In Love with a Superstar Ch. 02

"Oh yes, anything good?"

"Detective," said her Dad, "Joy is one of your biggest fans."

"Really?" he grinned. He looked at Sarah and smiled. "I don't suppose she caught my Petruchio at the Old Vic by any chance?"

Her Mum smiled and joined in,

"Unfortunately Bruce I missed that one."

"Oh well," he replied, "But you saw me on telly though."

"Oh yes," she said, "I think that DC Shears is the best character in the whole series."

"Lots of people say that," said Bruce, "But I'm never sure if it's because I'm standing there."

"Oh, I like the others," said Mum, "But I'd read all of the books before they were televised, and Russell Andrew doesn't give anyone of them first billing."

"No, I liked that as soon as I read the script, Andy's a bloody good author."

"You know him?" said Mum, struck by Bruce's use of the first name.

"Yes, he's Cathy's Godfather."

"Andy?" queried Dad.

"Yes, his name is Andrew Russell actually, there was some mistake when he signed with the publisher; he was a soldier you see. When they asked for his name he said 'Russell, Andrew'. Next time he comes to see me, I'll invite you."

"Do you think he bases the character on you now," said Mum.

Bruce smiled,

"I don't know," he said, "I was picked for the part because I looked the way Shears was described in the book, he has written a few more since I've played it. If I'm honest I don't think he has."

Sarah watched as her Mother and Father had this in depth conversation with a man they had met twice before. She decided that it wasn't a familiarity born of television, but just as she suspected. Bruce was just nice guy, and there hadn't been enough of them in her life.

The same small jet was there to fly them home, Anna had been there to help them with their departure and wished them well until their next visit.

Once the craft was in the air, lunch was served with a fantastic wine. She lay against him and fell asleep, woken only by the stewardess as the aircraft began its approach to the small private airfield and she had to belt herself in.

The Limo drove back to her parent's house, and dropped them and their bags off.

Sarah made to get out herself.

"No chance," he said.

"What?"

"You're staying with me, your flat isn't ready yet, and I want you where I can keep you safe."

She smiled, secretly happy that she would have him and his strong arms to protect her. Also she didn't want her parent's house to suffer in the same way that hers had.

There was a letter at Bruce's house from Inspector Grant confirming oil plus an accelerant had been used, probably petrol, poured through a hole punched in the glass of her door and burning newspaper stuffed through after it. The Police were watching her Mum and Dad, and cameras and an emergency alarm had been installed. The forensic people had finished at her place but the repairs weren't complete yet. He had even called the neighbour whose car had been damaged and paid for the repair so she didn't have to claim from her insurance.

"What will people say?" she said as the Limo pulled away from the house.

"I don't care anymore," he said, "I want you... no, I need you near me, this isn't just about keeping you safe, it's more than that now."

"Daddy!" screamed a high-pitched voice, the car had come to a halt outside a large detached house in its own grounds, surrounded by high hedges.

Sarah looked out to see Cathy, her hand held by an older lady obviously Bruce's mother. Bruce swung the door open and the little blonde tornado leapt in the car.

"Sarah too!" she said, excitedly.

"Yes Honey," said Sarah, as equally delighted as the little girl.

They all climbed out of the car and walked up the path. Bruce's mother extended a hand and a beaming smile,

"You must be Sarah, we've heard so much about you, do come in."

His Mum and Dad were lovely, and seemed to like her too. They asked about her recovery and the fire. She said that they had got a decorator in on Bruce's instruction, and that she was sorry the place wasn't finished, seeing as the police had taken so long to hand it back.

"But it should be lovely though," she said, "it's one of those girls off of the BBC. Almost bit my hand off when I said it was for Bruce Young." She looked at Sarah, "sorry, sometimes it makes it easier... oh you know!" she giggled.

"Thank you Mrs Young, I really grateful."

"Please," she replied, "do call me Lyn. If you need somewhere to stay Sarah we have plenty of room here."

"She's staying with me Mum."

"I was only offering Bruce," said Mum.

"Thank you very much Lyn," said Sarah, "but I'll be fine."

