Superstar (23 page)

The lights on
the porch hurt her eyes, but revived her a little. The maid who
opened the front door looked astounded, and Carrin waved gaily as
Simon carried her past, heading for the lounge. The maid looked
like she was about to say something, but was too stunned to speak.
Simon turned and pushed open the lounge doors with his posterior,
backing in with his burden.

"Grace, would
you bring us some strong black coffee?" he asked the maid.

Simon turned,
and his grip on her tightened. "Oh shit."

Carrin looked
around, spotting a dark figure standing by the piano.

Mark started
towards them with a curse. "Simon, what the hell have you
done?"

Carrin grinned
and waggled her fingers at him. "Hi Mark."

Simon looked
down at her despairingly. Mark advanced, his expression menacing,
and Simon backed away. "It's not what you think, I swear!"

"Oh no?" Mark
snarled. "It looks very innocent to me. You walk in here carrying
her, and she's quite obviously bombed out of her mind."

"No, honest,
would I do something like that?" Simon clutched Carrin to him,
using her as a shield, she realised.

"Put her
down," Mark ordered.

"No, not until
you calm down."

"Hi Mark."
Carrin waggled her fingers again.

"Put her down,
Simon."

Simon bumped
into something and sidled around it. "If you promise to listen to
me before you thump me."

Carrin gazed
up at Simon with deep concern. "Don't thumpim."

Mark was
obviously restraining himself with a great effort. "I won't thump
you. I'm going to make you sorry you were ever born."

Simon gulped.
"Listen to me. We went to Birdie's -"

"Birdie's! Are
you cosying up to him too?"

"No, let me
explain!" Simon begged.

Carrin was
becoming tired of Simon clutching her. She could sense the tension
building, and did not want to be involved, even though she was
pleasantly detached.

"Simon,
poome down," she slurred.

"Carrin, tell
him!" Simon pleaded.

"Tellim what?"
She smiled at Mark. "We went to Birdie's."

"No, the other
stuff!"

Carrin patted
his cheek. "Mark wonurt you, he'shapushy cat."

Mark snorted,
and Simon groaned. "No, he'll just rip out my liver and feed it to
me."

Carrin pulled
a face. "Yuck."

"We got the
photos," Simon blurted, almost tripping over a coffee table.

Mark's eyes
narrowed. "Why would Birdie give you the photos?"

"He din't,"
Carrin mumbled. There was more to it, but she could not remember
the details.

"He did!
They're..." Simon glanced around. "They must be in the car."

"Nice
try."

"Yeah, ewas,"
Carrin agreed, giggling.

"Put her
down!"

Simon
negotiated the piano with a soft jangle and reversed towards the
bookshelves. Carrin yawned, and the maid came in with the tray of
coffee, stopping in confusion.

"Your coffee,
sir?"

Simon glanced
at her. "Put it on the table."

The maid
obeyed and left, probably used to the eccentricities of film
stars.

Mark stopped
following Simon and folded his arms. "All right, I'm listening, put
her down."

Simon lowered
Carrin into a chair, watching his friend warily. "Okay, we went to
Birdie's to get the photos."

Carrin
frowned. "Did we?"

"Shush. We got
a cheque from Centrefold Magazine and copied it, so that we could
pay Birdie, you see."

Mark shook his
head. "No, I don't."

"Carrin posed
as a reporter, to buy the photos. I told Birdie he couldn't have my
soundtrack."

Mark shook his
head, his eyes flat. "Sounds like a story to me."

"Me too,"
Carrin muttered.

Simon shot her
a despairing look. "You're not helping. Listen, I'll prove it. I'll
get the photos from the car."

Mark shrugged,
and Simon hurried out. As soon as he was gone, Mark squatted before
Carrin's chair.

"Are you all
right?"

She smiled.
"Never felt better."

"I'll
bet."

Mark poured
some coffee and tried to give it to her, but her hand did not work
properly. She smiled at his earnest attempts to get her fingers to
hold the cup. He gave up and held it to her lips instead, but she
turned her head away. He was close enough now, and she stroked his
cheek.

"Mark."

"Yes?"

