“The one with Beesly,” Axelle says, serving Noor another glass. “I’ve heard of it. You have to do a lot of stretching with it.” She blows me a kiss. “Good for you, Luce, and shame on you, Noor.”
Nice try, Noor. My turn now. I pour myself another margarita. How many have I had so far? Three or four glasses? Do I even care? I feel warm and tickly. “Andrew is holding out on Noor…sexually?” Bam!
“You don’t say,” Axelle giggles. She finishes her drink and pours another. “What did you do to shift the balance of power?”
“I don’t want to have the suburban house and baby talk right now. It has only been a week.” She empties her drink. “Thanks, big mouth.”
Liar, liar, shorts on fire! “You told me five days,” I tell Noor. I turn to Axelle, “Anyway, did I tell you I was dancing again. Just for fun of course. Not like you or Noor.”
“Oh, I’m so happy!” Axelle gets up and hugs me. “So are you shagging anyone?”
So, I guess we’re back on me. I finish my drink. “Nope.”
“Why the bloody hell not? Isn’t that Marcus bloke still in town?” she asks. And another drink.
“She doesn’t know what she wants,” Noor interjects. Another drink there too. “Greg or Marcus.”
“Greg was in town? Don’t you dare break that young man’s heart…again!” She raises her glass to me and wiggling her finger.
“I never broke his heart!” I tell Axelle. “Greg is one of my closest friends. And I don’t have a lot of those.”
“Hey…you have us,” Noor says.
“My point exactly, Noor,” I say.
“That poor kid was so in love with you back at the dancing academy and he’s still in love you.” Axelle gives me the most loving look. “Who could blame him? My baby is breathtaking.”
“Aw, I love you too, Lelly.” I give her a kiss. “But I’m not going to sleep with Greg. Ever.”
“Right.” Axelle winks at me.
“Your loss. That man is ravishing,” Noor says.
I know he is, inside and out. Let’s change the subject. “Lelly, do you have a dress for the launch party?” I innocently ask.
“Yes I do. An original Renee G creation. She sent it to me earlier this week,” she proudly says. Of course anything for Mrs Anderson. “So… Are you bringing someone?”
Where did this come from? I look to Noor for cover, but she’s too sloshed to be of any help.
“Well are you?” Noor asks.
“Can I bring Beesly?”
“Are you going to be shagging her after? I thought she was married. And straight? And so are you. We were thinking about a man,” Lelly tells me, laughing.
“No! Gosh, Lelly… Marcus then,” I say and I cannot take it back.
“Are you going to be shagging him after?” Noor asks.
“It’s good PR for us. There will be no shagging! Please stop asking or saying it. Understood.” I’m losing my buzz. Another drink it is.
“Okay,” Noor chuckles.
“Right,” Axelle giggles.
“Somebody needs to take that stick out of her butt, or just –” Axelle says.
“Enough!” I clumsily get up. My buzz hasn’t gone after all. “I’m going home…in a taxi…I think.”
“I was just going to say –” Axelle continues.
“It has been months after all since –” Noor says at the same time.
“I got the picture, thanks. Bye.” I’m ready to leave.
“Please stay. We’re sorry,” Noor begs. “We just want you to get some because we care.”
“And you can’t leave yet. We haven’t played refugee African princesses yet,” Axelle begs.
I do like to play that bar game. Axelle is the best story teller.“One more drink and then we go home,” I say sitting back down.
“Okay,” Noor chuckles.
“Right,” Axelle giggles.
Our fourth pitcher arrives and Axelle fills our drinks.
“I don’t have to deal with that kind of shit when I drink with Beesly,” I say, sulking.
“She’s your soul sister. We’re blood and, Luce, it’s thinker than water and wine,” Noor literally burps out. She looks around. “We should get some wine!”
