black hair and scruffy beard and the unkempt clothes that never veered far from old jeans and biker boots. He’d always had the reputation of being a free spirit, and he’d found that hard to shake.

Settling down had never really been high on Kenny’s agenda, not since he’d lost the only woman he’d ever really been in love with. His best friend. A woman who’d been in his life for almost twenty years. A woman he’d once been married to and then lost in a stupid second of misguided, drunken lust. One kiss – that’s all it had been. One kiss, and he’d lost her. India Walsh.

They’d been friends from the second she’d walked into his life, back in the winter of 1991, when Reece Brogan had brought her over from Britain to screen test for the leading role in a Michael Walsh-directed movie that both himself and Reece were starring in.

She’d got the part, and Kenny’s life had never been the same again. They’d struck up a bond that nobody had managed to break in almost twenty years, and many people had tried. One person in particular had taken it too far. Michael Walsh had caused untold damage with his actions, but they were very much in the past now and had ultimately only caused real damage to his own relationship with India, because she’d never once shut Kenny out of her life. And he loved her so much. In so many different ways.

They’d married when she’d been only twenty-three and him twenty-seven in a spur-of-the-moment $50 dollar Las Vegas wedding that had stunned everyone back then. But he hadn’t been able to get his head around having someone else to think about and, ultimately, it hadn’t worked out. She’d caught him with Charley, a stupid moment of madness that, looking back, had been so trivial, so pointless, but – for whatever reason – it had hurt India so much at the time. And he’d always regret what had happened because that was the only chance he’d ever had of keeping her that close. He’d never managed to get it back. No matter how hard he’d tried.

So he’d had to get used to having her in his life as the closest friend he’d ever had and he knew he should be grateful for that, but it still hurt to see her with anyone else. Although even he was sad to see her marriage to JJ Foster on the brink of divorce, because all he’d ever really wanted was for India to be happy.

‘Hey, you. You ignoring me?’ India smiled, sitting down next to him, handing him a salt-rimmed glass of something vivid green. ‘Here. Try this. It looks vile but it tastes great.’

He looked at her. They’d come so far, and he still found it difficult to understand why they’d never made a life together because things could have been so different. They really could have been.

‘What’s the matter?’ she asked. ‘Have I got a piece of olive stuck in my teeth or something?’

He broke the stare and took the glass from her, looking down into the transparent green liquid. ‘No. It’s just, y’know, you look good tonight.’

She smiled again, leaning over to kiss his cheek. ‘All thanks to Charley and her fabulous team over at the salon. I had a facial this afternoon that’s worked wonders on my tired, middle-aged skin.’

Kenny looked at her again, smiling too. ‘You? Middle-aged? Come on, India. You’ll never be middle-aged. Neither of us will.’

She laughed, snuggling into him as she took the drink back from him, taking a long mouthful. ‘Much better if you down it quickly, actually.’

Kenny slipped his hand into hers as she leant back against him, both of them so used to being this close, this intimate with each other even though, at times, the lines could become blurred and the boundaries between friends and lovers were crossed. Yet those were the times Kenny dreamed of. To have her that close for just a few minutes, to touch her in that way even though it never led to anything more, he would take it. He had done in the past and he’d do so again in the future. That had been his life for twenty years – taking anything he could get to be close to this woman. That would be the way his life was forever. His choice.

‘How’s the movie going with Layla then?’ India asked, playing with his fingers. ‘You must be almost finished shooting now.’

Kenny was busy working on a romantic comedy of his own alongside Layla Boyd. They’d once been a couple, years ago, when Layla had been a little-known new actress on the block with nothing more than famous parents and an average talent. But she’d grown up, learnt to stand on her own two feet, and she’d become quite the star.

She and India had more than a bit of a past; they hadn’t always got on, although, to say they’d been enemies could be exaggerating slightly. They hadn’t always been friends, but India’s accident had put a lot of things into perspective and they’d grown to respect each other, sharing a not overly close but steady friendship, mainly because of Layla’s involvement with Michael Walsh. Anyone who was involved with Michael would be close to their son, and India was fiercely protective of her soon-to-be-eight-year-old little boy.

‘Yeah, we’re almost done now,’ Kenny replied. ‘It’s going okay. It’s good.’ He squeezed her hand as she knelt up in front of him, cocking her head on one side as she looked at him. ‘Now who’s staring?’ he laughed.

‘I’m gonna miss you when I go to Vegas.’

