Authors: Julie Farrell
Joseph gripped the steering wheel of his four-by-four and cruised through the damp cold night. His freedom and privacy had been severely constricted since he’d been thrust into the public sphere, and there were only two places he could ever really be alone now: in his apartment or while driving. He listened as the wipers rocked mechanically to and fro, slicing up time like a heartbeat and sluicing the heavy downpour off the tinted windshield. It was peaceful in here; quiet and snug – a warm bubble of sanity against the crazy world outside. He sighed. He was heading over to see his brothers Adam and Dylan for a game of poker, and they planned to link up with their oldest brother Ivan on Skype, so he could join in virtually.
Ivan… that was the weirdest situation. He’d been living undercover in the UK since faking his death in the spring, to protect himself and his loved ones from the threats that came with the perpetual motion device he’d invented – then destroyed. He’d already upset some Saudis and some Russians, and he was keen to lie low for a while. It was definitely a family secret to keep out of the tabloids – at least until Ivan was ready to ‘come out’ as alive.
Joseph gazed at the black road ahead. The bright lights were reflecting off the puddles and dazzling his brain, making him feel disconnected and desolate. He realised what he really needed right now was some solitude. He hated to cancel on his brothers, but he wasn’t in the mood for socialising – a night in with a bottle of vodka seemed much more appealing.
He grabbed his phone and Adam’s voicemail kicked in, so he left a message. “Hey, Adam, it’s Joe. I’m not coming over tonight – I’m feeling really beat and I just need some time to chill. I’m okay, but that girl I like is driving me crazy. I’m not giving up, though – you know I love a challenge. Anyway, give my best to Ivan, and tell Dylan not to cheat at poker. Laters!”
Joseph hung up and chucked his phone onto the passenger seat. He glanced across the traffic to change lanes to take him back home, but he noticed a commotion at the side of the road. There was a recovery truck hoisting up a broken-down Mercedes, and the owner of the car was getting soaked in the freezing rain…
Joseph’s heart lurched as he realised it was Eleanor. Poor thing, she looked cold, wet, and very pissed off. He steered the car across three lanes of traffic, and pulled up alongside her, winding down the electric window.
He shouted against the sound of the rain and the whirring mechanism of the truck. “Hey, Ellie! Can I give you a ride?”
Eleanor peered at him. “Joseph? Oh god… some idiot ran into the back of me.” She fought back tears. “This is Matthew’s car; he’s gonna kill me. And now I’m late for an appointment. I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Hop in,” Joseph said. “I’ll take you there.”
She winced. “Are you sure? I was about to call a cab.”
“Come on; get in.”
She cringed gratefully, then she spoke to the recovery guy and gave him her car keys, before climbing into Joseph’s car. She was soaking wet and her hair was stuck to her face. Her mascara was running down her cheeks, and the bad weather was clearly brewing in her heart. But even though she was dripping a puddle on his passenger seat, she looked beautiful to Joseph. He suppressed a desire to take her straight back to his place and warm her up under the shower. Or why not just strip her naked here and fuck a smile back onto her angelic face?
She wriggled out of her wet jacket, revealing her designer suit beneath. “Thanks for this, Joseph.”
“No problem.” He pulled the car back into the traffic. “So where to?”
“The local mall, please.”
“Okay.” He reached out and put on the heat. “You should dry soon.”
She shook the water from her dripping fingers. “I’ve never been this wet.”
He chuckled suggestively. “That’s not the first time a woman’s said
that
in my presence.”
She ignored his smut. “God, I wish I was on a sunny beach somewhere.” She flipped down the sun-visor and gazed into the mirror. “I look a state.”
“Nah, you look perfect, Ellie. As always.”
She transferred her attention to him. “It’s Eleanor.”
He chuckled. “I’m the same. Don’t call me Joe; it’s Joseph.”
She almost smiled. “Glad it’s not just me then.”