“We’re not going anywhere anytime soon are we?” I say, smiling at my crazy sisters. Let the game begin. We’ll worry about getting home later – much, much later…
“Your old-fashion frittata’s ready and looks lovely if I may say so myself,” I tell Axelle while placing her plate in front of her. We made it home around midnight. Andrew, our usual savior, came to pick us up, blessed his heart. Also he knew that he would have to do it as he was the one who dropped us off yesterday. Lelly decided to stay with me and not go back to her family for the night. Turned out it was always her plan; Paul dropped her off yesterday and took the kids to his parents in London...Ontario. So it was a sleepover just like old times, Lelly and I sharing a bed, minus the drunkenness.
She takes a bite and closes her eyes. “This is divine, Luce. You’re the best cook I’ve known since Dad.” She looks so refreshed compared to me. My head is still pounding. “I can’t cook a thing and you’ve been glued to the kitchen since you were old enough walk and hold a spoon. Such a daddy’s girl!”
“No, you’re the daddy’s girl. How could a man who grew up in Central Africa know how to cook a frittata so well?” I look at Axelle. My beautiful oldest sister squeezes my hand and keeps eating. “Okay why aren’t you hangover?”
“Because I’ve been getting sloshed since the eighties! This was just another night after a Charisma concert for me. Luce, the Riddells are originally from Scotland and Belgium; tequila can’t keep us down!” she proudly says.
“Sure. It was nice of Andrew to come and pick us up,” I casually say. I know Axelle is not a big fan. She takes a sip of her orange juice, spiced up with some Alize I believe, but says nothing. “Maybe seeing Noor with all those men has triggered his passion back.”
“He’s a straight, male performer spending his days with a bunch of gay ones. He should embrace female companionship. Any besides,” Lelly says. She gets up and puts the dishes in the sink. “He knew what he got himself into.”
“To his defense, Noor shouldn’t avoid the talk; I’m not an expert in relationships –”
“That’s the understatement of the year. You couldn’t see one if it hit you in the face.” She sits across from me. “At least it will give you time to figure out who you want to be, inside and outside a relationship. Unlike Nooradine.” She caresses my cheek. “About Andrew; it’s not about the talk. At least not the same talk. He received the pre-nuptial contract a couple of week ago.”
What! We do that? “Since when are we doing that? Does Noor know?”
“We have money, Luce; Granddaddy would never agree to pay for a wedding if he couldn’t secure the family’s heritage. It’s not personal. At least not for him.”
“That’s not fair! So Andrew didn’t have the chance to lose his dad and inherit a quarter of a million pounds. That doesn’t make him a gold digger! Did Paul sign one?” I must be trembling with anger because Axelle comes to me for a big hug.
“Lovey, even Papa signed one. It’s not about the insurance money. It’s about the Riddell’s,” she tells me in a comforting voice. She kisses my forehead, like when I used to have bad dreams. “Paul is different; he met mum and dad. That’s how long he has been in our lives. But, yes, he signed it without even looking at it. So did Papa.”
“So why’s Andrew being such a baby about it?” I ask myself out loud. And why isn’t Noor talking to him about that? Paul doesn’t need a dime from Axelle. He owns or co-owns half of the clubs in the side of the Atlantic Ocean and has Axelle for his queen.
“Honey, I did the best I could with you girls. But sometimes I feel like I need to bring you back home with me. Like you’re not ready to fly solo quite yet.” She starts to cry a little.
“Lelly, you did amazing. Sorry I can be such a handful sometime
,” I say, hugging her this time.
“Please! You? The one who didn’t pursuit dance and cooks like a real chef without even trying? The one who bought her first flat with the money she had actually earned, not the one sitting at the bank? Lucia Cassidy Ann, you’re finding your own way and for that I’m so very proud,” she whispers in my ear.
“Thank you,” I whisper back.
“Noor; she needs to define her ground in this relationship and quick. Andrew is not a bad guy. I just don’t think he gets her as well as a future husband should,” she says, louder now.
“They love each other so much and he knows how crazy she can be.”
“But does he accept all or any of it really? Do you think he would let her buy their house? He sure can’t afford that on his own. I bought my house and decorated it. Paul was more than happy to pitch in but only when I asked; he knew it was something I needed to do on my own.”
“We can’t all find a Paul, Lelly. How many men would accept getting kicked out of their own bed by a crying thirteen-year-old girl…over and over again?”
