Star Struck by Jane Lovering Page B

said something stupid, something that made you think things that you’d rather forget. I’m always doing that, talk first, think later. It’s because most of the people I talk to don’t really exist.’
    I stared for a moment. What kind of person talks to people who don’t exist? And then I remembered my late-night ‘conversations’ with Captain Lucas James. ‘No. It’s all right. I’m all right.’
    â€˜Well. Sorry anyway.’ The door swung slowly open as he pushed it until I was forced out from the narrowing angle between it and the wall and faced him across the threshold. He tugged at the hem of his T-shirt, easing out the creases, and rubbed one hand around the back of his neck, mouth beginning an uncertain grin. ‘Since we both seem to be at a loose end, do you fancy popping along the landing?’ He jerked his head in the direction of his room, then had to scrape untidy hair away from his face in order to look at me again. ‘As the only two Brits left sober, I reckon we should stick together.’
    The double-bass beat which was my heart was steady. ‘I’m not sure.’
    â€˜Come on, this is a convention! You’re contractually obliged to relax and enjoy yourself and to mingle with the fan-boys. Besides, I need a fag to calm me down after that little episode.’ He inclined his head towards the stairs. ‘Bloody Lissa.’
    â€˜Smoking is bad for you.’
    I got an arch look for that. ‘Right. I’ll bear it in mind. So, you up for it?’
    How come I could contemplate going to a strange man’s hotel room without a qualm when the mere thought of walking downstairs into a group of people who were fans of the same programme that I revered made the Valium work overtime? I turned the question over in my head. But the thought of spending the rest of the day alone in a room had nothing to recommend it. And there was something ineptly appealing about this shaggy-haired stranger.
    â€˜Okay. But I’ll have to be quick, in case Felix comes back and misses me.’
    Another head-jerk. ‘Is he likely to? I mean, I don’t know what you two are to each other, but he did imply you weren’t lovers, and when I saw him earlier he looked like a man on a mission.’
    â€˜He’s my friend.’
    â€˜Just “a friend”?’
    â€˜Oh, yes. That’s as close as it’s wise to get to a man who thinks monogamy is something you make tables out of.’
    For that I got a proper grin. ‘Great line. Might nick that one. Anyway, you coming, ’cos I’m about to gnaw off the last of my fingernails.’
    I pulled the door closed behind me and followed his barefoot and pyjama’d shape up past two doors, to the room I’d seen his girlfriend erupt from.
    He swiped his key-card. ‘You’ve not got your key?’
    â€˜Think Felix took it. He wouldn’t want to disturb me by knocking to come in and, anyway, where on earth would I ever want to go?’
    â€˜He’s in for a shock then.’ He held the door wide. ‘It’s a bit messy, but you don’t look like you’d mind that,’ he said, standing aside to let me pass. ‘Liss has done her usual trick of making the place look like she’s exploded in it. Came in to talk work, next thing I know she’s using my shower ’cos hers isn’t working properly or something. It’s eighty degrees out there in the daytime and she wants a hot shower? I told her to go down and ask housekeeping to fix the one in her room, but apparently it’s just easier for her to come prancing over here to use mine. And why couldn’t she take the clothes away afterwards, or at least carry them downstairs with her – some kind of hold-all might be in order, but that’s a bit too much like forward planning for Lissa – what is it with you women and clothes that you have to change every five