He’s The One Katie Price
Published by Century 2013 2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1 Copyright © Katie Price 2013; Rebecca Farnworth 2013 Katie Price and Rebecca Farnworth have asserted their right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the authors of this work. This book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. First published in Great Britain in 2013 by Century Century Random House, 20 Vauxhall Bridge Road, London SW1V 2SA www.rbooks.co.uk Addresses for companies within The Random House Group Limited can be found at: www.randomhouse.co.uk/offices.htm The Random House Group Limited Reg. No. 954009 A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Hardback ISBN 9781846059599 Trade paperback ISBN 9781846059605 The Random House Group Limited supports the Forest Stewardship Council® (FSC®), the leading international forest-certification organisation. Our books carrying the FSC label are printed on FSC®-certified paper. FSC is the only forest-certification scheme supported by the leading environmental organisations, including Greenpeace. Our paper procurement policy can be found at: www.randomhouse.co.uk/environment
Printed and bound in Great Britain by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4YY
Part 1
Chapter 1
June 1999 Liberty was not having a good day. Her daughter Brooke had been up all the night before with a raging temperature, which meant Liberty barely had an hour’s sleep. She had started her shift at the restaurant – a popular Italian in Brighton – feeling like a zombie and no doubt looking like one too. And of all nights it would be a Saturday – the busiest of the week. She wouldn’t finish until after midnight. She plastered on her best, Hi, I’m your waitress, can I help you? smile, which felt more like a grimace, and went over to the table by the window. There were six twenty-somethings sitting there, a mix of young men and women all out to enjoy themselves. Most likely they were going on to a club afterwards, or a film, or a party. Lucky, lucky them . . . Liberty tried not to let it get to her, but it had been a very long time since she’d been anywhere other than to her friend Em’s with a cheap bottle of wine and a video from Blockbusters. She was only twenty-one and sometimes felt that her mum, who was in her early-forties, had a far better
3
social life than she did. Plus she had a boyfriend, which was more than Liberty did. She may as well be wearing a sign round her neck that said, Single, loser, game over, because that was pretty much how she felt. ‘Hi, are you all ready to order?’ She was obviously wearing her invisibility cloak as they continued chatting, oblivious to her standing there. She was used to this as a waitress: you were either ignored or leered at. Very occasionally someone was actually polite. She sighed and pulled the notepad out of the pocket of her black apron. If they didn’t get on with it she was likely to fall asleep standing up. She’d have to down a Red Bull to try and wake herself up, or a double espresso, or both. Finally a young man noticed her. ‘Guys, we should order. Sorry to keep you waiting.’ His accent was American. He smiled at Liberty and, even feeling like one of the living dead she registered how strikingly handsome he was, with blue, blue eyes and dark blond hair. He had the look of a twentysomething Brad Pitt in Thelma and Louise – a film which she and Em had watched many times, rewinding a particular scene involving Mr Pitt. He was boyishly handsome and radiated confidence, his smile a reminder that life didn’t have to be so grim. ‘No problem at all.’ She smiled back, the most genuine smile she had managed all day. But hang on, she didn’t have a pen. She patted her pocket and felt around the neckline of her t-shirt. Bollocks! She was for ever losing pens. It drove Marco the manager absolutely crazy. Good-looking gestured to his own face. What was he on about? Did she have a mark on her? Knowing her luck it would be a glob of Playdough courtesy of her daughter. She had once worked an entire shift
4
with half a breadstick in her hair, which Brooke had stuck there without her realizing. Not her best look. He tapped his ear. Oh, so that’s where her pen was. Nice of him to notice. Liberty took down their orders for garlic bread – the men; green salad, no dressing – the three women; various pastas, pizzas, beers and wine and stifled a yawn. Shit, she ought to look more alert. At this rate she would end up with zero tips and she relied on the money from those to boost her low wages. ‘How many hours have you got to go?’ Good-looking asked her sympathetically. Nice of him to ask. Ninetynine point nine per cent of her customers wouldn’t have. ‘Oh, I’ll finish about midnight.’ God, that was hours away! ‘Unlucky. And Saturday night as well.’ Liberty shrugged. Yeah, like she had so many other exciting places to be. She always worked on Saturday nights. The blonde girl next to Good-looking was listening intently to their conversation; she was probably wondering why her boyfriend was talking to a mere waitress. ‘Cory, can you order me a bottle of sparkling mineral water?’ the blonde asked in a cut-glass accent. She had beautiful tanned skin and glossy honeyblonde hair. Everything about her looked expensive. She drummed immaculately manicured nails on the table as she spoke. Liberty curled her fingers round her notepad. She had intended to paint her nails today but, when she’d finally sat down, Brooke had wanted to make cats out of Playdough and so Liberty was still wearing chipped pink nail varnish. She had at least managed to wash her hair, but with no time to dry it had tied it back in a messy ponytail. She thought she