Bruce's rented place was large, but not ridiculously so. She revelled in the space though, and the large kitchen and large bathroom with Jacuzzi. Cathy was a delight and on the trip back regaled them with tales of her week in Paris with her Grandparents, they were hoping to meet her and Daddy in Nice but the theme parks were just TOO tempting. Sarah put her to bed, while Bruce checked his post, and some answer phone messages.

When she came down his mood was foul.

"Nothing Darling," he said, "Just that pain of a manager of mine - he's just got his letter ending his contract when it expires in three months and all of sudden wants to be mates again." He walked over to a desk and picked out an envelope.

"This has been in my family for years, was my grandmother's, she left it to me, it should fit."

"What is it?" she said, hoping against hope that she was right.

"I should have said this days ago but I wanted to be on my own with you," he picked a small gold ring out of the bag, "Marry me?"

"You're not joking this time are you?" she said. He shook his head with a very real smile.

Almost a week had past and she was looking forward to a long weekend with him - in New York with him and Cathy! She had been to Florida on a package but New York!

Her return to work had been easier than she thought it would be, but the review was a mere three weeks away and hopelessly behind schedule. The weekend in New York was time that could have been better spent getting the show together but Bruce had promised to help with direction and production. They would have quite a few hours in the air to discuss it, he'd said.

The doorbell went and she answered it.

"Hello Sarah!" it was Martin.

"I'm sorry Martin, Bruce isn't here, he's taken Cathy to her Grandmother's." Bruce had left half an hour previously with Cathy to visit his Mother in law.

"I've not come to see him Sarah," he had a very strange look on his face.

"What?"

"I'm here to see you, can I come in for a moment? There are some things I have to tell you."

"I don't... err..." he pushed past her and walked into the passage.

He walked into the living room and sat.

"I'll get straight to the point Sarah, I need to get all of this off of my chest, it's killing me."

"What is it?"

"It's what Bruce is doing to you, you're a fantastic girl Sarah and you deserve so much better."

"What are you talking about?" she said with incredulity.

"Haven't you noticed Sarah?" He looked surprised, "Haven't you ever thought that things were just a little bit too perfect?"

"I don't know what you mean." She was starting to get a bit cross, she had never liked this man and she was beginning to become uncomfortable about being on her own with him.

"Look, it's time I made the confession." He bowed his head slightly, "I suppose it was my fault too."

"What was..."

"After the court case we had to get back in the public's good books. He was going to find some young sap and take him under his wing, 'son of the wild child' sort of thing."

"Jason?"

"I think that was the name. Then he was going to fall for some local pretty girl - preferably some Plain Jane school teacher, have a fast romance, announce the engagement, get the glossies in for the pictures of the happy couple in their love nest, then split due to irreconcilable differences probably because of the press. Jump the first plane to the states and do the same thing all over again. He had to be in the papers for three months didn't he, after all his usual antics would get him sent to prison!"

She was amazed the Martin could be so matter of fact about the whole thing. This was her life and what she supposed to be her future happiness and he was talking about it like it was some film script that she was due to be cut from.

"Why should I believe you."

"Oh Come on Sarah," said Martin, that awful smile glued to his lips, "Didn't you think it was just a bit convenient that he fell in love with you within an hour of meeting you?"

"I..." The words stuck in her throat as she remember the amount of times, allegedly in jest, that he had asked her to marry him.

"The man is an ACTOR Sarah," Martin shook his head as if he was speaking to an idiot, "Oh come on," he looked at her incredulously. "Weren't you the least bit curious about all of the strange things that happened to you after you climbed into bed with him?"

"It wasn't like that..."

"It wasn't like what? Like a fairy story? Like a chick-flick where you know that the girl and her big knickers will get the good-looking man in the end? Oh please."

She thought what her father would have said, and she fell back on his reply.

"Stranger things have happened."

"What, The fact that the hate mail arrived a few days after you'd got together, how long did it take for your flat to burn down after he left you that night?"

"About half an hour."

"Funny how it didn't burn down while he was in there; doesn't that seem strange to you?"

"We... we're in love, He wouldn't have... he isn't..."

"He paid for all of the damage and to replace your things didn't he." Martin let the accusation hang in the air. "And the second letter, it was printed on his computer, that one there."

She stared at the machine, there was a gap like a missing tooth where the printer had been and she wondered why she hadn't notice it missing before. He took his mobile phone from his pocket and pressed some numbers evidently for the voice mail, an angry voice squeaked out of it.

