Had I been staring at her all that time? I didn’t even realize.
“Yes, the best biscotti I have ever tasted.” I clean the corner of her mouth with my hand. “Sorry.” Her skin is still as soft as I remember.
She presses the button to speak Matt.
“Great take, Matt; I think we’ve got what we need,” she says, completely avoiding eye contact with me. She then turns to Lee and Beesly. “What do you think?” Then me. “It’s your song after all.”
Beesly and Lee both nod yes. She recorded her portion earlier today and is now resting her voice. It’s the backup singers’ turn. The G Band will come next week to record any past or future musical tracks during the day and will be playing in a lounge downtown four times a week by night: an arrangement made with Paul Anderson, the famous tour-manager-turned-mogul-clubs-owner in Canada, the States and a few in Europe – and Lucia’s brother-in-law!
I press the button too. “We’re good mate,” I tell Matt. I turn to Lucia. “But, really, do you have any biscotti left?” I smile to her. “Your cooking is…addictive.”
Lucia blushes. She actually blushes! “Thanks Marcus.” She gives Lyrics sheets to the singers. “I like the piano piece you added to the song. Very refreshing,” she adds.
I’ve been working on this bit for the past couple of nights and it brings it all together. That’s what I do; that’s why I’m Grant the Grand, who is now working with the famous Lucita and her G Band. What a turn of event! I look up and catch Lucia’s eyes on me. And, for the first time in a month, there is no hint of animosity in them. For a moment, we just look at each other. I haven’t had the occasion to look in those grey eyes in while. They’re still as beautiful as I remember and as I wrote them in the song. Then I notice strange noises coming from the hallway. Is that Beesly screaming? I check on Lee; he’s taking care of the back-up singers’ session. Lucia is already at the door. I’m right behind her.
“You did what?” Beesly asks Matt. She’s breathing fast and hard and has tears in the corner of her eyes. She knows about Vancouver and Linda.
“What’s going on here?” Lucia asks. She looks at Beesly. “Honey, have you been crying?” She walks toward Matt. “You knob head! What have you done now?” Even in high heels, Lucia is still one small woman next to Matt, but one small, angry, determined woman. I better get there before she attacks him. She goes to Beesly instead and hugs her, wiping her tears.
“I’m okay, Luce,” Beesly tells her. She nervously passes her hands through her hair. “We’re going to Vancouver!” she adds while slowly starting to smile.
“You finally told her,” I tell Matt. I look at Lucia. There is no warmth in the look she’s giving me. “Matt got a movie role and they’re shooting in Vancouver…along with Linda Hamilton,” I deliberately add to explain Beesly’s tears.
“I’m expected on the set the day after tomorrow.” Matt reaches Beesly’s arm and gently pulls her towards him. “Love, it’s just for a few weeks,” he softly says. He looks at Lucia before adding, “It will be great for my career and very good publicity.”
“As long as you guys come back for recording sessions, I’m sure we could work something out,” I tell Matt. Lucia is still quiet. Lucia’s silent is never a good omen. She’s looking at Matt and me completely assessing the situation.
Matt smiles and kisses his wife. “I’m sure that will not be a problem, mate,” he tells me. “And Beesly and the G Band we will be available on the East Coast if you need them.”
“What do you mean?” Beesly asks. She’s pulling away from him.
What does he bloody mean?
“He means…you’re not going, B,” Lucia lets out.
“Matt?” Beesly says. “Why would I stay here without you?”
“What are you going to do there? I’ll be working twelve hours a day.”
Beesly walks away from him. “I’ll be with you, Matt,” she pleads.
“Seriously, Matt?” I say. “You’re not bringing your own wife, but you’ll go spend time with your ex? And you never worked a day in your life!”
Matt actually rolls his eyes at me and starts to walk towards Beesly.
“You’re an asshole, Matt Marsh,” Lucia says. Matt stops in his tracks.
He turns around and walks back towards us. “What did you say?”
“I said you’re an asshole, Matt Marsh,” she repeats, walking towards him as well.
“How dare you?”
