Driver

The car was there bright and early the next morning. I’d been too wired to sleep properly so had seen it pulling into the street, though I’d been ready to go for about an hour. This was the best time of day in this building as everyone was asleep. They weren’t morning people from what I could tell which suited me down to the ground. The quiet was bliss, there was no shouting, no screaming, no god awful trance music or pulsing baselines…Even the streets were free of gun shots and verbal abuse. I let out a deep sigh of relief and stepped out into the warmth.

          The car was an immaculate, sleek, black thing that couldn’t have looked more out of place if it tried. I had no idea of model or make, but it was gorgeous and looked expensive with its tinted windows and suited driver. He got out and opened the door for me, leaving me feeling severely underdressed in my cheap ass shirt and trousers. They were the smartest I had, but paled in comparison to the driver in his white gloves and black hat. Urgh, even drivers make me feel crap and he probably didn’t get paid much more than I did! This was too much for me, having someone drive me places! I tried to make conversation with the driver, but he seemed to be the strong, silent type, nodding and keeping things brief and curt. Awesome.

The journey took over half an hour, so I wouldn’t have been able to walk it, much less even find it. Van was slouched in the bed of his truck again, looking casual in his worn jeans and tee. I couldn’t make out the design, but it probably involved the ‘F’ word as that seemed to be his favourite (mine too! Nothing relieves stress better than letting loose a string of ‘Fucks’ and making up new swearwords by stringing several together) He raised a hand in greeting as the car pulled in. I was out of the car before the driver, and he shot me an evil look for depriving him of providing the service of opening my door. That’s nice and all, but I can open doors by myself, that at least is within my woeful capabilities. I thanked him, but he didn’t respond, driving away too fast.

“That went well.” I said, jumping the tailgate and slumping down next to Van. I handed him his obligatory coffee and his eyes danced, though they had before he’d seen it. Maybe he appreciated the company. He seemed to live an insular life out here. I took a pair of bananas from my bag and handed him one, laughing as he looked at it in confusion.

“Had breakfast?” I asked.

“About to have a banana.” He said, flinching against the tirade he no doubt expected.

“I’m going to sign you into rehab if you don’t look after yourself properly.” I laughed, breaking a piece of banana off and chewing it contemptuously.

He peeled his, still looking at it in suspicion.

Something flashed in the distance, and I assumed it was the light reflecting off glass or something, but Van flipped out his shades and put them on.

          “They always find me eventually.” He said sadly.

I stuck both my fingers up in the direction of the flash. My first experience of paps! Awesome! They clearly had no morals as they just took it upon themselves to follow people around, invading their privacy and personal space. At least this one was a way away.

Van looked at me in awe.

          “If they can’t use the photos, they’re wasting their time.” I said.

Van joined me, and the pair of us sat in the bed of his truck, fingers up, laughing our arses off like a pair of kids. I then had a brainwave. I carried a fold up umbrella in my bag (force of habit from England) as I used to against the sun. I pulled it out, snapped it open and held it in front of our faces.

          “You are a genius.” Van said in approval, turning back to eating the banana and grinning at me as he chewed.

I was just thankful they weren’t the scarily persistent photographers that would get all up in your face and snap.

Once we’d eaten, I’d forced him to drink some water and he’d had a fag (I gave him disapproving looks throughout) we headed inside. It was another building like every other, almost down to the décor and layout. Another snotty cow in a suit and painfully pulled back hair greeted Van and ignored me. He made a point of introducing me and I was as polite as I could manage. She regarded me with her eyes narrowed to slits, but I was coming to think of that as the norm here. I was hated, I got it. Maybe I should take out an ad in a local paper stating that I was aware that my presence was not appreciated, and they were possibly going to get lines on their faces if they kept looking at me like that. That would scare them into stopping for sure. The women here flipped out about that kind of thing.

It was a photo shoot, possibly an all day job from the horrified looks that Van was giving me. I followed him this time, not allowed the bitch to stop me. Obviously I wasn’t there whilst he was changing, but I sat on a stool and chatted to him as he changed behind a curtain. I struck up a conversation with the girls in hair and makeup, and they were delirious over my accent. They then asked me how to do it as they were aspiring actresses who wanted to be ‘different’. They copied me saying certain words whilst Van was laughing his arse off behind the curtain. It was better than being openly hated. Whilst I waited for Van’s hair to be done, I sat in the chair next to him. The make-up girl decided that meant I was fair game and started painting and filing my nails to pass the time. Weird. The days seemed to go slowly for them if they weren’t actually making someone over. I felt a little guilty, the way I treated my hands meant that this would last all of ten minutes, but she filed off all the rough, chewed edges and painted them a grass green colour which I loved. I’d never had a manicure or anything like that, so it was yet another new experience for the day. I asked the girl (Janey) if she’d do Van’s nails in a nice pink, and the pair of us giggled as he looked at us in panic.

