Her hands balled into fists, Rae wanted nothing more than to fly at the creep, but she stood her ground, sucking in deep breaths to calm the thoughts flying through her mind. “We need to talk. And quickly. Emily was here. She came to speak to you and now we can’t find her anywhere after the gig.”
The words jolted some of the aggression out of Simon’s stance and he took a step back. He wiped at his forehead with one hand, shoulders slumped. “It’s over. This is all just so fucked up.”
“Not as fucked up as you. What you did...”
His expression hardened and he looked back at her. “I didn’t have a chance to explain, and with you sticking your nose into the matter it probably wouldn’t have mattered if I tried.”
“No, you didn’t have the balls to come clean up the mess. That’s what. And you’ve done a very good job ruining whatever chances Emily had at happiness. You’re going to grow some backbone and break it off with her properly instead of having her to read about it in the papers.”
“Who’re you to say I want to break it off with her?”
“It’s pretty clear from you hoovering up lines of Charlie from some blond twunt’s tits that you shagged around behind Em’s back.”
He straightened his shoulders. “I might have been doing coke, but I sure as hell didn’t shag her, okay? She was some dancer our hosts hired and it was a dare. And a transvestite to boot. And, contrary to popular belief, I’m not a fag.”
“And you expect me to believe that?”
Simon hissed. “No. Because I know nothing I say will count in my favor. At this point in my spectacular career, no one will put anything past me. So I don’t see why I should bother if no one will believe me.”
Rae’s head spun. What if he told the truth? It didn’t stop him from being a right twunt for not having tried to fix things. She fixed him with a glare. “You give up too easily.” Let her see if she could somehow put things to right. After all, her inadvertent meddling had precipitated the present situation, had it not?
He said nothing to this simple statement and returned her gaze evenly, his dissatisfaction clear in the way his lips pulled into a thin line.
She took a chance, but if she knew her sister, she was all too predictable and pigheaded to boot. If she hadn’t gone to the car–a small chance but highly unlikely given this evening’s festivities–and didn’t need the loo, that meant she was arse-farting around the garden somewhere, feeling horribly sorry for herself and being all dramatic.
How did she know this? Well, that’s what Rae would do and, despite their difference in ages and their present outlooks on life, they were still siblings and shared similar preferences in maudlin behavior.
After a deep breath, Rae spoke. “When me and Em were little, and our parents were still together, they used to bring us here almost every other Sunday for a picnic. The highlight of our excursion was always a trip to the bird-shaped fountain up in the dell, and our dad would always give us fifty cents each to make a wish. Now, I know it’s a long shot, but if I know her, there’s a chance she might be there.” Rae didn’t add that her sister was no doubt wishing none of this had ever happened.
The man stared at her, his eyes wide.
“I’m not talking kak, okay? Why are you still standing here? Go find her.”
Sweet Jesus, she took a fat chance her sister would be so predictable, but what else could she do? If she didn’t send Simon up there, she’d have to go herself. May as well try to fix things.
A tremor ran through Simon and he rocked on his feet before he strode off without another word, out of the backstage area. Rae gripped her cell, ready to call Eric. Damn her sister for not having one of her own. It would prove prudent to remove herself from this space lest the bouncer feel the need to offer her his assistance.
She had absolutely no idea how this evening would end, but at least she had done her bit to make amends for her own behavior.
Chapter 15
In the Dell
The silence among the trees once Emily reached the dell was stunning and, although the almost impenetrable darkness spooked the living crap out of her, an ambiance of tranquility reigned. The air was moist and the watercourse babbled not far to her left. She’d followed one of the stone-cobbled paths up from the main section of the garden. Surrounded on all sides by trees, she reached the small sunken area where the canopy folded over her to blot out even the clouds with their ominously glowing bellies. It was never fully dark in a big city, even in its most beautiful, natural places.
She smiled at the looming shapes of the gorilla statues hulking at a space where the paved area spread outward then took a small set of steps down to the water.
As children, she and Rae had come here often to look for tadpoles, more often than not pretending they were a pair of warrior princesses on a quest to free a prince under the spell of a wicked witch who’d kept him locked up in a cave at the head of a waterfall. Back then this mountain stream with its oddly crystalline water, which ran from a fountain contained in a manmade bird-shaped pool not far ahead, had seemed almost like a river. But now it was just a small stream artfully landscaped with flat stepping stones, so she would not get her feet wet.
It was silly coming here on her own and the others would worry, the clink of the truck’s keys in her sling bag reminding her they’d be stuck here until she decided to return. Hell, they could wait. It was at Rae’s insistence she was here in the first place, and it wasn’t Emily’s fault she couldn’t go through with facing Simon. The entire exercise had been futile, and she’d only succeeded in twisting the knife deeper.
He was like the prince of her childhood fantasies, only the witch who had him trapped was a nebulous entity Emily had no way of beating. Who could compete with a celebrity lifestyle unless they too were cut of the same cloth? And she had nothing to offer except herself, no special talents save her love of books, which wasn’t exactly something to write home about, was it?
