Her American Classic (Part 2)

J Morgan G

Description

Told from dual perspectives that span two books, this moving andemotionally-driven love story will leave readers breathless and reeling inequal measure.It continues. Tom watches from afar, day in,day out, seeing Lily laugh, seeing her cry - an unravelling actress, ripe forthe taking. All he needs is one photo, the money it could make, the life itcould give him and his family. So why can't he do it? Lily's also at across-roads. It's clear now that no matter how far she runs, she can't everescape fame, the paparazzi, even her boyfriend. Surely it's just a matter oftime before she does something stupid, something she'll forever regret. Givethem their big headline. Their front page news. Unless someone can convince theactress there's more to life than sacrifice.It ends...?

Sujets

• Contemporary romance

Informations

• Publié par: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Date de parution: 28 mai 2018
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781789011012
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 4 Mo

Extrait

G J Morgan has been a Chef, a fashion graduate and now works in finance. His unpublished novella “Miss B Tee” has recently been adapted into a short film. His and Her American Classic are his debut novels.
Her
American
Classic





G J Morgan
Copyright © 2018 G J Morgan

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

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ISBN 9781789011012

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Matador® is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd
Thank you to all those at Matador and Troubador Publishing. You made the process of turning stone to diamond far less daunting than I thought it would be.

Thank you to my early readers: Taya Nicholls (my little Romanian pocket rocket/Business partner), Sarah Lawson (my cinema girlfriend) and Gina Hewitt (my lifestyle coach).

Thanks to Phil Burman (Dad number 2) for constantly being my technical support and turning childlike scribbles into a front cover.

Thanks to Paul Burman for being the only person who could relate to the struggles of being a writer and when best to laugh or cry (mostly cry).

Thanks to Barbara Middleton-Chappell for telling me straight and making me realise I’d ran out of excuses not to start writing again.

Thanks and love to Jodi Ellen Malpas for taking time out from being a New York bestselling author and giving me invaluable advice on what to do when the last word has been written (turns out more writing).

Thank you most of all to my wife Krissy, my friends and family, for giving me hours and evenings and mornings and years to type away at my laptop. Without whom the novel would still be an idea on a hotel napkin.
Contents
Part One
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19

