Ch.9: The Pancake Shack

Don answered on the second ring, assured me he was on his way, and arrived outside the building within ten minutes. Despite what Elle had said about Jude's reasons for having a driver, there was a definite luxury in having people at your beck and call like this. Maybe that was why so many celebs turned into divas.

The second we left the building, Elle turned sharp and brisk, grabbing my elbow and pulling me to the car at a near-run. She bundled me inside, like I'd done to Jude the first time we met, then climbed in after me and slammed the door.

The car started moving.

"What was that?" I asked, rubbing my elbow where her fingers had dug in. Elle was stronger than she looked.

She slumped in her seat and gave a little sigh. "Sorry, but I saw a sneaky bastard with a camera hanging around. If you and Jude want to keep this secret, we need to keep you out of the papers."

I twisted around to peer through the tinted window. "I didn't see anyone."

"That's because you don't have years of experience sniffing them out."

But if I stayed married to Jude, that was something I might have to learn.

As Don drove us to Brentford, my chest started to tighten and my stomach felt heavy. Once again, the two halves of what my life had become were drawing together, only this time it felt as though they were clashing into each other.

I didn't want to see Jake.

I didn't want to see Kelly.

I didn't want to come back to this place, especially so soon after everything that had happened.

But my only other option was to abandon everything I owned, and I wasn't prepared to do that either.

Suck it up, buttercup.

Don parked close to the block of flats where Jake lived, and my stomach dropped even further. I'd never live here again, I knew that, but even if I found my own place, it would be just as small. I wasn't spoiled, and I didn't think I deserved things that I couldn't afford, but a couple of days in Jude's loft had already changed so much for me. It would be very hard to return to reality after the glittering taste of his world.

"Do you need me to come in with you?" Don asked.

"Thanks, but we've got this," said Elle breezily.

"You don't have to come," I said.

"Why wouldn't I?" Elle said.

"Because . . ."

Because she didn't know me?

Because this wasn't her problem?

"Camden, I'm not letting you face the fucknugget who cheated on you, without backup," Elle said. Her eyes glinted fiercely.

We climbed out of the car and walked, side by side, into the block of flats. Even though her tailored clothes and high heels made her look taller, Elle was only a slip of a woman, definitely not the kind of person you'd think of as backup, and yet something about her was strong as iron.

It wasn't just her clothing, I realised. She had a presence, an energy that made her seem larger than life. As we entered the dingy lobby – no potted plants and suited doorman here – she looked like a butterfly, bright and beautiful against a backdrop of grey.

"Which floor?" she asked.

"Seven. Sorry, the lift doesn't work so it's a bit of a hike."

Elle gave me an oh please look. "Do you have any idea how many squats my personal trainer makes me do in one session? Seven flights of stairs isn't even a warmup for these buns of steel." She slapped her own butt.

I giggled. "Even in heels?"

"Watch me go." Elle took the stairs like a pro, jogging up each step, and her heels didn't slow her down at all – I had to rush to keep up.

"Your PT is obviously worth every penny," I said, as we reached the seventh floor.

"Maybe I'll introduce you. You could do some workouts with me," Elle said.

"I'd like that."

Maybe it was another aspect of Jude's world that I shouldn't get used to because it could all be snatched away by the end of the month, but I'd be a fool for passing on opportunities that I might not get again.

My heart lurched into my throat as we stopped outside Jake's door. The last time I'd been here, I'd been storming out, my carryon luggage in one hand, Jake's passport in the other. He hadn't even come after me.

In some ways, that hurt as much as the cheating itself.

"Who's got your stuff?" Elle asked, looking at the doors around her.

She looked completely out of place here but, bless her, she didn't turn up her nose or pull a face at the threadbare carpet, the water-stains on the ceiling, or the smell of old Chinese food that always lingered in the building.

"Mrs. Shields." I pointed at her door, directly opposite Jake's.

Elle knocked. Her watch caught the flickering light overhead and reflected in my eyes, making them hurt.

No one answered.

Elle knocked again.

Nothing.

"Do you have her number?" Elle asked.

"Yeah." I called her, but there was no answer, and no sound of the phone ringing from inside the flat. "She must be out."

"Do you want to wait for her?"

The knot in my chest pulled a little tighter. "No. The longer we hang around, the more chance there is of running into Jake."

"I could push him down the stairs for you," Elle offered. "I'm rich and pretty; I could get away with it."

I laughed, then clapped my hand over my mouth, in case Jake was home and heard me.

"I think I'll have to come back another day," I said.

Elle linked her arm with mine. "How about I treat you to some brunch then?"

"That would be amazing."

***

Don drove us to a place called the Pancake Shack, a small brunch spot in Canary Wharf, overlooking the Thames.

"First pizza, now pancakes. I'm starting to wonder how you keep your figure," I teased, as we climbed out of the car.

"This place specialises in healthy brunches," Elle explained.

"Healthy pancakes?" I was dubious about that.

"Delicious healthy pancakes."