Emily stood for a while by the waterfall, which was as tall as she was and really just a splashing of the liquid from the gutter on the terrace above trickling down to feed the watercourse. When she’d been little, she and her sister had taken turns squeezing into the dark slot behind the fall, which wasn’t deep, but they’d never found any prince and, even when pretending to have found him, couldn’t decide what to do with him. One prince for two little girls? Then they’d often ended up fighting. At any rate, the slot had never contained anything but cobwebs and small, crawling things.
Standing very still, she reached out with her senses, hearing only a chorus of crickets and the random pops and clicks of what she assumed must be the Table Mountain ghost frog. What did that critter look like? She had no idea, but it was certainly a nice-sounding name.
None of the natural beauty around her could distract her from the heaviness lodged in her stomach. Emily had come here to find some peace, some sense of what she could do to gain closure, but none of that was happening. At any moment, the garden’s security guards could walk their beat and find her here, a lost water nymph haunting the scene of childhood forgotten.
With a deep sigh, she ascended the stone steps to the pool. Here, even in the gloom, she could discern the tree ferns that leaned over the water from the slope above, the ever-present gurgle of the fountain welling into its furrow, offering small comfort. The longer she stared into the depths, the less dark the pool seemed. Was it her imagination, or did small fishlike motes of blue-green flash within its depths?
Emily blinked. It was just water. Her eyes deceived her, because they filled with tears again, which she dashed angrily from her cheeks.
Then she smiled. She’d made wishes here as a child. What had happened to all the coins lying on the sandy bottom of the pool? She knew better now. Back then her dad had told her and Rae the fairies took the money and turned them into wishes. What had she wished for in those days? For a prince? More like a prince of hell, in her case. But some magic of those memories prompted her to dig in her pu
rse.
If others didn’t get the coins first, the botanical garden’s staff collected the money for charity, and knew folk who braved the icy water when they were particularly hard up for cash always found the amounts they needed. No matter where the coins went, they helped people.
Emily fumbled and withdrew a shiny five-rand coin, caressing its milled edges to feel the weight of the currency.
“What do I really want?”
It would be nice if Simon was a prince, but she’d given up on that. Did she want to meet another man? Was she even ready to start another relationship? She could wish something horrid for Simon, out of some perverse need to get back at him and, for a moment, she considered a number of options.
After a minute or so, Emily said, “I wish he’d just get over himself and decide what he wants so I can get on with my life.”
She lifted her hand and tossed the money in. The coin spun as it left her fingers and caught a gleam of reflected light from some unknown source before it slipped beneath the surface with a plop. She assumed it would settle with its brethren on the white sand where water filtered up through the porous stone.
“It is done,” she said. “Goodbye, Simon. It was great while it lasted.”
As silly as this little ritual seemed, it made her feel somewhat lighter, as though a pressure lifted from her chest and she could breathe easier. Emily slid her fingers along the rough-carved stone banister and stood a while longer, absorbing the sense of sacred space she’d always associated with the dell. Emily made a promise then, that she’d make an effort to return here more regularly, perhaps make more wishes and find ways to bring more magic into her world.
In the distance, a guinea fowl grated and squawked, its cry reminding her of the harsh scrape of metal on metal. It was time to return to the madness of the crowds streaming through every entrance of this place. No doubt Rae would be frantic by now, and Emily was sure to get a huge tongue-lashing from the diminutive brat.
With a deep sigh, she turned. A footfall scraped on the cobbles of the terrace above and she froze immediately. The disturbance had been to her left. She was not alone.
Stupid, stupid, stupid–coming here on her own at night hadn’t been the brightest idea. Despite the security, people had been mugged in the gardens on numerous occasions. Tonight, with its glut of summer concert visitors, would prove an ideal opportunity for criminals in search of cellphones and wallets, stuff they could make off with quickly.
Tight with fear, she couldn’t budge, uncertain as to which direction to take.
“Emily?”
Fuck. Was that Simon? She almost wept with relief until the annoyance at his recent vanishing act bit hard.
“What are you doing here?” She stood arms akimbo and summoned as much of her anger to reflect in her voice.
His sigh reached her and a dark figure detached itself from the shadows to make its way down the steps. A gap in the canopy above offered a weak patch of light that illuminated his features briefly, still pale–a residue of his makeup from earlier. He halted about five feet from her, close enough for her to catch his patchouli scent but beyond arm’s length.
“I… I came to apologize, okay?”
“And that’s supposed to make things better?”
“No. I know I can’t make amends for that picture. I know you won’t believe me if I say I didn’t have sex with that woman. I didn’t. Was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Powdering your nose.” Emily gave a wry laugh. “I’d hoped you were trying to be done with that stuff. You wanna end up like so many of those other doomed stars who make news headlines when they kick the bucket? Does renal failure or ODing mean anything to you at all? What about the people who remain behind?”
He shook his head, his long hair cascading on either side of his face to obscure his features. “It’s not that easy. It’s a whole different world where the usual rules don’t apply. It’s easy for you to stand here and pass judgment now, but when you’re there–”
“It’s so easy for you to forget me. Cut me out. I’m your little piece on the side you’re too embarrassed by to include, but I’m good enough for a shag when you’re feeling horny. It’s not going to work like that, Simon.”