“So how was the first day as a pro-journalist?”
She sighed. “It was okay. An eye-opener.”
He focused on the road ahead, listening to the wipers swish back and forth. “No one else tried to point a gun at you then?”
“No… thank you for – you know – saving the day back there. I guess you’re slightly less of an egotistical self-absorbed diva than I thought.”
Joseph laughed. “Just
slightly
.”
They shared a smile. The frosty atmosphere thawed, and Joseph allowed a soothing honey sensation to slink through his chest. Perhaps if he continued like this he might be able to charm her enough to fuck her tonight. That would be great revenge on Matthew for being such an asshole. Joseph threw her his most charming grin. Eleanor squirmed in her seat and crossed her legs – hopefully meaning his smile had landed directly between her thighs.
She twisted to look out the window. “This is the mall,” she said. “Pull in here.”
He steered the car into the huge empty parking lot, which was dark and secluded – and glistened in the rain. There was only one other car in the entire lot, and the sprawling mall down the other end looked tiny from here. Joseph realised this could be the perfect location if he ever wanted some solitude. Probably on a clear night, the sky would be full of stars, and in the summer the trees would be covered with glorious green leaves. But for now, it was gloomy and isolated. He was reluctant to leave Eleanor here – you never knew who might be lurking.
He twisted to face her; she was rummaging in her purse. “So how long will you be? What time shall I pick you up, and shall we go back to your place or mine?”
Her head whipped up to face him. “What?”
He grinned. “Your place or mine? Where would you prefer to be when I make you come so hard that you forget all your troubles – as
well
as your own name?”
Still dripping wet, Eleanor closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Joseph wasn’t sure whether she was going to slap him or kiss him. Her eyes sprung open. “Well, thanks so much for that charming line, Joseph, but unfortunately we can’t go back to mine because my
fiancé
will be there.”
“True. Better go back to mine, then.”
“Don’t you care that I’m engaged to your manager? I think you’re pushing your luck.”
“I haven’t even started.” He gazed at her intensely.
She stared right on back, unblinking.
He shook his head. “Ellie, I don’t understand, you’re an intelligent beautiful woman, why are you wasting your time with such a jerk?”
“Because you offered me a ride.”
“Ha ha.”
She tensed up. “Look, Joseph, much as I’d love to continue with this obscene conversation, I can’t right now; I’m meeting my target.”
Concern swooped through him “Your
target
? What the hell does that mean?”
“I’m conducting an interview.”
Joseph relaxed. “Oh right.” He opened his mouth to say he’d wait for her, but she pulled out her phone and dialled a number.
“Hi, I’m here,” she said. “Where are you? I’m in a blue four-by-four with tinted windows… yeah, that’s the one. Okay, bye.”
She hung up and gazed at the phone. “He’s coming.”
“Who?”
“Pierre Dupont.”
“And you’re planning to interview him in
my
car, are you?”
“I’ve got some dirt on him. And I don’t want anyone to see us together.”
Realisation stabbed Joseph’s brain as he suddenly understood what she was planning. “Well, he’s going to see
us
together. Don’t you think he might tell the papers about
that
? That’ll sure scupper your plans to blackmail him, huh?”
Her face flashed with worry. “Shit. Don’t let him see your face, Joseph. Pretend you’re my driver. My bodyguard. Please?”
Joseph glanced out the window and saw Eleanor’s ‘target’ jogging across the parking lot. He was tall and handsome, but he looked terrified as he huddled in his winter coat against the icy rain.
“This is wrong,” Joseph said. “I know I’m no angel, but I somehow suspect this ‘interview’ of yours won’t be quizzing him on his favourite movies and future aspirations, will it?”
“Welcome to the world of tabloid journalism, Joseph.”
“Oh, I was inaugurated into
that
world months ago, sweetheart – and let me tell you, it’s like living in the slums of humanity.”