Carrin gazed
at his fine features, her heart overflowing with sweet longing, and
her eyes filled with tears that spilt down her cheeks. Mark cursed
and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe her face.

"It's just the
high and lows. Whatever he gave you is causing this."

"Mark?"

"Yes."

"I love
you."

He froze,
staring at her, then looked away. "Sure, right now you love
everyone, don't you? You love Simon too, huh?"

"Yes." She
nodded, tears running down her face.

Mark wiped
them away. "Damn him."

"Mark?"

"Hmm."

"Do you love
me too?"

He gave her a
slight, crooked smile. "Of course I do."

Carrin sobbed,
her eyes misting as she floated on a cloud of happiness. She tried
to hug him, then everything floated away. She woke to find him
patting her face. He looked relieved when she opened her eyes.

"What did he
give you?"

"Who?"

"Birdie."

"Mango
juice."

Mark
considered. "Probably a hallucinogenic. Here, drink this." He
pressed a cup to her lips and she sipped, then grimaced, turning
away.

"Yuck."

"You must
drink some, it'll make you feel better."

"No."

He sighed and
put the cup back on the table. "How much did he give you?"

"A sip.
Two."

Mark cursed.
"Damn, it must have been strong."

The door
opened, and Simon strode in, clutching the envelope triumphantly.
Mark jumped up and closed the gap between them in two swift
strides. Simon threw up his hands and tried to back away.

"No!
Mark!"

Mark punched
him, sending him staggering back into the door. Simon clutched his
face, holding his other hand up.

"Wait! We got
the photos!"

"You put
Carrin in danger, you jerk!"

"It was her
idea!"

Mark raised a
fist, and Simon cringed. Mark smashed his fist into the door beside
Simon's head with a terrific bang. "I don't care whose idea it was.
It was the most hare-brained, ill-advised scheme ever dreamt
up!"

"I know, I
didn't like it, but she insisted!"

Mark turned
away, wringing his hand. "And you went along with it. Look at her.
She's as high as a kite, and she only had two sips of that
concoction. Do you know what would have happened if she'd had
more?"

Simon nodded,
his eyes darting. "I'd have taken care of her."

"That's what
worries me."

Simon
grimaced, still clutching his face. "Ow! That hurts!"

"Good."

"I think
you've given me a black eye."

"I hope so."
Mark nursed his hand.

"You might
have loosened a tooth, too." Simon rubbed his jaw.

"You have
teeth in your eyes?"

Simon picked
up the envelope, pulling out some photos. "Look."

Mark glanced
at the pictures and smacked them from Simon's hand. "Do you think I
care about that now?"

"She's fine.
She'll be back to normal in a few hours."

Mark ran a
hand through his hair. "Look, I appreciate what you did for me, I
really do." Simon looked relieved, but Mark continued, "but you're
still a bloody idiot!"

Simon nodded.
"Don't you want to hear how we did it?"

"No." Mark
looked at Carrin, who watched them numbly. "She won't drink the
coffee. She's too far gone. She'll have to sleep it off."

"I'm fine."
Carrin volunteered, annoyed at being spoken about as if she was not
there. The happy haze still clouded her mind, and everything seemed
vague. The weepiness had abated, but she was not feeling gay
either, just detached.

Simon smiled
at her. "Would you like to lie down?"

"No."

Mark shook his
head. "She doesn't know what she wants right now. Haven't you ever
been on a trip?"

"Sure, but
-"

"It's better
if she sleeps. This will seem like a nightmare in the morning,
embarrassing, too."

"I'll put her
in a guest room," Simon offered.

"No. I'm
taking her home with me."

Carrin lurched
to her feet. "I can tekcare off meself."

As she took a
step, she hit her shin on the coffee table that she had forgotten
was there. Both men leapt, but Mark was faster, and caught her as
she fell. Carrin clung to him and started to cry again as she tried
to rub her smarting shin, unable to find it. Mark lifted her in his
arms and headed for the door.

Simon picked
up the photos. "What shall I do with these?"

"Burn
them."

