“Yeobo[7]!” he said then widely opened his arms to her. And then started the never-ending embrace with “his sweet”, as he called her.
“You’re back early! What happened?” she asked him.
“Lulu, have you indulged yourself in a bit binge drinking last night?” he asked and kissed her on the tip of her nose. “I’m sure Noor is ready to sell her fishes right now.”
They both laughed. Inside jokes – fantastic! I’m not jealous. I got closer and said hello to Kathie then turned to Greg.
“McMullan, fancy meeting you here.” Not really. I offered my hand.
Greg released “Lulu” but kept her close, leaving one hand on her lower back. The other was shaking mine.
“Grant, I’ve heard you were down here,” he said very seriously. He looked at Lucia and lowered his face closer to hers. Was he going to kiss her? No. She softly pushed his face, laughing.
“I look horrid today.”
“Museoun[8] you? Please, this is not even a possibility,” he told her, touching her cheek. Back to me, “Has Marsh been behaving himself? Or has he been his usual unpleasant self?”
What no “quit it” for him? Flirting with a hung-over woman was obviously not desperate if you looked like Greg.
“He’s been –”
“A real dickhead and I’ve been busy as hell. But who cares! How long are you here for?” Lucia asked.
Who cares? Only us and let’s not forget her own soul sister, Beesly; we’ve been working on this album for a month and a half now and have shed our blood – figuratively speaking – sweat and more than a few tears on it. I was still not jealous.
“Figures. I’m only here until Friday, Lulu. Then gone for another three to five months.” Then he started to nod like he wanted her to know or guess something. And she did.
“You got it? You got it!” she told him and went for another hug – like they weren’t close enough already.
So what did he get? I still don’t know. I was praying for a ticket out of there.
“Yes, but I have to start rehearsals next week for at least a month then I’m on the road for another four. So I came to see the folks for a bit,” he answered her. Then it’s back to me. “Callia told me that Beesly & Matt would be touring early winter.” Back to Lucia. “I’ll be choreographing most of it. So, I’ll be back soon, Lulu. But not in time for Noor and Andrew’s wedding. Sorry, jagiya[9].”
“It’s fine. So she won’t have the option to run away with you!” she teased then checked her phone quickly. “You’re doing the tour! Great! We have a few songs ready and, long story short, Beesly is my new roomie. She’s a-ma-zing! I can’t wait for you to meet her.”
We talked for a few more minutes about the album and Greg’s plan for the week; he was going to a family dinner with his sister, Kathie. She was in the studio with us and was immensely enjoying the strange situation between Lucia, Greg and I. Especially when Lucia pointed out the fact that Greg missed her birthday.
“You weren’t there… Kathie was at your grandparents’ anniversary celebration,” Lucia pouted.
“I know and I’m sorry, dalkomhan[10] Lulu.” He kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll take you out tomorrow; you and your new soul sister.”
“Alright then,” she said, obviously on her way back to sobriety as her accent had been slowly fading.
I was there. I even gave her a gift. But I wasn’t the same for our Lulu. She needed to have her perfect specimen of a dancer – aka Greg – there. Nothing said swagger like an Irish-Korean dancer that dropped Korean in his sentences just because he could. Really, I was not jealous at all, but that was my cue to leave.
“Right, I’m heading to the recording studio to see Lee,” I quickly said. I turned to Greg. “McMullan, always a pleasure mate.” Then Lucia. “See you later maybe after lunch?”
“Sure,” she answered absently.
Fine! I bid my goodbyes and went upstairs. That was over an hour ago. I’ve been with Lee, listening to the tracks we have so far and starting to do some editing with the G Band tracks. This is one of the most unproductive sessions I have ever had. I can’t concentrate. Where is she?
“Lee, are Greg and Lucia…a couple?” I carefully ask. I have to ask it even though I already know the response.
“Umm… I thought that you and Lucia were one,” he says without looking at me.
Maybe I don’t know the response after all. “What? How come?”
“On the down low, so no one knows,” he continues then looks at me. “No? Not since…you know…her birthday?”
