Don't Mention the Rock Star

by Bree Darcy

  I arched my body into his in reply and he pulled my shirt over my head.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Curtis seethed all the way back to Mum’s house, refusing to speak to me. He immediately disappeared into the lounge with his laptop. Trust him to retreat into work at the most inappropriate moments.

  I peeled off my dress and stepped into the shower.

  Ten minutes later, Curtis burst into the bathroom, reading from his laptop screen: “‘Anyone wanting proof that rock’n’roll is not dead should have been at Wembley Arena last night. Danger Game powered their way through three hours of old-school, down and dirty rock’n’roll. Charismatic lead singer AJ Dangerfield certainly lived up to his reputation as one of the last standing rock gods.’ Sounds like a great concert. But I guess you know that, because you were there.”

  I continued to pat night cream on to my face.

  “That was the concert you went to with Nikki. I could never understand why you were interested in seeing that band but now it all becomes crystal clear. The date of that night – in case it’s foggy in your memory, like remembering to tell me about your famous boyfriend in the first place – was August 9, 1999. About nine months before our son was born.”

  I unpinned my hair while talking to my husband’s reflection in the mirror. “Don’t listen to what Dan says. He’s still bitter about our break-up – and yes, I admit I did break up with him because of Andy.”

  “I’ve always wondered why Ryan looks nothing like us. Ciara, I can see bits of me and bits of you. But Ryan, there’s no resemblance at all.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything. He could take after my father. I’ve no idea what he looks like.”

  “Or he could take after his father. Must be where he gets his love of music from.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re his father.”

  “Maybe we should let a paternity test decide that.”

  “Curtis, there is no way that Ryan isn’t your son. I can swear, without a shadow of doubt, that he is yours. Yes, I used to date Andy, yes I saw his band in London, but unless he is able to impregnate fans from the stage …”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about him then? I looked like a right idiot tonight, not knowing my wife once dated some famous singer.”

  “If you take the time to get off your high horse, I was going to tell you … the minute you told me you used to go out with your brother’s wife.”

  Curtis opened his mouth, then shut it again.

  “Felicity told me at Christmas. So don’t go accusing me of keeping secrets when you’ve been hiding a pretty major one yourself.”

  “That’s all in the past. There was never a need to mention it.”

  “Exactly. Just like me and Andy then.”

  Curtis’ eyes softened. “So you swear you haven’t slept with him since we’ve been together?”

  I held up my hand in an oath pose, looked Curtis directly in the eyes and told him exactly that.

  “Because if I find out you’re lying, I’ll be straight on to Hugh Prestwich.” Hugh was one of Ewan’s old school chums, a hard-nosed divorce lawyer notorious for challenging the notion that a mother should automatically get custody rights.

  People often debated whether it was ever acceptable to tell a lie. For me, that night, it was the only way I knew how to prevent my life – and my children’s – from imploding.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  I waited until Andy was in the shower then rang Nikki, to reassure her I was okay. I caught her as she was heading out the door to work. “You dirty rotten stopout. Did you sleep with him last night?”

  “No,” I said, glad I could answer her truthfully. “I didn’t sleep with him last night.”

  “Curtis rang about ten minutes ago looking for you. I told him you’d already gone out sightseeing.”

  My body tingled all over, masking the fact I’d only had about three hours sleep. I sat on the bed waiting for the guilt to engulf me. I conjured up an image of my husband but still nothing. There was no guilt, just elation at having been with Andy again. You were mine first.

  “So what’s your plans for today?” I asked Andy, toying with my yoghurt and muesli breakfast.

  He paused, a fork laden with fried egg and steak hovering near his mouth. “Hanging out with you of course. Then we’re on the road again first thing tomorrow, heading for Cardiff in Scotland.”

  “Cardiff is in Wales.”

  “See. I need someone like you around to keep me informed.”