5
might have put some mascara on, when she was on autopilot getting ready for her shift, but that was it, bar some lip balm. He grinned at Liberty. ‘I guess you heard that. A bottle of sparkling mineral water, please.’ Cory . . . that was an unusual name, Liberty mused as she rushed back to the pass with the orders. She rather liked it. Though it hardly mattered what she thought. Good-looking Cory had a girlfriend. But when she took the drinks over, and was pouring out glasses of wine, he again made a point of talking to her. ‘So do you work here all the time . . .’ he read her name badge . . . ‘Liberty? Cool name. Unusual.’ Embarrassing actually. Her mum Nina had wanted something striking for her daughter, but Liberty didn’t think the name suited her at all. It seemed a big name for someone with such a small life. And, ironically, her mum and lots of her friends had ended up calling her Libs. ‘Part-time.’ ‘So what else do you do?’ Blondie was giving her the evil eye. ‘Well, I want to be an actress and I sometimes get modelling jobs.’ She tried not to think about how long ago it was since she had done any modelling . . . or how long since she’d had an audition. ‘Is this the Sauvignon Blanc we ordered?’ the blonde interrupted, holding up her glass. ‘It tastes funny.’ Liberty steeled herself for an argument. She knew there was nothing wrong with the wine, it was one of the most expensive ones on the list, but probably not good enough for high-maintenance Blondie. Cory picked up her glass and took a sip. ‘It’s fine, Zara. You had that glass of champagne earlier, so it’s
6
probably the contrast.’ He looked at Liberty again. ‘So you’re an actress and a model?’ he continued. ‘I just knew it with your looks.’ He lowered his voice slightly. ‘You really do have the most incredible eyes I have ever seen.’ Liberty frowned. He was handsome and charming, and she appreciated the nice things he’d said – God knows they had been thin on the ground lately – but it was completely out of order for him to be saying those things when his girlfriend could hear everything. ‘Thanks, but maybe you’d better save your compliments for your girlfriend.’ And before he could reply Liberty whisked away to serve another table. Wanker! Coming on to her with the girl sitting right next to him. Unbelievable! She should be used to it by now – only last week some sleaze bag had written down his phone number on the receipt, while his wife was sitting there entertaining their toddler with a picture book. She didn’t even look at Cory when she returned to their table with the garlic bread and salads and he didn’t say anything. He must have realised that he’d overstepped the mark. But when she was on her way to the bar to collect a drinks order he caught up with her. ‘Hey, I really didn’t mean to offend you.’ ‘Don’t worry about me.’ Liberty folded her arms defensively. ‘What about your girlfriend?’ Cory shook his head. ‘I don’t have one. That’s Zara, she’s my ex-girlfriend. We’re just friends now.’ He might think that, but Liberty doubted Zara felt the same. He slid his hands into his pockets, and gazed at her. ‘And I don’t usually do this, but you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.’ He sounded completely genuine and Liberty
7
wasn’t easily taken in. Wow! Suddenly all the noise surrounding them – the chatter of the diners, the clinking of glasses, Celine Dion singing that her heart would go on – seemed to recede, until it was just the two of them, looking at each other. She was lost for words. ‘Look, I know you’re working, but a friend of mine is having a party and it will still be going on when you finish. I’d really like it if you came,’ he was saying. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d gone to a party. Well, one that wasn’t a children’s party, that didn’t involve Pass the Parcel, Musical Bumps, and at least two toddler tantrums plus all of the guests having a major sugar rush. Her mum would be cool with her staying out, Brooke was better and Liberty wasn’t due back at work until twelve the following day. Why not go to the party? She never did anything impulsive any more, her whole life revolved around her daughter and work. ‘I’d really like it if you came,’ Cory repeated. ‘Who am I kidding? I’d love it.’ She smiled at him. How could she resist that? ‘Okay, sure.’ She got a smile right back. ‘You’ve just made my night.’ He took a piece of paper out of his wallet and scribbled down the address and his phone number. ‘Liberty! Can you go and sort out table six? They’re saying they didn’t order the Puttanesca . . . one of them is allergic to anchovies apparently,’ Marco cut across their conversation. And just like that the moment was gone. Cory returned to his table and Liberty went back to work, but she felt a spark of excitement at the thought of seeing him later. She hadn’t felt like this for ages, and though the customers at table six were grumpy, her good mood seemed to calm them down.
