“Good, you’re in your office,” Kathie says. “Lloyd is on his way down there.”
“Okay, I’ll wait then. Lee is going to be furious.”
“Don’t worry about that,” she quickly says. “Oh, and please ask Mr. Grant to stay with you.”
“Okay, Kathie, I let him know,” I answer, sending a questioning gaze to Marcus.
Lloyd opens the door after a couple of knocks.
“He’s here. Bye,” I say then hang up. Something is definitely going on.
Lloyd comes in and smiles nervously as soon as he sees me.
“Hi, Luce. How was your vacation?” He sees Marcus. “Morning Marcus.” He shakes his hand. “You’re here early?”
“Morning, Lloyd. I wanted to speak to Lucia first. But it looks like it’s going to have to wait.”
“Miami was great, Lloyd. I needed the break,” I say and take a seat next to Marcus. “So… What’s going on? I have a busy schedule.” I give him the songs. “Lee and I are going to work on those for our meeting this afternoon.”
Lloyd skims through them. “Well, there have been few changes during your absence,” he says and keeps reading. “This is good, Lucia.”
“Thank you. What changes?”
“Matt –” Noel starts to say.
I roll my eyes. “What did that wanker do this time?”
“That wanker happens to be one of my closest friends,” Marcus says.
“Oh… Okay. Nice bloke you have,” I tell Marcus. This is news. I turn to Lloyd. “What did Marcus’s friend do?”
“He called for reinforcement.” he tilts his head in Marcus’ direction. “In the form of Marcus Grant.”
“I don’t understand. Their contract doesn’t give them the right,” I say. I turn to Marcus. “Didn’t you know that?”
Marcus’s gaze instantly changes. “Believe it or not, I didn’t.” He looks at Lloyd. “We wouldn’t be in that mess if I knew.”
“Lloyd?” I ask. He takes a seat on my desk’s chair and position himself. “Seriously, what’s going on? We both know that he can’t dictate this part.”
“Not for the lack of trying,” Lloyd says. “He didn’t succeed.” He looks at Marcus. “Not completely at least. You and Marcus will be working together on Second Coming.”
“Why?” I ask. This is not obvious to me.
“He’s Marcus Grant the Grand. He has multi-platinum albums, Lucia,” Lloyd explains.
Ouch! Thanks for the vote of confidence, Lloyd.
“And I’m more than qualified to do this on my own,” Marcus adds. “But I apparently won’t.”
“I could have done this on my own, Lloyd,” I tell him, completely ignoring Marcus. Who does he think he is? “You and Callia put me in charge last month. What changed?”
“A pampered star and a better songwriter-producer; welcome to show business, love,” Marcus responds instead. “Listen, I’m not pleased with this either.”
“Marcus is right,” Lloyd says. “About Matt. It’s easier this way.”
I don’t know what to think or feel. One minute this is my album, the next Mister Big Shot comes to town and I’m back playing second violin. Can we even afford him? I look at Lloyd.
“Don’t me wrong here, Lucia,” he says. “You’re still leading this project.”
“Fine!” I say. Finally some good news.
“Fine!” Marcus replies.
Lloyd seems more relax now. “There are still a few more things we need to discuss,” he tells us both then smiles and turns his attention to me. “So, how was your Friday night? Did you use the passes?”
Marcus and I exchange a quick look. I shrug. I’m too shocked to walk down memory lane right now. “Thank you for them by the way.” I force a smile.
“You should thank Marcus,” Lloyd says. “As soon as he heard from Jenny that it was your birthday, he suggested that those passes to be sent to you.”
“Oh really… Jenny,” I mutter. That bitch, always gossiping about me; I thanked him plenty. That was cheesy. Wait a minute. “How long have you been in Toronto, Marcus?” I turn around to ask.
“About ten days now,” he answers, shifting uncomfortably.
“Yes, that’s about right. We had met a few times to discuss and resolve the ‘situation’ before the launch date and your return,” Lloyd adds.
