Hearing from a fan was exactly as surreal as that was. It didn’t seem like something that should be possible. Not anymore.
Naomi West, the musician, was someone who had fans. She had gotten used to the small pocket of people who had come to every show specifically to see her, the way they would push to the front of the crowd during her set, the way the Desert Flowers’ fans would fade back to let the Naomi West fans through. She had gotten used to signing autographs at the end of the night and hearing people gush over her as if she had done something superhuman, something much more remarkable than simply playing a few of her songs.
Naomi West, the office worker, was someone different. She was someone who could hardly even be considered a fan of herself. She didn’t stand up for herself with her boss, and she felt trapped in and suffocated by a job she hated.
Suddenly, her mind was made up. She pulled out her phone.
This message was weird; it was true. But it seemed to be offering her a chance to have just a little bit, just a taste, of that old life back.
It was as if her life had been in black and white for the past six years, and now somebody had given Naomi the switch that would turn on the color.
She dialed the number on the card and waited as the phone rang.
“Hello?” a voice answered.
The speaker was definitely foreign. Naomi didn’t recognize the accent. Could it be German? It seemed a little more fluid than that, but she couldn’t place it.
“Is this…Peter?” she asked.
“Yes, this is Petr.” The way the man pronounced his own name sounded more like the English word “petter.” Naomi repeated it in her mind, familiarizing herself with it. “Who’s calling, please?”
“This is Naomi West,” she said. Then, feeling a bit foolish, wondering if she needed to explain herself, she added, “You, um, sent me some flowers.”
“Ms. West!” Petr exclaimed. His voice was filled with delight. “I so hoped you would call. Or may I call you Naomi? I don’t wish to be forward.”
“Naomi’s fine,” she said, bemused. Even at the height of her fame, no one had called her Ms. West. Fans had often referred to her by her full name, as if she wasn’t a regular person who could just be called by her first name—which she supposed she wasn’t to them. But no one had ever been this formal.
“Wonderful,” Petr said happily. “And I am Petr Agridis, but I hope you’ll call me Petr—but, of course, you already have!” He laughed. “I’m so pleased to hear that you got the flowers. Did you like the arrangement?”
“I did,” Naomi said. “And it was very kind of you to send them.”
“Well, it was only proper,” Petr said. “I could hardly reach out to you without a gift of some kind. It would have been most disconcerting, I imagine, if I had sent a letter to you at work with no flowers.”
“To be honest, it was a little disconcerting anyway,” Naomi admitted. “Not that I’m ungrateful, of course. But to receive flowers from a stranger—I can’t deny, that surprised me.”
“Not unpleasantly, I hope?”
“No,” Naomi said. “Not unpleasantly. But it definitely wasn’t something I expected today.”
“I’m a big fan of yours, you see,” Petr said. “Maybe even your biggest. Oh, I’ve enjoyed your music for years. Well, of course, you know that; you read the card that was enclosed with the flowers. Tell me, did the people at the shop remember to capitalize ‘Starlight Boy’? When I placed the order over the phone, I told them that was important.”
“They did,” Naomi said.
“Thank goodness,” Petr said. “I’m sure you would have understood the reference regardless—it’s your song, after all! But I wanted to be clear.”
“It was clear,” Naomi said.
“I’ve always wanted to meet you,” Petr said. “I hope you don’t think that’s silly—a grown man wanting to meet his favorite songwriter. But you must be used to it. I’m sure you receive messages like that from fans all the time.”
“Not actually,” Naomi said. “I haven’t heard anything from a fan in years.”
“What? I can’t believe that!”
“If you’re actually a fan of my music, you must have noticed that I haven’t released anything in years,” she told him. “My career’s over.”
“Oh, don’t say that. There’s always the chance for a comeback,” Petr said.
Naomi frowned. She was sure his intentions were good, but she didn’t like people telling her there was a chance she could make a comeback. That idea made it more difficult to accept the life she had. It made her long for something that was over. She could deal with the fact that her music career had been a temporary thing. What she couldn’t deal with was the idea that there was something she could do that she hadn’t done that would have allowed her to reclaim it.
She turned her attention to a different question. “How did you know where I work?”
“Oh,” he said. “You’re on the company website. There’s a picture of you on the homepage.”
That was true. It was actually a picture of the whole office, meant to convey the friendly way clients would be treated, but because Naomi’s desk was right up front, she featured prominently.
“You were on our company website?” she asked.
“You sell travel packages,” he pointed out. “I was in the market. Anyway, when I saw you on the homepage, I investigated the section that lists the company’s employees, and sure enough, there you were. Naomi West, Receptionist.” He chuckled. “They should be making a bigger deal about having a famous person on their staff! What a wasted opportunity.”
“No, they shouldn’t,” Naomi said firmly. “I’m not famous. No one even knows who I am anymore.”
“I know who you are,” he pointed out.
It was the kind of statement that Naomi would have expected to find a little bit creepy, but she didn’t. Something about the way he said it made it clear that he was just a sincere fan. She believed him when he said that he had always wanted to meet her.
