The Heartbreak Cafe Read online

  ‘This is Ross. And great to meet you too,’ Grainne said before turning again to Emer. ‘Listen I’m sorry to interrupt, but amid last night’s craziness, I think Ross might have left his toy here. It’s a little black and white thing that looks like it might have been a dog at one stage, except for the two chewed off paws?’

  ‘Oh right. I don’t think I’ve seen it,’ Emer replied, but there was no mistaking the deep red flush that appeared on her face and travelled all the way down her neck.

  Jess was perplexed. What on earth was up with Emer today? Anyone would think that she was embarrassed at having her here. What was going on? And what did Grainne mean by last night’s craziness?

  ‘Not to worry. Maybe one of the other kids picked it up. I can only blame myself for not being um…observant enough to keep an eye on it. And the O’Connors weren’t much better. I blame Emer for force-feeding us all that booze, or should I say force-drinking,’ she added winking at Jess. ‘Great barbeque though,’ she added to Emer, who didn’t seem to know where to look. ‘I met Jill Carney earlier and she’s as bad as I am – none of us are able for late nights anymore. Oh, and happy birthday again.’

  Now it was Jess turn to feel wrong-footed. Late nights? Didn’t Emer tell her when she offered to baby-sit last night that she and Dave were having a quiet night in? But instead it seemed they’d hosted a big birthday barbeque. Not that it was any of Jess’s business what they did or didn’t do, but why lie about it?

  ‘I’ll keep an eye out,’ Emer was saying now, as she walked Grainne back through to the front door, while Jess remained in the garden, perplexed. She tried to get a handle on this for a second. Not only had Emer refused her offer to baby-sit, but she’d also lied outright about a party and decided not to invite her, while knowing well that Brian was away and she was at a loose end. And then to top it all off, today she’d been sniffy about Jess’s earnings and had questioned her generosity.

  ‘So a late night last night then?’ she said evenly, when Emer came back outside.

  ‘Yeah. It was one of those unexpected things, you know.’

  ‘So you and Dave didn’t get your quiet night in after all?’

  ‘No. Look Jess, I would have invited you but …’

  There was a heavy silence, and right then Jess understood that something major had shifted in their friendship.

  ‘Well it’s just …it was more of a kids thing really, so I didn’t think...’

  Immediately Jess felt wounded. So she needed children to gain a pass to her friend’s life these days?

  ‘Look I just thought it would be easier if you I didn’t …I mean …’ The sentence trailed off, but Jess didn’t really need to hear the rest.

  Her heart sank. Best friends or not, clearly Emer felt it was preferable to cut her out of certain aspects of her life and keep her at arms’ length – simply because she wasn’t a member of that exclusive club that lately, most of her friends seemed to have joined.

  The mummy club.

  Chapter 3

  Ruth Seymour turned to admire herself in the full-length mirror.

  The incredible low backed, silver Christian Dior dress she wore was perfect for tonight. She looked like a star, sparkled the way a diva should. Her long blonde hair cascaded past her shoulders in luxurious waves, her blue eyes sparkled, her full lips were glossy, and the dress she was wearing fit her size zero body like a glove. Tonight was certainly not the night for basic black; she was not a backup singer, and definitely not just part of the scenery. She was Ruth Seymour, wildly successful star of US TV series Glamazons, who was currently lighting up Hollywood like a supernova.

  She turned around and looked at her assistant, Chloe, who was typing on her BlackBerry.

  ‘So, do I look OK?’ she inquired, already knowing the answer, (she did pay Chloe after all) but still she needed the confidence boost.

  ‘Oh you look fabulous, truly!’ Chloe exclaimed. ‘What shoes are you wearing?’

  Ruth smiled. The answer was a stupendous pair of silver, jewelled Manolo Blahniks that her stylist had just sent over. Thirteen hundred dollars and she got them for nothing because of who she was. In truth, Ruth preferred Louboutins, but apparently the designer refused to give freebies. Oh well, it wasn’t as though she couldn’t afford to buy them what with her agent now talking six figures per episode of Glamazons. And bought them she had – several times over.