He leant over and kissed her quickly, and just that briefest touch of his lips against hers made his stomach flip over. ‘You’ll be fine. And when I’m done here I’ll be straight over to see you, you know how much I love Vegas.’

She kept staring at him, only too aware that Vegas was where Casey lived, where Casey would be. On a permanent basis now her relationship with Kenny seemed to be all but over. ‘Are you alright, Kenny? I mean, this business with Casey…’

‘It was never gonna work, honey. Not really. She needed to be in Vegas, I didn’t want to leave L.A., and I’m not good with long distance relationships.’

‘It’s Las Vegas, Kenny, not the other side of the world.’

He looked down at their still-joined hands. ‘It just wasn’t going anywhere, India. Simple as that.’ He smiled at her, not wanting to get into a deep and meaningful conversation about relationships. ‘You know me, I’m a free spirit. Getting tied down just ain’t an option.’

She narrowed her eyes as she looked at him, not totally convinced he was telling her everything but she knew better than to push it. She only wanted him to be happy. And yet, even after all these years, she still wasn’t aware that the only thing that would really make Kenny Ross happy was sitting right there in front of him.



***



Reece Brogan watched as the usual mixed signals flew between his beautiful daughter and her handsome best friend. For twenty years they’d teetered on the edge of something that had never quite happened, but it was something which would never go away. And it all just added to the worry he carried around with him constantly as far as India was concerned.

For the first twenty-two years of her life he hadn’t even known she’d existed, not until her now very-much-disowned mother had started blackmailing him for money following a messy divorce from India’s step-father, which had left her penniless.

But Reece Brogan was an extremely successful and much admired Southern Irish-born actor with a back catalogue of box office hits stretching over four decades that had made him a very wealthy man indeed, and India’s mother had known this. She’d kept their affair back in 1968 very much a secret, kept everything to herself about just who India’s real father was – until the time had suited her. Until she knew she could use it to her advantage, and use it she had.

But she was out of their lives now. India was his and he loved her with a fierce protectiveness only a father could understand. He loved her so much.

Tall and handsome with sparkling blue-grey eyes and an accent that, despite all his years in L.A., still had that tinge of Irish twang to it, Reece Brogan was happy. Happy that he had his daughter in his life, happy that she’d given him two incredible grandchildren; happy with his career. At the age of sixty-three he’d lost none of his good looks, meaning he was still very much in demand in Hollywood and that was good, because he was in no hurry to retire. He didn’t feel ready for the golf courses of Palm Springs just yet. He was happy right where he was, still busy, still making great movies. But finding India, finding his beautiful daughter, that had been his biggest success. The only thing that really mattered.

Once he’d known of her existence he’d done everything in his power to find her. And one rainy November night back in 1991, in her home city of Newcastle-upon-Tyne in the North East of England, he’d eventually tracked her down – a pretty young legal secretary with an ordinary life that he’d turned upside down the second he’d walked into her world.

He’d whisked her over to L.A. on the premise of a screen-test, an excuse to keep her close for a while, a chance to get to know her before he broke the news to her that he was her father. But that screen-test had ultimately, and unexpectedly, changed her life, turning her into one of Hollywood’s biggest stars almost overnight.

And that change in her life had resulted in Reece wasting yet more years wondering how to tell her the truth, waiting longer than he should have done to let her know who he really was. But, once it was finally out in the open – years later than it should have been – it had proved to be a turning point for India.

Everything had changed after that. She and Michael Walsh had married, becoming one of Hollywood’s most powerful couples. They’d had Ethan – Reece’s gorgeous grandson – and Reece had thought that was it, that she was settled and happy, surrounded by the family she so badly needed.

But, not long after Ethan’s birth, something had happened between her and Michael. Something she’d never spoken to him about but something that had caused her to cut the famous actor out of her life for more than five years and Reece knew, he was absolutely certain, that both Kenny and JJ knew exactly what had caused India to do that. Why, for all those years, she wouldn’t even talk about Michael, despite the fact they had a child together. He knew that some people had every idea just what had gone on, while he still had none. But she’d told him one thing – she’d told him that he didn’t need to know, and he’d learnt to accept that that was all he was ever going to get out of her on the subject.

It was all in the past now, anyway. Because her almost obsessive attachment to Michael seemed to be showing no signs of re-appearing, and for that Reece couldn’t be more grateful. But he still hoped that she never found out that the main reason he’d taken this movie role alongside her was to make sure that nothing had the chance to start up again between her and Michael. He believed her totally when she said she was never going back, but it wasn’t his daughter he was concerned about. Michael Walsh, however, was another matter.

