Rutledge (Mayfair Model Series Book 3) Page 2

  I stood in the empty hallway for a few minutes when Juliette opened her door across the hall then. She was already dressed with makeup on and hair done. Mine probably looked like a trash panda that had been dragged through a bush backwards.

  “Why are you so ready?” I asked like an idiot. I stretched, then rubbed my eyes, probably making them worse.

  “We have to go get the train in an hour or something, so the early bunny gets the worm.” She made rabbit ears above her head.

  “Bird,” I replied automatically. “It’s the early bird gets the worm.”

  “Okay, genius. Whatever.” Then she looked down the hall and back. “Wait, are you just getting in from a night with a hot man.”

  “Ah, not exactly.” I didn’t even know how to explain it to my best friend. “Maybe later on the train okay. I better go and shower.” I didn’t add that I needed time to decipher the earlier hours. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. And what could have happened if I didn’t come upon him. The real lacklustre affair just before I’d been walking that road was best left forgotten.

  My phone alarm sounded and that got me into gear. I showered, combed my blond hair into some form of neatness, and packed up in record time, then waited for Juliette. Ironic that I was now waiting for her.

  Although we lived in the city, it was customary that the night before the performance, the whole dance company would stay together at a hotel near the train station or airport. That way everyone was accounted for and could travel together. It also meant I could usually get a little sleep.

  We’d met when we both joined the Castell Institute in our teens. She was so talented, and I took every opportunity to learn from her. Juliette liked to call me her little Ollie Bollie. If she wasn’t my best friend, I’d tell her where to shove that nickname. But we were almost inseparable: practicing together and working on dance routines at every opportunity. I still remember when I told her I was gay.

  Standing at the barre and stretching, I burst out, “I have something to tell you.”

  “You’re pregnant,” was her immediate retort. Then she did a plié and continued, “No, wait, you’re gay.”

  I felt kind of let down. That was the news. My big news that I’d worked up for weeks beforehand to tell her. She must have sensed my mood because she turned to me and hugged me tightly.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I ruin your big moment? It just came out.” She giggled.

  “You’re making coming out jokes already?” I laughed and we stood there hugging and happy. I loved her to pieces like she was my close sister.

  We all clambered on the train and Juliette sat across from me, stretching her legs out. We would soon be performing at the Fringe Festival in Edinburgh. It was a new, provocative contemporary dance that was choreographed by the lead of our company, and I was excited to perform it. Afterwards, we would return for a long run of our show in London. It was a popular ticket and sold out months in advance.

  I waved to the woman with the cart and ordered some coffee. After taking a sip of the questionable liquid, I decided I should have passed. It could only be described as warm tar.

  I put in my ear buds and listened to the music we would be dancing to. Automatically, my toes tapped the carpet under my feet. I closed my eyes and got in the zone, envisioning each step of the actual dance.

  Someone was waving their hands in front of me. I could sense it in my peripheral vision. I cracked open an eye to see Nate, one of the other dancers. He put a bag of Galaxy Minstrels in front of my face. “Dude, thanks, but no. What time is it?”

  “Like eight o’clock, but I’ve been up since four, so it’s really after lunch.”

  I was lucky I had nothing in my mouth or I would have spit it out. “Well, thanks. Juliette?” I tried to force the attention over to her, and then pulled out my messenger bag, acted very intent on finding something in there—what it was, was a mystery even to me.

  When he eventually left, Juliette slapped me. Hard. “Ouch.”

  “Thanks for leaving me with him. You know that he tells me borderline racist jokes. Were you not listening?”

  “What? Who? Did you or did you not take some chocolate.”

  She only grinned at me.

  “That’s the price you pay. Now leave me alone. I need my beauty sleep.”

  3

  RUTLEDGE

  I woke and had no idea what time it was or where I was. The room didn’t smell familiar and the bedding was really soft. Too soft for me, if I was honest. As I started to sit up, a pounding in my head greeted me. Promptly, I fell back down onto the pillows. Fuck.