  ‘Probably the Manolos,’ she replied airily, catching the look of sheer envy on Chloe’s face when she pulled them out of their dustcover and put one on her elegantly petite foot. Imagine walking down the street in Lakeview wearing these? Their eyes would pop out of their heads with envy!

  Well, perhaps she might just do that, Ruth thought, putting on the other shoe and making a mental note to pack them in her suitcase later. ‘Remind me not to forget to bring these tomorrow, won’t you?’ she asked Chloe.

  ‘Sure. Ready for champagne?’ Her assistant twisted the cork on a bottle of Veuve Cliquot, which opened with a satisfactory ‘pop’ and Ruth grinned, deciding this was possibly her most favourite sound in the world.

  ‘When was the last time you were home for a visit?’ Chloe asked, handing her a glass.

  Ruth took a sip of champagne. ‘Oh, I don’t know, a few years, I guess,’ she replied blithely. ‘I’ve just been so busy and it’s not exactly a quick trip after all so I haven’t really had the time.’ She moved in front of the mirror to again take in her appearance. ‘What time does the car come?’

  Chloe, wisely taking the change of subject as an indicator that the issue was closed for discussion, looked at her notes and told her boss that the car would arrive at seven.

  Actually, Ruth knew exactly when she was last back in Ireland. It had been five years and up until now, she’d avoided a return to her home country like the plague. It wasn’t that she didn’t yearn to see her family – she missed them terribly, and luckily they’d come to see her in LA a few times – it was everyone else that was the problem. She didn’t want to be judged, was terrified of being pitied or worse, being called a failure. Not that she hadn’t been close enough to drop in for a visit either; she never hesitated to travel to Paris or holiday on the Riveria, but had never had any desire to go back to Ireland and the sleepy little backwater in which she grew up.

  Until now.

  Ruth smiled. Now, thanks to Glamazons, she was a huge success and it wasn’t so hard to face your past when you were being celebrated. Ruth was currently at the top of her game. The first season of the TV show in which she starred – based around the glamorous and fashionable lifestyles of Malibu’s elite – had been a huge ratings success across the country and they’d just finished shooting Season Two. There were murmurings of an Emmy nomination for her and one of her co-stars, and the show had just been commissioned for a further season, raising Ruth’s stock even higher and further certifying her as a bona fide Hollywood star. The recent announcement was the reason for the party she was attending tonight, and she had just enough time to whoop it up before her flight to Dublin tomorrow.

  The pilot of the show was just about to hit Irish TV screens, and she had been invited to be interviewed on Late Tonight, the country’s most high profile and best-loved chat show. Ruth had been over the moon when she’d heard that; it was possibly the greatest honour she could ask for, and a definite two fingers to all those in her home country who had doubted her.

  As shooting on the next season of Glamazons wasn’t due to begin again until the autumn, she planned to spend the summer in Lakeview with her folks, making up for lost time and she thought happily, basking in her well-earned success.

  Besides, she figured she’d earned a few months off. She’d been slogging hard for years to try and make it to this level, and finally, finally, it was all coming together the way it was supposed to be.

  Ruth had known from a very young age that she was destined for stardom. After all, she had always been attractive and her youthful prettiness had never left her, instead
transforming her into a stunning woman. Even now at thirty years old, she didn’t have to worry about botox and some of the other procedures that her co-stars obsessed about. She had great genes and she knew it.

  Plus, she’d always known she was a great actress and the past five years had been incredibly hard for her, so she was thrilled to know that people were finally recognizing her gift. Following early success in Ireland on a home-grown TV soap called The Local, everyone back home (including Ruth) had been convinced that the transition to Hollywood was a certainty.

  However, upon landing in LA five years before she was immediately met as an outsider and had been stuck for the first few years in dreaded skincare commercials, as well as doing the odd, clichéd bit part as the nice, funny Irish girl in straight-to-DVD movies. She wrinkled her nose distastefully. Well, those days were over, Ruth knew it. Now the sky was the limit.