We found a seat in the corner, away from the windows, and ordered a plate of pancakes and a drink each, which arrived so quickly that I wondered if Elle's fame had played a part. Most successful eateries knew how to get food out on time, but did they try even harder if they were cooking for a celebrity? There were so many things about Elle and Jude's world that I didn't know.

Elle wasn't wrong about the pancakes. I took one bite from my stack, topped with fresh, dewy berries, and almost moaned.

"Told you," Elle said smugly.

"These are amazing."

Elle skewered a runaway blueberry with her fork. "Best pancakes in London, as far as I'm concerned."

We ate in silence for a few moments, but questions were gathering in my head, rapidly picking up speed until I knew I couldn't hold them back.

"Can I ask you something and get a really honest reply?" I said.

Elle paused, her expression cautious. "That depends on what you ask. Try me."

"What was it like when you were with Jude?"

Elle almost choked on a strawberry.

"Too blunt?" I said.

She dabbed at her lips with a linen napkin. "No, just unexpected. I've met several of Jude's girlfriends since we broke up, and most of them have seen me as some kind of threat."

"But you broke up two years ago."

"I know. The problem is that a lot of women don't see Jude as a man. They see him as a prize to be won, or a trophy to brag about. Some of them don't like that I claimed that trophy ahead of them, and some of them really don't like that I'm still such an important part of Jude's life. We both know that he's a good-looking guy, so he'll always have women throwing themselves at him. But his fame and his money make some people treat him differently."

"Is that why you were hostile to me when we first met? It wasn't just because of this stalker thing, was it?"

"No," Elle admitted. "Just as some women want the bragging rights of getting the hottest guy in rock, others see him as nothing more than a bank account. If you're rich, there'll always be gold-diggers sniffing around, both men and women. It's sad, but it's life."

"You thought maybe I was just after his money," I said, remembering the way Jude's expression had darkened back in that Vegas hotel room, when he warned me that I wasn't his ticket to a quick buck.

"It was always a possibility. Jude's not stupid, he knows how many people see him like this, but he's also human, and you're very beautiful. Sometimes a pretty face can make all common sense fly out the window. But back to your original question. I'm not sure how to answer it, because I'm not entirely clear what you're asking."

"It's way too early to know if this trial month stands a chance of working out, but I do like him. I guess I'm just wondering how much my life might change if he's in it."

Elle carefully cut a piece of pancake and put it in her mouth while she considered my words. "I'm not sure I'm the right person to answer that. Being in a relationship with someone famous always comes with downsides, but your experience of that will be different to mine because I've dated famous guys before, but also because I'm famous myself. I know what to expect."

"So what should I expect?" I asked.

"A whole lot of crazy," Elle said.

I started to laugh, then stopped when I saw Elle's grave expression.

"I'm serious," she said. "Most fans know that their crush on Jude is nothing but a fantasy. The ones who take it too far are in the minority, but when someone is as famous as Jude, that minority is still a lot of people. They're the ones who get lost in their fantasies, who sincerely believe that all they have to do is run into Jude on the street and he'll fall madly in love with them."

"I ran into him on the street and a few hours later I was married to him," I pointed out.

Elle pointed her fork at me. "Exactly. The chances of something like that happening are miniscule, but it does happen, and that fuels these fans' delusions. Social media makes fans feel closer to their idols. It gives them a chance to interact with us and see aspects of our lives in a way they couldn't always do, and that can give them the illusion of actually knowing us, or thinking that we're their friends."

She looked down at her plate. "That false sense of familiarity can turn ugly. These fans get too tangled in their fantasy world, and they don't like it when something brings them back to reality. Like their idol getting a new girlfriend. Suddenly she's the thing standing between them and their dreams.

'When Jude and I started dating, there were people who blamed me for him not being with them. We're not talking about genuinely unhinged stalkers either. We're talking about completely ordinary people. Every day I'd get tagged or directly messaged by people on social media, threatening to kill me if I hurt Jude, telling me I wasn't good enough for him, making horrible comments about my appearance, my hair, my clothes, my music, my personal life, speculating that I was too stupid for him, or that I wouldn't be able to satisfy him in bed."

My face must have reflected some of the alarm I was feeling, because Elle sighed and put down her fork.

"Look, Camden, I'm not trying to scare you off, but I really think you need to be aware of the reality of this situation. Knowing Jude, it won't occur to him to warn you because we're both used to this shit by now, but if people find out that you and Jude are married, then you'll get the same abuse that I did – probably worse. I, at least, have millions of fans who'll jump to my defence if they see someone being a dick to me or about me online, but you don't have that buffer. If you and Jude are serious about making this marriage work, then you need to be aware that being with someone famous isn't always sunshine and roses."

"Equally, I won't know the reality of it unless I live it," I said.

"That's true," Elle acknowledged. She smiled. "I've always hoped that Jude would settle down one day, and maybe now he will."

"I really appreciate you being honest with me," I said.

"I believe in being honest with my friends."

"Can I ask you something else?" I said, pushing around a piece of pancake with my fork.

"Go for it."

"Do you know what happened with Darrell Deal?"