She leaves my side and gets her bag. “Of course you can. This was just part of the package. I wouldn’t have married him otherwise; he has always let me be who I needed to be – the big sister, the surrogate mother, the financial planner, the party girl – as long as it makes me happy. And he always, always makes me feel safe and loved.”
I get up and grab my bag and keys. I’ll clean up later. We’re supposed to crash the dance studio today for our special dance number at the wedding. We leave the apartment for my car and I’m so happy I didn’t have to pick it up anywhere today.
Axelle puts a CD on. “So, what do you think? Summer 1999! She literally thought she was the girl in the song!” she says, laughing.
“Livin’ La Vida Loca? She’s going to kill us. Fantastic!”
“Smashing, right? Ricky Martin it is then,” she tells me as I leave the parking lot.
This is not really happening… I’m not actually making out with Marcus right now. On the sofa, in John’s penthouse, in the middle of day. How did I get here? Until this moment I was in control, or was I ever? I have to rewind to that blasted Sunday on the studio with Axelle. That’s where it all began.
One of my pure pleasures in life is watching Axelle dance. She can do no wrong. We rehearsed for a few hours in Noël-Sarrow’s dance studio. I haven’t listened Ricky Martin for this long and so many times since… Noor forced it upon us ten years ago.
“I’m thinking go-go style for the outfits,” I told Lelly completely out of breath. I was begging for a cool down and a warm shower before Marcus got here.
“Leather boots, leather bra, leather shorts. I’m in.” Axelle was gearing up for another try; I could see it in her eyes. We were already all sweaty; no body suits today, just our sport bras and loose sweat pants. “Okay, let’s take it from the top. You’re doing great but I need your legs to go much higher during the first chorus. You’re the pirouette queen. So get back out there.” She remotely started the music again.
We started dancing and I noticed Marcus in the corner of the studio by the benches, off the stage. How long had he been here? I usually sensed his presence every times he had been spying on me. I tried to stay concentrated on my routine for the next thirty seconds and executed my pirouette like a pro.
“Much better, Luce!” Axelle said and patted my back. “Cool down, ChicaLu?”
“Please, MamaLu!” I put myself in position for our cool-down routine: the same one we have been doing for two decades and to the same song – “Ballerina Girl”. “Hit it!”
As we danced, Lelly and I in pure synergy, something we hadn’t done in maybe five or six years, I looked at Marcus the entire time. His eyes were glued on us; he went from Axelle to me and vice-versa like he was seeing people dance for the first time. Quite touching, especially for someone that had a world-renowned dancer as a best friend. He came up on the stage after they were done.
“Bloody hell! It was like there was only one of you up there,” he told me.
I gave Axelle a towel. “Hi Marcus. You’re early. What are you doing here now?”
“Like you don’t know, Lucia,” he said straight into my eyes. We stared at each other for a while. “You always know when I’m here watching you.” He gave me that all-too-intimate smile.
An all-too-quiet Axelle cleared her throat and come closer. “So this is the Marcus.” She offered her hand. “How do you do?”
“You’re British!” Marcus told Axelle, shaking her hand. “Axelle I presume? Very nice to finally meet you,” he said and gave her his best, sexiest smile. What a charmer this one! His eyes went from me to Axelle. “So now I know what happened to the triplets of Belleville,” he joked.
Axelle laughed. “I know we look a bit alike.”
“Yes. In so many ways.” Marcus looked at me. “No. In so many more,” he added.
I smiled and of course Lelly didn’t miss a bit.
“Right… He’s a rather dashing bloke, Luce,” she said to me. She hit me lightly in the face then she shrugged.
“What was that for, Lelly?”
“Exactly, Luce. My work is done.”
Right… not an expert in relationships, got it Lelly.“Anyways, Marcus, this is my very British oldest sister, Axelle Anderson.”
Marcus hesitated for a minute but finally said. “This is going to sound insane but have we met? And I’m not referring to your striking resemblance.”
“Nope.”
“Luce! Manners please!” She turned to Marcus. “No, Love, I would have remembered you,” she toyed and smiled. What was going on? Axelle was flirting and Marcus was eating it up. Cougar!