“But I do. Go play with your ex in Vancouver. But I want you here for two days every two to three weeks.” She looks at me before adding. “You’re done screwing with me.”
Matt looks all fired up. I don’t remember the last time anyone spoke to him this way. He walks even closer to her. I know he would never do anything stupid but just in case, I put myself between them.
“Back off, Matt. Go to your wife. You’ve done and said enough,” I tell firmly him. We stare each other down for a moment until Matt walks away to Beesly. I turn to Lucia, “Lucia, listen –”
“Don’t bother,” she says before going back to the studio.
I finally find Beesly in one of the meeting rooms, by herself, wiping her tears. Bastard! She turns around as soon as she hears me and smiles. Poor girl; I think she’s finally realized what she got herself into when she agreed to become Mrs Marsh. Where is that wanker anyway?
“Hey, Cushion,” she says as I sit beside her. She hits me gently with her shoulder. “He went to see Lloyd and Callia. Maybe I should have gone home with the other British guy that day. If it hadn’t been for bloody Mary…”
“Hey, B. It may have been the wrong choice, but you’ve been doing great this past six years,” I tell her. I was still with Mary when we met Beesly; those two could never get along, then or now. “The American,” Mary calls her. Mary! – I’ve been avoiding her calls since I got here. I know they’re not about her upcoming album.
“Did she really call him an asshole?” she asks, referring to Lucia.
“Twice,” I laugh. “She’s…gutsy.”
“And a bit foolish,” Beesly continues.
“But a good friend,” I finish.
She smiles. “That she is.” she turns and faces me. “An amazing one.” She gets up. “He’s leaving tomorrow afternoon, so I guess I’ll be heading back to LA as well.”
“There you are!” Lucia says behind us and quickly moves over to her friend. “I called for reinforcement. We’re having a girls’ night.”
Beesly smiles, a nice, warm, happy smile. “But Matt –”
“He’s leaving later tonight,” Lucia reveals. She turns to me. “A real class act.”
“What?” Beesly and I both say. He was supposed to leave tomorrow. A class act indeed. And, of course, Lucia is the one breaking the news.
“I need to talk to him. Where is he?”
Lucia shrugs. “Recording with Lee before heading back to the hotel.”
Really? More recording? His meeting upstairs didn’t go too well.
“Which songs?” I ask Lucia.
“One of mine and a couple of yours,” she absently tells me – Okay, I get it, Lucia. You’re pissed off – “Anyway, Marcus can take care of it. You and I are going to lunch and pack your things. You’re staying with me. Think of it as a vacation away from LA.”
“Luce…” Beesly says, hugging her. There are too many female’s emotions going on for my comfort. But it’s nice to see Beesly opening up to someone that’s not Matt for a change.
“We’re soul sister remember! Wait until you meet Noor,” she adds. “My apartment is not a penthouse, but I have a spare room with its own en suite. It’s cozy. Ask Marcus.”
Bloody hell! Did she just say that? Beesly shoots me a questioning gaze and Lucia simply waits for my stamp of approval.
“Her place is very homey, very nice indeed. And Noor is…” I answer, looking Lucia straight in the eyes.
“See! Straight from the horse’s mouth,” she says. “Let’s go. We’ll talk on the way,”
she adds, taking her hand.
“Thank you, Luce,” Beesly finally says and they both leave the room. Time to speak to Matt and know what the hell is going on.
Matt signals me as soon as he notices my presence in the studio. I think he wants me to press the intercom. When he sees that I’m not doing it, he leaves the room. He’s all jolly and excited when he enters the studio. I guess leaving your ball and chain behind is supposed to make you feel this way.
“Smoke break?” he asks.
Why does he look so happy? It’s pissing me off.
“I don’t smoke and I don’t need a break.” I open the door. “We need to talk, Matt.” I tilt my head to Lee. “In private.”
“Alright. Let’s go then.”
“We’ll be back in bit, Lee,” I tell him and close the door.
We silently walk to the elevator. Matt turns to me and tries on a smile. No, mate! Not what I feel like doing. I think he’s finally realizing that something is wrong. By the time we get to my office, he has his famous game face on. It’s show time.