Elle took a moment to reply, sipping delicately at her glass mug of green tea. "You probably already know that Darrell and Jude used to be best friends. Angels & Demons was Jude's brainchild, but he'd be the first to agree that Darrell helped him every step of the way."

I thought back to the first Angels & Demons music video I'd ever seen, with Jude and Darrell tearing up the stage in leather pants, shirtless and tattooed and wild. I'd known immediately that this band was something special; it hadn't seemed possible that, just a year later, Darrell would be out of the picture.

"That first year in the limelight, they really lived the sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll lifestyle," Elle continued.

I smiled ruefully. "Yeah, I've seen the photos."

Angels & Demons were a throwback to the days when deranged rockstars blazed through the world like tornados, heedless of the damage they left in their wake, and the media had devoured every second of them.

Fans throwing their bras at Jude, and Jude draping them over his microphone while he carried on singing, Darrell passed out in a bathtub, still hugging his guitar, Jude lounging in the tour bus, surrounded by empty whisky bottles, his eyes bleary and unfocused, Darrell in a hot tub, surrounded by naked models, traces of cocaine still clinging to his nostrils, the video of Jude launching himself into a female mud wrestling ring and emerging with one of the wrestler's bikini tops between his teeth – I'd seen it all and more.

"Jude's drug use has only ever been recreational. He still drinks and smokes weed, but I don't think he touches anything harder these days, and that's because of Darrell. It stopped being recreational for Darrell pretty quick, but Jude didn't notice until it was too late."

"Darrell's an addict," I said.

"Yeah. Jude finally woke up when he realised that Darrell was becoming a danger to himself and others."

"How did he realise that?" I asked.

"Darrell treated himself to a Lamborghini and that same afternoon, he crashed it at one hundred miles an hour while high out of his mind on coke and speed." Elle waited a beat. "He crashed it right into a café."

"Shit, I remember hearing about that," I said. "No one was hurt, were they?"

"Luckily no one was standing there at the time, or they would've been killed. Darrell managed to walk away with just a couple of broken ribs. But it made Jude realise that Darrell was out of control and needed help."

"So he kicked him out of the band?"

"No, he sent him to rehab. Jude paid for everything, and Darrell promised to get clean, but the second he got out, he started using again. Jude tried and tried to help him, but Darrell didn't want to be helped, and in the end, Jude had no choice but to kick him out."

"What about Steve and Tom?" I asked, thinking of the original bassist and drummer.

"They didn't embrace the lifestyle like Jude and Darrell did, and I think it all got too much for them, too fast. Practically overnight they went from nobodies to world-famous rockstars, and that can be indescribably overwhelming. Not everyone can cope. Darrell went off the rails so fast, and there was so much media speculation that Jude would go the same way. As far as I know, Steve and Tom just decided that this wasn't the life they wanted, after all. They chose to leave the band, and they've lived under the radar ever since. Neither of them even talk to Jude anymore."

"How does Jude feel about that?"

Elle shrugged. "He accepts their choice. He wanted to make it to the top, and he did. He's not giving that up for anyone."

"If Darrell got clean, would Jude let him back in the band?"

Elle pursed her lips. "I don't know. Even after kicking him out, Jude tried to stay in contact. He still wanted to help Darrell. He put up with so much abuse when Darrell was on a bender, and after Darrell blew most of his own money on drugs, drink, and girls, he started stealing from the loft to support his drug habit. Jude turned a blind eye to that. Darrell was more important to him than physical possessions. But then Darrell started selling private photos and stories about Jude, including things that Jude had told him in confidence. Eventually Jude had no choice but to cut him off completely. I know he regrets how things ended between them, but what was he supposed to do?"

"He never talks about it. After the initial line-up broke down, so many people said it must be Jude's fault because he was the only one left in the band. Why didn't he ever tell anyone the truth? Why is he still protecting Darrell?" I asked.

"Because he's a better man than Darrell. Jude doesn't blame Darrell for his addiction, but he does blame him for refusing to get help. He does blame him for all the crap that Darrell still does."

"Like what?"

"Like turning up at the studio and abusing the current members of the band, or leaving angry voicemails on Jude's phone. He's gone after Don, and Neil, the band manager a couple of times. He's even accosted me."

I still barely knew Elle, but already I felt a hot wave of fury at the thought of anyone threatening or intimidating her.

"Can't anyone stop him?" I asked.

Elle gave a graceful little shrug. "Darrell's all talk. He'd never actually hurt anyone."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Jude would kick the absolute shit out of him if he ever laid a hand on anyone," Elle said confidently.

Still, I hated the thought that Jude had to deal with a crazy stalker and an angry, out of control ex-bandmate at the same time. He'd told me he never took anything seriously, but how much of that was real and how much was his rockstar persona?

"I want to do something nice for him tonight," I said.

Elle leaned back in her chair and appraised me, a soft expression on her face.

"What?" I said.

"Every other girlfriend Jude's had has been more interested in what he can do for them than what they can do for him."

"Well, I'm not like that. I'm interested in the man behind the band."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Maybe cook him dinner? Would he like that?" I said.

A warm smile crept across Elle's face. "Yeah, I think he really would."