8
Her friend Em, who also worked at the restaurant, insisted that Liberty come round to her place later on to borrow something to wear for the party. Liberty had known her since the age of three when they’d gone to the same nursery school. Em wanted to be a photographer and lived with her boyfriend Noah, an Aussie doing the travelling thing. Liberty kept dreading that Em was going to say she was moving to Australia with him. Em was her best, best friend; she had been such an incredible support when Liberty had found out she was pregnant with Brooke, and had always been there for her. Life without her was unimaginable. While Em rifled through her wardrobe, pulling out various garments, Liberty sat cross-legged on the bed and looked at the note from Cory again. ‘The party’s on Portland Place. That’s one of those really posh roads off Marine Drive, isn’t it? Those houses are massive. They’ll probably think I’m staff when I turn up and expect that I’m going to do the washing up.’ An eye roll from Em. ‘No, they won’t, not by the time I’ve finished with you. Right, I reckon it’s got to be between these two.’ Liberty looked at the dresses Em was holding up. She lived in combats, jeans and trainers, and couldn’t wait to dress up for a change. Before she’d had Brooke she’d loved getting dressed up for a night out, but nowadays she never really had the chance. This night was already turning into the best she’d had in ages and she hadn’t even got to the party yet. Em chucked both dresses on the bed. ‘Go on, girl. I know you can’t wait to get them on.’ Grinning, Liberty pulled off her waitress uniform of black trousers and white shirt. Thank God she had shaved her legs yesterday. She picked up the first dress – a tight red Lycra off-the-shoulder mini dress.
9
She slipped it on and looked in the mirror. The colour suited her dark brown hair and green eyes, and her figure didn’t look too bad either. Em came back into the room holding two glasses, one of which she handed to Liberty. ‘Vodka and Coke, get that down you.’ She took a sip, and instantly felt a warm glow envelop her. ‘Liking that dress,’ Em said, casting a critical eye over it. ‘Classy and sexy. They definitely won’t mistake you for staff in that. Let’s see you in the other one.’ It was a baby pink halterneck that suited Em with her blonde hair but made Liberty look washed out, so the red it was, along with a pair of gold strappy sandals that killed her feet, but what the heck! A bit of make up, a spritz of Em’s Obsession perfume, her hair out of the ponytail, and she was ready. It had to be the quickest-ever makeover . . . but seeing as she usually got dressed in five minutes flat, she felt like she’d had a full on pamper session. Getting ready had been fun, but now as she stood outside Em’s flat waiting for the taxi to turn up, Liberty felt jittery with nerves. ‘Can’t you come with me?’ she asked her friend, who had joined her to smoke a sneaky roll up – Noah strongly disapproved of her smoking and Em was supposed to have given up. Liberty shivered in the thin party dress. It was a cool June night and she regretted not having a jacket. ‘Nope, he didn’t ask me. Stop stressing, this is meant to be a bit of fun. Remember what that was?’ She smiled at her friend. ‘That guy is gorgeous. And he obviously really likes you.’ Liberty fiddled with her hair. ‘I think I’ve lost my flirting mojo.’
10
‘I’m not surprised – it’s been so long since Eddie.’ Eddie was a friend of Noah’s, and Liberty had gone out with him for five months, a year ago. He had been the first guy she had seen since Luke – Brooke’s dad. Nice enough, fit enough, she had almost begun to fantasise about them falling in love and creating a happy family for her daughter, when he had said he wasn’t ready for that commitment – even though she hadn’t mentioned it – and buggered off back to Australia. Liberty wasn’t so much heart-broken as extremely wary of getting involved with anyone again, for her daughter’s sake. Her heart had been broken once before by Luke, who hadn’t wanted to know when she fell pregnant at eighteen. He’d harboured his own ambitions of being an actor, and fathering a child at the age of nineteen didn’t figure in them. He had seen Brooke twice since she was born and didn’t give Liberty any money for her maintenance. She dreaded her daughter asking questions about him as she got older. What did you say? How could she soften the blow when she had to reveal the fact that her dad was never interested in her and didn’t want to see her? Em blew out a perfect smoke ring. ‘Libs, you’ll be fine. It’s like riding a bike. It’ll come back.’ And then there was no more time to worry as the taxi drew up and Em gave her a quick hug. By now it was half-past twelve and a big part of Liberty wanted to go home, to tiptoe into her daughter’s bedroom and watch her sleeping, to kiss her goodnight and shut out the rest of the world. But then she thought of Cory’s blue eyes, the way he had looked at her, the way he’d smiled at her. She couldn’t deny to herself how much she wanted to see him again.
11