Part Two
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47

Part Three
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56

Part Four
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73

America
74
75
76

The End
Part One


Bantham/April/Shot 273
1
“Vince? Vince? Can you hear me?”
“Tommy?”
“What’s going on?”
“Nephew’s christening today. Got half my family here. It feels like fucking Little Italy. Can this wait till later? I’m kinda tied up.”
“I wanted to tell you straight away.”
“I can’t hear you. What you say?”
“You’re not gonna believe this, Vince. I’ve only gone and done it.”
“Done what?”
“I got it, Vince. I got the shot.”
“Serious?”
“I’ve just pinged it across to you.”
“Give me a minute, let me just get this pancake batter off my hands and get someone to take over my frying pan.”
I could hear him over the line, shouting Italian at someone, things rattling, the noise of his breath as I heard him pace around his house.
“Have you got the email yet?”
“I’m just loading up my laptop. Is it from the Awards bash?”
“No, after.”
“Where? Max’s hotel?”
“No, the place I thought.”
“No fucking shit. Nice work.”
“Has it come through yet?”
“Nearly, it’s just finding a server.”
He went quiet for a few seconds.
“Where is this place, some park?”
“Some bit of grass in the middle of Westminster.”
“She looks pretty fucking pissed, man. They arguing?”
“Yeah. I couldn’t hear them from where I was, but it looked pretty heated.”
“And you’re sure there was no one else there?”
“I’m positive.”
The line went quiet.
“You still there, Vince?”
“You’ve only gone and done it, Tommy. You’ve only gone and fucking done it.”
“Are they good?”
“Oh, these are good. Better than good.”
“What do you think?”
“I think this is gonna make us a lot of green.”
“How much will it make?”
“Did you get any video footage?”
“No.”
“Shame. We’d get more dough if it wasn’t stills. I need to speak to my office straight away. Like now. We need to get these on print ASAP, they’re gonna want these sold damn quick. What time is it your end? Is it Sunday?”
“Sunday lunchtime.”
“Well it’s past six here. Why didn’t you ring me last night?”
“Sorry, I feel asleep. I got back pretty late.”
“We’ve lost a lot of time then.”
“How much will this make us?”
“Taking off expenditure, sorting out my informers. It will leave us about 60%.”
“That seems a lot taken off.”
“Don’t worry, Galella, you’ll do well out of this.”
“How well?”
“Your cut. About twenty gees.”
“Sterling?”
“No, dollars. Sterling you’ll be looking at just under twelve thousand give or take.”
“Oh.”
“You don’t sound happy?”
“I thought it might make more.”
“Hey, man. You did well. This is the fucking start, Tommy.”
“Surely now we can stop? We got the shot. I’ve made enough to start over. That’s all I ever wanted.”
“This is far from over. This is finally starting. The girl is crumbling. She’s been drinking all over Hollywood, her man Frank is over my side of the pond. She is ours for the taking. And it gets better. My sources tell me she is back down to Devon next week and it doesn’t look like Frank is going back any time soon. She’s got no security, no bodyguard. You can get close man.”
“I can’t get any fucking closer, Vince.”
“You can always get closer. Cheer up, Tommy. This is a good day. You did good, man. You fucking stepped up to the plate. I’m a happy man.”
“Good for you.”
“Grab some balls, man. You just made yourself a lot of cheddar. That’s money you can take home to your Mom and Molly. You should be fucking proud. You’ve become a man. And this is only the start. There is so much money to be had out of that girl.”
“I’m tired, Vince. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Sleep well, my Prince. You did me proud today. Soon as I know money I’ll holler at you.”
“Night, Vince.”
“I’m not sleeping tonight, man. I’m celebrating. I better go. I’ve got people to ring. Today is all about negotiation.”
“What about your nephew’s christening?”
“Fuck that. Baptism can wait. My nephew wants a cheque for his first car, not fucking balloons and cake. Besides, business comes first.”
“Vince?”
“What?”
“Who is your informer?”
“My what?”
“Your informer.”
“I got more than one, my friend, my little stool pigeons are all over. I got girls on perfume counters, men in baggage claims, some office clerk over at NBC. I got ears and eyes everywhere. All you need to know is, they are close enough.”
“You must have a name? It’s Sally, isn’t it?”
“I ain’t saying shit, Tommy. You can plot your little theories.”
“Did this informer come to you?”
“Through my office, yes.”
“They come to you?”
“They always come to us, Tommy.”
“Are they making money out of Lilly?”
“No, it’s never about money, well, not directly. Exposure is a two-way street.”
“You must know something about them?”
“Niente. I ain’t saying, Tommy. Why are you so fucking nosy all of a sudden?”
“Just finding it strange you can’t tell me anything. We are partners in this. I should know stuff like this. It might help.”
“Less you know, the less fallout if it all goes arse up. Anyway, man, I’m wasting fucking time here. Get off the phone so I can ring my office and make us lots of money.”
“OK, Vince. I’m going home later today. Just for the night.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“I need a break. London has been pretty full throttle. I need to clear my head before I head back down South.”
“OK, go rest your head. Back on point straight after, though. I want LG followed like a hawk, you got me, Tommy boy?”
“Got it, Boss. Let me know if you find out anything more about this informer of yours.”
“Yeah, whatever. Now can you hang up so I can do my job?”
“You still flying over soon to check up on me?”
“Not now. Seems you can handle Lilly on your own.”
* * *
I enjoyed checking out of that hotel, the bed that gave me back pains, sheets that turned my skin crazy, pollution that made me sneeze grey. Molly was pleased to see me, she looked taller, was that even possible, to grow in a week? I asked her what she’d been up to, she said lots, asked her how Grandma had been, she said tired.
In the garden I was shown courgettes, beetroot, spring onions, the chickens – the pair pecked around the lawn, I attempted to act like I wasn’t petrified or that I’d prefer them roasted. Over dinner I let Molly root around my suitcase for her present from London, a Beefeater bear and a promise to take her to Hamley’s when Daddy wasn’t so busy or so poor, she seemed underwhelmed by both. Tried to put her to bed but it only made her upset.
“Don’t worry.” Mum came downstairs. “I wouldn’t take it to h