“All right,” she said. “Maybe you know who I am. But nobody else does. That part of my life is over.”
“Would you be willing to be Naomi West, singing sensation, for just one more evening?” he asked.
Her heart fluttered a little. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing nefarious,” he assured her. “But I really have always wanted to meet you. Let me take you out for drinks tonight.”
Naomi hesitated. She had been saying no to invitations since her mother’s death. She just hadn’t felt like getting out of the house and seeing anybody.
But maybe Betty was right. Maybe it was time to return to life. And stepping into the fun, carefree days of her past might be just the right way to do that.
“I could go for a drink,” she said.
“Wonderful!” Petr said. “Will you meet me at the Crystal Lounge in an hour?”
That would give her time to go home and change. “I can do that,” she said. “How will I know you when I see you?”
“I’ll know you,” he said. “I’ve seen your picture.”
“Oh.” Naomi felt foolish. “Right.”
“I’ll see you then,” he said, his voice cheerful. “I look forward to it!”
Naomi hung up, started her car, and drove home, her mind racing a mile a minute. She had honestly believed that this part of her life was behind her. A fan who wanted to meet her! What a strange thing to have happen after so long away from music. She’d believed she had cut ties with her old life, but apparently it could still reach forward and touch her.
She wished she could call her mother and tell her about this. Her mother really had been her biggest fan.
Naomi’s condo was in a residential neighborhood of Los Angeles with tree-lined streets. Although it looked suburban, you could hear the sounds of downtown from her backyard. It was the perfect combination of picturesque and close to the things she liked in the city. She parked her car and went inside.
&nb
sp; What on earth was she going to wear?
Most of her closet space was taken up with neutral-colored slacks and button-down shirts—appropriate clothes for the office. It had been so long since she had gone anywhere else.
She shoved her work clothes aside on the rack.
At the very back were a few of the dresses she had most favored during her tour days. Some of them hadn’t been worn in years. She contemplated for a moment, then pulled out a peach-colored dress that she’d worn during a few performances. It had always made her feel softer on stage, closer to the emotions that had fueled her songwriting.
But she hadn’t worn this dress since the tour had ended. She was surprised to find that she still had it.
Would it still fit?
She stepped into it and pulled it on, reaching behind her to fasten the zipper, remembering how one of the members of the Desert Flowers used to do that for her. It was a little more difficult on her own, of course—but the zipper slid up easily.
The dress still fit her perfectly.
Naomi stepped in front of her full-length mirror.
She felt as if she was looking through a window to the past. It had been six years, but her face hadn’t aged all that much. Her eyes were older, she thought—whenever she had looked into a mirror before a show, she had seen nothing but giddy, youthful excitement. Now she saw stress, worry, trepidation.
But she also saw Naomi West, singer/songwriter.
She had thought this woman was gone forever. But she wasn’t. She had been inside her all along.
Naomi shook herself. How could a dress have this much power? How could a dress bring her back to the past so completely?
But it had.
She stepped away from the mirror before she had time to get carried away. She would need to remain levelheaded tonight. A blind date was no time to lose her grip on reality.
Not that this was a date! For God’s sake, Naomi, pull it together.
She stepped into a pair of strappy sandals, grabbed her purse, and headed out the door, leaving her hair to spill loose over her shoulders as she had always done when performing. At the office, she usually wrapped it in a tidy bun.
She felt so unlike herself today.
The Crystal Lounge was a piano bar a few blocks from her home. Naomi was glad Petr had chosen it, as it would mean not having to drive. She didn’t plan on drinking to excess tonight, but it was always better not to have to worry about whether or not the alcohol was affecting you a touch too strongly.
The cool night air helped to clear her head. She would allow herself to have fun tonight. It would be good to be reminded of what it had been like to be a successful musician. After the difficulties she had faced over the last few months, she thought she deserved a break like that. But she wasn’t going to let herself make more of this than what it was.
Honestly, he’s probably just a music nerd who was obsessed with “Starlight Boy.” She had met a few people like that in her time. She’d always found them very sweet. It was incredibly flattering to think that her song had spoken to someone so deeply.
But people like that tended not to be all that interested in Naomi herself. She had learned, in fact, that it was best if she kept quiet around them. They didn’t want to know what she thought about the song, what it meant to her. They wanted it to be about what it meant to them. And that was fine with Naomi. Whatever made them happy was good enough for her.
She would let this Petr do the talking. At the end of the evening, he would be able to say that he had met one of his favorite singers, and she would be reminded that there were people who thought of her that way.
She reached the Crystal Lounge and went inside.
As soon as she entered, a man at the bar rose to his feet and walked over to meet her.
“Thank you for coming, Naomi,” he said and gave her a winning smile. “I’m Petr.”
Chapter 3
Naomi did her best to keep the shock from registering on her face, but she wasn’t sure how successful she was. Petr Agridis was not at all what she had expected.
He was gorgeous.