“Maybe just his toenails then?” I asked.

When his hair was done (and if I’m honest, I couldn’t see much of a difference even though they were fussing over it for over 40 minutes!) it was on to makeup. Van doesn’t need makeup, he is stunning already with his perfect skin (for a man obv), tan and beauty spot, but apparently they were hiding imperfections. I raised an eyebrow when they said that as I didn’t think he had any.

He was getting twitchy, so I started telling all the awful ‘Englishman, Irishman, Scotsman’ jokes that I could remember. They were all terrible, but that just made the girls and Van laugh. He needed a cigarette, I could tell by the twitching of his hands. I was prepared though! I handed him a sugar free lollypop. He looked at me like I’d lost it, but then, I’d never had it.

          “You clearly want a fag, this will keep your hands busy.”

They all cracked up at my use of the word ‘fag’ apparently it is only a gay slur over here (it was in the UK too, but also meant Ciggy) I smiled and let them get it out of their systems, and Van seemed placated for a short time as he sucked the lolly. Such a kid. I gave the girls ones too and the four of us sat that in contented silence, sucking on apple flavoured lollies. Simple minds, simple pleasures.

          Once they had ‘beautified’ Van, it was time for the photos to be taken.

Janey and Lola (Copacabana was constantly in my head) were fluttering around between shots, fussing over hair, makeup and other things that seemed needless. The change in him was startling though, he was the consummate professional, standing taller, throwing his shoulders back and doing everything asked of him, and more. He knew what they wanted, and god did he give it to them. How is it that a man can just stand there and make your heart stop, or tilt his head slightly and make you want to run over and kiss him. I restrained myself, but it wasn’t easy. They took a few shots of him smoking, which he was thrilled about, and I was seriously pissed off with myself for thinking how sexy he looked when he did it.

 

It was a long day. I broke it up by going on ‘runs’ to get drinks, food (all healthy of course, suck it Van!) and anything else that was needed by everyone present. They were surprised when I offered, but I wasn’t such a snob as to think it was beneath me. I needed the fresh air, and would be going in and out for Van anyway. The bitch in the suit was a lot nicer to me after I brought her some frothy coffee skinny latte thing and a bagel. They had an account so I felt pretty powerful walking in and saying ‘Oh charge it to *insert company name*’ and handing them a card they’d leant me, so much fun! I forced apples and carrot sticks down Van’s throat, though he looked at them like a petulant child. I rewarded him with his favourite sub and he was happy again. Men are so easy to please. I was aware that I was taking the mothering thing too far, but I figured if he got used to it, he’d eventually start doing it himself and I wouldn’t need to. He worked long, irregular hours on very little sleep, too much caffeine and nothing remotely nutritious food wise. I might be dictating and fussing too much, but it was a means to an end. The boy was bloody useless. But he was pretty enough to make up for it.

 

I was drifting off in a chair by the time they’d finished. It was pitch black outside, but no one seemed to think it odd that it took that long. The photos would have to be pretty phenomenal for me to think it was worth that much time being spent on it. Van’s eyes were dark ringed and slightly glazed as we walked to his truck. He’d very kindly offered to drop me home, but I think he was regretting it now as he was so shattered.

          “I’m walking you up to your door Iana (pronounced Yana)” He said, holding back a yawn which set me off doing it.

He had a pet name for me! Yay! It took me a few minutes to get that he was using the end of my full name, and not just picked it out of thin air.

          “Van, seriously, you’re exhausted, I’ll be fine, just dump me in front of the building.”

He rubbed his eyes tiredly.

          “Not happening. You think I could live with your death on my conscience?”

I laughed and shook my head.

          “Thank you for putting the thought that I might get murdered into my head. I’m going to sleep well tonight!”

He looked a little guilty, but his expression lightened when he saw I was joking.

Some kind of line had been crossed today, and I think we were both feeling a lot more comfortable in each other’s presence, especially since the incident with the Pap earlier. He was finally coming to the conclusion that I had no intention of selling him out and would do what I had to to protect his privacy. Hell, if I thought beating the shit out of the guy would have impressed Van, I’d probably have done it (and ended up in hospital as I can’t fight)

          We arrived at my building. The usual gangs of guys were stood around the door, but they left me alone as I was with Van. In the darkness they didn’t recognize him, but he helped with the cap and sunglasses. We passed a man urinating over the bannister of the stairs and came to my door, the customary puddle of pee in its usual place. Van looked at me in horror. I simply shrugged and said; “Happens every single bloody day.”