Something is just not adding up. Registering Lloyd and Marcus’ words and their implications, I start to wonder; did Marcus know who I was last Friday when we met? No… No one could be that devious. I look at Marcus silently, asking him to prove me wrong – the coward. He lowers his stare, completely avoiding mine.
“You knew who I was?” I whisper to him. No response. “You knew who I was!” I say now louder. Breathe, Lucia, breathe. That’s just too much bad news in such a short time.
“Luce, it’s not what you think,” Marcus responds.
Luce? No, really! Who does he think he is? “Don’t call me Luce! Don’t you ever call me Luce again, you piece of…” I stop. I remember Lloyd is still in my office and is now staring at us.
“What’s going on here?” he asks.
Well, Lloyd, your boy wonder here is a sociopath – platinum albums and all. But Marcus has a different version.
“I met Lucia last Friday and didn’t really tell who I was.”
“Well that’s an understatement, Just Marcus.” I’m forcing another smile. We can’t have this conversation with Lloyd in the room. He’s still holding the songs I gave him earlier. Oh my god! “Infatuation”, the song about Marcus. I feel like the biggest idiot. This is turning out to be a terrible day. I’m being punked on April’s fools.
“So, Lloyd,” I finally let out, long enough to keep my temper in check. “You said that there is more on Second Coming to discuss?” That was pitiful!
“Yes. Beesly and Matt are coming down this afternoon.”
They’re not supposed to be back for another couple of weeks. But I’m sure Marcus knew that too. I can’t breathe; I need to get out of this room. Now. But Lloyd beats me to it.
“I have a meeting in ten minutes.” He looks at his watch, then shoots us one last look before leaving the room. “Play nice, you two.”
“Right,” Marcus says.
“Sure,” I say and I close the door behind him. “What the fuck, Marcus!” I scream and turn around to face him. “You came to me…danced with me…slept with me!”
“It wasn’t like that.” He nervously passes his hand through his silky hair. “I just wanted to see what the fuss was all about – Lucia the baker, Lucia the soul sister, Lucia the bosses’ favorite and the list goes on.”
“So, you sought me out? Even built me a nice trap?” I ask, referring to the passes. “Well, we’re meeting now; this couldn’t have waited until today?” My hands are shaking a little. I walk past him, to the back of my office, putting my desk between us. “So why?”
“I was curious.” He doesn’t even look a little guilty for his actions. “I heard it was your birthday and so went to check you out. That was all.”
“Have you been in my office before?” I say, looking at collection of guitar frames on my wall. “What were you even doing here, Marcus? Taking measurements of your possible new office?” I’m this close to break into tears, but not in front of this man; he might take it as another invitation.
“I just stumbled into it…with Jenny,” he tells me.
Jenny – of course – who else? I’ll give her a peace of my mind.
“We weren’t snooping or anything,” he adds. “And about the charm bracelet. I bought it as a peace offering but changed my mind when –”
“A peace offering? What’s wrong with you? Offering for what exactly? For the lies, the back stabbing or more lies? And the list goes on.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “You thought that a cheap piece of jewelry would be a good consolation price! Are men always this dense in England?”
He starts to walk around the desk but stops. Finally, I hit a nerve. Instead, he le
ans against the desk and positions himself to my eye level.
“Why? Because you asked me, Lucia,” he blurts out without a blink, “You asked me if I wanted to get out of here. What was I supposed to do or say?”
Great now I’m crying. I can feel the tears rolling down my cheeks. Is he getting a kick out of hurting my feelings?
“You stupid, insensitive dickhead! Do you even know why I’m so pissed off?” I lean closer to him. “Let’s get one thing straight here; I didn’t do anything wrong!”
“I didn’t say you did! I said I just followed your lead.”
“My lead? Were you under hypnosis? Don’t you dare raising your voice at me! I went out for my birthday, got a too little drunk and picked up some guy –”
“You just keep telling yourself that, love,” he smirks back and leans in even closer.
“Really? That’s the best you’ve got for me?” I can’t take this anymore and I don’t have to. “Get out!”
“Lucia, listen, I –”
“Too late, Just Marcus, Marcus Grant, Grant the Grand, whoever the fuck you are – piss off! Now!” I signal the door. “This is still my office!”