‘She’s a big girl now, honey,’ Martha smiled, walking up alongside him and handing him another glass of champagne.

Martha Turner – Reece’s wife of almost eight years and the one person that had kept him sane during all the crazy shit that had gone on in the past. An accomplished character actress, she’d fallen into the role of India’s mum like she’d been doing it all her life, and for that alone Reece loved her more than he could ever explain. Any ounce of stability that India could get was better than none at all, and sometimes Martha was the only person that India would actually listen to.

He pushed a hand through his rapidly greying hair and smiled at his wife, taking the champagne from her. ‘Yes, well, I guess she’ll always be my little girl.’

Martha squeezed his shoulder, kissing him quickly. ‘Maybe you making this movie with her is a good thing right now then, huh?’

Reece nodded, looking over towards his daughter who was talking to Layla Boyd. They were examining each others nails, laughing like a couple of school kids, and a few years ago that wasn’t a sight anyone ever thought they’d see.

‘I hate saying that it gives me a chance to keep an eye on her but, y’know… her being so close to Michael…’

Martha squeezed his shoulder again. ‘It’ll be fine. She’s been through a lot, but she’s also learnt a lot of lessons.’

Reece took a long drink and looked over at India again, the sight of her so happy – despite her marriage falling apart around her – only making him increasingly nervous about future actions she may feel inclined to take.

‘I hope you’re right, Martha.’ He looked at his beautiful blond-haired blue-eyed wife. Would India ever find the security and love that he’d managed to find? ‘I really hope you’re right.’

‘She won’t go back to him, Reece. Surely. Not after everything that’s happened?’

Reece shrugged, a feeling of more-than-familiar unease creeping over him as relocation to Las Vegas loomed ever nearer.

‘I’d like to think that was true, Martha. I really would. But I know my daughter. I’ve seen what that man can do to her. And if I wasn’t making this movie with her, believe me, I would be doing everything in my power to make sure I was in Vegas watching over her. I’d be doing everything in my power to make sure I was there…’



***



Layla liked India. Now. The relationship they had seemed to grow that little bit stronger and that touch more friendly as the months went by and it was nice, getting to really know each other.

India had chosen Layla’s very popular daytime chat show in which to give her first major interview after her near-fatal accident, and Layla had been somewhat overwhelmed at a gesture that India need not have given, considering the past they’d shared. But it had been the beginning of something that both Layla and India felt much more comfortable with – liking each other rather than the constant sniping that had gone on previously.

They had far more in common than they’d originally thought, but the one thing they’d always had in common was the one thing that was making Layla so sad right now. Michael Walsh. He’d been at the centre of everything back then and he was continuing to hold onto that position now, but Layla knew it was nobody’s fault. Not this time. She knew that Michael had tried to love her, he really had, and she’d loved him all the more because at least he’d made an effort to put his ex-wife behind him and move on. He just hadn’t had the will to move far enough. And now Layla was more than aware that her days in his life were well and truly numbered, and it was something she was just going to have to learn to deal with. But it was hard.

‘You… you know that Michael and I, we… we’re all but over. Did you know that?’

India looked at Layla, surprised that she was bringing this subject up because the one thing they’d never really talked about was Michael.

‘No. I didn’t know. I’m sorry, Layla. I…’

Layla smiled, playing with the delicate diamond tennis bracelet that hung off her wrist. A present from Michael, during happier times. If they’d ever really had any. ‘It’s okay. Really. It’s been coming for a while.’

India leant back against the wall and exhaled, suddenly realising she’d been holding her breath. ‘Why? I mean, is there a… a reason why?’ She turned to look at Layla.

‘You really have no idea, do you?’ Layla whispered, staring right into India’s eyes, challenging her to answer the question truthfully, or lie and pretend that she really didn’t know what she was talking about.

‘I don’t… Layla, I…’ India really didn’t want Layla to be telling her this. She didn’t want to know that Michael couldn’t make his relationship with her work; she didn’t want to hear that.

But Layla knew. She knew that India had every idea why Michael would never commit to anyone else, she could see it in her eyes. And she didn’t blame her, of course she didn’t. What good would that do? It was nobody’s fault, not really. India couldn’t help being who she was, and Michael couldn’t help feeling the way he did. Nobody’s fault.

‘Do you really need me to spell it out?’ Layla went on, her eyes still fixed on the beautiful woman in front of her. ‘He’ll never commit to anyone, India. Because he’s still in love with you.’