  My spirits soared as I realised we had another whole day together. “You wanna go sightseeing – see what’s changed since we were here for your twenty-first?” I suggested.

  “It’s a bit hard to go out,” he said, scrunching his nose. “Too many people recognise me, becomes one big hassle.”

  “You poor diddums. Must be tough being a rock star,” I joked. “But it’d be such a shame if we have to stay cooped up in here.” I whipped open a curtain. “Look it’s a lovely sunny day. Why don’t we go for a drive, like the old days.”

  “Good idea, let’s get out of the big smoke. What about that place – the beach with the rocks? I saw it on a travel program.”

  “If you mean Brighton, that’s not too far away.”

  Andy made a few phone calls and we soon had a car and driver ready to take us west for our day trip. He had no luck rousing Gerry, however. “No answer. Still recovering from his hard night, obviously,” Andy grinned, replacing the phone receiver.

  * * *

  Someone called Andy’s name as we dashed across the hotel foyer. A beefy man in a navy suit hurried over. “Great show last night, AJ. Top stuff, man,” he said, clapping Andy on the back.

  Andy shuffled his feet, self-consciously.

  “Rest of the band around?”

  “Gerry’s still asleep. Dom’s probably working out with Sven. And I’m heading out with … my cousin. Caprice, this is Simon from my record company.”

  Ah-ha, now I understood the cousin reference. This was someone who worked for Siena.

  “City Radio wants to book you for a slot this evening. Bit last minute but I can arrange a car to take you to the studio -”.

  Andy help up his hand to stop Simon mid-flow. “No chance, we don’t do media the day after a concert. It’s in our contract.”

  Simon looked stumped. “But-”.

  “Gotta hit the road. Ciao.” Andy pulled me through the revolving door and the doorman ushered us to a waiting limo.

  “If you want to do the radio show, I understand,” I said, hesitating on the kerb.

  “Get in, we’re going to the beach. I’m forgetting all about the band today.”

  “Is it really in your contract – no promo stuff after a show? I remember when you’d turn up at a scout campfire if it meant you could perform in front of someone. What about that time we were hanging out at that bar and the glam rock band didn’t show up because they had van trouble. By the time they tripped in on their metallic platform boots forty minutes late, you were halfway through the set.”

  “Luckily, those desperate days are long behind us. Of course, there’s nothing in our contract but by the time Simon figures that out, you and me will be long gone.”

  As we glided in style through the streets of London, Andy slid his hand up my thigh. I batted him away. “That’s hardly appropriate behaviour from a cousin,” I teased.

  “You know that was just to cover my ass with the Atticus guy.”

  “But if he does report back to Siena, won’t she know that Caprice isn’t here?”

  “As if Siena would know what my family was up to! I could tell her Caprice was over here marrying into royalty and she wouldn’t give a toss.”

  “You aren’t worried that someone in your entourage could let something slip. They did see me go up to your hotel room last night.”

  “As if. They know the code: what happens on tour, stays on tour.”

  That rule I knew … unfortunately too well. A gloomy silence descen
ded on us until Andy reached over to crack open a bottle of bubbly.

  “So?”

  “So?” I repeated.

  “We’ve got a long trip ahead of us and I have an idea about how we can pass the time.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  “Really? I was thinking eye spy or we could sing One Hundred Bottles of Beer on the Wall or -”.

  I shrieked as Andy lunged at me.

  * * *

  Lounging on blue and white striped deck chairs, we watched two toddlers digging around in the pebbles as the tide receded far into the distance. I hoped these little ones one day realised this wasn’t what a beach was supposed to look like.

  “You haven’t caught up with your dad while you’ve been living here?” Andy’s question took me by surprise.

  “Didn’t even cross my mind.”

  Andy gave me his look.

  “Okay, maybe it crossed my mind once or twice, but no, I don’t really want to go there. To be honest, looking for someone called Peter Smith – it’d be easier finding a needle in a haystack.”