Marcus takes one last look at me and opens his mouth as if he is about to say something.
“Please leave,” I say, wiping some of my tears. “Now.”
“Luce –”
“If you have any shreds of decency left, Marcus –”
“Okay, I’m leaving.” He raises his hands. “But this is far from being over.”
I look at him leaving my office. This is definitely over.
I’m not sure how long I have been sitting in my office. My growling stomach loudly reminds me that it’s probably been too long. Have I really been here sulking all his time? Yes. Were my reactions and actions towards Marcus a bit too dramatic? Maybe. But it’s not every day that you’re cheated out of a big break and humiliated before lunch. I don’t even think I had breakfast. However, I wasn’t completely unproductive; I checked my emails, phone messages and responded to a few. Most of them were congratulations for Second Comings. If they only knew. Soon they will I’m sure.
My cell phone buzzes; it’s Noor. I sent a message about an hour ago – Marcus is HERE – but haven’t received a response until now:
OMG with flowers?! Can’t talk. Still at the conference.
I completely forgot about that. Noor has been attending a work-related seminar since yesterday. And so the texting match begins.
Me: To steal my job I’m so Grr… (No flowers)
Noor: WHAT THE WHAT!
Noor: How?
Me: Matt called him to the rescue. Piece of Sh%&^
Noor: And we met him last weekend :-o! What are the odds of that?!
Me: ???
Me: He knew who I was…then
Noor: And you didn’t tell me!!!
Me: I didn’t know who HE was!!! Crazy!
Noor: Really? He never told you a thing?
I cannot recall a single conversation involving Marcus’ occupation until this morning.
Me: Nope
Noor: AND WE MET HIM LAST WEEKEND!
Now she’s getting it.
Noor: Aw…so you’re jobless now?
Me: Not quite. We’re a team! Yay! (Sucks)
Me: I wanna quit!
Noor: No you don’t! Hot British Invasion will not win
Me: Noor…we’re British…and hot
Noor: So? We’ve been here longer and you have to finish this. This album will be great.
Me: But it won’t be mine anymore
Noor: Stick around, sweetie. Don’t let Matt or Just Marcus win
Me: I don’t know
Noor: I do
Noor: Roll with the punches, we’re Mpobo-Riddell <3
Me: I miss you, Crazy. You call me later?
Noor: I miss you too and will call you tonight
Noor: But still what were the odds of that?
Me: There were no odds. Crazy!!!!! He came to the lounge for meNoor: OK, but what were the odds of you actually leaving with him
Noor: You didn’t have to
Me: Just call me later I’m starving.
Noor: Ok, Denial. Bye
I choose to remember only the positive messages from Crazy. I’m a Mpobo-Riddell and we have been through a lot; this tiny bump will not stop me. I think? I believe? I hope? Only time will tell. But let’s not tell Crazy just yet. I dial Kathie’s extension and pick up my receiver.
“Hey, Kathie. Downstairs in fifteen?” I reach for my handbag. “My treat,” I add.
“Okay, Luce,” she says. I can hear her typing. “I’m just finishing up here. See you there.”
Alright, time to get some intel and Kathie is the one person that can provide it.
“So how was your time away from work?” Kathie asks me. She takes another bite of her salade niçoise; it looks delicious. “It has been crazy here.”
I opted for a very appetizing smoked salmon and wild mushroom risotto, which I’m pretty much gulping down. I was hungry. Kathie, always between two diets for one reason or another, is all about the fancy salads. Not that she needs it; her second-generation Korean genes let her eat whatever she wants without any possible chance of a weight gain and her fourth-generation Irish ones guilt her about it. Her words not mine.
“Thanks for lunch,” she says. “This place is my favorite.” She takes a sip of her diet coke. “But you knew that.”
“Guilty,” I say, cleaning off my plate. “So…how crazy exactly?”
“Well…you heard about the Beesly & Matt debacle,” she asks between a few bites. “Of course you did.”
“And that’s not even the whole story,” I mumble and finish my ice tea.
