Venus Was Her Name, page 7
Hearing his phone ring, Lance pulled it from his pocket and even though the temptation to ignore it was as strong as his need for alcohol, he knew better than to reject a call from his mother so swiped, then attempted to sound pleased that she’d called.
‘Hey Mom, you’re up late. It must be 1am there. How’s it going?’
‘I can’t sleep so thought I’d check in and see if you’ve made progress with your father. Have you spoken to him yet?’ Darlene always cut to the chase, but only recently had she began treating Lance that way and her tone took some getting used to.
‘Yeah, I spoke to him and he’s mulling it over… It’s all good, everything is going to plan so no need to worry.’
‘Hmm, so you told him about how much you owe, and he’s going to give you a job? Because if he’s playing hardball he’ll have me to deal with. He needs to remember who his real son is and get his priorities right for a change.’
Lance began to perspire, and it wasn’t from the effort of walking because he was going downhill. ‘Mom, I told you, leave it to me. Don’t interfere, okay? I can handle Dad, but he needs to speak to a few people and…’
‘Is he going to pay your debts? Because I told you, Lance, I can’t do it anymore. This is the last season of the show, and who knows if or when I’ll get work so what I have I need for the future, and you need to learn to stand on your own feet. So, tell your father the goddamn truth today because I know when you’re lying.’ This was no-nonsense Darlene at her best and the harshness of her words made Lance wince.
‘Mom, please. I’ll tell him, just give me time, okay?’
‘You’ll lose your apartment. You know that don’t you? My lawyers can’t hold those guys off forever and if they get nasty, well…’
‘Mom, stop! I can’t deal with this right now and you know what happens when I get stressed so quit harassing me. Please, Mom, give me a break.’
When Darlene replied, her voice had softened a touch. ‘Okay, okay, but if you don’t speak to your father soon, and tell him everything, I will. Now I’m going to take a sleeping pill and I’ll call you later. All this aggravation is playing havoc with my nerves so for the love of God, Lance, sort it out.’
The call was disconnected before he even had a chance to say goodbye, and the lack of empathy or words of love from his mother struck a chord. As he entered the dreary village, the one everyone else thought was picturesque, Lance tutted his irritation. He really was stuck in shit creek and more than ever, after dear Darlene’s phone call, badly needed a paddle and that drink.
An hour later, he was the barman’s favourite new customer after sinking glass after glass of pastis before ordering a bottle of white wine. He’d paid for the Ricard as he went, intent on getting completely wasted, but had to keep checking he had enough euros in his wallet. The last thing he wanted was the shame of having to call his dad when he ran out of money which would be very soon. He doubted the cash machine would pay out and the thought of his card being declined or eaten made him cringe. The little bar in Herval was Joe’s local so imagine the shame if the son of their famous resident couldn’t settle his tab.
Lance looked around the room that was almost empty, save two locals who were watching horse racing on the huge television, in between sneaking glances at the miserable American in the corner. Most tourists would probably say that the quaint bar with uncomfortable wooden chairs that wobbled when you sat had character, whereas Lance thought it was the pits. The walls were a dirty cream, faded and patchy, with the odd painting hung here and there. Nothing remotely pleasing to the eye; a watercolour of the church or a ring of ancient stones, probably the ones at Carnac that fascinated his dad so much.
He’d never got why people hankered after what had gone before, yet Joe was drawn to relics from the past, the villagers included. Lance preferred the glitz of uptown clubs where everyone knew his name and Michelin restaurants where he and his mother, or actually, just his mother, got the best table. Not dives like this that served three courses of slop. He knew, he’d tasted it.
He’d also tasted the bitterness that failure brings, heard the slam of doors after another failed audition and the whispers as he passed by tables where he’d once been invited to sit and join the in-crowd. He hated to admit those days were gone, but it was a fact, and, as his mother had unkindly reminded him, soon, his apartment would be too. He’d already sold his car and anything of value like the Rolex his dad bought him for his twenty-first birthday. He’d loved that watch because his friends were bent out of shape with jealousy when they saw it.