“Well don’t be in the public eye then,” she hissed. “It’s what you signed up for. And so did he!”
Joseph glanced at Pierre who’d almost reached the car. “Ellie, you shouldn’t be doing this.”
Her voice cracked with anger. “Don’t tell me what to do, Joseph!”
He smirked. “I could listen to you shouting my name passionately like that
all
night.”
“And don’t sexually harass me. I’m just trying to do my job.”
“Job? This is the craziest job I ever heard of. Hurting people for entertainment. I thought that was outlawed in the Middle Ages.”
“It’s what I’ve wanted to do since I was a little girl.”
“Well maybe it’s time you grew up and changed your mind.”
“I’m not changing my mind. There’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
He leaned forward and grabbed her shoulders passionately. “I could carry you off and tie you to my bed, then make love to you all night until you forget this crazy notion.”
She pushed him away. “Why’s it so hard for you to see me as anything more than a sexual object? Why can’t you take my career seriously?”
He stared at her tenderly. “I didn’t mean to undermine your womanhood
or
your career dreams, okay. I just… I think you’re a better journalist than this.”
Eleanor opened her mouth to reply, but the back door was yanked open and the minor celebrity soap star – Pierre Dupont – climbed in. Eleanor shot Joseph a pleading glance, so he sank down in his seat, not letting Pierre see him. Eleanor threw him a look of gratitude, then she grabbed a notepad from her purse, and climbed out to get in the back.
Joseph watched in the rear-view mirror. The guy was frantic. He’d risen to fame as swiftly as Joseph, but he was very popular with the older ladies, and was often photographed with his wife and children. He was an attractive guy and popular in the B-list world. Joseph guessed that any scandal involving him would be lapped up by tabloid readers, who were already captivated by the sensationalist plots of his soap opera.
Pierre appealed to Eleanor. “Please don’t tell my wife!”
Eleanor pinned him with a steely stare. “You’re having an affair?”
Pierre panted with worry. “In your message you said you knew everything – that you had photographic evidence. How did you find out? We’ve been so careful!”
Joseph waited for Eleanor to reply. She’d only been working on this story for a few hours, so he assumed she’d either been given this information by a colleague, or she’d picked this poor guy at random and sent him a vague message saying she knew ‘everything’, then waited for him to show up and confess. Joseph’s mind ran through his own dealings with the press. Had they ever done this to
him
? There were two main secrets he was protecting – both concerning Ivan: the perpetual motion device and his fake death. Luckily, Joseph prided himself on being more shrewd than the poor guy in the backseat who was currently begging Eleanor not to ruin his life.
“Perhaps you should’ve thought of that before you started having an affair with your co-star,” Eleanor said.
“I know it’s totally wrong, but me and Jatinder just have this overwhelming attraction to each other.”
Joseph suppressed a chuckle as he realised Eleanor had a natural talent for this. It was
her
who’d mentioned the ‘co-star’, but Pierre had fallen for it and confessed a name.
Eleanor wrote something down on her notepad. “Jatinder. I see… Hmm… she’s married to that Hollywood actor, isn’t she?”
Pierre wrung his hands. “Arnold Grayson, yeah, that’s right.”
“Yes.” Eleanor smiled kindly at Pierre. “And when did you and Jatinder last have sex?”
“Last night… But I thought you knew that.”
“Just checking you hadn’t seen each other today.” Eleanor reached out and squeezed Pierre on the arm. “Look, it’s going to be okay. I can help you. Alright?”
Pierre’s voice was full of panic. “Is there anything I can do to stop you from printing this? Think of our kids… our careers…”
Eleanor smiled like an amiable cop trying to placate a petty criminal. “I’m sure we can come to some arrangement. I was thinking maybe you could help me gain access to Jatinder’s husband… we could work together to expose her affair… or perhaps he’s at it too? But whatever we do, I’ll try to keep your name out of it. The public would be more interested in him than you, that’s for sure.”