“What?” she asks me. “Anyway… Who waltzed into our office last week like he owed the place?”
“Marcus Grant?” I ask.
“Marcus freaking Grant!” She finishes her drink. “Matt called me to work on his album, bla bla bla. Second Coming is a horrible title, bla bla bla. The ‘Head to Toe’ girl; are you bloody kidding me? Bla bla bla,” she says. She pushes her half-eaten salad away.
I didn’t expect that. My mouth is wide open. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Then of course Jenny was all over him. He is hot, very hot,” she continues.
Yes, Kathie, I’m aware if that. “Did they go to my office by any chance?” I ask.
“She gave him a tour, whatever that meant,” she laughs.
I think I’m going to vomit. “You don’t think that –”
“Noo… Please, the guy is a tool but he has class,” she says. “Not that she didn’t try…a lot.” She winks at me and checks her phone. “She even gave him the remaining Origin passes we had, the ones I wanted keep for myself. The other went to you.”
Well, did she now? Royal bitch!
“I sent them myself,” she says.
Well did she now? I’m surrounded by traitors!
“Did you use yours by any chance?” she asks me.
“Yup,” I say, raising one eyebrow. “I used them.” More ice tea please.
“Did you see him there?”
“Yup,” I slowly say. No, really, where is the waiter? My throat is hurting.
Looking at Kathie’s facial expression changing is priceless; she frowns first then tilts her head, closes her eyes. Bingo! She opens them back.
“You shagged him!” she shouts loud enough for the rest of the restaurant to hear. “You shagged the British stud!” she repeats, but lower this time.
“First of all, stop saying shagged. Secondly, hush!” I tell her, blushing a little. “Crazy, right? Then – surprise, surprise – who do I see here today?”
“Marcus freaking Grant!” she says, “The cocky son of a –”
“Calm down, Kathie. I’m supposed to be the upset one.”
Kathie checks her phone again; Lloyd and Callia are always sending her emails. She looks up again all smiles. “Looks like this afternoon pow-wow has been postponed. I
have to call your lover and his pal.”
“And you’re happy because…?” I ask. I let the lover joke pass for now.
“Well, does this meal come with dessert?” she asks, looking around. “We have more time now.” She leans forward. “Callia gave me a very interesting document yesterday.”
Finally, some real good dirt. “Garçon! Your dessert menu, please!”
All a girl needs is a nice warm bath and two overbearing sisters. Then everything looks better, brighter and less annoying. After my lunch with Kathie I spent the rest of the day and the beginning of the evening with Lee, working demos for “Second Coming” and “Infatuation”. They turned out great; even Lee was impressed and pleased. It was about 8.00 p.m. when I finally got home; that’s when the warm bath therapy started. I silenced my phone, put on some classical music and laid there for a good forty-five minutes, resting my muscles, clearing my minds. No piercing, green eyes in sight, no sexy smile to make me lose my focus, just me myself and I.
After the bath I ate a small snack; working all afternoon and through dinner, I forgot to eat our Chinese take-out. I felt much better. Things started to look bright again. That’s when the overbearing sisters kicked in. First, Noor, who had promised to call me back; she had spoken Axelle about the situation and the verdict was to stick it where the sun never shines, but with my talent. I truly believed that they wanted to hurt Marcus – and I mean physically. I had to do a bit of convincing, during what was now a three-way call, that I would deal with it on my own. I would do this album and I would finish it. Was I less annoyed by this situation after all this? Yes, but not with my sisters.
I arrive at the office around 10 a.m. with a new attitude and new outlook. Our meeting is in less than an hour; Kathie will call me when everybody is here. I just get settled when I hear a couple of knocks on my door. Please don’t let it be Marcus; I’m not ready for strike two just yet. Today is my turn.
“Hey, Soul Sister!” Beesly whimpers by the door. That’s a surprise. Beesly? Alone? She enters the room, her stick-thin body hidden in a large, parka-like, green dress. I smell another surgery. Her breasts look larger. “How have you been, Lucia?” she adds, smiling at me.
This Could Have Been Our Song!: A coulda woulda shoulda ballad Page 5