Lance had well and truly settled into his maudlin mood, wallowing in his own pity helped immensely by his dire surroundings and as he poured more wine, focusing hard on not spilling a drop, he lamented his sorry, self-inflicted state. The lure of the three Cs had done for him… chicks, cocaine and casinos, in no particular order because each went in hand with the others. And what was even harder to swallow, worse than the fact that he couldn’t even get any pills to take the edge of his craving for the white stuff, was that his mother had finally pulled the plug. And now she’d refused to bail him out he badly needed a handout from his dad, and a job. The thing was, what could he do? He was, by his own admission lacking in the qualification department and no way was he getting his hands dirty. Why should he when his father was filthy rich and owed him?
What galled even more was that his own mother was about to feel the sting of the fickle world they orbited so a bit of humility where he was concerned wouldn’t go amiss. Yes, he was pissed with her, but Lance still hoped she’d find work because whatever she earned and managed not to spend would top up his inheritance fund nicely.
It was a waiting game really, wondering which one of his parents would go first because when they did he’d be set for life, especially if it was his dad. However, what to do in the meantime was a biggie and it had dawned on him as he sat in economy during the flight from LA to Paris, that Gus was the solution to all his problems. His job would be perfect, an easy ride with lots of perks plus the kudos of managing Joe Jarrett and best of all, he’d be in a prime position to call the shots whenever his dad croaked.
Even though Lance and Ace would inherit the lot, another hard and annoying fact of life, if he had to share the estate then no way was he letting that squirt muscle his way in once their dad was six foot under. Everyone knew that when a legend dies, record sales go through the roof and the thought of all those royalty cheques, and how much the song rights were worth sent Lance high without the aid of a single chemical. It was now clear Joe would never send Gus out to pasture so instead, Lance needed to persuade his dad to give him a chance, or at least get Gus to hire him and show him the ropes. That would be a start and once he was on the inside, he could take it from there.
The timing couldn’t have been more perfect because with Ace’s birthday approaching, it gave Lance time to work on his dad and then Gus when he arrived for the party. It also meant he could hide out at the farm. Then, once he’d persuaded them to hire him, he could relocate to the apartment in Notting Hill and live there for free, close to the management offices. It would suit him for now, to stay away from LA while the heat died down and he liked London, so it was a cool plan.
All he had to do was put up with Ace and whoever this girl was he’d gone to collect from the airport and ignore that old witch Nanou, and when Jenny flew in, keep out of her way. There was no love lost between them mainly because he didn’t fall for any of her peace and love crap, especially after she told him straight to his face that he was a cruel, mean, spoilt and talentless mommy’s boy. He also hated that his dad had let her get away with it, never mind the weird way they carried on like best of friends not divorcees.
Divide and conquer, that was his new motto because the last thing he needed was Jenny batting for Ace’s team come the day so somehow he had to score a point, if only he knew how. Oh yes, he’d thought about it a lot over the years, how he’d been usurped by that woman and her kid who’d stolen his dad’s time and love.
Lance had gotten used to his dad’s many girlfriends who came and went, they posed no threat, just more famous names for his contacts book. But Jenny had blindsided him; the nobody, the wacko singer in the band who muscled her way in, especially when the three of them left America and moved to La Babinais and turned it into a proper family home. If that wasn’t bad enough, his dad had adopted the nerdy-looking kid who latched on, endearing everyone he met and worse, wanted to stay with Daddy when his mommy flew the nest.
Lance remembered the day he’d been introduced to his new stepbrother and stepmum, and how happy his dad had looked when he’d picked him up at the airport, talking non-stop about how they could be one happy family. They’d walked into the lounge and found the interlopers seated on the rug in front of a log fire. Ace was playing with a puppy he’d named Scooby. Such a wholesome scene that made Lance feel sick. Joe had acted like the perfect dad and placed firm hands upon his son’s shoulders as he spoke, but instead of reassuring him, it felt like he was being controlled, forced to accept people he’d hated on throughout the lonely, transatlantic flight in first class.