  I was petrified to even see what I looked like. And where was I? Fragments of the cobbled street passed through my mind. My next thought was that I needed water, and thank god, there was a bottle sitting on the nightstand, which I gulped down in huge glugs.

  Something was moving near the door and then a nose peeked in. “Awww,” I said instantly. If they were sending in a puppy, then I guessed I was safe here. “And what’s your name?” The pup jumped on the bed.

  The door opened and Marshall stood there. “Can I come in?”

  He’d always been nice to me since I’d met him. “Of course. Um … am I … How am I in your house?” I questioned, baffled.

  He sat on the end of the bed. “Ah, what happened, Rutledge?” he asked, sounding unsure, maybe wanting me to tell him what, if anything, I remembered.

  I pushed my hands through my hair and let out a sigh. “I was out at a club and decided to walk home. Maybe it was a stupid idea, but I’ve done it before. So, I don’t remember everything, but I … uh, some guy yelled ‘faggot,’ and he and his buddy were walking behind me. I sped up my pace, hoping I’d see a cab anywhere. Of course, there were none, so I decided to take a shortcut through the alley, you know”—I blinked—“well, no you don’t. But whatever happened that you had to help me, thank you. I, uh, don’t … Can we talk about it later? It’s kind of raw and unclear to me.”

  “Of course. How about food? Stuart can make us something to eat. Come out to the kitchen.”

  I reached out to take his arm, then quickly removed my hand. “I’m glad you found me, Marshall, but how?”

  “This guy called me and said he was staying at the Orion Hotel. I guess he was the one who found, ah, saved you. As soon as I got the call, I ran over there to get you.” His words came out in a rush.

  “I need to thank him. What time is it?”

  “Just after ten. Do you want me to call your family or anyone? I know you’re living here but that you’re from America.” He pushed his thumb and forefinger at the bridge of his nose.

  “I-I don’t want to be a burden to you or anyone for that matter. But no, there’s no one who needs to be called. My dad and I don’t exactly get along. At all. That’s a story for another day.” I shrugged my shoulders and wanted to curl further into my shell. I tried not to because I knew Marshall was a good person. “But this guy, I have to thank him.”

  Something in my voice must have made him take me seriously. He reached over and gave me a hug. “Okay, let’s go. Maybe we can make it before he checks out. Let me tell Stuart.”

  “Oh, god, I’m sorry I put you both out. I feel really terrible.” Why hadn’t I just taken a cab?

  He came back a few minutes later. “Okay, my driver’s downstairs, so let’s go and see what we can do.”

  “Stuart’s okay with all this? I’m sorry.”

  “Quit apologizing. I told you before that I’ll always be here for you in any way I can.” He patted me on the back.

  “Okay. Yeah, thanks.” I followed Marshall down the stairs and grimaced as I painfully climbed into the car with him. He gave an address to the driver while I stared out the window. In a sliver of light that had come through the window, I got a glance of my face. It wasn’t overly terrible, but I was a twenty-two-year-old model, working here in the United Kingdom on a contract, and my career depended on my looks, after all. What would they do if I wasn’t available for
weeks?

  “It’ll heal, I promise. Looks worse than it is,” I heard across the car, as if he had read my mind. “Plus, think of how they work magic with makeup these days.”

  “Thanks, I guess I was lucky. Just shocking to see, you know?”

  Sitting in the car with Marshall felt rather strange. Apart from what was happening right now, I was in awe of him. He was so brave to come out and be his true self in this industry—and to put a positive spin on it as well. I’d followed his career before all that, had seen him in the spotlight when he was younger and read the stories about how he’d risen to the top of his game.

  I still had years ahead of me and would need to prove that too. While I was shy and quiet until I got to know someone and could trust them, it was a completely different story in front of the camera. Once I was in the zone, a new side of me came to life. I couldn’t even explain the transformation. I imagined it was something like a drag queen when they changed into their drag persona.

  I almost jumped out of my skin when Marshall tapped my knee and snapped me out of my thoughts. “That’s us here. You okay?”