I shake my head. So everybody knows about this?
“Oh that explains a lot. I just thought you were in the dog house because of Matt. No, they’re not a couple…not yet anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
Lee is completely facing me now. “They’ve know each other for ten years. However, nothing has happened…yet; but I’m pretty sure Greg wouldn’t mind at all.”
Bugger! Any idiots could see that. Nonetheless, I’m not jealous at all. Why would I be?
I’m still not jealous but I’m getting a little aggravated by this…situation. Greg McMullan has graced us with his presence for the past couple of days, in our recording studio. There’s not a lot of dancing to be done here. But Lulu hasn’t minded at all. He has even charmed Beesly and now all I hear is Greg this and Greg that. No more mentions of Matt; my poor mate has become old news for his own wife. And good old Lee, another handsome bugger walking around his studio, is just a cherry on top of the cake.
Lucia. When she’s not sending him text messages she’s making him listen to her completed tracks from the album or the incomplete ones, letting him hang out with us and carefully listening to his advices. What in the world is going on? She hasn’t brought a single pastry in for three days. And his hands are all over her – on her back, her arms, her face, her neck – just all over her. But she has smiled and laughed so many times in past two days, I feel like a wanker now for the past weeks with Matt. I look at her across the studio. She’s concentrating on the back-up singers on the other side of the glass. Her hair is pulled back in a tight, straight ponytail; her neck, shoulders, arms and part of her back are exposed. Next to her, McMullan is tapping to the music with his fingers on her arms and shoulders. Our eyes lock. I get up and leave the room. What is he doing here anyway? But I’m still not jealous. At that same moment my phone rings. It’s Nella. I hope nothing happened to John. I can’t remember the last time Nella called.
“Hey, Marcus. Don’t worry; it’s not about John,” she tells me. Can she guess my thoughts?
“Hi, Nella. What can I do you for?” I say more hastily that I had intended, looking at the studio door.
“Your mother called,” she coolly replies. Then silence, I’m sure to make me pay for my tone earlier. “She’s fine, but she couldn’t reach –”
“My mobile? Odd. Anyway, I’ll ring her back later. Thank you.” I can’t help it; I’m just in a foul mood. “I’m sorry, Nella. I’m just not having a good day.”
“Lucia? I though you guys made up. Hasn’t she been feeding you pastries almost every day in the past month?”
Not for the past two days she hasn’t. “What do you mean by ‘made up’?”
“You know. Whatever you British men call it!” she giggles.
“We’re not…this way, alright. It’s just work and now some dancer is messing this up.” But I’m still not jealous. This isn’t jealousy at all.
“Okay… Is Noor creating an issue? That –”
“Greg McMullan! Wow, you really don’t like this bird!”
“Oh…That’s true. Greg is in Toronto? Say hi for me please.”
“I’m enjoying the support, Nella. What’s with this bloke anyway? Even Beesly is completely smitten by him.”
“He’s hot. I mean, forget the tall, six-foot, lean but muscly body of the fantastic dancer he is. His hazel eyes alone…his mouth, speaking fucking Korean!”
“Again, Ne
lla, I’m really enjoying your support. I’m taller, my eyes are green and I too speak fluent Korean.” I’m still not jealous. I can hear her laughing on the other line.
“Well, this is serious. Listen, Greg and the Mpobo-Riddell girls go way back. I’m talking years – ten, maybe more. He was Lucia’s dance partner if I remember. What did he do?”
“Nothing… He’s just here all the time, at the studio, in the lunch room, her office; just everywhere…with Lucia.”
“Marcus, you’re irresistible. You’re in great shape, have a killer smile and a of course the British accent. You guys just need to kiss and make up already.”
Not the pep talk I wanted nor needed. “We’re fine, Nella. We’ve been fine for weeks. I’m just not that comfortable with Greg and her together all the time.”
Nella stays quiet for a couple of minutes. “Does she know about Mary? And I meant the whole story.”
Bollocks! “How do you know about Mary? And how much of the whole story?”