  “I’d hate it if my daughters didn’t want to know me,” Andy said. “I may not be around all the time but I’d do anything for my girls. They’re the reason I’m desperate to go home at the end of a tour.” Danger Game still had seventeen shows ahead of them before they returned to LA. He would miss the twins’ birthday.

  “So how did he propose?”

  I looked at Andy blankly, as a lone seagull squawked while circling overhead.

  “You know, your husband, the guy you married.”

  “Do we have to?”

  “I’m interested. Indulge me.” Andy settled back on his deck chair, clasping his hands behind his head. “I’ve got all day.”

  I explained that it was on a beach in Thailand. We were watching fireworks which climaxed with a sign lit up in flames saying Marry Me.

  Andy raised his eyebrows. “Impressive. How could you say no.”

  “All the hotel guests were cheering and looking at us.” How could I say no. I remembered that day in Phuket so well. I should have guessed something was up because Curtis had been so attentive, arranging the perfect day. He was up at seven when the pool opened to claim a sunbed for me and order a platter of tropical fruit and pancakes for breakfast. We caught a tuk tuk into Patong for some shopping, returning for a massage in the spectacular gardens, an afternoon siesta and a poolside buffet feast before a sunset walk along the beach, culminating in the fireworks.

  “But don’t you think it’s a bit weird to start your marriage by having something go up in flames?” Andy asked.

  It had been such an over-the-top gesture. Totally unexpected. And I wasn’t about to tell Andy what I found out later. That it wasn’t nearly as romantic as it sounded. That Marry Me sign actually belonged to another guy Curtis met at the bar the afternoon before. He had planned on popping the question but his intended had got drunk and confessed that she had been sleeping with his friend. He was lamenting to Curtis about forking out all that money to hire a sign he would never use when Curtis, buoyed by endless cocktails, offered to take it off his hands for a fair price.

  “And what about you? How did you propose to Siena?”

  “I didn’t. I’ve only ever proposed to one woman and it’s not my wife.” Andy looked at me pointedly, then shrugged. “She found out she was pregnant and the next thing I know we’re getting married. She even bought her own ring. So what’s your husband like – if you had to describe him in five words.”

  “Ambitious, steady, loyal, stable …. and tall.” I counted them off on my fingers.

  “Steady and stable – that’s good I suppose. If he were a table. And how would you describe me?”

  “Crazy, crude, pig-headed, annoying… and short.”

  “Whatever happened to cute and loveable? So what you’re telling me is you married the complete opposite to me. I’m flattered.”

  “I don’t see any similarities between Siena and myself either.”

  We both sat pondering our choices for a moment before Andy tossed a grenade into the conversation. “So our European leg is finishing up in Paris. How’d you fancy meeting me there and doing the city of lurve together?”

  I told him I was more likely to fly to the moon.

  “Come on, I wanna race you to the top of the Eiffel Tower. And who else is gonna help me communicate with the locals – I remember you studied French at school. Oh oui, I do. And Niks will cover for you, you know she will.”

  Andy sensed I was weakening.

  “I’ll give you the details when we get back to the hotel. Actually give me your number too. I hate not knowing how to contact you.”

  “It’d be easier if you used my work email address,” I said. “You on email?”

  “Um, no. No cellphone either. I don’t want people constantly on my case. But give it to me, I’ll get someone to hook it up for me.”

  An elderly couple wandered past – he was in typical British beach-going wear of knee-length shorts and sandals with socks. Mind you, I couldn’t talk. I was still wearing the same sweaty clothes from the night before.

  Andy stood up, his hand shading his eyes as he tried to see the sea in the distance. “Wanna go for a swim?”

  “California boy, it may be summer but you’ve got no idea how cold that ocean is.”

  * * *

  Once it started drizzling we headed for the pier. Andy drove like a madman behind the wheel of the dodgem car but I had to convince him he’d only draw attention to himself if he rode a carousel horse with all the young children. He tried desperately – four times – to win a gaudy toy on the coconut shy stall.