  “Yes, sorry. Just deep in thought,” I replied, letting out a nervous breath. On instinct, I held his arm before we got out. “Thank you.”

  He looked at me with trust and understanding, and I knew right then that we’d grow to be great friends. “Come on. No need to thank me.” At the front desk, Marshall did most of the talking, and for that I was grateful. It had all become a whirlwind of events and a bit overwhelming.

  “Hello”—he looked at the girl’s name tag—“Siobhan. We’re looking for our friend. He was staying in room six forty-two.” Then he pointed to the elevator. “Can we just go up?”

  “Sir.” She blushed and batted her eyelashes at him. I rolled my eyes, though she didn’t notice, as all eyes were on him. “What is the name and I can connect you,” she replied politely after getting her wits about her.

  He looked at me and I returned his blank stare. Then he put his hand up to Siobhan. “Give us a moment, please.”

  We walked a few steps out of earshot before we spoke. “Do you remember? Did he give you his name at the time? I think he told me when I came to get you, but I honestly don’t remember. I was so focused on getting to you. I’m surprised I even knew the room number just now.”

  I shook my head, feeling ridiculous. “I’m an idiot.”

  He bent to look at me. “No, you aren’t. Listen, a lot went on. We’ll figure something else out.”

  Siobhan suddenly appeared next to us. “Ah, gentlemen, that room has checked out already, so you’d probably do best to contact your friend directly.”

  My shoulders sagged unintentionally.

  Marshall turned to thank her and then back to me. “Well, that’s that. I guess you’ll just need to remember the kindness of a stranger.”

  We walked outside to the waiting car, then got in and headed back to Marshall and Stuart’s place. Back inside and sitting at their table, I suddenly felt hungrier than I had in a long time, as if I hadn’t eaten in days. Stuart put a large plate of food down in front of me. It was a real English breakfast: sausages, eggs, beans, tomatoes, and toast.

  I could overhear Marshall on the phone. It sounded like he was reporting my incident to the police, and from his side of the conversation, he was receiving a police report number, but it didn’t sound too promising.

  4

  OLLIE

  I was practicing pliés at the barre by the front of the room with the floor to ceiling windows when I heard a door open behind me.

  Then Juliette tackled me. “Come on. We need to go soon. Take a break.”

  “Go where?”

  “Didn’t you check your phone? Your brother wants to take us out to dinner.” Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. I waited for her to swoon over him right there before me.

  “Really? He’s in Edinburgh too?” My eyebrows rose in suspicion. The last time I had seen him was when he invited to me to some party and then proceeded to boast how he was the best brother: stronger, better looking, and older and wiser.

  I rolled my shoulders but really wanted to roll my eyes. “Okay, I’m coming.”

  At least Juliette would be there, sort of like a buffer. I went back to our room to get changed and then we walked down the cobblestone street towards the restaurant.

  “You could look more excited,” she said, pinching my cheeks and trying to upturn my

  mouth.

  “There’ll be pasta!” I exclaimed. “But really, you know Jasper, he always has an ulterior motive.”

  She could never see anything wrong with him. “Oh, don’t let that party still get to you. That was months ago.”

  We reached the door of the Italian restaurant, so there was no time for more discussion. I expected us to be sandwiched in between his bigwig industry friends, but there was just a table of eight or ten people.

  “Ollie, Juliette, welcome.” Jasper came over and gave us a hug. Juliette hung on longer than what was probably necessary, but he didn’t seem too fazed by it. He pointed to a nearby table. “So happy to see you. It’s been far too long. Sit down here.”

  Juliette knew of our tense relationship, and I was genuinely regretting why I had agreed to come but plastered a fake smile on my face anyway. She proceeded to squeeze my arm so hard, I almost yelped.

  After we sat down, Jasper hardly acknowledged me, but I made some smalltalk with others at the table. They were excited to hear that we were dancers and asked about our next stage show. I still couldn’t entirely figure out why we were here, and whenever I tried to catch Jasper’s eye, he avoided me.