“Who’s Mary?” Lucia asks. She is standing by the door. I didn’t even hear her coming out of the studio. How long has she been here?
“Nella, I have to ring you back.” I’m quickly hanging up on her. “Mary Gillis, the singer: the one I’m going to have to go to in a few months.”
She smiles, even looks relieved, and crosses her arms below her chest, which exposes even more of her cleavage through her sundress. “Are you okay?” she asks while walking closer to me, very close to me, the smell of vanilla and cocoa better. I haven’t smelt that in weeks. Has Greg smelt it all that time? Nope. I’m not jealous.
I hesitate for a moment. But what the hell! I step even closer, right at the center of her aroma. “Does he have to be here?” Now that I’ve started I can’t stop. “And how many names do you have? Lulu, Lucia, Lucita, Luce; I’m losing count.”
“Is that what this is all about? Lucia Cassidy Ann; that’s my name. My parents called me Luce and my friends too. Lucita was my stage name, like Tonio calls himself Tito. Lulu is Greg’s pet name for me. Oh and my nephew calls me Atalu; do you want me to complain that too?” She holds my jacket’s sleeves and pulls me even closer. “And really? Greg? Why do you even care?” She lets go of me. “Don’t answer that. I’ll ask him to leave. Happy now?”
“Ecstatic!” I say sarcastically. I want to take it back, but I can’t.
“Okay then… Lee needs you inside.” She walks back to the studio.
So…maybe I’m a little jealous of Greg and his Lulu.
I don’t miss the London traffic, but being stranded on the Lakeshore Boulevard to get to the Studio District where Noël-Sarrow is located has proven to be a trial of patience every mornings. But this is a good day. No, a great day – Greg’s last day in Toronto, at last. I haven’t seen a lot of him this past two days and I’m fine with that. Lucia mentioned something about rehearsals elsewhere. I couldn’t care less. Good riddance!
I turn on my speakers as I notice a phone call from Mum. I forgot to ring her back.
“Forget to ring back your mummy, Cushion?”
“Hi, Mum. Before you’re reprimand me, I just have to let you know that I’m driving a very busy street.” I adjust the sound. “You’ve called my London number instead of my Canadian one. Is there a reason for that?”
“I’m old,” she says, laughing.
“I miss you,” I laugh back. I really do. “And you’re not that old.” Barely fifty-five.
“I miss you too, love. I’ve called regarding the charity auction next week.” Like every year, she will shamelessly use her son’s connections. “There was a really nice article in The Times last week about Beesly & Matt.”
“Say no more. I’ll have it autographed for you. I can find a copy or just send me one.” I check the road; finally some movements. I’ve been stuck here for over ten minutes. “How much do you think you’ll get for it?”
“At least five hundreds quid.”
“That much! For an autograph?”
“Autographs. I want yours and the other producer as well. It will then be unique. Charismas’ as well if you can; anyone mentioned in the article.”
I understand Charisma, even mine but… “Lucia’s?”
“Yes. I have a consultation in five minutes but I’ve been meaning to ask you… Her name is Mpobo-Riddell. Does she have any sisters?”
Strange. “As a matter of fact, she does. Two; one named Noor and an older one named –”
“Axelle! Oh my god. Eleanor Riddell’s girls.” She sounds so excited.
“I beg your pardon. You know the Mpobo-Riddells?” And why is this the first time I hear about this? I’m finally passing the DVP; I should be there soon.
“I knew their mother and their father when he was alive. I danced at that wedding. Your aunt Sue was in love with Axel Mpobo but sassy Eleanor got him first.”
“Unbelievable! When was that?” I reach my exit Eastern Avenue.
“The Riddell big wedding…? 1973. Eleanor was five months’ pregnant. With Axelle…by Axel.”
“Wicked!” I park my car and turn off the engine. “Wait a minute. Are talking about the same Riddell?”
“The really rich ones? Yes.” So Lucia is well off. Why is she working? She loves music this much? “Big grey eyes, fantastic looking and natural-born dancers?” Mum adds.