  “Move aside for the real talent,” I said, before shooting in five balls in a row on the basketball slamdunk game and claiming a giant purple unicorn as my prize.

  “I forgot you were Little Miss Sporty Spice.”

  Andy took me and our baby unicorn for lunch at a pizza parlour. He even remembered to order me a vegetarian, hold the olives.

  Afterwards we were wandering through town when Andy spotted his driver gesturing wildly at us. “Geez, all I ask is for a few hours of peace. Is that too much to ask? I’m not ready to go back yet. Come on, let’s lose him.”

  We raced off, weaving through the streets until Andy stopped suddenly in front of a poster board sign about a tea dance. He had a mischievous look on his face.

  “You’ve got to be kidding. We’re not going in there.”

  “Why not – it’s the perfect place to hide. Who’s gonna recognise me in here?”

  Next thing I knew I was being dragged up the stairs. Andy whipped off his cap and sunglasses as a lovely old lady with a flower in her white hair greeted us at the door with a money tin.

  “It’s five-pound admission,” she said. “It’s a bit steeper than normal, love, but we’re having a bit of a fundraiser for old Bob, who’s had a stroke.”

  As we twirled around the dance floor to the big band music, we tried our best but couldn’t really keep up with all the fox-trotting and waltzing couples.

  “I don’t remember you being able to dance as good as this,” I told Andy as the music transitioned into a rumba.

  Andy looked sheepish. “Siena made us take dance lessons, to loosen us up on stage.”

  “Well those swivelling hips of yours are certainly attracting attention,” I said, noticing the women in tweed skirts eyeing him up from the sidelines.

  We finished off with a rather lively jive before Andy had a bit of a chinwag with the locals while enjoying his cup of tea and slice of sponge cake.

  On the way out Andy stuffed several fifty-pound notes into the admission tin.

  * * *

  “So this newspaper job of yours, seems a bit of a waste. What happened to my girl who was gonna change the world?”

  We were scoffing fairy floss, or cotton candy as Andy called it, sitting on a stone wall overlooking the beach.

  “What are you – a career counsellor now? The media’s really competitive
here. I was lucky to even score a job in Sheffield at all. Most of the best jobs are in London.”

  Andy licked the sugary mess off his fingertips. “So move to London.”

  “My husband’s job is up north. Life is all about compromise, you know. Sometimes you have to …” I trailed off. I could see where he was heading with this.

  “That’s weird coming from someone who wasn’t willing to compromise at all to be with me. You had no qualms putting your career before us.” He ditched a stone towards the sea.

  “We were only kids, Andy. How could we tell if what we had was the real thing?”

  “I knew. From the second I met you.”

  “You were asking me to give up everything for you.”

  “No I wasn’t. Maybe just for a few years. Look what we could have had if you’d had a little more faith.”

  “I always had faith in you. You being faithful on the other hand …”

  “Nothing would have happened if you’d been with me.”

  “So it’s my fault for not being with you 24/7 to make sure you didn’t put out with your fans.”

  “Excuse me! I do not put out.”

  “You obviously have a short memory then because I’m certain you put out with a fan from your concert this very morning.”

  Andy grinned. “You’re right. But doing it with you doesn’t count. It’s more like restoring the natural order of the universe.”

  * * *

  “So do you miss home?” We were strolling along the waterfront boardwalk, hand in hand.

  “I do. I miss Mum, of course. And the sun. But England has its advantages too. It’s just a hop, skip and a jump to so many great places in Europe. And of course, I’m avoiding having to pay back my uni loan while I’m out of the country.”

  “Why hasn’t your husband paid this off?”

  “He says I accumulated the debt before I met him so it’s not his problem.”

  Andy mumbled to himself.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. As my ma used to say if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.”

  I glanced up to see the driver hurrying towards us again.