"Lonsdale, this is Inspector Grant, we've checked the printer and it's the same one, and the fish hooks and the scissors match too. small nick in one of the blades that matches. Now, I can't find that client of yours but if you see him before me, tell him there's a warrant for his arrest on my desk! Every bloody copper on the Division is searching for him and he's one bloke that can't hide in a crowd. I want him in my office NOW! You got me? If he doesn't turn up you'll have adjoining cells and I am one step away from announcing this to the press so..." He call ended. Sarah handed the phone back without disconnecting the call.

"But..."

"He's a professional, what did he do, quote poetry at you or something?" Her face changed and he read the expression. "Oh Sarah, and you fell for it?" He moved closer and put an arm around her. a pitying look on his face.

Big tears came to her eyes and he hugged her,

"Shakespeare," she breathed, feeling her World crash around her shoulders, "he quoted bloody Shakespeare." What Tom had insisted on and she had denied to herself was true.

"Sarah, he was sent to your school and there was nothing he could do to get out of it. So he decided he was going to milk it for all it was worth; he was going to show the magistrates. He told me he was going to charm the first girl he was introduced to and get into her bed as soon as he could." He looked at her and grimaced, "how quickly?"

"The same evening."

"Bastard. I'm really sorry Sarah it was never meant to go this far, I didn't mean for him to make you fall in love with him." He looked thoughtful for a moment, "You might want to look at these," He reached into a drawer in the desk and lifted out a large coloured envelope and withdrew some pictures of her standing on the balcony of his London flat, overlooking the park. They were taken from a distance but still showed her in her flimsy kimono, with almost nothing left to the imagination, the ambient light of 'his London' showing off her body.

The envelope was addressed to a famous lifestyle magazine, there was even a covering letter.

"Dear sir

I can confirm that the £50,000 has been deposited into my business account and the pictures and negatives are herewith enclosed for you perusal and use. Please do not contact my fiancée prior to publication as I am hoping to surprise her..."

She could read no more through her veil of tears.

"I thought he loved me," she wept, tears falling onto the pictures, "we got engaged yesterday." She looked at her finger.

"Didn't give you a ring though did he..."

"It had to be stretched..."

"He said it was his granny's I suppose." She nodded, "That's my boy; His Granny is alive and well, and living in Marbella with her second husband, here," he passed her a photo of an old lady in a crazy swimsuit by an anonymous swimming pool. "I'm sorry love," he said, "You shouldn't blame yourself, he's a good looking lad after all. Bloody should be, the amount of money I spend on him." Martin chuckled dryly, the carried on as if trying to explain his protégés dreadful behaviour, "The boy has a massive sex drive, if he doesn't get any he becomes a real pain to live with you know? It's why he smashes all of the rooms up."

"So he does smash up hotel rooms?"

"I suppose he told you that I did it." She nodded. He shrugged his shoulders and sighed, "Can't say I'm surprised love. I try so hard to keep that shit on the straight and narrow. I created a monster right enough, they say that power corrupts but really it's bloody money. And when he couldn't get what he wanted from you during the week he bought it, if you know what I mean."

"He uses..."

"Oh yes, and then some." He said as if it was an obvious, everyday thing, "You'll never believe the number of prostitutes I've had to pay off because of him."

"And we... we made... had... unprotected..." she gasped feeling physically sick.

"Don't worry Honey, I'll pay for all of the blood tests and everything, you're not to worry, you're the innocent one in all of this." He put a hand on both of her shoulders and looked into her face,

"You've got to stay strong Sarah!" Martin shook her ever so slightly, "You're the last in a long line of broken hearts and I'm not going to let him do this to anyone else Darling." With that he pulled her into a hug and she wept uncontrollably. "He messed about with his poor sister-in-law's heart until she was quite mad. You might have noticed that she was a little odd."

"Yeah," she stopped crying and chuckled a little too.

"Well, he did that to her; carrying on with her before his wife died, then afterwards he dumps her because she gets a bit too clingy and, as you probably saw, doesn't quite look like a movie star's girl."

So every thing he'd ever said had been a lie. What else had he been up to when she wasn't around? "Your week in Nice," he said.

"Yes?"

"He wasn't in school you know."

"What?"