  Finally ready to leave and excited for the rest of the evening to begin, she felt completely relaxed when Chloe’s BlackBerry buzzed to inform them that the car was downstairs.

  Her assistant picked up her notes, Ruth’s fur stole, and some other various ‘things’ just in case and shuttled Ruth out the door of her apartment and into the elevator.

  Once outside, they were met with a swarm of paparazzi waiting in front of the building. The flashes from their cameras were blinding, but Ruth didn’t care, she loved it, they wanted her! She smiled beatifically and had to restrain herself from waving even though every bone in her body wanted to wave like she was Miss America. Instead she beamed and gave polite hellos, answered just a couple of questions, and accepted many congratulations as her doorman moved her through the crowd and into the waiting town car.

  Hmm, Ruth thought, maybe it was time to start thinking about security or a bodyguard? She relished the idea and didn’t understand how some stars could complain about the constant photographers following them around, it was wonderful! Besides, what was the point in being famous if you didn’t enjoy the perks?

  She settled back into the rich leather of the backseat of the car while Chloe sat next to her placing several advance phone calls to the people at the party who were waiting for her arrival.

  As they neared the Beverly Hills Hotel, the driver inquired if he should take Ruth to a side entrance, to avoid the crowds and Chloe began to tell him that was a great idea, before Ruth quickly shushed her.

  ‘Of course not, go straight to the front. After all, the fans wait for hours to get a glimpse of the cast.’ She smiled, better to have everyone think she was doing a public service as opposed to feeding her ego. No one liked someone who was too into herself, and Irish-born Ruth possibly understood that better than most.

  The driver followed her command and pulled up in front of the hotel. Ruth looked out of her window at the swarm of people waiting for her to exit the car. Calling on her yoga-breathing exercises, she inhaled deeply.

  Showtime…

  Chloe handed her a mirror and she applied another coat of lip-gloss to freshen her look, before again looking at her assistant for affirmation.

  ‘Perfect. You look absolutely amazing.’ Chloe jumped out her side of the car, and a uniformed man stepped forward and opened the door on Ruth’s side.

  Flashbulbs exploded all around as Ruth unfolded one long, lean, graceful leg and extracted herself elegantly from the car, making sure not to pull a Britney Spears. She started to glide up the red carpet slowly, posing for pictures, thanking cheering fans, basking in her glory. She planned on drawing out the fifty-foot walk to the door of the hotel as long as possible.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her co-star, Troy Valentine, who played her ‘husband’ on the show. He was looking particularly yummy tonight she thought, his black hair coiffed perfectly, smile particularly white against his tan. Guess that’s what living in a beach house will do for you, Ruth thought, and wondered if maybe it was time to upgrade from her apartment in the Hollywood Hills.

  Troy noticed her and nodded in her direction, as if to accompany her inside. She gave him a warm smile, but didn’t pick up her pace; she would see him inside later. Best now to pay attention to the people that wouldn’t be; namely, the paparazzi and her adoring public.

  Inside, the party was in full swing, and the Cristal was flowing.

  Ruth could barely move without having someone rush up to offer congratulations, and she truly felt like the belle of the ball. Bob, the producer of Glamazons was making a huge fuss of her; as were the network moguls and various others involved in the show. The confidence boost made her felt incredibly witty and beautiful and her charms were working to the max, or perhaps it was just the champagne?

  Regardless, it was very interesting to find Troy Valentine so close at hand the entire night. Even thought they’d both worked on Glamazons from the outset, Troy was already a well-established Hollywood actor, while she was the relative unknown, and although they had loads of chemistry onscreen she’d always felt a little overawed by his star power.

  But thanks to her glamorous all-American portrayal of Mia Reynolds in the show, Ruth was now just as much of a draw, and as Troy leaned closer to whisper something in her ear, she figured he was beginning to understand that too.

  ‘You look incredible, tonight, you know that?’ he said, his warm velvety tones and the delicious scent of his aftershave sending shivers down her spine.