‘Lance, say hello to Ace and Jenny. Ace, come and say hi to your big brother. He’s going to take care of you, aren’t you, kid?’
All fifteen-year-old Lance could do was nod and stare as four-year-old Ace stood and brought over the puppy. ‘Hi, would you like to hold him? Daddy bought him for me, but we can share. Your bedroom is next to mine. I helped Nanou get it ready for you. Do you want to come and see?’
Perhaps thinking Lance was shy or overwhelmed, Jenny also stood and filled the awkward gap with kind, understanding words, like she was a therapist or something.
‘Ace, honey. Let Lance get through the door before you pester him. He’s had a long flight and will have a thing called jet lag; so why don’t we go and find Nanou while Daddy takes him to his room. She’s made a special dinner for us all. Come on, it smells yummy.’
After giving Joe and Lance a conspiratorial wink, Jenny ushered Ace and his puppy out of the room which was a good thing because Lance had wanted to punch them all, even Scooby. His dad had never gotten him a puppy and in that moment he hated everything and everyone so much.
For the next long and arduous month Lance had faked being nice to Ace in front of the adults but in private had been as mean as he could get away with. Telling the kid to get out of his room and slamming the door in his face when he asked if they could watch TV together and giving him evils or kicking him under the dinner table. Lance enjoyed playing mind games with all of them, but Ace was the easiest target and by the end of the holiday he didn’t know if he was coming or going. Happy and grateful when Lance was kind, or played football and then snap, stunned and confused when they were alone, and his new big brother blanked him or told him about the bogeyman under his bed.
It was hard for Lance to leave. Not because he’d miss his dad; it was knowing that his little replacement would suck up all of his father’s attention and love, that’s what killed him. Envy and loathing seeped into his veins like poison because Lance always had to be number one, it was what he needed and expected.
Inevitably, being on the other side of the Atlantic meant Lance couldn’t compete with the full-time son and before he knew it, he was out of the picture and had to make do with scraps and share everything with Ace. That’s why his dad owed him big time, for not putting him first, moving to the back of beyond and leaving him and his mother to fend for themselves.
The bar was full now and Lance had used all his money. He was really drunk and when he stood, realised how badly. After making it through a doorway that swayed a lot, the blast of fresh air only made things worse and he knew there was no way he’d manage the walk home, up the hill to the farm. So pulling out his mobile he tapped the screen and waited for someone to answer. His dad rarely had his phone on him, he probably didn’t even know where it was so when it rang out, Lance tutted and tried the house, unsurprised when Nanou answered.
‘S’mee. Send Silv…,’ no way could he pronounce that in his state, ‘someone to pick me up from the village. I’m at the bar.’
When Nanou answered, Lance had no idea what she was ranting about, just the gist that she was well and truly pissed off with him, so, unsure whether someone was coming to get him or not he turned towards home, cursing as he shuffled up the hill. That bitch was so getting fired when he took over the reins. Things would be so different, then they’d all be sorry and the lot of them could go rot in hell.
Chapter 7
Ace
Even though he knew the route from the airport back to the farm from memory, Ace was having to force himself to concentrate on the road because the urge to stare at Edie was hard to resist.
When she’d emerged into the arrivals hall, then rushed over and hugged him for so long that they caused a bit of an obstruction, Ace knew then that she felt the same way as he. Which was why when she looked up, her face only centimetres from his, he couldn’t resist and did a crazy thing and kissed her in public, not caring who saw. And when she’d kissed him back, her hand on his cheek, what passed between them was something else. It said, ‘Do you get the message? I’m here, with you, at last. So, let’s do this.’
They’d held hands all the way to the car park and once he loaded her case into the jeep, and they’d left the busy roads around the airport and settled onto the autoroute, she’d reached over and taken his hand, only letting go when he changed gear.