“Spot on! That’s Noor and Lucia. I haven’t met Axelle or their mother. Is she still in London?”
“No.” She doesn’t say anything.
“Mum?”
“She…she abandoned them about fifteen years ago. In the South of France, four years after her husband, their father, died, never to be seen or heard of again.”
“What? Lucia was just a child! Who raised her?”
“Her sisters. Who else?”
I must have been silent for quite some times before I hear my mum again. “Are you alright, Cushion? My consultation is here.”
“I’m fine. I just can’t imagine not having you in my life all these years. Or even losing Dad…ever.”
“I love you too, Marcus. Next time ring me back.”
“I will. Bye, Mum.” I disconnect the line. I stay in my car for a few more minutes. Lucia and her sisters; it does explain a lot. It explains her, her bond with Noor and even Axelle, who I haven’t met yet. The British accent, that blasted hung-over accent. So this is how the Lucita legend came to be. No parents, just sisters to take care of her; no wonder she could go on tour with the G Band when she was only a teenager. This is why all stories start with Noor or Axelle and why there are none about her mum; why Greg matters to her this much, a man who treats her the way she deserves to be treated. I’ve been a real dickhead, no better than Matt. We’re that dense in England after all. It took me six weeks to understand that.
I head to the building, knowing exactly where to find her. The dance studio with McMullan; she mentioned this a few times yesterday. I arrive and stay at the door. Beesly is here too, sitting in the corner cheering on. Lucia and Greg are dancing to “Kiss from a Rose”. She is a natural-born dancer, but also a classically trained one it seems. I don’t even think they’re aware of my presence. Beesly sees me and waves. He’s lifting her as if she weights nothing. I just can’t take my eyes off her. She’s glowing in a skin-color leotard with matching tight, short and dark leg warmers. Her hair is completely untied and moving along with her. Simply breathtaking…
“I’m so rusty,” Lucia lets out, a bit out of breath, at the end of her dance.
Is she joking? I knew she was good. But this was just…perfect.
“Luce, you were amazing!” Beesly says.
Greg is still holding her. “Lulu, I still can’t believe you stopped performing. You’re just so good.”
“Thanks, but I’m no Noor and I certainly can’t dance like Axelle.”
Greg spins her and lifts her again. Now he’s just showing off.
“This routine is nine years old. And you’re still nailing it Lulu,” he tells her.
She s
ees me. “Hi, Marcus. What brings you here?”
You. “You two were terrific!”
“Thank you, Tickle Toes,” she jokes.
“You remember. Can I talk to you in private?”
She nods and follows me outside. “Sorry I’m a bit parched.”
“You look lovely,” I tell her once we’re alone.
“Thanks.” She’s blushing.
“You always do.”
She crosses her arms. She really needs to stop doing that. Her leotard didn’t cover a lot to begin with. “This is going to be good,” she says.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay; we were just messing around in there.”
I started this, now I have to finish it. “I’m sorry for what I’ve done to you before and after your birthday. I should have told you who I was.”
A very shocked Lucia is staring back at me.
“It has come to my attention that I’ve never apologized for my actions, or explained them.”
She’s still very shocked.
“I was an idiot. I went there to meet you, then I saw you and –”
“I saw you,” she says slowly.
“Yes you did,” I reply and can’t help smiling. I come closer. “Hey, Luce.”
She comes closer. “Hollaback, Just Marcus.”
“When you dance, you just come alive. You’re on a whole new level.” I move her hair from her face.
“What the fuck took you so long, Just Marcus?” she asks me almost as whisper. She starts to move away from me. “I thought I’d never see that sight of you again.”
“I –”
“Don’t answer that…yet. I’ve got to get back inside.” She’s now close to the door. “Back to Greg,” she adds before closing the door behind her.
I smile. So maybe I’m more than a little jealous. Big deal! I need to speak to Mary as soon as possible.
Lucia – A Guitar Solo
This Could Have Been Our Song!: A coulda woulda shoulda ballad Page 9