Carrin
snuggled up to Mark, stroking the soft hair on his nape. She had a
vague feeling that she should not be doing that, and shouldn't even
be in his arms, but she did not care. It was wonderful to be so
close to him, a sweet delight that warmed her heart. Her tears
dried, and she listened to his heartbeat, wishing this moment would
never end. The cool air outside hit her, and the world spun away,
taking Mark with it.

Chapter
Ten

Carrin woke
with a terrible taste in her mouth. Staring at the white ceiling,
she wondered where she was. She became aware that she was still
dressed, and lay on a pale pink-and-white duvet. The room looked
familiar, and she realised that she was back at Mark's house. A
twinge of alarm went through her, then some memories trickled back,
and she groaned. Her stomach bubbled sourly as she levered herself
upright, clutching her aching head. She ran a tongue over her furry
teeth and stumbled to the bathroom, where she was promptly sick. A
look in the mirror made her jump in fright.

Black rings
surrounded her eyes, and streaks of mascara ran down her cheeks.
She scrubbed her teeth with the brand new toothbrush provided, then
stepped into a hot shower. Glad to be rid of the sticky make up,
she dressed and lay down on the bed again, dreading the prospect of
facing Mark. Snippets of memory made her cringe inwardly, and she
wished she could escape back to the hotel rather than face him.

The door was
pushed open, and the shy maid, Rita, put her head around it. Seeing
Carrin awake, she smiled.

"Good
afternoon, Miss York. Care for breakfast?"

"No," Carrin
groaned. "Just an Aspirin."

The maid
grinned and vanished, returning a few minutes later with the
painkiller. Carrin swallowed it with a grimace.

"Is Mark
here?"

"Yes, Miss
York."

"Why isn't he
at work?"

"I believe he
took the day off."

So that he
could be here to gloat, Carrin thought, annoyed. She handed back
the empty glass and rose a little unsteadily. Rita led the way
downstairs, where Carrin headed for the lounge.

"Mr Lord is on
the patio," the maid informed her.

"Bully for
him."

"Coffee?"

"Yes,
please."

"I'll tell him
you're up." Rita vanished down the hall, and Carrin sank into a
comfortable chair. A moment later Mark came in, smiling.

"How are you
feeling?" he inquired.

She glared at
him. "Terrible."

His smile
broadened, becoming dangerously close to a grin before he got it
under control. Carrin turned to gaze out at the garden.

After a
moment, he said, "That was a very stupid thing you did." She glared
at him again, and he added, "But I am grateful. You saved me a
great deal, either money or embarrassment."

"I'm glad you
appreciate it."

"I was going
to have Janice kicked off the film, then tell Simon to go ahead and
let Birdie sell his filth. That would have meant recasting and a
lot of re-shooting, but it would have been better than paying
Birdie or damaging my career."

"Oh, so all I
did was save Janice's job?"

Mark shook his
head. "Firing her would have caused delays and expenses, and put us
over budget. Her reputation would have been ruined of course, but
that's her fault. I wasn't about to let myself be dragged down with
her. You saved us a lot."

"Huh. I
thought I was saving your career and the film."

"You should
have told me about your plans."

"You wouldn't
have gone along with them," she pointed out.

"Probably not.
Tell me what you did. Simon's version was garbled last night."

"He was afraid
you were going to rip out his liver and make him eat it."

Mark smiled.
"So you do remember."

She shrugged,
embarrassed. "Some of it. Did you have to hit him?"

"He deserved
it, for taking you to Birdie's like that. You were lucky to get out
of there in one piece. Had you had a little more of the drug, you'd
never have made it back to the car, and then I shudder to think
what might have happened to you."

"Simon was
waiting for me in the car. He'd have come for me."

Mark shook his
head. "That would have blown your disguise, and anyway, Simon's a
coward. Birdie's goons would have taken care of him. He's too
worried about his face, haven't you noticed?"

She nodded.
The thought of being paralytic in Birdie's den of iniquity sickened
her. Mark waited for her explanation, and she outlined their plan
and how they had carried it out.

At the end, he
commented, "So the cheque you gave him will bounce."

"The bank will
laugh at him, or arrest him for passing a forgery."