"I've been got in touch with his probation officer and he said that he couldn't do his community service, asked for a week's leave." He held out an obviously faxed form, it was a certificate of leave for the Wednesday of the Nice week and the dates matched, the last two days.

Martin reached across to the top of one of the sofa cushions, "Who does he know with ginger hair? Long ginger hair..." he held up the offending item, "Long, curly ginger..." he stopped talking, Sarah couldn't speak through her heaving shoulders,

She pulled away from this co-conspirator.

"I've got to go," she said.

"No!" said Martin quickly, "no love, you stay here for the evening, Bruce will be locked up safe and sound, you might as well stay here."

"No!" said Sarah, "I have to get away, away from all of this... this..." she couldn't finish her sentence.

"No," he spluttered, "Wait! Wait until later this..."

"Martin, I want out of this shit, get me?"

"Where to?"

"My parents house," she said, "I want to go and see my Mum, and my car is there."

"Come on love, I'll take you wherever you want to go."

Martin drove her to her parents' house.

Her Mother opened the door, and read Sarah's face immediately taking her in her arms and closing the door behind her.

She had almost stopped shaking and had told her disbelieving Mother the litany of Bruce's misdeeds and his real intentions of getting back at the criminal justice system using the first girl he encountered. Her Mother's expression didn't alter from the shocked disbelief she'd shown as Sarah began the story. She went to make tea and returned with a mug for Sarah, as the doorbell rang. Her Mother came in,

"It's Bruce," said Mum, "I'll be in the kitchen, No sugar right Bruce? You come with me Cathy, would you like some juice Darling?" Mother's voice softened as the kitchen door closed.

"Thanks Joy," he stepped into the front room. "Sarah, whatever's the matter?"

"Oh, I suppose you don't know, the police not caught up with you yet I see."

"What?"

"You can stop acting now Bruce," she snapped. The misery had abated slightly to be replaced by anger, anger at his betrayal of her. His expression changed, and but she wasn't scared of him despite Martin's warnings.

"What are you talking about, Martin told me that you were upset and that I should meet you here."

"Oh, upset doesn't come close! Did he mention that you are wanted by the police?"

"No? Why..."

"It's all caught up with you wonder boy," she said coldly, "your little scheme to get back at the world through me, Jason and St. John's has backfired on you."

"What scheme? Sarah, I have no idea what you are talking about, and you're starting to scare me."

"Your scheme to fall upon the first silly little plain Jane teacher you met, shag her and come up with some scheme to get it all across the papers to keep you in the public eye for three months while you suffered out in the sticks."

"What?" He was incredulous, he even had the nerve to break into a smile, "Sarah, I didn't do anything like that, I love..."

"You love me? Really, how come there are fish hooks in your desk?" He stared open mouthed, "The Sherlock Holmes scissor expert gets hoisted by his own petard, your scissors match the ones that cut up the letter to me!" He was starting to look flustered now,"And the police say that the second letter was printed on your own bloody computer. Funny how the master detective knew not to include any DNA in his letter isn't it." His face was starting to turn a red colour.

"I've told you, for heaven's sake," he growled, "I had nothing to do with that, look I'll call Martin and..."

"You don't need to," she said with a tremble in her voice, "He already has already told me everything."

"What?"

"Yes, he told me about the sordid little scam the two of you were working up, he told me everything!"

"What are you talking about!" he yelled, "I don't know anything about a scheme..."

"He admitted it to me Bruce, he admitted the lot. How you were going to pick up the first silly little bitch that came your way and fall in love with her and then dump her in a blaze of glory, he even told me about why you've been so nice to Jason!" That had hurt her, to use her, a grown up, was one thing, Jason, just a kid was quite another, and she snarled at him again, "Next you were going to bung it all in the papers and play the nasty, yet put upon film star, and I'd get made out to be the gold digger. You've already sold the bloody pictures and the story." She growled at him.

"But..." he looked stunned. "I..."

"You wanted me out on your balcony at three in the morning almost naked? I now know why you bastard!"

"Sarah please..."

"I don't think we'll be going to New York, you'll have to find another babysitter, take that ginger bitch I thought was my friend, she'll fall in love with you for sure." She held up the strand of the ginger hair they'd found, "although chances are that Irish slut already has!" Sarah all but screamed.