“Love the songs, mate. And Lee was doing a fantastic job there,” he says.
“Are you joking? Lucia and I wrote those for you weeks ago and you couldn’t stand them!”
He seems surprised. “Must be the new arrangements – you or Lee.”
Seriously? “No, no changes; just you being a bigger dick thank usual.” I walk closer to him. “The biggest you have ever been. Are you going completely mad?”
“Listen, about Beesly –”
“Stop, Matt! You beg me to come here and save your precious album. You’re jerking us around for weeks and then you decide to go off to become an actor! And with all this you can’t even bring your own wife. She was crying; you made her cry for no reason! So just stop!”
Matt stares me down for a while before saying, “Is this about Lucia?”
“You mean the only person who gave a damn and has been taking all your crap like a pro, while I’ve been hiding behind friendship? She booked the G Band for you,” I tell him.
“Yeah, Marcus, she did her job. Wow, I thought you already shagged her,” he smirks back.
I may have deserved that one, but Lucia didn’t. “You are a real class act. She’s taking your wife in. You know, taking care of her while you’re in Vancouver doing God-knows-what with Linda.”
A very confused Matt takes out his phone. Ringing Beesly, I presume. “Where the bloody hell are you?” he asks. I can hear Beesly’s voice and see his expression changing. “Why? You could stay at the hotel…or go back to LA… Beesly, this is a no. I don’t want you to… Beesly?… Beesly?” he shuts off his phone. “She fucking hung up on me!” He yells. Uh-oh. His hands are shaking; he’s dialing the number again. Nothing! She must have turned off her phone. She’s coming back here anyway. “That’s her fault!” he tells me. “She turned her against me.”
“By caring about her when you only cared about yourself?” I say. I shake my head; pure denial. “It’s just never your fault.”
“That little –”
“Shut the fuck up, Matt, and grow up!” I tell Matt. I walk to the door and open it. “This will be our last time working together. No more rescuing.” I leave the office with Matt walking behind me. We stop in front of the elevator. “You messed up! Fix it! But leave Lucia out of it…mate,” I say as the elevator doors are opening.
“Would you quit staring!” Lucia tells me for the fifth time today. She presses her fingers to her forehead. This is the third time in the past week that she’s shown up with what appears to be a hangover. What have she and Beesly been up to? And what’s with the thick Londoner accent? And all I can say about her hair is that it’s a sexy mess, covering her face on and off, and she hasn’t even bothered to put makeup on, which is kind of refreshing really, to see her face like that.
“Marcus!”
“You’re freaking me out, okay,” I finally tell her. I give her back her lyrics with my notes on them. “What’s with the accent? Even when you say my name.”
She moves her hair away from her face and sits back in her office chair. This is going to be a long meeting. But at least things have changed since the last time I was in here six weeks ago.
“I tend to slip back to my London accent during hangovers,” she says. She drinks part of her…I really don’t know what this mixture is supposed to be. “You should hear Noor. She sounds like a Notting Hill fishmonger. Didn’t you notice it that morning? It was brutal!”
“Right…” I’m not sure what to say about that. I read the rest of the file she emailed me. We have recorded seven songs and even the G band have recorded their tracks. It has been a very productive week. We should be ready for more in a couple of weeks; just in time for Matt to come and save the day – or just make it worst. I look up again and Lucia is playing with her locket.
“Seriously! Cut it out!” she shouts when she catches me staring again. “I don’t look that horrible.”
She’s just too cute and funny. And of course I just have to laugh, which makes it worse. I think she’s about to murder me now. “Horrible! Please don’t fish for compliments. You could never even be close to that word.”
She pushes the plate full of delicious macaroons towards me. “You earned yourself another cookie.” She takes one as well. “Don’t flirt with hangover women, Marcus. That’s just desperate.”
I laugh while taking a cookie. “Right. I’ll try to control myself. I’ll just knock on their door in the morning and…” I eat a mint flavor one. It just melts in my mouth and all the flavors explode in my head. How is she able to bake like that?
“Do I need to leave you and the macaroon alone?” she says, bursting out laughing. But then she stops and grimaces. “It’s hurt to laugh. No more wine-tasting Sundays. Smashed is not a great color on me.”