“Right, but just humor me. Where were you on August 17th 1998?”
That would have been a random date if it wasn’t Axelle’s actual birthday day.
“Oh my gosh!” Axelle said, turning to me.
“Why do you ask and why that date?” I asked Marcus.
“It’s the day I fell in love for the first time. I was in –”
“In Glasgow!” Axelle and I both said.
How could he have recognized her? It was during the Charisma Farewell Tour; Axelle was the choreographer and lead dancer and had a five minute solo number that drove the entire world mad!
“My brother and I drove from Manchester to Glasgow because it was sold out. Then this masked goddess appeared on the stage and…I fell in love,” he told Axelle.
“That was a beautiful number, sweetie. I had chills each time I saw you perform,” I told her.
“Thanks, love.”
“You were there too?” Marcus asked me.
“Yup, with the G Band. Summer break; what else was there to do but go on tour? ”
“I can’t believe you recognized me? How?” Axelle asked.
“Your movements, your style. I haven’t seen it for almost eleven years, and two weeks ago… Lucia danced on that very stage and…” he just stopped and smiled. “It was magical.”
“I see,” Lelly murmured. Really? Because I didn’t. “I like him,” she then murmured to me.
“Lelly is the best dancer I’ve ever seen. You can’t even put us in the same category,” I tell Marcus.
“Stop selling yourself short, Luce! You’re more than great. I have been dancing for thirty-three years nonstop. It’s not the same.” She kissed me and headed to the door. “Marcus, you RAM boy.” She gave him a quick wink, “You must come on Friday to the launch party for Noor. I will be more…presentable.” Nicely played Axelle, I remembered thinking at that moment. Now I didn’t have to do it at all.
There was no time for a quick shower, so as soon as Axelle left I just put my shirt back on and we went to the recording studio. We were in there working for more than thirty minutes then we heard an exploding sound coming from the floor below us. Marcus took charge right away, firmly pushing me in the corner and asking me to hide under the mixing tables while he went to check out what happened. He came back f
ifteen minutes later with firefighters. A cable broke on the seventh floor and we had to evacuate. This could have been so much worse if Marcus and I hadn’t been there. But it was still bad enough to shut down the place for the entire week. So, of course, instead of taking a much-needed week off like the rest of the staff, I accepted an invitation to John’s place during the week to finish our work in time for Matt’s return the following Monday. What a fool I was!
This brings me to today. Marcus and I have playing this cat and mouse game of flirting all week. Okay, so Wednesday I had a pedicure done. I couldn’t keep coming here with less-than-stellar-looking toes. Not with Marcus looking at them from time to time. Then of course I had to have my legs completely waxed by Thursday, and showcased them with a knee-length sundress. And to top it all off, Marcus wanted to write a sexual song today.
“I don’t feel comfortable writing a casual sex song for a married couple! How are they going to sell it?” I asked Marcus earlier today.
He laughed at me, but said nothing. I turned on my laptop. “I brought a few examples with me. Mostly ones we have to stay away from.”
“This I want to hear,” Marcus teased.
I placed myself comfortably in the sofa across him with my laptop. “Okay, so ‘Sexual Meeting’ by Dale Rodney. Too easy,” I said, winking at him, and played the first part of it. “The French, Claire Sauvignon Cette Nuit La. That night, a simple adventure has turned to much more. That’s good right?”
“I like that the song doesn’t put the blame on anyone.”
“Well at least the French own up to it. Let’s see what the Brits say.” I put The Candies on.
“Please don’t,” Marcus warned and, covered his ears.
“So, which one is worse?” I asked then mimicked the first song. “I’m hot and ready. Baby, please understand it’s destiny.”
“It’s terrible!”
“No,” I toyed with a big laugh. I put the other song and started mimicking again. “I have the answer to your prayers. You and I together. I’m sure it will be forever.”
“Okay, I got it. We have bad songs in the UK. I’m sure we can come up with a much better one.”
This Could Have Been Our Song!: A coulda woulda shoulda ballad Page 11