  Troy, who typically had the most beautiful women in the world on his arm, tonight seemed to only have eyes for her and while she thought he was handsome, he didn’t come across as the sharpest tool in the box.

  Still, a little off screen flirtation couldn’t hurt her standing; it wasn’t as if either of them was married and more to the point, the tabloids would love it.

  ‘Why thank you,’ she said, gazing flirtatiously from beneath her eyelashes. Then she smiled at him and whispered something in return. ‘Excuse me, but I’ll be right back.’ She headed towards the ladies room, briefly looking over her shoulder to make sure he was looking. He was.

  Well, thank goodness I wore this dress, Ruth thought satisfactorily. She swung her hips ever so slightly; might as well give him something to look at.

  Inside the ladies’ room, she took a moment to freshen up and gather her thoughts. These last few days had been incredible, and she still couldn’t believe how much ass-kissing was coming her way tonight. Feeling the love from Hollywood’s most powerful was what she’d always dreamed of and now she had it.

  She’d also had a lot of champagne and her head was spinning just a little, although it was probably a combination of alcohol and the intoxication of being so celebrated, she figured.

  She was still pinching herself that the TV series had become such a ratings success and that according to the Hollywood press, she’d been a major part of that success. Her agent Erik had just copper-fastened an amazing second-series contract for her and with the way things were going she wouldn’t have to worry about money for a long time to come. There would be no more soul-destroying auditions, no more stereotyped walk-on parts and best of all, no more sniping and smart remarks from the Irish media. Hell, if this Emmy nomination happened there could even be a L’Oreal contract in the works so nobody back home could accuse her of being a failure now, could they?

  Throughout her first few years in LA the media in Ireland had been relentless in their criticism, apparently only too delighted that Ruth Seymour hadn’t managed to break through. While in the beginning Ruth had been reasonably confident, she still had no illusions about how hard she’d have to work and what she needed to do to make it in this town – although she honestly didn’t envisage it would take so long. Her home country’s criticism had been very hard to take and she just hoped that when she returned this time, things would be different.

  So while she was looking forward to her return, she certainly wasn’t looking forward to the ten-hour flight across the Atlantic, especially not after all this champagne.

  Then again sod it, she thought; tonight certainly wasn�
��t the night for being sensible and she could sleep as much as she wanted on the (first class) flight. Ruth knew better than most how fickle Hollywood could be, so best to soak up as much of the fantasy as possible while it lasted.

  And speaking of fantasy ...

  When she came back out Troy was leaning casually against the wall outside.

  ‘Hello there,’ he said in an unmistakably flirtatious tone.

  ‘Hello yourself.’

  ‘Man I love that accent,’ he gasped with a shake of his head and for a brief moment, Ruth wasn’t sure what he was referring to before it dawned on her. Damnit, alcohol often caused her to slip back into her Irish brogue, something she’d really rather didn’t happen.

  Still, if it worked for Troy…

  She smiled. ‘You never know, maybe next season the guys might write in an affair for you with someone Irish.’

  ‘Me cheat on you with some piece of skirt? Not a chance.’ He sidled closer and brushed an imaginary piece of lint from her shoulder. Ruth shivered. While the critics often described their on-screen performance as ‘sizzling’, in all the scenes they’d had together, she’d never really thought about Troy in that way. And whether it was the champagne or just the way he was looking at her, she was beginning to understand what they were talking about.

  ‘I think you’re mixing me up with Mia,’ she teased. ‘It wouldn’t be cheating.’

  ‘Yeah it would,’ Troy replied, gently pushing her into a shadowy corner by the pay phones. Ruth’s breath caught in her throat as he inclined his head and kissed her hungrily on the lips.

  He drew his head back and smiled softly. ‘Much better when it’s not for the cameras, huh?’

  ‘You can say that again,’ she agreed breathlessly, as he moved in for another kiss.

  But he was right; this was nothing like kissing him on set – when usually they were surrounded by a dozen people or more – this was … this was incredible.