“Getting shit-faced on a Sunday? I thought you would be a good influence on Beesly,” I say. I keep reading her lyrics; they’re good. This ballad sounds more a song for Beesly, only no room for Matt there. He could play his guitar during the song. I’ll write him a nice solo or Lucita will.
“Hey…It wasn’t my fault…this time. Noor came by –”
“Do all your stories start this way?” I say with a small laugh. Noor – always the one to blame.
“As I was saying,” she continues, ignoring my comment. “Nooradine came by with fabric samples for her bridesmaids.”
“And they will be wearing different type of wines. Therefore, you tasted a few?”
“Hush! We just opened a couple of bottles as we were talking about them. Beesly’s personal assistant sent her a couple of cases of vintage sauvignon blanc,” she adds. Her phone buzzes. “So one thing led to another… It’s really B’s fault.” She winks at me. Her phone buzzes again. She takes it out and responds while drinking the awful-looking mixture again.
“Everything alright?”
She puts down the phone and smiles. “Just Beesly. She’s upstairs with a few journalists and has a photo shoot later today. The thing about B is –”
“She can drink like a fish but it doesn’t affect her,” I laugh. “Yes, I knew that. How did you think an American got herself a wild British boy like Matt?”
“Bad Karma? She’s so tiny. Where does it all go?” she asks me and she looks like she’s expecting an answer. “I have to drink my detox shake just to make it through the day. It’s not fair,” she adds, looking at her sheets. “We did get a little trashed on Saturday while watching a few romantic comedies,” she finally murmurs.
“Let me guess: Noor – no, Nooradine’s – idea?”
“Sod off!” she yells back. “Anyway…do you like the song?” she wiggles her papers. “This is what this session is about.” She takes a final sip of the shake. “Not my oh-so-very-classy Monday look.”
“The song’s great, but it’s a solo. Where’s Matt’s portion, if any?”
“I didn’t feel like the song would translate well if sung by a daft prick,” she answers, very n
onchalantly, I may add. “Maybe the next one.”
Matt didn’t leave things in such a great state between him and Lucia – no apology, but that was no real surprise. Going to Lloyd and Callia about this was also a wrong move on his part and it didn’t accomplish anything. She’s the lead producer of Beesly & Matt, so he will have to work for them both. “Lucia…” I warn her.
“I’ll say the next one, Marcus. So back off, alright?” she warns. Her phone rings this time. “I’m still in the middle of my brooding phase,” she adds before picking up.
Nice going idiot! “I’ll shut up now.”
“You do that,” she whispers back, covering her phone. “Hi, Kathie. Is it lunchtime already?” She raises an eyebrow. “I certainly need a… No… Really?” Now I want to know what’s going on too. Her facial expression has suddenly changed; she’s just lit up. She gets up, still on the phone. “I’ll be right down!” she says, ready to leave the room. “Greg is back!” she tells me all excited.
“Greg?” I ask and follow her of her office. “No, really; who the fuck is that bloke?”
Gregory McMullan. I never made the connection before. Kathie McMullan, Callia and Lloyd’s executive assistant, is his younger sister. Who knew? Not me. I have could handle the hugs and kisses; Lucia has hugged almost everybody in this building at some point since I’ve been here. The oohs and the aahs were all girls’ chit-chat to me But Greg and Lucia didn’t hug. They embraced and he never completely let her go. I’m certain he’s still embracing her in the dance studio right now. I left. It’s a place for business and I have work to do. I was not jealous.
On her way down to meet him, in the elevator, I saw her checking herself in the mirrors for the first time today, trying to fix her hair, straightening out her white, cotton, knee-length tube dress. She seemed so happy. When we arrived in the dance studio, Lucia still hadn’t told me who we were there to greet. She ran – yes, ran – toward a man next to Kathie: a tall, lean, but very fit bloke who looks a lot like McMullan, one of the best choreographers in the business. He smiled and almost laughed when he saw her.
This Could Have Been Our Song!: A coulda woulda shoulda ballad Page 8