“‘Sorry’ isn’t going to be good enough and I know I’ve just messed up something that…” His breath whistled as he exhaled. “Something that has been very, very special to me. A last chance.”
Emily didn’t know what to make of this statement. He sounded genuinely contrite, but she couldn’t allow a man to trample her feelings again. “You know I don’t like it that you can’t face your problems. I’ve spent too long having people in my life too spineless to say what’s really on their minds. That photograph suggests that you hold our relationship in contempt. People have been looking at me with pity. They say, ‘Oh shame, there’s that chick who’s been two-timed’ or ‘Goodness, did you see how her man was caught on camera?’ and stuff like that, which isn’t very good for my self-esteem. And yet…”
The words lodged in her throat. If there were any way to have avoided this entire sorry business, if he hadn’t been dumb enough to do what he did, things could have been quite different. Warm tears coursed down her cheeks and she turned away, glad it was dark so he couldn’t see her cry.
Simon took a step closer but didn’t quite touch her, although his body heat made the skin on her arms tingle. God, couldn’t he take a hint and just go now, before it was too late? But too late for what?
Despite her best efforts, a sob escaped Emily and she covered her face with her hands. “Go away, Simon. I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“I don’t really want to go away.” Her skin burned where he took hold of her wrist and pulled her hands away from her face to turn her toward him.
His eyes possessed an inner fire, even in this light, and Emily couldn’t tear herself away from his gaze, aware she trembled–and so did he.
“What’s stopping you from doing this again?” she asked.
“I’m not perfect, but I’d be a fool to let this go. God. I’ve been a great big fool.” His voice cracked on the last word.
“I’m not in the business of giving second chances.”
“I’m not used to getting second chances, so maybe we can try to figure this out, because if we don’t, I’m getting a very clear idea I’m letting something–somebody I care for deeply–slip away, a last chance at trying for joy that isn’t all fake and mired in hyper-reality.”
“But I’m not part of your world, Simon. How’s this supposed to work? You’ve tried to keep me out as far as possible. I don’t think I could deal with it if you were to go on tour again. What? Three months next time? Half a year? How’re we supposed to handle that? And if you have yet another moment of weakness? Or two? You’re a handsome man. Women look at you.” She pulled her arms away and crossed them over her chest, seeking any way to shield herself.
A warm hand cupped her chin and tilted her face, so Emily could look nowhere else.
“I don’t want to go it alone anymore. I’m tired, Em. I’ve had sleepless nights not knowing how to face you after that…that rag printed that picture. I’m ashamed at myself and, because I didn’t know how to approach you, I’ve just inadvertently made it worse. Every time I picked up the phone, I played a different scenario through my head, where you tell me what a piece of shit I am. And I just couldn’t do it. I freely admit that your rejection scared me witless, and that I’m spineless when it comes to dealing with this kind of stuff.”
It became difficult to breathe but Emily snatched at the words. “You’re not exactly making it easy for us to have a relationship. We’ve had nothing but drama since the beginning. What’s to say this won’t be the case if we do try again?”
All she wanted was to allow him to enfold her in his arms, to kiss the top of her head and promise her it would all be better, that events would run smoothly from here on in, but the certainty of failure kept her from giving in. Emily he
ld herself stiffly, willing as much of the pain and anger she’d held within her to reflect from her posture and her expression. She hardened herself when all she wanted was to let her wants overcome her needs.
Emily needed someone who wasn’t going to hurt her, a man who would be consistent, but damn, she wanted this man who couldn’t give her either assurance.
Somehow, her resolution communicated to him, because Simon let go and took a step back. “I’m sorry, okay. There’s not much else I can do and I understand that you don’t want this to carry on.” He spoke quietly, his voiced laced with a bitter edge.
This was it, the make-or-break moment, and the knowledge that she’d spend a long time, if not the rest of her life, wondering what would have happened if she had let her heart rule this day instead of her head made her throw herself at Simon, clutching at him as though he were somehow able to save her from drowning.
There was no need for words. Those strong arms she’d been missing enfolding her and lips pressed warmly to her crown spoke volumes. They stood for a while, Emily drawing comfort from the quiet thunder of his pulse before she pulled away slightly to look up at the man who was as bad a habit as a cocaine addiction.
“Either way, Simon, you’re gonna burn me. You’re a regular hellion, but the next time you decide you’re doing something stupid for the benefit of your bad-boy image, those tits had better be mine.”
He gave a dry laugh. “You gonna be my official groupie then? No, but in all seriousness, I want us to try, okay? There’s talk that we’re going to be rehearsing for the next Hellbound Heart album and the studios here are as good as anywhere else. This means we’re going to need a few months to come up with the new material and lay down the tracks. I’ve motivated for Cape Town. The rest of the crew hasn’t been here before. There’s a fair chance it’ll happen. And then, after that…” He gave a slight squeeze of his arms. “…I’d like you to come with me. We’ll call you my PA or something, but I’m not going to cut you out of my world.”
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