She had been anticipating a nerdy guy, and in her mind she had conjured up an image of a short, wiry man with glasses, possibly with an unfortunate haircut. Petr didn’t fit that description at all.
He was tall—definitely over six feet—with thick brown hair that immediately made her want to reach out and touch it and bright green eyes that seemed to bring energy to the room. When he smiled, he revealed perfectly even white teeth.
He held out a hand, and her heart pounded in her chest as she shook it. Without a doubt, he was the most handsome man she’d ever met. She felt her skin heat up at the strength of his hand and the scent of his cologne.
What the hell am I doing? She shook herself. She wasn’t here on a date. This was a meeting with a fan!
It had been a long time since she had done this. It made sense that she was having trouble stepping back into the old habits. But she could do it.
She smiled up at Petr, hoping he didn’t notice that she was blushing. “It’s very nice to meet you, Petr,” she said.
“Shall we get a table?” he asked. “I’ve been at the bar while I waited for you, but it would be much nicer to talk to you somewhere a little bit quieter.”
Naomi hesitated, then nodded. “That would be good,” she said.
“Do you want to find us a place to sit?” Petr suggested. “I’ll get us some drinks. What can I get for you?”
“A cosmopolitan?”
“Done.” He winked at her and headed back to the bar.
She watched him go, his body moving confidently as if he owned the place.
Well, wasn’t that confusing. Fans had always tended to be a bit tongue-tied upon meeting her. Naomi had never judged them for it, of course—meeting a stranger could be awkward even when it wasn’t someone who had written a song you felt personally connected to.
But Petr wasn’t acting like a fan. Not that she expected him to fawn over her or anything, of course, but she had to admit that she was surprised by how cool and collected he seemed.
He returned to the table she had chosen with her drink in hand and a martini for himself. He handed hers to her. “I ordered a bottle of champagne as well,” he said. “I thought we ought to share a toast on this auspicious occasion.”
“Oh,” Naomi said, feeling rather flustered. “Well, that would be nice.”
He fished in his pocket, then pulled out a copy of her CD and a pen. “I was hoping you might do me the honor of autographing this,” he said. “It would mean the world to me to have a signed copy.”
Naomi picked up the CD. It felt like forever since she had even looked at one of these. She had several at home, of course, but they were all packed away in a box. It wasn’t as if she saw them every day.
She picked up the pen and scrawled—
To a Starlight Boy—Dream Big!
Naomi West
He took the album from her and read what she had written. “Dream big,” he said, smiling. “That’s appropriate. I was dreaming pretty big when I dared to ask you to have a drink with me.”
Naomi laughed. “I’m really not that big a deal,” she said. “I’m flattered that you liked the song, Petr, really, but I’m not a famous artist or anything. Most people have forgotten all about me by now.”
“Maybe so,” Petr said and leaned toward her slightly. “But that’s not how greatness is really measured, is it?”
“What do you mean?” Naomi asked.
“No musician’s career lasts forever,” he said. “The most famous bands in all of history have disbanded by now.” He listed a few names, and Naomi nodded in understanding, distracted a little by his accent that caressed her ears.
“The point isn’t how long your career lasted,” he went on. “The point isn’t that it’s over now. The point is what impact you had while you were writing and performing.”
“I doubt I made that much of an impact either,” Naomi said.
“I only ever toured as an opener for a more popular band. That album you’re holding was the only one I ever released, and it only ever charted one single.”
“That single meant the world to me,” Petr said. “I felt as if the woman who had written that song had seen into my very soul, and had pulled out something that nobody else had ever been able to see about me. It was incredibly moving. ‘Starlight Boy’ has gotten me through some of the most difficult times in my life. When things were particularly tough, I would put on that song and feel a little less alone because someone out there had felt the way I was feeling.”
“Really?” Naomi asked, feeling a blush rising to her cheeks. “The song really did that for you?”
“And not just that song,” Petr said. “I liked the whole album. I bought it for the single, of course, but there are so many great tracks. Like ‘Perihelion.’ That’s my favorite song on the album. Maybe even my favorite song of all time.”
“You’re kidding,” Naomi said. The song “Perihelion” had always held a very special place in her heart. But it was a very short song, too short for radio airplay, so it had never become well known.
“The melody is gorgeous,” Petr said and looked deep into her eyes. “There’s nothing quite like it.”
Naomi was touched. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m used to people wanting to talk about ‘Starlight Boy’—at least, I was used to it back in the old days when I used to greet fans all the time—but nobody ever wants to talk about the other songs on the album.”
“A grievous mistake on their part, in my opinion,” Petr said.
“I never even played ‘Perihelion’ live,” Naomi said.
“I noticed that,” he said, smiling.
“You came to my concerts?”
“No, I didn’t live in the States back when you were touring,” he said. “I was still in Europe at the time. But I’ve watched recordings of them online. I had hoped that perhaps I was just missing one, that there was a show where you played ‘Perihelion’ and I just hadn’t found it.”
The Prince's Devious Proposal Page 2