This is the final chapter of a story about a young woman who finds fifteen minutes of fame, but wants more...
CHAPTER SIX — FIFTEEN MINUTES
Confrontation
Madison was furious as she jerked her silver BMW convertible to a halt. Everything was going so well in her life and now this. What the fuck did Ralph think he was up to? She pressed the bell on the stone pillar and waited for the gates that guarded her boyfriend's country house to judder open.
Flicking open the paper on the passenger seat beside her, she glared again at the photograph of Ralph and one of those two blonde twins. Both were drunk, that was for sure. You could tell that by their bleary look in their eyes.
She had lingerie that covered more than the girl's outfit. What a slut!
From what she could gather, it fitted her and her sister's reputation. Joanne and Julia Driscoll, the two twins from Britain's Got Talent, had spent the last couple of months proving that they didn't have any. Except for their hot little bodies. From what Madison had heard, they thought nothing of sharing those bodies with anyone who could give them a step up the ladder...
That thought made her shudder. Her lapse with Jonathon Roberts didn't exactly make her a saint. And the bastard hadn't kept his promise to feature her on his chat show. How naive had she been, giving in to him as easily as she had? Letting him fuck her, too! That's what made her feel really mad with herself.
A blow job was one thing, but going all the way had been dumb!
As the gates parted, she eased the car forward and purred along the tree lined drive. The house she and Peaches had bought nine months ago was impressive enough, but nothing compared to Ralph's mansion. There seemed to be no limit to the amount of money that footballers earned nowadays.
Heading around the curve that led to the large courtyard, she glared down at the photograph again. How could he do that to her? She'd been carrying out a personal appearance in Cardiff and when they'd spoken, Ralph had told her that he and a few teammates were heading out for a quiet meal.
One that had apparently led them to the Fantasy nightclub. The article suggested that the photo had been taken at half past two in the morning.
"Stupid bastard," she said aloud as she parked the BMW beside Ralph's red Porsche. She looked around at the well manicured lawns that ran off the courtyard, attempting to compose herself before she headed for the door. Let's not make a scene. Not until she understood what he'd been up to and whether he and this Driscoll twin had been an item that night.
Still trying to contain her feelings, she grabbed the newspaper and slammed the car door closed behind her. She took the steps up to the front door two at a time and rang the bell, her foot tapping in frustration on the welcoming mat as she waited.
She was passed him before he'd finish opening the door. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of tracksuit bottoms and the dark marks around his eyes were clear evidence of his late night. Her brown eyes flashed as she stomped along the hall and then angrily swung back.
"Have you seen this?" she shouted before he could speak, pushing the newspaper in his face. So much for not making a scene.
He took it from her and stared silently at the photo for a few seconds. "Not that one," he casually told her. "But if you go in the lounge, the Daily News has a similar picture and Newtown Today has a different angle. You'd think they'd have something better to do with their time, wouldn't you?"
"You're in all the papers?"
"Seems like it," he shrugged, tossing the newspaper onto a chair and pushing her in front of him towards the luxury kitchen at the far end of the corridor. "Coffee?"
She felt hysteria creeping in as she shrugged his hand from her arm. How could he treat it so casually? He could at least have shown some consideration for her feelings. It wasn't difficult to appreciate how upset she was.
"Listen—"
"Don't!" he snapped, leaning back against the breakfast bar. "Not now, Maddy."
"Don't?" she repeated. Her voice was barely a whisper. It grew stronger. "Don't? Don't fucking what, Ralph?" She was shouting now. How dare he treat her like this?
He waved an airy-fairy arm in the air and dropped two headache tablets into a tumbler of water beside him. "Don't make a big thing out of it," he quietly said. "My head is absolutely thumping."
"Fuck off, Ralph," she rasped, turning on her heels and heading back along the corridor. Okay, her attitude might be unreasonable but if he didn't want to discuss it there was only one conclusion.
"Maddy, hold on. Let's talk about this!" he shouted as he followed her out of the house. His voice was more urgent now.
"Talk about it?" she snapped, stopping halfway to her car and swinging around. "That's what I came here to do..."
"I know, I know," he responded, swallowing the drink and then throwing the tumbler across the gravelled yard. He covered the distance between them and wrapped his strong arms around her. "I'm sorry. It's just..."
"Just what?" She had tears in her eyes now. "What were you doing at that fucking club, Ralph? Especially at that time?"
"That's what my Manager's asking," he softly said, holding her against his chest and stroking her black hair. "It's a fucking nightmare."
"Tell me!" Her voice was shrill. She didn't care what his fucking Manager was asking. She wanted to know!
"Come inside."
She shook her head and stared up into his bleary eyes. "No, tell me first," she petulantly said. "Then I'll decide if I want to come inside."
His hand went to her cheek and brushed a tear away. "It was Paddy Johnston's birthday," he explained, his voice suddenly soft and comforting. "The lads suggested going to the club when the meal finished. I said no at first but you know what it's like. So I went."
Her tear stained eyes stared up into his. That had a ring of truth to it—he was easily led. "And?"
"And we had too much to drink, as usual. It just happened, Maddy. One thing led to another, you know. Mind you, nothing went on. There were the usual women around us but I swear nothing happened."