  As soon as Juliette wafted some garlic-infused bread in front of me, all those thoughts were forgotten, and I enjoyed the rest of the evening.

  “I’ll be out the front,” she called to me, partially shoving me towards Jasper’s way. Great, I thought.

  He was in a corner and looked happy, which was unusual compared to his moody on-stage persona. He reached out and held my arm. “I need to talk to you.” Then, someone bustled in and insisted he come and sign some autographs for the waitress.

  I moved foot to foot. “I better get to, ah, Juliette.” My gut instinct told me he wanted something, but the look he’d had for a moment almost had me fooled as if he really wanted to confide in me. I shook my head and left.

  We skipped hand in hand back to the hotel—after a few glasses of wine. “Nice of your brother to treat us.”

  I merely nodded.

  “What? It was.”

  “Yes, but I’m sure he had an ulterior motive.”

  She elbowed me as she often seemed to do. “Let it be. He was in town for the tour and wanted to see you. Anyway, come back to the room. We can watch some trashy television, and you can tell me about your hookup last night.” The grin on her face was naughty.

  “Oh, I do have something to tell you, but it’s not what you think.” With that, I stepped ahead and then leaped in a dance move and jogged the last few steps.

  Back in our room, I’d just put on my pyjamas so I’d be comfortable, and now I wanted to practice, but Juliette forbade me. “No, listen. You know all the steps. No more tonight.” Then she abruptly pulled me down with her and handed me a bottle of water.

  “So, last night. What happened?”

  “Okay, right, so I went to that small music venue that’s not far from the hotel. A folk music group was playing there. One guy caught my attention, blah, blah, blah, then invited me to the VIP area and gave me a blow job … lacklustre, unfortunately. And then”—I looked at her with wide eyes—“the owner came over, who was also his boyfriend, I’d later found out. So, I left. Fast. I wasn’t getting involved in a mess like that. Then, as I was walking back to the hotel, I saw this guy on the ground by the alleyway. Oh Juliette, he looked horrible. He was beaten up, so I brought him back—”

  She slapped me. “What? You didn’t. What if he was a murderer or something?”

  “Come on. Please, Ju
les. He was scared, absolutely terrified, and hardly moving. So, yeah, I brought him back and cleaned him up, and well, it was nice. But no, not like any hot hook up where I could show a man my flexibility.” I batted my eyelashes and then closed my eyes for a moment. “Actually, I hope he’s okay.”

  “You.” She pointed accusingly at me.

  I wasn’t sure what that meant.

  “Did you get his name and stuff? Maybe you can contact him.” Without even asking me, Juliette went to the kitchenette, grabbed popcorn for herself and handed me some chips. A routine like only best friends could have.

  “No, I never got it. But this seriously handsome man, not that the injured guy wasn’t, but his friend, I guess … I called him after I looked in my mystery guy’s hoodie and found his phone, and he came to get him. Ah, what was his name again? It was on the phone log.” I snapped my fingers. “Martin or Markell.”

  She threw popcorn at me. “That’s really narrowed it down,” she said, sarcastically, pulling out her phone. “I can search online for all the Martins in London.” Then her fingers were flying across the screen, and I knew if she wasn’t looking for every Martin in the UK, she was either off in her own world, probably playing a game on an online app, or swiping left or right on Tinder.

  “The little bit we’d spoken, he had an American accent. A tourist maybe. Poor guy. He could be back in America or on his way back for all I know. I hope he gets enough rest first.” I spoke my thoughts out loud, though I couldn’t be sure she was listening.

  Not long afterwards, we went to bed. I woke early the next morning to stretch and practice. After showering and eating some tea and toast, I found myself in the practice room. It was typically used by a local dance group, but for now, we had it to ourselves.

  I remember sitting in my mum’s house when I was about ten years old, and a movie had come on with lots of dancing. My brother had been laughing and calling it lame, but I’d sat on the floor, cross-legged, completely mesmerized. It was then that I knew I wanted to be a dancer. The bond I’d felt at that moment had possibly bordered on obsession. Thinking back on it, my mum had always supported me to a fault.