Ace couldn’t wait to get home so she could meet his dad and the others, Lance not included, and at the same time he wanted the journey to last longer and to have more time alone, the two of them. The forty-five minutes it took to get to the farm were flying by mainly because they’d chatted the whole time, her asking questions about places they passed, him being her tour guide. He sensed she was nervous, and he got that, because meeting someone’s family was always a kind of test and no matter how hard they all tried to act like theirs was normal, Edie was about to meet The Big Guy, Joe Jarrett and that fazed a lot of people.
It had been the same when he was growing up. Not so much in his younger years because at écoles maternelles and école élémentaire, four-year-olds didn’t know or care. And by the time his friends realised, to them, Ace’s dad was just cool Joe, who let them run wild on his farm and race around on quad bikes. Thankfully by the time he went to collège at eleven, he was part of a close-knit group who helped him wheedle out the kids who were fake and merely wanted an invitation to his house to meet Joe, and those who just wanted to be his friend. Nanou always said it was a shame that Ace had to be on his guard but necessary, because some people weren’t who they seemed.
Lance was definitely one of them and when Edie asked how long he’d be staying, Ace’s heart plummeted. ‘No idea but I wish he’d go soon because he’s already caused a row with Dad and upset Nanou again.’
‘Why, what did he do?’
He’d already told Edie all about his relationship with Lance, so she knew to watch out for his smart mouth and two-faced ways. ‘Just the usual. Treating her like a servant when Dad’s not around… she can handle him in her own Nanou way, but it still annoys her.’
‘Why, what does she do? I can’t wait to meet her and Silvestre.’
Ace smiled and rubbed Edie’s finger with his thumb, their hands still resting on the gear stick. ‘Funny stuff really. She’ll hide one of his trainers because no matter how many times she tells him he leaves them all over the place, then blames the dogs when he loses his shit and can’t find them. And this is so bad, she once stuck the dogs’ muddy blankets in the washer with his stuff. She said it gave her great pleasure watching his designer undies and jeans swirling around in hairy brown water. She never buys him special food like she does me and Dad and at mealtimes, always gives him the smallest piece of everything; chicken, roast potatoes, gateau. In fact, she makes a point of cooking the things she knows he doesn’t like just to piss him off. It’s incredible how many times we have sausages when Lance stays.’
Edie was laughing. ‘That’s so funny and I imagine that doing stuff like that is much more effective and a hell of a lot more fun than trying to get Lance to change. He sounds vile.’
‘He is, and sly, so please be on your guard with him and I swear if he upsets you he’ll be sorry.’ Ace meant it. They’d never come to blows before, almost on a few occasions, but it wasn’t his style. All that would change if Lance did anything to hurt Edie.
Edie jiggled his hand. ‘Hey, I can handle myself. Don’t you worry about that. Where I grew up I learned to deal with idiots every day so I doubt LA Lance will bother me. Don’t let him spoil things, okay? So, tell me what you’ve got planned for us.’
Ace was glad Edie had changed the subject and he was also surprised she’d mentioned her home because it was something she rarely talked about. He’d always sensed it was off limits. All she’d told him was that her mum had died when Edie was two. A tragic accident, and she’d been brought up by Ro, her gran, who she was very close to. He’d seen a photo of her on Edie’s phone and she looked nice. They had the same pale-brown eyes but unlike Edie’s shorter cut, her gran’s hair was very long and tied to the side, and she had a lovely smile just like her granddaughter’s, kind and genuine.
Edie’s dad hadn’t been in her life until she was ten because he’d been in prison. They had a good, but long-distance relationship because shortly after he was released he relocated to the Scottish Highlands. Ace knew what it was like having people poke around in your private life so respected that Edie felt the same and hoped that someday, she’d tell him more, but until then there was no need to pry. Where she came from didn’t matter, it was who she was that counted.