          I unlocked the door and hopped over the puddle.

          “Want to come in? I’ll make you something to eat? Something that is REAL food.” I said with a grin.

He nodded, so tired and speechless from the classy-ness of my building that he couldn’t manage much more.

I took his coat, closed the door behind him and made him go sit on the bed as he looked fit to drop. I was able to talk to him through the door to my room as the place was so itty bitty.

I raided the fridge of veg, chatting away to Van about the shoot we’d just been on, but was getting no reply. Poor tired boy was curled up asleep. On my bed. I’m having an unintentional sleep over with the biggest star in Hollywood. This can’t be real, I must be in a coma somewhere!

I turned off the hob as I’d been warming a pan, and put the ingredients away. I crossed to the bedroom, carefully took his shoes off, took a photo on my phone to annoy him with tomorrow, and closed the door, flipping the switch.

Sleeping on a floor is not fun, not least when you have no blankets, bedding or a pillow. I managed by balling up my jacket, but it was bloody freezing! I gave up around 3am and sat drinking tea, reading my legal book and listening to Van snore. I couldn’t complain. I wanted him to sleep, it was more important to me than my own comfort, and I was relieved that he seemed to be sleeping straight through. I was aware that I was sounding like a mother with a newborn baby and sighed deeply in annoyance. I had no desire to be a mother, so what in the hell was I doing with Van? I’d stolen his phone from his jacket pocket and put it to silent so nothing woke him. I kept it beside me so that if Luke or Sofia (Luke’s mum) called, I’d answer it and wake Van, anyone else and I’m sure they could wait until morning.

 

I made Van and I tea, as it was all I had, cutting up fruit for breakfast and cooking fake bacon and other fake breakfast components. The fact that I didn’t have a table to eat at annoyed me as it made me the hostess from hell, but I couldn’t do anything about that now.

I knocked on my bedroom door, amased that I had woken him. He’d slept! Surely that was some kind of miracle from what he’d told me! He opened the door and looked at me in confusion.

          “What happened?” He asked, stretching and rubbing his eyes.

          “Apparently my conversation is that boring.” I said handing him a mug. “Tea with Soya, afraid I don’t do coffee. I have fruit for breakfast or fake bacon, beans and toast. I have no table I’m afraid so we’ll have to eat off our laps.”

He stared at me in bemusement, unsure of how to deal with that information this soon after waking.

My one skill and superpower is that when I’m awake, I’m awake. The second my eyes open, I’m fully functional which has its uses. The same could not be said for the beautiful creature holding on to the doorframe.

          “Go take a shower, you might be lucky, there might just be hot water for once.” I said with a laugh, throwing him towels and steering him towards the bathroom. He was still silent, probably not actually in the land of the living just yet.

          He came out as I was plating up the ‘fake’ items. I was sticking with fruit, I was hoping it might wake me up. He looked semi alert now and oh so very cute with his hair all wet and tousled. Unfortunately he had dressed before coming out as the pervert in me was hoping he would only be wearing a towel.

          “I am so sorry.” He said when I handed him a plate and cutlery.

          “Why? You were exhausted. I’m just glad you slept.” I steered him to the bed to sit and eat, then headed for the shower myself.

It was bitching cold, but I didn’t care, Van Murphy is on my freaking bed again!

I pulled my wet hair into a bun (it would be dry in no time the second I went out in the sun.) and came out in a shirt and trousers, grabbing the bowl of fruit I’d prepared and stabbing at it with a fork. I leaned against the doorway so I could talk to him as I ate. He’d eaten everything on the plate! I should make him a star chart and give him a gold star every time he does. I snorted back a laugh as I thought this. I gave him back his phone and explained what I’d done, in case he got freaked out that I’d done something irreversible to it.

          “Feel better?” I asked, fighting a yawn.

          “Yeah, thank you. Your bed is magic.” He laughed, grabbing the towel and drying his hair. It was all fluffy and sticking up. I wanted to take a picture, but that would be too stalker-y. Instead I messaged him the photo of him asleep and he laughed when he received it. I could have shown him on my phone, but this was more fun. Sad I know.

          “Where did you sleep?” He asked, looking worried.

          “The bath.” I said. His eyes widened and I shook my head at him. “I don’t sleep very well so I just read and drank tea. When the caffeine hits my system, I’m going to be a nightmare.”

          “I feel awful. I stole your bed and was the rudest guest…”

I held up my hand to stop him. I loved having him here, apart from the fact that the flat was a complete dump. That wasn’t so good as I couldn’t even let him sit at a frigging table. He didn’t seem to mind, he really was as grounded as I had thought. His humility just made him all the more attractive, and he really didn’t need any help!